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Authors: Joshua David

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Nowhere

BOOK: Nowhere
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BY : JOSHUA DAVID

NOWHERE : A NOVEL             

Prologue : His Name is Steven             

Chapter 1 : The Night of Being Reckless             

Chapter 2 : Dr. Hays             

Chapter 3 : The Supermarket             

Chapter 4 : The Getaway             

Chapter 5 : The Shower             

Chapter 6 : Work             

Chapter 7 : The Mug             

Chapter 8 : The Pharmacy             

Chapter 9 : Getting To The Bottom Of It             

Chapter 10 : The Signal             

Chapter 11 : Hays' Office             

Chapter 12 : Richard in Jail             

Chapter 13 : Waking up In the Gas Station             

Chapter 14 : Shopping             

Chapter 15 : The Station             

Chapter 16 : The Standoff             

Chapter 17 : The Asylum             

Chapter 18 : Interrogation             

Chapter 19 : Time to Cowboy Up             

 

 

 

 

 

              “His name is Steven…”

              “I know Richard, you’ve told me about Steven before. Do you remember telling me?” The attractive female psychiatrist asked. Looking at her, she was somewhere in her mid thirties, only older than him by a few years, but definitely not over forty. Her wavy brown hair was long enough to go to the small of her back, but she had it pulled back in a professional looking pony tail.

              She had blue rectangular glasses, which sat at the end of her nose meaning she only needed them for reading. Richard figured she didn't enjoy wearing them since she only looked up at him over the blue rims and not through them.

              “No, I told you I can’t remember things like that, I have trouble making sense of things I’ve done, or said or people whom I’ve met or spoken to before.”

              “Tell me Richard, what does Steven look like?” She said without even considering his last response. It was as if she was working through some sort of checklist.

              “I don’t know…” Richard shook his head. I thought I would have told you that already. He looked out the window as if grasping for the answer to all his questions somewhere outside the glass. It was the kind that had all the little squares in it because it was reinforced with some meshing material. It wasn’t all that much of a bother though because there wasn’t much to look at outside the windows at the facility. One could either look out at the ten foot tall cinderblock wall that ran the entire perimeter, or within the wall, at one of the many unmaintained courtyards over grown with weeds and wild onions.

              “But you remember Steven? And you remember what you speak about with him?”

              “Yes, I always remember what Steven tells me.”

              “But you don’t remember telling me about Steven? You don’t remember telling me about what he says to you?”

              For a long time he just grinned at the doctor like she had just told a complex joke that took time to appreciate before responding.

              “Nice try Doc…”

              “What do you mean? We discussed it last week, I have notes…”

              “Notes that could have been fabricated, about a meeting that may or may not have happened. I wouldn’t have let so much detail about Steven slip. I keep that between me and Steven, that’s the way it is, that's the way it's always been and that’s the way it’s gonna stay.”

              He drank from a glass of water. He was leaning back in his chair at what the Doctor would consider his angle of distrust.

              “And of the events with the aliens?” She continued. “Is there anything to share there?”

              “For instance?” Richard sighed, not sure if he really wanted to perform these little tricks today for the man in the vanilla suit. He knew that he was there. He knew that somewhere, behind the tinted glass of that room, the man in the vanilla suit stood watching him and listening to his every word.

              “Well, for instance, are you still fighting the war that you spoke about?”

              “The war is always raging. We just might not know about it all the time here. I’m still part of the resistance, you people just have me held captive.”

              “And there are still aliens on Earth?”

              Richard leaned forward and motioned his hand for the Doctor to lean forward as well. The Doctor leaned in toward Richard, who began to smile.

              “Do you want to know something?” Richard asked with a whisper.

              “What’s that?” The doctor asked even softer.

              “Your superiors, the ones who run this facility, are aliens too. The man in the vanilla suit leads them.”

The doctor made a mock look of surprised terror and then she smiled. “How do you know?”

              “Because I’ve been a patient here a long time. It used to be a lot worse. The alien named Doctor Larson was far worse.”

              “How, Richard, how were they worse?”

              “They were the soldier types. The ones that are aggressive and don’t take no for an answer.” Richard leaned back now that the topic was more discursive. “There aren’t too many of them anymore. This place has been demilitarized and has become more of a research enclave for the aliens. That’s when the man in the vanilla suit took over, he just observes, he’s an overseer of the research.”

              “Research of what?”

              Richard looked toward the reflective surface of the one way glass. He wasn’t sure whether to continue on or to not say anything. Steven was no longer at risk for exposure, he was gone after all, and as for himself, he wasn’t getting out of this facility anytime soon. He stared at the glass and imagined the tall, slender, pale man in the vanilla suit standing behind it. He imagined his large black eyes swirling and storming with a hatred for humanity. Then he looked at the doctor who sat before him across the small white table.

