FreeForm: An Alien Invasion Romance Series (FreeForm Series Book 1)

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  As his eyes adjusted to the reduced light, he spied two dark lumps lying on the ground, one only a few yards from the cave opening, the other further away. His breath caught in his throat. He could just make out the closer figure. It was Pat.

  Allan decided to risk turning his flashlight on. Oliver did the same a couple of seconds later. The two men strolled into the clearing. Allan stooped down to Pat's still form.

  "Please God let her be okay…be okay…be okay,” Allan repeated over and over as he felt for a pulse. Not until he felt one did he dare take a breath. Meanwhile Oliver shined his light on the two of them.

  "Is she all right?” He asked.

  "I think so. She's breathing at least,” Allan replied as he began to check her more closely. He got only as far as her neck.

  "Oh my God, she's been strangled. Her neck looks like someone tried to hang her." A moment later his hand felt the wet, sticky side of her coat. Allan felt a wave of nausea despite his years as a vet. After all, this was the woman he loved.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Allan muttered through clinched teeth. "She's lost a lot of blood."

  Remembering the second form, Oliver picked up Allan's flashlight where he had laid it and shined it in the direction of the other shadow. "I think that's Homlin over there."

  "Go check. I'm okay here,” Allan replied. Oliver laid the still lit flashlight on the ground for Allan and walked over to take a closer look.

  Still holding Pat in his arms, Allan began to clean her wounds and to wipe away the dirt and grime from her face. The cool water began to revive her. Her long lashes fluttered for a couple of seconds before her eyes opened.

  Slowly, as her gaze focused on Allan's face, she smiled and in a weak voice said, "We make quite a team, don't we. We finally got him."

  At the sound of her voice, tears welled up in Allan's eyes and cascaded down his cheeks. He kissed her gently on the lips. Continuing to hold her firmly, he rocked her back and forth -- and wept. This time, they were tears of joy.

  A few minutes later, Oliver returned to his side. “Yep, it’s Homlin, or at least what’s left of him.” He turned to Pat. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

  Pat shrugged, then winced in pain.

  “Oliver, help me get her back to the chopper, will you? She’s pretty banged up herself.”

  “Sure thing,” Oliver replied. They helped Pat up and started walking back the way they came, each of them on either side of her. They’d made it about twenty yards when Pat stopped. “Damn. I hate to ask this, and I know it’s crazy, but could you go fetch the tire iron I used on Homlin. I’d like to keep it, sort of a memento of the day I kicked an alien’s ass.”

  “Sure,” Allan replied. “I’ll go get it. Oliver, help her back to the helicopter. I’ll meet you there.” He turned and retraced his steps.

  He found the bloody wrench lying not far from Homlin’s cooling body. He stared down at the half-man, half-beast, shaking his head. It has been an interesting last few months. He was ready for some normalcy for a change.

  He turned back in the direction of the helicopter, but stopped again after taking a few steps, a cold shiver running up and down his back by the sound of a soft rustling behind him. Homlin was dead, right? He slowly turned back in the direction of the cave where he thought he’d heard the sound. He shined his flashlight at the mouth of the cave. At first he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then slowly, he noticed movement from deep within the cave. As the form moved into the beam of light, Allan heard a familiar sound that threatened to stop his heart.

  “Daddy…”

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a book is a labor of love for me as well as being a wonderful way to express my life purpose. It’s also something that I could not do alone, so I want to thank some of the people who have contributed to this project. My sincerest thanks go to my lovely and patient wife, Ann Swift, who probably wishes she’d read the small print in our marriage contract that states she’d have to read everything I wrote, often multiple of times. Thanks also to Victor Habbick who designed a cover that had me stretch to make the inside worthy of the outside. His work can be viewed online at: www.victorhabbickvisions.co.uk . Much thanks go to Kris Wallace, my proofreader, as well as to my writing buddy, Cynthia Wisehart, who continues to inspire me to keep writing. Last but not least, thank you Mrs. Crabtree for feeling sorry for my mom who I was driving crazy from being so bored. You cared enough about both us to introduce me to the world of books so many years ago.

