by Shane Crosby
“If they knew anything we’d be dead already.”
“Oh, thanks for that Hallmark Greeting.”
“You know what we mean. We haven’t encountered any problems.”
“Yet, you mean.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“It’s just a couple of days.”
“That’s all they need.”
“The fact that they haven’t lodged another attack on us is disturbing. You know what that means.”
“They’re regrouping, just lying in wait for the right time.”
“And, that’s when we poke our heads out, just like we’re doing now.”
“Exactly! Now, don’t tell me you two don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do, but Dub this is important.”
“Why is it so important, Trevor? Why is this important enough for us to continue to risk our lives?”
“When I was working homicide, a woman came in upset about her daughter. She hadn’t heard from her in a few days. She was frantic about it. She begged me to help her find her. I didn’t have the time. Her daughter turned tricks on the Westside. She’d been arrested a million times. A woman shot her because she gave her husband an STD. She was a trashcan. I wasn’t interested and passed her along to someone else. The mother came back every week until she didn’t. One day, I realized she hadn’t been in, which was astonishing. She’d worried every officer in the house about her junkie daughter, I thought. I tried to look up the case and was blocked. The case I called you about Don.”
“I remember.”
“When we got the Attorney General’s files, hers was among them. I don’t know if the mother was ever successful in getting anyone to file that missing person’s report because I never got access to the file. Morris was murdered before he could hack it. When I saw the file, and now with all we’ve come across, I wonder, how did she get reported missing? I Before I left the force, I went by the mother’s house. She wasn’t home and I never saw that lady again.”
“She’s a part of this mess. Whatever the hell this is.”
“Damn! You couldn’t tell us that back at the bunker?”
“No because you would’ve felt like it was me trying to get redemption or something.”
“Well, isn’t it?”
“No, Dub! I want to know what’s happening around here. Yes, I feel guilty as hell, but I’m not sure I could’ve done anything to stop it.”
“From what we’ve found, maybe not.”
“What have you found?”
“A bunch of questions, just enough to scare the hell out of you, though.”
“Dub, we’re here now.”
“Yeah, might as well go on with whatever they have planned.”
“Right, you guys relax, please.”
“Relax? this is bs.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Famous last damn words.”
THE NEXT DAY
BORDER PATROL
CALIFORNIA BORDER
Mase, Dub and Scott
Scott Ripley
Approaching the border patrol was scarier than walking across the road searching for IEDs in Iraq. They were ready to disarm us with a bullet to the brain, if we acted suspicious in any way. We quickly held up the peace sign to let them know we were friendly. I showed them my dog tags and that diffused a potentially life threatening situation. Those little pieces of tin I wear around my neck have saved my butt more times than I can count; now I can add another one to the growing list.
“Hello.”
We all shook hands and introduced ourselves and they did the same.
“How’s everything on the border?”
“It’s quiet.”
“The border is quiet? I said with a little chuckle.
“Well, right now at this moment it is.”
“What can we do for you?”
“We were wondering how your numbers were looking regarding illegal captures.”
“Meaning?”
“Have they increased, decreased, lots of escapes?”
“The number of people that we apprehend each year has remained about the same.”
“Once we put them in the detention center, we don’t have any escapes.”
“We’ve been given orders to shoot to kill.”
“Shoot to kill if someone’s running away?”
“Those were the new orders.”
“Seems harsh.”
“I thought so too, but it’s hard to choose someone breaking the law over your career and family, you know?”
“I can certainly see your point but still, man, how can you carry that out?”
“It becomes easier every time you do it.”
“So, it’s safe to assume the detention centers here aren’t as full?”
“They are, but we’ve seen a slight drop in the numbers not by much though.”
While we were standing there another officer was behind the others giving us a signal to leave. We took him up on it and cut the visit short.
“We won’t waste any more of your time, fellas, thanks for your help.”
The officer giving us the signal to leave, walked up to us, smiled and shook our hand.
“Hope to see you again soon.”
“Likewise.”
When we walked back to the truck, I had a piece of paper in my hand telling us to call him at the number given.
“What did he give you?”
“A number to call.”
“Odd.”
“He knows or needs something.”
“I would wager a bet it’s both.”
THE UNEXPLAINABLE
LOS ANGELES
Don and Trevor
Before we left Wisconsin, we visited some alternative schools in the area. After doing some investigating there, we drove back to Indiana and then flew to Los Angeles. The good thing about L.A. was that it had enough crazy ass people to need plenty of alternative methods to educate them. We split up and hit as many as possible. After we completed our individual lists, we met at the last school to complete our investigation.
