CHAPTER 3
The hours appeared to fade into obscurity as the four strangers sat in torturing solitude, quietly plotting their next interactions with one another. The air was stale. A lingering sense of indifference only added to the awkwardness of the situation. No one wanted to speak first. The silence was taking its toll, especially for the older man. He was still trying to make eye contact with the others. He sat up and produced the red card from his pocket. He gave it a good look. The fine print on the reverse side of the card offered a series of protocols for an emergency situation.
YOU ARE INVOLUNTARY ACTIVATED AS A SECURITY CAPTAIN (“SC”) THROUGHOUT THE DURATION OF THIS EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN.
THIS CARD MUST STAY IN YOUR POSSESSION UNTIL YOU ARE DEACTIVATED BY YOUR NORMAL REPORTING CO OR A CLEARED SUPERVISOR.
AS SC, YOU MUST MAINTAIN ALL NATIONAL SECURITY AND CONFIDENTIALITY PROCEDURES DURING YOUR ASSIGNMENT AND MUST CONTAIN ALL OTHER PARTIES IN YOUR GROUP IN THE DROP-OFF AREA UNTIL FURTHER CLEARED.
SECURITY POLICE WILL SECURE YOUR DROP-OFF AREA ONCE THE BASE HAS BEEN CLEARED THROUGH BASE COMMAND OPERATIONS. AT THAT TIME, YOU WILL RELINQUISH YOUR DUTY AS SECURITY CAPTAIN AND TURN OVER THIS CARD TO YOUR ACTING CO OR SUPERVISOR.
The older man finished reading the card with a sense of purpose. He took a great deal of pride in his assignment, and he carried the card like a swagger stick. He flipped the card in his fingers. The sound was enough to capture the young man’s attention. He gawked toward the older man and sighed heavily. The older man smirked. It was a way to break the silence. He looked back toward the younger man. “You new around here? I’ve never seen you before.”
The younger man ignored the comment and stood up, slowly taking a seat on top of an old desk near the corner of the room.
Hanna fixated on the card with intrigue. It was hard to avoid. The older man was taunting the room with it like a child with a new toy. “What is that?” she asked.
“It means I’m the security captain right now,” he replied with slight arrogance. “Only one of us gets to be the captain, and it looks as if they chose me this round,” he continued with a snicker.
The younger man shrugged off the comment and stood up from the desk. He stepped toward a small shelf cluttered with first-aid supplies and military rations. He began rummaging through the objects, aiming to be even more obnoxious than the older man with the card. He angled his back away from the others and spoke with a heavy Slovak accent. “We’ve been here three hours.”
The older man perked up at the younger man’s voice. It was the first time any of them had heard him speak. The older man smirked. “Two and a half.”
Hanna pondered and watched the tense exchange.
The older man returned to the red card that floated through his fingers as if he were a magician. Hanna adjusted herself and looked over to the younger man for a response. Both men apparently were alphas, and neither seemed to be the type to take orders well. They both had something to prove. She feared the tight space would only fuel the conflict.
The younger man remained focused on the supplies. Hanna watched on, choosing her next words carefully. The situation was becoming more hostile. The tone needed to be lightened. “How long do we have to stay in this place?” she asked the older man with the red card.
“As long as it takes,” he replied swiftly.
His answer wasn’t enough to satisfy, but anything further on the subject would most certainly create more tension. Hanna sat back in her chair. I’ll need another approach. Her next move would assert her position in the room. She needed to act, but it needed to be smart. She quickly stood up and stepped toward the older man with a confident sway. “Look. You gotta give us something. We’ve been here a long time. At some point, we’ll need to use a restroom,” Hanna pleaded diplomatically.
The older man angled back to his red plastic card and sighed with almost scripted frustration. “You know how many of these I’ve been in, Miss…” he boastfully replied as his voice trailed off.
“Hanna. My name is Stacy Hanna,” she replied quickly.
The older man shrugged her off and stood up, clasping his tired knees for support as he made the arduous climb back to his feet. Hanna was tall, but he seemed to look down upon her regardless. “You gotta stop asking so many damn questions. It’s against protocol.”
Hanna stood back and took in the comment. This guy is going to be tough to break. Her plan of intervention had failed. The older man was clearly in charge, and maneuvering around him would take more time. She quietly retreated to the office chair that the older man had just forfeited. The chair looked dangerous to sit in, especially after hosting the man’s weight for the past hour, but it was better than sitting on the hard floor.
The older man hobbled toward the first lieutenant with a patronizing glare. She was sitting on the floor in the corner. She deflected her line of sight, trying to avoid the conversation.
The large man stopped a few feet away, towering over her like a monster. He stared down with a smirk. His silence only seemed to accentuate the creepiness of the moment. “How you holding up, LT?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied with a self-convincing shoulder shrug.
The woman’s body movements suggested she was trying to avoid a conversation.
“You asthmatic or something? All that coughing you’ve been doing. It could be the anesthetics,” he persistently continued.
The young lieutenant replied with a slight shake of her head. “I’m just nauseous.”
From across the room, Hanna observed the conversation with intrigue. How did this woman become an officer? The lieutenant was clearly not wanting to take any level of leadership or engage in a conversation with strangers. She recoiled and sank back into her dark corner, attempting to vanish from sight. Something seemed interesting about these two. They have a history, Hanna thought.
“Wait a minute. Where do I know you from?” the older man pressed the lieutenant. “You look familiar.”
The woman sighed and pushed back farther from the man. He was stepping closer to her with each breath. She couldn’t escape. Then the man narrowed his eyes with realization. “Ah, special projects. Yeah, we worked together about a year ago on the drone program at Creech. You remember?”
“Gail Sullivan,” the lieutenant responded quickly.
She hated this moment and just wanted him to stop. Her shortness in the conversation only seemed to instigate the man even more. He was trying to get at something.
Despite her apparent body language, he continued. “They still got you here? I’d think they would have sent you back to Nellis by now.”
Gail looked off with a sense of discouragement.
Hanna sat up in the chair intently. Nellis? That’s where they send the fuckups. She watched the exchange across the room as if it were a soccer match. Something about the man’s words was correct. Military culture was difficult as it was, but being a woman in a commanding position was impossible for most to overcome. Maybe pride had Gail Sullivan shackled to the job. Whatever it was, she certainly didn’t want to talk about it with the older man. Nellis was the base outside of Las Vegas they sent career officers like Gail Sullivan to debrief and retrain for special projects at Area 51 and the neighboring Creech Air Force Base. The older man’s question seemed to imply something. She must have fucked up.
The man sighed with a smirk. “Russell Turner, civilian services. My team does the payroll for special projects.” He offered her his hand.