The pickup caromed off a tree. It slid toward the ravine side of the road.
“Oh no,” Laurel cried.
She watched the man try to regain control.
The taillights blinked bright before they disappeared.
Laurel raced to the edge.
The brake lights served as a beacon of death. The pickup barreled down the steep cliff into the murky expanse with nothing to stop it.
The loud crack startled her. The pickup had slammed into huge gray boulders far down the ravine. The truck’s taillights were still illuminated. Unlike the movies, no fire erupted. Dead silence prevailed. The security man’s death must have been instantaneous.
Laurel stood, shaking. She had only intended to scare the man off, not cause his death. She brushed away tears as she forced herself to take action. This was no time to break down. The others would return soon.
She opened Halliday’s trunk and pulled out a rope, a claw, and a flashlight.
# # #
Laurel approached Deer Meadow. The cliff top entrance to the cave stood about a half mile away from the meadow.
Jillian’s words came back to her. “If something happens to me find a way to go to the cave to replenish. My journal’s there. It has the proof you will need to bring down Brad Palmier and Genevive Labs.”
Jillian’s spirit gave her hope while, behind her, the pounding feet of her Miwok ancestors spurred her on. Laurel wouldn’t give up.
“Deer Meadow,” the security man in the truck had said earlier to the man named Sam Waylen. She had often passed through this meadow in hopes of spotting the once prevalent deer.
Tonight, the headlights of two vehicles lit the small meadow.
Laurel’s transparency became a handicap in the dark. In her weakened state if she made a mistake they would easily catch her. She shouldn’t chance venturing into the light. She couldn’t resist the muffled voices that filled the night with question marks. Where had the men taken Halliday? What were they doing to him? What were they doing in this meadow?
She made her way along, hidden behind a row of trees.
A pickup truck shrouded her from the meadow. The truck’s headlights bathed the open field in light, creating a blind spot in her direction.
In the middle of the pasture two men wearing cowboy attire stood next to a large cow. Next to them, a table held electronic gear.
Genevive scientists.
The animal’s olive hue surprised her. It shouldn’t have. Genevive pursued her gift of transparency. Although they were light years away, Dr. Krabbi would never give up. She had met the doctor a few times when she worked at the labs. His personality reminded her of a pint-sized version of the crazed doctor that headed up Area 51 in the movie, Independence Day. However, Dr. Krabbi was every bit as calculating and dangerous as Brad.
The two scientists were chattering away. Laurel had a difficult time understanding them. A stiff breeze blew their words away. She moved closer.
“Gennie, you fucking bitch,” one of the men yelled at the cow.
“You clean it up.”
“Fuck you, I cleaned up her mess last time.”
One of the men—they certainly weren’t scientists—gave the cow a shot from a hypodermic needle while the other cleaned up the pile of manure.
Laurel looked around. The men were alone. Earlier, the security man had said they were taking Detective Halliday to the cabin, wherever that was. Brad’s cruelty could not be underestimated. A real possibility loomed that she might not ever see the detective again. She couldn’t battle Brad and Genevive alone.
One of the men patted the cow to calm it. The shot must have been a tranquilizer.
“Doc Krabbi said not to give her two shots. Although it’ll accelerate the process it could affect her mind. ”
“Fuck you. This animal doesn’t have a brain.”
Laurel rushed back into the cover of the trees. The foul-mouthed man trampled through the thick grass toward the two trucks.
The man removed electronic equipment out of a black suburban. He placed it on a flat sled that slid over the wet grass back to the pasture.
They set up the equipment. Laurel’s curiosity won out. She moved closer in.
The technicians adjusted the many controls on the electronics. They must be calibrating the equipment. The cow stood motionless except for the movement of its jaws as it chewed on the grass.
One of the men aimed an electronic instrument broadside to the cow. The animal’s color turned a much brighter green over a circle about six inches in diameter. The patch of verdant color changed to a semi-translucent state.
