“I know one thing,” Ian said. “If they don’t feed me soon, I may wring the neck of the next little grey guy I see and find a way to roast him.”
“Probably tastes like chicken,” Erika joked, though she had no desire to find out.
Her stomach rolled over with hunger. She took up position beside Dr. Randall, her back pressed against the cold, hard wall. She tried not to think about ice cream and her favorite food, a veggie burrito covered in her mom’s red chile sauce.
Thinking about her mom made her want to cry. Somehow, a billion miles away, Tina was less like a hot-mess-of-a-worn-out alcoholic and more of a mom than Erika typically considered her. Before Erika’s dad died, Tina had taken care of Erika when she was sick. She’d cooked and taken her to school. She’d talked to her and been there for her. At least most of the time.
And now, her belly aching from hunger, Erika’s mind focused on memories of family holidays filled with feasts her mom had prepared. Erika clung to those memories now in the dim, dark, cold emptiness that surrounded her. She played them over and over in her mind until she could almost smell roasting chiles and sizzling onions.
Erika’s lids were heavy again. Why am I so tired? She was about to fall asleep again when the door slid open. Her survival instinct and hatred of confined spaces had her on her feet in an instant, but not fast enough to get out the door. It slid closed before she’d taken a step toward it.
A lone creature stood just inside the door. This one was about a half a foot taller than the ones that had brought Dr. Randall.
Erika braced herself to feel the painful buzz fill her head. But it didn’t happen. Instead the being spoke out loud.
“I am designation Xenos. I have been sent to welcome you to Tro.”
6
JACK
Did I hear Sewell right? It sounded like he said he’d help me. Jack waited motionless and silent.
“You will have to wait a few days while we clear this place out. Lie low. Can you do that?”
Jack wanted to get home alive. It had already been over two weeks. If he had to wait a few more days in order to get out of the stinking place in one piece, he could do that. He nodded.
“Good. You know where Dr. Randall was living?”
Jack whispered, “Yes.”
Sewell was bent down, pretending to look for something in the bushes. “You can stay there until I come for you. There should be food left. Enough, anyway, to get you by. And it’s probably a bit better than the crud Sturgis was feeding you guys.”
Jack’s stomach rumbled. He’d been so focused on escape, he’d ignored the fact that he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten.
He knew he should remain quiet, but he couldn’t resist asking the question that plagued his mind. “You’re going to let me go? Just like that?”
Sewell stood and moved to the clump of bushes next to where Jack stood. “Not exactly.”
Of course not. It couldn’t be that easy.
“You must understand that you cannot go home right now. Your friends are gone. The cover story was that you all were kidnapped and presumed dead. If you come home – alone – there will be questions. You will be a suspect. And the only way out of A.H.D.N.A. is the train. You’ll be arrested as soon as you get off without proper credentials.”
Jack hadn’t considered how it would look for him to roll into town alone while Erika and Ian were still missing. It had never crossed his mind that he could end up in jail over the whole mess. He knew Tex had escaped, but he didn’t know how. His head swam.
“I can get you out of Aphthartos. But there will be a quid pro quo. We will discuss the details in a few days when I come for you.”
Even if he couldn’t go home yet, he’d do nearly anything for the promise of leaving A.H.D.N.A. and never returning.
“Our time is short. Remain here in the shadows. I’ll ensure they leave this area alone for now. As soon as we’ve cleared out, get yourself to Dr. Randall’s former abode. Stay there and stay hidden. I will come for you.”
“But I –”
“There’s no more time to talk. We’ll speak more in a few days. I must go.”
Without waiting for Jack to say anything further, Sewell walked briskly away. His footsteps echoed on the bricks, and then he was out of earshot.
Jack eased himself behind the bushes and sat on the cold brick pavers. The otherwise quiet town was filled with the gross sound of bodies being dragged across pavement and of a soldier calling names off the dog tags while another crossed the names read off a list. They transferred the bodies and body parts to a large army truck and drove them out of Aphthartos and back into A.H.D.N.A., presumably to incinerate them as they’d been instructed.
Jack’s butt cheeks were icy cold and his legs had gone numb when Sewell finally called a halt to work for the day. “Let’s call it a day. We’ll come back down tomorrow and finish in here.”
None of the soldiers disagreed. They talked about getting dinner, and Jack wondered how they could eat after handling bloody bodies all afternoon.
Jack waited until he no longer heard the shuffle of feet or the din of conversation echo off the walls. When the place was entirely silent, Jack sat up on his haunches and peered over the bushes. His legs and feet tingled with the pins and needles sensation of blood flow returning. He was filled with relief that he was, at long last, alone.
Jack stood, swung his arms and rolled his head on his neck. It was good to move and breathe freely. He was fairly certain that all of Sturgis’ mercenary men had cleared out, but just in case, he stayed low and jogged down the street that led to house number 232-A. Down the brick-paved avenue lined with the eerie green glow of genetically modified trees that acted as streetlights. Back to the house where they’d found Dr. Randall. Back to one of the last places he’d seen Erika.
