The Void Protocol

by F. Paul Wilson

EXIT 83—GARDEN STATE PARKWAY

  “They’re not straight ahead anymore,” Marie said.

  Laura let up on the gas. “Where’d they go?”

  “I don’t think they went anywhere, but they’re off to the right now. I’ve had a feeling they’ve been edging that way for a little while, but now I’m sure. Definitely to the west now.”

  Laura had been expecting this eventually. The parkway didn’t run due south all the way. It angled south-southwest for a while, then south-southeast, but always stayed to the east of the Pine Barrens. So if the nadaný were on the edge of the pines, as Ruth had said, they’d inevitably shift from dead ahead to somewhere rightward.

  “Good. That means we’re getting close.”

  They’d just passed an exit ramp so they’d have to settle for the next one, which turned out to be Route 37 in Toms River. They took that west. Despite the traffic lights and congestion, they made decent time along the six-lane blacktop.

  “I think we’re getting close,” Marie said as they passed a sign informing them they were entering the Borough of Lakehurst.

  “Hey, Lakehurst!” Cyrus said, popping up from the back and thrusting his head into the space between the front seats. “I’ve heard of that.”

  “Well, yeah,” Laura said. “The Hindenburg blew up at the air station there.”

  And right on cue, they passed a sign pointing straight ahead for Naval Station.

  “I know,” Cyrus said. “Crashed and burned back in the thirties. I saw it on Ghost Hunters.”

  “What’s that?”

  “TV show about paranormal stuff—you know, ghosts and that crap.”

  “Hey, I saw that one too,” Tanisha said. “They went through that haunted hangar.”

  “Yeah. Hangar One. That’s where they collected all the bodies from the Hindenburg to identify them. Supposed to be haunted.”

  Laura said, “You’re both into the paranormal stuff?”

  “Well, duh,” Cyrus said. “Darlin’, when you can make something disappear just by squeezing it, yeah, you’re into paranormal stuff.”

  “Okay. Dumb question. Sorry.”

  “No problem. I follow a lot of that stuff but I’ve never found a show or a book that investigated or even mentioned anybody who can do what I do.”

  Tanisha said, “I’ve heard telekinesis talked about a lot but they never investigated anybody real.”

  “No spoon benders?” Laura said.

  Tanisha laughed. “Yeah, but spoon benders aren’t real. They’re a joke. It’s got to be a certain kind of spoon and they’ve got to hold it a certain way under certain conditions. Total bullshit.”

  “Can you bend a spoon?”

  “Not one that’s metal or silver. I can break a plastic spoon but I don’t have to be holding on to it. I can break it while it’s lying on a table. I’m not strong enough for a metal spoon, though. Not yet, anyway. I can move one across a table and make it float a little, but I can’t bend it.”

  Following the Naval Station arrows they wound up on a two-lane county road designated 547 and followed that till they came to the main gate.

  Welcome to

  Joint Base

  McGuire—Dix—Lakehurst

  On impulse, Laura pulled in and stopped in the visitor parking area.

  “This isn’t it,” Marie said. “We’re close, but—”

  “Just want to take a breather and get our bearings,” she said. “And think.”

  Seeing Joint Base on the sign had triggered something. The mail drop for the supposed multivitamin injections at the Modern Motherhood Clinics had been positioned cheek-by-jowl with Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling.

  Joint bases kept popping up … Rick’s mention of Pentagon black funding for Operation Synapse … a synapse on the logo for the multivite injections …

  Military bases, joint or otherwise, were run by the Pentagon …

  She turned to Marie. “You say they’re close?”

  A confident nod. “Very.”

  “Then they’re here … on this base.”

  “Yes!” Cyrus said, punching the back of the seat and jolting Laura and Marie. “Let’s go find them!”

  Laura pointed to a sign that said tours were Wednesday and Saturday and the base was presently closed to visitors.

  “So much for the possibility of walking around and triangulating their location,” she said.

  “We can sneak in,” Cyrus said.

