July 2021
The Delta flight from Richmond, Virginia on final approach to Boston Logan Airport in Boston, Massachusetts, banked to the left then straightened up. Sitting on row 24 in the window seat, Richard Grady Thompson (Grady to his friends) watched the landscape below grow in detail as they descended. Ever since last Tuesday he had been wondering if this was a joke. He kept saying it couldn’t be real. There was no way some physics research facility in Vermont wanted to interview him, a high school physics teacher with a less than stellar GPA from college.
It made it all come back to him, the frustration and disappointment his last year of college had been at the University of Colorado. The first three years were good, with him excelling at his course work, weekends, then summers hiking in the Rocky Mountains, taking a trip to Yellowstone, then down to the Grand Canyon. But in that last year, in his most important class he had written that paper, the one he had pushed the boundaries of conventional thinking. His professor had not only been critical, acted as if it were an affront to physics research. He had been so upset by his professor’s response, he screwed up on another exam the next morning.
A 2.0 grade on the paper and a 3.1 on the exam. It hit his GPA hard, moved him down within his class. Suddenly, he wasn’t one to be recruited but someone who had to search out a job. He had found the high school teaching position through a friend after so many days of empty emails and mailbox after sending out numerous resumes. For two years he had taught physics finding himself falling into a routine that left him frustrated. He knew some loved teaching, opening young minds to new ideas, but for him, he saw himself in research, running calculations that took up multiple dry erase boards. He wasn’t outgoing, someone who loved the idea of being a teacher, but necessity forced him to overcome his personality and stand before one class after the next, five classes a day with one period to grade papers and do preparations for future classes. And there was the time at home during the evenings grading more papers and doing more preparation. By the time he finished, some nights he just went to bed without dinner.
The plane landed and quickly pulled to the gate. As everyone pulled a bag from the overhead compartment, Grady let the man from the row’s aisle seat had him his overnight bag. He had kept his portfolio in hand along with the latest New Scientist magazine. He was going to read it on the flight but found himself lost in thought leaving the magazine untouched within the envelope with his portfolio. As he made his way down the narrow aisle, up the gate chute, and into the terminal, he wondered what it would be like to live in the region. It was further north than he had ever lived. Vermont seemed so far north as to be close to the artic circle to his way of thinking.
Moving along the terminal, he wondered about the personal life that could be afforded him in the region. Not that he took advantage of the opportunities in Richmond, rarely going to one of the bars or restaurants that catered to gay men. He had dated a couple of guys, but it seemed more out of desperation, something he was supposed to do, for his life was passing him by, rather than any serious attraction to either of them. It seemed wrong to think of it, but he could leave Richmond and only his four friends would miss him. But the four of them that knew he was unhappy, and this interview had the promise of opportunity he had hoped to have at graduation. He was twenty-four years old and felt adrift. But as he made his way out the doors of the arrival area, he smiled for the first time since waking. Maybe this was too good to be true, but he had the thrill of the possibility and for the next hour or so, would enjoy the feeling.
The center was sending a car to pick him up and he looked down the sidewalk at the circus of cars, trucks, SUVs, vans, and buses fighting for access to the curb. He scanned the vehicles wondering what he should be looking for, a van or some big black sedan. Suddenly he saw a vehicle he knew had not been released yet. It was still in preproduction, or so he thought. It was a Rivian RS1 in a dark grey color. It captured his attention, as well as a few others along the sidewalk, but he didn’t notice the passenger window lowering as it pulled up along side the car parked at the curb in front of him.
“Richard Thompson? Richard Grady Thompson?” the driver yelled out.
“Yeah…that’s me,” Grady responded at the sound of his full name, realizing it was the driver.
“I’m with the Murray Orion Center.”
“Of course, you are,” Grady whispered as he moved around the parked car, set his bag and portfolio in the back seat, and climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’m Isaac,” the driver said holding out a hand.
“Grady,” as he shook the offered hand feeling the strength of the grip, then he noticed Isaac’s build. The polo stretched tight over a muscular upper body, and he realized Isaac looked more like a security guard than a driver, and he wondered about the center and what kind research they were doing.
Grady stood at the window overlooking the valley below still in shock. The pre-production SUV was one thing, but the sight of the center, with all the glass and white paneled walls, was something from a Sci-Fi flick, and he wondered if one of the action-hero movies had ever used it as a backdrop, then he wondered if anyone other than locals knew of it. He had never heard of the place until they reached out to him. He turned and looked across the room. For all the slick modern finishes, and the modern furniture of the lobby area, this room had a completely different atmosphere. A wood table that had to be handmade dominated the center of the room, and not even the modern office chairs lining each side could detract from its presence. Along one wall, a side table that matched the look and detailing. He moved to the conference table and ran his hand along the naturally undulating edge.
“You like the table? It’s a Nakashima piece,” said the man coming into the room. He looked only slightly older. A tall, lean build with dark red hair. “I’m Duncan McIntyre, and Corbett will be here shortly. He is tied up on a phone call.”
“Are you sure you have the right person,” Grady blurted out, shocked to say aloud what he was thinking. He felt his face flush hot, knowing it had to be beet red.
Duncan laughed, then gestured to a seat.
“Let’s wait until Corbett gets here and we can talk. In the meantime, can we get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” Grady replied as he eased into a chair opposite Duncan.
“The flight up, okay?”
“Yes, and the drive was…can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“The vehicle you sent for me. It’s a Rivian, but that SUV isn’t on the market.”
“And how does our center have one? We did a small favor for them and they in turn let us have a pre-production model. We drive it around working out any bugs for them.”
“I see. And this place? I’ve not heard of it until you contacted me.”
“We’re a small player in the scientific community, doing limited research.”
“Small? This place is…and you’re self-financed?”
“Yes.”
Grady found himself at a loss for words on when the door swung open. A young man walked in, tall and lean like Duncan, only with black hair. Grady began to stand to introduce himself, assuming this was Corbett.
“Sit, sit, don’t get up. I’m Corbett Bentley and I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It’s not a problem, I’m just glad to be here.”
“I’m sure you’re wondering why we contacted you,” said Corbett as he sat next to Duncan. “What have you guys talked about?” Corbett laid a large envelope on the table and sat back.
“Not much,” Duncan replied.
“Well, let’s get to it, shall we?”
Corbett picked up the envelope, slid out a stack of paper with something typed on it. He slid it across the table so Grady could reach it. Even as he pulled it over and in front of him, he knew it was that controversial paper from college.
“I don’t understand; how? I mean, why do you have this?”
“We’re pushing boundaries here. Looking at theories and hypotheses that some scientists will, quite frankly, dismiss out of hand. There are ideas we’re exploring, and this paper by you, two years ago, explored some of the same ideas.”
“Seriously?”
Corbett nodded as Duncan just sat back and smiled.
“And you want to hire me?”
“Yes,” Corbett replied, then looking over at Duncan, he added, “have you given him our proposal?”
“Not yet,” Duncan replied, then he pulled a folded page from an inside coat pocket and slid it across the table.
Grady reached with shaking hands, slid the folded paper closer, and picked it up. He unfolded it and began to read. The position was perfect, too perfect, then there was the proposed salary. He grew wide-eyed and nearly choked. He folded the paper and laid it down.
“And what do I have to do to accept this offer?”
“Just say yes, Grady,” said Duncan, leaning forward, resting elbows on the table. “Just say yes and let us know how soon you can start. We assume you’re on summer break from teaching.”
“Yes, and I can turn in a notice to the school board immediately and…and I can be packed up pretty quickly and be here in…”
“Grady,” Corbett uttered, and Grady fell silent. “There is no need to burden yourself with rushing. We want you here as soon as you can get here, but we’re not on the clock with this.”
“Yes, of course.”
“How long do you need? Realistically?”
“I think the worst thing for me to do is break my lease at my apartment. Otherwise, it is simply packing up and driving up. I could be back in two weeks.”
“Okay. Plan on taking a week when you get back to get settled before coming in to start work. Give Sharon at the front desk your apartment information and we’ll handle the lease, with your permission, of course?” asked Corbett.
“If you can handle that ownership, then I’ll gladly let you do it.”
“I think we can take care of it. You’ll need an apartment, and we have built a small complex just north of here. We can set you up and it is yours until you decide to buy something nearby or move on to another company,” said Duncan.
“If you can give us a letter of intent, we would be all set. There is a laptop on the side table you can use. Just put the letter in the folder labeled “Unsecure” and we’ll process it from this side,” Corbett added.
“It is nearing noon; shall we go for lunch somewhere and get to know each other?” asked Duncan as he climbed to his feet.
“I’ll call Isaac and have him bring our car around,” said Corbett. “Then we can come back and give you a tour of the place and introduce you to the others.”
August 2021
Grady had been working two weeks and still felt like he should pinch himself to make sure it was real. He had found himself in a room with the four others he had met during his interview. Two men and two women, all older and looking more confident. But he found himself forgetting his fears, an anxiety of being the new person, when his paper was brought up on one monitor and next to it, a computer model of the dimensional space his theory was based upon. It was the way everyone gathered around him, asking legitimate questions, inquiring if he had considered alternate details of his hypothesis. There was a dry erase board running along one long wall covered in calculations and on the other large monitors next to the ones he was standing in front were running other models.
The two weeks passed quickly, with him working side by side with the others, debating aspects of different theories. He had postulated that there were not only universes in their cosmos, bubbles of universes within the void, like the holes in Swiss cheese as some others had put forth, but there could be alternate universes, true parallel or polar-opposite universes that exist in another dimensional space, one that they may one day be able to open a gateway.
Leaving the building, Grady had decided to have lunch down in Brattleboro that sat on the Connecticut River with New Hampshire on the other side. Frank and Johanna were in Geneva to hear Susskind and Gross on their latest theories, while Carlo was in Colorado rock climbing, and Da xia was back in China visiting relatives. It left him with little to do except explore his theory without the input from the others. He had been doing calculations all morning until his brain was mush and he desperately needed to get away from it.
Strolling out to the parking lot, he approached the white Polestar 2, still not sure he believed it was his car. It had been embarrassing when he drove into the dealership last week in his ten-year-old Honda Civic. But as soon as they saw his current employer, they had treated him as royalty. Having five other employees with one of the Polestar models had no doubt an effect on the sales staff.
He climbed in and was soon on his way. In the passenger seat a novel about two guys finding each other despite the odds. He hoped it spurned him into action, for he had yet to look for a gay bar, browse the online sites, or flirt a bit with some guy he made eye contact when at the grocery store in Brattleboro or at the department store in Keene. He was horny and in need of some companionship, even if it were for only a night. He could go over to Boston for the weekend where he knew there was an active gay scene.
Grady drove into Brattleboro on Highway 9, not turning until he had come to its end on Main Street. He drove south a block, then turned back to the west and looked for a place to park.
Book in hand, Grady strolled back to Main Street to a little café Johana and Da xia had recommended. It was after one, so the café wasn’t busy, and he entered its cool interior and took a seat at a table along the side wall. He looked around the small dining room, admiring the artwork on the walls and the décor itself. Then his eyes fell on one of the waiters. He watched him cross the dining room to the opposite wall, lay a check down then turn and head his way. He turned to his book hoping the guy didn’t notice him staring.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Water.”
“I’ll be right back with that and take your order if you’re ready,” the waiter replied, then moved to the wait station behind a counter. Grady watched him, studied him, sized him up before the guy had time to turn around and head back.
He looked a little taller than his own five foot ten and about one hundred sixty pounds with dirty blonde hair and when the guy arrived back at his table with a glass of water, he saw the eyes were blue, and when the guy smiled, dimples formed on each side of his mouth.
“What can I get you?” the waiter asked.
“I…huh…don’t’ know yet.”
The waiter smiled. “I’ll come back.”
After browsing the menu and the waiter, taking far too long, Grady finally motioned him to come back over. He ordered, handed the menu back, and watched him disappear into the kitchen. Without the distraction, he slid his novel over, opened it to the marked page and began to read.
Grady sat reading, turning page after page, as the story grew intense between the two male characters. His plate had long since been cleared away, his water glass refilled once again, as he became the last diner for lunch. The music was turned up as the waiter and waitress busied themselves with tasks behind the counter. Unnoticed by Grady, minutes ticked by until he had been at the café for almost ninety minutes. A shadow passed over his book and he looked up to see the waiter standing by his table.
“Is there anything I can get you?”
“Just the check. I should be getting back to work,” Grady replied.
“Here’s the check. Where do you work if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The Murray Orion Center.”
