Coalescence (Camden Investigations Book 1)

by Gary Starta

  For right now, Jack had taken care of immediate problems. There was some sloppy evidence, but his two colleagues no longer threatened to bungle the mission. Why wait around for Dan Camden to eventually stick his nose into his field mission? Or allow Will to expose him unnecessarily? Will almost had given away their position yesterday when that girl with the glasses had a feinting fit or something. How many times had he told Will to wait for his signal?

  He let the idea sink in. His steps were lighter because of absolution. Jack forgave himself.

  He persevered, continuing to walk in the desert heat. He had an option. But he wasn’t going to do something crazy like drive a car to alert his presence. Not when he had two stiffs in the backseat. That was what someone like Will or Dan would have done. They should have washed out a long time ago. They weren’t Organization material. Jack adjusted the brim of his army cap. Dressed in a charcoal grey denim jumpsuit he resembled a character from Stargate traipsing along some new and dangerous planet in search of a gateway. In a way, this was true. Jack envisioned a new world but one that would still offer danger for the survivors. Many would foolishly believe they had achieved equality in this new existence. But it would be an illusion. Someone always had to rule. Besides, if everyone was truly equal, how could a man like Jack ever claim his title as god? And in the new world, there would be new rules. Maybe killing would no longer be thought of as a sin. Maybe you wouldn’t need absolution or a means to quiet the society-induced pangs of guilt in your mind anymore. It made Jack’s heart skip a beat. He saluted to the vulture overhead. New rules, my friend; new rules for ruling . . .

  MITCHELL ATTEMPTED to keep everyone’s spirits up. He would clap his hands every now and then. Call out: “it won’t be long now.”

  Iris knew Mitchell well enough. His tone wasn’t convincing her. She circled with the others in the unbearable heat. Hoping Rusty would either guide them to the grail or fail so everyone could call it a day. Problem was it was only early morning. There was a long day to go before anyone could “call” it over.

  She nudged up against Mitchell’s backside and whispered, “Do you really believe we’re going to find this? There are countless possibilities in Pueblo Bonito alone. And if it’s not here . . .”

  He cut her off in a harsh whisper. “Then we pack up and scour the next site, for as long as it takes, for as long as we can before the worst case scenario happens.”

  “I had to hook up with a damn UFO hunter. You’re all so damned stubborn.”

  Her whisper had risen in volume thanks to the surroundings. Kassidy passed by to comment: “But few as good looking . . .”

  Mitchell grabbed Iris’s hand as she said, “She’s right you know. On this, she’s infallible.”

  Iris gripped Mitchell’s hand so tight it hurt him. “Ouch!” he shouted.

  “Serves you right, arrogant, scientist bastard.” Iris exchanged a satisfied smile with Mitchell and Kassidy. Now she barked, “Come on, people. There’s a power source to find. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Yeah, that’s a way to whip them into shape,” Kassidy remarked.

  Iris frowned at her. “That goes for you as well.”

  Kassidy saluted. Rachel grabbed Kassidy’s arm and twisted it behind her. “Insubordination is punishable by death.”

  “I didn’t know a salute was insubordinate.” Kassidy feigned pleading eyes at Rachel upon release.

  “Sarcastic salutes are the highest form of insolence.” Rachel locked eyes with Iris. “Boss, I suggest we deal with her later. Right now, we need all the hands we can get.”

  “Okay, okay,” Mitchell warned. “Enough playing already. I am certain our good friend Rusty didn’t come all the way out in the desert to hear jokes.”

  Rusty turned from his lead position. “It’s okay. We try to get our elders to lighten up all the time.” For a moment his eyes became sad. Iris guessed it was the betrayal he felt from disobeying Bill. She wondered how many times, if any, her Dad got that look in his eyes when he thought about her and DJ.

  Rusty continued, “Besides, it’s not like I’ve found anything yet.”

  “Yes,” Evan added, “but it seems to be also about what you haven’t found. You’ve probably saved us countless hours already by weeding out where the power source isn’t.”

  “How are you even attempting to navigate this?” DJ inquired of Rusty. “I commend your effort while I don’t completely understand it.”

  Darian smiled and draped an arm over DJ’s shoulders. “I completely don’t understand it. What are you looking for?”

  Rusty pointed at the jut of a cut stone. “See, there.” He pointed at some curious markings. “It’s an ancient language. I can’t decipher much of it. But from what I can interpret, it labels what all this is,” he expanded his arms to point to the corners of the canyon, “and was once used for.”

  “You mean this was an entire functioning city? Not just a farm?” Evan asked Rusty.

  “I’m sure of it. How else could the elders have survived? They not only required food but a means to transport it.”

  Kassidy shrugged her shoulders. “If you see anything resembling the markings of a distillery, you be sure to let me know.” She patted Rusty on the arm.

  “How could a stone farm exist?” Iris asked rhetorically.

  “The answer lies with our dial. It transforms. You’ve seen it yourself,” Evan answered.

  “I’ve seen illusion.” Iris recalled the trickery in the hotel. The way the camcorder had somehow etched her memory of it on film. “You mean to say, this could all have substance? I just thought we were here to install a defense system.”

