Hal spotted her fumbling with keys to remotely unlock her car. He raced at break-neck speed, arriving as her car pulled out from a parking space. Hal pounded on her roof. “Roll down your window! I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
She ignored him, continuing to back up. Onlookers on-looked.
“Stop the car!” Hal rattled the door handle. Locked. The back door was also locked. The car jolted to a halt. Either from her stopping it or putting it into drive without stopping. Hal knew he had about three seconds before she was gone. He raised his right fist above his left shoulder then swung his elbow hard across his body — slamming it into the window of the back door — smashing it. She tore out, chirping the tires. Hal dove through the window into the back seat.
Then sprang upright behind her, saw her phone in the charger and lunged for it. Ripping the battery out and tossing the phone and battery on the floor. He reached into his jacket like he was grabbing a gun and sat back behind her, thrusting two knuckles hard into the back of her seat.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!”
“Bullshit!” She said. “You don’t have a gun.” She tore off out of the parking lot into the street. “I’m taking you to the police!”
She drove like mad, accelerating through a residential area. Swerving around cars. Not giving him an opportunity to flee before she reached a police station.
“Alright, I don’t have a gun. I just want to talk to you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She spotted a police car stopping at a red light a block ahead.
“We’re in luck. We don’t have to go to the station.”
“You know me,” Hal said.
She glanced at him through the rear view. Confused. Panicked. Eyes flicking to the police car. She reached to her window control, approaching the cop car. Hal placed a hand on the back of her neck, sending a chill up her spine.
“Don’t. You roll the window down and I’ll snap your neck before you can even yell.” She paused — pulling her hand away from the window control.
“Just drive. Calmly. Ease up on the gas.” She did, and they glided past the police cruiser. “Good.” The young, attractive woman looked at Hal in the rear view. Her brown eyes making contact with his. “How do you know me?” He asked.
“I don’t. You were looking at me odd in the store. It creeped me out so I ran!”
“No— There was a look of recognition. You know me from somewhere. Where?”
She refused to answer. Looking straight ahead. Hal released her neck. Focusing on her through the mirror, like an archaeologist trying to dig up more memories of her deep within his mind. Hal spotted her purse on the passenger seat. He reached over the seat and grabbed it before she could. He rifled through it. Finding her wallet. Discovering her credit cards and driver’s license inside. He read it. “Jennifer Morgan. This is from Virginia.” Hal shuffled through a few credit cards and stopped on one. “Why do you have a government ID?” He glared at her. Waiting for the answer. “Again. How do you know me?”
“Please. It’s classified.” Hal found her military ID, memorizing her off-base address in Alamogordo.
“You know me,” Hal said, “and I have clearance.” He rolled the window down. “Talk or I’m throwing everything out.” She was silent. “Visa card…” He flipped it out the window.
“Asshole!”
“Master card…” Hal flung it out too. She watched it flutter to the ground and skip across the pavement through her side view mirror.
“AmEx…” Hal held it up, waiting for her to talk. Then tossed it. “Next up, military ID.”
“Alright. Stop!!” she said. “I’m Doctor Jennifer Morgan. I’m a research psychologist…”
Hal nodded for her to continue. “Pull over — into that alley.” She did and they continued down the dirt alley that separated urban yards in an older section of town. They pulled to a boarded-up house and vacant lot. “Here. Drive into the bushes.” She glanced up at him through the rear view. “To hide your car. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She pulled into the unkempt vacant lot. Decades of neglect in the form of trash, dead tumbleweeds, thick clumps of grass and large wild, shrubs cluttered the lot. “This’ll do.” They were far enough behind the shrubs that her car was unseen from the street.
Hal slid across the back seat away from her. Creating distance so she didn’t feel as threatened. Hal remembered his first flashes of her. He thought it was a fantasy then because of her beauty. It was obvious now that she wasn’t a fantasy. She was just as beautiful, but didn’t have the angelic appearance in glowing white from his dreams. “Turn the car off and keep your hands on the wheel. Where I can see them.” She followed his orders. “You were saying?” Hal asked.
“I was working for the US government on a black project. They told me if any of you tried to contact me, I was to report it immediately as a matter of national security.”
“Any of us?” Hal asked. “There are more like me involved?”
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“That’s not gonna’ cut it!” He said. “Who is ‘any of you?’ What the hell is going on and why am I having these dreams?! I’ve seen you in at least three of them! And I’ve seen a hell of a lot more — assassinations… black ops… drug cartel missions… I know I’ve killed people — against my will! And I was somehow unconscious doing it!”
“What are you talking about?” She asked, astounded.
“ENOUGH!” Hal screamed. Startling her. “Stop fucking around!!”
“I’m not!” She asserted. “I am involved in psychological experimentation ONLY! They told me you are all VOLUNTEERS!”
Hal was speechless.
“Assassinations?? What are you talking about?” She asked. “Are these in your dreams?” Hal could see that she was sincere. Her voice was calm. She was making direct eye contact. She doesn’t know.
His tone calmed. “Combat missions, mostly. And others. Drug dealer raids in foreign countries……Who knows what else?!”
She looked at him like he had cracked. “Combat missions? How do you know they aren’t hallucinations or nightmares?”
He rolled up his sleeve, showing the gash on his arm. “Is that a hallucination? I woke up with it after one of these dreams. The last time I served in actual combat was about fifteen years ago!”
Her expression was bewilderment. “As?”
“Pararescue. Air Force Special Tactics.”
“May I see your ID?” She asked.
Hal removed his military ID from his wallet, handing it over. She studied it closely. “They told me you were a chemist,” she said. “I read your file. “PhD from MIT, involved in DARPA research and a dozen classified projects. Chief Chemist in the formulation of the RAM stealth paint Iron Ball.”
Hal cracked up. “I flunked chemistry in high school! I don’t even attempt math without a calculator!” He laughed. “How could I possibly create Iron Ball?” He shook his head in disbelief. The levels of conspiracy were mind-blowing. He turned back to her. “You mentioned before that there are others like me? Who? What are their names?”
“I should really talk to my commander about this.”
“Who is he—? —You can never mention this. To anyone. If they find out we talked they’ll kill you. I know they’re watching me and I wouldn’t be surprised if they bugged your car and are sending specialists right now.”
“Specialists?? Why would they bug me?”