Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold (21 page)

Halliday caught the irony in Palmier’s voice.

“Tommy Hartnett left the Skunk Drunk Tavern near Visalia two hours ago. He ran off Highway 99. The old man crashed head-on into a parked produce truck. He had a blood alcohol level above point two percent. It’s all over the local news.”

Halliday’s took the sad news on the chin. He had turned his cell off after he left Jillian’s house. “Yes, I heard.”

Palmier shook his head. “Then you heard Hartnett died on impact.” He nodded at the guy sitting by the door. “Tell Waylen that Detective Halliday is through here. Return him to his vehicle.”

Before Halliday left Palmier said, “Tommy Hartnett refused to keep his nose out of other people’s business. In the end he was responsible for his own demise.”

Palmier, Coulter, Altman, and the nameless executive all confessed guilty to his unspoken charge.

Halliday couldn’t help himself. “Although it won’t get out to the press, PD questioned a witness who swore she saw a green translucent animal escape from the back of the truck that Tommy ran into. I wonder what she saw.”

Palmier’s shocked expression was shared by all four men.

From behind a clump of trees Laurel watched the pickup trucks’ taillights carom across the hilly grade. She prayed for Detective Halliday’s safety.

The remaining pickup truck sat where it had stopped, behind the detective’s car. She could just make out the driver slumped in the front seat. She could not gain access to the pools in the cave without part of the gear stowed in the trunk.

She kept her eyes on the cab. A small amount of light, probably from the dashboard, lit the inside, showing the security man’s outline. He sat still.

The sound of opening the detective’s trunk in front of the security man would alert him.

Laurel crept across the road to the rear of the pickup. The blackness of the night contributed to her fear. She relied on the element of surprise.

She crawled up to the driver’s door and listened to the rhythmic sound of the man’s snores. His heavy breathing had fogged the window.

Laurel’s hand shook as she removed Detective Halliday’s phone from of her pocket. She powered it on as she slowly rose.

After taking a deep breath, she leaned into the window, holding the phone at an angle to her chin to illuminate her face.

The muted light roused the security man. He yawned. His tired eyes searched straight ahead, attempting to focus.

Laurel remembered the horror that gripped Detective Halliday when he first laid eyes on her. Her trembling fingers tapped on the window ever so slightly. The man froze. His head rotated slowly toward her.

Laurel watched his shaky hand rub the fog off the window.

He looked into her eyes. She contorted her features, making the worst face she could imagine. He stared for a moment, eyes searching her green semitransparent face. Recognition brought resolute fear. His mouth opened in a silent gasp.

The man’s terror frightened her. Laurel ducked below the window.

The pickup’s cab rocked with the man’s gurgling spasms. As he struggled, Laurel crawled to the rear of the pickup. His foot found the brake pedal. Red tail lights lit the area. The pickup’s headlights pierced Halliday’s car.

Laurel fled to the protection of the trees.

The engine started after several attempts. The pickup raced in reverse down the narrow road.

The man slammed on the brakes, causing the truck to fishtail. The truck whirled around. The illumination of the brake lights made the trees blush. The stench of burnt rubber filled the air.

The pickup caromed off a tree. It slid toward the ravine side of the road.

“Oh no,” Laurel cried.

She watched the man try to regain control.

The taillights blinked bright before they disappeared.

Laurel raced to the edge.

The brake lights served as a beacon of death. The pickup barreled down the steep cliff into the murky expanse with nothing to stop it.

The loud crack startled her. The pickup had slammed into huge gray boulders far down the ravine. The truck’s taillights were still illuminated. Unlike the movies, no fire erupted. Dead silence prevailed. The security man’s death must have been instantaneous.

Laurel stood, shaking. She had only intended to scare the man off, not cause his death. She brushed away tears as she forced herself to take action. This was no time to break down. The others would return soon.

She opened Halliday’s trunk and pulled out a rope, a claw, and a flashlight.

# # #

Laurel approached Deer Meadow. The cliff top entrance to the cave stood about a half mile away from the meadow.

Jillian’s words came back to her. “If something happens to me find a way to go to the cave to replenish. My journal’s there. It has the proof you will need to bring down Brad Palmier and Genevive Labs.”