  Seeds of a New Birth

  by

  Orrin Jason Bradford

  (Pen name of W. Bradford Swift)

  Enjoy this Bonus Sample Chapter

  Unlocking the Potential of the Human Mind

  Scientific Breakthrough…

  Or a Really Bad Idea?

  PART ONE

  THE ACCIDENT

  Chapter 1

  707. This is the room, Flip MacDougal thought. If his information was correct, Lionel Adams should be sitting behind this door. Flip glanced down the hall in both directions. It had been so easy up to this point. Denise was right when she'd told him that breaking into Bio-Vita would be a piece of cake.

  Won't Lionel be surprised to see me here? He tried to imagine the look of astonishment that would be on the man's face, finally deciding it was easier to see it in person. From the pocket of his trench coat he removed a black enameled card, an essential item donated by his new friend. Within the thin layers of plastic resided the magnetic code to this as well as other doors. He ran the card through the small crack in the security lock. The latch silently tumbled open, and a thin ray of light appeared at the edge of the door. Flip pushed it open and walked into the lab.

  Across the room, a lone figure sat on a wooden stool, his back hunched over a binocular microscope. The white lab jacket, draped over angular shoulders, was motionless, its wearer intensely concentrating on the scope. Flip's Reeboks fell one in front of the other, quietly, as though the sound had been cut from the scene on a television detective show. He stood behind the scientist, reveling in the triumph of the moment. Flip lowered the attaché case he'd been carrying to the floor, careful not to disturb the silence. His gloved hand released the handle and slowly joined its partner. The two hands traveled steadily towards the hunched shoulders. As though on cue, Lionel raised his head away from the microscope. Perhaps a premonitory warning had finally knifed its way into his consciousness. The hands continued towards the neck, paused, and then moved again, not to the neck but toward the eyes. The smooth leather caressed the eyes, closing off all light. "Guess who?" Flip asked, his soft voice shattering the silence like an alarm.

  Lionel Adams sat in front of the microscope, entranced by the sight of the mutated cells, unconscious to the sharp pain in his lower back, a product of sitting too long in such a position. It's amazing, he thought, how those tiny flagellated cells could be such an important part of the creation of life. He continued to watch, hoping to find at least one altered in some way. Perhaps it would move a little faster or have a more direct path across the slide; anything that would suggest a change in the cell.

  Only the twitch on his nose was finally able to break his concentration. Sneezing while looking in a microscope can be devastating on your sight, he thought as he looked up for a moment and sniffed in an attempt to hold back the sneeze. Still concentrating, now on the sneeze, the sudden loss of vision followed immediately by a strange voice behind him sent Lionel leaping off of the lab stool. While still in the air, he twisted in an attempt to see who was behind him.

  "What the...who the..." He gasped as he fought to regain his balance. The intruder stumbled back, laughing hysterically, and tripped on something behind him.

  "Oh, God...did I ever get you...Oh, what an expression..."

  Lionel finally found his balance, coming to rest against the counter, his hands grasping it for support. Glaring harshly at the intruder, he tried unsuccessfully to see through the man's disguise.


  "Don't you recognize me?" The stranger asked as he pulled first one glove, then the other, from his hands. Then removing a pair of mirrored sunglasses, he placed all three items in the coat pocket. "Your lifelong friend and fraternity brother?"

  "Flip? Flip MacDougal?" Lionelle stared unbelievingly at the man, unconvinced his old friend could possibly be in his secure, top-secret lab. He slowly recognized the truth. "Flip, can it be...yes, it can. Flip, I swear, I'll strangle you with my bare hands this time."

  Still weakened from the laughter, Flip circled away from his friend.

  "Now Lionel, control yourself. Remember, you're a respected scientist and community leader, or something like that." The two men circled around the stool, exchanging places.

  "I swear, Flip, you've out done yourself this time. If I weren't so glad to see you, your life wouldn't be worth diddly right now. As it is, you still deserve a thorough thrashing." Lionel continued to stalk his old friend, but stopped suddenly as he noticed Flip's hand glide across the lab counter. As though in slow motion, he watched as it collided with the beaker of blue reagent.

