The Quixotic Faction: (Above Top Secret Edition) Page 24

  Beside her, St. Clair is trying to stand up. She reaches out and pats him on his shoulder. “Be a good stud, and stay right there. After I kill the admiral I will be right with you.” He vanishes. She steps back and crosses her arms. “Well that was rude.”

  Turning back to the admiral and in a sing-song tone, “Oh Admiral Kay, are you okay over there?”

  Holding the back of his head, the admiral regains his composure. “How do you know my name?”

  “Oh, I know all your names; yours, Dr. Harvey Garrett, and Dr. Lincoln Stevens. By the way, where are your sidekicks? Are they coming too?”

  “You failed to answer my question, Ms. DuFerot. How do you know our names?” the admiral says as he slowly makes his way back on his feet.

  Stopping in her tracks, she tilts her head with a curious expression as she hears her name. “Well I am impressed, although, that name is dead to me now. I’ve been given a new beginning, a new name.”

  Sirens of emergency and police vehicles interrupt her as they slow their approach to the car crash. One of the officers jumps out of one of the cars yelling, “What happened here? What is going on?”

  “He did it officer! This was his fault!” the woman screams, pointing at the admiral.

  The police scramble out of the vehicles and surround the admiral with their guns pulled.

  The lead officer begins to yell as the other officers follow suit. “Put your hands up! Get on the ground!”

  The admiral’s expression drops as he looks back at the woman who is smiling. “Oh, you got to be kidding me.”

  Eastex & Lucas Plaza,

  Beaumont, TX

  July 23, 1211 hours

  "C’mon, Lincoln, it’s safe to get up now.”

  An explosion off in the distance catches his attention, snapping his head in the direction he hears a woman scream, “Lincoln!”

  Harvey turns to see Agent Kristen Abergathy running past him. Looking around, he notices the atmosphere around them has cleared as if it was pushed aside. Catching his attention, he notices that Professor Eprem appears to be floating towards them. “Professor Eprem! Ummm, what are you doing here?”

  “Lincoln!” Kristen continues to yell.

  “He’s fine, agent. Just got the wind knocked out of him, that’s all.” Shuffling around towards the agent and his friend, he catches his breath.

  Kristen has managed to roll him over, and the break in his neck is apparent. She looks up at Harvey. “What happened? Who did this?”

  Fumbling to form a thought he turns a look at the van. Kristen watches him turn, and she notices the crumpled-up van. She jumps up and runs at the van. “Is this your fault?? hearing movement inside the van, “Who is in the van? Harvey! Did they kill Lincoln?”

  Not knowing what to say or do, tears well up as he looks from the van to his friend on the ground. He looks up at the atmosphere that is being shielded away from them; he murmurs, “This was not her fault.”

  Turning her head back to him, Kristen screams, “Her who? Who is in there Harvey?”

  “Look, it’s the atmosphere, the energy that caused this. She was not prepared for its effects.”

  A quiet voice that seems to come from everywhere interrupts them. “What is this energy?”

  For a split second they look all around to find the source of the voice before they both turn to Professor Eprem. Kristen tries one more time to open the smashed back door before falling back to Lincoln’s side. She caresses his chin as a tear lands on his headgear and trickles down the side.

  Two more explosions can be heard off in the distance. Harvey looks back over to Professor Eprem. “Starfish, I mean Lincoln, knows about this energy and is able to analyze it . . .” He looks over to his friend as something gets caught in his voice. “I mean he was able to . . . using that equipment of his . . .” Shifting his gaze to the young agent, he pleads, “Kristen, you know how his equipment works.”

  She stares back up at him in disbelief. “Your friend has been dead for a second, and you are already trying to part his life’s work from him!”

  Another explosion only a block away, causing them to turn, Harvey lets out a whistle. “That was close. Look, Agent…”

  She jumps ups and tip toes into his clear visor saying, “I can’t! It’s not right!”

