“No, this is as far as I dare take you.”
“What? You’re gonna throw me to the wolves?”
Gonzales paused for just a moment. “Ray, your dad saved my life a dozen times in ’Nam. He brought my Anna back to me. I owe him a lot more than I could ever repay.
“But I have to think about my own ass too. If they catch me in there, it’s a court martial, loss of pension, jail, you know the score. I’ve got to protect Anna. I’ve got to think about her and the kids for a change. I’m supposed to be getting out this year. I can’t put them in danger. I’ve already taken a great risk getting you this far and that should be enough to get you started on this crazy journey. Once you’re inside that door, I’m out of here.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t worry, Ray, the chance of you getting caught is much less now that none of the guards will be an obstacle…at least for a little while.”
“That really reassures me.”
Before he could continue complaining, however, Gonzales cut him off with a glare. He knew exactly what he was doing and would brook no further discussion of the matter. “Don’t think, Ray; just concentrate on what you gotta do. Now go, and Que Dios te bendiga!” Gonzales’ voice stirred above a whisper, but it struck Ray sharply enough almost to bring him to attention.
Ray turned and walked right through the gate. Just as he reached the door in the stone wall, he almost jumped in fright as he heard a loud clicking sound and an even louder grinding noise as the gate entrance rapidly slid shut, trapping him inside. There was no turning back now.
Ray stared at the little door, lost in thought. He saw the alien woman’s face from his dreams again, more vivid than ever. Again it seemed as if she were actually there, not a vision in his mind’s eye, but flesh and blood, standing before him in the darkness, a vivid yellow glow enveloping her.
Tears welled in her eyes, she pleaded, beckoned him, and he knew he could never turn away.
Ray drew a deep breath and gingerly placed his hands on the knob. He expected it to be locked, but it opened slowly without protest. At this point, after all his apprehension about going to this place, his ease in entering the main complex almost seemed like a sick joke.
Within seconds, he walked inside the compound and weaved his way through an open field.
The oppressive blackness covered the land like a blanket. The searchlights overhead pointed to the skies and didn’t do much to illuminate his surroundings, a lucky break for Ray, considering there were few possibilities of shelter in the desert sands; just a few clusters of bushes here and there.
The crickets put up a mighty chirp, as if competing against one another to make a most unjoyful noise. The sound seemed almost deafening against the otherwise ominous silence. Ray checked again, and sure enough, his trusty flashlight was hidden in his right pocket, the map in the lone rear pocket of his well-worn jeans.
* * *
Gonzales remained hidden behind a nearby rock as he observed the guards snoring away within the compound. He smiled to himself as he saw Ray disappearing among the shadows, and was about to depart.
Suddenly one of the guards started to stretch and stir around, rubbing his eyes. He looked in Ray’s direction.
“Wait a minute, boy! What the hell are you doing here?” It wasn’t a question; it was a demand!
The jig was up!
Chapter 3
The unexpected sound startled Ray; his throat ran dry. He looked behind him as security guards began to run in his direction.
He had to hurry. Maybe they hadn’t seen him…maybe they spotted Gonzales standing outside the base. What to do? He wanted desperately to turn back and help his old friend.
For a moment, the inner conflict bubbled at the surface, and Ray seemed almost oblivious to his surroundings. He remained in the shadows around the wall lining the compound, hoping to remain invisible. For a moment, he recalled that old radio character, “The Shadow,” who would instinctively locate dark corners and doorways to remain hidden from prying eyes.
He heard footsteps in the distance and loud shouts. The words overlapped each other, and Ray wasn’t able to determine if they had seen him.
He had no choice, really; it wasn’t safe here. He stepped up his pace, struggling to conceal himself in the darkness, shielded from the glare of the moving searchlights. Strange that the lights hadn’t been aimed at the ground yet, where everything would clearly be visible, strange indeed.
Ray entered a clump of bushes, sharp cacti, trying to keep up his pace, and stay hidden at the same time. His efforts were too successful. He couldn’t even see obstacles in the gravel beneath his feet and kept tripping over rocks and other sharp outcroppings.
The sharp cactus points scraped and tore at his clothing and skin as he tried to seek safety from the guards, whom Ray expected to swarm the place. A tall branch above rubbed and tore at his forehead.
Hardly a spot on his body didn’t sting with pain. Ray inspected himself in the darkness and felt the cuts on his legs and arms.
His head hurt, and he fervently wished he had brought along the medicine he used to take for those terrible migraines. He slowly brushed his hands against his forehead and felt caked blood.
He must be a sight. His pants and shirt had gaping tears, but his wounds, painful as they were, were no more than deep scratches.
Ray sighed and tried to move slowly about in the close confines where he remained hidden.
I’m just getting too old for this shit.
The crickets stopped chirping, and a frightful silence momentarily consumed the darkness.
Ray heard a sound in the distance, and he strained to identify the source of the noise.
A rattlesnake! They were common in these parts, but normally wouldn’t venture forth at night unless it was unbearably hot. Ray hadn’t given the possibility of their presence much thought.
