Buried in the Sky

by Ryan Mullaney

  It was more of an effort than necessary, but she wanted to leave as little trace of her presence as possible. She hopped from the first boat to another, and then to another before arriving in the island country's capital.

  She knew she had to take a flight sooner or later, so she decided on the busiest airport on the island where she would be more difficult to track if anyone was indeed watching for her movements. Even when traveling under the assumed name of Camille McCrae, she couldn't be too careful.

  The fake passport had been created by an old contact in her more traditional archaeological days early in her career. A man named Piotr. Together the two had forged documents to enter Syria to protect the artifacts from whatever museums the campaign of United States bombing runs had not already destroyed.

  She'd found herself in a hospital bed after a drone exploded the building next to the one she was in at the time. Piotr had carried her out of harm's way and to the nearest safe area where she could receive medical treatment for a separated shoulder and a concussion bordering on severe.

  After fleeing the country with far fewer ancient artifacts than she had hoped, Simone learned that the hospital she had been in was destroyed by a drone bomb. No survivors were reported.

  Simone's distrust of and disagreement with militaristic efforts had been cemented that day, and even while she was boarding a flight to America to meet once again with Clark Bannicheck, her stomach knotted. She trusted him more than she ever had in the past, but she believed that no matter what progress was made in their working relationship, she would never be free of doubts.

  If what Clark had told her about their organization was true, then she knew they were the most likely to have eyes on her every movement. Just to be safe, she left no trace of how she arrived in Jakarta, only that she took a flight out of there. Unless someone was watching her step off the boat, there would be no way of knowing how she got there, and no trail leading back to Indah.

  Simone sat in her window seat on the airplane and quietly watched the other passengers board. She put ear buds in her ears but did not listen to music. It was merely a way to keep others from striking up a conversation as she surreptitiously studied every single person on the flight.

  She watched passengers load luggage into overhead bins, watched the flight attendants, she even watched two individuals who she thought were air marshals, as they too appeared to be watching for any signs of trouble and not simply taking a flight back home.

  It was a long flight, which was conducive to bettering her ability to read people simply by studying their behavior and mannerisms, a practice she assumed would help her avoid another dangerous situation that presented itself as benign. She had been fooled by Solomon, and almost fooled by Halvar Ran. She wasn't going to let that happen again.

  "Would you like something to drink?" a flight attendant asked.

  Simone removed one ear bud and shook her head. "No, thank you. I don't drink."

  _____

  Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, United States

  The Florida air reminded Simone of her first trip to Mexico with Lincoln and April – hot and sunny to an almost oppressive degree.

  She'd landed in Orlando and immediately boarded a private plane that delivered her to Eglin AFB. She was the only passenger, but she felt comfortable. It would have weirded her out more if Clark had felt it necessary to send an escort.

  He trusted her.

  Simone stepped off the private plane and onto the tarmac where Clark and Lincoln were awaiting her arrival. She descended the portable ramp in sunglasses and a tank top with her hair flowing freely in the breeze.

  Lincoln blinked, amazement plain on his face as Simone approached. "Who are you and what have you done with Simone?"

  The question took her aback until she remembered that Lincoln hadn't seen her in quite some time, and when they parted, she had not been in her best state.

  In that time, she had indeed changed. Daily workouts had chiseled her figure and added twelve pounds of muscle. She had let her hair continue to grow to the point where it nearly touched her waist. Her olive skin had turned a deep bronze from constantly being outdoors in the sunshine.

  To Lincoln and Clark, she must have resembled a completely different person than the Simone Cassidy they had last seen. Happier and healthier. And stronger, for sure.

  She approached with a smile. "I'm happy to see you, too."

  Lincoln wrapped her in a huge hug. She held him close. They were more than just co-workers. They've been to hell and back with one another.

  Simone removed her sunglasses, her green eyes moving between Lincoln and Clark. "Thanks for having me back." She noticed the absence of April, but did not speak of it.

  "Couldn't do it without you," Clark said. "You look ready to take on the world."

  She considered the idea of the world being against them. Sometimes it felt that way.

  The three began walking. Clark continued, "We looked into the meteor sightings you reported. The one you saw, Simone, wasn't the only sighting."

  "There was another over Ascension Island," she said. "I saw a news article before it was taken down."

  Clark's face contorted into a frown. "Word gets out sometimes before anyone really knows what's happened."

  "What has happened?" Simone's gaze shifted to Lincoln. "UFO or what?"

  Lincoln grinned in amusement. "Not quite."

  "It was, in fact, a meteor," Clark said.

  Simone shook her head. "Just a meteor?"

  Lincoln turned to Simone. "Not quite."

  They came to an administrative building. Lincoln held the door for Simone and Clark to enter.

  Around winding corners and down long corridors, they took Simone to a windowless room somewhere within the center of the complex. Inside the small room was a desk with one computer and a monitor that looked outdated by a decade.

  Lincoln sat at the desk and pulled up a video. Simone watched his hand move the old white mouse, the kind with a track ball inside.

  "If UFOs are out of the question, where does that leave time travel?" she joked. "I used a keyboard like that in high school."