  “I apologize, but you need to see the big picture. He was my friend! But the big picture is that we need you to work his equipment or more people are going to get killed . . . Professor, talk to her.”

  Professor Eprem levitates up about an inch more. “Please call me Praegressus. Professor Mildiani Eprem died in 2012.”

  Looking at his metallic, pulsating facial features, Harvey nods, saying, “I like it, you may refer to me as Beringei, and this over here is Starfish…” then gesture towards his friend and stops short. After a brief, quiet pause, another series of car-crash explosions interrupt the solemn moment. “Kristen, Praegressus talk to her tell her.”

  Praegressus lifts upwards and levitates in a controlled circle.

  “This energy, it is causing all this? Energy needs power. Control the power and you can control the energy.”

  “Are you sure you are not Captain Obvious? I’m not a student in one of your classes.”

  Watching Praegressus snap in his direction and the pulsating in his skin increase, he can begin to feel his suit registering the gravity weight increase around him. Raising his arms to surrender, he watches the professor levitate around him. “Okay, okay, don’t do the turkey trick on me. How do you suggest we control the power? Nothing short of power removal will control this energy.”

  The clouds flash all around them. Kristen lays across Lincoln to shield him as everyone else looks up. Thunder grumbles, causing her to grip tighter onto his body.

  Praegressus maneuvers closer to the ground in front of Garrett. “What is your suit made of?”

  “What does that have to do with anything. We need to get Lincoln back to the farm.”

  “Agent Abergathy and I, will see to Dr. Stevens, right now we need to cut off the power to the energy. You need to focus, what is your suit made of?”

  Surveying the energy crackling around them and then looking back at the crumpled van, the suit straightens up as he looks over to the professor, “It is my creation of tungsten carbide and trisodium dodecarbonyl infused steel. I created it to withstand extreme gravitational pressure.”

  Raising a hand, Praegressus stops him. “Are you positive?”

  “Of course, I’m positive. I created it.”

  Praegressus looks up in the sky at the clouds and the strange atmosphere that surrounds them. “That’s not what I am asking.”

  A lightning streak lights up across the clouds, and seconds later another deafening rumble follows it. Staring up in awe, his expression drops with realization as he looks back at the professor. “Oh, you got to be kidding me.”

  I-10 Frontage Road,

  Beaumont, TX

  July 23, 1219 hours

  "Get down on the ground!”

  “Face down!”

  Officers are yelling and side stepping with their guns drawn to circle Admiral Kay.

  Closing his eyes, the admiral shakes his head while slowly raising his arms. When his arms reach out from his sides a steady mist shoots out towards the police officers. Some of the officers closer to the icy streams shake their heads as if to clear out cobwebs.

  The admiral circles and continues to spread out the icy mist. More officers are shaking the cobwebs from their minds and begin to lower their weapons.

  Astonished, the woman thumbs at the phone attached to her suit. “That is so not fair. I have an answer for that.” An energy pulse emits from her suit and causes everyone to stumble.

  The lead officer firms his grip on his 9mm. “What the hell are you doing here!”

  Regaining their balance, the other officers join in yelling orders.

  “Get on the ground!”

  “Hands behind your back!”

  The admiral
looks at the lead officer and tries to explain, “Officer, this is a misunderstanding. Everything that is going on around us is being generated by…” With a quick movement, he points at the woman and a high-pressure stream hits the woman in the shoulder. Ice forms on and around her shoulder as she drops to the asphalt.

  The lead officer yells, “Stop!” and fires his weapon, hitting the admiral in the shoulder of his extended right arm. The admiral spins to the asphalt just as another officer fires his gun, hitting the admiral in his lower, left abdomen. Blood sprays across the ground as the admiral curls in a fetal position.

  The woman stands back up, trying to work her shoulder to loosen the ice from it. Two of the younger officers make their way to her when the sky lights up. Everyone stops to look up and see a giant ball of lightning heading in their direction. The officers scramble and run; some hit the deck and shield their heads.