For a split second the patch reached transparency before it extinguished.
Laurel gasped.
“Did you hear that?” one of the technician’s said, gazing in her direction.
She had slipped and fallen to the ground.
Chapter Thirty Six
On the return trip from the cabin to Halliday’s car, Sam Waylen sulked. Halliday hadn’t been removed from the cabin on a stretcher.
To play with the security man’s mind, Halliday tried a new tactic. He attacked Palmier and company, labeling them as cowards looking out for themselves. Halliday complained that the reason he left government service was that he got sick and tired of being treated like a fucking peon by higher ups.
Waylen lifted his chin and grunted.
Halliday hinted that Waylen could do a better job than his boss, George Altman, an incompetent asshole.
“Nobody has to tell me how much of an asshole Altman is,” Waylen muttered toward the windshield.
Now that he was at Waylen’s level the miserable soul would respond. “I bet you’ve had quite a lot of experience supervising rednecks,” Halliday said, with no disrespect.
Waylen glanced over at him, surprised. “Yeah, I’ve had a long career in physical security. I’m no political asshole.” He grunted. “That’s probably why I’m not doing Altman’s job.”
“Although we’re not on the same team Sam, I hear you.”
Another grunt from Sam told Halliday why he had been placed on the “graveyard shift” at Genevive Labs.
“That fucking well-dressed asshole… What’s his name?” Halliday asked. “If I ever see baldy again I’ll smash that bubble nose into oblivion.”
Waylen snorted and said, “Nobody messes with him. That man has the ear of the Secretary of Defense.”
As if reminded that he'd said too much, Waylen remained tightlipped the remainder of the drive. A whistling sound of a loose fan belt filled the vacuum. Halliday didn’t mind. He had already learned what he needed to know.
Waylen dropped Halliday off at his car. The guy had a tantrum about the absence of the other security man, gone AWOL. Waylen cried out, “Some redneck son-of-a-bitch is headin’ back to ‘Bama tomorrow, if he’s lucky.”
Before he left Sam turned to Halliday and with an apparent new coat of redneck polish said, “Detective Halliday, I have a feeling that I’m never going to see you again.” He chuckled and added, “I’m rarely wrong on these accounts.”
With that, the security man stirred up as much dust as possible on his way back up to the cabin.
Halliday drove in the direction of Santa Reina until Waylen’s tail lights disappeared. He found a narrow turnout to turn around.
Halliday figured Laurel had gone up toward Deer Meadow.
Minutes later he arrived at the turn off to Deer Meadow. A soft glow of light caught his attention. He steered the Saab into a lush thicket off the road. He got out of the car and began walking.
The illuminated cloud above the meadow, similar to the cornfield the other night, put him on alert. He took a big breath out of the breeze that blew across the meadow.
Agitated voices in the pasture sounded an alarm. He went over to get a closer look.
“He must be over there behind the trees,” a male voice called out
Halliday stopped in his tracks. Two men were heading toward a stand of trees in front of
him. They weren’t aware of his presence.
“I saw him behind the trees over there,” another voice replied. “Let’s go.”
Halliday saw a shadow move behind one of the trees ahead of him. Off to the left, the two cowboys—Genevive personnel?—were in pursuit.
Laurel raced out from behind the trees in a direction diagonal from where he stood. If he hurried Halliday could cut off one of the men. He had no weapon.
“You pursue from behind, I’ll get in front of him,” a voice yelled out.
Halliday saw the two men as they passed near the light provided by the vehicles’ headlights. The short, wiry fellow chased after Laurel. She struggled along. Halliday hustled in their direction.
Laurel stopped and turned.
She recognized him.
Halliday slapped his hands at her. Go, go!
She continued on.
Halliday saw the other man—tall and athletic—stop and raise his arm. He heard a loud click. Halliday thought the guy had fired a tranquilizer dart at Laurel.
She showed no signs of being hit. Halliday rushed the skinny man from the blind side just before he reached Laurel.