              Her eyes had an innocent radiance about them, something that Richard had not seen in a long time. Perhaps she was so innocent that the invaders could not overtake her. Her purity was a natural defense to their chameleon like attacks. Richard supposed she could be trusted he also supposed that she just may be someone who would listen perhaps even believe. The only question was whether the risk of telling her openly in this room was worth it. The man in the vanilla suit would hear, and then they would all know, but did that even matter at this late stage.

              Richard leaned forward again and cupped his hand over his mouth. It was the only thing he could think of to try and prevent them from knowing what he was saying. But then, how could anyone hide in a place like this.

"You understand that if I tell you, it would be placing you at risk, don't you?" Richard asked with concern in his voice.

              "I understand what risk there is in getting involved with this Richard. It's why I'm here actually, I've weighed the risk and I’m willing to continue." She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded at Richard. "If that's ok with you, then I'd like for you to continue, I'd like to know the whole story if you'd tell it."

              “Research on humans,” Richard continued. “Namely the ones they don’t understand, the ones like me.”

              “And these aliens, like the ones that run this facility, they are left overs too?”

              “Those that got left behind when Wildman Mike Lightning left town in his shiny flying groove machine." Richard drummed his fingers on the table and then clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Humanity was saved that day…" He spoke like a veteran recanting the nostalgic details of an old mission. "The day Steven destroyed the signal and the K101 'The Hits' radio station was no more. After that, the aliens kinda scattered. The ones that couldn’t hide were destroyed, some others hid and are secretly awaiting the day that Mike Lightning comes back to give them new orders.”

              “And this Wildman, he’s their leader?”

              “Wildman Mike Lightning… he was the leader back then. Now he’s gone, so they are left leaderless. I guess that’s why things didn’t erupt into chaos when Steven destroyed the signal.”

              “Can you tell me about the explosion at the radio station?”

              “I think so… It would be better to have someone on my side. Of course, I’m only telling you this because I can tell you’re human.” Richard stared at her for a long time. He stared into her bright blue eyes searching for anything false, any telltale sign of a lie, but could find none. Then he looked upon her fair skinned face searching for any ripples or cloudiness that would be there if she was anything but human. Again, there were not the swirling clouds around her eyes and her face didn’t ripple like the surface of water. He continued, “I think I’m ready to tell you everything, I think you’re the first person I can actually trust.

              “I’m glad to hear that, Richard.”

              “They are backing off slowly, perhaps even dying out, but I keep seeing more and more humans which means that for some reason they are losing and we are winning.”

              “And is Steven still here, or did he die in the explosion. Can you tell me about Steven?”

              “I… I guess I can try, but if I tell you about Steven I have to start at the beginning.”

              “That’s perfectly fine with me, the beginning is good for me.”

              “Only because I can tell you’re human though, and … and I trust you.”

              The Doctor nodded. “Whenever you’re ready Richard.”

Richard began speaking about the events at the beginning, the events concerning Doctor Hays, the explosion at the K101 The Hits Radio station complex, the supposed disappearance of the DJ named Wildman Mike Lightning, and the mysterious man named Steven who was humanity’s sole representative regarding the AIA and the protection of earth from the invaders.

              “I had gotten myself lost on a decrepitly dark little dirt road.” Richard began slowly, trying to give the full detail that a story about saving the planet should have. One that was drawn out enough for the heroes to be heroic, and the villains to be legendary.

              “The radio went to static as I drove through the thick trees and underbrush, my body bouncing up and down in my seat as I jetted recklessly down that rough road.”

              “But you eventually found it again, the main road?”

              “Yea, I eventually got back to a main road, that’s where I almost got creamed by that big rig.”

              “Tell me about that…”

 

 

 

 

 

              “There has to be a road up here somewhere!” Richard yelled out as he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. Did the guy say left or right, that was the part he couldn’t remember. He drove frantically past endless rows of darkened corn stalks.

Richard put his brights on as the road in front of him straightened out. His windshield wipers swished back and forth slowly now that the rain had let up. There was still a haze like drizzle in the air almost like a fog. The tires bounced and splashed through muddy pot holes as he tromped down on the gas. He could feel the car surge under this newly given power. The front end of the car raised as his speed increased, which only allowed him to see even further down the small dirt road.

              “Just don’t lose it….” He kept telling himself. “Keep it steady and don't lose it in a ditch or put it into a tree or something.”

He was covering a story on recent sightings of alien activity in the region. There had been over two dozen reports of ‘strange lights’ in the sky above the rural farms on the outskirts of the county in as little as a week. It would make for a great story if he could capture the event himself. He had to get it tonight though because the timeframe for most series of sightings was around ten days. The ‘events’ would then tend to move to another part of the united states and Richard would be out of luck for getting anything on film.