The locking mechanism beside the door was still black from when Ian had shot it. The door was still ajar as though they had just come out of it a few seconds ago. Jack took the stairs in one large step but stopped on the porch just outside the door. A pitch-black entryway stared back at him. He took a deep breath, entered the house and closed the door behind him.
Jack spent three days in Dr. Randall’s stale, smelly townhouse. There was no television, computer or phone. He assumed the soldiers came back to finish cleaning things up in the town square, but he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear them if they were there. No one came to the door, and there was nobody in the street.
He rummaged through the refrigerator and rifled through the doctor’s musty books. Dr. Randall had several books on biochemistry and genetics. Jack tried to read a few pages, but the science was beyond him. The only fiction was a worn copy of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. Odd choice of reading material.
Jack decided on Dickens over biochemistry. The language was dated and Jack was unfamiliar with the details of the historical period involved. It was better than chemistry but still nearly impossible to muddle through. He’d read a page and realize he had no idea what he’d read.
His mind was a jumble and his stomach in knots. He was safe – for now. But in his gut, he worried that Erika and Ian weren’t. And he had no way to communicate with them let alone help them. I’ve got to remember to ask Sewell if there’s a way to contact them.
Jack sat on the floor in the small living room, staring at a page in the Dickens book, when someone tromped up the stairs of the porch. His heart rate quickened. He quietly closed the book and crept to the wall by the door. The lock was still broken from where Ian had shot it, so there was no swoosh of a card through a reader.
The door flew open and a voice whispered, “Are you still here, Mr. Wilson?”
Sewell. Jack peered around the wall. Mr. Sewell stood alone just inside the door. His face was its usual bright pink. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his face as he glanced around.
“I’m here,” Jack said. He came out into the small vestibule.
“Ah, good. I
trust you were able to find something edible here?”
Jack nodded. Edible was about all he could say for the canned tuna and stale saltines he’d lived off of for three days.
“I assume you’d like to get out of this place.”
“And never set foot here again. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go into a basement without suffering from PTSD.”
Sewell laughed. It wasn’t the nervous twittery laugh Jack had heard from Sewell before. It was honest and from the gut.
“I can see that. Life below ground isn’t for everyone. How Croft thinks that the Makers and their families will live here for long periods – years even – is beyond me.”
“Is that what this was built for?” Jack was going bonkers after only a week without sun. He didn’t wish a life underground on his worst enemy.
Sewell nodded. “Courtesy of the U.S. taxpayer. Of course, regular guys like you and me won’t be asked to the party. Only the elites of the world, handpicked by the Makers. Well, by one of them anyway.”
“That Croft guy?”
“Yes.”
Jack had heard theories about a so-called ‘New World Order’, N.W.O., on UFO and alien conspiracy shows he watched. Everything from the Nazis to the symbols on the dollar bill to the Denver airport were implicated in N.W.O. theories. He hadn’t given the theories credence. Aliens were one thing. He could buy wormholes and interstellar travel by beings potentially millions – even billions – of years ahead of humans. Turned out to be true. But he’d never bought that the whole world was run by a handful of super-rich, mega-powerful people. In his experience, it was hard to get three people to agree on something let alone a whole group of them. Besides, there were too many democracies in the way to let that happen.
“I don’t get it,” Jack said. “Why build this? How did they know about the aliens? And this war Sturgis kept yammering about. Is it for real? And everyone who’s not down here are supposed to what?”
“Die.” Sewell said it matter-of-factly and without a hint of sarcasm.
Jack had been fighting against helplessness before Sewell arrived. After all, he was on Earth, and Erika and Ian were – well, not on Earth. But now, the puzzle pieces were falling into place. Croft and his buddies had known for years that the greys were coming to kick our pathetic human asses and they used taxpayer dollars to build themselves an insurance policy à la Aphthartos.
Hope drained from Jack like a siphon was hooked up to him. He was dizzy. Whether it was from the new information or from three days of surviving on crackers and tuna fish, he didn’t know. Mom. Now he could add worry for his mother’s safety to his growing list of people who were going to die, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. For some reason his brain called up a mundane memory of his mom tossing him the key to her car.
“You drive,” she’d said.
They were heading off to school. His mom was an English teacher then and Jack a sophomore at Scottsdale High School. Jack had just gotten his license. He slid behind the wheel and his mom buckled into the passenger seat. After buckling himself in, he glanced over at her and she had the most beautiful smile on her face.
“What?” he’d asked.
She chuckled. “You just – you look like your father. You know, I knew him when he was your age.”
“I’m … sorry?” Jack couldn’t help what he looked like, but it made him feel bad that he was a constant reminder to her of the man who’d broken her heart.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Not your fault that he turned out to be a scum-sucking bag of –” Her smile had faded. “No. I don’t want to think of him like that.”
“Like he is, you mean.”
“Maybe.” She took a deep breath and shook her arms out in front of her as though she could shake out the knowledge that Jack’s dad had left them and run off to the East Coast somewhere with a woman half his age. “Does no good to dwell on the ugly stuff. Now, my handsome chauffeur, to school.”
