The Watchers (6 page)

The guard motioned for them to join
him. “Right now, I need everyone where I can get your names. Got to
separate the living from the dead.”

Dead? She glared at Devon who ignored
her. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. He
glanced at her and said, “Go on ahead, sweetie. I’ll catch up to
you.”

She stared at him for a moment and
asked the guard, “Some people died in that explosion?”

“
So far we have two
confirmed bodies,” he replied. “Come on. I can’t be over here
forever.”

Resisting the urge to slap the phone
out of Devon’s hands, she stormed passed him and followed the
guard, aware that Devon walked not far behind.

As she made her way into the crowd of
the parking lot, her eyes caught sight of a light post. A camera
sat at the top of it. She blinked. Then her gaze shifted to another
post. It didn’t have a camera, but the one further down did. She
shivered and crossed her arms, as if doing so would ward off the
growing sense of dread sinking into her.

It was quickly dawning on her that the
world she thought she lived in wasn’t anything like she believed it
to be. Aliens, Area 51, cameras, listening devices, being
monitored, lied to believe terrorist attacks were real when they
were being staged to sway public opinion, demons, angels, heaven,
hell... Her head hurt. Just what was real and what was an
illusion?

Chapter Seven

The phone rang. Devon rolled over in
his bed and tapped the snooze button on his alarm clock. Another
shrill ring echoed through the dark room. Realizing it was the
phone, he picked it up. “Hello?”

“
Devon Patrick?”

His eyes flew open and he sat up in
bed. “Yes.”

“
Code?”

He didn’t want to give it. He knew
where this was headed, and he hated it.

“
Patrick?”

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the
bed sheets and said, “834-712.”

“
You are due to report to
Dulce at 1500 today.” Then the man hung up.

A cold shiver snaked its way up
Devon’s spine as he hung up the phone. Dulce, New Mexico—a place he
wished he’d never have to go to again. And yet, General McHenry
gave the order. That meant he had to do it, whether he wanted to or
not.

He sat still for a moment, staring at
the mirror across the room. How did he end up in this nightmare?
Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. He could do this. He’d done it before.
It hadn’t killed him. At least not yet. Forcing his mind off of
what was to come, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom where
he turned on the water for the shower and the faucet.

He closed the door and searched the
room but didn’t find any bugs. So they hadn’t been back. That was
good. It meant they didn’t suspect anything. Maybe he was getting
better at this. He threw off his night clothes, wrapped a towel
around his waist and left the room so he could retrieve his cell
phone. Dialing a number he wanted them to know about, he also
grabbed a new bottle of shampoo from the linen closet at the end of
the hallway.

“
This better be good,
Patrick,” his boss muttered into the phone.

“
General McHenry called.
I’m due to report at Dulce at 3pm today.”

“
Oh. In that case, I’ll let
you live for waking me up.”

It was a half-hearted joke, and Devon
didn’t bother laughing as if he was amused. There was nothing funny
about any of this, but what could he do? He needed to obey
orders.

He entered the bathroom and shut the
door. The running water masked some of what his boss said, but his
boss would be giving him the usual spiel about how he was doing
what was best for the country. Devon set the shampoo on the counter
by the sink and waited until his boss was done before he thanked
him and hung up.

Then he retrieved his second cell
phone which was strapped to the underside of his sink and dialed
his doctor’s number.

Dr. Raymond picked up on the third
ring. “Devon, did they call you in again?”

Wiping his sweaty palms on his towel,
he said, “Yes. At 3pm.”

“
I’ll come by your house
Thursday night at ten and we’ll take care of it.”

“
Thank you.” He hung up the
phone. There. Dr. Raymond would remove the implant, and Devon would
know what the government planned to do to him this time.

***

Right at 3pm, two men in military
uniforms led Devon to the second level of the Dulce underground
base. He stripped and was weighed before he slipped into an
off-white jump suit and picked up his identification card. He
didn’t speak as the men walked him to a shuttle. The tunnel was dim
with only phosphorous units which cast a yellow hue over the
cavern.

He wasn’t supposed to remember being
here, so he refrained from getting on the shuttle until instructed.
He sat next to the man operating the vehicle.

“
Card?”

He presented the card which the man
scanned. Then Devon pressed his hand to the scanner to verify he
had the right to carry the card.

Satisfied, the man nodded and shifted
the shuttle into drive. “You’re due for level four.”

Devon closed his eyes in relief. Not
that level four would be pleasant, but it beat level six, which was
termed “Nightmare Hall” for good reason.

No one spoke during the ride through
the second level. When the shuttle stopped at the elevator, Devon
got out. As if on cue, the doors opened and the alien masquerading
as the blond woman in a blue jump suit waved him in. He hesitated,
briefly recalling the way Vanessa responded to her. Vanessa had
every right to shy away from the blond. He knew what her being here
meant, and he knew the blond took a twisted delight in playing cat
and mouse with him.

“
Come on in, silly. I don’t
bite.” She giggled and reached out to take him by the
hand.

His skin crawled at the contact.
Before she could deduct that he remembered her, he removed his hand
from hers, entered the elevator and stood at the other end of the
small space.

“
You don’t remember me, do
you?”

He shook his head. “Am I supposed
to?”

Giggling again, she shrugged. “I guess
not.” She winked at him before she pressed the number
four.

The elevator doors hissed and the
elevator gave a low hum as it went down.

He closed his eyes for a moment and
focused on his breathing. She could pick up on fear, and the last
thing he wanted to do was give her anymore power over him than she
would have once they strapped him to the table.

