by Gary Starta
Maybe it was just a rival nation hoping someone would be foolish to believe it. If so, the dial might not have a beneficial use. It might even foster the type of engineered plague it was supposed to prevent. Iris concluded she had to plant this seed of doubt in her team’s minds. If she could do this, she might be able to create a standoff between the ghost hunters and the ufologists. She didn’t want to engage in an investigation with set beliefs, but something still nagged at her; that the ghost was a trickster and whatever he wanted those to do for him would be detrimental to all. Yet, she still felt weak without a support system to present a counterargument against aliens. Could she risk alerting her father of the dial? Would he willingly educate Mitchell about its true origin? She believed it would be best if Mitchell became convinced the object was indeed our government’s making and was not reverse engineered from any alien neighbors. But she couldn’t depend on her father to release any sensitive data to the public. Even if it meant saving the life of the man she still wanted to date and possibly love despite their differences.
Iris finally concluded her safest option. She would confide in Ron, despite the presence’s warnings. Poor Ron might not even be capable of understanding what she had to say. But she believed he could listen to her words despite his compromised condition. He was her kindred spirit. He was also another ear and support system for her. Mitchell had Evan. Iris believed it only fair she had an ally as well. The idea took some of the weight off her shoulders. She felt her heart lighten but only for an instant. Rache came back into the kitchen then to let her know that both the teams were in her living room and waiting for her to begin. Soon what Rachel had dubbed the most important meeting in the world would begin.
Iris spent a scant moment greeting Mitchell. She inquired how he’d slept. He reported “like a log.” That meant it was highly unlikely the presence was still transmitting thoughts to their minds. It also indicated Mitchell might not be quite as upset with her as she imagined.
Nevertheless, his contact was minimal. He had leaned over to her, but opted to place a hand on her shoulder instead of kissing her lips. His eyes told her he wanted to discuss things, but not here. Iris blinked back a tear. If the situation was reversed, and the woman was requesting a discussion, it usually foretold of ill tidings for the relationship. As Mitchell eyed the teams preparing seating arrangements, she opted to break the ice with a joke.
“I think we might have to classify last night as our first date. Although it was only in our minds.” She paused but he was silent. “At least we didn’t spend it in some cheesy couples’ restaurant. We can always boast we spent it on some other world.”
Mitchell countered. “I wish I could believe that. If you are asking me, I think you believe everything we experienced was mere hallucination. But I don’t. It’s why I have to impress upon the group that it’s urgent we heed the presence’s warning. We must map a plan to return the object to its proper place. I don’t think I can count on your support in this, can I?”
Iris, stunned, mumbled a few nearly unintelligible syllables, “I have . . . to . . . think.”
Mitchell’s eyes grew fierce. “It’s going to be my job to get everyone else aboard with this. I know you are a skeptic. But I would hope you would consider the outcome of ignoring the alien’s request, Iris. Time is of the essence. The aliens have been waiting a long time for this opportunity, and it’s coming up soon. I can’t wait for you to come around. And if you won’t assist, I’ll respect this. But please, for the population’s sake don’t get in my way. I’ll need the others’ assistance . . .”
Iris hadn’t observed Mitchell like this, such fervor. She recalled her last meeting with Ron. He had grown aggressive and determined from his contact with the spheres. She could only hope Mitchell’s behavior wasn’t somehow affected as well.
“Mitchell, I agree to present any comments with civility, but please recall your own rules for fair arguing. I might oppose you, but if I’m in the minority—as I believe I will be—I will only be correct by a small percentage. I’m sure whatever I have to say wouldn’t affect the majority.”
“I’ll respect that. I really don’t want us divided, and I’m sorry for being harsh. My very being just feels my interpretation is just. For me, this validates all my life’s work. I am here for a purpose.”
“I already believe you are here for a purpose. Yet you must temper your enthusiasm. Sometimes when we hear someone say the words we have been waiting for all our lives, we will validate their arguments without scrutiny. I just want you to consider that, regardless of our friendship.”
