CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
“Strange Contraption”
Otto spotted a slag of metal in the ashes and kicked it free. It was a partially melted federal agent’s badge. He picked it up in a gloved hand and showed it to Alvarez. Next to the agent’s remains were three empty Red Bulls and a fourth unopened. Behind him, the cavern descended in broad galleries like the Moscow subway.
“Steve,” Otto said.
Steve growled.
“Steve, come!”
Steve whined.
“Drop the leg and come!”
The big dog slunk out from behind its cover head hung in shame.
“Great,” Alvarez said. “Now he’s got a taste for human meat.”
“I can always give him Spam,” Otto said. “Dogs can’t tell the difference.”
Alvarez took lead shining his flashlight on the phosphorescent stairs before him. “You know why the people of the South Pacific love Spam above all other meats, don’t you? It most closely resembles the taste of human flesh.”
Overcome with awe they proceeded in silence. It seemed to Otto that joking about cannibalism inside nature’s tabernacle was blasphemous. Only God could create such a place. On the other hand, you had to laugh. What else could you do? Otto wished he had a cross to light the way, automatically touched the tat on his chest and turned it into a genuflection. He caught Alvarez looking at him oddly before turning away.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.
Steve growled and Otto grabbed him by the collar and held him back. “Heel.”
Steve had the scent. If they had to retrace their steps, Steve would know the way.
The cavern floor tilted downward precipitously and they had to scramble down to the next gallery on their butts, Steve skittering down on four legs. They descended for perhaps twenty minutes when up ahead they saw yellow light, electric light. Otto held a hand up and Alvarez paused. He looked at his watch. They had been in the cave for almost an hour.
Steve at his heel, Otto led Alvarez across a vast gallery with an undulating floor marked with stalagmites and columns. It was like tracking a fugitive through a ghost Disney World. It was almost impossible not to become distracted by the spectacular formations around them.
As they approached the light, they saw it reflected off a smooth cave wall veering to the right until it disappeared around the bend. Otto pointed at Steve. “Stay.”
Steve sat, tongue lolling, smacking his lips.
Pistol in both hands Otto crouched and edged around the corner moving clockwise. Ten meters on he came upon a natural barrier, a knife-edge limestone ledge caused by steady seepage from the ceiling high above. Otto crept to this natural bulwark and peeked between limestone teeth. He was both shocked to his soul and deeply reassured.
He always knew he would find something like this. His whole life had been a preparation for this moment.
Twenty meters into another vast chamber with a hemispherical ceiling, Emil Witherspoon sat in a gimbals-mounted chair in the center of two massive metal rings, joined at the north and south pole to form the outline of a sphere approximately five meters in diameter. The apparatus rested on a stout wooden deck, obviously tailored to the terrain. Three large cones that looked like pyramidal Daleks surrounded the platform. The chair appeared to be made of metal and plastic. In front of Witherspoon, a thick black wand extended from the base, flowing into a triangle with handlebars at the end. A red and white Igloo ice chest rested on the platform.
On top of the Igloo was the lodge ledger.
Witherspoon gripped the T-top device with both hands and stared into space, motionless.
Otto felt Alvarez creep up behind him. They looked in silence.
“What is it?” Alvarez whispered.
“Fuck if I know,” Otto replied. “It’s Witherspoon in some kind of freakin’ Jack Kirby machine.”
They again lapsed into silence as their eyes swept the rest of the chamber. There was a substantial lake on the other side of the device, perhaps ten meters across. Light came from a series of metal clamp lamps affixed to planks drilled into the wall with cords running up to and beneath Witherspoon’s platform.
The bulbs were curly energy savers. A low electric thrum filled the chamber. Otto gestured for Alvarez to take up position behind Witherspoon’s left shoulder while Otto took the right. Pistol gripped in both hands Otto circled counter-clockwise until he was well within Witherspoon’s view.
“Mr. Witherspoon!” he said, shattering the silence.