  “Getting ourselves arrested won’t help anybody. Let’s try driving around the perimeter first.” To Marie: “Which way are they from here?”

  She pointed to the access road that ran straight back behind the security kiosk. “Right down there.”

  Laura checked her dashboard map and saw where another county road—571—intersected this one a mile or so away, and would take them along the base’s northern flank.

  The new road turned out to be another two-lane blacktop. They traveled for about four miles or so through thick pine woods broken by scattered ranch houses to the left and right before Marie raised a hand and pointed past Laura through the driver’s window.

  “Okay. If there’s such a direction as due left, that’s where they are from here.”

  Another azimuth—something she’d learned from Rick on their panacea hunt. You can locate something by crossing two azimuths that point to it from different angles.

  Just up ahead on the left, Laura spotted a light through the trees and slowed. Looking like a half-buried barrel, a battered Quonset sat at the end of a short, sandy driveway. The flat end faced the street; a light over the single door illuminated a sign proclaiming that they bought all kinds of scrap metal.

  She slowed, then pulled in.

  “This can’t be it,” Cyrus said.

  “Somewhere behind it,” Marie said.

  Laura couldn’t see any light or signs of life. “The place looks closed. Let’s check the back for a road.”

  Her Audi had all-wheel drive so she figured it could handle a sandy road should they find one. She drove around past the Quonset and came upon a pile of rusting old cars, some intact, some in pieces. But the trees formed a solid barrier along the back end of the property, offering no break for a road.

  “Are they straight ahead?” Laura said.

  Marie nodded.

  That meant they weren’t in the Quonset hut, they were somewhere in the woods.

  She brought up the satellite view on her dashboard and saw nothing but trees. And yet if Marie’s sense was right, the azimuths would intersect dead ahead, putting the nadaný somewhere out there. Could the satellite image have been altered, erasing the building? Or was it camouflaged?

  Or underground?

  All four of them jumped and Tanisha gave a little yelp as someone knocked on the rear window. Laura’s side mirror showed a heavyset black fellow in greasy mechanic’s blue overalls.

  “You be lost or sumpin’?” he said as Laura lowered her window.

  “I’m afraid we are. We’re looking for a road into the woods.”

  “Well, you inna wrong place, lady. Way wrong.”

  “I see that now,” Laura said.

  She was trying to get a handle on this guy. His name patch said Chet. He was clean-shaven with an intelligent look that didn’t fit with his bad grammar. And he looked jumpy.

  “If’n yer wantin’ a road, you gots Hangar Road that way,” he said, pointing back the way they’d come, “and you gots Oakwood Road the other way. But you ain’t gonna find no road back here.”

  “Where do those other roads go?”

  “Don’t go nowheres. They goes into the trees and one just stops and the other comes back out agin.”

  “That won’t help,” she said. “Let me back this up to the front again. I need to ask you something.”

  Limping like a bad Walter Brennan impersonation, Chet followed her as she reversed to the front of the Quonset hut.

  “No need to get out of the car,” he said as she opened her door.

  Now t
hat seemed an odd thing to say, so she did just that.

  “Lady, I said—”

  “I know what you said but I’ve been driving a long time and I need to stretch a little.” Which was entirely true.

  Tanisha, Marie, and Cyrus did the same, ambling around to Laura’s side of the car. Cyrus picked up a short steel bolt from the ground and was casually tossing it back and forth between his hands as he leaned against the SUV. Chet look jumpier than ever as he stopped by the front fender.

  Laura was about to speak when a light passed by overhead. Even though it had been at treetop level, she ducked.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “They’s called pine lights,” Chet said. “Mostly y’see ’em on summer nights but we gots a lotta them hangin’ ’round here.”

  Another one followed, maybe the size of a beachball, but it wasn’t a glowing object. It had no discernible substance … just light. A globule of pale yellow light.

  “What are they?”

  “Dunno. Some say they’s ball lightnin’ or some kinda St. Elmo’s fire. Some say it’s swamp gas, and some say it’s the souls of dead Pineys coming back for a visit.”