  Clark stood with his hands on the back of Lincoln's chair. "Our budgets are tied directly to each operation. We get what we need for you to do what you need. In the meantime, we get what's left over."

  Lincoln started the video. "Gotta love bureaucracy."

  Clark pointed at the screen with a pen. "There's no sound, so I'll explain what you're seeing."

  Simone studied the video, which showed a world map peppered with half a dozen indication marks -- one of which hovered over the South Atlantic Ocean.

  "This is Ascension Island," Clark said, and moved the pen to another part of the globe over China. "This is the one you saw, Simone. And these ... these are other sightings." He indicated each one individually. "Some provided no lead, others are believed to be a hoax, or perhaps something that could have resembled a meteor streaking across the sky. An airplane, for instance."

  All but three indication marks disappeared from the world map in the video.

  Clark continued, "These are the only sightings that we're sure of." He moved his pen from China to the South Atlantic Ocean and then over to the western coast of South America.

  "That's quite a wide spread," Simone said.

  "It is," Clark said. "They were not all seen at once, but it is believed that each meteor is a fragment of a larger piece that broke up before entering the Earth's atmosphere. We know the meteor in Ascension Island is real. We have confirmation that the British military is in possession of that first fragment. The second is the one you saw with your own eyes, Simone. Many others saw it as well, but no one has been able to locate where it may have impacted."

  "Could have burned up," Simone said. "It was as bright as daylight."

  "No chance," Clark said. "We're certain of that."

  Simone straightened. "You're certain it's still intact, but no one saw it impact?"

  "Disappeare
d in the clouds," Lincoln said, looking up at Simone.

  She put her hands on her hips, not entirely satisfied with the explanation. "What about the third one?"

  Lincoln tapped the old screen with his finger. "Most recent sighting. Locals saw it over the Peruvian jungle, near Chachapoyas."

  Simone took a breath as she tried to organize the information in her head. "So, why is this a big secret? If these aren't just meteors, what are they?"

  Clark motioned to Lincoln, who shut down the computer. "There is no internet in this room. No way to get into this computer from the outside world. Sometimes, working with what we've got has its advantages. There are four of us and only four of us who know this information."

  Simone hesitated to ask, but the urge for transparency overcame the urge to avoid the question. "The three of us and who else?"

  Lincoln traded a look with Clark.

  "April Farren," Clark said. He turned to Lincoln. "Could you excuse us for a moment?"

  Lincoln left without a word.

  Once the door was closed tightly and Lincoln's departing footsteps were no longer audible from inside the room, Clark looked into Simone's eyes. "There will not be a problem, will there?"

  Simone swallowed the resentment she felt from the implication that she couldn't work with April. "I don't have a problem."

  "April is on her way back from speaking with British authorities on Ascension Island. She will arrive within twelve hours, and when she arrives, she will join you and Lincoln on a direct flight to Peru." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "We cannot afford to work any other way. I need you, and I need April. It may not be the ideal situation for everyone's tastes, but it is the ideal situation for retrieving the next meteor fragment, an importance which supersedes any personal resentment you might harbor for one another."

  "I don't resent her," Simone said.

  "And neither does she resent you," Clark said. "I've spoken with her on this as I am with you right now. The hatchet is buried. All I am asking is that you leave it so."

  Simone bit her tongue. As much as she wanted to explain exactly what happened between her and April in Nigeria, she knew Clark was not interested in hearing who was the cause for what. He wanted results only.

  Instead, she simply said, "Okay."

  Clark rested a hand on Simone's shoulder. "I know you'll do well."

  "I'll do better if you tell me what the heck I'm looking for."

  Clark lowered his arm. "New protocol requires an exam before briefing. I've showed you as much as I could, perhaps even a little more than I should."

  "Physical?" she asked.

  "You will meet first with Michaela, as usual, and then proceed directly to Doctor Mabry."

  A glimmer of faint recognition came to Simone. She'd heard the name before. "The staff psychiatrist?"

  Clark nodded. "For a psychological evaluation."

  Simone blinked, expecting a punchline but none came. "A psych eval?"

  "As I've said, new protocol. My superiors wish to avoid any further incidents like the one in Nigeria."

  She stood in disbelief, wondering if the request had more to do with her prior alcoholism and drug addiction than it did with her altercation with April. As Simone recalled, she was the one told to go screw herself, not the one who stormed off in the middle of a mission, leaving her partners to fend for themselves.

  Simone shook the thought aside, wishing not to assume this was the first crack in the trust she had just built with Clark, and continued to build.

  "If I do this for you," she said, "I want something in return."

  "If I can get it for you, I will. Name it."

  Simone paused, then spoke in a voice just above a whisper. "You said this room is safe and secure?"

  "It is. But keep your voice low."

  Simone leaned closer and tried to keep her lips from moving. No precaution seemed too ridiculous. "You said my sister was taken into the care of a family friend before she died. I want to know who that is and where I can find them."

  She stepped back, holding eye contact with Clark to let him know she wouldn't take no for an answer so easily.