“Seriously? You work there? What do you do?”
“Theoretical physics.”
“Must be interesting. I understand they also do archeological digs.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure what is involved in that research. They have one wing of the building, and we have the other. Here’s my card,” said Grady laying his credit card on the check.
The waiter hesitated as if he wanted to ask something else, then he picked up the check and card, and headed back to the counter to process it. Grady watched him until afraid of being caught staring, then he picked up his phone to see if any messages had arrived in his email account.
It was midafternoon, and Grady was alone in the brainstorming room going over a calculation that Johanna and Carlos had been arguing over just before they left on their trips. He kept going to one section that seemed wrong but why he didn’t know, so he left it alone for now, proceeding further along the calculation. He didn’t hear the door open or the soft footfalls of someone approaching.
“You looked stumped,” said Duncan as he came up next to Grady.
“Oh, Duncan, yes, I am. There is something off, but I can’t figure it out. I just…”
“Sense it?”
“I know how that sounds.”
“But its true and I understand. It is that feeling we get sometimes right before we make a breakthrough or find out we’re totally off base.”
“I hope it’s not the latter.”
“What seems wrong?”
“The calculations can support other dimensions, but we’re trying to find a way to access one of them. We have access to three dimensions of our space/time but not any of the others. There should be a way to do so.”
“Maybe they’re too small?” Duncan replied, knowing he was not being honest. The day would come, and he feared sooner rather than later, when Corbett and he had to tell them what it was all about. The physics research and the archeological digs for certain relics.
“Maybe…maybe not,” Grady uttered after a few seconds while staring at the dry erase board.
Duncan liked the intensity of Grady, this determination to find the missing piece, but he also knew too much of this pushing one to find answers could lead to an endless loop of failure. He leaned against one of the desks and watched the model for empty space, the undulations within it and knew somewhere in there was an answer. He turned to Grady and saw him staring at one section of the calculation, erasure in hand ready to strike out at the section that troubled him, if only he knew why and what the solution had to be.
“Today is Wednesday, why don’t you spend tomorrow morning getting your notes organized and shoot Corbett and me a report, then take the rest of the day and Friday off. I know you’ve been working hard since arriving and think you may need a little personal time.”
“Really?”
“We all need to charge our batteries from time to time. Corbett and I are flying out for Colorado for a few days. He’s not seen his parents for a few months and there’s some old research his mom had been involved in which he wants to ask about.”
“Maybe I’ll just drive down to Boston and check out the city.”
“You’ve never been to Boston before?”
“Just the airport,” Grady replied, smiling at the fact he had only been through the airport when coming to the facility.
“Go down and talk to Sharon about a hotel room. We get discounts at a couple of them in downtown. Tell her to get you reservations at that boutique hotel in the neighborhood with all the brownstones. I can’t remember the name of it, but it is the best place to stay in town.”
“Thanks, I will,” Grady replied.
“If you get on the road by mid-morning, you can be in Boston in time for lunch.
Friday night, Grady strolled down the street enjoying the feel of the cooling air of night. Dinner had been at a small café and now he was heading to a gay bar. If nothing else, he could have a cocktail among other guys. He wanted companionship but felt torn about just a quick hookup. Everything in his life had changed so dramatically in the last few weeks, and on a path that he had always dreamed of but never felt feasible after his senior year. Now he wished for his personal life to have that same satisfying feel to it. As he passed a couple of guys holding hands the desire for something serious only grew more intense. But he had been in the area for such a short time, maybe he should just enjoy himself in whatever manner was made available.
A quick glance at his cellphone and he saw it was almost ten thirty and he had two messages from friends back in Richmond. Moving to the side, he typed quick replies to each, then continued down the sidewalk. The bar was on the next block, and he quickly found himself going into a dimly lit but noisy interior.
Grady slipped up to the bar between two groups of guys. He heard bits and pieces of their conversations. The jesting back and forth, or serious inquiries about some guy, or a comment that was no different from any conversation of any gay bar he had been in. He got a cocktail and stepped away from the bar, moving to the side of the room and to the back corner where he could lean against the wall. He knew it was a bad habit, one that let him watch the guys when what he should have done is stay at the bar to meet them, sharing in the small talk and banter. He sipped the drink and watched the guys, noting those that were friends and those that were meeting someone for the first time. He was nearly finished with his drink and ready for another, when he saw three guys come in. The first two came in laughing and following them, a guy shaking his head in apparent disgust.
Grady did a double take, realizing the last guy was the waiter from the café back in Brattleboro. He looked different in a black pullover and jeans. Grady watched the group cross the room and to the bar where one of the guys slipped up to it. They ordered drinks, and once in hand, moved back into the center of the space between the tables along the wall and the bar. Grady watched the waiter, who was freer in his movements, more relaxed. There was the way he smiled at the other two guys and the way he would lean in closer, to hear what one had to say.
Grady wondered what the relationship was between them. Was the waiter a boyfriend to one of them? Was the three just friends out for the night, or did they have one of those open relationships that included all three of them. Nothing by the waiter’s mannerism gave a clue. Grady was tempted to go over and say hello, then thought better of it. How many guys did the waiter serve over the course of a few days, and how many would he remember? What was the chance he had made an impression, one strong enough to be recognized a few days later in another city?
Drink down to ice cubes, Grady finally crossed the narrow space and slipped up to the bar on the far end, away from the waiter. It took a couple of minutes to get one of the bartenders over, but eventually he had his drink. He stepped back to move away from the bar, and bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I…” Grady uttered, then froze, seeing the waiter behind him.
“Hey, you were in the café last Wednesday. I don’t know if you remember…”
“You were my waiter. Yes, I remember.”
“I’m surprised to see you here. Well, that isn’t true. I saw what you were reading in the cafe, wanted to comment on it, but it seemed like an invasion of your privacy. But…well, I’m glad to see you again,” the waiter rambled on until Grady had to smile, for it good to see he wasn’t the only person who rambled on when meeting someone new.
“I’m Grady, Grady Thompson.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve not introduced myself. I’m Benjamin Carpenter.”
“Are those your friends, or is one of them your boyfriend?” Grady asked, hearing the insecurity in his voice. That lingering doubt that something had to be wrong.
“Those two? They’re friends who live here in the city. They are married, have been since graduation from college. I’ve known them since high school when they met and started dating.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“So, what brings you guys out for a Friday night?”
Benjamin looked at Grady shaking his head.
“They get me to come into town to drag me out hoping I’ll meet someone.”
“Do you? Meet someone when you come out?”
“Nothing special in the past, but I keep my hope up for doing so. Maybe…tonight?”
Grady heard it, the opportunity to push beyond mere casual conversation.
“I hope so too.”
“Really? I mean…damn. Look, I’m not a college graduate. I finished high school and started working odd jobs, at first in my hometown of Keene, then I took the job at the café last fall.”
“So, you’re a local boy.”
“Yep.”
“Are you in town for the weekend?”
“Yes, until Sunday morning. I have a shift Sunday afternoon until closing.”
“I’m here until Sunday too. Would you like to get together tomorrow…if you don’t have plans already?”
“No, no plans. I’d love to do something.”
“I’m staying at this bed and breakfast not far from here.”
“The Newton Guest House?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“That place is nice, but out of range of my budget.”
Grady sipped his drink, building up his courage.
“Would you like to ditch your friends and come back and see my room?”
Benjamin smiled, looked back at his friends seeing them give him a thumbs up gesture, then turned back to Grady.
“I’d like nothing more.”
Walking back to the boutique hotel, Grady got the measure of Benjamin. The physical nature of him. A bit taller, around six foot one or so, and up-close standing next to him, he looked lean but muscular. Benjamin walked with an easy gait while using his hands to gesture while talking. Grady saw someone easy going in nature, but still guarded, and he remembered how Benjamin made it a point to tell him he was no college graduate. It seemed like something Benjamin beat himself up over. Grady didn’t care, knowing he had been in a job he didn’t like even with a degree. Maybe, Benjamin hadn’t found the right job, or maybe he was someone who didn’t care about the job, but was more interested in living life, and Grady could accept that too. Not everyone was a go-getter, a professional out to change the world. He felt such stability in his life with his new job at the center, he would not fret over what Benjamin did for a living. He looked over to make eye contact showing he was listening to Benjamin talk about Boston and some of the restaurants they should try, and he found his attraction to him wasn’t hindered by any of it.
At the boutique hotel, Grady led Benjamin up to the fourth floor and to his room overlooking the street. The curtains were open, and the lights of the city illuminated the interior until Grady found the switch to a lamp by the bed. The room was suddenly a warm glow of light. Benjamin went to the window and looked out at the city. Grady eased up behind him and slipped his arms around the narrow waist. He hugged their bodies together feeling a hand rub his arms, then Benjamin pulled to loosen their hold as he turned to face him.
“I’m glad I ran into you again,” Benjamin whispered.
“Me too,” Grady replied, then leaned toward him until their lips touched.
Grady moved over Benjamin, felt a hand take his cock guiding him to his target. He pushed against the tight hole until stretching it open. Benjamin cried out, shuddered beneath him, as he eased the head of his cock into him. Fingers dug into his thighs as he pushed deeper and deeper until over half of his cock was buried inside Benjamin.
“Fuck,” Benjamin grunted.
“Yeah,” Grady uttered as he began to fuck, to tug outward then push back in, shivering with the feel of the tight hole on his cock. Opening his eyes, he looked at the prone body below him. The long torso, the hard cock laying over the stomach, and his cock as he piston it within Benjamin. As the tightness around his cock lessened, his pace increased. Faster and faster, until hammering cock into him. He smacked against the spread ass and rocked the bed until it squeaked in rhythm to his fuck.
Fucking until sweat trickled down his face and even Benjamin was gasping for breath, Grady finally slowed, then eased out of him.
“Roll over,” Grady uttered.
Benjamin got up, and on his knees and elbows. He looked over his left shoulder at Grady moving up between his legs.
“Come on, fuck me.”
Grady put his cock against Benjamin’s hole and sunk his cock all the way into it. Every inch, and he pushed against the firm ass as he grabbed Benjamin by the waist. He tugged outward until his cock hovered between them, then he shoved it back into him. Over and over, until he couldn’t take it, and he buried his cock into Benjamin and began to fuck. A fast fuck. Flesh smacking against flesh.
Grady reached out with one hand, taking Benjamin by the shoulder and pulled him up on knees. Arm wrapped around the neck, he pulled him back against his chest. It increased his arousal, the feel of smooth skin, slick with sweat, rubbing his chest. He hammered his cock inside of him, faster and faster, until roughly rocking him at the waist.
“Fuck…take me,” Grady uttered breathlessly, then shoved into Benjamin all the way and came.
Grady eased out of Benjamin, guided him to lay down as he got down between the long legs. The hairy calves tickled his skin as he moved to the leaking cock. He held it up, and dragged his tongue over the tight sac and up the shaft until tasting the drool from the head. He sucked it into his mouth and pushed down until taking nearly every inch. A hand came to his shoulder, another on top of head. He moved on Benjamin until he felt the cock flex against the roof of his mouth and the hand on his head push him down. The cock swelled thick on his tongue, then gushed cum until he had to swallow.
“Fuck,” Benjamin uttered in an exhausted voice.
“Come on, shower with me,” Grady asked as he climbed to his feet and held out a hand to help him up.
Benjamin smiled, took the hand, and came to his feet next to Grady.
The shower ran warm, and Grady maneuvered Benjamin under its spray. He washed his back, ass, and down each leg. He guided him to turn, and he worked his way up, over legs, around hardening cock, and up the stomach and chest. He kissed him while pushing him against the wall. Body against body, he felt the soap slick skin against his own and it made him harden.
“Grady, suck me until I’m hard, then fuck me…fuck me again.”
Grady took Benjamin in his mouth. He toyed with him, manipulated the cock until it was hard as rock and curved upward. He stood and guided Benjamin to turn around. Hands and forehead against the wall, Benjamin moved his feet back, spreading them opening himself to Grady.
Grady moved to him, put his cock at the top of his ass and rubbed it down between the cheeks. Up and down, he rubbed his cock, circling in on the tight opening until he was pushing against it. He breached the tightness once again and sank into Benjamin’s depths. Soon he held the narrow waist and hammered his cock into Benjamin’s depths. He reached around and took him in hand. He stroked him as he fucked. His pace increased until the sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed in the bathroom. Leaning forward until against the back, he fucked to the point of exhaustion. He felt Benjamin’s cock swell, then flex in his hand, then Benjamin shuddering against his chest, and he knew Benjamin was coming. The thought of it, the sweet release, and he shoved into Benjamin’s depths and came.
