A.L.I.V.E. (The A.L.I.V.E.Series Book 1)

by R. D. Brady

  She shrugged. “Just making sure. Good job.”

  Greg blew on the end of the hose like gunslingers in old Westerns. “Wasn’t nothing, ma’am.”

  Leslie smiled. “I don’t know. I’d say it was something.”

  The door at the end of the hall rattled. The smiled dropped from Leslie’s face. “Let’s go. And bring the extinguisher.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The three little beings were crouched low in the back of the enclosure, huddled tightly together. Each of their heads was disproportionately large for their small bodies—their necks looked too thin to hold it up. But Maeve knew if they were like Alvie, their bones were strong and they were also light. Each of them had four fingers on each of their hands and their skin was a light gray color. They even wore the same blue scrubs that Alvie wore, albeit much smaller versions.

  One peeked its head out, large black eyes staring at Maeve with fear, before ducking back down. The eyes dominated the face, proportionally larger than Alvie’s, the same way all babies and young children developed. Scientists believed that large eye size was a means of upping the cute factor, making humans and other beings more responsive to babies.

  “Oh my god. They’re babies.” Maeve moved toward the door. Chris intercepted her before she could try to open it.

  She looked up at him. “What are you doing? We have to get them out of there.”

  “We don’t even know what they are.”

  “They look just like him. They’re the same as Alvie.”

  “That means nothing. This is a whole new world, Maeve. They’re mixing everything down here. We need to know what they are made of before we open that door.”

  Maeve took a breath, realizing he was right. “Okay.”

  With one last look at the three little figures, she headed for the console, knowing that was where the answers would be. But her mind was whirling at the existence of more beings like Alvie. She stared at the console for a moment before shaking herself from her thoughts and clicking on the mouse. A prompt popped up, requesting she slide her ID card through the reader. She slid her ID through but she was denied access. The console was ID specific. She looked back at Chris. “It won’t accept my ID.”

  Chris walked over to a body in the corner of the room. Maeve blanched. She hadn’t even noticed it. Chris pulled the card away from the man’s neck, wiping the blood on the card on the man’s shirt. He walked over and handed it to her. “Here.”

  She bit her lip and took it gingerly before running it through the reader at the bottom of the screen. The card prompt disappeared, replaced by another box. “It needs a password.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Um.” She flipped the card over to read it. “Ignacio Alvarez.”

  “Try Alvarez11AI1.”

  Maeve typed it in. The password box disappeared and the desktop screen appeared.

  Maeve looked at Chris in disbelief. “How’d you know that?”

  “You were all assigned temporary passwords that combined the room and your name—which you were supposed to change. But most of you scientists are so scatterbrained, I figured you guys haven’t changed them.”

  “That’s a gross assumption.”

  “Have you changed yours?”

  “Not the point.” Maeve turned back to the computer and pulled up the file for the projects. She scanned the file names before zeroing in on one that looked hopeful—Project Progeny. She pulled it open.

  “They were created a year and a half ago. But they were born seven months ago.” With a jolt, she realized that was exactly when Alvie had started having his disturbances.

  And when I started having the dreams.

  She paused, her mind racing. Had Alvie somehow known they were born? Was their birth somehow connected to his episodes? Was it possible? If he’d known that, was he linked to them?

  Is he linked to me through my stem cells?

  She quickly checked the files to see if anything had been done to one of them the day of the obstacle course. There—shock therapy. Her jaw dropped open.

  Oh my god. They’re linked. Somehow Alvie knew what they were going through.

  “Where’d they come from?” Chris asked.

  “Uh…” Maeve pulled herself from her thoughts, scanning through the files. “They were created through something called Project Progeny. They had a cow as a host prior to birth.”

  “They’re part cow?”

  Maeve shook her head, a smile ghosting across her face. “No. The cow—she was only the host. It doesn’t say who or what they were created from. Hold on.” She scanned to files again before her hand went still. Toward the bottom of the list was a file with her last name—the Leander Process. With a shaky hand she clicked on the icon. A PDF appeared. She read through it quickly, her disbelief growing.

  “Oh my god.”

  “What?” Chris asked.

  “My mom…” Maeve felt ill.

  “Your mom what?”

  “She created them.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Greg and Leslie had ended up heading down four more flights instead of going up. Each avenue they’d attempted to escape had led to more unfriendlies.

  And more bodies.

  Greg had counted thirty humans down and at least twelve different species of aliens. It was like being trapped in a zoo where all the animals had been set free—all the really terrifying man-eating animals.

  “You all right?” Leslie asked.

  Greg looked over her. Her shirt was torn. She had a cut on her bicep and she had fought off at least five aliens. And yet she looked just as fierce and determined as the first day he’d met her.

  He didn’t know if she came back to get him because it was her duty or because she wanted to make sure he was all right, but he knew he would not be alive if it weren’t for her. And right now, even with the massive crush he still had on her, which to be honest had only increased after watching her in battle, he felt more gratitude toward her than he could remember feeling for any human on the planet.

