by Al Turner
He waited until he was sure of no further interruptions.
“Two insanely smart guys, the Dasinger brothers, were known through the scientific community for their work in physics. They invented some method to cross into another dimension or something like that. Don’t ask me how it worked, because that shit is far beyond my comprehension.”
Pops sighed as Tripp’s hand immediately went up. “Yes, Tripp?”
“Would that be the Trapdoor Key—the device for opening a wormhole?”
“Okay, I see you’ve absorbed the science mumbo jumbo, so I won’t sound stupid trying to repeat it,” Pops said with some relief. “Aye, that’s basically it. Although, that wasn’t their big project—it just so happened to be what caught everyone’s attention.”
“What was the big project, then?” Tripp asked.
“Who cares,” Carson said with annoyance. “Let’s get to the good stuff.”
“Right. It’s outside the scope of this tale. Now no more interruptions,” Pops said.
Before continuing, he reached into his brown jacket and produced a flask. After a quick drink of whiskey, he cleared his throat. He spotted Carson’s interest in the flask and tossed it to her. She downed a swig before returning it to him.
“Okay, so the good doctors had found a way to rip open a hole and shoot stuff through it. This represented some serious potential for whoever might get their hands on it. Naturally, the US government was ready to apprehend the two men and seize all their work. The guild had learned about it from our intelligence sources in the CIA. We, the Guild of Libra, had an emergency meeting—the Chamber of Ten, plus two captains—and decided the discovery was far too dangerous for one government to control. The only problem was, as with earlier decisions, the guild was of two minds on how to proceed. Many, like Fumi and I, wanted to follow tradition and monitor what happened first. Our usual method was to monitor and mold the outcome behind the scenes. However, some felt a more radical approach was needed.”
Pops paused to take another drink. He quickly regretted it, as Carson stopped pacing and took the opportunity to pounce with her next question.
“No offense, Poppy, but what’s this got to do with our dad and uncle?”
“I’m getting to that point. It helps to have some background, don’t ya think?” Pops said hoarsely. He had to take another shot from his flask.
“Gotcha . . . sorry.”
“Anyway, blah . . . blah . . . blah, the guild was divided about what to do next. Fumi and I decided to monitor the Echo platform in the Gulf. It was a good thing we did too, as I ended up rescuing the crew of the Dream Stream—including Shelby’s dad and ol’ Jitters. It was the vessel used to transport equipment to the Echo platform. Fumi arrived shortly afterward and dragged a single survivor out of the water. Shelby had fallen off the rig and managed to avoid getting sucked into the unknown. After that, he left the CIA and worked as a freelancer.”
“That crazy dude Shelby was there?” asked Carson.
“He was.”
“Is that how he knew Dad? How did Dad get into the cavern?”
“Patience. I’m getting to that part,” Pops said.
“Oh, good.” Carson sat on the floor beside Daniel.
Pops was getting to the tough part and needed another dose of liquid courage. “We got lucky, or so we thought, in that the CIA already had operatives in place—and the guy in charge of that operation was a member of the guild. On Echo, Shelby was assigned to monitor the results. For the cavern, the CIA had borrowed a young naval intelligence officer for the task. Imagine my surprise when I learned his name was Conner Page.”
Pops waited for “No shit” and other comments to die down before he continued.
“Conner was skilled and intelligent. He had tested off the charts and could’ve done anything he desired. But for his own reasons, he joined the military,” Pops said. “Our guild operative in the CIA figured that Conner, being my son, would certainly do the guild’s bidding. He was wrong. Conner hadn’t joined the Navy so he could serve the guild.”
“He wanted the US government to have those secrets?” asked Tripp.
“That’s right. It was the last thing the upper echelon of the guild wanted to hear,” said Pops.
“Did you feel betrayed?”