Jillian’s spirit gave her hope while, behind her, the pounding feet of her Miwok ancestors spurred her on. Laurel wouldn’t give up.

“Deer Meadow,” the security man in the truck had said earlier to the man named Sam Waylen. She had often passed through this meadow in hopes of spotting the once prevalent deer.

Tonight, the headlights of two vehicles lit the small meadow.

Laurel’s transparency became a handicap in the dark. In her weakened state if she made a mistake they would easily catch her. She shouldn’t chance venturing into the light. She couldn’t resist the muffled voices that filled the night with question marks. Where had the men taken Halliday? What were they doing to him? What were they doing in this meadow?

She made her way along, hidden behind a row of trees.

A pickup truck shrouded her from the meadow. The truck’s headlights bathed the open field in light, creating a blind spot in her direction.

In the middle of the pasture two men wearing cowboy attire stood next to a large cow. Next to them, a table held electronic gear.

Genevive scientists.

The animal’s olive hue surprised her. It shouldn’t have. Genevive pursued her gift of transparency. Although they were light years away, Dr. Krabbi would never give up. She had met the doctor a few times when she worked at the labs. His personality reminded her of a pint-sized version of the crazed doctor that headed up Area 51 in the movie,
Independence Day
. However, Dr. Krabbi was every bit as calculating and dangerous as Brad.

The two scientists were chattering away. Laurel had a difficult time understanding them. A stiff breeze blew their words away. She moved closer.

“Gennie, you fucking bitch,” one of the men yelled at the cow.

“You clean it up.”

“Fuck you, I cleaned up her mess last time.”

One of the men—they certainly weren’t scientists—gave the cow a shot from a hypodermic needle while the other cleaned up the pile of manure.

Laurel looked around. The men were alone. Earlier, the security man had said they were taking Detective Halliday to the cabin, wherever that was. Brad’s cruelty could not be underestimated. A real possibility loomed that she might not ever see the detective again. She couldn’t battle Brad and Genevive alone.

One of the men patted the cow to calm it. The shot must have been a tranquilizer.

“Doc Krabbi said not to give her two shots. Although it’ll accelerate the process it could affect her mind. ”

“Fuck you. This animal doesn’t have a brain.”

Laurel rushed back into the cover of the trees. The foul-mouthed man trampled through the thick grass toward the two trucks.

The man removed electronic equipment out of a black suburban. He placed it on a flat sled that slid over the wet grass back to the pasture.

They set up the equipment. Laurel’s curiosity won out. She moved closer in.

The technicians adjusted the many controls on the electronics. They must be calibrating the equipment. The cow stood motionless except for the movement of its jaws as it chewed on the grass.

One of the men aimed an electronic instrument broadside to the cow. The animal’s color turned a much brighter green over a circle about six inches in diameter. The patch of verdant color changed to a semi-translucent state.

For a split second the patch reached transparency before it extinguished.

Laurel gasped.

“Did you hear that?” one of the technician’s said, gazing in her direction.

She had slipped and fallen to the ground.

On the return trip from the cabin to Halliday’s car, Sam Waylen sulked. Halliday hadn’t been removed from the cabin on a stretcher.

To play with the security man’s mind, Halliday tried a new tactic. He attacked Palmier and company, labeling them as cowards looking out for themselves. Halliday complained that the reason he left government service was that he got sick and tired of being treated like a fucking peon by higher ups.

Waylen lifted his chin and grunted.

Halliday hinted that Waylen could do a better job than his boss, George Altman, an incompetent asshole.

“Nobody has to tell me how much of an asshole Altman is,” Waylen muttered toward the windshield.

Now that he was at Waylen’s level the miserable soul would respond. “I bet you’ve had quite a lot of experience supervising rednecks,” Halliday said, with no disrespect.

Waylen glanced over at him, surprised. “Yeah, I’ve had a long career in physical security. I’m no political asshole.” He grunted. “That’s probably why I’m not doing Altman’s job.”

“Although we’re not on the same team Sam, I hear you.”

Another grunt from Sam told Halliday why he had been placed on the “graveyard shift” at Genevive Labs.

“That fucking well-dressed asshole… What’s his name?” Halliday asked. “If I ever see baldy again I’ll smash that bubble nose into oblivion.”

