Sleeper Seven

by Mark Howard

  "Au Revoir, ma chérie," Len called to the craft, ushering them both outside and sliding the hangar door closed behind them.

  ~ 31 ~

  That afternoon and evening they went over the plan. The subject was being held in the largest hotel — indeed, the largest building — on the entire Korean peninsula. They didn't know which floor he was on; it was her job to figure that out using her abilities. Physically, she would remain in the craft at all times. When his location was discovered, she would make contact, in whatever manner necessary, and lead him to the craft for the return flight home. The plan was to get her there at 4:00 AM local time, which would give her an hour of darkness for the extraction before the sun began to rise.

  After a final prep the next morning, she boarded the craft with nothing but her phone, a bottle of water, and a few granola bars. Kal provided her with some critical last minute instructions.

  "Now, the only facilities on board is gonna be that water bottle when it's empty, so you wanna make sure you're empty before you head out, alright?"

  Jess laughed. "Taken care of. Ready to go."

  "OK then, good luck to you," she said, suddenly looking very serious. "Bring him back for us. It's more important than you know." She and Len both shook her hand, and then stood back from the craft.

  "OK Mustang Three, close please," she requested with a slight crack in her voice; Kal's seriousness had thrown her.

  The top halves of the craft swung over her head and locked into place, joining to form one seamless surface. Instead of darkening, however, it was still brightly lit inside. Feeling momentarily disoriented and claustrophobic, Jess was relieved when the triangular windscreen panels in front of her turned transparent, followed by the footwells, and then the sides. She had a crystal clear view up, down, and around.

  The craft, via her phone, began speaking to her in the familiar Siri voice.

  "Ready for departure to programmed destination. Distance five thousand nine hundred ninety-six miles. Acceleration slope adjusted for current occupant body mass index of twenty-two point two. Maximum speed will be one thousand three hundred and eighty-four miles per hour, attained one hundred and eighty-two seconds after departure. Estimated travel time is four hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds. Originating location time is currently six-thirty-seven A.M. Pacific standard time. Destination location time is currently eleven-thirty-seven P.M. Korean standard time. Destination arrival time will be four A.M. Korean standard time. Shall we go?"

  One thousand three hundred miles per hour? Jess marveled to herself. She couldn't remember how fast commercial jets flew, but she knew it was less than the speed of sound, which was around seven hundred miles per hour. I'm going to be zipping along at Mach II in this thing that's no bigger than a Cooper Mini? she thought nervously. They told her how long the trip would take, but she didn't think to calculate how fast she would be traveling. OK, Jess, let's put on the big girl pants, she thought, calming herself. What she was doing was important: she was willing to believe that.

  "Yes, let's go."

  The craft began a round of chirping again, settling into the high-pitched hum, which sounded louder from the inside. Though Jess couldn't feel any movement, she watched the floor of the hangar recede slowly as the craft lifted away from the sawhorses. Leaning back, she found the seats to be more comfortable than any other seats she had been in; in fact they were so cozy as to be a little disturbing. It felt like she was being hugged by the thing, as if it were alive.

  The craft rotated until it faced the open hangar door, then paused a moment before swiftly gliding forward. She had time for a quick wave to Kal and Len as they sped by on each side. They were saluting me, she realized, and suddenly choked up, had no time to turn and salute back before they were gone, and she was outside, rising. The acceleration increased smoothly, like a roller coaster, pushing her back into her seat. Lifting itself over the foothills of the approaching mountain range in a jagged stair-step fashion, the craft seemed to be automatically following the contour of the ground one hundred feet below.

  She watched the rocks, scrub, and mesquite trees stretch into a blur of reds, browns, and greens as they sped past beneath her. Above the hum, a high-pitched whine emanated from the front of the craft. Increasing in volume, it reached an ear-splitting crescendo before exploding into a series of thunderous pops, as if she were inside a popcorn machine. The noise subsided as the craft surged forward violently with additional speed, while a cloud-like mist formed ahead of her, blocking a portion of her forward vision.

  "Sound barrier crossed. Slipstream envelope active and stable."

  The craft continued onward, traveling up, over, and then down the far side of the mountain range in a span of minutes, while maintaining a consistent, yet disturbingly low, elevation.

  "Maximum speed achieved," the craft announced as the acceleration abated. As the hum of the engines receded, Jess began to relax and take in the view. Staring out the side window at the desert landscape, she began to space out. A sudden jolt jerked her attention back to the craft; it had suddenly rocked to one side and then back again, as though hitting a pothole in the sky.

  "What the hell was that?" she yelled out, tightly clutching the arms of her chair.

  "Avian avoidance maneuver," the craft nonchalantly answered.

  Though still unsettled, Jess was somewhat reassured, if not by the actual explanation, then at least by the craft's self-confidence, and so she leaned back again. Below, the ground rushed by unnaturally, like an old silent movie, making her dizzy. Looking ahead, she spied a blue line on the horizon which began to expand towards her, until a flash of yellow beneath her feet signalled the demarcation between land and sea. Her forward view, now, consisted of only differing shades of blue: lighter above, and darker below.