Pops looked away, conscious that the others could see the emotion in his eyes. He decided to continue so he didn’t reveal more pain. “I did, but not by Conner. I already knew he hated the guild. He felt it was an old solution that had become the current problem. It didn’t help that Conner had adamantly turned down two offers to join the guild. His hatred for his mother, the embodiment of all things wrong with that secret organization, was just too great.”
“He hated her?” Carson asked sadly.
“For good reason,” Pops said. “Stella had tried to break him, just as she did his older brother. The witch had made Brad her own brainwashed meat puppet. Conner and he were very close, so naturally the more self-absorbed of the two set out to prove he was smarter and stronger willed than the woman who bore him. Stella had met her match in her own child. Conner was both her greatest student and biggest disappointment.”
“How old was he at the time?” asked Tripp.
“He was fourteen before I got my head outta my ass and rescued both boys from that insane bitch,” said Pops, the bitterness swelling within him. “Stella and I had been separated for some time. I guess it never occurred to me that the mother of my boys would bring her work home and practice on them.”
“How did Conner endure while his brother was broken?” Daniel asked.
Pops smiled as he thought back. “Stella had a wicked brilliance about her, which is what made her so effective for the guild. But Conner was as stubborn as a mule. He endured her abuse, learned everything she had taught him, and then used it against her. She wasn’t accustomed to having the same mind games she played herself turned on her. After I took the two away from that nightmare, Stella soon had a nervous breakdown.”
“I bet it took a while to deprogram him,” Daniel said.
“It was a challenge, Daniel, but Conner really wanted to return to reality. Brad, however, was never the same,” Pops said with melancholy in his voice.
“Just to be clear.” Carson rose to her feet, her fists clenched. “Dad was our crazy grandma’s—What did you call it?—meat puppet?”
“I think Pops is saying that she was an overbearing control freak who made it her mission to mold her own children into subservient drones,” said Tripp.
“I know what Poppy meant by the term, dipshit,” replied Carson. “But it’s just stupid. Dad is one of the kindest, most rational people I’ve ever met. He’s thoughtful in everything he does.”
“You’re right, baby girl. I’ve been trying to spoon-feed this story to you, but the reality is dysfunctional.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Carson. “Just spit it out, Poppy.”
Pops watched his granddaughter start to pace again. “If you’re willing to listen, I’ll explain.”
“Please proceed, Pops,” said Tripp. “And if you’d be so kind, please clarify exactly what our grandmother did for the guild.”
“She created monsters,” Pops said. “The man who killed Sanchez was a product of that woman’s programming.”
Carson turned pale. “Really? Then I need to pay that old bitch a visit. First, tell me something. For a monster, my dad seems to be a pretty good fella. How is that?”
Almost there, Pops told himself. “I’m getting to that. Remember, you asked for it.”
Carson rolled her eyes, then bowed to encourage him to continue.
“Back to the disaster,” said Pops. “Our guy in the CIA had to send a new operative in once he realized Conner wasn’t his man. He couldn’t remove Conner, though he tried, because my clever son had got in good with both scientists. Once they understood how gifted he really was, they insisted he stay on the project. Another operative was brought in, a young man who was also a guild m
ember, unlike Conner. More importantly, this man was sympathetic to the more radical elements of the guild. There was no way he was going to allow that experiment to happen. As a bonus, he used Conner to get his foot in the door. He was quite good at manipulation. It was the ultimate betrayal.”
Daniel was intrigued. “How could anyone use Conner?”
Pops took one more drink and swallowed hard. “Only Brad could’ve pulled that one off. Conner had a soft spot for him. Even though their relationship had been strained, Conner wanted nothing more than to reconnect with his big brother. Brad used that to his advantage. He was the perfect choice.”
“How did that even come about?” Tripp asked, perplexed.
“My old friend, Alan Lloyd, recruited Brad for the job—behind my back, of course,” Pops replied. “He and I settled things later when the dust cleared. It’s his son, Victor, who wants to return the favor.”