  There was a long pause. Then, "I haven't heard from him in almost thirty years, Simone. I don't know where he is or if he's even still alive. Why do you want to know?"

  "I don't need a reason."

  "Fair enough. Pass the exam and you will know." Clark moved to the door and held it open for Simone. "No one is permitted in here unsupervised."

  Simone got the hint and left the room.

  5.

  Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, United States

  The nurse Michaela dropped the test result paperwork on the exam room desk and swiveled in her chair to face Simone.

  "How?" she asked. Her jaw hung open in astonishment.

  Simone shrugged. "Diet and exercise?"

  "Simone..." Michaela pushed toward Simone on the wheeled office chair. "Can I be frank?"

  "Sure."

  After a breath, Michaela said, "I was told you left in ... in a considerably worse condition than you're in right now. Was there any truth to that?"

  "Whatever they told you," Simone said, "it was probably worse."

  Michaela's gaze hung on Simone where she sat on the edge of the exam table. She swung back to grab the paperwork, but thought twice and dropped it back onto the desk. She spun back to Simone. "You're in the best shape of your life. You don't need test results to tell you that. Are you training for the Olympic trials again?"

  Simone shook her head. "For controlled substance violations, IOC bans for life."

  "Thankfully, we don't. Are you taking anything currently?"

  "No."

  "Nothing?"

  "Just pot now and then, but that's not harmful."

  "No painkillers? No alcohol? Nothing else?" Michaela asked with skepticism.

  Simone shook her head once again. "Absolutely nothing else."

  "So, you quit everything cold turkey, hit the gym, and come back looking like a superhero? I'm sorry, Simone, but it's my job to ask."

  "I understand. But that's pretty much it. And it wasn't quite as easy as you make it sound. I beat myself up all day, every day for months. It was hard as hell."

  "Do you feel you're in a position to go back out in the field?" Michaela asked.

  "What do the test results say?" Simone's words came out more bitter than she intended. "I'm sorry, I just ... I hate doctors and physical exams and all this … this pageantry. I know you're just doing your job, but no test is going to tell you how I feel with as much certainty as I feel it. I've never been more prepared for this."

  "Physically, yes," Michaela said. "What about mentally?"

  "I'm going to Dr. Mabry next."

  "And do you feel just as confident about that as you do this?"

  The question halted Simone. Physical conditioning was one thing, but the mind was a different beast entirely. Even though her grueling exercise routine and meditation practices did help to center her thoughts, she had no idea what it would be like once she stepped out of the plane in Peru, working again for an organization she didn't quite trust, working alongside a partner that likely despised her, working to locate and retrieve an artifact that she still didn't understand.

  "Simone?"

  She looked up. "I'm confident I can do the job. Is there anything else we have to discuss?"

  Michaela shook her head. "That's it."

  Simone hopped to the floor and went for the door. "I'll see you when I get back."

  She exited before the conversation could continue any further.

  _____

  An armed escort took Simone to Dr. Earl Mabry's office.

  She was not permitted to roam the complex freely. It appeared that no one was except for Clark. She wondered to herself if the heightened security came from him or the superiors that Simone had only heard of. She had never seen them, and didn't even know their names.

  As she debated whether it was reasonable to cast d
oubt on their existence, Simone's escort knocked on the door they had come to and then opened it for Simone to enter.

  Within, she found herself standing before another sparse and plainly decorated room. As their outfit was often on the move from one AFB to another, it made sense that Dr. Mabry's office looked as if the man had spent very little time there.

  "Good afternoon," he said, standing to round the desk and shake Simone's hand. "You must be Simone Cassidy."

  "Pleasure," she said.

  Dr. Mabry adjusted his glasses and indicated a chair. "Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable."

  Simone sat in a chair that could hardly be considered comfortable.

  Dr. Mabry sat on the edge of his desk. "I've heard a lot about you."

  "Uh oh," Simone joked.

  Dr. Mabry chuckled. "Relax, it's all good." He wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a salt-and-pepper beard that gave the impression of a university professor who appealed more to his free-thinking students than his academic superiors.

  "Then you really haven't heard much," Simone said.

  "Good is a relative term. Perhaps useful is more accurate. It's all good because we can use it to gain a better understanding."

  "Of what?" Simone shifted in her seat.

  "Of you," he said. "I know, I know ... it's presumptuous of me to assume I can ever understand another person and all of the intricacies of what makes you, you. I'm not here to do that. I'm simply a mediator between yourself and your thoughts. That's it. I'm not here to tell you anything. I'm just here to ask questions and listen."

  Sensing an opportunity to turn the meeting in her favor, Simone said, "What have you heard about me?"

  Dr. Mabry reached back to grab a folder from his desk. He turned back and laid the folder in his lap, placing his hands atop it. "All that's in your file."

  Crap. The file looked larger than Simone would have guessed. But the mere fact that they had a file on her at all made her ill at ease. Everything she did for Clark had been recorded, it seemed. She had been given freedom to operate in the field as she deemed necessary in each situation, but she was not free from Clark and his team knowing about it.