by Alton Gansky
“Quiet,” he commanded in hushed tones. “Someone’s breaking into the house.”
“Oh, my . . . Amy.”
“She’s here, now hush.”
Ray felt his way along the bed until he came to his nightstand. Fumbling along the face of the wood furnishing, he found the pull knob and opened the top drawer. He reached inside and found what he was searching for: a flashlight. Placing his hand over the front of the light, he turned in on. Small beams, shreds of illumination, shone between his fingers providing just enough glow for Ray to see.
He heard something. Someone was trying to turn the locked doorknob. “This way.”
His wife and daughter followed him into the master bath. A narrow, sliding window opened to the outside. The intruders were in the house and Ray knew at least one had been outside the kitchen window. Maybe they all had come in, leaving the backyard unattended, if so, then Skeeter and Nora could slip through the window and run to a neighbor’s house. There they could call for help. “Open the window as quietly as possible,” Ray said. “I’ll be right back.”
“What are you going to do,” Nora asked.
“Just do as I say,” he said as he handed the flashlight to his wife. “I need to slow them down. Maybe get a weapon.” With help, Nora and Skeeter could fit through the narrow opening. Ray held no such hope for himself. He was too big. Beside, someone had to stall the attackers. They were after him, not Skeeter and Nora. At least, he hoped so.
Quick as the dark would allow, Ray exited the bathroom and felt for the bed, got his bearings and moved four steps across the room. With his hands before him, he felt something cool and smooth. Glass. It was the glass of the old television screen that sat opposite their bed. Ray wrapped his arms around the set, lifted, took two steps to his left and set the device on the floor. The set’s electric cord was just long enough to reach. He hoped he had the distance right. Whether they chose to pick the lock or kick the door down, they would move quickly. So quickly, Ray hoped, they wouldn’t see the television on the floor. If his plan worked, one or more would trip and fall. Ray might then be able to seize an attacker’s weapon and fire at the others. Success was doubtful, but it was all he had. A gun battle would mean his death, but maybe his family could get away. It was a slim chance, but one he was willing to take.
He heard the bathroom window open. Ray pivoted and charged toward the master bath. Nora and Skeeter would need help getting out. He also wanted to make sure no one was waiting for them in the backyard. Despair again washed over him. Everything he tried had so little chance of working. They were desperate acts made in an impossible situation.
“Nora, you go first, then Skeeter.”
“Then you, right, Dad?” Skeeter said.
“When you get outside, run next door to Bill’s. Call the police.”
“You’re coming with us, right, Dad?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not going,” Skeeter said.
“Yes you are. We don’t have time to argue.” Ray peeked out the window. A gun, a pistol, appeared in the opening. Moonlight glinted off the gun. Ray staggered back. Nora gasped loudly. A new sound: a loud crash and the noise of the bedroom door slamming into the wall. Another crash followed by several loud curses. Ray spun and interposed his body between the bathroom door and his family. A figure, barely visible filled the doorway. Nora directed the flashlight at the shadow. Ray saw the face of Devlin Chambers.
“Hello, Ray,” he said. “I’m very sorry about this.”
Two sharp pains stung his chest and Ray raised his hands, clutching at the source of the injury. He felt two small metal needles. A second later every nerve in his body blazed. His body convulsed, his jaw clinched, his eyes rolled back, and Ray collapsed to the tile floor of the bathroom.
The darkness deepened.
Thirteen
Nothing seemed right. Ray felt displaced, confused, and groggy. His muscles ached fiercely but he couldn’t remember why. A mental mist swirled in his thinking like a thick, ubiquitous fog. He wanted to open his eyes, but his lids were heavy, as if made of concrete.
Ray licked his parched lips, but to little benefit. His tongue was as dry as cotton. He took a deep breath. The air was cool and stale. It was also familiar. Anxiety arose in him like the surge of an unexpected tide.
Ray willed his eyes open. Above him were white ceiling panels. Fluorescent lights shone from their recessed fixtures. Turning his head to the right he saw a partition and a bed. The bed was empty. The infirmary, Ray reasoned. He felt ill. He was back in the New Mexico facility, lying in the same bed he had been in a few weeks before.
Memories appeared in the haze that shrouded his mind like ships sailing through a heavy ocean mist. At first they came one by one: his nightmare, the glass of milk, the sound at the front door. Then the dam broke flooding his thoughts with the attack that had taken place in his home. The last thing he remembered was hearing Devlin’s voice, a sharp pain, and then full body agony.
“It’s about time you woke up,” someone said. “I was getting worried.”
Ray struggled to sit up. “Where’s my family, Devlin?”
“They’re fine. You’re wife and daughter woke up about an hour ago. We sedated them like we sedated you. The less they know the better.”
“I want to see them.” Ray swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Dizziness swirled in his head and nausea roiled in his stomach. He felt faint.
“Easy, buddy,” Devlin said as if he were speaking to an old friend. “The anesthesia is wearing off, but you’re in no condition to go running around.” He paused, and then added, “Nor are you in any position to make demands. After all, you brought this on yourself.”
“You attacked me.” Ray meant to shout, but little more than a whisper passed his lips.
