Undisclosed (10 page)

He moved himself into a sitting position. He was still in the same clothes from the hospital; there were dried bloodstains on his sleeve and jeans. He raised a hand to his head and swiped his hair behind his ear. He gazed around. A door was ajar
. Well,
I’m obviously not being held prisoner
, he reasoned. He stood up and lumbered over to a dirty sink, cranked the handle and splashed water over his face, hoping it would clear the grogginess he felt. He smeared his hand across the dusty mirror that hung above it. He turned his head to one side and squinted at his reflection. Something wasn’t quite right. He slowly pushed his hair aside. There was no blood, no cuts or bruising; everything looked fine.

As he turned his head forward, in the far corner of the mirror he could now see the girl standing at the door. Startled, Travis spun around.

“You healed up well,” she said.

He noticed that she too looked remarkably better than the last time he had seen her, but how?

She wandered over to the bed, clasping a cup. Before she reached it, Travis made a beeline for the door. The door slammed shut a split second before he could reach it. He tugged on the door handle but it wouldn’t open. He shot a look over at her while she sat on the bed, tapping her fingers against the metal railing at the foot of the bed with a slightly amused look on her face.

Reluctantly, he gave up trying to open the door. He crossed back over to the sink as if keeping his distance would somehow protect him—all the while keeping a good on eye her.

“How do you do that? Is it some kind of party trick?”

“Oh—I thought you might need a drink.”

She moved to the bedside table and returned with the cup. Nervously, Travis backed up a few steps, pushing up against the sink, its metal ridge digging into his lower back. She moved closer to him and offered him the cup. Travis stood there frozen, just staring at her.

“It’s an Americano … with a lot of milk … that’s what you like, right?” she said with some hesitation in her voice.

“How did you—” he said. “Do you like … read minds or something?”

She arched an eyebrow.

Travis’s face went a slight shade of red. If she knew that, what else had she uncovered in the darker recesses of his mind? He shuffled to the side, trying to put a bit more distance between them.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to hurt you, Travis. If we wanted to don’t you think we would have done it by now?” she said. “Don’t be scared.”

Her eyes turned coal black, and she raised her left palm above the coffee. Instantly, the liquid began to lift upwards as if by magic, the coffee twisting like a perfect mini tornado. Travis’s eyes were transfixed on it.

“How? What?” He stumbled over his words, looking perplexed. “That’s … that’s not real.”

“Touch it.”

Travis hesitated and then swept his fingers through the coffee; he immediately yanked his hand back, shaking it and rubbing his fingers together. “No way!”

The girl lowered and closed her palm; immediately the liquid was back in the cup.

Travis watched as her eyes returned back to their original state. She smirked and then she placed the cup on the side table when he didn’t take it.

“You know it’s fine to drink.”

“Where am I?”

“The Black Hole,” she replied.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Jayde.”

“What—what are you?”

She stepped back, feet perfectly together, curling a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have a lot of questions.”

Travis raised his eyebrows at her. “You could say that.”

She turned. “Follow me. Jack will be eager to speak with you.”

Travis remained where he was. She stopped at the door and cast a glance towards him. She gave a disarming smile. “Well, are you coming or not?”

She led him through a short and narrow hallway. Metal shelves lined the walls on either side with degraded brown boxes, local newspaper clippings, seemingly useless junk and aged military surplus. The scent of electronic oil, mold, and surface rust lingered in the air. Travis had known about The Black Hole for a long time but he’d never thought to stop in—it just wasn’t his thing—yet the place was practically an iconic part of Los Alamos. As they made their way along, passing several locked doors, he couldn’t get over what he was seeing beneath the dust; discarded computers, card-punches, ohmmeters, indistinguishable machinery, old floppy disk drives, machines and nuclear waste were packed tightly against one another.
Who on earth would collect all of this?
he thought.

Jayde glanced back, observing him captivated by all the antique and irregular items crammed into boxes and shelving.

“That’s just down here, you should see upstairs.”

Travis could hear the sound of talking growing louder as they turned a corner and approached a large steel door that was unlocked. Through the doorway he came into a large oval room that resembled a NASA control center. There were three large holographic screens against the far wall, at angles; one showed a map of the world, lines and red dots scattered all over it; another streams of data; and the other a video cam of the outside of the place with smaller cams within it, alternating with different places in and around the town. Directly beneath them was a magnificent desk where several computers were.

Entering the room, Travis saw the others from the previous night. His arrival caused them to pause and look over.

“Travis, this is the heartbeat of where it all happens. I think you’ve met Mason and Lincoln,” Jayde said

Mason was standing off to the right in front of a steel grated weapons rack, cleaning what appeared to be the muzzle of a gun with a pipe cleaner, only pausing for a brief second to throw him a hardened, distrustful glance. To their left, perched on a table with a book in hand, was Lincoln, who smiled and nodded. Seated in front of one of the computers was a short, stocky kid with spikey blond hair. He spun around on his chair, smirking from ear to ear.

“The ones you haven’t met yet are, Ty …” He gave a quick nod.

“And—” she began.

“Hello, Travis,” a voice cut in from behind them.

* * * * *

Deagan entered the immaculate office that he grown to loathe. The smell of cigar lingering in the room brought back a rush of memories from his childhood, when he would spin for hours in his father’s chair while he was in meetings. It was rare to find him visiting his father at his place of business, never mind being asked specifically to grace him with his presence for breakfast. While never wanting for anything, he had become accustomed to an empty home, only seeing his father on the odd morning in a month—their time together would amount to either sitting in silence or enduring long-winded lectures on following in his footsteps. Conversations beyond that were left to text messages. It suited Deagan fine; the less interaction the better.