“You’re a great woman, Iris. Whatever your decision is, it won’t affect my ultimate opinion of you. I love—I love the way you stand up for your principles. But we better talk about this later.” He tapped her shoulder.
Iris glanced toward the threatening makeshift conference room that had once been only a living area. “I know, the meeting. This is bigger than both of us.” Iris smiled. She believed deep down there would be some resolution for their relationship. Hopefully, it would be positive. Yet her very words echoed in her mind, threatening her resolve with a tinge of doubt. This is bigger than both of us . . .
DARIAN INQUIRED why the alien chose to give his presentation via movie screen.
Mitchell tapped a pen on paper. “He didn’t come right out and say it. But think of the way we gather information today. Everything from a screen, be it laptop, iPad, phone, or TV. I think he wanted to accommodate us. Make it easier for us to digest.”
Iris balled her fist underneath the table. No one seemed to argue that the accommodation Mitchell spoke of was another way the being might manipulate, pretend to be a trusted data source. She couldn’t be the only one to oppose him. As a leader, she knew majorities ruled.
Evan agreed that a confidentiality agreement with the presence made perfect sense. “We can’t trust our leaders to do what’s in the best interest—at least not for the masses.”
Kassidy seated opposite Evan nodded. “That is something I think we all can agree on.”
Iris exhaled. She couldn’t even share her father’s work with her best friend, Kassidy. If she had, would Kassidy still hold this opinion? She resisted the urge to give up her father’s clandestine operations. She was certain he handled advanced tech that often changed society. Her new phone was just one example. But for Iris, a Smartphone didn’t scream reverse engineering. Yet if push came to shove, she just might reveal what her father had been up to all these years, especially if it meant keeping the people in this room from harm.
Iris observed Gavin while he too was busy observing, evaluating. His eyes searched every speaker. He seemed to take note of body language by the shifts in his gaze. She believed Gavin might still harbor some doubts about believing the presence’s story. He directed a comment toward her.
“Iris, you’ve been pretty quiet for someone who has seen the alien’s world through his eyes. Do you believe his only motivation is revenge? Was he philanthropic in manner or in his tone in anyway?” He broke his gaze with her and continued scribbling notes.
“I do believe the presence—whatever it is—has motivation and real anger. Yet I question what I saw through his eyes was real or manufactured. He was linked to us via our subconscious. Our minds work differently there, from what we perceive in our waking moments. What I mean to say is, thoughts may contrast dramatically in the subconscious from the waking mind. So, I would conclude that what I saw through his eyes is debatable.”
“You seem to be suggesting he implanted experiences like some sort of brainwashing.” Gavin sat back in his chair, disturbed by his own deduction. “DJ, you communicated with the presence with your conscious mind. You’ve told us you trust what the presence says is true. Has that opinion changed?”
DJ tugged at the collar of her sweater. “I still believe this ghost to be from another world. I trust its story. I can’t tell you why I do. It’s mainly a vibe.” Her eyes were downcast.
Iris attempted
to see into her sister’s mind. It was the first time she felt any kind of resistance. She couldn’t fathom why DJ would suddenly believe in aliens wholeheartedly. Her father had employed the same non-belief tactics with her. She still felt guilty for involving her in the investigation. She would have to use tact with her sister to reveal more in time, but tact wasn’t something Iris Camden felt she had in abundant supply these days.
Breaking an uncomfortable lull, Mitchell announced a plan. “I think we can all agree the threat of an engineered plague is terrifying. We seem to have the means to stop it, if you can believe the presence. I am inclined to do so, having firsthand experience with his past and motivation. I don’t think we have the luxury to doubt him. If we don’t act, and the plague is launched, humanity may be wiped out. We’ve seen an example of this in the cornfield. I believe the OBOLs are intelligent and are working to convince us that the threat is real; whether they are good or bad is another question. It seems the dial can cause time slips in tandem with the OBOLs as evidenced by the odd video footage captured by Kassidy’s video cam. I have read about natural power sources underground. It seems sensible that those sources can assist the dial in completing its task, making our skies safe. I also believe that all of us have somehow been chosen to complete this task. I know Iris is skeptical. I respect her and the Colorado Ghost Hunters. I want to thank them for asking for our assistance. I feel, and I hope I speak for my team, we would be remiss to ignore this warning.”