  He nodded. “I’m good. Thanks to you.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  Somehow I doubt that’s all it is. “Well, this poor schlub is more than grateful that you do your job so well.”

  “You’re not, you know.”

  “Not what?”

  “A poor schlub. You shouldn’t run yourself down so much.”

  Greg’s mouth dropped open and then he hastily shut it. “Uh, I don’t mean anything by it. I just…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’re a pretty good guy. And you’ve held up better than a lot of other people would under these circumstances. I’ve seen seasoned soldiers who haven’t held up as well as you. You should give yourself some credit.”

  Greg put a hand to his chest. “You know, you’re right. I’m awesome. The world rarely takes notice.”

  “And he’s back,” she muttered, but the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth took the sting out of her words. “So what do you think’s going on with all these things? What do they want?”

  Greg had been puzzling over the same issue. And he didn’t like where his mind was heading. “I’m not sure. But some of these deaths—they look like overkill. And these things have been following us at times. They’re not just going through the obstacles in their way.”

  Leslie stopped walking, turning to face Greg. “Wait, are you saying they’re tracking us down?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, in our world, humans were thought to be the only animals that committed murder. But now we know that’s not entirely true. Male lions will kill all the new male cubs in their pride. Ant colonies will go to war against one another. Even chimps have been known to kill.”

  “So are they just killing in self-defense or is there something more calculated at play?”

  “It could be either. Until we can sit down and observe what’s happening, we won’t know. I mean, we don’t even know if all these guys come from the same planet or
if they’re pure alien or some sort of hybrid.”

  “Hybrid? As in someone mixed alien DNA with something else? Why would someone do that?”

  Greg looked at Leslie and realized she didn’t know how Hank had been created. That he had been cooked up in a lab.

  “I’m guessing the animal couldn’t survive in Earth’s atmosphere,” he said. “Or there was some other weakness or even a missing patch of DNA. There’re all sorts of reasons. But regardless, I think it would be wrong to underestimate them. They’re not animals. I mean, Hank, as much as he looked like a walking crocodile, had some intelligence underneath there. And from what little I’ve seen of these others beings—which has been more than enough, by the way—there seems to be some intelligence at work. So I don’t know if they’re trying to kill us because we’re a threat or because they really just want us dead. Maybe it’s revenge for the way they’ve been treated.”

  He swallowed hard, remembering that Hank might be running around the building somewhere. And if they were motivated by revenge …

  “Well, that’s comforting,” Leslie muttered.

  Greg shrugged. “Or maybe they’re all looking for a way out and have a really lousy sense of direction. And we just happened to be in the way.”

  “Well, we haven’t seen any for a while.”

  Greg nodded. “And I will be perfectly happy if I never see another one.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to see another one.”

  A picture of Hank staring at him through the window in the containment unit floated through his mind. Greg adjusted his grip on his weapon, his hands slick.

  Please don’t let them be motivated by revenge.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chris spoke slowly. “Maeve, that’s not possible. You said they were created a year and a half ago. Your mom was in no shape to work on a project then. She couldn’t have created them.”

  “I know, but she created the process.” Maeve sat down in a chair, her eyes focused on the screen. The Leander Process—her mother’s procedure for cloning a living being.

  And for the first time, Maeve wondered who else had used her mother’s process. Her mother had created Alvie. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying. Had her mother also created all these other beasts? Even if she hadn’t been directly involved, her technique had made it possible. Maeve’s gaze flew to Alvie. How could she do this? How could she play God?

  “Is that even possible?” Chris asked.

  “What?” Maeve asked, not sure what Chris was referring to.

  “Your mom—is it even possible for her to have created them?”

  Maeve nodded. “Indirectly.” Her gaze strayed to the three little figures hunched over in terror. The figures that all looked just like Alvie. Shock tore through her.

  Oh god, no.

  She scanned the files, looking for the original donor, the DNA that had been used to create them. She found it and felt sick to her stomach.

  “How could they?” she mumbled.

  “How could they what?”

  She slumped into a chair, staring at nothing. “They’re Alvie.”

  Chris grabbed her shoulder. “Maeve? What do you mean they’re Alvie?”

  Her gaze flew to Chris’s face. “The three little ones—they’re not his kids or his cousins. They’re him. They’re clones too.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Martin stared at the screens that lined the wall in front of him with a smile on his face. He had learned so much in the short time he’d been watching the action at 51.

  I should have done this years ago.

  His phone beeped, interrupting his thoughts, and he frowned before answering it.

  “Hamish, I’m in the middle—”

  “Secretary Heig is two minutes out.”