One of Kaine’s men was fumbling through the wall of books, while the other suits were pacing the floor.

What a joke,
Deagan thought.

“I gather you’re late because you got held up.”

Deagan took a hit from his cigarette and blew it in his direction. “No. I was just catching up on a rerun episode of
The Jerry Springer Show
. It’s fascinating. You should watch it; you might learn a thing or two.”

“Your father said seven a.m. not eight a.m.”

Deagan patted him on the shoulder. “Well, Wesley, you might want to get my father on the line then, as I think he slept in.”

“He’s in a meeting.”

“Of course he is.”

Deagan dropped his cigarette into the pot of coffee on the side table, grabbed an apple and threw it up behind him and over his shoulder, catching as though he had done it a million times. He took a huge bite and sank into the leather chair behind his father’s desk, slamming his mud-caked motorcycle boots down on its top.

“Are you aware of the unwanted attention you and your little biker buddies have attracted recently?”

He took another bite. “No—enlighten me.”

“Random abductions, cattle mutilations and human bloodshed are forbidden. Human abductions are only to occur when and where your father says. It’s what has kept us one step ahead. You know that.”

Deagan snorted. “Yeah. I know his rules.”

“And yet you completely go against them.”

“Yeah, see … I’m still waiting to hear where this is my problem?” Deagan threw the remains of the apple towards a wastepaper bin, purposely making sure it didn’t land inside.

“The survival and success of our work here relies on our anonymity. You have already put that at risk with your childish games. Your father wants you to cease immediately and focus on Travis Marshall.”

“Huh? Why him?”

“It’s not your place to question. Just do it.”

“Wesley, you might enjoy being my father’s puppet on a string, but don’t push your luck.”

Wesley bellowed, “Your father sent you in to LAHS to observe and report back on easy targets.”

Deagan swung his legs off the table and leaned forward. “My father sent me in to LAHS because he would rather deal with yes-men than those who would challenge his cowardly, time-wasting, mythological activities,” he spat out.

“You would defy your own father?”

“What can I say? No risk, no reward.”

“He’ll hear about this.”

Deagan lit up another cigarette as he walked out. “I’m counting on it.”

Chapter Nine

Travis twisted around to face a large, middle-aged, unshaven man dressed in dark pants and a brown jacket, his spectacles hanging around loosely his neck.

“Jack Hallman,” Jayde continued.

Jack extended his hand. Travis simply glanced at it before Jack retracted it.

“Right. Well,” Jack said, “I understand this can’t be easy for you. Travis, if you don’t mind, I would like to show you something.” He turned towards a circle of leather seats in the far corner. “Come. Please. It will only take a minute.”

Jack led him across the room and sat across from him in one of the leather chairs. In front of them was a granite table with a holographic keyboard on one side.

“Travis, did your father ever tell you what he did for a living?”

“Well, no, I mean I know he works at the Lab and was involved in the Genome project. But that’s all.”

Jack tapped a few keys on the table and in front of them shot up a screen. He swiped at it and various illuminated screens flew by with images and text, and then he paused and then pressed on the screen. “Here we go.”

A crackling sound could be heard, as if someone was fumbling around with a camera while it was turned on. A few skewed images appeared that looked out of focus and then Travis saw him. It was his father.

“You were right. It was her; I didn’t want to believe it. I still can’t believe it. How could I have been so stupid? ” his father said, casting a glance around him as if he thought he could be interrupted at any moment. “I thought I was helping but I was wrong. I’m taking a huge risk to get this information to you. You have to promise me that my family will be safe. I’ll contact you soon.” Scott’s hand smothered the camera lens, sending the screen into silent darkness.

Travis frowned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of what this meant.

“Your father sent us that over a year ago. He was meant to meet with us the night he was taken. Did your father give you anything?”

“No, I already told you, and I think you already know,” he said, anger brimming in his voice. Travis looked over at Jayde.

“So you know where my father is?”

“We have an idea,” Jack said.

Travis felt his blood boil as he slammed his fist on the table.

“Cut the cryptic crap, man. I’ve spent the last seventy-two hours being hurled in the air, chased, tossed around like a leaf and watching bolts of electricity and fire shoot out of people’s hands. Now, I know damn well it wasn’t the hospital coffee playing tricks on my brain. So who the hell are you people?” he spluttered.

By now, Lincoln and Ty, hearing all the commotion, had taken a keen interest in the discussion and had made their way over to the chairs.

“You think he’s ready for the truth?” Lincoln said.

“Was I?” Jack replied.

Jack took in a deep breath, leaned back in his chair and pulled a packet of Marlboro lights from his top pocket. He tapped them lightly against his hand until a cigarette fell out. He lit it and blew out a waft of smoke.

Jack stared at him for a moment, as if searching for the right words, and then he spoke.

“There is a lot you need to know before you can begin to understand what you have seen.” He stood up and crossed over to the computers. Travis paused a moment and then walked over. Ty double-timed it over to the computers like a kid eager to show his new toy.

“The men that took your father—the ones that came to the hospital—we hunt them. They’re called Watchers, though you may be more familiar with the term—” He paused for a moment. “Not of this world.”

They stood in front of the screen that displayed the globe and little flashing red dots scattered with lines joining them up. He nodded to Ty.