Iris pursed her lips and nodded. She would acquiesce without further opposition, for now. She still had time to bargain, she reasoned. The presence was not specific where the power source was. It would take time to find it, if it could be found. But just as her tension alleviated, Evan suggested a means to narrow the search.
“I know the Hopi Indians are familiar with ruins in Arizona, specifically the Chaco Canyon area. From what you’ve described, Mitchell, I believe that is where we will find the conduit to power the object. I suggest we contact the Hopi Nation and request a guide.” Mitchell nodded and jotted it down as a note.
Rachel inquired why the Hopi would know so much about an abandoned area. Evan folded his hands and answered.
“Some believe the Hopi to be the descendants of the Anastazi tribe that lived in Chaco Canyon some nine hundred years ago. I think they are our best source to be a guide because Chaco may be their past. The Hopi also believe in end of world prophecies. If I’m correct, they believe we are fast approaching the fifth end time. That said, they may be able to validate—for the Ghost Hunters’ benefit—that the alleged plague may be part of an apocalypse. It might help alleviate some trepidation. In other words, it might help us reason that the threat is real. Or, it might send us all over the edge. To be fair, we are taking a risk as Iris warns. I may appear to be a hard, cold scientist evaluating a means to save our species.” He cast his eyes downward and smiled. “But on the inside, I shake with the same fears early man—and woman—experienced. We are encountering the unknown. I will not deny that. Yet, this is the reason why we must act to protect our species. For it is frail and must be protected from the unknown.”
Iris observed the others. All were content with Evan’s explanation it seemed. She rolled his words around in her head. He referred to the human species in a detached manner, phrasing “it is frail.” Why didn’t he say “we” are frail?
“SO, ARE WE going to talk about where we stand?” Iris asked, her hands rubbing up and down her shivering arms. Mitchell was halfway out her front door; everyone else had piled into their rides by now. She wanted to stop him anyway she could. Even it meant using their relationship to do it.
“I think we have our plates full, so to speak. Maybe we need a break. Or, maybe it’s the fear in me that’s talking. Evan is right. We should be scared and apprehensive. I just can’t let the unthinkable happen. Right now, I’m only 50 percent correct.”
“Don’t you want be 100 percent correct, especially in a matter like this?”
“That is the nature of our investigations. We may never be 100 percent.” Mitchell stuck his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “About us, I’m not 100 percent right now. I am troubled about your actions. I have to ask, if we weren’t involved, would you have hacked your way into my investigation? I was supposed to be the tagalong with your sister. You didn’t trust I could handle it.”
She balled her sweater sleeve about her right fist. “I believe a leader of the group should shoulder the blame, even if they aren’t personally responsible.”
“Yet I can’t blame you, Iris. I have feelings for you. They are not eradicated. I have kept myself distanced from people for fear of conflicts like this. A part of me acknowledges your need to counter me, watch out for me. As for me, investigating UFOs, aliens, that is my life, my career. I may only be a photographer’s assistant right now, but I want to be a full-fledged scientist one day. Sorry, I’m rambling. Bottom line, you can blame me; I should have been stronger.” He emphasized his last words with his hand accenting every syllable.
“Ah, you couldn’t resist a Camden gal, could you?”
He scrubbed a hand across his face. “No. I couldn’t. I can’t. But that aside, teammates have to be able to trust each other.”
“Can we get over this?” She wanted to reach for his hand but refrained.