  Martin sat up quickly, nearly knocking over his coffee. “What? She’s here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shit. Martin stood up quickly, exiting the room and pocketing his phone. Hamish stood right outside the door. “How the hell did she find us?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Martin growled. God damn it, when I find out who leaked this place, I’m going to roast them on a spit. “Send her to my office when she arrives.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Martin walked into his office, taking a seat behind his desk. He pulled over a file and flipped it open, pretending to read while he seethed. He had better things to do with his time than play politician. This was why he should be given full autonomy. Oversight was simply an annoyance that got in the way of progress.

  I guess I should have gotten rid of Wanda when I got rid of the other pests.

  He looked up as Wanda stormed through his door. He stood up. “Madam Secretary, what a nice surprise.”

  “Cut the crap, Martin. What the hell is going on at 51?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She slammed her palms on the desk. “Don’t give me that crap. You moved all the subjects to Area 51 and not twenty-four hours later, all hell breaks loose. How could there possibly have been a security breach this big?”

  Martin shrugged. “It was some computer thing. But it’s being handled.”

  “Handled? I’m getting reports of multiple deaths—both human and otherwise. Complete floors are overrun. They’re evacuating the base. That does not sound like it is being handled.”

  “You’ve heard about that? Who exactly have you heard from?”

  “It should have come from you, god damn it. In fact, why wasn’t I informed about the breach?”

  Martin shrugged. “Information is tightly controlled, you know that. There was no need to inform you.”

  “No need?” Wanda’s voice was deceptively soft. “I am the Secretary of the Air Force. Everything that happens involving the Air Force is my concern.”

  “Bullshit. You know as well as I do that there are a myriad of projects spread across the branches of the military that the higher ups have no knowledge of. You are now a paper pusher. You are not part of the inner circle.”

  Wanda narrowed her eyes. “Funny you should mention inner circle. There have been rumors for years about a group operating outside the restraints of the government, controlling black projects related to alien interactions.”

  “So?”

  “So some of the people who have been rumored to be part of this group seem to have disappeared. Two, in fact, are confirmed dead just today. That’s quite a coincidence.”

  Seems I underestimated you as well, Madam Secretary.

  He sat back, his hands teepeed in front of him. “Careful, Wanda. You are treading in waters that are way over your head, and there are sharks in these waters. Besides, it’s not all bad.”

  “Not all bad? Are you insane? The inmates are not just running the asylum—they are destroying it. Our people have been killed. And if these things get out—”

  Martin waved away her concerns. “They won’t get out. There are safeguards in place to avoid that. And we shouldn’t look at this like a problem but an opportunity. We can now see how these subjects react when not restrained. We can see how they do against our security operations.”

  A look of horror crossed Wanda’s face. “You realize people are going to die.”

  Martin shrugged. “True, but the knowledge we gain will be invaluable. We’ll learn how they attack, how they communicate, how they think and strategize. All things we can’t learn with them locked up behind glass walls.”

  Wanda paused, her eyes narrowing. “It’s quite a coincidence, a second coincidence, that the security system broke down just as all the subjects were getting settled in. Area 51 has never had a security breakdown like this before.”

  Martin smiled. “Yes, it is quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  Wanda paled. “Martin, how could you? All these people, they placed their trust in us. They signed on to—”

  Martin�
��s voice whipped out. “To do what is necessary to understand this threat. And that is exactly what they are doing. They agreed to the risk. They signed away their constitutional rights to work on this project and at that base.”

  “You’ve created a war game between humans and aliens.”

  Martin smiled. “With one big difference—we know exactly how this one is going to end.”

  Wanda’s mouth fell open. “The Manhattan Protocol.”

  Martin smiled. “Like I said - they won’t get out. As soon as there is any chance of them escaping, the entire facility will be bombed. No one will escape. No one will talk. And most importantly, no one will know but us.”

  “Are you even trying to get the staff out?”

  “The base has been evacuated of all non-security personnel outside of Buildings 34 and 39. And any personnel who make it to the surface from 34 and 39 will also be evacuated. I’m not a monster.”

  Wanda reared back and stared at Martin, her mouth hanging open for a second before she closed it. “How could you do this? It’s beyond reckless. It’s criminal.”

  Martin narrowed his eyes. In that moment, Wanda represented every paper pusher who stood in the way of real progress. They could be years ahead in research if the powers that be had some vision, had any idea of the stakes of their failure to act.

  Just thinking of the years they had wasted made Martin’s blood boil. His voice lashed out. “We’ve had these aliens in our custody for what? Ten years? Twenty? Thirty? And what do we know? Their resting heart rate. That they prefer the dark to the light or vice versa. This is not a zoo. We need to know the type of threat they possess. We need to know how they defend themselves and how they attack. And we can’t learn that by taking their damn temperature.”

  “But you are putting human lives at risk!”

  “They are already at risk! Humans are being grabbed every year and you damn well know it. Sightings indicate this threat is only growing bolder. There will be a point when the aliens stop watching and start interacting on a much larger level. So we can study how they fight now or when it’s too late. And I’d rather do it now.”