The Tesla Gate (25 page)

“How is that possible?” I asked, breathless.

“I'm not really sure,” Mollie admitted. “The best explanation I've heard is that the spirit guide can sometimes find a random door and just go up and knock on it and ask to speak to so and so.”

“Ask who?” I said and we both turned in unison to look at Esther. She must have anticipated this, because a moment before she bent down to pet Jackson, who had taken up station beside the bed. Her back was partially turned so she didn't have to look in our direction.

“I don't know,” Mollie said. “Best advice is don't ask her about it, it upsets her somethin' awful,” she said in a low whisper as she nodded her head discreetly in Esther's direction.

Mollie put her cane in her left hand and stuck her right arm in the air.

“Can you please help me up, Thomas? We all need our rest tonight.”

I stood up and gently took her hand. She pulled on my hand and pushed with the cane, with minimal effort she slowly rose to her feet.

“I expect we might have visitors in the morning,” she said hobbling toward the door, Esther taking position at her side.

“Who?” I asked.

“The military,” she said with a tone of “been there, done that.”

I swallowed hard, igniting the burn in my throat again.

“The military?” I croaked, my heart beat starting to accelerate.

“Yes,” she said, like she didn't have a care in the world. “They are after the Lieblongs.”

CHAPTER 27

Morning Guests

“There are three things in the world that deserve
no mercy: hypocrisy, fraud, and tyranny.”

—Frederick William Robertson

Mollie left the room before I could question her further about her ominous statement. I was exhausted and laid down next to Seth in the large canopy bed. The mattress was incredibly comfortable and soft, but in spite of that I lay awake all night. Why in the hell had she been so nonchalant about a subject that was extremely important to 99-percent of the souls in the house and below in the cave? Were we going to have soldiers showing up any moment with iron cuffs and chains? While the implications of her carefree statement troubled me, I believe it was probably the secondary cause for my insomnia. I spent most of the night thinking of Ann.

I couldn't get the thought out of my head about the prospect of still being able to talk to her, to communicate, to share with one another. I missed her dearly and there was still a massive hole inside of me that could never be filled again. I had been able to cover this hole to disguise it from my feelings by focusing on my time with Seth. But it was still there, brought into full relief by the hope of talking with my wife just one more time. My hopes were darkened, however, when I considered the logic of the situation. Esther would have to go back for that to be possible. This meant that the phenomenon would have to end, which means Seth would go back, too. As much as I wanted to talk to Ann, that was a sacrifice I was unwilling to make.

I awoke with a start as I felt a cold hand on my chest.

“Wake up! Wake up! The Army is here!” Esther said as she gently shook me out of the short cat nap I had eventually fallen into.

I sat up quickly, catching Esther by surprise and causing her hand to penetrate my chest a few inches. My heart felt frozen, which was only intensified when I looked over and saw Seth was gone.

Esther quickly withdrew her hand from my chest with a look of embarrassment like she had just seen me naked. She stood up and rushed to the door.

“Where's Seth?” I asked as I stumbled out of bed rubbing my cold chest.

“He's safe,” she said in a hurry. “Get dressed. I'm going to join him.” She pointed to the floor, which I took to mean he was in the cave. Esther paused like she was trying to remember something, “Oh, and you're Mollie's son today!”

I stood there staring at the closed bedroom door, dumbfounded. The shock of waking up suddenly and finding Seth gone, coupled by an Impal heart massage had left my head spinning. I was rudely shaken back to comprehension when I heard shouts and slamming vehicle doors outside the window. I ran to the window and looked down to the front drive.

Three troop transport trucks accompanied by as many Humvees had pulled up in front of Mollie's home. A dozen soldiers appeared to be combing the front part of the house. They carried a mix of automatic weapons and iron chains. My cold heart seemed to drop to my shoes when I thought of Seth. I didn't know for certain where the hell he was. I hurriedly got dressed and headed down the stairs.

I reached the bottom of the stairs to find Mollie waiting patiently, leaning on her cane.

“Well, good morning, Peter! I am so glad my son has come to visit me!” she exclaimed with a wink.

Before I could reply, there was a thunderous knocking noise at the front door.

“Open up, by order of the US Army!” a deep baritone voice called from the other side.