  The woman watches the lightning ball. As it gets closer she can make out something or someone screaming, coming from inside the lightning ball. Then she realizes that it is Dr. Garrett.

  Mumbling to herself, “What are you doing, doctor?”

  Before she can figure where the lightning ball is landing, it hits with an explosion. Less than a mile away sparks and fireworks fill the sky around where it landed. The lightning bolt returns to the clouds, leaving behind its courier. Without warning the atmosphere starts imploding in no discernable direction. Deafening popping sounds of the implosions cause her and the remaining police officers to cover their ears.

  * * *

  Harvey unclenches his eyes. His suit circuitry is fried, he is unable to move. Hearing the implosions, he watches the atmosphere clear up. Just as the atmosphere goes back to normal the rain falls, as if catching up for old times. With zero visibility due to the rain on his helmet and the lightning frying his suit, he shakes his head.

  “Great, just great. This better have helped the admiral.”

  * * *

  At the television station, the remaining officers are trying to maintain their footing in the high winds and sheets of rain. In the middle of the television parking lot a localized green hue develops. Despite the low visibility, one of the officers tries to focus on the anomaly, and as soon as Agent St. Clair materializes, the officer throws himself back against his vehicle.

  Drawing his 9mm at the giant agent, the officer struggles against the wind. “Where’d you come from? What the hell are you?”

  Standing up from a crouched position, He reaches in his jacket and takes out a badge and walks purposely to the officer. “FBI! We appreciate your help here today, but you and your men are going to have to clear the premise. I will deal with this gentleman.”

  Pausing to scrutinize the badge, the officer gives him a suspicious look before turning towards two other remaining officers. “C’mon! We need to head back and regroup.” The two other officers get in and the car heads towards the I-10 Frontage Road.

  Watching them leave, St. Clair turns to see, Dorothy DuFerot, getting in her Cadillac and driving off. “Rahtid!”

  Turning his attention to the admiral curled up on the asphalt. Running to his side he looks down at his immobile body. “Mi sarie, Admiral.”

  The admiral shifts to turn his face away from the torrent of rain, mumbling, “Will you speak English, Sailor.”

  St. Clair drops to his knee and rolls the admiral over, shielding his eyes. “Admiral, you’re still wit us.” He notices that the admiral’s right shoulder and left side are completely iced over. “If this was not so serious it would be cool, I can see the blood, even through your ice.”

  Shifting his position into a squatting position, St. Clair places his right hand over the ice on the shoulder. Closing his eyes to concentrate, his hand begins to phase out, passing into and through the shoulder, taking out the bullet that was lodged in the corner of his shoulder blade.

  The admiral’s eyes open wide. “Okay, that felt weird.”

  Ignoring him, he shifts position to get to the admiral’s left side. Phasing his hand through his side, he says, “Looks like that one was a through and through.”

  “When this is over you are really going to have to explain your so-called condition to me.”

  Bose Lakeside home,

  Jasper, TX

  July 25, 1305 hours

  Removing the electronic neoprene suit, her body revels in that it can now relax and breathe. The suit was so tight she was unable to wear anything underneath it, leaving stitching impressions all over her body. Still it was good to be home. Not bothering to put anything on, she flops down in her recliner as the swamp cooler blows on high causing her entire body to goose up.

  Enjoying the feeling, Dorothy closes her eyes and smiles, “That was interesting.” Her mind drifts, recalling the past month and trying to imagine how she got so lucky. Her thoughts quickly float into oblivion.

  The darkness creeps in, even the furthest corners of her mind become enveloped. Within the darkness, large black glass almonds form into shape. A feeling of being lifted in bliss washes over her as the almonds shimmer images of her memories off of their surfaces. Photos of the bank flicker in fast forward. Images of the conversation with the police officer when he gave her directions pauses and slows down. The flickering speeds up at lightning speed until she is looking at a large good-looking man, the man is struggling with something then disappears. The photos flicker again as they come to a stop at the image of Admiral Julian Kay getting shot by the police officers. The glass almonds shimmer into the darkness as the darkness retreats letting oblivion return.