“Ray,” Devlin said in avuncular tones, “you were unwise in talking about what you saw. You made a promise to me and to your country to keep that knowledge to yourself. We can’t have you compromising our work.”
“I had to talk to someone, I was going insane.”
“No one said it would be easy, Ray.” Devlin pulled a chair next to the bed, sat and crossed his legs. Ray wanted to leap from the bed and strangle the man, but doubted he could stand, let alone fight. “You received quite a shock. There were some who said you should not be allowed to leave the facility. The general was adamant about it, but I said you were trustworthy, dependable. I said a man should be allowed to live with his family. Besides, if you just up and disappeared, there would be questions, maybe even an investigation. That wouldn’t do.”
“I spoke to a pastor. I spoke in confidence. He probably thinks I’m crazy, anyway.”
“He believes you, I’m sure of it. He seems to be a trusting man. You were very persuasive.”
“You listened to my private conversation.” Ray had felt safe since his meeting with Shackleton took place outside. Now he felt foolish for underestimating Devlin and the others.
“Of course we did, Ray. If you’d been thinking straight you would have known.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. I wasn’t sleeping. I was going mad.”
“You wouldn’t be the first, but you’ll do all right.”
“Dr. Rehnquist didn’t do all right.”
Devlin nodded. “He worked with the aliens on a daily basis. That took its toll. But he may have been unstable to begin with. He had no family, no friends. All he did was work. He had no emotional support. We would have helped but he became paranoid and violent. Of course, I don’t need to tell you that.”
“I want to see my wife and daughter.” The dizziness was fading.
“You will . . . most likely.”
“Most likely?”
Devlin shrugged. “Everything depends on how cooperative you are.”
“What do you want from me?”
“It’s not what I want. It’s what they want.”
“They?” A chill ran through Ray as if his blood had been replaced with ice wa
ter.
“The aliens—except they’re not really aliens as we think of them. Your friend Shackleton was right. These creatures are not from another planet, but they are from another world. Maybe I should say they’re from another universe, a world that coexists with ours but is invisible to us.”
“Tartarus.”
Devlin shrugged. “That’s as good a name as any, I suppose. It was a new term to me. I had to look it up. That Shackleton is sharp. Of course, I don’t believe in demons, or any of the other things he mentioned. Those are all just terms we humans use to describe the indescribable.”
“Monster comes to mind.”
Devlin laughed. “I bet we look pretty ugly to them. Anyway, their real, they’re powerful, and we’ve forged an alliance with them. They can see things we can’t. They know things we have yet to imagine. We think they’re going to be a big help to our country.”
“Why do I feel like you’re striking a deal with the devil?”
“Because you’re narrow-minded. You’re a writer of fiction, Ray. You depend on your imagination to see what few others can. All of that takes place in your mind. Now it can take place in front of your eyes. You’re blessed.”
“Blessed?” Ray laughed. “I was nearly killed because of you. I watched a man die; I was confronted by something hideous; I’ve come close to losing my mind, my house is invaded in the wee hours of the morning by armed men; and my family and I are being held against our will. Forgive me, but I don’t see the blessing.”
“Don’t be stupid, Ray,” Devlin snapped. “You’re one of a handful of people who knows—I mean really knows—we are not alone in the universe. You have seen what others would give their lives to see: Life other than our own. Think of it, Ray. You’re on the inside of the greatest discovery in humankind. Granted, you were never meant to see what you saw, but you did and now you’re part of the elite.”
“How is this possible?”
“Serendipity,” Devlin explained. “You’re a writer, you should know the meaning of the word.”
“It means to make a fortunate discovery by accident. So what?”
“Some of the greatest discoveries have come about by accident. Wilhelm Roentgen’s discovery of X-rays 1895 and Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin in 1928 are just two examples. The same thing happened here. An ongoing research project accidentally learned how to open a portal between the universe of the aliens and our own. Don’t ask what the project was; just know it involved a great deal of power to operate. The power and magnetic field it caused created the portal.” Devlin shook his head. “You think you were shocked when you saw the alien, you can imagine what the researchers thought back then. It’s taken awhile for us to create a stable portal.”
“You were one of the researchers?”
“No. I just oversee certain aspects of research . . . about a dozen projects in all.”
“So you can see into their world.”
“No, not really. We can catch a glimpse here and there. They see our world much better.”
“No one has crossed over?”
“They would love to do just that, but for some reason they can’t. Not yet anyway. They’re helping us find a way to make it happen.”
“For what reason? They’re evil. I can sense it.”
“Evil?” Devlin crossed his legs. “They may seem that way, but that will change as we get to know them.”
“Shackleton called them demons.”
“Shackleton is a religious nut. He contextualizes everything from a biblical perspective. You’d expect that from a minister, but not from a rational, educated man.”
Ray lowered his head in thought. He had never spoken those exact words, but he was familiar with the sentiment. He had been just as insensitive when Shackleton sat at his dinner table. “I think Shackleton was right. If he is, then the last thing you want is to have these creatures walking around on our planet.”
“You’ve decided that, have you?” Devlin’s tone turned cold. “You have one experience with them and you’re ready to write them off as monsters.”