Ray just wanted to run, get out of there as fast as possible. He heard footsteps. Security guards, no doubt. He didn’t see anyone, but he stayed hidden, again seeking the shelter of the shadows.
The apparent sound of the rattlesnake got closer, accompanied by a slithering noise in the gravel beneath his feet. His goal remained many yards distant, but the sound seemed to increase in intensity, as if something was closing in on him.
Ray began to sweat, but held his breath to a shallow rhythm, moving slowly, deliberately, cautiously, away from that horrible predator.
Closer and closer. The hangar in all its unpretentious glory wasn’t far now, positioned precisely as shown on the map drawn by Gonzales.
Maybe I should just get out of here and give it up.
There was no turning back now. Something, a force he could barely understand, compelled him to press on, think logically, keep his head clear.
Some sort of security alert was definitely afoot, for he also saw a contingent of troops surrounding the structure, with no way in but straight ahead.
Ray had wanted to stay put for a while, but the racket from that creature had grown more intense; the sound of its passage almost rang in his ears.
He could turn back, perhaps, maybe wend his way back to the gate, open it and…
The doors to the hangar opened and Ray saw more soldiers, perhaps a dozen or so, coming through. Within seconds, they began to disperse, walking toward the barracks he observed to his left.
There were scattered bushes about and long spaces of emptiness between the shrubs. Ray wanted to get as close to the hangar as possible before attempting the final lunge toward its entrance. He stayed hidden, hoping by now that the slithering creature had grown weary of the pursuit and was seeking another victim.
The insidious rattling noise just grew louder, urgent, threatening, deadly…
Only a few troops were left now. Soon they’d be gone.
If only there was time.
Ray thought he could see the beady eyes of that awful reptile a dozen yards from him. He moved slowly, in a gentle rhythm, trying not to attract att
ention, not to show fear.
He couldn’t delay any longer. Even if he managed to elude the security detail, he wouldn’t fare as well with the snake.
The doors to the hangar slid together with a slow, erratic rumble. Ray could hear the large machines, the incessant grating of gears and rollers that filled his ears. For some reason, the doors didn’t fully close.
What an incredible stroke of luck!
The gap between the doors remained, maybe a foot or two…just enough room for a grown man to sneak inside.
No, it wasn’t a stroke of luck at all. Thank you, Manny, thank you. There was no time to think, just act!
Ray boldly ran straight to the hangar, not looking back for signs of pursuit. Without thinking, he squeezed between the cracks. There was just enough room for him to enter. As he went inside, the door slid shut with a loud thud, as if it had been waiting for his arrival.
As soon as he was inside, fear gripped his throat. He looked around, slowly moving his head, listening for subtle sounds that betrayed the presence of other human beings. Nobody was there.
He looked up, searching for the presence of a TV camera or some other security probe; it was too dark to see anything.
Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round halogen flashlight. It wouldn’t light! He shook the instrument and heard the telltale sound of a loose filament. Why did the bulb have to fail at this crucial moment?
Ray looked at a nearby shelf, squinted and noticed a small flashlight lying there, just waiting for him.
He picked it up with his left hand, turning it on as he shielded its beam with his right. He cautiously pointed it about, examining the surroundings carefully, while trying to keep the beam from betraying his presence. He pointed it toward the ceiling, and confirmed no security cameras were present in this facility, at least none that were visible.
There was no indication of any top-secret technology here. It was just an ordinary hangar, with a few jet planes in various states of repair.
Why should he be surprised? Most of those rumors about military secrets turned out to be false. For one frightening moment, Ray began to feel he got into the base too quickly, considering the security measures he’d expected. Could Manny’s ten grand really buy his way in here so easily?
Had he been betrayed?
Realizing the need to make haste, Ray reached into his back pocket, grateful the tattered map was still there. He pulled it out and stared at it, carefully shining the flashlight over the contents, trying to pick out the small details Gonzales had dutifully entered.
A small elevator had been circled in thick black ink. He looked around, but didn’t see it right away. The walls were dark, and he observed caution shining his flashlight about.
He saw it, off toward the rear left of the hangar. A small sliding elevator door, plain as day.
Ray’s bruised body huddled close to the planes so he couldn’t be seen; he believed there were still surveillance measures active here, and he tried to make his motions as gentle as possible, hardly making sounds at all as his athletic shoes touched the concrete floor. Ray realized none of these precautions would help if they used motion detectors, but assuming Gonzales had kept his promise, the detectors had been disabled, for now.
He passed a plane parked near the elevator, and with a start, felt something touch his shoulder.
As the slippery substance wet his tattered shirt, he smiled as he realized how silly he had been to react with such fear. It was just a few drops of leaking fuel.
He turned his flashlight back on, as another few drops fell on his shoulder. He felt something almost slimy touch his mouth, and the jet fuel left a horrible taste, but he carelessly wiped off the liquid with his free hand, trying to keep his face and mind clear at the same time.
Ray took the last few yards that had to be traversed to reach the elevator. A small wall-mounted security panel sat at eye level at the door’s left. Just as Gonzales said, at first glance it looked nearly identical to the physical touch pad on a portable phone, except for a small enter key at the bottom. Ray stared at it in frustration.