Jack couldn’t bear the idea that his mom would be a casualty of the war Sewell spoke of. A lump came to Jack’s throat.
“Die? That’s not the only option, is it? I mean, we have enough nukes on this planet to wipe out a whole alien army, right? Come on, Sewell, tell me our government – the real government – has a plan.”
“I’d like to reassure you, but I cannot. Further, I do not have the answers to all of your questions. Honestly, I’m not sure any one person does. Even Commander Sturgis was told only what she needed to know to do her job. She was to create hybrids. She was told it was for an upcoming war. That’s it. I suppose Croft is the only one that knows everything.”
“And he’s not likely to sit down to tea with me and have a chat, is he?”
Sewell shook his head. “I’ve arranged for you to stay in Tucson with Anna Sturgis.”
Jack’s breakfast nearly came back up. “Wait – what? A Sturgis?”
“She’s Commander Sturgis’ niece.”
“I don’t care if she’s the Pope’s niece. If her last name is Sturgis, I don’t want to be within a hundred yards of her.”
Sewell crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you plan to stay here, then? Croft will likely order a full sweep of the place in preparation to occupy it. And eventually you’ll run out of canned tuna.”
“Sewell – man, there’s got to be some other person – some other place.”
“It’s complicated, Mr. Wilson. And we must be on our way. I need Anna to help me, and Anna will need you.”
“And you cleared this with her? With Anna, I mean?”
Sewell nodded. “Come. It’s a long walk to the platform and we don’t want to miss the train.” Sewell exited Dr. Randall’s house of forced retirement and walked briskly down the sidewalk toward the center of Aphthartos.
Jack was winded after just a few minutes of trying to keep up with Sewell. They hurried through the darkened corridors of A.H.D.N.A., lit only by the pale, bluish-white LED lights along the edges of the hallways and the flashing red bulbs in the ceiling. Everyone had been evacuated – or killed – when the alien ship arrived, and A.H.D.N.A. still thought it was in lockdown. It made the corridors look like mini runways. Jack lost track of how many zigs and zags it took to reach their destination.
Sewell used his keycard and thumbprint to open a last set of doors that led to what looked like a narrow subway platform. He glanced at his watch (worn on his right wrist not his left) and wiped his face again with his hanky. “Just made it.” Sewell’s voice sounded winded. “Train’ll be here any minute.”
Jack leaned against a concrete column and tried to catch his breath. “What did you tell this Anna about me?”
“The truth.” Sewell glanced back at Jack. “Of sorts, anyway.”
Jack raised his left eyebrow. “Truth, huh? Up to now all I’ve seen of the world you live in is secrets and lies.”
“A truth. That her aunt is in trouble and needs her help.”
“And how did you fit me into all this? Did you tell her that her dear aunt Sturgis tried to have me killed?”
Sewell coughed nervously. “Well, I stretched the truth there. I told her you were the son of one of her aunt’s allies and that you needed a place to lie low for a while. Anna has a very high opinion of her aunt. I didn’t want to – sully that opinion.”
“And this Anna was like, ‘Okay, cool. I’ll let a dude I’ve never met live with me. Sure. Bring him on over’?”
“Something like that.” Sewell checked his watch again.
Sewell was good at being vague when he wanted to be. Jack wasn’t inclined to essentially run away from home, miss more school, let his mom live in misery thinking he was dead, and go stay with some chick he’d never met without more details.
“How much does Anna know about what her aunt does? And more important, how much can I say without men in black showing up and finishing the job Sturgis started?”
Before Sewell could answer, a cool breeze blew Jack’s wavy hair. His skin prickled.
Jack followed Sewell into the train car. The car they entered was made of white molded plastic and brightly lit. It was immaculately clean inside and empty.
“What credentials?” Jack asked.
Sewell sat and fastened his lap belt. “I suggest you do as she said and buckle in. It lurches quite harshly before it gets up to speed.”
Jack buckled up. Within seconds, the train took off and Jack’s head was whipped back from the quick burst of movement. “Man, you weren’t kidding.”
Before long the train was like a cannonball launched into the stone tube. “How long does it take to get there in this thing?” In a car, it would generally take nearly three hours to drive from the Barry Goldwater Range to Davis-Monthan in Tucson.
“A few minutes shy of thirty.”
Jack whistled. “So this thing is going –”
“Very fast.” Sewell reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card that looked like a small piece of clear plastic. He shoved it at Jack. “Your credentials.”
Jack took the card. ‘Steve Harper’, the ID said. It had a picture that if the light was dim and the person looking at it was half blind, might look a little bit like Jack. This Steve Harper on the ID was male and Caucasian. That was where the similarity between them ended.
“Really? You guys have the technology to create an alien-human hybrid and keep a multibillion dollar project secret, but you can’t get me a fake ID that doesn’t look like something a kid at my school whipped up?”
“It’s an authentic ID.”
H.A.L.F.: The Makers Page 4