  As the sun was behind her, Jess leaned forward and searched for a moment before finding the small dark shadow of the craft on the water below. Getting dizzy again, she focused on the horizon, and watched as a wall of what looked like lego blocks rose from the sea, until below them emerged the massive red bow of a container ship. As she was trying to read the name painted on the hull, the craft banked hard to the left, pushing her into the side of her seat. Already knowing the answer, she felt the need to ask anyway.

  "What was that?"

  "Merchant marine vessel avoidance maneuver," the craft responded, again with the same confidence, but also with a hint of seeming annoyance at her paranoid questioning. Closing her eyes, she settled back and asked no further questions about the sudden bumps, potholes and violent banking they encountered, for fear the craft would lose any remaining respect for her.

  She awoke thirty minutes later, and while searching again for their shadow on the water, unsuccessfully this time, she found the sky had taken on a distinctly orange-ish hue. Confused, it took her a moment to realize the craft, with its tremendous speed, had been outrunning the sunrise, and would soon reverse the daybreak entirely, returning the sun below the eastern horizon behind her. Am I going back in time? she wondered groggily, but of course that didn't make any sense, though it certainly did feel as though the previous night was indeed returning.

  An hour later, in darkness, her confusion was put to rest as the craft interrupted her contemplative star gazing.

  "Crossing International Date Line."

  Of course, she mused to herself, as she recalled from the mission briefing the fact that Pyongyang was fifteen hours ahead of them. She had not slipped back into the previous night, but was instead propelled forward into the early morning hours of the next day.

  "What are we over right now?" she queried the craft, her curiosity drifting from above to below.

  "We are currently thirty meters above the Bering Sea," the craft replied. How cute that she uses the royal 'We', Jess reflected, until she digested the rest of the statement: she thought they had been traveling West the whole time, yet here they were above the waters off Alaska.

  "Where are we going!" she exclaime
d with alarm. She didn't care what the craft thought of her at this point — she could be an abductee of this sentient iPhone-powered craft for all she knew.

  "Pyongyang, North Korea. Time to destination one-hour and fifty-three minutes," the craft replied calmly, without a hint of annoyance this time. Jess relaxed again, and made a mental note to check a globe later to see what kind of circuitous route they were taking. In the meantime, she gazed out across the dark sea, thinking of the fishermen below who plied these waters.

  Looking up, the blanket of stars stoked thoughts of the seafarers who once used the sky to navigate this endless expanse. Speeding through a seemingly endless darkness can't help but make one a little philosophical, she cogitated.

  ~ 32 ~

  Placing her focus back on the mission, and not the least bit tired from her time travel forward into the following night, Jess passed the remaining time in the darkness going over the plan. The destination, she recalled, was a tall triangular building which she would 'park' the craft next to — halfway up the side — while she exited her body and investigated the floors one by one. Once she found the room containing the subject, she would maneuver the craft as close as possible to his window, then alert him to her presence. He would board the craft with her, and off they would go. Easy-peasy; at least that was the idea.

  While going over possible contingencies, she noticed scattered lights zipping by below; she was over land again.

  "Where are we now?" she inquired.

  "Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, Russian Federation."

  She felt like a real spy now, flying low over Russian airspace in the dead of night. A few minutes later and she was back over water, the 'Sea of Okhotsk', her craft informed her.

  Jess continued to mull over the plan: all the permutations, the probabilities, and how she would handle each contingency. While she was deciding whether she might be over-thinking it, the craft conveniently interrupted her with the news they were only fifteen minutes from their destination. Not even realizing they were over land again, she looked down to find a smattering of faint lights speeding by below.

  After a few minutes, she noticed a cluster of lights ahead — a city — and what looked like a large Christmas tree in the midst of it. The craft began to decelerate, pulling her body forward as the cloudiness around the nose dissipated. On the approach to the city, she realized how massive the building was — it utterly dominated the skyline, and though the other structures around it stood twenty or thirty stories, this one must have been a hundred at least. Other than this giant, there weren't many other lights on in this, the largest city in North Korea, and though four A.M. local time, it still appeared more like a sleepy American suburb than a vast urban metropolis.

  Closing in, the craft remained scarily low, a few tens of feet above the concrete, as it violently weaved its way between the buildings instead of rising over them. Her adrenaline flowing, she clutched the armrests tightly, even though she knew intellectually that she could trust this craft to get her the final few miles on this six-thousand mile journey.

  Tall apartment buildings flew past, devoid of any lights, the roads below similarly empty. It felt dead here; almost post-apocalyptic. After banking around one large apartment complex, she found herself on a direct approach to the target. Composed of three massive wings that rose from the ground and converged to a single sharp point, the building looked to Jess like a gigantic dagger stabbing upwards towards the sky.

  The craft decelerated further as it climbed towards the mid-point of the structure, just as planned. Pushing her hands flat against the forward viewing panels, Jess gritted her teeth as the craft silently glided to a dead stop inches from the mirrored glass that covered the building.

  Although the large decorative lights running up each wing of the building were lit, there were no individual lights on in any of the rooms — like many of the other buildings in the city. Looking straight ahead, Jess noticed a faint glow emanating from the hotel window a few feet in front of her. It took her a moment to realize it was only the reflection of her own phone's screen, which she quickly pocketed.

