Ultimate Thriller Box Set (3 page)

“So you know I'm good at my job, and you know I could use the money.”

“More than that, Andy. You're single, and you aren't currently seeing anyone. You don't have any relatives. Business is going poorly and you're behind on your Visa and your Discover Card payments, and you've just gotten your second warning from the electric company. Your unique mind, so active and curious years ago, hasn't had a challenge since college.

“You didn't talk to the media after the incident at the UN, even though reporters offered you money for the story. That's important, because it shows you can keep your mouth shut. In short, by bringing you in on this project, you don't have anything to lose, but everything to gain.”

“Why aren't I comforted that the government knows so much about me?”

“Not the government, Andy. Me. No one else in Washington is aware of you, or of Project Samhain. Only the incumbent President knows what goes on there in New Mexico. It was passed on to me by my predecessor, and I'll pass it on to my successor when I leave office. This is the way it's been since President Theodore Roosevelt commissioned construction of this facility in 1906.”

Andy didn’t like this at all. His curiosity was being overtaken by a creepy feeling.

“This is all very interesting, but I don’t think I’m your man.”

“I also know about Myra Thackett and Chris Simmons.”

Andy’s mouth became a thin line. Thackett and Simmons were two fictitious employees that Andy pretended to have under salary at WTS. Having phantom people on the payroll reduced income tax, and was the only way he’d been able to keep his business afloat.

“So this is a tax thing after all.”

“Again, only I know about it Andy. Not the IRS. Not the FBI. Just me. And I can promise you that Ms. Thackett and Mr. Simmons will never come back to haunt you if you help us here.”

“What exactly,” Andy chose his words carefully, “do you want from me?”

“First you must swear, as a citizen of the United States, to never divulge anything you see, hear, or learn at Project Samhain, under penalty of execution. Not to a friend. Not even to a wife. My own wife doesn't even know about this.”

Not seeing an alternative, Andy held up his right hand, as if he were testifying in court.

“Fine. I swear.”

“General Murdoch will provide the details, he knows them better than I. Suffice to say, this may be the single most important project this country, maybe even the world, has ever been involved with. I wish you luck, and God bless.”

The screen went blank.

“It's aliens, isn't it?” Andy turned to Race. “You've got aliens here.”

“Well, no. But back in '47 we had a hermit who lived in the mountains, he found our secret entrance and got himself a good look inside. Before we could shut him up he was blabbing to everyone within earshot. So we faked a UFO landing two hundred miles away in Roswell to divert attention.”

Andy rubbed his temples.

“You want some aspirin?” Race asked. “Or breakfast, maybe?”

“What I want, after swearing under the penalty of execution, is to know what the hell I'm doing here.”

“They say an image is worth a thousand words. Follow me.”

Race headed to the Red Door and Andy loped behind. The Red Arm hallway looked exactly like the Yellow Arm; white and sterile with numbered doors, this time with the word RED stenciled on them. But after a few dozen yards Andy noted a big difference. Race had to stop at a barrier that blocked the hallway. It resembled a prison door, with thick vertical steel bars set in a heavy frame.

“Titanium,” Race said as he pressed some numbers on a keypad embedded in the wall. “They could stop a charging rhino.”

There was a beep and a metallic sound as the door unlocked. The door swung inward, and Race held it open for Andy, then closed it behind him with loud clang. It made Andy feel trapped. They came up on another set of bars fifty yards further up.

“Why two sets?” Andy asked. “You have a rhino problem here?”

“Well, it's got horns, that's for sure.”

Race opened the second gate and the Red Arm came to an abrupt end at doors Red 13 and Red 14.

“He was found in Panama in 1906, by a team digging the canal,” Race said. “For the past hundred years he's been in some kind of deep sleep, like a coma. Up until last week. Last week he woke up.”

“He?”

“We call him Bub. He's trying to communicate, but we don't know what he's saying.”

Andy's apprehension increased with every breath. He had an irrational urge to turn around and run. Or maybe it wasn't so irrational.

“Is Bub human?” Andy asked.

“Nope,” Race grinned. The General was clearly enjoying himself.
Didn't have visitors too often,
Andy guessed.

