Attack on Area 51 (12 page)

He went up to five thousand feet and leveled off. All this time he’d been praying that his plan had worked—that his sonic boom had massively disrupted the innards of the S4 chamber. But what happened to the FCSF team within?

Once over Bald Mountain, he could see Area 51 in the distance. He immediately steered toward it. Smoke was coming out of the sides of the mountain, signs the S4 chamber was indeed in the process of being destroyed. All he wanted to do now was land and make sure his friends were okay.

But then, suddenly …

His body started vibrating.

The feeling …

Something was up here with him.

But what?

Then, up ahead … flashes of light.

Different colors. Red, yellow, emerald.

They didn’t look like explosions. They looked more like fireworks.

But, this wasn’t Detroit. Who would be setting off fireworks way out here?

It took him a few moments to figure out what was happening. Then it hit him. The flight path between him and Groom Lake was filled with … UFOs.

Twelve of them.

They were spinning and twirling, climbing and diving, engaging in all kinds of fantastic maneuvers.

Hunter knew these were the same objects he’d seen earlier inside the chamber; somehow they’d gotten out of S4 before the shit really hit the fan. But now he wondered: Were these really UFOs? Or were they something else?

They were soon zooming back and forth right off his nose, almost intimidating in their manner. At the same time, though, they never strayed from blocking his path to Groom Lake.

Almost as if they were … guarding Area 51.

That’s when he thought maybe these “UFOs” weren’t UFOs at all.

Because he didn’t get “the feeling” for anything other than aircraft.

Earth-built aircraft …

At least that’s how he thought it worked.

He put his theory to the test. He fired a few machine gun bursts at one of the objects, intentionally shooting high. As soon as the rounds went over it, the object moved so quickly, Hunter knew no human could possibly be piloting it. Yet he knew they were very “earthly.”

In fact, they were acting more like robots.

So when the next one came frightfully close to him, he lined it up and put a burst of .50-caliber rounds right into it.

The bright light emanating from the object suddenly blinked out—revealing an impressive, if slightly outdated UAV inside. A drone electronically dressed up to look like a UFO.

He’d been right. They were little more than aerial robots.

It made sense to him now. This was undoubtedly a ruse that the original builders of S4 had come up with to keep prying eyes away—or, better put, to keep them distracted. Whenever anyone unauthorized got too close to the place, just send up a fleet of flying things that looked like UFOs, and Area 51’s reputation as a repository for ETs would be furthered—and everything else done there, and other places close by, quickly forgotten.

It was a brilliant tactic of deflection simply because, UFOs were a lot sexier than whatever else someone suspected was being done at Area 51.

After Hunter shot at a couple more of the UAVs, the remaining drones disappeared into the night, destination unknown.

Finally, he turned toward Groom Lake.

He didn’t dare risk a radio call at this point—not with AMC forces so close by. He’d have to land to find out if—

Suddenly, his cockpit was bathed in bright-yellow light. His body froze. At first he thought another wave of memories was about to overcome him.

But it was something stranger than that.

He looked up and saw an enormous, saucer-shaped craft right above him. Where the hell had it come from? It bore no resemblance to the drones he’d just encountered. It was the size of a battleship and had
hundreds
of blinking lights all over it. And it didn’t look like a Hollywood version of a UFO.

It really looked out of this world.

It wasn’t dancing around or bobbing and weaving. The saucer-shaped craft had matched his speed perfectly and was flying in formation with him, making no secret that it was watching him.

Then, after just a few moments, as he continued staring at it dumbfounded, the gigantic vessel started vibrating—and then it was gone, disappearing straight up in a flash, moving in a way that defied all laws of aerodynamics.

Hunter was thunderstruck.

He’d never see anything like that.

Or, at least, he didn’t think so.

H
UNTER COULD SEE THE
first faint rays of dawn lighting up the sky as he set down at Groom Lake.

He was greatly relieved when an access ladder appeared out of the murk and JT came clanging up to the top.