There was no response. Otto approached, pistol trained on the caretaker’s chest. Now he saw that Witherspoon was attached to the machine via a black stripe across his forehead. A tiny wire led from the stripe into the control unit, which Witherspoon gripped in both hands.
Two cans of Mountain Dew lay at the caretaker’s feet.
Witherspoon was not entirely frozen. His fingers strained and squeezed as if he were performing ninja power focusing techniques. A
frisson
ran up Otto’s spine. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like what Witherspoon was doing.
Otto was wearing gloves. Keeping the pistol trained on Witherspoon he ran up to the platform, grabbed the tape where it stuck to the caretaker’s head and yanked it loose. It fell limply to one side.
Witherspoon’s eyes popped into focus. He looked around as if seeing the place for the first time before his gaze settled on Otto.
“Mr. White. I thought we agreed the mountains were off-limits.”
Alvarez circled around from the other side so that both men now confronted the caretaker with their guns, at four and seven.
“What are you doing, Mr. Witherspoon?”
Witherspoon released the control stalk, crossed his arms and offered a chilly smile. “Well this day had to come sooner or later. It appears we are at a stand-off.”
“Where’s the stand-off?” Otto said. “I could blow you away right now.”
“Without learning anything? I don’t think so, Mr. White. You have questions. I have answers.”
“Okay. Who are you?”
The frosty smile. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“He’s stalling,” Alvarez said.
A flame flickered behind one chilly blue eye.
Otto stuffed his gun in his pants and leaped onto the platform. “He’s gonna blow! Help me get him into the lake!”
Alvarez joined him, quickly and efficiently cutting through a shoulder strap with a pocket knife. They each took Witherspoon by an armpit--he offered no resistance, dragged him off the platform and into the gelid lake.
***
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
“Ice Chest”
Wednesday evening.
Otto and Alvarez dragged Witherspoon, tassled loafers scraping, until they stood waist-high in the numbing water. Smoke seeped from Witherspoon’s nose as Otto pushed his head beneath the surface gripping the caretaker by his collar. Witherspoon didn’t struggle. He’d gone limp, a line of tiny bubbles escaping from one corner of his mouth.
Abruptly the caretaker’s right rear leg cleared the water and smacked Alvarez in the face. Alvarez stepped back cupping his chin. The back of Witherspoon’s calf sizzled then burst into a line of improbably yellow flame burning through the soaked fabric.
“Get back!” Alvarez said wading for shore. “He’s gonna blow!”
Otto felt heat building through the water but maintained his grip on the caretaker’s collar. Witherspoon went wild, arms and legs thrashing with all his might as if he were trying to stave off drowning. Otto pushed his head deeper. A gout of flame burst through the surface of the lake beginning at Witherspoon’s heels. A column of fire, smoke and water danced and collapsed. The smell of burning flesh filled the air along with a gray cloud that quickly dissipated in the cave’s internal winds.
The water hissed and boiled for an instant then went silent. Otto realized he’d been holding his breath. Dragging Witherspoon by the collar, he backed out of the lake. The caretaker’s torso and head appeared intact. His eyes had turned red.
Otto pulled the caretaker out of the lake and left him lying flat like a set of winter long johns. Alvarez stared at the body. Witherspoon’s mouth had pulled into a rictus grin. Steve approached tentatively and sniffed.
“Leave it!” Otto said.
“Jesus,” Alvarez said. He closed Witherspoon’s eyes. They popped open. He closed them again. They popped open again.
“Now what do we do?” Alvarez said.
“Get that ice chest. Take out whatever’s in there but keep the ice.”
“Oh man…”
“It just makes sense. We’ve got to get this head to Cheyenne as soon as possible.”
Alvarez went to the ice chest and removed three cans of Mountain Dew and two Red Bulls. He popped one of the Mountain Dews.
“You want a Dew?”
“No thanks. Come over here and help me hold him steady.”
Alvarez brought the ice chest and set it down on the cave floor. Otto took out a wicked-looking black knife with a serrated edge.