June 2022
Jason looked across the pit at Callum who was on the phone pacing back and forth. Those that made the final discovery leaned against the side of the pit while the remainder of their crew stood around it. He checked his watch again, wondering how quickly they could pack up and get out of the country. The dig was illegal. It wasn’t the first one to be so, but it was the most worrying, for they were north of Nepal, within the southern region of Tibet within the borders of China.
Four years ago, when Callum and he had accepted the positions at the Murray Orion Center, they would never have agreed to such an endeavor. But a couple of instances at the next couple of digs and a long meeting one night two years ago with Corbett and Duncan had pressed upon them the necessity of finding the artifacts. The withered forearms with the coal black index fingers.
Corbett and Duncan had demonstrated abilities that left them speechless, then told of what they had come to understand about the relics. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, especially with the test results of their finds to date. Nothing conclusive, no element known to man that explained the staining or reaction that caused the fingers to turn. Duncan explained the events that led them to create the center and search for every relic they could find, and any historical data that would help explain them.
There had been their first dig, the one in Chile. It had been a fucking disaster, for the relic had been stolen at the airport. At the time Jason and Callum could not understand the anger expressed by Corbett, then even more surprising from Duncan too. They would come to know how bad it was to lose one of the relics. After almost four years, it still had not surfaced. They had regrouped at the center, tightened protocols and Corbett hired a security consultant who created a team for each dig. It had seemed such overkill, but Jason looked across the illegal dig site somewhere in Tibet and knew there wasn’t near enough security should the Chinese government discover their presence. It was nerve racking the way they had to fly in early in the morning before daylight, using a Chinese Z-11 helicopter in the hopes it would draw less attention. Then right after darkness, the helicopter came to retrieve them. During daylight hours they were on their own, and the flight over the mountains back to Nepal was nerve racking.
He thought of the other digs, the one in the Afar desert in Ethiopia, then the dig south of Angkor Wat along the bank of the Siem Reap River, the one that left three of the crew sick for days in Siem Reap Provincial Hospital. Jason considered how Corbett always had the next dig site selected, packing them up on one of the company jets. Next had been the most surprising location, a site overlooking Bay of Islands, west of Cox’s Cove in Newfoundland. Corbett’s coordinates had been shockingly perfect, and within three days they had found the stone box that contained the skeleton with its withered arm. The next dig had been a site just north of the city of Damascus, followed by Le Devoluy, France, and finally the dig last fall, at a site east of the ruins of Calakmul in Mexico.
Duncan had said this was the last dig for the artifacts, that their research showed only nine had been in existence, their creation at different times in history. Callum had asked what would stop more from being created. The answer was unnerving in Duncan’s non commitment to answering the question. Corbett had promised to fill them in completely, but they had more research to complete and for Jason and Callum, it was more important for them to keep digging until all seven remaining relics were in possession of the center.
Jason saw Callum end his call and move around the pit toward him.
“We going to bug out as soon as possible,” said Callum.
“Before dark?” Jason replied.
“Yes. The helicopter is on its way, should be here in forty minutes. We’re to get the relic and the stone box packed up.”
“What about the gear?”
“We’re to toss it in the pit and if we have time, cover it up. We’re not to waste time on the gear; just get our crew and the relic on that helicopter and get out of here.”
They worked diligently getting the relic, the box and its lid wrapped up ready for their flight. The two security guys helped the crew bury the gear, and once the Z-11 came into view flying low over the rugged terrain, they were standing out in the open with the boxed-up relic, anxious about the exposure.
The helicopter landed close by and with blades still rotating, they loaded up the boxes, climbed on board and told the pilots to get them back to Bajura Airport. It was about 160 kilometers, almost half over Tibet. The helicopter spun up the rotors and lifted off. Nose down, it spun around and headed toward the mountains towering into the sky to their south. The pilots keep close to the ground, dust swirling up behind them. As they entered the mountains, the pilot stayed in the valleys as much as possible, climbing over ridgelines only when necessary.
The sun was on the western horizon when they came to the Bajura Airport and its dirt runway and landing field. Parked nearby was a Viking DHC-6 Twin Otter. The sight of the twin engine prop plane brought a smile to Jason. He knew the craft, having flown in them all over the world. A rugged reliable short take off craft, perfect for places like Bajura.
As they loaded the plane, an airport official came running up looking frightened. The interpreter, Chevis Matthieu, a mid-thirties language graduate from France, one of the best per Duncan, came over as the official ran up to Jason and Callum, talking as fast as he could.
“It seems the Chinese spotted the helicopter and know it isn’t one of their’s,” said Chevis, trying to listen to the official’s rambling rant.
“Tell him it’ll be gone in five minutes,” said Callum, motioning the pilot of the Z-11 to spool it up and go.
Chevis told the official then listened to his reply.
“It has to be out of the country. The Chinese will find it if it remains,” Chevis interpreted.
“Not a problem. We have it covered,” said Callum as he smiled at the official. “Don’t tell him this, but that helicopter will be nothing but scrap metal by tomorrow.” Callum knew the pilots were to take the Z-11 to India where a crew of locals were ready to dismantle it.
The DHC-6 loaded up, crew safely on board, the pilot pulled to the runway, throttled the engines, and headed down the runway. As the plane rose the runway ended and the ground dropped away almost as fast as the plane climbed. A slow banked turn to the right and the plane headed south. It was a short flight, and soon the plane was descending for a landing at Chaudhary Charan Singh Airport, in India.
As soon as the plane came to a stop at an area to the east of the main terminal, two black Mercedes vans pulled up, with side doors sliding open.
“Okay, let’s get loaded up and to the hotel. The company jet will be here first thing in the morning,” said Jason. He saw Callum talking to the security guys, knowing another crew waited for them at the hotel to watch the vans over night while they got cleaned up, food, and some much needed rest.
The next morning, the crew arrived at the airport just after sunrise to find the center’s jet parked on the tarmac awaiting their arrival. The Bombardier Global 7500 sat in the early morning light, the white upper section of the fuselage reflecting it while the bottom, a sharp contrast to the white, was dark blue. The center had no identification on the plane, the same as all their craft. The crew got the relics loaded, then climbed on board. The plane taxied to the runway, spooled up the jet engines, and thundered down the runway. They would fly non-stop to Hawaii, where they would refuel and get some rest, then finish their journey back to the center the next day.
Vermont, United States of America
Corbett sat at his computer, hands hovering over the keyboard. To his right, the mouse sat in the field reflecting one of the four large screens on the wall. Around it the icons for different programs. It was a custom configuration that ran programs created just for their needs. He leaned back and stared at the upper right monitor. It was an interactive map the Pacific Ocean and surrounding land masses. An icon for the Bombardier was moving out over the ocean on its way to Hawaii. On the monitor below, Callum’s report on the dig, with photos of the relic within the stone box, then one of its top. He zoomed in on the top while remembering what Callum wrote up on the small carving at one end. A simple rectangle contained the only writing. Callum had theorized it was some old version of the Xiang language. Corbett wasn’t as sure, and he zoomed in closer. He’d seen similar symbols before but at first couldn’t remember where. He pulled up photos of the other artifacts of the other digs. Ethiopia, Angkor Wat, Newfoundland, then Damascus, and he stopped, scrolling back to one of the first images from Damascus. He skipped the stone box the skeleton had been in, instead looked at the artifacts that had been with it. It was a small stone tablet that caught his eye, one that had three columns of writing. The first an early Semitic language of the Amorites, then the Cuneiform script of early Babylonia, and in the next column, a language they had passed off as an early middle eastern writing from the north or northeast. Corbett looked at it now, positioning it side by side with the Tibetan dig. He shook his head at the similarities and how the differences could be just the writing styles of those who carved them.
Corbett wished Duncan were there, but he had flown to Scotland to talk with his father about a relic from the Newfoundland dig. Corbett looked up at the upper left monitor with its map of the Atlanta Ocean and in Glasgow, Scotland sat the icon for the Gulfstream G700. It would remain there until early morning Scotland time before bringing Duncan back to Vermont. He was tempted to call him but set his phone back on his desk and climbed to his feet. Crossing the private research room, one separate from those in the main research and laboratories of the building, he moved past the bookshelves and dry erase board to the wall of white enameled panels like the ones utilized on the exterior façade. He punched a code in what appeared to be a thermostat and two panels moved inward then slid apart. He smiled as he passed the bookshelves, remembering how Duncan wanted the secret door to be behind it, and a book to be the hidden switch. Corbett had told him to stop watching spy and action hero flicks, which was silly. A bit of unnecessary theater.
Passing through the doorway, the panels closed behind him as the lights came up in the room. Along one wall, sealed glass cases with the skeletons from each dig. In the center of the room, rows of steel boxes with glass tops containing the other artifacts from each. He moved past the case with artifacts but where the wall case was empty. It was for the Chile dig, and it was still his intention to get it back. Duncan and he had tried to find it, merging together over the years to try to find it. Whoever had it, kept it buried deep in the ground or within a heavily shielded room.
At the Damascus case, he looked at the tablet laid out in one corner. In person, up close, the writing looked even more like that from Tibet.
Corbett straightened up and turned to the wall with the skeletons. He stared at them wondering what secrets each kept hidden from him. It didn’t make sense how they came into being at different times, some very early in civilization, then others, like the one in Newfoundland, from as late in history as 1,000 A.D. But then they stopped, not another since. He wondered about the span of time from the first one to the last and if it was simply too soon for another to be created. But the thing that drove Duncan and he nuts, kept them busy in their research, was how they were created and for what purpose. The one from Egypt had fallen into the wrong hands and almost became a disaster, but then the one from Scotland of about the same age as the one in Newfoundland, had shown them the way to the one from Egypt, as if whoever or whatever created them knew what was to come forth.
When the crew got back from the Tibetan dig, he could do a better comparison. He moved toward the secret door, and it opened as he approached it. He shut off the lights in the room and headed back to their residence. He hated cooking for just himself and worse, sitting at the dining table alone. He would shower and change, then drive down to Brattleboro to the tavern in downtown. Maybe one of the local bands would be playing. As he headed out, he wondered if Grady would like to go with him. He knew Grady would accept any excuse to go if he could hook up with Benjamin.
The Laboratory
Dr. Klava Smirnov stepped off the elevator and strolled down the short hall to the doors straight ahead. She slipped her security card through the panel to one side, let it scan her eye, then stepped back. The doors swung open, and she entered the room on a mezzanine that overlooked a laboratory. The room was 100 meters long by 60 meters wide and the exposed rock ceiling above curved overhead 40 meters above. Dr. Smirnov looked over the floor below, different areas doing various research projects, all based around the relic that sat in a glass chamber filled with bluish gas, used to slow deterioration. She was looking for Dr. Pavel Federov or Dr. Vladimir Morozov, the latter she finally spotted near the glass chamber in discussion with two lab technicians.
Dr. Smirnov moved to the stair descending to the main floor and strolled straight to Dr. Morozov. The other scientists and technicians moved out of her way, each fearing her for she wielded more power and authority than anyone else at the laboratory. When she drew near, she called out.
“Dr. Morozov, why have I not gotten the results of the last experiments?”
Her tone was accusatory, sharp as a razor, and Dr. Morozov spun around to face her, stuttering the first syllable of his attempted reply. He gathered himself, took another breath and began again.
“Dr. Smirnov, I’m sorry, but each test was negative. We got no response.”
“NONE? Nothing?”
“Yes, Dr. Smirnov.”
“It’s been nearly four years. What are we paying you people for?”
“We just don’t know how to trigger it. Dr. Federov has gone back through the reports from the Egyptian find, but they are vague and conflicting. There are references to a lightning strike, which we have attempted to recreate, but…” He stumbled over his words, fearful of continuing.
“But, what?”
“If we use the full voltage we can generate, we’ll burn the relic to dust. It’ll be a one-time experiment, and since we can’t generate the power of a lightning strike, we fear failure.”
Dr. Smirnov took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then scanned the room seeing the fear and anxiousness of the staff. She turned back to Dr. Morozov and moved closer, so close he almost took a step back.
“Our leader wants results, and I need to give them to him. I’m out of patience with your excuses. Do something or you’ll find yourself in a more remote place than this, that I can promise you, Dr. Morozov.”
“You want us to do the test?”
“Is it the only remaining test you have to do?”
“Yes.”
“Then run the goddamn test.”