He had plotted the locations of the various reports on his map and found that they all seemed localized to a specific part of the county. From the map there didn’t seem to be any way to get to the spot, but when asking directions at the last gas station, the clerk seemed to know exactly where Richard was needing to go. Now however, he found himself driving down a nameless road in the middle of nowhere on what had to be the darkest night he could remember.

              Suddenly, the main road appeared in front of him. He slammed down on the breaks and had to fight to keep his steering wheel straight as the tires tried to skid to either direction in the mud. He was going much too fast to stop before hitting the pavement of the main road and found himself having to make the split-second decision of left or right.

              At that exact moment came a new found danger, to his right white lights appeared from over a hill, headlights… of a large vehicle headed perpendicular to his own. Left was suddenly his only choice if he wanted to live, hard left.

              He jerked down on the wheel hard to the left and the car just barely cleared the turn without going over the opposing edge of the main road. The growing headlights were now in his rearview mirror and they transformed into the angry face of a huge semi-truck.

              The driver of the semi blared down on his horn, undoubtedly having to slam down on his own brakes to avoid a fatal collision. All six of the semi’s headlights spewed swirling anger toward Richard in his rearview. It didn’t take long, however, for Richard to get back up to speed and leave the semi honking angrily in the distance behind him.

              He drove for another ten minutes without seeing any other vehicle on the main road. It was the early hours of the morning. The time when roads were only occupied by those few poor souls needing to get somewhere at all possible costs.

              The glow of a small red light now entered his vision, but its origin was not from the road in front or behind the sedan, it was from the dash in front of Richard. He took his eyes off the road briefly to make eye contact with this small yet efficient symbol of things to come. The red glow was in the shape of a capitol letter E, and it was the last thing that Richard needed right now.

              Being that he was driving his own car, and being that he had owned said car for about ten years, Richard knew that when the dreaded red light came on, he had only about twenty more miles until he ran out of gas. In that amount of time and travel, he had to find a place to refuel.

              He did not slowdown however, in fact he sped up. If he had to spend the additional time pumping gas, he certainly wanted to make up for any handful of seconds he could.

              It was about 16 miles until he first saw the glow of the gas station in the distance, just about the time Rich was starting to get really nervous about finding a place to refuel. He slowed from his hellish pace, signaled and then exited from the main road. He pulled into the parking lot of the station just as the brown and white vehicle of a state trooper pulled out and onto the road headed back the way he had come.

              If he only knew, Richard thought to himself.

He pulled up to one of the pumps, shut his car off, got out and began to pump.

              The station was quiet at this hour. There wasn’t really any car traffic to be heard. The overhead speakers throughout the station quietly sang an old Buffalo Springfield song.

“Cause nowadays Clancy can’t even sing….” The speaker called out at a low volume.

              The fluorescent bulbs above hummed in the humid post rain air and bugs buzzed in thick clouds around their lights, still hiding out under the shelter of the gas station.

It was a slow old pump. The kind that chimed every time it rolled over a dollar. He was going to be here for a bit.

              He started to hear a noise, something that at first failed to alarm him. It was a low hum coming from the road. As his brain began processing what this newly discovered sound could be, his eyes suddenly completed the puzzle when a bright set of headlights rolled over the hill.

              “Keep going…Please keep going…” Richard whispered to himself, the pump still chiming every so often behind him. The humming intensified as the the semi came into sight, but then downshifted and became an even lower pitch. Richard heard the airbrakes of the truck hiss as it began turning into the station.

              “Crap.”

              Richard quickly pulled the nozzle of the pump from his car and hung it back up. His hands shook as he feverishly screwed the gas cap on and then darted toward the interior of the gas station.

              He got inside just as the semi pulled up to one of the green diesel pumps on the other end of the station. He watched from the safety of the store, trying to hide his face a little behind the first aisle. He peered from between a box of little bags of Corn Nuts and a shelf of Teriyaki flavored beef jerky.

              He quickly realized there would be no sanctuary from the driver of the semi, as the man leapt down from the big rig and began advancing toward the store. He was a large burly bearded man with charcoal grey hair. He wore a tattered plaid blue flannel shirt, blue jeans and a faded camouflage trucker hat. Most of all, he had a pissed off look on his face and he was headed Richard’s direction.

              “Where are your restrooms?” Richard asked in a frantic, panicky tone toward the scruffy pothead of a clerk behind the counter.

              “Uhh, back by the big red sign that says restrooms…” the clerk answered.

              Richard took off toward the back of the store almost knocking over a wire rack full of powdered donuts. He jetted down the small hallway by the red sign. He was back by the store room and the back of the refrigerator units of the store. There was a small white door that led to the only bathroom.