  Mitchell remarked. “What if it were a multi-capability system? Come on guys, if that idea doesn’t spark motivation I don’t know what else will.”

  Kassidy pursed her lips at him.

  Iris dismissed her best friend’s flippant gesture. If Mitchell and Evan were correct, the object and its linked power source might reform desolation to some modicum of sustainability. The flashes of Galloway’s planet played in her head; everything was so barren. But although ravaged, could it be restored? It was a philanthropic consideration. If all of her people—and everyone on this planet for that matter—survived, Iris hoped to return the favor to Galloway’s race. She had no idea how to do this, however.

  After they had scanned a few more rooms of the pueblo, the magnificence of the event beheld them.

  It began with the rimming of objects. Rocks became outlined with pastel colors of blue, pink and yellow. Each outline contained a similar version of another. It was geometric. If Iris knew more about science she would have labeled it: fractal. The outline of the rocks shimmered with a luminescence no one—or at least Mitch—had ever experienced before. Iris wondered how she could share Mitchell’s thoughts. Somehow her mind had been linked to his just as when she mind shared with Galloway. Only, Galloway wasn’t here right now. At least she didn’t think so.

  The outlining continued, lines running up and down, perpendicular, horizontal, vertical—as if they were witness to the universe’s hugest Etch A Sketch.

  The colors shimmered. Everyone watched, transfixed.

  Mitchell eventually tried to speak, but his lips moved in slow motion. Kassidy raised her hands to cover her ears. Iris wondered from what: some vibration? Everyone else did their best to maintain their equilibrium. The ground under their feet appeared to be slightly shaking, but nothing on the scale of an epic earthquake. Yet they were struggling to stay upright in the time distortion, but ever so slowly. Iris likened it to her father’s old electric football game from the 70s. The players often shook as if being electrocuted and never moved at any faster pace than a leisurely stroll. When Dan Camden left, Iris had trashed it in rage.

  Iris listened intently. She grabbed a hold of a word from Mitchell’s mind. The first word: it. The word rang as if a bell. The sound of the one syllable stretched and floated for minutes. When he finished an intelligible sentence had formed: It is here. We
have found the power source.

  The feeling of being enveloped in gum continued a while longer.

  JACK HAD shouted a curse. It was nothing new from the good old Organization man, not even when his world had been turned upside down or at the very least had been rocked.

  He felt his strides become single, torturous ones. It took minutes to complete two paces. He struggled to glance at his watch. It had stopped working. How would he ever reach the site at this pace? The annoying bird above him continued to circle and soar. Somehow he was enveloped in an event affecting the ground only. It was the best he could figure. It probably meant the power source was connected with the ground. It also meant the investigators were progressing—without him!

  AS EVERYONE dusted themselves off, Evan estimated the time loss to be a little short of half an hour.

  “Great, we’ve lost valuable time,” DJ remarked.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Mitchell said to DJ. “If I’m right, that little disturbance has pointed us in the right direction.” To Rusty he said, “I think we should try this room.” Mitchell pointed at it. “Looks like some kind of kitchen.”

  Rusty remarked. “Yes, sustantivo: a kitchen garden, perhaps.”

  “What is this thing?” Mitchell asked. It was hollow, and its stone shell casing matched his height.

  “It’s something akin to a cauldron,” Evan answered. “I’ve seen this in Russia. It may be one of other such power sources in the world.”

  Iris bit her lip. She recalled Galloway stating the previous defense system had failed in Russia.

  Gavin peered at it. “It looks shell like. So, the question is: if this is the source, where do we plug in?”

  Evan glanced at the wrapped object he held. “Gavin, I was hoping you could tell us.”

  Gavin scrubbed a hand across his face. “I guess we better find out quickly before everything starts to shimmer in rainbow colors and shake.”

  Kassidy snorted. “I kind of liked that part.”

  As Evan unraveled the artifact from its blanket, Darian proceeded to grumble low guttural sounds at first that rose in pitch and emotion to outright shrieks.

  “No! We can’t do this! I won’t allow it!”

  With Evan caught like a doe in headlights, Darian whisked the artifact into his arms. “You’ve got to let her go. You’ve got to let her go.” His repeated words bounced throughout the canyon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A PERIMETER formed around Darian. Rarely speaking the last few days, he had become almost invisible. With the artifact in his possession, he had become the team’s central focus.

  Mitch waved an open-palmed hand at him. Iris interpreted it to mean: Just please don’t do anything to the dial! She could only guess from his gestures. She was no longer mind sharing with her scientist boyfriend.

  Mitchell’s gaze shifted from Darian to DJ. Again, Iris interpreted the meaning: He trusts you. Do something!

  DJ responded. “Honey, please. Just slow down and breathe. Tell us about this woman. We are confused and want to understand.”

  “She’s my aunt.” His exhalations were those of a runner. Iris surmised they had to calm him down soon before a catastrophe occurred. Who knew what or who else the dial might affect if possessed by a scared, angry person? Would it mirror his emotions? Iris didn’t like where her mind was taking her. She grabbed DJ’s outstretched hand.