“So what is he?”

“See for yourself.”

Race opened door Red 14, and Andy almost gagged on the animal stench. This wasn't a farm smell. This was a musky, sickly, sweet and sour, big carnivore smell. 

Forcing himself to move, Andy took two steps into the room. It was large, the size of a gymnasium, the front half filled with medical equipment. The back half had been partitioned off with a massive translucent barrier, glass or plastic. Behind the glass was...

“Jesus Christ,” Andy said.

Andy’s mind couldn’t process what he was seeing. The teeth. The eyes. The claws.

This thing wasn’t supposed to exist in real life.

“Biix a beel,” Bub said.

Andy flew past Race, heading for the hallway.

“I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Mr. Dennison...”

Andy met up with the titanium bars and used some of his favorite curses from several different languages. His palms were soaked with sweat, and he’d begun to hyperventilate.

Race caught up, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I apologize for not preparing you, but I'm an old man with so little pleasure in my life, and it's such a hoot watching people see Bub for the first time.”

Andy braced the older man.

“Bub. Beelzebub. You've got Satan in there.”

“Possibly. Father Thrist thinks it's a lower level demon like Moloch or Rahab, but Rabbi Shotzen concedes it may be Mastema.”

“I'd like to leave,” Andy said, attempting to sound calm. “Right now.”

“Don't worry. He's not violent. I've even been in the dwelling with him. He's just scary looking, is all. And that Plexiglas barrier is rated to eight tons. It's as safe as visiting the monkey house at the zoo.”

Andy tried to find the words.

“You're a lunatic,” he decided.

“Look, Andy, I've been watching after Bub for over forty years. We've had the best of the best in the world here—doctors, scientists, holy men, you name it. We've found out so much, but the rest is just theory. Bub's awake now, and trying to communicate. You're the key to that. Don't you see how important this is?”

“I'm...” Andy began, searching his mind for a way to put it.

Race finished the thought for him. “Afraid. Of course you're afraid. Any damn fool would be, seeing Bub. We've been taught to fear him since we were born. But if I can paraphrase Samuel Butler, we don't know the Devil's side of the story, because God wrote all the books. Just think about what we can learn here.”

“You're military,” Andy accused. “I'm sure the weapons implications of controlling the Prince of Darkness aren't lost on you.”

Race lost his friendly demeanor, his eyes narrowing.

“We have an opportunity here, Mr. Dennison. An opportunity that we haven't had since Christ walked the earth. In that room is a legendary creature, and the things that he could teach us about the world, the universe, and creation itself staggers the imagination. You've been chosen to help us, to work with our team in getting some answers. Many would kill for the chance.”

Andy folded his arms. “You expect me to believe not only that the devil is harmless and just wants to have a chat, but that the biggest government conspiracy in the history of the world has only good intentions?”

Race's face remained impassive for a few seconds longer, and then he broke out laughing.

“Damn, that does sound hard to swallow, don't it?”

Andy couldn't help but warm a bit at the man's attitude. “General Murdoch...”

“Race. Call me Race. And I understand. I've been part of the Project so long the whole thing is the norm to me. You need to eat, rest, think about things. We'll grab some food and I'll show you your room.”

“And if I want to leave?”

“This isn't a prison, son. I'm sure you weren't the only guy on the President's list. You're free to go whenever you please, so long as you never mention this to anyone.”

Andy took a deep, calming breath and the effects of the adrenaline in his system began to wear off. Race opened the gate and they began their trek back down the hallway.

“The world really is going to hell, isn't it?” Andy said.

Race grinned. “Sure is. And we've got a front row seat.”

CHAPTER TWO

Breakfast was light but nourishing, consisting of banana muffins, sausage, and coffee. The coffee was the only thing fresh. The food, like all food in the compound, was frozen and then microwaved. Race told Andy that refrigeration had been possible since the compound was created, but the small group of people who lived here didn't warrant the constant trips to refresh supplies. Instead, two huge freezers were stocked several times a year with everything from cheese and bread to Twinkies and Snickers. Milk, an item that didn't freeze well, was available vacuum-packed.