Dr. Smirnov spun around and walked back to the steps up the mezzanine. She didn’t look back as she climbed them, then went out the doors. When the doors closed, the staff seemed to exhale in relief as one, and Dr. Morozov wiped his face with a trembling hand. He feared the test nearly as much as he feared Dr. Smirnov. But not enough to stop from doing it. He looked at the two technicians seeing the same fear on their faces. They knew what he was about to say.
“Gentlemen, how soon can we have the test ready?”
Murray Orion Center Private Airfield
East of South Shaftsbury, Vermont
The dark red car quietly slowed on the main road, turned on the private drive and pulled up to the gate. It sat silent as the gate opened, then with only the noise of the rolling tires, eased forward. The guards had come to know this newest car, a Lucid electric car owned by Corbett Bentley. They watched the unique automobile disappear around a curve heading to the private airfield.
There were two flights expected over the course of the day, and once they arrived, they would close the guard station, secure the gate, and return to their private quarters at the back of the property. The job had seemed too good to be true. Limited hours, but once on call, they knew to expect a day or two of long hours. But that was far outweighed by having homes provided to live in.
On this day, they just had to wait for a short time, knowing the flight from Scotland was due soon, and the other sometime after lunch.
Corbett pulled around to the massive hanger. There were four hanger doors across the front, three down but the first one was open. As he pulled up, the largest on the far end began to fold upward. He stopped just short of the first door and climbed out. Sam Kerry came out meeting him halfway carrying his usual clipboard. It seemed quaint to Corbett, this primitive means of keeping track of everything at the airfield, but for Sam it worked, and he never failed to download the data by day’s end for Corbett to look over.
“Corbett, Duncan’s flight is on final approach. They should be on the ground soon.”
“Good,” Corbett replied, looking up in the sky expecting to see the plane, knowing it was still some distance out. “What about the flight from India?”
“They are running a few minutes behind. Bad weather in the west made them swung northward.”
“If I know Francis, he’ll make up the lost time by pushing it,” said Corbett referring to the pilot of the Bombardier.
Sam laughed, nodding in agreement. Then he held out the clipboard he had been carrying.
“The service report on the helicopter.”
“The 109 PG?” asked Corbett referring to the Augusta Westland 109 Power Grand.
“No, it’s the VIP,” Sam replied, referring to the other Augusta Westland, the AW109 Grand Versace VIP, his and Duncan’s personal helicopter.
“Oh, yeah, I guess it was time for some service, which reminds me, we’re going down to Providence in three weeks to meet my folks.”
“It’s on the calendar,” Sam assured Corbett.
Corbett scanned the airfield, always wondering about improvements they could or should make. The small tower looked more like a fire tower for woodland than an aviation tower for an airfield, but Duncan kept reminding him that it was visible from the main road and best not to draw too much attention. Corbett thought it silly, for the jets drew plenty of attention every time they took off and landed. Looking back at the hanger, he saw the single-engine plane that Sam owned. It was a Pilatus PC-12 NG, one Sam bought at an auction. It had been a DEA confiscated plane and there had been repairs needed, such as a new door to the cabin (bullet holes), two windows (again, bullets but from the inside trying to shoot out) and a whole new interior (the original had been stripped out except for two seats but everything had to go since it was contaminated with enough white powder residue to make a man high just sitting in it). Sam had done most of the work himself and Duncan didn’t think Corbett knew about it, but he had contributed to the repair costs, Duncan telling Sam it would be a good backup craft for short journeys. Sitting in the early morning sun the sliver plane did look good and Corbett wondered when he could get Sam to take him up.
“Duncan is on approach,” Sam said after checking his cellphone. He turned and headed toward the hanger to prepare for the plane’s arrival.
Corbett looked up and saw the plane on its final approach. The landing gear lowered and as it neared the runway, the nose rose as the plane descended. He watched the wheels touch down, then the plane slow as it passed and once at the first turn off, it turned to come back to the hanger. As it maneuvered up to the open door, he went to meet Duncan.
Very quickly the door opened, and the steps lowered, and Duncan came out, satchel slung over one shoulder.
“The crew still getting back today?” asked Duncan.
“Yes, should be here around two,” Corbett replied. He moved closer to Duncan, lowering his voice. “You want to go for a late breakfast or brunch down in Bennington?”
“That sounds good for I didn’t have time to grab something before the flight, so I’ve only had snacks.”
“That junk Sam keeps on the plane?”
“Yep,” Duncan replied.
Corbett drove down Highway 7 until they were in downtown Bennington. They had been in the town before, walking its small downtown checking out restaurants and taverns. Parked in a small gravel parking lot, they made their way into one of the diners. It was busy despite the late morning hour, and they took a seat along the front wall.
With their orders placed, Duncan leaned forward.
“Did you see my report?”
“Yes. Your father doesn’t know anything about that skeleton.”
“And neither did your mom.”
“But I don’t understand why it didn’t affect them in some way more pronounced. Why did it transfer to us, their children?”
“Or why it did affect that guy from North Korea.”
“It has to be about the lightning strike.”
“In the desert of Egypt, on a clear day?”
“I know, it sounds a bit crazy.”
“Well, let’s see if this last one has anything to tell us.”
“Are we sure it is the last one?”
“You felt it too. There was this last one out there and no other…”
“Manifestation?”
“Whatever,” Duncan replied, never liking the way Corbett described it, the vision they got when they joined to seek out the relics.
Corbett pulled out his cellphone and did a search while Duncan finished his breakfast.
“What are you looking for?” asked Duncan as he pushed his empty plate back.
“You’ll see,” Corbett replied, looking up and smiling.
“Sounds like trouble.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Back in the car, Corbett pulled out and headed south.
“Where are you going?” Duncan asked, smiling for he knew Corbett was up to something.
“Not far,” Corbett replied, making a right turn.
A short drive and Corbett pulled into the parking lot of one of the local inns. Duncan chuckled as Corbett parked, then the two of them went inside to get a room.
Inside the small room, one of the least furnished, for Corbet knew they didn’t need a sitting area, just the bed. He led Duncan next to the bed where he began to undo the buttons of Duncan’s shirt. Then he got Duncan’s pants down, helping him step out of them. Duncan finally naked, he rose to the flaccid cock and took it in his mouth. He sucked, tongued, and worked his lips over it until it filled his mouth. He tugged on the sac and fingered Duncan’s ass as he sucked until fingers dug into his shoulders.
“Fuck, Corbett, stop, stop,” Duncan cried out.
Callum and Jason sat in the front lounge chairs, with seat belts fastened. Jason looked back to check the rest of the crew, seeing everyone was ready to land.
“I bet Corbett will be at the runway waiting,” said Callum.
“I’m not taking that bet, especially knowing Duncan landed this morning.”
The plane descended, the trees and fields coming into greater clarity until suddenly the end of the runway passed underneath, then the plane touched down and braked. The pilots got the plane to the hanger and parked just outside the raised door and shut it down. Callum opened the door and lowered the steps, descending to the tarmac with Jason right behind him. Before them was Corbett’s new car with he and Duncan standing at the front waiting.
Jason stayed at the plane overseeing the unloading of the relics while Callum crossed the tarmac to Corbett and Duncan.
“Any problems?” asked Duncan.
“No, everything went as planned,” Callum replied.
“We’ve gotten some chatter from China, but they have nothing to go on,” said Corbett.
“Getting the helicopter out of Nepal and disposing of it was a wise move. There was no way to hide that thing in Nepal,” said Callum as he came to stand in front of the guys, holding out some photographs.
“This it?” asked Duncan.
“That it is,” said Callum.
Corbett took the photographs and he thumbed through them with Duncan looking over.
“It’s like the others,” uttered Duncan.
“Let’s get it to our lab,” said Corbett.
Siberia
The land was rugged, frozen, with low plant growth. Down a dirt track in a region were there was very little of civilization. A village or some military outpost, or in some remote place, a cabin that belonged to the most rugged and isolationist of people. The track circled around low mountains, then out onto a tundra. In a desolate barren area, a concrete structure protruded up from the ground. It was barely four meters to a side and only three high. What no one who had ever stumbled upon it knew was what lay beneath. They would assume missiles aimed at the Americans or maybe a bomb shelter for some of the leaders of the country. None would guess a laboratory lay 40 meters down.
The day progressed as usual, a biting cold breeze from the Artic swept over the land. The sun dropped in the western sky, and if anyone had been looking at that moment, they would have seen two military jets cut across the yellow orb.
Suddenly the strangle silence and nothingness of the land was shattered. The ground shook as if an earthquake were occurring, then it swelled upward, one meter, two, three, then it collapsed. The depression was thirty meters deep and sixty meters in diameter.
No one was around to see or to know that just before, deep below, alarms sounded, and red lights flashed. Men and women were running for one of the elevators, and those who knew the futility of it had rushed to the stair.
The laboratory had exploded, everything pushed out from the main room, then just as suddenly, everything came back on itself, sucked into a vortex. The implosion was stronger, more violent. Within seconds little remained of the laboratory. The vortex spun within the collapsing space, shrinking in size until it was no more.
Russia announced the tremors picked up around the world were from an earthquake, one in a desolate place where no one was living. They would continue with the lie for the next day, until a bombing in Jordan moved attention away. But the Kremlin would push to get a military crew to the site, sending out messages to the nearest base.
At the site, deep within the former laboratory, a section of the upper level not over the laboratory lay in ruins. No plane was straight or level: no wall, floor, or ceiling. The compromised space was pitch black with nothing electronic working.
But in the largest office, a light began to glow, one blue in color. It grew brighter, then moved to the door. Dr. Klava Smirnov came out, right hand held out in front of her with a glowing sphere of light hovering over it. She moved with sure footedness and looked around at the destruction wrought by the test. Her black eyes looked where the light illuminated, then further out through the dust and diminishing daylight. She knew she was the sole survivor and had the power of the relic to thank for it. The laboratory had set up the experiment, thick aluminum wires circuited to an array around the relic. They had turned off all nonessential equipment before turning on the system. The lights had dimmed from the huge draw of electricity and fans struggled to control the buildup of heat. She had been on the mezzanine watching when it happened. As the power began to flow into the relic, a blue sphere formed around it and kept increasing in size. She knew it was dangerous to remain, the reports from the Egyptian event still in mind, so she had rushed to the doors. Electrical charges shot around the room behind her as her hair stood on end. She had to wait impatiently for the doors to slide open, slowed by the drain on power. Before opening all the way, an electrical charge had hit her in the back of the head. It lifted her off the ground and created a glow around her jerking and shuddering body.
When the power cut off, Dr. Smirnov fell to the floor. The room glowed blue, the sphere around the charred relic continuing to swell larger and larger. She came to and looked at the sphere as it filled the room. She jumped to her feet then ran, squeezing through the stopped doors, down the corridor to the stair pushing others out of the way. She had climbed frantically to the next level and exited as all the others kept climbing. She had run to her office, the most remote room from the laboratory, sensing it was the safest place to be.
Now she came out of the busted door to find the ground that had been above now lay in crumbled broken sections below her. A bowl-shaped depression where the laboratory had been. She walked out into the open, then rose. Higher and higher until she could float to the ground outside the depression.
Murray Orion Center
Vermont, United States of America
It was drizzling rain, had been for the two days since everyone returned. Lights illuminated the center, a beacon of human enterprise in the lush woodland of the mountains. Down below, two black Tahoe SUVs approached. They moved in tandem, and once at the drive up to the center, slowed and turned on it.
Corbett stood at the window of his front office, Duncan at the small bar pouring a water.
“They’re here,” said Corbett.
“You sure it is the CIA?” asked Duncan.
“You saw it yourself.”
“I wonder what they know?”
“Enough to cause trouble,” Corbett replied turning to his desk. He picked up the receiver to internal phone system and hit the red button.
“Yes, sir,” came Malcolm’s reply, the leader of security for the shift on duty.
“We think the CIA is coming for a visit. Not sure why but make them comfortable in the library and Malcolm.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t let them know we were expecting them.”
“Will do,” and the line clicked off.
“He is so by the book,” said Duncan coming to the desk.
“But he does his job well.”
“So, you’re playing the lead on this one?”’
“Sure.”
The SUVs pulled up to the Porte Cochere at the front entry and parked. Four men exited each vehicle but those in the second took-up places around them while the four from the first made their way inside. The receptionist began to greet them, but Malcolm came out a door from behind her and moved around the desk.
“Gentlemen, I’m Malcolm with security, how can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Corbett Bentley and Duncan McIntyre,” said the man in front.
“And may I ask who you are?”
“The CIA.”
“I see, well, I’ll let them know you are here. If you will follow me, I’ll set you up in the library where you can be more comfortable.”
Malcolm brought the four men into the library and noticed two set up a perimeter while the man that spoke and the one what walked the closest to him took a seat in the large leather armchairs in the center of the room. The room was two stories tall with a mezzanine circling it to access the upper section of shelves. There were no windows, and there would be no eavesdropping on any conversation within it from outside.
Corbett and Duncan made the men wait twenty minutes before entering, Corbett moving to the large leather sofa opposite them, and Duncan strolling over to the Nakashima Conoid desk, taking a seat.
“Gentlemen, I understand you are from the CIA, which is a surprise to us. I mean, why would you be bothering to come out here?” asked Corbett.
“Mr. Bentley, I think you know why. But I’ll humor you. I’m Simon Mayfield with the agency and this is John Richardson from NSA. We have a situation that involves your little archeological digs.”
“And what would that be?”
“We know you’ve found some relics that should have been turned over to us, and we’re interested in seeing them and what you have discovered.”
“The CIA is interested in some old relics?” said Duncan, drawing the attention of the men.
“We’ve got a lot of blank spaces in our information, but there was one in Egypt a few years back that has come to our attention.”
“We know that one; it came to our attention as a relic we missed out on. Have you found it?” asked Corbett, still playing his role.
“I think we both know no one is going to find that one. But we’re here to talk about the one from Chile. The one that got stolen from you.”
“Yes, a most unfortunate situation. We were careless, not believing anyone would steal something like that, but you know the black market. Something like that could be worth thousands of dollars to the right person.”
“But why would a government want it?” asked John Richardson, speaking for the first time.
“A government? You tell me,” Corbett replied.
John Richardson lifted his briefcase, a metal case with two security locks, and he cleared each one, opened the case and took out a manilla folder. It surprised Corbett to see something so archaic, but he leaned forward and took the offered folder.
Corbett opened it on the coffee table as Duncan came to stand behind him. He spread out a few aerial photos of a barren landscape, one close-up shot showing a small structure. He saw images of military trucks coming and going from the place, and in one photograph, a Mi-8 Russian helicopter parked nearby. He recognized the outline of it and knew it was military by the camouflage paint scheme.
“A Russian helicopter…this is in Siberia,” Corbett uttered.
“Very good. Now can you tell us why the Russians stole your relic from Chile?” asked John Richardson.
“This is where the Russians took it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” asked Duncan.
“Yes.”
“Well, I have no…” Corbett stopped, looking down at the last few photographs he just slid into view. The structure was gone, instead he was looking at a large depression in the ground. By the size of the military trucks parked at its edge, it was obvious the depression was massive.
“The Russians said it was an earthquake, but no earthquake has ever isolated itself to such a small area, and that is almost a perfect circle.”
“Was this a missile silo?” asked Duncan as Corbett looked closer at the images.
“No. We think it was some kind of research facility from our intercepts of communications,” said Simon Mayfield.
“There was a massive power build up, something satellites picked up, and when it exploded, or imploded by the looks of it, seismic monitors in the northern hemisphere picked it up,” added John Richardson.
“Any survivors?” Corbett asked, knowing there was at least one. He couldn’t say it to the men before him, for there was no way to explain how he knew, but aware of the event, he became aware of a survivor. He sensed them, still far away, but the same darkness the North Korean had radiated.
“Not that we are aware. Do you think there are survivors?”
Corbett shrugged his shoulders as he put the photographs back into a neat stack, set them in the folder, and held them out to Simon Mayfield.
“I have no idea but looking at that depression, whatever was down there looks destroyed by the weight of the ground on top of it, so I’d be surprised.”
“We would like to see the other relics,” said John Richardson.
“Do you have a warrant?” asked Duncan.
“No, but do we need one?”
“Yes, for I’m afraid you’ll contaminate them, or worse, try to take them from us.”
“Or is it you just don’t want us to see them?”
Corbett pulled out his cellphone, hit three numbers then listened.
“Zhilan, can you bring the photographs of the Callum and Jason digs to the library?”
He listened for a few seconds, nodded to himself, then replied to something said to him. “Yes, those are the ones. We have guests from the CIA and NSA who are interested in them…yes, I know.”
Corbett ended the internal call, slipped his phone back into his pocket and sat back.
“We’d prefer to see them in person,” said John Richardson.
“We have them in special storage to preserve them, and to take any of them out isn’t a big issue, but putting them back properly prepped…well, that takes some time,” Corbett replied.
They sat silent, no one saying anything else until Zhilan, one of the researchers who was mid-forties, petite, with short hair, came into the library. She smiled at John Richardson and Simon Mayfield, but both men knew it was not one of greeting as she handed an envelope to Corbett.
“Gentlemen, these are images of all the relics found at each site,” said Corbett, knowing the photographs had been censored, not all of them having the forearms within the images. To a lay person, there would be nothing unifying about the group of relics from each dig.
John Richardson took the envelope, pulled the photographs out and scanned through them. He looked up with a questioning expression.
“This is everything?”
“Yeah, why, was there something you were expecting in those digs?”
“We were…well, we’re not sure what to expect.”
“I see; you’re fishing for some lead to this little mystery from Russia,” said Duncan and he watched each of them look up with expressions of men just caught out in a lie. “I trust we’re done.”
“We’re done…for now,” John Richardson replied, climbing to his feet, followed by Simon Mayfield.
“I’ll have Malcolm show you out,” said Corbett and at that moment the door opened, and Malcolm came into the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some more pressing matters that require our attention.”
Corbett and Duncan left the room not looking back once, leaving Malcolm and Zhilan with the two men. She bowed slightly and followed them out as Malcolm approached them to escort them to the front entrance.
Corbett and Duncan stood in the elevator taking them up to the floor that connected to their private research facility and residence. The cab stopped moving, the bell dinged as the door slid to one side. They stepped out and headed down the corridor.
“What do you think?” asked Duncan.
“I think we have a really bad situation on our hands,” Corbett replied.
“You felt it too?”
“Why didn’t we feel it before?”
“We weren’t looking for it; not in the right place anyway.”
“It was like having the lights turned on in a dark room. I saw that depression and I saw it, then I felt them.”
“Did you see the date?”
“Yes. Two days ago.”
“They are really desperate for answers.”
“But you know it won’t help if they were told the truth. What are they going to do with their cyber-tech and weapons?”
“What are we going to do?”
“First we find the person who escaped that laboratory.”
“You think it is like Egypt?”
“Yes, only this time the Russians were trying to activate the relic.”
“It means they know too much.”
“Maybe…maybe not,” said Duncan as he opened the door to their laboratory.
Arisen
The military base sat outside the small town where the men and women lived with locals running businesses to support them. To their south, the Sea of Okhotsk. It was early morning, the hours of darkness when there settled a silence over the land. Two guards, Andrei and Nikolai, stumbled along half asleep while making their rounds. The German Shepherds tugged at their leashes, sniffing the ground and air as they moved along the fence. They came to the north side of the base where the grade rose to a level plateau, affording a view over the base and the terrain to the north. One of the dogs grew agitated and the other began to bark. Nikolai tugged on the leash, shining his flashlight over the ground and through the fence.
“Nikolai, what is that?” asked Andrei pointing toward the north.
“I have no idea,” Nikolai replied when he saw the small blue light in the distance.
They swung their rifles from shoulders to their hands holding the barrels pointing out toward the blue light. Nikolai shined the flashlight toward it, but the distance was too great to illuminate it.
“Identify yourself!” Andrei yelled.
The light continued to approach, and with Andrei’s yell, began to grow larger. Soon a shape began to materialize behind it, then it was apparent it was someone who appeared to be carrying the enlarging light. Their right hand was outstretched holding it aloft.
“Stop! Stop! I’m warning you, we’ll shoot,” yelled Nikolai.
The person kept coming toward then until only twenty meters away. Andrei raised his rifle and aimed at the person. The blue orb of light suddenly flew toward them. It passed through the fence and both men, leaving a circular section burned out of the fence and only dust where the two men and dogs had been standing. The person came to the opening in the fence, each wire end glowing red hot and smoking, and passed through without slowing. At the edge of the plateau, Dr. Klava Smirnov looked over the military base. She smiled, for it was perfect. She was going to send a message to the men who considered themselves leaders of this great country. She was going to show them how fragile that hold on power could be. She looked at the blue orb, guiding it to hover over the base. It increased in size and brightness, bringing those awake out to look up at it. In the nearby town, people came out too, pointing at the sky wondering what great weapon of war the country had developed.
The orb drifted down until only about ten meters above the buildings. It went from blue to red, then to orange. The people below began to feel the heat of it and ran. Some back inside buildings, others toward the roads that led off the base. The orb turned yellow, then white, then it exploded in a blast of white-hot heat and light.
Duncan was at his desk and Corbett was leaning over the observation table looking at the withered arm from Tibet. The phone rang, a screen refusing to show the number.
“This can’t be good,” Duncan uttered as he looked at the ringing phone.
“What is it?”
“No number comes up.”
“Answer it and put it on speaker.”
Duncan hit accept, then the speaker button twice, putting it over the room’s speaker system.
“Hello?”
“Is this Duncan or Corbett?”
“Both of us are here,” Duncan replied.
“Good. This is Simon Mayfield with the CIA.”
“We remember,” Corbett called out, his voice full of sarcasm.
“There has been a development and we think you may be able to help us understand it.”
“What would that be?” asked Duncan.
“My department tells me your computers are as secure, if not more so, than our system, so I’m going to send over a file once I get your email address. Look at it and call me back at the number in the email. We’ll be waiting to hear from you. The sooner the better.”
“The email to use is unsecure at MOC dot com,” said Duncan.
The call ended abruptly, and Duncan looked across to Corbett.
“Sounds ominous.”
“Let me know when the file arrives.”
“It is in our system now, being scanned…and it is now ready for opening.”
Corbett moved over next to Duncan and looked up at the large monitors pole mounted over the desk. A file came up, CIA logo, then warnings about tampering with government documents, then more warnings, until the file finally opened. The initial files were satellite images and at first neither of them understood what they were seeing. Then Duncan leaned closer to the monitor.
“That is a small town, or what’s left of it, but the photo is titled a military base.”
“There’s no military base for this whole area is a blast zone. Look at how everything on the perimeter is blown outward from this central location.”
“Looks like a small yield nuclear bomb.”
“I don’t think so, or the CIA wouldn’t be sending it to us.”
“Shit.”
“Let’s see what we can pick up,” said Corbett stripping off his gloves and tossing them on the table with the relic and going to the door that led to the room they called a brainstorming room. The room they used to join together.
The door was secured, and lights dimmed. Corbett and Duncan sat on the raised platform, one padded and covered in soft tan leather, a sharp contrast with the rest of the room of blacks and gun-metal greys. The ceiling was sixteen feet above the floor, giving them plenty of room for their connection.
Duncan held out his hands, knowing it wasn’t necessary, but it made it easier. Something about the contact let them read each other’s minds and make a stronger connection. Corbett lay his hands in them, and they focused their attention on each other and on opening the other dimension. A blue light appeared overhead, then drifted to one side of the room. It grew in intensity and size, until they could see the unfolding of space.
It’s not like the past times, Duncan thought, relaying it to Corbett.
No, it feels like a different dimension…a different portal, Corbett replied to him through their connection.
Or a different gateway.
The sphere unfolded until it was over three meters in diameter. Duncan and Corbett hovered over the platform, still holding hands. They saw movement within the sphere, then someone came into view. They looked human but their features were slightly different. There face was longer, their upper body that was visible was leaner. Looking out were eyes vivid blue and larger than normal.
“You’ve discovered the gateway between our worlds,” the person stated.
“We don’t understand. Where are you?” asked Corbett.
“I’m in an alternate space-time universe.”
“A parallel universe?” asked Duncan.
“Not exactly as you envision it, but that is close enough of a description.”
“And you speak the same language?” asked Corbett.
“No. We have the capability to translate.”
“Do you have a connection to the hands we’ve found?”
“Yes.”
“What are they and why are you leaving these relics?”
“The relics, as you refer to them, were originally meant as warnings, but I’m afraid some of the latter messages had an ulterior motive.”
“Warning? What kind of warning and why scattered through our history with such apparent randomness?” asked Duncan.
“Wait,” Corbett exclaimed. “You’ve been able to open this alternate dimension for thousands of years. How advanced are you to us?”
Was it a smile, Corbett wondered, for the person’s visage was distorted?
“We live in a world where the conflicts and descent into superstition did not affect us. While you were empire building, then collapsing, waging war, and going backwards, like your Dark Age, we kept advancing, and we had the added benefit of about twenty-five thousand of your earth years head start.”
“You’re our future,” Duncan uttered.
“Not exactly, but we’re a possible future if you can move past your warring and prejudices. The relics were to be warning, but we misjudged your early primitiveness and inability to access them.”
“But why bother to warn us?” asked Corbett.
“Of the various worlds in different time-space realities, you’re the closest to our world and therefore we…feel you. We sense you at a level that is uncomfortable when you are at your most horrific.”
“And the ones that were not warnings?”
“A rogue element in our world just wanted to end your existence. Send humanity on your planet into extinction. They thought it the only way to rid of us the discomfort.”
“We have eight relics, and we know one was destroyed and one has been stolen from us,” said Duncan, adding, “are there more out there?”
“No, we stopped a long time ago. But the one that was taken from you is a danger. You need to find the one who has absorbed its power.”
“Can you help us find it?”
“We need a gateway to your world, and it causes disruptions that effect both universes in profane ways, but we do have surveillance methods, and wherever that one is located is out of sight to us. But the last relic transmitted to your world by us, one our surveillance indicates was the last one you discovered may be able to assist you in searching for the rogue element. It was sent as a warning for that relic that someone has accessed.”
“How do we access it safely?” Corbett uttered as he considered the implications.
“Someone needs to interact with it. An electro-magnetic phase connection. And one more word of warning.”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to fall into a regressive time, one of turmoil and wars. We advise you to relocate to a safer place.”
“And where would that be?” asked Duncan.
The person within the sphere held out their hand and an image unfolded, one of rugged mountains, some peaks covered in snow. Corbett and Duncan looked at the image and its place came to them.
On The Move
Dr. Smirnov drove along a narrow unpaved road across a flat landscape. On each side of the road was fields and pastures with a scattering of trees in small clusters, nothing large enough to be considered a proper woodland. Expertly, she navigated the road in the stolen UAZ Patriot, an SUV that had been clean and undamaged, its white paint perfect. But she had taken it from a secured lot, crashing through a gate. She had since run two police officers off the road to prevent them from pulling her over and after more than 2,400 kilometers, the SUV was filthy with a busted-out grille and one headlight and damaged body panels down both sides. But it still ran strong, and she pushed it hard to take her to her destination.
She had been driving non-stop except to get gas for the SUV. She had not eaten or stopped for bathroom breaks since setting out. Her every thought was on getting to her destination and not letting anything get in her way.
The road rose in elevation while entering a rugged mountain chain that stretched from the south to the north for as far as the eye could see. The road curved, rose then fell, as it snaked through the valleys. She came to a valley were the road leveled out and had to slow for a military check point. She didn’t notice any signs for a base nearby and wondered why one would be in such a remote place. She pulled to a stop behind a box truck and waited.
She could see the soldier talking with the driver of the box truck, a nod of the head, then a smile. The box truck started up and eased through the gate and Dr. Smirnov considered running it but pulled up to the lowering gate and waited.
“Driver’s license,” the soldier stated. It wasn’t a question.
Dr. Smirnov had none of her personal effects. She had been stealing gas, and had no need otherwise of her money, credit card, or driver’s license. She pretended to be taking it out, then reached out, hand down so the soldier couldn’t see it was empty. When he reached up, she grasped his hand. Her grip was so tight bones could be heard breaking. The soldier tried to cry out, but he could only gasp for breath. He tried to pull away, then fall to his knees but Dr. Smirnov held tight. Suddenly he turned pale, then grey as his body withered. He gurgled as if trying to choke, then fell to the ground when she finally released him. He lay dead in a mudpuddle appearing much older than before.
Another soldier ran out of the guard shack and as he ran in front of her, she floored the accelerator running him down and crashing through the gate. She accelerated hard, putting distance between her and the check point. She could see where she was within the mother country and knew she needed the SUV to survive just six more days. In six days, she would be close enough to start the process of bringing the nations to war.
She was going to strike two cities that would stir up anger and fear. One to torment the west, especially the Americans, and one to stir up the Middle East and their allies, maybe even her own country would be dragged into it sooner rather than later. And if need, there was a third city, one closer to the heart of the west, that if she needed, it too would be reduced to ash.
Confession
Corbett went into the archeological wing of the facility. He knew Callum was examining the stone box of the last relic with Jason running test on some material samples. He entered the research room, a long narrow stark white room with bright overhead lights. Down the middle was one long table with work counters down each wall, with lab equipment, sinks, and glass door refrigerators and freezers. Callum was bent over the top of the stone box, magnifying glass in hand, going over a section of it.
“I hate to interrupt but could the two of you meet with us in an hour up in our research lab?” asked Corbett.
“Sure, we’ll be there,” Callum replied, looking up from the stone top.
Jason rolled away from the centrifuge turning to face Corbett. He nodded in agreement.
“Good. I’ll see you in an hour,” said Corbett, then he left the room.
In the opposite wing, Duncan entered the physics lab, finding everyone standing before a section of dry erase board, Johanna holding an erase up to one section ready to wipe it clean.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we would like everyone to come to our research lab. Say, in an hour?” said Duncan.
“Yes, we’ll be there,”
Duncan nodded, then left the room. Carlos stepped toward the door as if he was considering going in pursuit of Duncan, then he turned to the others.
“What do you think they want to talk to us about?”
“Who knows, but it’ll be intriguing if we’re to go to their lab,” said Johanna.
“You guys haven’t been there before?” asked Grady.
“Only to see it during our job interview, but since then, no,” Johanna replied.
A phone rang and Carlos realized it was his phone. He slipped it out, looked at the caller ID questioningly, then hit accept.
“Hey, Callum, what’s up?”
The others watched Carlos as he listened to Callum then he shrugged at them.
“We’re to be there too, and no, we have no idea why,” said Carlos into the phone, then he ended the call. He looked at the others. “I think this could be an interesting meeting for Jason and Callum will be there too.”
Everyone arrived in the corridor leading to Duncan and Corbett’s private lab at the same time. They strolled down the corridor silent, each wondering what this meeting would be about. The door to the laboratory was open and when they entered the room saw Callum leaning against one of the tables waiting for them. Behind him another door was open to the brainstorming room, just the faintest of light spilling out.
“Carlos, if you don’t mind, close the door,” said Callum. “Okay, we’ve called you here to show you what the research you do is all about. But first, let me tell you a little tale. Back in the summer of 1980, my father and Corbett’s mother were on a dig on the eastern coast of Scotland, a place very near the dig Callum and Jason would be on a few years later. These two digs are connected, but in an unusual way. The ruins that held the memorial to two men, one of which was supposed to be the next king of the territory, were not only in a relationship that caused them to ultimately flee the region. The unusual aspect of the two men is they were delivered by the same woman, one who was considered a witch in her time. We’ve found various spellings of her name, but we think the most accurate is Catismandua, and she eventually died, and her body ended up off the coast at the bottom of the North Sea. Her skeleton remains were retrieved by a diving group looking for treasures, not some human remains, and they gave them to crew on the dig at the coast, the one our parents were a part. There are aspects of this that we worked out in a way that cannot be part of any official report, and so we’ve kept it within our records but not in any release.
Now we get to the part of this story that will test your understanding of reality and what you think is possible. During that summer back in 1980, my father and Corbett’s mother cut themselves on the skeleton remains of Catismandua. It was not the way a transference of information was to occur.”
“What do you mean a transference?” asked Johanna.
“I’ll get to that, but I ask you allow me to tell this story, then we’ll remove your doubt and disbelief of what I’m about to tell you.
“We’ll jump ahead to the fall of 1988 when Corbett and I were born. We were born on the same day, and both of us having a small birthmark on our index fingers. We were tall skinny kids who excelled at our studies, skipping two grades, and had the opportunity to skip a third but our parents refused, thinking the age difference of two years would be hard enough. It would be sixteen years before our parents crossed paths again and the next summer found our two families vacationing together in Scotland. It is when Corbett and I discovered a connection between us, but at the time we had no idea how it was created or what it meant, and for years afterward the meaning of it would elude us.
“The next summer Corbett and I were to spend a month of our summer break hiking the Appalachian Trail. It was a fortuitous arrangement for it was during this hike we discovered just how powerful this connection was between us. We could unfold another dimension. We could use it travel through space-time and manipulate it to capture space here in our three-dimensional world.”
“What? You’re joking? Pulling our leg?” said Callum.
“Sounds crazy, I know, but let me finish and we’ll show you.
“Do any of you remember that explosion in Egypt back in the summer of 2017? The one at an illegal dig?”
“I remember it,” said Jason.
“One of the relics like we’ve been collecting was at that site and the North Korean man leading the expedition interacted with it in some manner. We think the description of a lightning strike had something to do with it. It gave him the ability to control the weather, or maybe it was some more nuisance aspect of the atmosphere, something at the molecular level, but if you remember there were numerous storms forming. They were 100-year storms, growing impossibly large and strong, then they just dissipated.”
“I remember how there were several regions, the Gulf Coast here and the eastern region of the Pacific that were terrified at the prospects of what they were facing,” said Jason.
“Corbett and I were able to intercept the man and stop him.”
“How?” asked Carlos.
“We put him in another dimension of space.”
“You’re fucking with us,” Callum uttered, and Duncan smiled at him knowing how it sounded.
“We didn’t understand why the relics existed and why one had influence over Corbett and I and seemed not to be harmful, while the one from Egypt had been the opposite.
“Yesterday, Corbett and I joined. That is how we describe it. We have the space through that door to do it, and yesterday we joined and this time we didn’t unfold the dimensional space we had in the past. It was different this time and it brought us in contact with another version of our world, one in a parallel space-time dimension. It was from there the relics were created in past times, and they were meant to be warnings. A means of trying to teach our civilizations that we were on a path of destruction and repeated failures. They did this because our parallel worlds were too close, a connection existed that troubled them with our stupid cruel ways.”
“But what about the one in Egypt?” asked Callum.
“A rogue element in their world decided it was better to have us ended rather than try to educate us. The one in Egypt and the one from Chile stolen from us were the two rogue relics.”
“And that means we’ve got a problem?” asked Callum.
“A big one. Intelligence from the CIA has provided us with data that indicates it ended up in an underground lab in Siberia and several days ago there was an explosion-scratch that-implosion that destroyed the lab. Then a couple days later, a miliary base near the coast on the Sea of Okhotsk was leveled.”
“Nuclear blast?”
“No radiation. We think it was the power of the relic, which had been transferred to someone from that laboratory.”
“And where is this person now?” asked Grady, speaking up for the first time.
“That is the question. We’ve tried to track it, but the person is good at shielding themselves, but we have a clue to where they are going. Somewhere in the Middle East.”
“That would a good place to stir shit up,” said Carlos.
“To put it bluntly, yes,’ said Duncan.
“This is crazy. You’re telling us the archeological digs focused on finding these relics was about some warning from another world, and the physics side was to try to understand the dimensional space Corbett and you were dabbling in?” asked Callum.
“We knew there was something important about them, and after Egypt, we feared another one could be dangerous,” said Duncan.
“Okay, we’re set up,” said Corbett from the opening, capturing everyone’s attention. “Let’s do this.”
Everyone stood around the perimeter of the room near the walls, except for Corbett and Duncan. They moved to the leather platform in the center of the room, sat crossed legged facing each other and held hands. Some expected some sort of chanting or utterance, but they were silent as the connection between them formed. A light formed, small, barely noticeable, then it increased in size while floating to one side of the room. Eventually everyone could see how space within it seemed to unfold. Grady was the closest to it, the expanding orb hovering between him and the platform.
Duncan and Corbett began to float upward, and the air felt charged. The lights dimmed and flickered. Then it appeared as if someone were in the orb. Human but not human, their features more exaggerated. As everyone watched the orb, no one noticed Grady had become frozen in place. His head tilted back, then his eyes rolled upward until only the whites showed. When he left the floor and began to hover in space, it drew the attention of the others.
“Don’t touch him!” Corbett exclaimed.
Grady floated upward and began to rotate slowly matching the spin of the orb. They circled each other for a few minutes, then Grady drifted over Corbett and Duncan continuing to slowly spin.
“She nears her destination,” Grady said in a flat tone, then after a long pause he continued. “She nears the places that are full of superstition and dogma and will use it against humanity. She nears, moving…south…through Turkey…to…to…to…she draws near…Jerusalem…Mecca…she’ll destroy each…exist no more…she draws near and will destroy one other…she’ll destroy Rome…Rome…Rome…Rome,” Grady repeated then he rotated into a horizontal position and drifted toward the floor as the orb folded within itself until it was gone and Grady lay on the floor unconscious.
Benjamin crossed the dining room, plates lined up one arm and another plate in the hand of the other and came upon the table at the front window.
“The grilled chicken salad,” said Benjamin as he set the plate before one of the women. “The turkey wrap,” he said as he set the next plate down. He moved around the table until all four had their food. He had just refilled their drinks, so he stepped back and let them return to their conversation and the food before them. He started to head back to the kitchen when he saw one of Grady’s bosses approaching the café. It was the one from Scotland, Duncan, and he looked worried. Benjamin sensed something was wrong and it involved Grady. Duncan came into the restaurant and quickly spied him standing near the front.
“I’m Duncan McIntyre from the Murray Orion-“
“I know who you are; what brings you here?” Benjamin asked.
“Can we talk, somewhere private?”
“Just a minute,” said Benjamin, and he quickly went to the kitchen taking off his apron. He was back within seconds, heading straight for the front door. “Let’s talk outside.”
Benjamin led Duncan down the sidewalk to the side street and away from everyone.
“What’s happened?”
“We had an accident at the center and we’re not sure what happened, but Grady got knocked out. We had him flown to Boston as a precaution.”
“He’s unconscious? How long?”
“Since early this morning.”
“Jesus.”
“Tests indicate there is nothing seriously wrong.”
“But he’s still unconscious?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got to see him. I need…which hospital?”
“I’m flying down as soon as I get back to the center. Would you like to accompany me?”
“Yes, yes, I just need to let Rachel know…Jesus, who’ll take the rest of my shift and…but I have to go.”
“Come on, let’s go back and I’ll talk with her.”
Duncan pulled around the center back to the private garage, pulling into his space. He led Benjamin through their private residence, their private research section, then into the main building, taking an elevator to the roof.
Benjamin followed him every step, eyes focused straight ahead not noticing his surroundings. He wanted to ask so many questions, but on the drive back, Duncan had told him everything he knew. Now it was just getting to the hospital as fast as possible. The drive to the center had been in the opposite direction and seemed to be the wrong decision. Maybe he should have taken off in his car and headed to the hospital on his own. He would have been almost halfway there by now.
The elevator came to the roof top penthouse and Benjamin followed Duncan out to the roof where he saw a large private helicopter with rotor starting to move. It was dark blue trimmed in silver and white and had no company logo on it.
“Come on, let’s get on board,” said Duncan, leading Benjamin to the open cabin.
They climbed aboard and Duncan closed the side door.
“Let’s get in the air,” Duncan exclaimed.
Benjamin watched Duncan fasten his seat belt and he copied him, securing himself in the seat just in time for the helicopter to lift off. It rotated around, then with a pitch of the nose down, seemed to dive over the side of the building, but the pilot quickly gained speed and altitude until they were well above the terrain, flying to toward the east, and to Boston.
Duncan made a phone call and Benjamin overhead him tell someone they were in the air and would be there soon. Then they rode in silence. It wasn’t long and the city of Boston came into view. The pilot swung south then curved back to the northeast, following the Charles River. Over Longfellow Bridge, then a sweeping turn to the right and the pilot was taking them down on the helio-pad of Massachusetts General.
“Go to the airport and wait for us there. I hope we’re flying back tonight, but if not, I’ll let you know as soon as possible,” said Duncan to the pilot as he slid open the side door and climbed out.
Benjamin followed him, across the roof to the entry doors in front of them. Inside the building, Duncan led him to a bank of elevators where they went up to one of the top floors, which one Benjamin hadn’t noticed. They went through security doors, then down another corridor until they came upon a room with several people standing or sitting outside of it.
“He’s in here,” Duncan whispered, leading Benjamin into the room.
It looked all wrong. Grady lay on the bed looking perfectly normal. No tubes in his nose or drip put in a vein in his hand. Just a monitor beeping in the corner. Benjamin moved to the bed feeling so short of breath he thought he would pass out. He clutched the rail on the side of the bed, knuckles white with his tight grip.
“Oh, Grady, what’s happened?” Benjamin uttered.
“He seems to be in some kind of deep sleep,” said Corbett.
Benjamin looked over, realizing Corbett was in a chair in the corner, holding Grady’s chart.
“How?” Benjamin asked.
“I think it was an electromagnetic wave…field…or…I’m not sure,” Corbett uttered, the frustration evident in his voice.
“We want you to talk to him. Maybe it’ll help,” said Duncan, moving to stand next to Benjamin. “Come on, Corbett, let’s give him some privacy.”
“Grady…I don’t know if you can hear me,” said Benjamin, voice quivering. He took Grady’s hand and leaned close. “You’ve got to wake up. Please. I don’t know what happened but you’re okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. You just have to wake up.”
Grady lay still, unmoving. Benjamin had a moment of despair, then he grew determined. He leaned down until his lips almost touched Grady’s left ear.
“Grady, it’s Benjamin. It’s time to wake up,” he whispered.
Grady moved, just a small shift of the head, then he opened his eyes, looked up at the ceiling. He lay for just a second, then shot up gasping for breath.
“Grady! Grady! Just breathe. Breathe,” Benjamin exclaimed hugging him.
Grady took a few deep breaths then hugged Benjamin in a tight embrace.
“I remember,” Grady whispered, then he pushed Benjamin to stand. “Where’s Duncan and Corbett?”
“In the corridor.”
“Get them; we have to talk.”
Two Days Later
Sam watched the G700 being prepped. It was to take off within the hour heading to Tel Aviv, making a stop in Madrid. He didn’t know the circumstances, but knew it was for no dig or research. Corbett had been too serious in their conversation, too determined to get off the ground this morning as soon as possible. A quick glance at the mountains to the east, he looked at the brightening sky, knowing in about two hours the sun would rise above the ridgeline.
Corbett’s red Lucid Air rolled up silently and he jerked around, still struggling with the silence of the electric car. Corbett and Duncan climbed out, retrieved their luggage from the trunk, and headed toward him.
“The plane will be ready in about ten minutes. They’ve just capped off the fuel and doing a last check.”
“Good. We’ll get on board so we can take off as soon as it is ready,” said Corbett, moving past Sam heading straight to the jet.
Duncan stopped, watching Corbett walking toward the jet, then he turned to Sam.
“If something happens, you know what to do. Right?”
“Seriously? What is going on?”
“Sam, I can’t tell you, but you have the documents?”
“Yes, they’re still in the safe, and I know I’m to open them in case something happens to the two of you.”
“Good. I need to get on board,” said Duncan.
Fifteen minutes later, the Gulfstream G700 was on the runway spooling up the jets. It began to move, slowly at first, then it increased its speed quickly as it thundered down the runway, lifted off, and angled into the sky. It rose quickly. Sam watched it climb, bank to the left, heading east. He watched until it was no longer visible, then he headed to his office where he could track the flight while worrying about this mission Corbett and Duncan were undertaking.
Grady led Benjamin into his bedroom. He had never felt better, and ever since leaving the hospital the day before was constantly horny. He came up behind Benjamin and tugged the towel from around his waist.
“Again?” Benjamin asked in a jovial tone.
“Yes,” Grady replied pushing him down on the bed.
On his back, Benjamin watched Grady move over him. He spread his legs and when Grady was on top of him, wrapped them around the narrow waist. Grady kissed him, ran hands up and down his sides, stroking his skin, and pumped hardening cock along side his own. He felt the increasing heat between them. This stroking of each other’s desire. His own cock grew rock hard, and he felt Grady’s cock slide over his abdomen until the skin was slick.
“Fuck…Grady, stop teasing me,” Benjamin whispered.
Grady took Benjamin’s hands and pushed them down on the bed holding him down as he kissed him. Then there was a shift in position, Benjamin lifting his knees up higher and Grady moving down until he had his cock at Benjamin’s opening. A slow push, and Grady was half buried inside him. Then he began to fuck.
Hips moving with a steady rhythm, Grady pumped his cock inside Benjamin until so aroused he was close to release. He eased out and rolled to his back.
“Get on top; sit on me,” Grady uttered.
Benjamin rolled over and smiled as he climbed over Grady. He rubbed his ass over the hard cock, then raised up over it. He held it up and moved down on it, not stopping until he had every inch. Then he moved up and down, a steady pace, fucking his ass on Grady’s cock. He felt Grady’s hands on his thighs, fingers digging into the flexing muscle. His own cock flopped between them. He leaned back and took his cock in hand. Ass pumping up and down on Grady, he stroked his cock with the same brutal pace.
Benjamin came first, cum erupting from his cock and raining down on chest and stomach. He hadn’t slowed fucking his ass on Grady’s cock while he came. He kept moving, didn’t stop until Grady cried out, shoved upward hard, and shuddered with release.
Dr. Smirnov was driving a stolen military truck. The Russian 25 Ural was a 6×6 truck capable of off-road travel, and she maneuvered along the dusty narrow road that cut across the desert in Syria, closing in on her first target.
She traveled at night when near a city but during the daytime when in open terrain, relying on the military truck blending in, to the point no one paid attention to her. After crossing the Euphrates River, she got off the main roads and drove the unpaved roads of the desert.
It was midday, and out in front of her, she saw dust billowing up. After a few minutes the dark dot of a vehicle came into view that was stirring up the dust. It was heading straight toward her. She grimaced at the inconvenience of it but tightened her grip on the large steering wheel while increasing her speed.
She kept her eyes on the approaching vehicle as they closed the distance between them. It began to take form, went from black to dark green, eventually coming into focus. She recognized it, for she had ridden in one frequently back in Siberia. It was a GAZ-3308, and large enough to be a problem. She hit the brakes, bringing the big truck to a stop, dust concealing her for a few minutes. It was enough time for her to climb out and move to the front. When the dust settled, she stared at the approaching truck then created a swirling blue orb that hovered over it. She increased the orb’s size until larger than the truck. Not hesitating, not interested in toying with these soldiers, she dropped it to the ground. Dust blew up with the impact. When it blew clear, there was nothing of the truck remaining, only a slight depression in the ground where the orb impacted it.
She climbed back into her truck and proceeded to her destination, swinging around the depression with a smile of satisfaction.
The Gulfstream G700 was on approach for Adolfo Suarez Madrid-Barajas Airport. Duncan and Corbett were both on their computers, had been since taking off. They were searching their data base for anything unusual that would give them a location for the Russian heading toward the Middle East.
“Are we sure Jerusalem is the first target,” asked Corbett, sounding frustrated with his search.
“You know as well as I, that is what Grady revealed: Jerusalem, then Mecca.”
“Have you tapped into that spy satellite that looks in infrared?”
“Yes, and into a weather satellite too.”
The pilot told them to prepare for landing, making both look out a window where they saw the Spanish landscape below them.
Duncan tapped at the keys of his laptop, then he stared at something on the screen.
“Hey, I think I’ve got something. Look at this,” sending a link to Corbett’s computer. “It’s a satellite image from the Syrian desert. See that blue dot from about an hour ago, just north of the point where Jordan and Iraq come together on Syria’s border. It is there in one image, then it is gone.”
“Can we zoom in on that spot?”
“Yes, but there is nothing there…wait just a sec. To the southwest, a dust trail of a vehicle.”
“Out in the desert alone.”
“Wanna bet that is our Russian.”
“We need to get on the ground and into a secure place. We don’t have time to fly to Israel.”
“I’ll book us a room at one of the hotels nearby.”
“I’ll get us a car.”
Dr. Smirnov drove on a highway, one that cut below Al-Safa. She could see the dark basaltic lava field of a past volcanic origin. It contrasted sharply with the surrounding desert terrain. It meant nothing to her except letting her know she was in the southern part of Syria, nearing Jordan. She would cut through the northern part of Jordan, then somewhere north of the Dead Sea, cross into the West Bank.
She was so close she felt an excitement not felt since Siberia when she leveled that military base. That had been just a display of her power, a minor display. Soon, the world would see the full extent of it when she leveled Jerusalem. She would use her power to fly to Mecca and before a day had passed, both cities would be gone. Flying made her feel weak, took a lot of her energy, which was why she took the time to drive. It allowed her to visualize her plans, relish what she would do in bringing the world to war. But this close to her goal, she would push herself to the breaking point.