“As you said, the current situation is bigger than both of us. We need to make sure both of us—in effect, all of us—will continue, if you get my drift.”
Mitchell said goodnight and kissed her on the middle of her forehead. For an instant, she believed he was attempting to open her third eye. Maybe she did keep her mind closed because of her father’s influence. Maybe Mitchell perceived more than she did. He may have had psychic abilities all along and now they had come to the surface. For all her psychic ability, the strongest impulse she felt guiding her now was doubt. She couldn’t actually see anything bad happening as a result of following the ghost’s wishes. Yet again, she hadn’t foreseen what the spirits would do to Ron. In other words, she couldn’t rely solely on psychic intuition. In the morning, she would call in late for work and visit the man she once considered to be not only a lifelong colleague, but a lifelong partner. Her instinct told her it was the right thing to do, paranormal considerations aside.
Chapter Eleven
THEIR OFFICE didn’t appear to be a place of covert actions and deceit. Florescent lights, upholstered chairs and desks adorned with computer equipment. It was just a room.
Jack often took note of this when plotting the Organization’s next secret acquisition. He shared his office space with Will. Neither wore nametags or had nameplates on their desks. Jack often failed to recall Will’s last name. It was better this way, Jack believed, adhering to the Organization’s strict policy of non-disclosure. Discussions about the job were to be kept to a minimum and on a need to know basis within their Arizona-based facility. Much of the building was underground. And if one had never visited the facility before, it was nearly invisible to them, hidden by the Santa Catalina Mountains. It had no physical address. Bottom line: you couldn’t find it with a GPS.
Jack wasn’t even sure if they worked entirely for the government. It was a branch, he was told. He often forgot what the convoluted acronym stood for. He, like everyone else, just dubbed it the Organization. But whatever the government’s involvement, private funding clearly financed a large portion of the high-tech research going on in the bowels of the facility. And when the new technologies he helped procure came to light, his facility approved how long it would be kept from public knowledge. He wasn’t sure why the private contributors were so patient. Millions and billions stood to be made on any one patent. Jack could only fathom that the control of knowledge ultimately trumped financial gain. He surmised this knowledge was more powerful than money. It kept governments in power and facilitated an agenda for global integration.
Jack never discussed these ideas with Will, of course. It was non-specific to their jobs. Despite Jack’s concern
and confusion over the Organization’s ultimate goal he was certain of one thing; he would keep everyone else on board in line with their agenda. The Organization saved him. Years earlier he’d drunk too much, racked up more debt than he could ever pay, and left his wife. He’d felt as if he existed as a shadow. He answered an advertisement. It was vague. But it made him feel as if being a shadow wasn’t such a bad thing if you served a greater whole. He would have continued to waste his life on the pursuit of material things and distractions such as alcohol and drugs if he hadn’t found his purpose. The Organization gave this to him. It had saved his life. He would be its shepherd.
Jack was concerned about the man who worked across the hallway named Dan Camden. Seemed dedicated enough; hell, they’d even put in a chip in his brain to guide him. But lately, Dan seemed too quiet even for such a hush-hush operation. Will had even asked Jack what was wrong with the man he had dubbed “Cyborg Man.” “Who the fuck does he think he is,” Will had quipped just the other day, “the Six Million Dollar Man?”
Jack didn’t laugh at Will’s bad and hurtful joke. He dug deeper and inquired why Will felt such strong emotion. These kinds of feelings had to be harnessed. They created ill will and before you knew it they distracted from their objectives: Acquisition and Containment. These objectives were bigger than any one person or even any one group of people. Jack didn’t need department heads to instill this notion in him. He wouldn’t lose his purpose to some stray idea or thought. He couldn’t fathom why he might ever succumb to such diversions. The fate of humanity could or would be always on the line. But Jack had a good idea why someone like Dan would be distracted. He had a family—or more aptly—once had one. Specifically, he had kids. These bonds didn’t dissolve with divorce. He felt lucky he had left his wife before he fathered any.