  “ ‘Pineys’?” Marie said.

  “Yeah. Folks like me what was raised here in the Pines.”

  Another light flew overhead. Laura noticed they all seemed headed for the woods behind the scrap yard.

  Chet cleared his throat. “So I’m asking again: You folks lookin’ for sumpin’?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Laura said. “We want to know if there’s any kind of building back there in the trees.”

  And now he looked ready to jump out of his skin.

  “What you talkin’ ’bout? Ain’t nothin’ back there but trees. That’s Navy property, owned by the base.”

  “No military installation of any type?”

  He squinted at Laura. “Where you get this crazy-ass idea? You been drinkin’ or sumpin’? Nothin’ back there. Never was. Check your Google maps. They tell ya.”

  Methinks he doth protest too much.

  Laura turned to the others. “I think we’ve found the place we’re looking for. Agree? Disagree?”

  “Most definitely,” Cyrus said as the others nodded.

  “And what place would that be?” Chet said. “’Cause whatever you lookin’ for, unless it’s scrap metal, this ain’t it.”

  What would Rick do here? Laura thought. He’d push some buttons and see if any lights came on. Okay. Let’s mash down on a big one.

  “Some friends of ours disappeared earlier today. No, wait. ‘Disappeared’ isn’t right. They were abducted. And we’re pretty sure they were brought here.”

  His eyes widened, then he gave a nervous laugh. “Whaaaat? That just could be the craziest talk I ever heard of!”

  “Can we look inside?” Cyrus said.

  “No,” the man blurted, then seemed to reconsider. He shrugged. “Okay. Can’t see no harm in lettin’ you look. Go ahead. But on one condition: You don’t find your friends, you get back in your car and you haul your crazy asses outta here.”

  “Deal,” Laura said.

  She was sure Chet was somehow involved in all this. He may not have participated in the abductions himself, but his junkyard backed up to military property, and everything pointed to military involvement.

  She was also sure she’d find no nadaný tied up in the hut, but maybe something would point her in the right direction.

  “Holy–!” Cyrus cried.

  Laura saw him looking at his empty hands in wonder. “Something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice was tinged with awe.

  “Come on then,” Chet said.

  Shaking his head and muttering something about how in all his days he’d never heard nothin’ as crazy as all this, he limped to the door and held it for them as they filed in.

  The inside was dimly lit, with car junk strewn everywhere. Windshields, fenders, bumpers, engines—an automotive abattoir. A huge cabinet labeled PARTS dominated the space.

  The door closed and then Laura heard a distinctive ratcheting sound. She turned to find Chet pointing a pistol at them.

  “Now look what you’ve gone and made me do,” he said in an exasperated tone. “I offered you one opportunity after another to move on, but you kept pushing. So now …”

  His diction had changed and his grammar was perfect.

  Cyrus glanced at Laura. “And you told me no guns,” he said in a disgruntled tone.

  Laura shook her head and said nothing. Another gun right now might well turn this bad situation tragic.

  “All four of you,” Chet said, waving the pistol, “lie flat on the floor.”

  “It’s filthy!” Tanisha said.

  Chet—or whatever his name was—walked up to her and pointed the pistol in her face. “This is not a game, girl. Yes, it’s filthy, but if you look you’ll see there’s no blood on it. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

  Laura noticed his limp was gone.

  Cyrus stood beside Tanisha. In a calm voice he said, “See that little lever on the left side of the pistol? Can you flip it up for me?”

  She frowned, looking puzzled. “What? Yeah, I guess so.”

  Laura wasn’t sure what was happening until Cyrus’s hand reached out and grabbed the barrel of Chet’s pistol. He squeezed, then released, and most of the barrel was gone. The muzzle hit the floor with a metallic clink.

  “Holy crap!” Cy said, staring at his hand. “Hey, y’all! Look at me!”

  While Cy stared in surprise, Chet gaped in shocked disbelief at the back half of the pistol that remained in his hand.

  “What? What?”