His friend was grinning.

“Don’t you know Sabres can’t go supersonic in this universe?” JT asked him.

Hunter just patted the top of the F-86’s cockpit panel.

“Well, this one does,” he replied.

He climbed out of the Sabre and saw frantic activity all over the base.

The several hundred homeless abductees were being helped out of Hobo Hangar by FCSF troops and led onto the main runway.

In the distance, the first of the C-119s could be seen lining up for a landing. The five other Flying Boxcars were right behind it.

Hunter could also see smoke pouring out of many different places around the base itself. From below buildings, out of sewer openings, out of cracks in the nearby mountain. All indications that the massive fire was still raging below.

Ben was waiting at the bottom of the ladder. He gave Hunter a bear hug, and so did JT.

“Once I get my hearing back,” Ben joked, “remind me to buy you a drink.”

“I’ll buy you two,” Hunter replied, adding, “By the way, did you guys see anything funny flying overhead in the last few minutes?”

They both laughed. “Something funny? Flying around here?” JT replied incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding. …”

At that moment, St. Louis appeared. He too embraced Hunter and then gave him an update.

“The Stinger guys say the three AMC cargo planes are just twenty-five minutes away. And we can be sure that the AMC will be sending another convoy up from Nellis, too. Now we’re all still in agreement we don’t want to start a war with these guys now—right?”

Hunter nodded emphatically. Ben and JT did too.

“Time to bug out,” JT said anxiously.

But then Hunter asked St. Louis, “Do you have enough stuff from the AII to make the trip worthwhile?”

“More than enough,” St. Louis assured him. “But there’s something in that storage room that you’ve still got to see.”

Hunter was surprised.

The first C-119 had landed and the first group of homeless was being loaded in. The other C-119s were coming in as well. The area could be engulfed by AMC troops at any moment, plus a huge fire was burning below.

So why did St. Louis want him to go with him?

St. Louis anticipated the question.

“Trust me,” was all he said.

He led Hunter back to AII storage room.

It was practically empty. All of AII’s data had been recovered, including all of the strange artifacts, and put aboard the Mitchells.

But it was the big glass case in the middle of the chamber that immediately caught Hunter’s eye. It had been covered over last time he saw it.

Now the covering was gone.

Hunter took one look at what was inside the case and felt his whole body go numb.

“God …” he breathed. “Am I dreaming this?”

St. Louis smiled, and said, “If you are, then we all are.”

Inside the huge case was a jet airplane. It was long and sleek, and its delta-configured wing started up near the cockpit and went all the way to the tail.

It was painted red, white, and blue, and looked absolutely fierce, as if it were going many times the speed of sound even though it was standing still.

“Is that my plane?” Hunter whispered, “Is that … an F-16XL?”

It was a very rare plane—and it
was
his. At least at some point in his past it had been. Or at some point in another time and place.

But here it was, again.

That persistent vision of something speeding by him in a blur?

It had been this. This incredible flying machine.

His airplane.

Another missing part, found.

“We don’t know where or how the AII guys got it,” St. Louis explained. “But those things in the other displays came from ‘somewhere else.’ So we have to assume this came from somewhere else, too.”

One side of the glass case had been taken down. Hunter walked up to the planeand gently touched it.

That’s when the lightning bolt hit again.

Suddenly he started remembering the strangest things: falling into the ocean “somewhere else” and encountering immense naval ships. Taking part in a titanic war, much like World War II, but entirely different. Trying to save America by fighting battles far from home. He’d even had a different name; he’d been called “Sky Ghost.”

Then suddenly he was in outer space, fighting against a huge galactic empire. He closed his eyes and saw constellations. Star clusters. They all looked so familiar, as if he’d flown between them, going faster than anyone could imagine. And he felt there were people out there whom he loved and respected, whom he’d fought with. But who were they? And, more important,
where
were they?

He didn’t know. And as soon as he took his hand off the airplane, the sensation quickly faded away.

He felt better, though, because half of the emptiness inside him had been filled.