ASRC – (Alternative School for at Risk Youths)
“Good afternoon, we spoke on the phone earlier today. I’m Don Cole and this is Detective Alvarez.”
“Yes, please come in.”
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. “
“Sure, no problem.”
“Could I ask you a few questions regarding your enrollment. “
“What about it?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
“Has there been any changes lately?”
“Changes how?”
“Any noted changes with the students, staff anything out of the ordinary.”
“One thing that pops out at me is our enrollment.”
“What about it?”
“It’s dropped over the past year or so.”
“Dropped in large amounts or just a trickle?”
“We started losing a few each month and then it started to really get noticeable. There were chunks of students missing from our enrollment. The government funds us, if we don’t have any students, there’s no need for us and we’ll be closed. Notice how quiet it is?”
“Yes, I was going to commend you on that. I was expecting something of a zoo.”
“You would’ve been correct a year ago. Certainly, two years ago, I would be walking in the hallways with a pistol cocked and loaded. Now our halls are so quiet it scares me.”
“Their parents just decide to pull them out of school?”
“Unlikely, very unlikely, I’d say. Now, it does happen, people relocate, the child improves and goes to a regular school, but not where it really affects enrollment.”
“Have you tried to reach out to the parents?”
“Yes, but I was unsuccessful. Now before you get alarmed, you have to remember the type of people we’re dealing with. They are very transient. I’ll admit; however, it is alarming that none of the parents were reachable.�
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“I’ll ask, what probably is a crazy question; did you go by their houses?”
“Yes, that is crazy. Normally, the automatic answer would be absolutely no. Today is different. I visited one of my student’s residences and the only person home was his grandmother. She hadn’t seen the family in months.”
“May I ask why you went by to this particular kid’s home?”
“He’s a good kid. Parents are crazy as hell, but he’s a great student and with a little direction he could really become something great.”
“Is the student here?”
“Not any longer. I assumed he left with the family.”
“As a police officer, I know how it can be to lose one that’s promising.”
“It’s heart breaking.”
“Did you report them missing?”
“I didn’t. And, now that you’re here, I need to discuss something with you both. I’ve had several teachers report our drops in enrollment to the authorities. They felt strongly that something was wrong here.”
I knew what was coming before he finished his statement. Don asked anyway.
“May we speak with those teachers, please?”
“That’s the issue, we haven’t seen them.”
“How long have they been gone?”
“Six months for one, a year or more for the other two. Before you ask, I called them and went by their homes. My Vice Principal reported their sudden disappearance to the police several times.”
I swallowed hard before I asked.
“Is she here?”
“No. Haven’t seen her in almost a year. What the hell is going, detective? I assume that’s why you’re here.”
“We’re trying to get to the bottom of it.”
“Should I go to the police?”
“No! Don’t go to the police. We’re going to handle it.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Well, Mr. Hernandez, I won’t take up any more of your time.”
“No bother at all. Thank you for stopping by, Detective, Mr. Cole. I’ll see you out.”
“Thank you.”
On the way to the car...
“Trevor, your theory is blown completely. You have any more algorithms you care to run through?”
“Can’t come up with a one. My theory was blown three states ago.”
“I’m completely confused.”
“I’m not confused any longer big brother.”
“Scared?”
“Hell yes.”
CARLISLE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY
LANGSTON, AZ
Mase, Dub, Scott, Don and Trevor
When we arrived at the prison gates, guards escorted us up to the warden’s office. He looked like the typical guy who’d hold this position. White male, early to late fifties, ten year old brown suit, practical black shoes, balding and his last day in the gym was 1980. He wore black framed glasses, equipped with a southwestern borderline southern accent. Every other word was boys or son. If Dub was a dog, his hair would be standing up on his back and he’d be showing his teeth every time he said those words. He got up to greet us and we extended our hand in return. My brother Don began the conversation.
“Please sit down gentleman. I’m warden Pickens. How are you boys doing today?”
“Thank you. We’re doing well. I’m Lieutenant Cole United States Air Force Special Investigations Unit, thank you for meeting with us today.”
“No problem. How can I assist you?”
“I’m here on behalf of the US military. We have a soldier who has murdered his family including his infant son and he’s scheduled to be transported to a civilian prison. He’s from Phoenix and he wanted to be close to his family. I’m here to check out your facility’s security protocol, system and procedures when there’s an escape, has there been any escapes, etc.”
“Oh well sure. Glad to help you boys out. Where would you like to start?”
“What is the makeup of your prison population? Do you have a lot of repeat offenders?” How many escapes have you had in the past five years?”
He sits up in his chair and says, “Heh, well now, you military boys just jump right to it, don’t you, son?”
