Anaz-Voohri (3 page)

Zack couldn’t stand the attitude. Why didn’t they believe him? “I don’t need drugs, and I didn’t make it up. It was real.”

The man in black offered a condescending smile. “It’s amazing what the mind can cook up to avoid facing a frightening truth." The FBI agent motioned to one of his men to recall the others then faced Zack. “We believe it is a covert terrorist attack. Be assured that we are doing everything in our power to bring those responsible to justice." He stood up then asked, “Do you have a picture of your sister?
Something recent.”

Zack went to the shelf and pulled out photo albums. He had to brace himself against the smiling face of his baby sister. He selected a photograph taken on her last birthday just a few weeks ago and handed it to the FBI agent. “How are you going to rescue Ashley?" Zack doubted they could do anything at all but had to ask. “What can you possibly do if you don’t even believe me when I tell the truth?”

Agent Michalski pocketed the picture then closed his jacket slowly, as if giving himself time to think. “At this point, we are still investigating. We’ll let you know." He signaled the other agents, now standing around the living room, to follow him out.

Furious at being dismissed, Zack yelled at their retreating backs. “I know what I saw!”

Agent Michalski turned about, his face hard, eyes glinting like steel. “You didn’t see anything, young man." His voice carried an unveiled threat. “You understand me?" He slipped on his shades but Zack could still feel his stare. “And not a word of your absurd story to the press, not even to your parents, understood?”

The truth suddenly flashed in Zack’s mind. The FBI believed him all right. They knew he’d told the truth. They had taken his testimony and would study it, but publicly they would deny everything, like in those conspiracy theories he’d come across on the Web.

Zack realized he’d better not argue, or harm might come to him and to what was left of his family. The FBI had the power to silence anyone, if it threatened a government cover-up. Uttering a deep sigh, Zack let his shoulders drop.
“Yeah, whatever.”

As soon as the FBI left, Zack ran up to his room and rebooted his computer. Fortunately, before falling asleep, he’d saved the documents written for his Masters in Investigative Journalism at Berkeley. Nothing damaged.

First, Zack retrieved his email. The web buzzed with testimonies of UFO sightings. His friends at The Daily Californian, the students’ newspaper for which Zack provided articles, sent him links on the topic. Dedicated Yahoo groups started on the subject, and Zack joined them all, adding his own statement to the slew of reports. Maybe the Web would provide the right tool to start looking for answers.

Perched above the monitor on a bookshelf, Dude encouraged him with loud purring and swept the screen with his bushy tail for good measure.

Zack scratched the cat’s big black head. “Thanks for your support, Dude. At least I know you believe me. You were there.”

Time to revamp the website Zack had sorely neglected in the past months. He pulled out a portrait of his sister from her seventh birthday album and gazed at it. Wiping his eyes, he reluctantly set the photograph on the scanner. Then he posted the picture on his homepage with the legend:

Have you seen me? My name is Ashley. I was abducted from my LA home by an alien creature on the night of July fourth, 2003. If you have any information at all that could help find me, contact my brother Zack.

No FBI clown in a black suit would prevent Zack from getting to the bottom of this mystery. Zack owed it to Ashley to help her, and he would stop at nothing. “Ashley, if you can hear me, girl, tell me where you are,” he prayed, while his feverish fingers flew over the keyboard.

Zack had not finished uttering the words when a clear image formed in his mind.

The place looked strange as he stared at a purple domed ceiling with designs that looked vaguely familiar, like stylized figures he’d seen on Native American jewelry or maybe on some pottery at the mall. He had the sensation of lying on a flat surface that felt like warm skin.

When the vision dissolved, Zack realized he’d just communicated with Ashley. He’d been in her body for a brief instant. Had he really seen the place where the monster kept her? Was she lying on that skin-like surface? Ashley must have read his thoughts as she often did. Still reeling from the psychic experience, Zack realized Ashley was letting him know she was alive. She’d called him for help.

 
“Thanks, little sister,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you." He grabbed the cat and swung him up into the air.
“Dude!
She’s alive!"

Now he must find out where the monster had taken her. Full of hope, Zack ran down the stairs, snatched his mother’s car keys from the dish on the table by the sofa and ran for the door. Zack’s first stop would be the Native American shop at the mall. He could probably find out what this stylized figure playing a flute represented.
       
                                   

Chapter Two

West Point Military Academy 2004

Tia easily climbed the seven-foot wall and paused at the top to observe her target through the night goggles. The downpour obscured everything, but the poor visibility also worked to her advantage. She dropped on the other side, landing in the mud with a soft thud and readjusted the net on her camouflage helmet.