When he opened his eyes, he caught her
staring at him. For a moment her eyes flickered, and he blinked.
He’d never seen her in her true form, but he knew she wasn’t an
alien grey. Reptoid, perhaps? He’d heard Reptoid aliens lived at
level 5 and who-knew-what lived at level 7 on down.

After all he’d seen and heard, he
wouldn’t be surprised if they really did exist. He might be privy
to more information than the average person, but he wasn’t that
high up the chain. So many things were going on behind the scenes.
That woman he caught sneaking into the Bismarck capitol had no idea
what she was tapping into, and if she was smart, she’d finally back
off because if she didn’t, it was just a matter of time before they
came after her.

The doors hissed open and a white
corridor came into view. The blond got out of the elevator and
looked expectantly at him. What choice did he have?

He joined her. The blue door up ahead
loomed before him and the sense of dread in his gut twisted
tighter. Images of his past visits flashed through his mind. Some
things he wished he didn’t remember. Well, there was no going back
now. He knew too much. He’d done too much.

“
We’re going to have a lot
of fun,” the blond whispered suggestively.

Without another word, she led him to
the door and opened it. Slowly exhaling, he stepped
forward.

Chapter Eight

Devon woke up at 11:30pm. His heart
beat was unusually fast and his back hurt. Where was he? Anxious,
he glanced around and quickly realized he was in his bed, safe at
home. Breathing fast, he tried to sit up, but a sharp stab of pain
in his lower back stopped him so he collapsed on the
bed.

Dr. Raymond ran over to him. “It was a
real doozy this time, Devon.”

In that instant, he remembered that he
had gone to Dulce. He swallowed despite his raw throat. He’d been
screaming. That was the only reason his throat hurt as much as it
did. He choked back on a cry. What had they done to him this
time?

“
They put this in you. I
got it before it became a part of your spinal column.”

Devon blinked away the tears and
focused on the jelly-like implant with two dangling
limbs.

“
Whatever this one was, it
was alive.”

“
A-alive?” He struggled to
breathe through the fear coming at him full force. That thing had
been inside of him, wrapping itself into him like a parasite? It
was half an inch long. None of the other implants were that big
either.

The doctor turned to the dresser in
the bedroom and placed the implant in the box with the other five
implants he’d removed on other occasions. Turning his sympathetic
gaze in Devon’s direction, he asked, “Are you sure you want to know
what happened at Dulce?”

Devon dreaded that question. Finding
out meant he had to relive the whole nightmare all over again. Each
time they were done with him, they dropped him off at home and he
didn’t remember a thing. It wasn’t until that fateful day Dr.
Raymond gave him an MRI and found the first implant that Devon
realized he was nothing more than a lab rat. Gripping the sheets
beneath him, he steeled his resolve. He had to be strong. He had to
know what they did and what they wanted. He had to. Failure was not
an option. Failure meant someone would come up to his door with a
gun and a bullet.

He tried to speak but his voice
wouldn’t come, so he nodded.

With a heavy sigh, the doctor lifted
the needle. “I’m sorry, Devon.” He sat beside him on the bed and
held onto Devon’s stiff arm.

The needle went in with
little effort, and the cool liquid found its way into his vein.
Soon. Soon he’d recall the horror he’d just been through.
Be strong. You can do this!

Dr. Raymond pulled out the needle and
strapped a band-aid over the puncture wound. “I’ll be here in case
you go into another convulsion.”

Devon managed a slight nod.

The doctor helped him up.

Though he was weak, he made it to the
bathroom. It was the same routine. He knew what to expect. He knelt
by the toilet and waited. The sensation of a chill passing over him
was the indication he needed. He leaned over the toilet and closed
his eyes.

He could do this. He had to remember.
This was much too important. His life depended on him knowing the
keyword and the name of his alternate personality. So far, he’d
accumulated five separate personalities. This was his sixth. And as
long as he played along with his superiors, he was safe.

I have to do
this.

The chill seeped into his bones,
making him shake. The tremors started off small—easy enough to
tolerate. But he knew what was coming. He took deep breaths,
counting to ten before he slowly exhaled. This simple exercise,
he’d learned, warded off the nausea until the end.

An image flashed in his mind. He tried
to focus on it, but it quickly blurred back into the recesses of
his repressed memories. Not yet. It’d be a little longer. He
gripped the sides of the cool porcelain toilet. Within a half hour,
it would be over. The wait wouldn’t be long. Another minute or two
and it’d start.

His teeth began to chatter
even as he willed off the increasing cold. A slight amount of bile
rose up in his throat. He took a deep breath.
1, 2, 3, 4....
Behind him, the doctor
wrapped a warm blanket over his shoulders, and his nausea receded.
He exhaled. The reprieve was temporary, but he was glad for
it.

He waited there in the silent room for
a minute when the first clear image opened in his mind. The tall
blond woman stood over him. She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. It
was the smile a predator gave its prey before it struck.

“
It’s always nice to see
you, Devon,” she whispered into his ear. Her hand traveled up his
leg until it reached his inner thigh.

He struggled to get away, but he was
frozen to the table. Not again. He didn’t want to go through this
again!

The scene faded, and Devon’s eyes flew
open. He was staring into the empty toilet bowl and shaking all
over, despite the blanket or the fact that the doctor turned the
heating lamp on. So cold. Nothing could conquer the icy sensation
pumping through his veins.

A sharp pain under his fingernails
made him grit his teeth. He closed his eyes again, and this time,
he was strapped to a chair. Two men sat on either side of him. They
took turns digging razors under his nails. He screamed and tried to
wiggle his way out of the chair but couldn’t.