  Deserted Farm,

  Dry Creek, LA

  July 30, 0853 hours

  "NO! Not happening!”

  “Harvey! C’mon mon.”

  “Little John, it’s not happening. It’s taken me years to build it. I’m not just going to let some men in black reverse technology my suit.”

  Harvey storms out of the farmhouse, before the door can close, Agent St. Clair is right behind him. “Harv, stop. Look mon, I know, tey know it is yours and yours only. In order to get what you need, you need to work with these guys. The resources tey have is unimaginable.”

  “I can imagine them going nowhere near my suit!” Harvey stops just short of running into the blue SUV’s crowding the dirt clearing in front of the house. He kicks the dirt out of frustration sending murders of crow cawing into the air. Causing him to duck and shield himself. “I really hate those birds. Little John, we’ve already been through this. I got caught up in my comic book world as Lincoln would put it and now he’s dead and the admiral was almost killed.”

  “I know, but I can’t stop this woman by myself. With Flea gone I need your help. I need you to work with them to get your suit back up,”

  “Dr. Garret, I assure you complete confidentiality.”

  Harvey turns to see one of the technicians standing behind St. Clair. “Look, whatever your name is again. My friend was just killed, another was shot, and now you want me to just open up my suit, my life’s work, to a complete stranger. No offense, but this has been a long week.” He looks around as more crows make their way into the cornfield. “I don’t even have any patents on my project.”

  “Doctor, I know. If you did, I would already have the schematics and we would be fixing it…”

  St. Clair puts his arm out stopping the technician. “I told you tey have resources. We don’t have time. That quashie needs to be stopped.”

  “I just wanted to be the first to walk on an alien planet. I’ve had to keep my work hidden from these guys so that it’s not exploited.”

  “Doctor, if I understand the concept of your suit. I would think you would have immeasurable strength when you wore the suit, with only Earth’s gravity to hold you back. The inlay design is impressive.”

  Harvey snaps in his direction. Pursing his lips together, he rubs his chin. “Yeah.”

  “We can help. Under your supervision and lead, we can get you back to leaping over tall buildings in a single boun
d.”

  * * *

  Lying on the couch in the living room, Admiral Julian Kay has his arm and shoulder slung and bandages wrapped around his waist. Forcing himself to a sitting position as Director Harris comes in from the kitchen with a glass of ice water. “Admiral, you should not be sitting up.”

  “I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things. Going head first into situations without a full intel or preparation would be top on the list.”

  “I know, this past month has been nothing but curveballs, sending untrained and unprepared agents into the field is not a good trait for a director.” He sets the glass down in front of the admiral.

  “Director, what are you the director of?”

  Chuckling, he smiles, “Excellent beginning to a conversation. I am the director of aeronautical and atmospheric studies.”

  “Impressive, but who do you work for?”

  “I’m not sure I understand the question?”

  Wincing, he reaches for the glass, “I know you don’t work for the government, the SUV’s you pulled up in don’t have government plates. Yet your agents move as if they have had extensive military training. You appear to have private money with government ties. I am asking again, who do you work for? Thank you for the water.”

  Walking to the front wall, the director looks out at Harvey and St. Clair. “Now you have me in a difficult spot. You’re welcome.”

  “I am getting the feeling that we are in the middle of fighting your battle, I need to know what side and who I am or rather we are fighting for.”

  Taking in a deep breath, the director stretches his arms out and puts them on top of his head. “I…what makes you think we are in a battle?”

  “Agent St. Clair and Agent Nomi, they appear to be straight forward, without ulterior motives. The other two, a tall red head and a shorter man, possibly eastern European descent, there’s something about them. They all move like they have had the same or similar training.”