Waylen snorted and said, “Nobody messes with
him
. That man has the ear of the Secretary of Defense.”

As if reminded that he'd said too much, Waylen remained tightlipped the remainder of the drive. A whistling sound of a loose fan belt filled the vacuum. Halliday didn’t mind. He had already learned what he needed to know.

Waylen dropped Halliday off at his car. The guy had a tantrum about the absence of the other security man, gone AWOL. Waylen cried out, “Some redneck son-of-a-bitch is headin’ back to ‘Bama tomorrow, if he’s lucky.”

Before he left Sam turned to Halliday and with an apparent new coat of redneck polish said, “Detective Halliday, I have a feeling that I’m never going to see you again.” He chuckled and added, “I’m rarely wrong on these accounts.”

With that, the security man stirred up as much dust as possible on his way back up to the cabin.

Halliday drove in the direction of Santa Reina until Waylen’s tail lights disappeared. He found a narrow turnout to turn around.

Halliday figured Laurel had gone up toward Deer Meadow.

Minutes later he arrived at the turn off to Deer Meadow. A soft glow of light caught his attention. He steered the Saab into a lush thicket off the road. He got out of the car and began walking.

The illuminated cloud above the meadow, similar to the cornfield the other night, put him on alert. He took a big breath out of the breeze that blew across the meadow.

Agitated voices in the pasture sounded an alarm. He went over to get a closer look.

“He must be over there behind the trees,” a male voice called out

Halliday stopped in his tracks. Two men were heading toward a stand of trees in front of him. They weren’t aware of his presence.

“I saw him behind the trees over there,” another voice replied. “Let’s go.”

Halliday saw a shadow move behind one of the trees ahead of him. Off to the left, the two cowboys—Genevive personnel?—were in pursuit.

Laurel raced out from behind the trees in a direction diagonal from where he stood. If he hurried Halliday could cut off one of the men. He had no weapon.

“You pursue from behind, I’ll get in front of him,” a voice yelled out.

Halliday saw the two men as they passed near the light provided by the vehicles’ headlights. The short, wiry fellow chased after Laurel. She struggled along. Halliday hustled in their direction.

Laurel stopped and turned.

She recognized him.

Halliday slapped his hands at her.
Go, go!

She continued on.

Halliday saw the other man—tall and athletic—stop and raise his arm. He heard a loud click. Halliday thought the guy had fired a tranquilizer dart at Laurel.

She showed no signs of being hit. Halliday rushed the skinny man from the blind side just before he reached Laurel.

“Don’t stop!” he yelled at her. The skinny guy went down easily. A dart gun squirted out of his hand. Halliday smacked him hard with his foot. The guy’s body went limp.

The other man, the size of a football lineman, dove into Halliday’s side, knocking the wind out of him.

“I’m police,” Halliday yelled out, trying to regain his breath. He slowly rose up.

Fear captured the brute’s face, but not because of Halliday. The guy gazed beyond him. His body froze. He backpedaled, retreating from god knows what.

The truck lights didn’t cover out to here. Halliday’s glance behind picked up nothing unusual.

The big man stood breathless, unable to take his eyes off the break in the cluster of trees that led back into the meadow.

“What’s going on here?” Halliday said, attempting to buy time for Laurel’s escape. The wind had shifted. He smelled a rank stable odor.

The man ignored him. The absolute fear in his eyes caused Halliday to shiver.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The noise of brush moving behind caused Halliday to lose speech. Jesus, had Laurel returned? Is that what had the man so spooked?

The noise turned into hoof beats from hell.

Halliday whirled around.

A menacing green luminescence came at him like a runaway freight train.

“Holy shit!” the big man screamed.

Halliday pivoted. He dove away from the mad cow. He rolled over as the screams behind him pleaded to the night.

An eerie quiet overcame the forest. Laurel must be on her way to the cave. Halliday jumped up and ran over to the big man.

The animal had trampled the man to death. Halliday found no pulse.

Gennie had apparently returned to the pasture.

The animal’s hoof had smashed the side of the man’s head. The other man’s moaning beckoned the animal’s return. Halliday thought he heard a rustling noise in the bushes.

Fearing for his life, Halliday raced in the direction of his car.