“Just a minute, officer!” called Mollie sweetly as she slowly hobbled toward the door.

Mollie turned the handle and the large door slowly swung open to reveal a host of soldiers, some brandishing rifles and some armed with iron chains and cuffs.

“Oh my,” she said. “Whatever is the problem?”

The soldiers did not readily offer an explanation; the majority entered cautiously and skirted past Mollie and me, their heads on a swivel as they looked for any sign of Impals. The large baritone-voiced soldier stepped in last and stood like a towering giant over Mollie.

“We tracked an Impal family here. Have you seen them?” he boomed authoritatively but respectfully down at Mollie.

“First of all, these people are souls, not Impals,” she corrected scathingly.

The soldier, in appearance, was a stereotypical jarhead with buzz cut blond hair and a square jaw. Whether or not his personality matched his appearance remained to be seen. I could now see he had the name “Sitkowski” sewn above the breast pocket of his uniform. Sitkowski leaned low as he spoke his next question.

“Have you seen this family of
souls
, ma'am?” he asked more delicately this time, putting emphasis on the corrected terminology.

“No, sir … I have not!” she exclaimed.

“Mind if we search your house, ma'am?” he asked like he hadn't even heard her answer.

“Do you have a warrant?” I interjected.

His eyes flashed at me, seeming to bore holes through me with his laser-like stare.

“Who are you?” he asked with none of the courtesy he had afforded Mollie.

Mollie started to raise her hand, but I answered before she could speak.

“My name is Peter Hartje,” I said. “Why are you inspecting my mother's house without a warrant?”

He gazed at me appraisingly for several moments before he replied. I had the strange sensation that he didn't believe my alias. I also had a feeling I wasn't going to like his answer, even though I probably already knew the answer.

“I don't need a warrant with an Executive Order,
Mr. Hartje
,” he repeated. I could have sworn that the last two words sounded more like a question than a statement. “You would do well to remember that … the penalty for treason is pretty severe,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone like he had just told me what he had for breakfast.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, knowing full well what they were after, but the question was drowned out by the sound of combat boots plodding up and down the stairs above us. My heart felt like it turned to ice and slipped into my stomach when I turned and saw a group of soldiers heading for the library where the secret door lead down to the cavern, down to where the Impals were hidden, down to Seth.

I turned to walk in that direction but I didn't know what I intended to do – keep an eye on the search for my own comfort, cause a distraction, or attack the soldiers myself. I didn't have time to consider my reaction, though; I had barely taken two steps when I was grasped firmly by the elbow. I was spun around abruptly and was standing nose to nose with a man about my height, wearing a black beret and green camo like the other soldiers. Unlike the other soldiers who were wearing berets, his was the only one that had stars on it—three of them, to be exact. I recognized the face, but I was in so much shock by his sudden appearance I didn't immediately put a name with it. After all, I had not seen his image lately, just heard him on the radio. So when he spoke, his identity hit me like air from an icy tomb.

“Please stay here and let the men do their work,” he said with a casual coolness that made the statement sound rather creepy. “Mr. …?”

“Hartje,” I said. “Peter Hartje.”

A look of bemusement washed across his face as he cut his eyes at Mollie.

“I am General Ott Garrison.” He nodded toward Mollie. “Your mother?”

I nodded my head stiffly as Mollie focused her eyes on the floor.

I had seen this man on the news. He was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the president's most trusted military advisor, the man who Lincoln had seen in the Oval Office, the one I had heard on the radio; he was the man who was probably most responsible for the government's treatment of the Impals. He had convinced the president they were a threat, and the Commander in Chief had naively let a terrible genie out of the bottle, one that now seemed would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to rebottle.

“Why are you here? We've done nothing wrong!” I demanded with as much courage and authority I could manage. I'm sure the general heard the fear in my voice because of his satisfied smile. I was scared, scared as hell, but not for me. I was scared for Seth.

He strolled to the nearby window and drew the lacy curtains back just enough that I could clearly see my SUV parked in the driveway. Fear burned in my stomach like acid as I looked at the Arkansas license plate clearly displayed on the back of the vehicle. I knew what that meant. How could I have been so stupid to not hide the vehicle?

“Is that your vehicle, Mr. Hartje?” he asked, jerking his head casually toward the window.