  “We’re here for you, Darian,” Iris said. “We’re not just a team, we’re family. You can tell us about anything. Please, set the dial down.”

  “Damn it! Is that all you care about? What kind of family is that?”

  Iris held her hands out like stop signs. “No, Darian. I didn’t mean that.”

  She glanced at DJ. Her ghost-channeling sister seemed to be saying to her: Shut up! You’re making this worse.

  Only problem was, Iris didn’t feel her usual telepathic link to her sister. She had to guess interpret like she had done earlier with Mitchell. In any event, she had little time to wonder why.

  DJ continued, “Tell me about your aunt. It’s me DJ. You can confide in me.”

  Iris felt some of the stress balling in her neck release. Good. DJ is directing the conversation between the two of them. Not the entire group. She’s personalizing it. I guess she will make a great public speaker, or politician, someday.

  Darian shook his head. Spittle flew. “I don’t know if I can. You won’t understand the significance. The one person I’m doing this for . . .” His lips trembled. “It won’t make much scientific sense. And that’s pretty screwed up because I think of myself as a rationalist.”

  “It’s normal, Darian,” DJ responded. “Look at me and my mom. You would think I would want her around. But I’ve chased her spirit away.”

  “But you’re not doing that anymore. You said you’ve spoken to her.”

  “That’s right, Darian, I have. I am conflicted as well. It’s a human thing. It’s not wrong. It’s not unscientific.”

  When Darian’s breathing settled, he recounted his story about his ill aunt. She had been sick for the past few years, and all Darian could do for her was visit. He said it made him feel powerless. His aunt had been in a precarious position. She was too sick to leave bed, but not quite ill enough to pass. She was caught in an impasse. Almost, Darian said, as if she were a spirit trapped between the living and dead world. He said he wouldn’t have believed in such a thing possible before meeting DJ and believing in her ghost mom. He could see why DJ wanted her mom to move on. Despite missing a person he dearly loved, he felt it best if his aunt was allowed to move on so as not to cause her any more misery. It was why he empathized with DJ’s situation. He had never been able to articulate it before. He kept his grief for his aunt contained. All words amounted to were whining. He never wanted to complain about his aunt’s condition and diminish her existence in such a negative fashion.

  “Words won’t help, doctors don’t help, worst of all, I can’t help. But things can be different,” Darian explained. “If we allow the light to penetrate, it will exterminate the weak, like my aunt. She will be allowed her passing. It’s the one thing I can give her. So, you see, it would be very selfish of me to stand by and allow her to live in such a degraded condition.”

  Iris squatted. She didn’t want to instill any more fear in Darian. She wanted to appear small.

  She held out her hands. “Darian, I understand your reasoning. It’s emotional and it’s also logical.” She smiled half-heartedly. “If there can be such an existence. Anyway, you’ve got to hear me out on this. I am coming at this from a selfish angle as well. I’ve mistakenly kept things from my own investigative team believing it would shelter them. We do believe the weak will perish if the light weapon discharges. Not only might sick people in hospitals perish, but people who have weakened their ability to fight off disease because of dependability on inoculations. Forgive me if I can’t explain this correctly, but Evan told me people who have been inoculated have weakened their ability to produce antibodies. They will absorb the light and experience it as a foreign agent. And when they go to resist it, their bodies will enter a weakened state. They likely won’t survive their own transformation. Now, to be selfish and totally self absorbed by my own motivation, I’ve learned your friend, and mentor, will likely die because of this.”

  Darian’s eyes scanned Mitchell’s face. His expression was quizzical, disbelieving.

  “That’s correct, Darian. Mitchell will likely die if we don’t act to stop the weapon. I know this is selfish of me to confuse your decision. Your aunt certainly holds just as much weight in any consideration. But I do love Mitchell. I love him more than I have cared to admit, and I don’t want to lose him. I don’t think you want to lose Mitchell either. You see then, it’s complicated, to coin a phrase. Wouldn’t it be better to let us try and succeed or fail, then let fate’s cards land where they may? Your aunt is already sick. Mitchell is young and well. He has proven how much he can contribute to society. I’m not saying he’s
in any way, shape, or form better than your aunt, but I want you to consider Mitchell.”

  A long moment passed. Iris listened to Darian wheeze and gasp. It was as if he was living the longest, most torturous day of his existence. To Iris it proved, in that moment, that we all had souls. Whether any scientist wanted to doubt that or not, in that moment of Darian’s struggle, she was certain it was his soul, and less his mind, that was burdened by this dilemma.

  Darian began to cry. He stepped forward and handed the dial to Evan. He tried to speak but tears choked him. His voice warbled. But Iris was certain Mitchell knew what the young man was saying.

  A moment passed and Darian regained his voice. He told Mitchell exactly what Iris had thought she heard seconds earlier. “I didn’t know, Mitchell. I wouldn’t have done this if I had considered someone else. I was not only selfish but wrong. I shouldn’t have taken fate in my hands. Iris is wise. We should be accepting of whatever transpires. But damn it, I don’t want to see you . . . die.” His voice broke again. The two men embraced each other.