“I’m hearing nothing more than that Dad was a brainwashed puppet, while Conner was so cool,” said Carson. She started to stomp off but suddenly turned. “I’m done with this. Does my dad even know you think so little of him?”
“Young lady, I have the utmost respect for him,” said Pops.
“Then why do you say these things about him, Poppy? Carson asked.
Even with his poor vision, Pops could see the tears in her eyes. “I’ve said all along that your dad survived his personal nightmare. His brother Brad wasn’t so fortunate.”
Carson’s jaw dropped. “What are you saying?”
“If you haven’t figured out by now that Conner’s your dad, then you’ve got tunnel vision, baby girl.”
Carson screamed in horror at the revelation, her cries echoing throughout the cavern. She turned and retreated into the darkness.
Pops rose to follow her, but Tripp blocked his path.
Tripp turned to Daniel. “Go after her,” he said to his friend.
Daniel rose and followed Carson.
Pops studied his grandson. “You, of course, understand what I’m saying.”
“Even though I suspected, the confirmation is dizzying,” Tripp replied, visibly shaken.
“When did you start to figure it out?” Pops asked.
“Grandma Stella handed Carson a picture of our parents when they were young. I noted how tall each brother was in comparison to Mom.”
Pops nodded. “Conner ended up being the tallest of all my sons.”
“Dad is five inches taller than Mom.”
Pops wiped a tear that insisted on forming in his right eye. If anyone had asked, he would have said it was allergies. “Young Tripp, your sister needs to come to grips with this.”
“She just needs to overcome her preconceived notions, Pops,” Tripp said.
“I fear there’s only one person who can help her do that,” Pops said.
THE SECRET PAGE
Silently, in the cavern located above where the others were, he watched what had unfolded via the camera feed sent to his phone. It broke his heart to see Carson learn the truth so abruptly. Tripp and Daniel could resort to logic and reason, but Carson was an emotional powder keg. He wished Pops had taken the time to deliver the truth in smaller doses.
Lifting the balaclava up to conceal all but his eyes again, he headed for the elevator. The old lift groaned as it made its way down to the lower level. As it reached the bottom with a thud, he opened the antiquated door and cage—which screeched and announced his arrival.
Taking his phone out again, he accessed an app that adjusted the lights to allow a glow to form in the center of the cavern’s chamber. He proceeded to that spot, listening as he quietly reached the lit-up area. In the shadows to his left, he could hear Carson’s soft wailing. She had decided to kick a rock and cursed from the pain that ensued.
He watched as Pops spotted him and drew his .45 caliber pistol. The old man approached with caution. “You kids stay back,” he called out.
He raised his hands when Pops closed in. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined this would play out.”
Pops holstered his weapon and stepped into the illuminated area. “It’s about damn time you showed up.”
Wearing combat fatigues, his face still hidden, he lowered his hands. He stared out from the balaclava, looking for the others. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and his pistol stayed holstered. He took a few steps toward Pops, then stopped. “I’ve been busy.”
“So I’ve heard.” Pops glanced back at the others approaching from different directions. “Thanks for getting your little brother, Joe, safely off.”
“Of course. He’s a good man.”
“Indeed,” said Pops.
“Ryder and his team left shortly before you arrived.”
“Ryder,” said Pops. “We owe that bastard and whoever sent him.”
“He received a down payment today. I’m hoping he leads us to whoever his masters are.”
“We’ve a pretty damn good idea where to start, son.”
Tripp had come in from behind Pops, while Carson and Daniel emerged from where they had disappeared earlier. Carson was having trouble walking on her own.
“Son?” Carson asked as she hobbled into the light. “You’re Uncle Conner. You must be our dad’s brother—you even sound like him.”
“Carson Ann Page, your grandfather’s already pointed out that there’s no Uncle Conner.” He removed the cap and balaclava, revealing his clean-shaven face, sandy-blond hair, and, of course, those eyes. “Your uncle Brad died before you were born.”
“Dad?” Carson’s voice trembled and she staggered backwards. “What the shit happened to your beard? . . . your eyes . . . that hair!”