“Don’t stop!” he yelled at her. The skinny guy went down easily. A dart gun squirted out of his hand. Halliday smacked him hard with his foot. The guy’s body went limp.
The other man, the size of a football lineman, dove into Halliday’s side, knocking the wind out of him.
“I’m police,” Halliday yelled out, trying to regain his breath. He slowly rose up.
Fear captured the brute’s face, but not because of Halliday. The guy gazed beyond him. His body froze. He backpedaled, retreating from god knows what.
The truck lights didn’t cover out to here. Halliday’s glance behind picked up nothing unusual.
The big man stood breathless, unable to take his eyes off the break in the cluster of trees that led back into the meadow.
“What’s going on here?” Halliday said, attempting to buy time for Laurel’s escape. The wind had shifted. He smelled a rank stable odor.
The man ignored him. The absolute fear in his eyes caused Halliday to shiver.
“What’s wrong with you?”
The noise of brush moving behind caused Halliday to lose speech. Jesus, had Laurel returned? Is that what had the man so spooked?
The noise turned into hoof beats from hell.
Halliday whirled around.
A menacing green luminescence came at him like a runaway freight train.
“Holy shit!” the big man screamed.
Halliday pivoted. He dove away from the mad cow. He rolled over as the screams behind him pleaded to the night.
An eerie quiet overcame the forest. Laurel must be on her way to the cave. Halliday jumped up and ran over to the big man.
The animal had trampled the man to death. Halliday found no pulse.
Gennie had apparently returned to the pasture.
The animal’s hoof had smashed the side of the man’s head. The other man’s moaning beckoned the animal’s return. Halliday thought he heard a rustling noise in the bushes.
Fearing for his life, Halliday raced in the direction of his car.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Laurel never looked back until she arrived at the base of the cliff. Detective Halliday had saved her. She would be eternally grateful. But if she didn’t replenish soon she knew she wouldn’t survive.
With her twenty-fifth birthday two days away, Laurel felt like a geriatric as she peered up at the ominous shadow of the hill. Although her cave lay underground, it required a climb get to it. The pros would consider it a moderate climb. Normally, she could make the ascent blindfolded. No way could the Genevive security guys make it up there.
At close to midnight, the moonless night sky, painted with stars, failed to illuminate her usual path amid dark trees and shadowy granite rocks.
Using the flashlight was too risky. She stuffed everything in her backpack, leaving nothing behind to reveal her whereabouts. Thoughts of sinking into the transparency pool aroused the little energy she had left as she began the climb up the rocky precipice.
Laurel fought with determination. Kok’-kol the Raven, her Miwok ancestor, squawked at her to try harder than ever before. Climbing and caving went hand in hand. Both required proper breathing and relaxing techniques as well as body strength that she lacked.
After a few minutes she ignored the pain. She listened to the cadence of far off drums that fueled her imagination. She regained the use of her legs.
When she reached the top Laurel slumped to the ground, angry that her energy had been sapped so easily. She had no chance of raising Halliday since he had given her his phone. Besides, the mountain lacked phone coverage as Genevive had blocked cell phone signals within a two mile radius.
Genevive’s chimes gave her the strength to rise up.
She stood on the rocky pinnacle, far above the well lit Genevive campus, a flawed gem nestled in the dark valley. At the opposite end the bell shaped hill resembled a sand pile in a backyard. The chimes that Jillian said had awakened Laurel’s ancestors were music.
The ominous building C14, a black cube, sat by itself close to the base of the foothills directly below. Soon, she would be underneath it.
Beyond Genevive Labs the topography began a slow ascent into the magnificent sierras.
She trudged along the familiar path to the opposite end of the precipice.
Off in the distance she could make out the dull glow of Santa Reina. Transparency offered a world whose only limits were her need to replenish. In her heart Laurel knew that she would never leave the confines of this valley.