  "Watch out..." he began but knew it was too late. "Don't get it..." but stopped again, realizing the second warning was also too late as the beaker tipped over, spilling its contents across the counter.

  "Damn. Sorry about that, Lionel. I hope it wasn't something important." Flip looked around frantically for something to wipe up the spilled liquid. Spying a box of kim-wipes, he yanked several tissues out of the box.

  "No, don't do that," Lionel shouted as he grabbed Flip's wrist, inches from the pooled liquid. "Let me clean this up. Go down the hall and wash your hands thoroughly. Use plenty of soap. I'd let you do it here but I don't keep soap in the lab."

  "No problem." Flip said as he started to wipe his hand on the trench coat then stopped, a look of concern on his face. "Is it acid or something?"

  "No, it's just best that you get it off your hand as soon as possible, that's all. Now go. I'll clean this up." Lionel reached into his pocket and pulled out his ID badge. "Here, take this in case someone stops you. Tell them you've been assigned to this lab."

  "No problem, Li. You know I can always talk my way out of anything. I need to bleed the old snake, anyway."

  "I'm beginning to remember," Lionel replied. He watched until the door closed behind his friend, then quickly grasped a small glass pipette and bulb and began carefully sucking the liquid back into the beaker.

  Flip pushed the door to the men's room open, less concerned with each passing minute the fluid remained on his hand without any adverse effect. With nature calling with increasing urgency, he walked to the nearest urinal and, without bothering to untie his coat, raised its hem and unzipped his pants.

  "Ahhh, the pause that refreshes," he muttered as he stepped a little closer to the urinal. As he finished, he noticed a small pubic hair sticking tenaciously to the tip of his penis. Without thinking, he picked at the hair to remove it. As he did so he felt a stinging at the tip of his penis and realized he'd used the contaminated hand.

  "Shit," he muttered as he quickly shook his penis and returned it to his pants. "I better wash this stuff off before it starts to eat my hand off."

  But the damage had already been done. Microscopically, the complex compound from his hand mixed with the fluids of Flip's organ. Molecule after complex molecule traveled up the urethra. The journey was a slow one but there was plenty of time. The journey would be complete and the near magical molecules would be well seated in the testicular tissue of Flip's sexual organ long before there would be call for him to flush the biological tube again. By then, it would be too late. By then, the seeds of a new birth would have formed in Flip's loins.

  "Important?" Lionel muttered as he worked to save as much of the precious fluid as possible. "Nine months of distillation to get this much template, and it took Flip less than that many seconds to jeopardize my entire project." He shook his head but a smile crept on his face. He had to admit it was good to see the old bastard again.

  Lionel had finished rinsing and collecting the fluid for re-distillation when Flip returned to the lab. Before Flip had a chance to speak, Lionel said, "Don't bother asking me about it, Flip. You know I can't tell you what I'm doing here, but you damn sure better tell me what you're doing here; more importantly, how did you get in?"

  Flip pushed himself onto one of the counters after carefully inspecting it to be sure he didn't repeat the accident. "It was really quite simple, Lionel, but before I tell you, do you promise not to report it to anyone?"

  "You know I wouldn't do anything to get you into trouble."

  "It's not me I'm concerned with. Promise?"

  "Sure."

  "Well, you know the lady that sits at the front door?"

  "Yeah," Lionel replied slowly, a look of recognition appearing on his face. "You mean Denise?"

  "Yes, Ms. Denise Cabbot; very gracious lady. Quite captivating, really."

  "You bribed her, didn't you?"

  "Well, in a manner of speaking, but I want you to know, she really is very good at what she does. When I first approached her, she wouldn't have anything to do with my plan, not until she thoroughly checked my story and verified I was only a slightly sick college buddy with a fondness for playing practical jokes."

  "How did you get to her?"

  "Well you know, the MacDougal charm has always been quite an effective negotiating tool."

  "When do you pay?"