“Uncle Sam is not accustomed to waiting, sir.”
“I see. We’ve had a few escape attempts, sure. I’m sure you’ll find that’s a common occurrence in the prison system and facilities nationwide.”
“Um hmm, go on.”
“We have a pretty sophisticated security system.”
“If that’s true, why so many escapes?”
“It hasn’t been that many. Prisoners, all they have is time. They watch us, the guards everything. They have the time to learn how to get by any security feature you’ve implemented. Something else you’ll hear often from facilities around the country. The facility might be different, but convicts are the same everywhere.”
“Are you overcrowded here?”
“We had the same problems of overcrowding as other facilities.”
“You said had. Did something happen to change this?”
“Recently, our population has started to decrease.”
“Could you explain further? When did it begin? Is it the entire population or just specific parts of it?”
“What’s strange is the men who have committed particularly grisly offenses, murders, rapes, molestations have been missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?”
“That’s it. You haven’t been watching the news, son? You’d probably find out more from the police. I can tell you about our numbers, but the police can give you even more startling statistics. Here, the prisoners in those categories have just disappeared, some right out of their cells. It’s been going on for the past several years. The past year or so it’s been occurring more often. We’ve had officers state they book a man suspected of rape and they never make it to prison because they are removed somehow from their cells, never to be seen again. The death row inmates, we’ve had some die in their cells. We have no ideas why or what happened. They’ve been brushing their teeth, eat breakfast and later we find them dead. One prisoner’s cell was electrified. He touched the bars and was electrocuted. I need to caution you, this isn’t just for death row inmates. It’s been happening all over my prison. Didn’t you notice something when you walked in? Tell me your impression when you entered those doors. Take your time.”
I sat there for a few moments. In my mind, I went back through those doors and later through those gates to enter into the prison. Dub answered before I could.
“It’s quiet. Eerily quiet.”
“Bingo.”
“A prison of this size should be and usually is noisy. So noisy the convicts would complain about it.”
“You’re right. It was quiet.”
“Something is definitely going on out there and it’s affecting us in here. It’s the darndest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Do I need to answer your question regarding repeat offenders?”
“I guess not.”
“I believe I already have, son.”
“Sir, I believe you have, yes.”
“If his family ever wants to see him again, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to bring your soldier to these parts.”
“No sir, I don’t guess it would be.”
“Can I help you boys with anything else?”
“No sir. We’d like to say thank you for your time.”
“No problem. I hope you military boys can make some sense out of this thing, son.”
“Hope so to, sir.”
“See these boys out. You boys Come back any time.”
He got up and we shook hands before we left his office.
We visited a few more prison centers in the area, male and female. The results were the same. The populations of the centers were going down. The number of inmates arrested and jailed for more serious crimes of murder, rape and molestation, etc. had reduced significantly. The recidivism rate had decreased as well. They attributed the new and impro
ved numbers to the new President and his policies, more jobs, free education, better housing and many other benefits, I didn’t care to remember. The fellas and I weren’t convinced. Sure, he’d done a lot to improve the conditions of the United States but he’s not Whoodini or God. There’s no way one man and his policies could make an improvement like this. People have to want to improve. I don’t see that happening here.
We feel like we’ve been around the United States in a day. We’ve talked to everyone within any facility that we thought could shed some light on this situation. We’ve struck out every time.
We drove back to our hotel and called the Border Patrol officer who slipped us the note. He wanted us to meet him at an abandoned warehouse. We agreed. But not without being on edge about this meeting. True to our training, we showed up several hours early to do some scouting.
AFTER HOURS
LOCATION OF THE MEETING
Scott, Mase, Dub
For the border patrol agent to take a chance on making contact with us, we knew he’d have some great information for us. Anything we can obtain regarding the strange occurrences going on not just in the United States, but around the world, we believe will help us solve and put an end to it. Since we’re all military, special OPS or something that involves some sort of covert training, we arrived early to do some scouting.
We’ve been shot at and blown up on too many occasions to take a chance on not preparing ourselves for a battle.
“This is a good place to do recon, nice tall structures to get on top of, buildings to hide behind and abandoned vehicles to shield you while you return fire. I feel right at home here.”
“I wish we had it like this on some of the missions the government sent me on.”
“You mean murder missions?”
“Shut up! No. They’re clean up missions. Cleaning up the world of the trash that could come together and blow up buildings killing thousands of people.”
“Good one. He has a point.”
“Hey, just admit it. You’re a hired assassin for the US Government.”
“It takes one to know one little brother.”
“Heh heh, heh, I guess it does.”
In a hushed voice. “Hey, someone’s coming.”