I said nothing. I just stared as coolly as I could back at him. I had to push Seth to the back of my mind to keep the fear out of my eyes.

“It's a nice vehicle,” he said, indifferent. “I used to have one myself. Pitiful gas mileage though.” He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Not very green are you, Mr. Hartje?”

I stared at him, not blinking and not moving. Nausea threatened to betray my cool exterior.

I heard books crashing to the floor in the library as soldiers carelessly tossed the shelves. It was all I could do to control my feeling of terror as the general stood there, X-raying me with his eyes. Were the soldiers about to find the latch that opens the secret door?

Mollie turned and walked toward the library. I was just turning to follow when the general spoke again.

“That SUV really gets around. I understand it was in Tennessee a couple of days ago?”

I took a deep breath; it seemed my heart was in my throat as my sore neck burned with every rapid pulse. I could feel a cold sweat beading on my brow.

“I wouldn't know.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, what would you know? Do you know, Mr. Thomas Pendleton?”

My heart rate went up a notch as I felt a bead of sweat cascade over my eyebrow.

The general carried on conversationally. This was worse than yelling and screaming; his tone sent chills through my body.

“It would seem that Mr. Thomas Pendleton, who happens to be the owner of the vehicle I might add, was involved in a carjacking in that very vehicle where an Impal boy was used to go in and help burglarize several establishments.”

I stood motionless, trying not to react, trying not to alter my expression, but that was getting difficult. Sweat was starting to sting my eyes.

“They never found the little perversion of nature,” he said.

I could feel the anger rising in me now, quickly swallowing up my fear. For Seth's sake, I couldn't let it dissuade all my fear. I needed a little to control my anger. I am not a violent person, but I could have easily punched the general square in the nose and not felt the least bit guilty about it. But that foolish and rash reaction would do Seth no good.

“That just proves my point,” he said. “These Impals are nothing but perversions of nature—
arrogant
perversions, I might add. They take up our space, with more and more of them coming every second. In just a few months there is literally going to be very little elbow room left in this great country without rubbing elbows with one of them. I can't think of anything more disgusting, can you?”

I said nothing, still staring stoically at him. My inclination to punch him in the nose had just risen to ripping his throat out.

“Well,” he said shaking his head like he was warding off a pesky fly. “At least we know how to deal with them.” He said as he patted a coiled iron chain hanging from his belt.

I could feel the anger blooming red in my cheeks and I'm sure the general saw it as well.

“Do you know, Mr. Pendleton?” he asked pleasantly.

I shook my head.

“Pity,” he said with obvious mock disappointment. “I was hoping I could clear up something with him. You see, the official report says that the delinquent little Impal was travelling with the two carjackers, but I think that must have been an error on the police report. You know what I think?”

I shook my head, fighting hard to keep control as my anger was starting to win out.

“I think the little punk was Pendleton's son, or should I say the foul remains of him. You see, he was killed in an automobile accident before the storm.”

“What difference would that make?” I asked angrily.

He smiled at me humorlessly and shrugged.

“None really, one Impal is like another … arrogant, deceitful, and abusive with their abilities. Abominations that need to be eradicated. It's patriotic to take them out. It's the American way to stand up and defend our liberties!”

“What about their liberties?” I growled.

General Garrison burst into such a boisterous bout of laughter that several of his men came back to investigate. After several moments, he took a deep breath and dabbed mirthful tears from his eyes.

“What liberties?” he chortled. “The Constitution guarantees liberties to living people, not sullied freaks. They don't even have real bodies, for God's sake!”

“You're wrong!” I felt like I was back in school retorting the taunts of a bully. My disagreement would just make matters worse

“No,
Mr. Hartje
,” he said. “I'll show you who is wrong.”

He grabbed me by the elbow, but I pulled away.

“Please,” he said, gesturing toward the library.

I reluctantly turned and walked in that direction with the general following close behind. The clattering of boots and men seemed to have quieted; in fact, it was eerily quiet in the house. That was nothing compared to what I found in the library. The soldiers were standing in a semi-circle around the room like they were waiting on something. When the general entered they all snapped to attention. The only thought running through my head was how in the hell he knew about me. They had just gotten there, for God's sake. He didn't have time to run my tags and collect that much information. They were after the Lieblongs, and running into me was purely incidental. Or was it?