  "Tonight at 8:30. It really was a fantastic bit of negotiating. It was a win-win situation. I win by getting in and scaring be-jesus hell out of my old buddy, and I win again by having the opportunity of going out with a luscious creature of God. Win-win."

  "Flip, when will you ever settle down and get serious about your life?"

  "Lord willing, never, if getting serious means giving up the pursuit of the fairer sex. It's a MacDougal tradition, one I am only too happy to perpetuate. Besides, my philandering gives you an escape, a release valve. If you didn't have my escapades to tsk-tsk about, you'd have to spend some of your precious research time living your own escapades. So you see, in reality, I'm doing my patriotic duty, keeping you here in this lab coming up with the next...what did you say your project was?"

  "Good try, Flip. I didn't, nor will I. How long has it been Flip, two years since you last darkened my doorstep with your shadow?"

  'Two years, three months and fourteen days. I counted it up back at the hotel, while I was planning this latest mission."

  "By the way, where are you staying?"

  "At the Triangle Park Radisson in this most sterile of research parks. I must say you have definitely found your own element here. I would never have dreamed there could be such a concentration of eggheads in such a folksy state as North Carolina, but The Research Triangle has more eggheads than Perdue has chickens."

  "Well, you know you're welcome to stay at my place, although I know you won't."

  "That's right. It cramps my style," Flip replied as he pushed off from the counter. "Besides, the Radisson has more than a passable bar and an indoor pool. My suite has its own whirlpool and..." glancing at his watch, "... if I don't get myself on the road, I'll be late for Ms. Cabbot. I know you wouldn't want to be responsible for that."

  "You tell Denise she has a lot of explaining to do to one special researcher. It'll be a cold day in hell before I forget the fright you gave me."

  "Well, I would imagine that despite her taste of the MacDougal charm she might consider making it up to you in some gracious fashion."

  "No, no. I know better than that. Once they taste a night of MacDougal they're never the same, isn't that what you always say."

  "Yes, that's true, but I wanted to make you feel better."

  Lionel picked up the beaker containing the precious liquid and carefully placed it well out of Flip's reach. "I'll just hang out here in my little dungeon for a few more hours, but will you be around until the weekend?"

  "Oh sure, I have a couple of obligatio
ns in the evenings but I've reserved the entire day time for my old fraternity buddy. And by the way, it would appear from your 'dungeon' that my old buddy is doing quite well for himself here at Bio-Tita-Vet."

  "Bio-Vita-Tech," Lionel corrected. "And yes, they've been very gracious with the grant money. Private industry has certain advantages over the academic scene.”

  "Give me a call later. I'd enjoy a weekend of reminiscing. Should I call security to escort you down?"

  "No, that won't be necessary. I promise I'll leave straight away." Flip stooped to pick up the briefcase.

  "By the way, what's in the briefcase?"

  "What's in the beaker?"

  "You know I can't tell you that."

  "Well then, I'll take the secret of the briefcase to my grave." He grasped the case under his arm securely. "Sure you won't reconsider?"

  "I'll pass, thank you. Remember, straight out. If Security catches you sneaking around, they aren't likely to settle for a date with you."

  After Flip left, Lionel returned to his work area. He glanced around the spacious lab at the glistening beakers and the bright lights of the latest, state-of-the-art equipment. Yes, Bio-Vita-Tech had been good to him, and he had returned in kind many times over. He found himself staring at the diplomas over his desk.

  Upon each one in various forms of Old English type was his name, Lionel J. Adams. Fine peasant stock that had made good, he thought, remembering the words his father had used to describe his only son. And now Jacob Adam's son was on the brink of his most brilliant discovery to date.

  Lionel lifted the small beaker up to the light and slowly swirled the blue liquid. Perhaps, just perhaps, within the small beaker was the breakthrough Lionel had worked so arduously to produce since his graduation from Duke over seven years ago. Could it be that within the molecules of this liquid was the key to unlocking man's true capacity, the ninety to ninety-seven percent of the mind which man had, up to this point in his evolution, been unable to tap? It was too early to be sure, but already there had been some remarkable breakthroughs.