              Richard went inside, flipped on the light, and shut and locked the door behind him. He stood there for a moment listening to see if he would hear the trucker enter the store.

              He heard nothing for a moment, then suddenly there came loud footsteps down the hallway.

              Someone began pounding ferociously at the door, and Richard knew that it had to be the trucker.

              “You’re gonna kill somebody driving like that! You almost ran me off the road you maniac! Get out here and face me like a man you coward, if I have to break down this door, I’ll pound your face in.”

              He thrashed and pounded on the tiny white door. Richard was afraid that the tiny brass colored bar latch might give way at any moment and the trucker would barrel in after him fists first. He was panicked, and felt like he was suffocating in the small, poorly ventilated white bathroom. He began crying.

              “I’m sorry Sir….!” he yelled and the trucker momentarily stopped his banging, perhaps surprised that Richard would even say anything. “I’m sorry for almost running you off the road. I really am, but I have to get somewhere quickly before someone catches up to me. I know you don’t understand what I’m talking about, but I really have to get going. So…please… please just go away!”

              “Yea, I bet you’re sorry! You little coward! It could have just as easily been a little zippy mini van with a family in it. It could have been a lot worse. You deserve to get your teeth kicked in! Now get out here!”

              “No!” Richard yelled “Go away! Go away!! I have to leave, I can’t stop. You have to go now, so that I can go!”

              There was no response…

              Richard stood up and pressed his ear to the door to try to hear if the trucker was still out there. He heard nothing, then he briefly heard breathing. He heard the doorknob cycle back as if the trucker had let go. He listened harder to hear footsteps of the trucker walking away, but couldn’t hear anything except a low rhythmic breathing.

              The trucker was still out there, he knew it. He was probably waiting for him quietly just outside the door, hoping that Richard would take the bait of silence and come out to a face pounding.

              Richard sat back on the commode and cried silently. He was paralyzed in fear. He couldn’t leave because of the trucker, but he couldn’t stay because… because of Them. He couldn’t let them find him, especially in a place like this, cornered with nowhere to run. He waited and waited, perhaps for ten or fifteen minutes, hoping to hear the trucker stomping off in defeat, but he just heard the rhythmic breathing. He couldn’t put the noise out of his ears, it was all he could hear from beyond the little white door.

              Then shivers went up his spine as on the side of the wall he noticed someone had written the words; “They know this place…”

              He had to get out, and get farther away… even if it meant taking a beating.

              He looked around for something that he could use perhaps as a weapon. If he could just over power the trucker in the hallway, he might be able to run back to his car fast enough to get away….

              There was a sink, a toilet, and a roll of toilet paper, nothing more. There was nothing really that could be used, except for maybe the toilet seat. Richard frantically pried at the toilet seat until half of it pulled loose from the porcelain commode. With the leverage gained, he pulled again at the other half and it snapped loose from the plastic hinge. Richard now held a big white boomerang shaped blunt object.

              Could it be done… he thought. It had to be done….

He went to the door and again listened, he could still hear the trucker’s angry breath venting back to him.

              As quietly as he could, he slid back the bar latch with his left hand, while keeping the toilet seat cocked back in his right hand, ready to strike if things took a turn for the worst.

              He waited a moment and then gripped the door knob. Slowly and silently he turned the knob, knowing full well that the trucker’s eyes would be upon it from the other side watching it turn. He imagined the trucker silently waiting for the opportune time to put his shoulder to the door, stunning Richard so that he could beat the crap out of him.

              Everything was so silent that Richard could hear the springs in the latch compress as the knob rotated. Finally he got the knob cranked back all the way and could feel the weight of the door press towards him a little. He gathered his wits about him for a moment before swinging the door open ready to attack.

              The hallway was empty except for the stacks of soda cans and cases of beer that had been there before. He realized that the breathing he had heard was actually the cycling of the refrigeration units. There was no telling how long the truck driver had actually been there.

              Even still, Richard kept his toilet seat at the ready. He advanced to the end of the small hallway and peeped around the corner into the main section of the store.

              No angry trucker there either.

              He cautiously crept out until he was wholly between two aisles and could see the entire parking lot.

              “Hey, hey man, you gotta pay for your gas now before I call the cops.”

              It was the store clerk, but Richard could not grant him attention until he knew the coast was clear.

              A quick survey of the parking lot revealed that the semi truck and driver had driven on. Richard breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the toilet seat.

              No longer needing his disgusting white weapon, he tried to casually shove it onto a shelf lined with bread, however the screws on the hinge mounts made the task difficult as they tore into the plastic bread bags. Eventually, Richard was able to shove it onto the shelf far enough that it stayed.

              He went up to the register and gave the clerk forty dollars in cash, which he figured would cover the gas he pumped and some of the damage to the restroom facilities. Then he left the store.

BOOK: Nowhere
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