“Hold his head steady. This could get messy.”
As Alvarez gripped the caretaker’s head with both hands Otto sawed through the neck. Surprisingly there wasn’t much blood. It seemed oddly congealed and reluctant to flow. It was hard slippery work. Otto kept losing his grip in what blood there was and having to rinse it off in the lake.
His knife made a moist vibrating sound as he cut through the spine that traveled up his arm and got into his head causing a sharp pain to bloom in his right temple. Even in the chill of the cave and water he began to sweat. Steve crossed his forepaws and laid his muzzle down looking longingly at the corpse. He whined.
“Shut up!” Otto snarled.
The head came loose. Otto placed it in the ice chest on a bed of ice and closed the lid. They went to the device. The wooden platform had obviously been built there but the rest of it looked alien.
Alien
.
Otto had an instant of gut-clenching terror. An invisible repellant urged him to flee. He stifled a scream.
Alien
.
As in from another world, another galaxy, another universe rife with infinite wonder and terror. Otto felt the weight of history pressing down on him as if the earth itself were balanced on one spiked stiletto. There should have been an Army Division present along with the President and Secretary of State. Ray Bradbury should have been there. Not he who didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.
“Hey.”
Otto felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, are you all right?”
Otto physically shook himself and blew a raspberry.
Snap out of it!
He had a job to do.
“I’m good.”
Otto went to one of three two-meter tall pyramidal black towers surrounding the platform. The top had a lattice frame like an oil derrick. Otto removed his pen light and shined it into the lattice. A red sphere the size of a ping-pong ball lay on a black metal base.
“Red balls,” Otto said.
Alvarez went to another of the towers and looked. “Here too.”
“I think we’re looking at some kind of receiving station for a teleportation device,” Otto said.
Alvarez looked at him in astonishment. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m deadly serious. Just because we don’t know what it is doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Looks like it’s been happening for some time.”
“What’s been happening?”
“Alien fuckin’ invasion. I believe we will find a microscopic vehicle at the top of Witherspoon’s spine. I believe the three red spheres atop Mts. Archimedes, Pythagoras and Isosceles are some kind of transceiver that focuses right here on this platform. It’s a teleportation device.”
Alvarez palmed his face. “I have a headache just thinking about it. Where’s this power coming from?”
Both men looked at the platform into which the cables ran.
Steve got to his feet and went ballistic. Sharp yelps and wild ululations ricocheted around the cavern like a hail storm. Steve took off like a shot deeper into the cave.
“Steve! Stop!” Otto yelled.
For an instant there was only the click-clatter of Steve’s claws on stone.
The piercing retort of a bullet struck like a cold slap to the face. Steve yelped and went silent.
Seconds later Ryan Hornbuckle approached holding his smoking pistol.
***
CHAPTER SEVENTY
“Down and Out”
“OTTO NO!” Alvarez shouted reaching for his friend.
Otto drew his pistol and put three in Hornbuckle’s chest. Alvarez collided with Otto sweeping his gun arm down. Too late. Hornbuckle was dead before he hit the ground. Otto looked at the gun in his hand, jammed it in his pants and ran toward Steve, leaping over Hornbuckle’s body.
The big dog was barely alive. Otto took Steve’s head in his lap and cooed at him while his eyes dimmed. “Who’s the greatest dog who ever lived?” Otto sobbed.
Alvarez held back, unwilling to intrude on Otto’s grief. At the same time, Alvarez drew his pistol.
For long moments, Otto held the dog. The silence stretched to the snapping point.
“You just killed a federal agent.”
Otto looked up with red swollen eyes. “I know.”
“I should put you under arrest.”
“Not until we get to the bottom of this, Gus. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Alvarez put his pistol up. “Do you promise you’ll work with me until it’s done and not try to bolt?”
“I give you my word.”
“Shit,” Alvarez said. “Shit shit shit. SHIT!”
The word buzzed around their heads and faded away.