But what about the other half?

The mysterious blonde, the angel who was always waving to him?

Who was she?

Again, St. Louis read his mind.

“They asked us not force memories on you,” he told Hunter. “But if you remember this airplane, then you should also remember … her.”

“You know about her?” Hunter asked.

St. Louis nodded. Everyone who knew Hawk Hunter knew his longtime girlfriend. She was beautiful beyond words, a girl he’d met on the battlefield of Europe after World War III whom he’d loved throughout all the calamities that followed.

St. Louis said, “That flag you had with you when you arrived. Do you still have it?”

Hunter had carried it with him everywhere since getting it back. He took it out of his breast pocket.

“Did you ever unfold it?” St. Louis asked.

Hunter shook his head no.

“I didn’t dare to,” he said. “I didn’t want it to fall apart.”

St. Louis smiled. “Don’t worry—that flag will
never
fall apart.”

Hunter turned it over in his hands. It almost seemed too fragile to unravel.

“It’s okay,” St. Louis urged him. “Unfold it …”

Hunter did—and inside he found an old, weathered picture of the mysterious blonde.

He was instantly transfixed.

And finally he knew who she was.

Dominique …

His long-lost love.

“You see, Hawk?” St. Louis told him. “We had to come all the way out here to find your airplane. But her? She’s been with you all along.”

Hunter couldn’t speak for a long time. Then he turned to St. Louis.

“All my answers,” he said, almost choking up. “Finally …”

Dr. Pott walked over to them.

“Everything in here is an example of things just slightly out of time,” Pott said to Hunter. “And that’s what I think you are too, my friend. The difference is, now you understand it.”

Hunter looked at the picture again. His heart was breaking.

He said, “I know who she is. But … I think she might be … dead.”

Pott looked at Dominique’s picture.

“She might have passed on in some other universe,” he said. “But there’s a very good chance she’s still with us in this one. Remember: infinite possibilities. I’m no shrink, but I suggest you go look for her as soon as possible.”

St. Louis nodded. “I agree—but right now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

It took only fifteen minutes to move Hunter’s F-16XL out onto the runway.

He checked out its systems himself—and to his astonishment everything was working perfectly, as though he’d just climbed out of it minutes before. He lit its powerful engines, and they were soon humming flawlessly.

He couldn’t remember feeling such joy.

He and his kick-ass F-16XL—together again.

“It’s good to be back,” he said aloud.

By this time, all of the homeless people had been loaded onto the C-119s and the Boxcars were airborne. The B-25s went next.

Then Hunter took off in the XL, saluting the old, battered, and now-burning base as he rose into the sky. Ben was flying the indefatigable F-86 beside him. Way off in the distance, they could see the trio of huge AMC cargo planes slowly approaching in the early morning light. But the Football City raiding party would be long gone before the AMC paratroopers arrived. The mission was over, as was the bloodshed.

The strange collection of airplanes formed up and, as one, turned east.

It was time to go home.

Dr. Pott and St. Louis wound up back on the B-25 that JT was driving.

It was in the lead of the prop-driven planes. Hunter’s XL was off to its left, going slow and protecting the air convoy from any potential threats. Ben was doing the same thing in the Sabre, flying off to their right.

Pott had had a very unusual experience on the ground at Groom Lake. Even while battles raged above and below ground, he’d spent the time reading through the recovered AII data. He’d come upon some incredible findings.

Once they were safely away from the Groom Lake area, he started going through some of the written files taken from the AII storage room and stayed at it over the next few hours.

Finally he made his way up to the B-25’s flight deck and, in bits and pieces, related what he’d found to JT and St. Louis.

First of all, he confirmed that the AII team members had indeed been jumping universes.

But how?

“Believe it or not, they were doing it by getting ‘shot’ by the big ray gun,” Pott revealed to them. “I don’t know where they got it or how it was built, but that apparatus was not designed to kill people like the AMC thought, but to send them ‘somewhere else.’ ”