She descended the mountain one step at a time through the steep trail that snaked through the granite outcroppings. This took less energy than the climb. She gasped for air when she arrived at the cave entrance.
Removing the rock slab from the narrow opening proved to be much more difficult. She inched the slab away. After each spent effort, she rested.
Feet first, Laurel twisted her body inside the mountain. She slid down at a forty-five degree angle the short distance into the cave.
Once inside, she turned on the flashlight. The five foot high cave was the size of a large bedroom.
She struck up a match.
The kerosene lanterns, attached to the walls by climbing hooks, soon illuminated her secret hideaway. Nothing had changed. The long camping table that extended across a wall held a camping stove and various supplies, just as she had left them.
At the opposite end, the cave dropped off into her destination, the underground stream far below. Laurel had devised a series of buckets on a rope connected to a hand crank. It scooped up potable water from the stream, which was isolated from the transparency pool. She used a similar crank to lift and lower her canoe and herself.
There were enough supplies to last until spring if she were around then. She and Jillian had stacked the supplies in neat piles up against the walls, from her previous trips. The dainty girl had surprised her when she made it to the top of the cliff the first time. Laurel had had to pull her up.
She wiped the tears away while she strapped on her backpack. The thought of immersing her body into the transparency pool caused her to shiver. At the same time it gave her a much needed adrenaline rush. Her addiction to the substance would always be first in line.
Soon she would have to face the grim reality of eradicating the miracle that prolonged her life.
She put on her gloves.
The rope pulley system responded to her tugs. Satisfied, Laurel prepared to launch herself into the black abyss. The act would scare the living daylights out of most women. For her, it was normally a walk in the dark. Tonight she prayed to her father’s god along with her Miwok ancestors.
An undeterminable time through a painful darkness ended at the moist earth at the cave floor. Although her body begged her to rest, Laurel dragged the canoe over the rocks to the nearby stream.
Although Jillian
had accompanied her into the cave, Laurel’s private underworld had never been touched by another human. The valley had harbored a large lake or sea in ancient times that had formed the underground grotto. Because of its private history, and thanks to the paranoid scientists at Genevive Labs, it had been all hers.
The raven called to her. In Kah’-kah-loo, the Miwok legend, the ravens became real people. As a child, her mom had often told the story at bedtime. In the beginning epic flood covered the land. The first world people climbed a mountain to avoid drowning. When the water receded, the starving people descended to look for food. In their haste, they sank into the mud and died. The ravens came to sit on the holes where the people died, one bird at each hole. The ravens turned into new people—the Miwok.
With the flashlight leading the way, Laurel climbed into the canoe. She shoved off into the gentle stream.
The beauty here always surprised her. Several limestone formed caverns were fed by underground springs. Delicate curled fibers called ‘halite flowers’ hung from the ceiling among the pointed stalactites. The waterway extended a half mile east. The overwhelming peacefulness made her feel at home.
She knew the underground passage well. When she approached the ‘Y’ she navigated onto the right branch.
Soon she would experience the ecstasy of her pool.
As she maneuvered the canoe around the short bend, her heartbeat quickened. The pool lured her like no lover ever could. She quickened the cadence of her paddling.
The dark tunnel led toward a verdant phosphorescent glow. She no longer needed the flashlight.
The first time she had laid eyes on the grotto she thought she had stumbled onto Montezuma’s gold. If the National Speleological Society learned of her discovery the cave would become a natural treasure.
Laurel guided the canoe to the shore. She crawled out and shoved it onto the sandy bank. The sense of relief overwhelmed her. For no reason her giddiness caused her to laugh.
Green slime grew along the edge of the transparency pool. If Genevive Labs were to get their hands on this substance, if they found out what it did, the world would never be the same. The concentration made it dangerous to prolonged touch. She had found out the hard way by experimenting. After she had smeared a glob on her ankle her entire leg had become transparent, even in the dark. About a month later it wore off. She noticed a red blotch that still hasn’t healed.
Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold Page 21