Jack moved farther into the light so the others could see him better. “This is what I look like when I’m not hiding from the world.” He tossed something to the group, which Daniel caught.
After examining the contents of the small case, Daniel said, “Colored contacts.”
“I—I don’t get it, Dad. Why?” Carson asked.
Jack slowly closed the distance between himself and Carson, then gently placed a hand on her shoulder. He struggled with where to start. “It was far too dangerous to be Conner Page,” he said.
At that, Tripp and Daniel moved in around Jack and Carson.
“So, you’re actually Conner Page?” Daniel asked, visibly stunned. “The legendary, badass Page himself?”
“My suspicions were correct, but it’s still hard to comprehend,” Tripp said. “You must explain, sir.”
“First, call me Dad like you’ve always done,” Jack said. “Next, it would take more time than we have to explain everything. You’ll have to accept the condensed version.”
Carson pulled back from him. “Dad, you’re Jack Page, right?”
Jack looked at his daughter with empathy. “For most of my life, I’ve been Jack Page,” he said. “It’s a lot to take in, sweetie. I had to assume my dead brother’s identity or I, too, would have been killed. I couldn’t bring myself to go by Brad’s first name, so I adopted his middle name.”
“But why?” Carson asked.
“Because I extinguished the lives of several people—ones with powerful connections.”
Carson started to shake. Jack knew she was fighting a panic attack and quickly grabbed both her hands. “Remember your breathing,” he said calmly.
“Okay,” she said and practiced slow, deep breaths. After a moment, she continued her questioning. “Did ya get your vengeance?”
“That was my intent, but I soon realized that revenge was just an emotional, knee-jerk reaction on my part. My brother made his own decisions. My rage was simply a way to blame someone else.”
“Then why have you always acted like you have survivor’s guilt?”
Jack’s eyes immediately teared up. He didn’t want to say it but knew he had to get it off of his chest. “It is guilt, but not for the reason you may think. In this cavern that day, while things were falling apart, Brad admitted he was responsible for what was happening. My
words to him were quite harsh, to say the least.”
“Well, duh,” said Carson. “He got everyone killed.”
“I guess he figured we were all dead anyway. It was his final confession, I suppose,” said Jack. “But I wasn’t one to give up. We found a way to avert complete disaster, but it came at a cost.”
The others stood silently as Carson tried to ease her dad’s conscience. “But you saved the ones you could.”
Jack gave a feeble smile. “Actually, the ones in the cavern were the least of our concern. This thing had the potential to kill far more people. No, my daughter, I don’t regret any of that. What haunts me is, I knowingly sent my brother to his death. I used him to buy Dr. Dasinger and I the time to find another solution, knowing he’d die the instant we tried it.”
Everyone silently processed what they had heard.
It was Pops’ brusque voice that broke the silence. “You did what you had to do, son.”
“It doesn’t make it all better, Pops,” said Jack.
“I know that as well as anyone,” Pops said.
Jack decided to change the direction of the conversation as Carson hugged him. “I have to finish what I’ve started. If I don’t, things will get much uglier,” said Jack.
“Let ’em get ugly.” Carson pulled away so she could wipe her runny nose. “It’s more important that you’re safe.”
Jack appreciated the gesture but knew there was a bigger picture. “There’s far more at stake here than just me or this family.”
“We’ll take care of ol’ Victor and Stella’s cronies,” Pops said.
“Pops, this isn’t just about cleaning house. Those people are after us for a reason. That reason is this cavern and what it holds.”
“Not a problem, son.” Pops reached into his coat pocket and produced some of the C4 he’d taken from Jack’s secret room. “I can fix that problem real quick.”
“No, sir, you can’t,” Jack said sternly. “You could blow this place to pieces all day long and that anomaly will still be there.”
“So? I bet Poppy can bury it so nobody ever finds it,” Carson said, starting to return to her normal self.