“How many people are here right now?” Andy asked, stirring more sugar into his coffee.

They sat on orange chairs at a Formica table with a sunflower pattern. Green 2—or the Mess Hall as Race called it—doubled as both a dining area and a kitchen. The decor, save for the microwaves, was pure 1950s cafeteria.

“Eight, including you. The holies, the priest and the rabbi, leave for brief periods every so often. Everyone else is here for the long haul. Believe it or not, except for the isolation and the fact that you don't see the great outdoors, this is almost like a resort. We've got a sauna, a four lane swimming pool, a full library, even a racquetball court.”

“Who foots the bill for all of this if only the President knows about it?”

“Social Security. Now you know why the benefits are so low.”

Andy used his fist to stifle a yawn. The food was settling well and he suddenly realized how tired he was.

“I'll show you to your room,” Race said. “If you haven't had a chance yet, take the time to make a list of things you need from your apartment; clothes, books, whatever. I know you've got some things already en route, toiletries and such, but anything else you might need, just holler. That goes for things you might need for research too. We have a blank check here, no questions asked. Back in the sixties, as a joke, two guys asked for a Zamboni. Came the next day. Sure pissed off President Johnson. That man could curse like no one I’ve ever met.”

“I'm still not convinced I'm staying.”

“That's fine, but it's a funny thing about Bub. We've had people scream, faint dead away, become downright hysterical the first time they see him. But we've never had one leave without finishing their job. Curiosity is a powerful motivator.”

It also killed the cat,
Andy thought.

They left the Mess Hall and headed down the Blue Arm via the Octopus. As they walked, the door to Blue 5 opened and a woman came out into the hallway. She was petite, and the lab coat she wore was too big for her even though the sleeves had been rolled up. Her hair was blue-black and cut into a bob, perfectly framing a triangular Asian face.

Andy was immediately entranced. It had been a long time since he’d been in the presence of a beautiful woman. The last was his ex-girlfriend, Susan. Pre-Susan, he’d dated a lot. His looks were okay, but the ability to speak in dozens of languages was something women really liked. Post-Susan, he’d been a desert island. She’d taken more than just his heart. She’d taken his confidence as well.

“Dr. Jones, this is Andy Dennison, the translator. Andy, this is Dr. Sunshine Jones, our resident veterinarian.”

“Hi,” Andy said, smiling big. “You know, when I was a kid I had a retriever named Sunshine. I loved that dog.”

Dr. Jones stared at him, her face made of marble.

“Not that I'm comparing you to a dog,” Andy said quickly. “But it's a small world, both you and my dog having the same, uh, name.”

She didn't respond. Andy's smile deflated.

Race, who watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, cut in to give Andy a hand.

“Mr. Dennison was called in at three this morning. He just met Bub an hour ago. You could say he had the typical reaction.”

“Hey, I'm from Chicago,” Andy said, trying to recover. “I'm not bothered by too much.”

“Is that so?” Dr. Jones said. Her voice lacked the faintest trace of good nature. “Bub's next feeding is at noon. Maybe you'd like to lend a hand?”

“Sure.”

Dr. Jones nodded, then walked down the Blue Arm to the Octopus.

Andy waited until she'd gone through the door before commenting.

“Very intense lady.”

“She's been here a week, since Bub woke up, and I haven't seen her smile once. Does a helluva job though. She's the one who figured out Bub's, uh, nutritional requirements.”

“Which are?”

“Remember those sheep you smelled?”

Andy frowned, the banana muffins doing a flip in his stomach.

“Well,” Race said. “Here's your room.”

Race opened the door to Blue 6. Andy gave it a quick glance over. It was set up like a hotel suite; bed, desk, TV, dresser, washroom. The only thing missing was a view.

“Our water heater is on the fritz, so all we got is lukewarm for the time being. That phone on the nightstand is in-house only. All the rooms in Samhain got 'em. Hit the pound sign and then the number of the Arm followed by the room number. Blue Arm is number one, Yellow Arm number two—there's a list next to the phone. I'm in Blue 1, so just hit #11 to get me. Or hit *100 and go live over the house speakers.”

Andy yawned, knowing he wouldn't remember any of that.