“Put it through.”
Lydia’s image replaced Raul’s. “Bad news, Jess. I can’t get you out of here until seven a.m.”
“I told you, I don’t need a private jet.”
“And you’re not getting one. The problem isn’t flying you home; it’s getting you to Edwards. Maglev trains don’t make regular pick-ups like the D.C. Metro, they have to be scheduled in advance. Enjoy your last day; I’ll come by your suite tomorrow morning at six-thirty.”
The mirror went blank, Lydia’s words hanging in the air.
Enjoy your last day…
Her heart pounded as the doorbell rang twice, the security video displaying the image of her visitor in the mirror.
Logan?
“Let him in.”
The door unbolted and the teen entered, carrying his hoverboard. “Wow, you’re actually here. I haven’t seen you literally in forever.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Logan spotted the luggage. “You going somewhere?”
“I’m heading home. I leave tomorrow morning.”
“Damn.” He slumped sideways into the recliner. “Were you even going to tell me?”
“In fact, I was just on my way to see you. Have you had dinner yet?”
“No, but I know a really cool place to eat… let me take you.”
“Okay. Do I need my hoverboard?”
“Of course.”
Jessica located the board in the hall closet and followed Logan out onto the Maglev track, the teen crossing the center pedestrian walkway to the opposite lane.
“Where are we going?”
“Elevators.” Stepping onto his board, he yanked on the power cord and idled, waiting for her to follow suit.
Jessica slipped her feet into the two straps and activated the electromagnets beneath her board, chasing after Logan.
They rode straight to the fifth-floor lobby, their presence eliciting a friendly wave from Kirsty Brunt seated behind her work station. “I heard you’ll be leaving us tomorrow. I’m so sorry to see you go.”
“No, it’s all good… flying home… can’t wait.” She waved, once more rolling the parting phrase in her mind until she mentally kneaded it into an unhealthy snack of paranoia.
The lanky teenager pressed the wall button to summon Elevator-3, the doors of which opened instantly. He stepped inside… holding his palm against the door’s rubber seal to prevent it from closing on Jessica, who entered ahead of him and took a seat—
— as Logan stepped off, offering her a quick wave before the doors sealed shut and the elevator plunged more than a mile down the vertical shaft.
Jared Betz had labored for two hours in the back of his electronics van to rig Adam’s taser until the improvised weapon functioned to the former Apache pilot’s liking. When they finally finished, the two war vets embraced and parted company.
Adam ate lunch at one of the rest stop’s fast food restaurants. He used the bathroom before making his way to the rental car parked on the south side of the parking lot. The black 2015 Ford Taurus had been paid for earlier that morning using Jared’s cousin’s credit card.
It was 4:25 p.m. by the time Adam pulled onto Interstate 294 south-bound, heading east toward Indiana.
He had lied about his destination in order to protect his friend. The address Kelly Kishel had texted to him the night before was located in southwest Michigan only two hours from the rest stop. Earlier that morning he had stopped for coffee at an Internet café, using one of the establishment’s computers to take a Google Earth view of the property and memorize the directions.
Adam did not trust the blonde Air Force intelligence officer. She had already played head games with him once and knew all the right buttons to push. He estimated his chances of walking into a trap that would end in his own execution at over eighty percent, but according to Steven Greer, he was already a dead man anyway.
“First they’ll destroy your reputation, then they’ll render you an outcast before they finally issue the orders to Terminate With Extreme Prejudice. Before this happens you need to run. Leave everything behind but the cash in your bank account; be sure to toss your cell phone and destroy your credit cards. If you have no other choice but to use your car, swap out the license plate and remove any automated toll booth devices. Stay off the grid, Mr. Under Secretary. Any form of technology will lead them right to you.”
Interstate 294 had become I-94 East by the time he had passed through Indiana and entered Michigan. Merging onto US-12, he found himself driving in a rural countryside where he backtracked north on State Route 60.
It was dusk by the time he entered the village of Cassopolis.
Situated close to Diamond Lake, one of the largest inland lakes in Michigan, Cassopolis was a typical rural Midwestern town with a population just over 2,000. Adam had eight hours until the rendezvous, and knew he needed to sleep. But before he found a safe haven to sack out, he needed to know what he was dealing with. After a few tries he managed to guess his way out of the center square of buildings and shops until he found himself on the right stretch of country road — the two-lane tarmac bordered on either side by cow pastures and surrounded with barbed-wire fencing.
Adam slowed as he approached the mailbox marking the private gravel driveway leading up to the gray-roofed, white stucco farmhouse. He knew the residence sat on ninety-three acres of farmland. A quarter mile north of the house rose a pair of silos and an immense three-story A-roofed barn which looked like it had been erected at the turn of the 19th century.
There were no lights on inside the dwelling nor were there any vehicles present — save for a rusted jalopy rotting in the weeds by a small garage adjacent to the house.
Adam continued driving, searching for potential places to leave his car when the time came. The only viable option appeared to be an old gas station located three miles down the road, a realty sign indicating the property was for sale.
Walking three miles in the new prosthetic leg was not an option.
It was 8:20 p.m. by the time he found his way back into town. He grabbed a grilled chicken sandwich from a fast food drive-thru and then went shopping for supplies at a nearby 24-hour Walmart, purchasing a navy wool blanket, a battery-powered alarm clock, several bottles of water and trail mix, two 1000-lumen tactical flashlights, a black backpack, bolt cutters, and a 5-speed bicycle which he stowed in the trunk. Backing his car into a peripheral spot away from the lighted entrance, he set the alarm clock to wake him at 11:30 p.m. and laid down in the backseat beneath the blanket, placing the loaded 9mm on the floor by his side.
36
Jessica barely managed a scream before the elevator free-fall suddenly terminated in a cushioned one-G stop.
The doors opened, revealing Joyce LaCombe. Logan’s mother wore a white lab coat and a terse smile. “We meet again. Please don’t be upset with Logan, I instructed him to send you down here.”
“Where is here?”
“A little slice of the future we call La-La Land.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“We occupy levels twelve through twenty-three which are accessible only from the bottom up.”
“Level-23?” The blood rushed from Jessica’s face, her limbs trembling.
“Now don’t freak out on me, Marulli. Come on out of there and I’ll show you—”
“No. I’ve been down here. Take me back!”
“You’ve never been down here, Jess. The colonel blasted your brain with a psychotronic device which separated your consciousness from your body. He implanted an alien abduction scenario into your subconscious that was designed to make you fear ETs.”