“One experience?” Ray’s voice turned to a shout. “One experience? They.ve been in my head day and night for weeks. They don’t go away. They plague me, haunt me, and torment me.”
“I know it may seem that way—”
“It is that way! It is that way in point of fact. They did it to Rehnquist, now they’re doing it to me. You may be next.”
“You present a danger to them, just as Rehnquist did. You saw what you weren’t supposed to see. You talked about it when you should have kept your big mouth shut!” Devlin stood. “I trusted you, Ray. I took you in when your publisher dumped you like last weeks garbage. I gave you a job that pays more than ninety percent of what the world makes. You betrayed me!”
Ray chose not to respond. There was nothing he could say. No words, no amount of facts would persuade a man who chose not to be persuaded. Devlin would believe what he wanted to believe. Ray recognized the intellectual affliction; he suffered with it all his life.
Moments flowed slowly. Finally, Devlin said, “It’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“They want to see you.”
“What?”
“The aliens, they want to see you.”
Ray’s heart seized. “What for?”
“I didn’t ask. Get up. It’s time to go.”
Ray thought of resisting, but dismissed the idea when Devlin called for the guards. Two men with thick arms entered the sickbay. Ray slipped from the bed, momentarily dizzy, then turned and faced the now open door.
“What about my family?”
“Do as you’re told and they get to go home.”
“How do I know that’s true?”
Devlin shook his head. “You don’t.”
Fourteen
The lab was everything Ray remembered and seeing it brought back waves of apprehension and fear. Some things, however, were different. The cool cavern air felt cold and thick. A dark brown spot discolored the floor where Rehnquist had fallen, mortally wounded by a bullet fired from Devlin’s gun. There was an almost palpable somberness among the few who occupied the lab with Ray. The general was there as was the large woman Ray had crashed into when Rehnquist forced him into the room.
The cavern seemed brighter, the fluorescent lights humming and casting their muted glow to the area below. There was equipment in the room, computer terminals, cables, devices Ray couldn’t identify. Only one thing, however, held his attention—the cylindrical waterfall that dominated the room. Water poured from the ceiling above in a continuous sheet. It was unlike any water, Ray had seen. Rainbow colors danced on the surface of the falls. The water was thicker, not quite like oil, but more than water. Two shadowy “some-things” stirred behind the translucent curtain.
Ray’s heart seized in his chest and blood rush from his head. Only fear for his family’s well-being kept him standing. He took another tentative step forward. Devlin and the others stood well back and watched in silence.
“What do they want?” Ray had asked as he and Devlin walked down the corridors from the clinic to the lab.
“Hard to say. They don’t think the way we do. Their values are different. Our communication has been limited. We figure we understand about fifty percent of what they say.”
“That’s not much. Fifty percent misunderstanding can lead to one hundred percent error.”
“It’s no different from Marco Polo talking to the Chinese or Christopher Columbus’ communication with the American Indian. It takes time, but it happens.”
“Except in those cases, it was human talking to human. There was common ground in simple human experience such as love, birth, death, and family. Can you say the same about the creatures in the lab?”
Devlin sighed. “Let us do our job, Ray. You just do as you’re told. Got it?”
They covered the rest of the distance in silence. Now Ray stood less than half a meter away from a world he could not have
imagined just a few weeks ago.
He wanted to flee. Ray had no delusions of heroics or courage. He stood before the portal because he had to. He had no idea what Devlin had done with his wife and daughter. He couldn’t be sure they were alive, but he had to take the chance.
How silly his life seemed bathed as it was in the iridescent glow of the unseen. He had wanted fame and fortune, to be the author people lined up for blocks to see. He hungered to be the object of autograph seekers and publishing houses, but it hadn’t worked out that way. He wrote because he loved it and because he felt compelled to do so. Books had been his life, occupying the space that belonged to another.
Standing before the unknown, Ray felt like a clown, devoid of reason and insight. All of his previous goals seemed insignificant, empty of meaning, vacuous visions that had no merit to commend them.
He had always loved his family, but Ray loved them more now than ever. He would prove it, even if it meant walking through the gates of Hell.
A small voice echoed in his mind, rebounding off the scores of fearful concerns that wedged in his brain like a logjam. It was Shackleton’s voice: “I’m not a religious man; I’m a spiritual man. There’s a difference. I have spent much of my life studying the things of God, and I assure you He is as real as the table we sit at. Jesus, His son, came in the flesh, lived among men, died on the cross for our sin, was buried in a tomb and raised from the dead. Those are not suppositions those are the facts. I believe you’ve had an encounter with something sinister, and I believe that the help you need must come from God through Christ.”
If ever there was a time Ray needed help, it was now. He had never given God any thought. Not as a child and certainly not as a man. Could he now turn to a God he had ignored all his life? Would God be interested in hearing from him? Did God care about what happened to one man, one who had been a life long agnostic?
More of Shackleton’s words played in his mind. Each word was as crisp as when first uttered: “Ray, when the time comes, Jesus will be waiting. Call on him. Ask him into your life. If anyone needs Jesus, it’s you. In your heart you know that.”