Lightning illuminated the isolated cabin on the hillock. It stood in a clearing and didn’t seem heavily guarded. According to Tia’s calculations, the prisoner she needed to liberate would be inside. Ignoring the cold rain and the fatigue of a twelve-klick trek through the rocky forest, she flattened herself in the muck and reapplied mud to her face. At night, even her tan skin would reflect light.

She crawled between rocks and bushes, pretending a barbwire net was stretched overhead, like in ITT training. In this weather, even a sharpshooter with a telescope couldn’t see her in camouflage gear. She moved smoothly despite the helmet and the armored vest. Tia valued protection, exercise or not, and victory demanded she stay alive.

Unwilling to slow down for anyone, Tia had left the other cadets far behind. Always ahead of her class, she had to be first. Never mind the fact that she was a woman or that she’d added ten pounds to her pack as a personal challenge. She intended to win this law of the land warfare exercise. The enemy brigade didn’t stand a chance.

Lightning flared and Tia counted the seconds until thunder. The storm was getting closer. With all the metal on her body, she hoped it wouldn’t strike overhead.

Tia stopped crawling to survey the only tree in the clearing, a tall pine with enough low branches to climb. As she suspected, it concealed a guard, but he hadn’t seen her. Very still, she aimed her C-7 rifle and waited for the next lightning bolt. After waiting three more seconds, she fired. The crack of thunder covered the shot and the sentinel fell.
Gotcha!
Even rubber bullets at fifty feet could leave mean bruises and that fall had to hurt. This cadet would hide better next time.

Slithering toward the tree, Tia glanced at the fallen cadet. He looked miserable, but seemed all right. “Sorry, amigo. Nothing personal,” she whispered. Reaching for the lowest branch, she climbed up the wide trunk and found a hidden perch. From there, she observed the cabin through her night binoculars. The wide open space around it looked like it had been cleared. Her instincts made her think of a mine field. It made sense. She would have done the same if working for the other team.

She sighted another sentinel posted on the roof. She aimed and waited for lightning, then fired with the thunder.
Perfect shot.
Two down. She wondered how many guarded the cabin.

She looked for more sentinels but saw none. She should probably wait for the rest of her team before launching an assault, but in these perfect conditions, Tia decided stealth would serve the mission better. The enemy wouldn’t see her coming.

Climbing down the blind side of the tree, she dropped to the ground. Mine detector in one hand and rifle in the other, she crawled through the cold sludge, advancing toward the dark cabin. Was it equipped with night cameras? The rain intensified. Given this deluge, it didn’t matter much. Even a keen observer would miss her progress.

Something flickered at the edge of her field of vision to the right. With natural ease and speed, Tia aimed, waited for the lightning, counted,
then
shot again. The soldier fell. She wondered how many cadets waited for her inside, or had they posted experienced soldiers? Tia didn’t mind a challenge. She needed to make her training as rigorous as possible.

When the mine detector vibrated, she stopped, glanced at the instrument,
then
moved to the left around the bleep. The fake mines wouldn’t explode, just trigger an alarm. Still, to Tia, it was more than simple training.

In order to survive the challenges to come, she had to be better than the very best. She needed to train herself to survive at all cost, in any conditions. Tia intended to volunteer for the middle-east as soon as she graduated from West Point, and she wanted to be ready to kick terrorist ass.

She unhooked a tear gas bomb from her belt, pulled out the safety and calculated the distance, so the canister would break the window and not bounce off. She aimed and threw.
Perfect pitch.
She followed with three more gas bombs.

Soldiers rushed out of the cabin, coughing, blind, and disoriented. Tia shot them one by one, then stood and negotiated her path between the mines toward her target. It was all over.

*****

After a sleepless night,
an
0500 barrack inspection, an 0600 call and a morning run, Tia faced her superior officer.

The man’s face remained unreadable. “The CO wants to see you in his office, Cadet, on the double.”

 
“Yes, Major." Tia saluted and smiled. Did the CO want to compliment her on last night’s exercise? She’d rescued her prisoner and brought him out by the scruff of the neck, completing the mission single-handedly against all odds. The other cadets arrived on the scene too late. But, of course, when it came to physical endurance or even intellectual challenges, Tia always won.

The major frowned. “The General didn’t sound very happy.”

Damn! The old grump was never happy, no matter how well she performed. