Coalescence (Camden Investigations Book 1) (11 page)

Mitchell’s
eyes grew fierce. “It’s going to be my job to get everyone else aboard with
this. I know you are a skeptic. But I would hope you would consider the outcome
of ignoring the alien’s request, Iris. Time is of the essence. The aliens have
been waiting a long time for this opportunity, and it’s coming up soon. I can’t
wait for you to come around. And if you won’t assist, I’ll respect this. But
please, for the population’s sake don’t get in my way. I’ll need the others’
assistance . . .”

Iris hadn’t
observed Mitchell like this, such fervor. She recalled her last meeting with
Ron. He had grown aggressive and determined from his contact with the spheres.
She could only hope Mitchell’s behavior wasn’t somehow affected as well.

“Mitchell, I
agree to present any comments with civility, but please recall your own rules
for fair arguing. I might oppose you, but if I’m in the minority—as I
believe I will be—I will only be correct by a small percentage. I’m sure
whatever I have to say wouldn’t affect the majority.”

“I’ll
respect that. I really don’t want us divided, and I’m sorry for being harsh. My
very being just feels my interpretation is just. For me, this validates all my
life’s work. I am here for a purpose.”

“I already
believe you are here for a purpose. Yet you must temper your enthusiasm.
Sometimes when we hear someone say the words we have been waiting for all our
lives, we will validate their arguments without scrutiny. I just want you to
consider that, regardless of our friendship.”

“You’re a
great woman, Iris. Whatever your decision is, it won’t affect my ultimate
opinion of you. I love—I love the way you stand up for your principles.
But we better talk about this later.” He tapped her shoulder.

Iris glanced
toward the threatening makeshift conference room that had once been only a
living area. “I know, the meeting. This is bigger than both of us.” Iris
smiled. She believed deep down there would be some resolution for their
relationship. Hopefully, it would be positive. Yet her very words echoed in her
mind, threatening her resolve with a tinge of doubt.
This is bigger than
both of us
 . . .

D
ARIAN
INQUIRED
why the alien chose to give his presentation via movie
screen.

Mitchell
tapped a pen on paper. “He didn’t come right out and say it. But think of the
way we gather information today. Everything from a screen, be it laptop, iPad,
phone, or TV. I think he wanted to accommodate us. Make it easier for us to
digest.”

Iris balled
her fist underneath the table. No one seemed to argue that the accommodation
Mitchell spoke of was another way the being might manipulate, pretend to be a
trusted data source. She couldn’t be the only one to oppose him. As a leader,
she knew majorities ruled.

Evan agreed
that a confidentiality agreement with the presence made perfect sense. “We
can’t trust our leaders to do what’s in the best interest—at least not
for the masses.”

Kassidy
seated opposite Evan nodded. “That is something I think we all can agree on.”

Iris
exhaled. She couldn’t even share her father’s work with her best friend,
Kassidy. If she had, would Kassidy still hold this opinion? She resisted the
urge to give up her father’s clandestine operations. She was certain he handled
advanced tech that often changed society. Her new phone was just one example.
But for Iris, a Smartphone didn’t scream reverse engineering. Yet if push came
to shove, she just might reveal what her father had been up to all these years,
especially if it meant keeping the people in this room from harm.

Iris
observed Gavin while he too was busy observing, evaluating. His eyes searched
every speaker. He seemed to take note of body language by the shifts in his
gaze. She believed Gavin might still harbor some doubts about believing the
presence’s story. He directed a comment toward her.

“Iris,
you’ve been pretty quiet for someone who has seen the alien’s world through his
eyes. Do you believe his only motivation is revenge? Was he philanthropic in
manner or in his tone in anyway?” He broke his gaze with her and continued
scribbling notes.

“I do
believe the presence—whatever it is—has motivation and real anger.
Yet I question what I saw through his eyes was real or manufactured. He was
linked to us via our subconscious. Our minds work differently there, from what
we perceive in our waking moments. What I mean to say is, thoughts may contrast
dramatically in the subconscious from the waking mind. So, I would conclude
that what I saw through his eyes is debatable.”

“You seem to
be suggesting he implanted experiences like some sort of brainwashing.” Gavin
sat back in his chair, disturbed by his own deduction. “DJ, you communicated
with the presence with your conscious mind. You’ve told us you trust what the
presence says is true. Has that opinion changed?”

DJ tugged at
the collar of her sweater. “I still believe this ghost to be from another
world. I trust its story. I can’t tell you why I do. It’s mainly a vibe.” Her
eyes were downcast.

Iris
attempted to see into her sister’s mind. It was the first time she felt any
kind of resistance. She couldn’t fathom why DJ would suddenly believe in aliens
wholeheartedly. Her father had employed the same non-belief tactics with her.
She still felt guilty for involving her in the investigation. She would have to
use tact with her sister to reveal more in time, but tact wasn’t something Iris
Camden felt she had in abundant supply these days.

Breaking an
uncomfortable lull, Mitchell announced a plan. “I think we can all agree the
threat of an engineered plague is terrifying. We seem to have the means to stop
it, if you can believe the presence. I am inclined to do so, having firsthand
experience with his past and motivation. I don’t think we have the luxury to
doubt him. If we don’t act, and the plague is launched, humanity may be wiped
out. We’ve seen an example of this in the cornfield. I believe the OBOLs are
intelligent and are working to convince us that the threat is real; whether
they are good or bad is another question. It seems the dial can cause time
slips in tandem with the OBOLs as evidenced by the odd video footage captured
by Kassidy’s video cam. I have read about natural power sources underground. It
seems sensible that those sources can assist the dial in completing its task,
making our skies safe. I also believe that all of us have somehow been chosen
to complete this task. I know Iris is skeptical. I respect her and the Colorado
Ghost Hunters. I want to thank them for asking for our assistance. I feel, and
I hope I speak for my team, we would be remiss to ignore this warning.”

Iris pursed
her lips and nodded. She would acquiesce without further opposition, for now.
She still had time to bargain, she reasoned. The presence was not specific
where the power source was. It would take time to find it, if it could be
found. But just as her tension alleviated, Evan suggested a means to narrow the
search.

“I know the
Hopi Indians are familiar with ruins in Arizona, specifically the Chaco Canyon
area. From what you’ve described, Mitchell, I believe that is where we will
find the conduit to power the object. I suggest we contact the Hopi Nation and
request a guide.” Mitchell nodded and jotted it down as a note.

Rachel
inquired why the Hopi would know so much about an abandoned area. Evan folded
his hands and answered.

“Some
believe the Hopi to be the descendants of the Anastazi tribe that lived in
Chaco Canyon some nine hundred years ago. I think they are our best source to
be a guide because Chaco may be their past. The Hopi also believe in end of
world prophecies. If I’m correct, they believe we are fast approaching the
fifth end time. That said, they may be able to validate—for the Ghost
Hunters’ benefit—that the alleged plague may be part of an apocalypse. It
might help alleviate some trepidation. In other words, it might help us reason
that the threat is real. Or, it might send us all over the edge. To be fair, we
are taking a risk as Iris warns. I may appear to be a hard, cold scientist
evaluating a means to save our species.” He cast his eyes downward and smiled.
“But on the inside, I shake with the same fears early man—and
woman—experienced. We are encountering the unknown. I will not deny that.
Yet, this is the reason why we must act to protect our species. For it is frail
and must be protected from the unknown.”

Iris
observed the others. All were content with Evan’s explanation it seemed. She
rolled his words around in her head. He referred to the human species in a
detached manner, phrasing “it is frail.” Why didn’t he say “we” are frail?

“S
O,
ARE WE
going to talk about where we stand?” Iris asked, her hands
rubbing up and down her shivering arms. Mitchell was halfway out her front
door; everyone else had piled into their rides by now. She wanted to stop him
anyway she could. Even it meant using their relationship to do it.

“I think we
have our plates full, so to speak. Maybe we need a break. Or, maybe it’s the
fear in me that’s talking. Evan is right. We should be scared and apprehensive.
I just can’t let the unthinkable happen. Right now, I’m only 50 percent
correct.”

“Don’t you
want be 100 percent correct, especially in a matter like this?”

“That is the
nature of our investigations. We may never be 100 percent.” Mitchell stuck his
hands in his jacket’s pockets. “About us, I’m not 100 percent right now. I am
troubled about your actions. I have to ask, if we weren’t involved, would you
have hacked your way into my investigation? I was supposed to be the tagalong
with your sister. You didn’t trust I could handle it.”

She balled
her sweater sleeve about her right fist. “I believe a leader of the group
should shoulder the blame, even if they aren’t personally responsible.”

“Yet I can’t
blame you, Iris. I have feelings for you. They are not eradicated. I have kept
myself distanced from people for fear of conflicts like this. A part of me
acknowledges your need to counter me, watch out for me. As for me,
investigating UFOs, aliens, that is my life, my career. I may only be a
photographer’s assistant right now, but I want to be a full-fledged scientist
one day. Sorry, I’m rambling. Bottom line, you can blame
me
; I should
have been stronger.” He emphasized his last words with his hand accenting every
syllable.

“Ah, you
couldn’t resist a Camden gal, could you?”

He scrubbed
a hand across his face. “No. I couldn’t. I can’t. But that aside, teammates
have to be able to trust each other.”

“Can we get
over this?” She wanted to reach for his hand but refrained.

“As you
said, the current situation is bigger than both of us. We need to make sure
both of us—in effect,
all of us
—will continue, if you get my
drift.”

Mitchell said goodnight and kissed her on the middle of
her forehead. For an instant, she believed he was attempting to open her third
eye. Maybe she did keep her mind closed because of her father’s influence.
Maybe Mitchell perceived more than she did. He may have had psychic abilities
all along and now they had come to the surface. For all her psychic ability,
the strongest impulse she felt guiding her now was doubt. She couldn’t actually
see anything bad happening as a result of following the ghost’s wishes. Yet
again, she hadn’t foreseen what the spirits would do to Ron. In other words,
she couldn’t rely solely on psychic intuition. In the morning, she would call
in late for work and visit the man she once considered to be not only a
lifelong colleague, but a lifelong partner. Her instinct told her it was the
right thing to do, paranormal considerations aside.

T
HEIR
OFFICE
didn’t appear to be a place of covert actions and deceit.
Florescent lights, upholstered chairs and desks adorned with computer
equipment. It was just a room.

Jack often
took note of this when plotting the
Organization
’s next secret
acquisition. He shared his office space with Will. Neither wore nametags or had
nameplates on their desks. Jack often failed to recall Will’s last name. It was
better this way, Jack believed, adhering to the
Organization
’s strict
policy of non-disclosure. Discussions about the job were to be kept to a
minimum and on a need to know basis within their Arizona-based facility. Much
of the building was underground. And if one had never visited the facility
before, it was nearly invisible to them, hidden by the Santa Catalina
Mountains. It had no physical address. Bottom line: you couldn’t find it with a
GPS.

Jack wasn’t
even sure if they worked entirely for the government. It was a branch, he was
told. He often forgot what the convoluted acronym stood for. He, like everyone
else, just dubbed it the
Organization.
But whatever the government’s
involvement, private funding clearly financed a large portion of the high-tech
research going on in the bowels of the facility. And when the new technologies
he helped procure came to light, his facility approved how long it would be
kept from public knowledge. He wasn’t sure why the private contributors were so
patient. Millions and billions stood to be made on any one patent. Jack could only
fathom that the control of knowledge ultimately trumped financial gain. He
surmised this knowledge was more powerful than money. It kept governments in
power and facilitated an agenda for global integration.

Jack never
discussed these ideas with Will, of course. It was non-specific to their jobs.
Despite Jack’s concern and confusion over the
Organization
’s ultimate
goal he was certain of one thing; he would keep everyone else on board in line
with their agenda. The
Organization
saved him. Years earlier he’d drunk
too much, racked up more debt than he could ever pay, and left his wife. He’d
felt as if he existed as a shadow. He answered an advertisement. It was vague.
But it made him feel as if being a shadow wasn’t such a bad thing if you served
a greater whole. He would have continued to waste his life on the pursuit of
material things and distractions such as alcohol and drugs if he hadn’t found
his purpose. The
Organization
gave this to him. It had saved his life.
He would be its shepherd.

Jack was concerned
about the man who worked across the hallway named Dan Camden. Seemed dedicated
enough; hell, they’d even put in a chip in his brain to
guide
him. But
lately, Dan seemed too quiet even for such a hush-hush operation. Will had even
asked Jack what was wrong with the man he had dubbed “Cyborg Man.” “Who the
fuck does he think he is,” Will had quipped just the other day, “the
Six
Million Dollar Man
?”

Jack didn’t
laugh at Will’s bad and hurtful joke. He dug deeper and inquired why Will felt
such strong emotion. These kinds of feelings had to be harnessed. They created
ill will and before you knew it they distracted from their objectives:
Acquisition and Containment. These objectives were bigger than any one person
or even any one group of people. Jack didn’t need department heads to instill
this notion in him. He wouldn’t lose his purpose to some stray idea or thought.
He couldn’t fathom why he might ever succumb to such diversions. The fate of
humanity could or would be always on the line. But Jack had a good idea why
someone like Dan would be distracted. He had a family—or more
aptly—once had one. Specifically, he had kids. These bonds didn’t
dissolve with divorce. He felt lucky he had left his wife before he fathered
any.

“So, Will,
care to elaborate on Dan’s so-called odd behavior?” Jack asked.

Will
shuffled a folder on his desk. Jack realized Will was attempting to avoid his
question. In a way, this was good. It meant Will prioritized the importance of
withholding information. Jack coaxed Will by explaining this wasn’t as much
about keeping personal issues under wraps as it was about observation.
Observation, Jack said, was how fellow employees could keep checks and balances
system in place.

Will joked.
“Kind of seems like spying to me.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t really
harbor any resentment to the guy. As far I know he’s dedicated as we are. But
the last week he’s been odd. Rushing to and from his office with his head down,
avoiding any eye contact. I mean, this behavior is necessary in the field. But
he’s one of us. It started to make me wonder if he had something other to hide
than field missions. I don’t know . . . it’s just a gut feeling.
Maybe it’s all due to that chip in his brain.”

Jack
motioned with his hand for Will to continue. “I am just wondering if Dan might
be involved in some unauthorized work. That’s all, Jack.” Will grabbed another
folder from a cabinet and plopped it onto his desk.

Wheels
turned in Jack’s mind. It wouldn’t be hard to access Dan’s computer. He would
wait until Dan had left for the evening and then hack into his system. Everyone
was networked. It was a gentle reminder from the department heads that whatever
anyone shared on computer could be monitored. Jack observed Will organize his
desk as he waited. He realized Will was well trained in deceit. He rarely
entered data on the computer, preferring to use paper files instead.

Hours later,
Jack’s suspicions were confirmed.

“Man, he’s
spying on his own kid,” Will remarked as he peered over Jack’s shoulder at a
monitor.

They both
read the notes. Some kind of object had been discovered in Colorado. Metallic
and balled shaped, it was believed to have fallen from the sky.

Will
scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe it’s similar to our find in Namibia.”

“You know
what that means,” Jack said to Will. “We’ve got to confiscate it.”

“Wow, I’ve
never heard of an operation involving family,” Will said, his voice distant.

“Our job is
bigger than family, Will. You understand this is just business.” He arched an
eyebrow for emphasis.

“Maybe he’s
going to handle it, Jack. Alone.”

Jack bit his
lip. He wouldn’t verbalize the thought that nagged him. But what if Dan would
ultimately act to protect his family? Civilians were to be kept from
discovery—at all costs. Now Jack wondered what costs the Camden family
might have to pay for the good of the
Organization
.

I
RIS
FIDDLED
with the tuner on her car radio. Neither music nor talk
show chatter could drown out the imaginary conversation in her mind. She
lowered the volume as confirmation. For miles, she and Ron conversed in her
head as she navigated the route to his home. What would she really say to him
when they were fact to face? How to begin? Comment about how bad she felt about
what happened or engage in phony small talk? After all this time, any
conversation with anybody could become awkward. More so in this instance
because Ron wasn’t really himself anymore. Not after he encountered the ghosts
at the Estes Park hotel. More complicated, Ron had been a potential love
interest. The parallels between Ron and Mitchell were obvious. As she continued
to drive, she wondered literally if she was heading down the same path and
incapable of correcting course.

Iris knocked
on his door for several minutes before he answered. She peered around at the yard,
wondering if he still lived alone. Just one car in the drive and some tools
were scattered about the side of the garage. The lawn was cut immaculately in
some sections while other parts were strangled in weeds.

Finally, he
answered. She did what came naturally to her.

She hugged
him. “It’s so good to see you again.”

He attempted
a feeble physical response. His hand tapped along her shoulder.

“I’m so
sorry I haven’t kept in touch.” She offered a non-verbal apology with one arm
extending forward with an open palm.

A wry smile
graced his face. Iris could detect no hint of that smile in his eyes. “Well, we
all know. Things happen.” He attempted to accentuate his entire body with his
hands. Iris bit down on her lip. She was on the verge of crying.

“You look good,”
she said.

He grunted.
“Uh huh.”

Iris
accepted his offer of a seat. She sat next to him, all but wrapping her hands
inside of her sleeves as if it would offer support to continue.

“You’re here
for a reason, Iris. I could tell it in your tone over the phone. It kind of
made me think about our investigations. You always had a hint of fear in your
voice. I respected it. It meant you took your investigations seriously. And
before we did the hotel, I thought we worked pretty well as a team. But what
did I know? I’m just glad nothing happened to you. And whatever you need to ask
me about your investigation, I hope you will consider walking away from it.
Before you or someone you know ends up like me.”

Iris
inhaled. She was surprised Ron had spoken as much as he did. He all but sounded
catatonic over the phone. But what he said was like a roadblock. How could she
even think about bothering this man? She surmised he was starved for
companionship despite his preference to hole away from the world. A quick inventory
of the house again echoed the state of the yard. Some dishes were sitting in a
drainer, others scattered across a less than hygienic kitchen table. Such
contradiction, as though Ron had a handle on things for most of the time before
slipping away into whatever abyss those red spherical orbs had either instilled
in him—or taken away from him.

She threw
caution aside and took his hand into hers. “Can you tell me how it’s been? I
mean, how it’s really been, Ron? Why did you disappear?”

He gritted
his teeth. “I had no choice in the matter.” She felt his hand quiver. He was
mad enough to spit. But she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. And even if
some kind of presence had a hold of him right now, she wasn’t going to retreat.
She wanted to rectify the past and make certain the people in her future would
never be impacted the way he had been. But she also didn’t want to simply give
up her investigations. If she did, what example would she be setting for DJ?
She had just begun to pull her younger sister out of a hole; the same kind of
dark well she was sure Ron had slipped into years earlier. There had to be a
way to keep Mitchell and Evan from their current quest, before they were hurt
as well. Yet she needed, for her own self esteem, to remain the lead investigator
of her team. Before Ron’s incident, it was clear he was encouraging her to do
just that. But where to draw the line was the question. At least it was with
Mitchell; courage had to be tempered with common sense. Mitchell was so certain
of the alien’s story he sounded as if he would risk anyone to complete its
request. Ron had never been such a loose cannon, and the very fact he shielded
his team from danger had proved it.

“Ron,” she
said, running her free hand along his shoulder, “would you help me by talking
to a fellow investigator?” His body jerked in reaction. Iris surmised it was
Ron’s subconscious response. She reasoned there was still a way to reach him
despite his inner demons.

She
explained how she and Mitchell had come into possession of a strange object,
its odd effect on equipment and subsequent meeting with the presence. “He’s
willing to believe this dial will stop an invasion. As an experienced
investigator, I need you to convince him to step back. He’s so excited to
believe he’s made alien contact it has clouded his judgment. I, on the other
hand, am still not convinced the spirit is extraterrestrial. You see, I’ve
retained a thing or two about what you’ve taught me.”

Ron gripped
her hand tighter. “I don’t think it’s necessarily me who’s influencing you.
Just a feeling, I suppose. But what have I learned from my contact? Not much. I
can’t even determine if those spheres have affected me or it’s all been
self-delusion. Maybe I’m just sick. Either way, what could I tell this man?
Obviously, he sounds obsessed with his work. The way I once was. I learned to
step away . . . dammit! I
had
to step away!” Ron released
her hand.

Iris peered
into Ron’s eyes. Was he simply contracting from the population because of a
sick mind, or was there some other imperative? His last words seemed to be
directed at some invisible entity. She stumbled on her first few words, but
managed to inquire if he had a feeling as to why he needed such isolation.

He fell back
against the sofa’s backrest and mopped a hand through his hair. “What you’re
asking of me . . . I just . . . I
cannot . . .”

Iris winced.
Shit, what had happened to Ron? Instinct screamed her friend really was
affected by something supernatural. It was influencing his thoughts. She felt
the blood rush from her face. Now she might be in the same danger. What if she
was already infected by her mind link with the presence?

“This is
important, Ron. Please tell me anything specific as to why you must keep
isolated. What has been
said
to you?” Her breathing had become ragged,
and she unconsciously clamped a hand around his arm, a gesture that seemed to
demand an answer.