Clearly it wasn’t his day. His expertise at safecracking was laughable. He remembered that incident inside some nameless sheik’s palace in the Middle East briefly, how he had fitted some sensitive earphones to his ear, turned a few knobs, and the alarm went off.
It was never quite the same in the field.
Ray had gotten out of there with a whole skin, but two days later there was the incident with the mysterious nerve gas, and he wasn’t so lucky that time. It was something he once again fervently wished he could forget.
Ray grabbed the map and looked at it again. He thought the security panel was supposed to be outside the hangar, not inside. Could Gonzales have made a mistake? And those silly numbers—7-1-4-7-0. Oh well…nothing ventured…
With scarcely a sideways glance, numbers were pressed slowly, deliberately. Ray pressed the little enter key …and he waited…and he waited.
Just when he thought nothing was going to happen—or perhaps he’d trigger the alarm—the door slid open so rapidly, Ray jumped.
The elevator seemed positively ancient, reminiscent of the ones he saw in one of those old tenements in New York City. The walls inside appeared to be finished in deeply scratched, dark, enamel paint. Illumination was provided by a single bulb in the ceiling, conveying a shadowy, oppressive light in the small cabin, with nothing but a conventional-looking numbered panel in front of him, to the right of the door.
Before he could press a button, it slid shut.
The elevator stayed there.
Ray had never been quite accustomed to small surroundings, due to some unknown childhood trauma, they told him. His breath became ragged, he began to sweat and feel nervous, frightened, and almost overwhelmed. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but it took a few moments for his mind to clear, his breath to regulate itself.
His choices were 1, 2 and B—for basement, he presumed.
Ray dutifully pressed the basement button. For a second, nothing happened; he heard a soft rumbling sound as the elevator went down ever so slowly. In about thirty seconds or so, it stopped rather abruptly, and rocked back and forth a little raggedly.
For one panic-stricken moment, Ray felt that perhaps the elevator’s cable was frayed and splitting apart. Why is the damned elevator so small?
The door slid open so quickly, Ray almost shuddered. He took a deep breath, his ears listening intently, as he looked over his surroundings.
With perhaps a little too much eagerness, he walked out of the elevator and looked around, pointing his flashlight around the small room.
He gazed long and hard at the scene before him. Everything seemed conventional on the surface.
There were large shelves and electronic instruments. He saw tools, blueprints. He didn’t pretend to understand the purpose behind all the dials and displays, but nothing looked out of place or terribly different from a conventional electronic repair station. In the far left corner was the entrance to a bathroom and a water heater.
Ray felt both confused and irritated. Damn! This is just a wild-goose chase.
He looked at the map to make sure he had followed Gonzales’ directions exactly. He slapped his head with his left hand.
I’m so stupid!
A little scrawl next to the picture of the elevator read, “Press the basement button, count five seconds, press it again.”
Ray couldn’t believe for a moment that pressing the button twice would do anything. Having come this far, he figured there was nothing wrong in giving it a whirl.
Again, he sensed the presence of that alien woman, looking over his shoulder, beckoning him to continue his quest.
Ray counted out loud after pressing B the first time.
“One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand, five-one-thousand.”
He obediently pressed the B button again.
For just a second, nothing happ
ened.
Motors started churning and the elevator vibrated. The door slid shut. Clunk! More motors churned. Another pause, and Ray thought, at first, the elevator might be broken or that nothing was going to happen.
The elevator moved all right…but its motion was neither up nor down but sideways.
The rapid movement came suddenly, as Ray nearly fell to the floor; he almost lost his balance.
His head jerked back with a start, fear plain as day in his eyes. Ray resisted the urge to push the “alarm” bell for help. That would be foolish. There was no rescue for him here, only guards and handcuffs and certain incarceration.
He had to remain calm, expect the unexpected. The whir of the machinery again grew louder as the elevator’s pace increased, rocking back and forth, seeming barely under control. Ray held his balance by sheer force of will.
The elevator stopped, paused, and started going straight down again.
Unfortunately, the single light bulb burned out at that moment.
He looked around; sheer blackness filled his eyes. He scrambled through his pockets for his flashlight, but he realized he must have left it back in the basement repair shop.
The elevator stopped suddenly, roughly, with Ray nearly thrown to the floor. The door abruptly opened, leading out into a long, dark tunnel.
He wondered what would go wrong next.
Ray hoped this miserable ride was over, that he was at the bottom level of Area 51, the infamous Level S4. He concentrated for a moment and meditated upon his situation.
Ray had another problem to contend with in the meantime—whenever he stood up to his full height, his head bumped into the ceiling, so he had to crouch uncomfortably. His back began to ache as he stumbled on. His muscles hurt, already battered and bruised from his fall among the cacti outside. He continued to crouch, struggling to keep a steady pace.
In a few minutes, the tunnel became brighter, and he saw an occasional recessed fluorescent light in the ceiling. At the same time, the tunnel became wider and taller, until he was finally able to stand erect comfortably. He stretched his arms, and did a few of the neck exercises his martial arts guru had drilled into him. He almost seemed to will his aches and pains to subside.
Attack of the Rockoids Page 4