She considered waiting after Mecca and see how the world reacted. But she relished the idea of leveling Rome, it made her feel joyful, something rare in her life. She had decided not to wait but fly straight to Rome once finished with Mecca and take care of it too. She would bring the world to war like none in the past, no matter how much it may weaken her.
The hotel was near the terminal, but the room Corbett had reserved faced Barajas. Duncan closed the curtain as Corbett sat cross legged on one bed.
“Come on Duncan, let’s get this over with. We know roughly where the Russian is located so we should be able to find them easy enough.”
Duncan climbed on the bed facing Corbett.
“This seems too easy.”
“Like with the North Korean?”
“Yeah. Do you think we’re that powerful?”
“I think we have a capability that gives us an upper hand. That Russian has no idea we’ve been looking for them, or how we can approach them. I’m just not sure if their power can be used against us when we’re near them.”
“Maybe the spatial difference will shield us.”
“I hope so. They leveled that military base. There was nothing left of it.”
“Let’s do this.”
They held hands and the connection between them occurred immediately. The room fell from view as another dimension opened around them. They moved through space-time, then hovered over the region of Israel, Jordan, and Syria. Within the stark landscape they saw it, a glowing dot moving around the dark rocky region in Syria. Floating down they drew near the dot until they could see it was a military truck. It was moving fast down a section of road that was straight, angling toward the southwest.
“We can’t hesitate,” said Corbett.
Dr. Smirnov stopped the truck in the middle of the road. She sensed she was no longer alone. Someone was nearby. She sensed them. Them; she knew there were two, not one. She climbed out of the truck and moved to the front of the truck surveying the rugged terrain for signs of them. There was nothing. No structures, no vehicles, not someone on foot. She appeared to be alone. But she knew there were two people nearby. She looked up and gasped.
High in the bright cloudless sky she saw a distortion of space, a growing orb of fractured light. She didn’t know how but knew those she felt were within it. She pointed a hand toward it, bringing her own orb of disruption into being. It was so small against the other, but she would grow it, make hers larger, more powerful. She would overwhelm this thing that dared to interfere with her plans.
“Fuck, she’s doing something,” said Duncan
“I can feel it. No time to wait,” Corbett replied.
They focused on an area behind the truck, a spot out of sight to the woman standing in front of it. They unfolded the other dimension, doing so until it was as large as the truck.
The blue orb next to them turned red and they could feel the heat from it. It made them sweat and struggle with their concentration. They tightened their grip and focused on the unfolding dimension, moving it over the truck. She saw it and turned to react, but they moved fast, dropping the dimensional space over her, then quickly began folding it. The orb next to them glowed orange, then yellow. Electrical discharges struck the surface of their orb of space-time. They grew so hot it was difficult to breathe, but they increased their focus, feeling success was in their grasp. They folded the dimensional space until it was the size of a person, then half that, and continued folding it until it was a dot of bright blue light. The orb next to them dissipated, then disappeared completely. The blue light grew faint, then vanished.
Dr. Klava Smirnov had been staring up at that orb in the sky as she attempted to attack it. Then everything went black. She opened her eyes to a darkness, a sense of being in a void. There was no sense of direction. No up, or down. Was she breathing air? Was she conscious or was this a dream state?
Then she stood on ground. Smooth, slick, solid. She looked up and saw a spiraling galaxy of stars, larger than anything a telescope had every seen. She shivered from a coldness that felt within her body, and she felt exhausted. Without considering where she found herself, she lay on the hard surface on her back. She looked up at the brilliant sky, the endless stars before her, then closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. Her breathing slowed until nothing. She ceased to exist as Dr. Smirnov. Her particles seemed to melt into the surface absorbing her body until not even that existed.
Duncan and Corbett woke to find themselves laying face to face. Their hair was wet and sweat still trickled down their faces. They smiled at each other, each knowing they were successful. Duncan moved first, bringing their lips together. They kissed gently, then passionately, each so aroused from their bodies feeling such energy. It happened every time, but it was more intense this time. They tore at the other’s clothes desperate to get them naked.
Duncan pushed Corbett to his back and straddle his waist. He moved over the hardening cock, rubbing his ass over it. Then he held it up and eased down on it. Slowly, he opened for its penetration. Lower and lower, he descended taking inch after inch, until he had most of it inside him. Then he moved up and down, slowly at first, sensing every inch tug at his opening. He loosened to the penetration and moved faster, up and down so fast the bed rocked beneath them.
Corbett grew so aroused he had to slow Duncan. He sat up bear hugging their bodies together. The contact was hot, slick with sweat. Duncan moved slowly up and down within his arms, dragging hard cock over his stomach. He rolled Duncan to his back and took each leg at the ankles. He spread Duncan, opened him up for his fuck. He put his cock to the loosened opening and pushed, sinking all the way into him. He fucked with the same determination, the same brutal pace, unable to hold back. He watched Duncan stroke his own cock, while he piston cock inside him.
“Fuck…” Duncan uttered, then shuddered with release. Cum erupted from his cock spraying thick wads from neck to stomach.
Corbett slowed, moved down on top of him, smearing the warm cum between their bodies. He ground his cock in Duncan’s depths, worked his hips to pump it within him, until he too came. He shivered with each ejaculation, pushing inward with each one.
The shower ran hot, Corbett pushing Duncan under its spray. He ran soapy hands over him, more for stimulation than for bathing. He manipulated the half erect cock until once again rock hard. He fingered the loosened hole, slipping two, then three fingers into it. Then he went to his knees and took Duncan’s cock and sucked.
Corbett worked his lips along the long shaft and tongued the head. He kept up his manipulation until Duncan began to work his hips, pushing the cock deep in Corbett’s mouth. Corbett held still, letting Duncan fuck his mouth. Faster and faster, the cock pumped through his lips until Duncan cried out and filled his mouth with cum.
When Corbett stood, Duncan turned to the wall and pushed his ass out. There was nothing that needed saying. Corbett stroked his hard cock a few times, put it to Duncan’s hole and penetrated him. He held the narrow waist and fucked. Slowly, gently, feeling every inch push through the tightness as he buried his cock all the way inside of Duncan. He leaned forward, kissing the shoulders, the back of the neck, then stood and increased his pace.
It was just a fuck. A simple sexual connection between the two men, but it was everything to them. This most primitive thing between humans that gave pleasure, provided a distraction from all of the insanity of one’s life, and simply showed each other how much they desired them.
And for Corbett and Duncan it was much more than that. Soon Corbett held tight to Duncan’s waist and pushed inward all the way and came.
Six Years Later
Grady looked over at Benjamin. After hours of flight, he still couldn’t believe he had talked Benjamin into coming with him. There had been long conversations late into night. Arguments and questioning the why and what for on the move. Grady had struggled with keeping Corbett and Duncan’s secret. The things they knew shocked him, but he knew the source of the information, and Benjamin would never believe it.
He thought about his life with Benjamin, setting him up with his own restaurant outside of Wilmington close to the reservoir. How the research at the facility had changed after the events six years ago. The archeological department focusing on North American digs, and supporting the university in Glasgow, Scotland with their archeological research. His department continued with its research, collaborating with various universities, pushing the boundaries of man’s understanding of the universe. Their research into dimensional space, space-time, and the expanding universe had come to the attention of the layperson, with articles in various magazines and documentaries televised in various nations laying out their latest hypothesis. Hypothesis that Corbett, Duncan, and the rest of them at the center knew were not mere educated guesses.
He looked out the window at the rugged Andes Mountains, somewhere in the far south of Chile. Corbett said it was not the best place for the changes happening in the climate, but those hardships could be easily overcome. It was the turmoil between man that made this the best place. Somewhere far away from the traditional powers of the nations and their conflicts that only grew worse over the last few years. There were wars over water, food, and there was the simple imperialism, some nations desperate for some past perceived glory.
He thought about the place he considered home, the United States and how it had become such a divided society, so many having their fundamental rights taken away from them. Those with the power believed they were making a better society, one that they deserved, but the economy continued to spiral down for all but the very richest. The description oligarchy was used more and more often. Brutality had taken over policing that was supposed to serve the communities, and the country continued a decline in science, medical research, and every metric that defined a prospering society. China was the true world leader now, economically powerful beyond anything the United States had been. Russia was a shell of its former self, but it had never been the power it pretended to be, nor what other nations portrayed for their own political reasons. Other nations tried to rise, to fill the voids left by the old powers, but one crisis after the next kept them hobbled.
The jet banked left, then right as they descended and he could see the new center, the one perched near the top of a mountain. It was in stark contrast to the rugged mountain surface with its smooth white walls and large expanses of glass.
“Wow, so this is the new center,” said Benjamin, looking over Grady to look out his window.
“Yep,” Grady replied.
“Jesus, how much did this cost?”
“I have no idea. It is five times the size of the Vermont center and the location was a devil for the construction company. Duncan lived on the phone and flew down so many times to coordinate something on the site, but it is finally finished.”
The jet curved around the mountain, following the valley, and on the opposite side of the mountain, the runway came into view. It lay in the valley, just a runway and a taxi lane.
“Where’s the hangers?” asked Benjamin.
“In the mountain. Everything but the fuel storage is inside it.”
“And that is part of the center?” asked Benjamin, pointing at the small white wall and glass structure over halfway up the mountain.
“I think that is the airfield control tower and support offices, but they are connected back to the center through the mountain.”
“How many will be living here?”
“I have no idea. I know they recruited doctors, mechanics, computer geeks, and scientists from several fields of study.”
“An ark for knowledge,” Benjamin uttered as he sat back down and fastened his seat belt.
The jet descended, landing gear out, and touched down on the runaway already marked by many landings over the last few years. The pilots taxied them up to the hanger door which folded upward at their approach. Once the jet engines were shut off and the door opened, Grady led Benjamin down to the tarmac where Johanna and Carlos were waiting on an electric cart.
“How was your flight? We heard you had some trouble at the airfield back in Vermont,” said Johanna.
“The FBI showed up trying to stop us from taking off,” said Grady.
“The pilot just kept moving, forcing them to scatter, and once on the runway, he just punched it,” added Benjamin.
“Yeah, it was intense they way he got the jet up and climbed as fast as it would let him,” said Grady.
“Well, you made it. Come on, let’s get you settled in. Your belongings arrived this morning and they are in your quarters,” said Carlos.
“How are Corbett and Duncan?” asked Grady.
“Busy as ever,” said Johana, “they are in Santiago meeting with some delegation from Europe and China.”
“No doubt wanting our assistance with something,” said Carlos.
“Did you hear about the outbreak in Texas?” asked Grady.
“Yes, a terrible thing. And I’m afraid it has happened in Alabama and South Carolina too,” said Johanna.
“I guess we left just in time,” said Benjamin, in a tone the others recognized.
“Come on, lets get inside. It gets cold as shit when the sun goes down,” said Carlos, leading Grady and Benjamin to the cart.
As Johanna steered the cart into the hanger heading to a doorway at its back wall, Grady sat back and watched Benjamin take it all in. The Bombardier and one of two helicopters, the personal one for Corbett and Duncan gone. Over to the far side sat an unusual craft, one Grady had seen the report on it when it was acquired. It looked like part of a cabin, minus some top section and wings. There were two large propeller engines along each side of it. Grady knew what was missing was the airships inflatable section. It was the newest craft, one that used solar power and some battery backup for flight. It was no near as fast as the jets, but if what Duncan said was true, fuel would become very difficult to acquire.
It was another aspect of the new facility that Grady hoped isolated them from the world’s turmoil. The sustainable systems that powered it, solar panels, a wind turbine system in the next valley and a short distance to the west, down in the turbulent waters of the Pacific Ocean and the bays along the coast. He wasn’t sure where the equipment was submerged, no one knew except Duncan, Corbett, and the crew set up to maintain it, but it provided another source of electricity. Two of the systems were more than enough to power the facility, but with three they had redundancy.
“This is insane,” Benjamin uttered.
“Yeah,” Grady replied, but he thought it wasn’t half as insane as the rest of the world.
The sky was brilliant with stars, a constellation still new to Grady as he looked up from the window of their bedroom. The residential suites were along the top floors giving them the best views of the mountains and sky above. It amazed him how dark the mountains became as the sun went down, darker than those back in Vermont. He didn’t see a single light.
Benjamin came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, and Grady watched him approach in the reflection in the window. He smiled at how the towel fell to the floor as Benjamin came up to his back. Arms circled his waist, and he felt the familiar body against his back.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Benjamin.
“You. Me. Us,” Grady replied as he pressed back against him.