Dale’s heart skipped a beat. “No way. I can’t kill The Old Man. That’s treason. Not to mention just plain wrong.”
“Dale, it’s going to happen. This will remain a secret. There are only two ways this goes down. People are going to keep their secrets, or they are going to die. You are either with us or against us. You do this, or you end up on a list that you don’t want to be on.”
Dale sighed in defeat, he knew the General was serious and probably right about the list. “Yes Sir.”
“So, you want to join the Air Force, son?”
“Sir, Yes Sir,” Dale mustered, with false confidence.
“Good, Glad to hear it. In the meantime, I will make arrangements for you to be on a flight to Germany. Dismissed.”
Dale went back to the barracks; it seemed even hotter now. Sweat poured from his brow as he sat before the small wooden desk near his rack. He opened his brand-new leather journal. The first clean, blank page stared at him. Dale began to write, his sweaty hand sticking to the papers.
THE END
POSTSCRIPT
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read my first book. I hope you enjoyed it. As I am penning this final note, I have started working on a sequel to
Lost in Magadan
. The sequel begins only days after Snap and his team complete their mission and return home. The following is a brief excerpt from the upcoming sequel.
Respectfully,
William Lee
December 19, 1945
Bad Nauheim, Germany
Six months earlier, the Germans had surrendered to the allies. German cities were little more than hollow shells, and piles of rubble. The Americans, French, and Russians were overseeing the post-war reconstruction effort, and rounding up Nazi war criminals. Thousands of Germans were still homeless, hungry, and out of work. The Nuremberg trials had started at the end of the summer and were on going. Thousands of American troops still occupied the Germanic lands, while politicians and generals toured the remains of the former Nazi military machine.
The newly forming military-industrial-complex was circling the wagons and consolidating their power base. Secrecy was to be their weapon of choice. The alien technology discovered deep in the Nazi underground bunkers was alarming. Had the war gone on much longer, it was feared that Hitler may have been able to shift the tide in his favor with his quickly developing futuristic weapons. The newly discovered alien technology had to be kept a secret, and anyone threating that objective had to be eliminated.
Dale Matthews woke in in the early morning hours, the other men in the barracks were just now starting to get up. He was shivered from the cold, not wanting to begin his day, knowing it was even colder outside. It had been nearly a year since he came face-to-face with the large, gray alien in France. Feelings of guilt washed over him as he remembered how every other man in his squad was killed by the seven-foot-tall creatures. His feet touched the cold floor boards and he wanted to crawl back into bed.
Heading towards the showers, he thought of the terrible assignment he had been given. He had never murdered a person in cold blood. He had killed dozens of Nazis during the war, but that was different, they were pointing rifles at him. It was kill or be killed. Ever since he reported his encounter with the Large Grays, the Army had not known what to do with him. Until recently. The Army was coving its tracks, closing ranks. The Large Gray’s involvement in the great war would remain a secret. Anyone brave enough to discuss alien technology with the public was to be silenced.
Dale Matthews was in a unique position, being the only person to ever survive hand-to-hand combat against a Large Gray, the Army would prefer not to silence him. But there was a steep price for his continued existence, he must help silence those that advocated for disclosure. Too many people witnessed the alien artifacts left by the fleeing Germans. Those that would not honor their confidentiality agreements would be dealt with harshly. That’s where Dale came in.
The ice-cold water flowed over Dale’s skin, he shivered. Others were slowly meandering into the open shower stall. Dale was assigned to the Army’s 15th Battalion in Bad Nauheim, his role was to assist with documenting the reconstruction, a boring desk job. He wished that was his only job. Unfortunately, the desk job was only a cover for his real assignment, which was to eliminate those that may disclose secrets regarding alien technology. Those forming the new ‘military industrial complex’ as General Ryan Bartlett had called it, had a lot of power and influence.
As Dale dressed in his olive, drab uniform, he felt at ease, today was going to be uneventful, just passing time reviewing paperwork at his desk. No planning of assassinations or killing misguided loose-lipped soldiers. He was going to kill a VIP a few days earlier, it was supposed to look like a hunting accident. He was surprised by how deep the conspiracy went and how many people were involved, it was almost impressive. Dale had been given no time to plan or prepare, he was only given a few hours heads up.
Dale went to the location where the men were to be hunting, and waited in the freezing cold. The ground was wet and muddy, and snow was beginning to fall. Dale waited for the sixty-year-old General to arrive with his hunting party. When he asked his contact why he was given such short notice, the man said the hunting trip was just planned the night before. Dale waited on a ridge, among a stand of trees; he had no idea how they knew the General would stop here. Dale had an escape route planned, but he had no idea if it would work. He remembered that his stomach was turning over in knots, he threw up twice that morning. What if he failed to take the shot? What if he missed? Would he then be on that unenviable list?
Dale waited hours for the General to appear. His feet were wet and frozen. The time for them to arrive came and went. He waited another two hours, still no General. Eventually, a very relieved Dale got back on his Army motorcycle and drove back to headquarters. Later that day, he found out that the General had been in a freak car accident and was paralyzed from the neck down. He felt bad that he was relieved the man had been injured in a car accident; for one more day, he would not carry the guilt of being a murderer.
A few days ago, his contact told him not to worry about killing the General because it looked like he was going to succumb to his injuries. Dale’s spirts were rising, he hoped he could avoid murdering innocent people, maybe his bosses could find another task for him. He had been in Bad Nauheim for over a month now, planning the General’s demise. During the last month, he had met an Army nurse, and they had hit it off. Elizabeth was from Bedford, Virginia and they had spent almost every evening talking about their futures. Of course, he had not mentioned his encounters with extraterritorial or his emerging career as a government hitman.
An hour before noon, Dale left his desk and stepped outside into the blistering cold to smoke a cigarette. Half-way through his smoke break, an officer, wearing a heavy trench coat, approached him. He did not recognize the officer as he walked directly towards him. Dale snapped to attention and gave a salute when he realized it was a Colonel that was standing before him.
“At ease soldier,” the Colonel said, vapor forming in the air as he spoke. “Sergeant Matthews, I presume?” The Colonel was of average height with a muscular build, his face wore the signs of many sleepless nights. Dale suspected that he had earned his wings the hard way, and was capable of handling himself in any situation.