  "OK, here we go," she announced to the empty cabin. That was a pretty lame pep talk, she thought to herself, as she lay back and closed her eyes. Dropping out, she slipped below the craft. The height was dizzying, and forgetting herself momentarily, she instinctively clawed her way towards the wall of the building, until she regained her composure and drifted steadily down to ground level.

  Entering the main doors to the building, Jess found the lobby could only be described as garishly depressing: a long white marble front desk to the left, attended by a dozing female clerk, opposite a plaid-upholstered lounge area to the right. Straight ahead stood the centerpiece of the lobby, a tremendous cylindrical waterfall. Descending from three stories above, the murky water streamed past long strands of green algae tenaciously clinging to the faux rock face, before collecting in a bubbly yellowish froth at the bottom. The water feature, adorned with colorfully large flora and fauna, was surrounded by a bright green carpet of grass. Everything, except for the water itself, was made of plastic. Even in her subtle body, Jess could somehow smell the decay permeating the place.

  Noting nothing else of interest, she ascended to the fourth floor to find herself in a circular hall, with corridors that branched off into each of the three wings. Choosing one at random, she proceeded down it, poking her head through the doors into each individual room. All of them were empty — no furnishings, fixtures, or even carpeting; nothing but cold empty spaces defined by the concrete walls, floors, and ceilings — more akin to jail cells than luxury hotel rooms. She had inspected almost twenty of these rooms when she realized the futility of her search, considering the hundreds of rooms that remained. She was on a race against the sunrise, after all, that she had already escaped once just a few short hours ago.

  Gathering her energy into a pinpoint of light, she zipped through the walls from one room to the next, finishing the entire floor in under a minute. Moving up a floor, she found herself outside due to the incline of the hotel. This gave her an idea, and she began traveling in a wide arc around — and through — the arms of the hotel. Once the outermost rooms were cleared, she tightened her radius until she arrived back at the central core. Then she went up a level and repeated the spiraling maneuver outwards, a pattern of inside-outside-inside as empty rooms and open air flew past her at intervals. It was thrilling, and more important, fast and effortless.

  Only when she reached a third of the way up the building did she see any sign of finish work, and even then it was randomly distributed in certain rooms instead of across the entire floor. She passed her craft, still hovering patiently outside the fiftieth floor, forgetting entirely that her body lay within it. Finally, at the seventieth floor, she found entire floors that had been almost completely finished, yet all were still unoccupied. A few floors later she at last came upon a smattering of rooms containing actual sleeping guests, and though they were all male, none matched the description of the man she was looking for.

  Only at the highest floors were the rooms fully finished and occupied, and at this point she was spiraling in a tight circle only a few hundred feet across. One room caught her attention only because its lone resident was asleep on the floor. She backed up to investigate further and discovered a bloody gash on the man's head. He was breathing, but possibly unconscious instead of asleep. Most importantly, he was a good seven feet tall, which was a key feature of her target.

  Approaching him, she expanded into her subtle body, and leaning down, moved her fist quickly through the floor next to his head. The soft thuds produced didn't even stir him, but after making several louder raps she noticed one eyelid flutter briefly.

  Suddenly, the door to the room flew open and a man dressed in crisp military garb, bayonet rifle slung across his back, entered and charged towards them. She flew backwards, trying ineffectively to hide herself, but he completely ignored her presence. Speaking angrily in Korean, he foun
d no response from the man on the floor, and for a moment he stood silently, eyeing his captive with suspicion. Stepping forward, he kicked the man in the stomach, and after receiving nothing but a grunt in return, stormed out and slammed the door.

  Jess chastised herself for not clearing the area before trying to wake him, and proceeding down a few rooms, peeked into the center hallway from a safe distance. The same guard, along with another, were stationed on each side of her target's door, standing at full attention — even though it was half-past three in the morning. Crap, she thought to herself. They had simulated this scenario in Nevada, but assumed the guards would be asleep, or at the very least seated and drowsy.

  She moved further down the curving hallway, bringing her out of sight of the guards. On this side of the building, she found a few remaining unfinished rooms. Two didn't even have windows in place yet, just sheets of heavy plastic covering roughed-in holes in the concrete, which alternately stretched taut and rippled from the wind outside.

  Focusing her energy, Jess sped down at an angle towards her waiting craft. After bringing herself back into her physical body, she instructed the craft where to go.

  "Rise to just below the top of the building then corner around...um, actually, is there a manual control mode?"

  "Manual controls active," the craft replied. Grabbing her phone, she watched the map view slide down to reveal a plain gray screen.

  "What the hell?" she despaired, thinking the app had crashed on her. She poked at the gray screen three times, each tap resulting in a pronounced jiggle of the craft. Freezing her hand in mid-air, she lowered it and gently touched the screen. Sliding her finger slowly forward, the craft accelerated forward. Sliding back brought it to a halt. Twisting two fingers turned the craft in place, and two finger slides moved the craft vertically as well as horizontally. Nice, she thought, getting the hang of it.