  Laura was having a similar reaction. Cyrus hadn’t been able to disappear metal before. Now …

  But Cyrus wasn’t through. He grabbed Chet’s wrist and spoke in a mocking tone. “Now look what y’all gone and made me do.” As Chet tried to wrench free Cyrus added, “Hold very still or I’ll do the same to your arm, and then your hand will be hitting the floor.”

  She didn’t know if Cyrus would do that, and she didn’t want him forced into something he might long regret. But it was important for Chet to believe he would lose his hand if he didn’t cooperate.

  “Not that again!” Laura cried. “You made such a mess last time!”

  For an instant Cyrus looked at her as if she were crazy, then he got it.

  “Why not? This creep pulled a gun on us. I should make sure he never pulls a gun on anyone again!”

  “No!” Chet said, close to a wail. He dropped the remnant of the pistol. “Don’t!”

  “You do what you have to, Cy,” Marie said, jumping on board. “But I’m not cleaning up this time. All that blood …”

  “Who cares about cleaning up?” Cyrus said. “It’s not our place.”

  Laura nodded. Good one.

  “Wait-wait-wait!” Chet said. “Don’t do it! Whatever it is you do, please don’t do it!”

  Cyrus looked at Laura and affected a whine. “But I’m going to get tired of holding on to him. It’ll be easier if I just—”

  “We have zip ties!” Chet cried.

  Every muscle in Laura’s body tightened at those words.

  She spoke through stiff lips. “Zip ties? Where did you get them?”

  “Someone brought them in and … and left them.”

  Laura decided to leave it at that until he was secured.

  Chet directed her to a console on the far side of the parts cabinet where she found an array of monitors. She wanted to study them, but allowed herself only a quick look. Some showed the outside perimeter of the Quonset, another showed what looked like the inside of an elevator.

  An elevator … Rick and the others were underground.

  She found the zip ties—the exact same type Rick always carried—in a gallon plastic baggie filled with all sorts of odds and ends and pocket paraphernalia—keys, gum, coins, a thumb drive. Next to the baggie she noticed a coffee cup emblazoned with HARV, and
a revolver of some sort lying on the console. Was someone else on duty here?

  “Where’s Harv?” she said, returning to his side.

  “Harv is me. Harvey.”

  “Your patch says ‘Chet.’ ”

  He shrugged. “We wear whatever fits.”

  Maybe, maybe not.

  “Okay, Harv—if that’s really your name—hands behind your back.”

  With Cyrus’s help, she secured Harv’s hands with one of the ties, using the figure-eight technique Rick had shown her.

  “Who—who are you people?”

  Laura ignored the question and shook the sheaf of zip ties in his face.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “I told you: Someone left them.”

  She looked at the other three. “They’re Rick’s. He’s never without them.”

  Cyrus picked up the revolver, holding it by the grip. “Okay, tell the lady what she wants to know. And just so you don’t convince yourself that what happened to your gun before was just a parlor trick …”

  He squeezed the revolver’s grip and the rest of the gun fell onto the console—minus the grip.

  A sharp intake of breath from Harv. “Okay, okay! A bunch of people were brought in on stretchers earlier.”

  Yes!

  “Conscious? Unconscious? IVs running? What?”

  “No IVs, but all out cold. We were handed that baggy and told to stow it. I’m guessing their pockets were emptied along the way from wherever they came from. We were told nothing about them.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “I can’t tell you. Really I can’t.”

  Harv cried out as Cyrus gripped the back of his neck. “No-no-no-no-no! Please!”

  “Never done this before,” Cyrus said. “Could be real messy.”

  Cyrus was turning in a convincing performance as a psycho tough guy—at least she hoped it was a performance. But Laura was pretty sure he needed to have his fingers closed around something to make it “go away.” Harv didn’t know that, however.

  “They’re below!” he blurted.

  “Below?” Laura said.

  “In the bunker.”

  An underground bunker. Who’d have thought?

  “Why a bunker?” Marie said. “In case of World War Three?”

  Harv shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Or won’t tell us?” Cyrus said, giving Harv’s neck a little squeeze.