Otto stood, Steve’s blood on his clothes and hands. He went over to Hornbuckle’s dead body, knelt, and pulled the agent’s wallet. He flipped through the wallet. There were several hundred dollars in cash, numerous credit cards. No pictures of loved ones. Nothing personal. In a hidden pocket Otto found a folded piece of foolscap. He took it out and opened it. It contained six numbers. All were three digits. Five of them surrounded a central number on a pentagon pattern. The central number was 666. He showed it to Alvarez.
“What the fuck,” the agent said.
Otto refolded the piece of paper and put it in his vest pocket where it wouldn’t get wet. “Let’s go. There’s got to be another entrance on the property.”
Each hoisted one side of the ice chest.
“Otto!” Stella cried, running forward, almost slipping on the rocks. Otto dropped the ice chest and took her in his arms as she slammed into him. She trembled in his grip.
“Gabe’s dead,” she choked “I shot him. It wasn’t Gabe.”
“What? Slow down!”
Stepping back and wiping the tears from her face Stella told them about Gabe’s phone call and her encounter with the un-Gabe. “I don’t understand what’s happening!”
Otto looked at Alvarez who nodded imperceptibly. Stella noticed Hornbuckle’s body for the first time.
“What happened to him?”
“I shot him,” Otto said. “He killed Steve.”
“Oh, Otto, no.” She hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”
Otto introduced Stella to Alvarez. She shook his hand and turned to Otto.
“Did you believe you were in danger from Agent Hornbuckle?”
Otto looked into her brown eyes and saw what was happening. “Absolutely. I was in fear for our lives. He had no reason to shoot Steve. He looked like a madman.”
Alvarez shook his head and turned away. Otto touched Stella’s head. His hand came away with a dab of blood. He raised his eyebrows.
“Something struck me when I shot Gabe. Like a piece of shrapnel or something.”
Otto pulled a bandana from his backpack, dipped it in the lake and used it to swab the cut. He showed Stella the staging platform and told her all that had transpired since they’d headed up the mountain that morning.
“All right,” she said when he was finished. “Let’s get this head down the mountain.”
“Why did the un-Gabe call Stella?” Otto said, holding onto one end of the ice chest.
“He must have been infected and taken over,” Alvarez said. “If this really is an alien race it may be impossible for us to ever understand their motives.”
That sense of vertigo came rushing back as if Otto had suddenly stepped off the edge of the earth. It was his greatest fear--an unknown implacable enemy whose very existence called into question everything he believed.
He pushed it away through sheer force of will.
“All living things subscribe to a list of hierarchies,” Otto said. “First, self-preservation. Second, food. Third, to reproduce.”
“It’s not reasonable or rational to think an alien would want to mate with a human being,” Alvarez said.
“Reasonable and rational are out the window,” Otto said. “How do we know what they want? Can a fish comprehend what a man wants?”
They slid down a steep embankment on their butts holding the ice chest between them.
“Apples and oranges,” Alvarez said. “We’re self-aware and never discount the power of imagination. The SETI Institute has been preparing for this moment for decades.”
“The most important question,” Stella said, “is what are they doing here in the first place?”
Phosphorescent walls provided enough illumination to make their way steadily down the cave until they came to a flat floor with a perfectly rectangular corridor cut into the living granite. The corridor was about ten meters in length. A steel ladder clung to the wall at the far end.
How had the
aliens
managed to create this geometrically perfect tunnel?
They knew nothing about the enemy.
“This opens up into the garage,” Stella said. “Let me go first.”
Otto and Alvarez set the ice chest down on the ground and swung their arms. It had become increasingly heavy as they had descended. Otto couldn’t keep his eyes off Stella’s round ass as she climbed the ladder. It took his mind off Steve.
Stella paused at the top trying to remember which way the door swung. She felt along the edges and found a slight depression. She pushed it open and stepped up so that from inside the garage she was visible from the shoulders. Automatic pistols ratcheted as soldiers chambered their rounds.
A semi-circle of SWAT types wearing FBI flak jackets surrounded her.
***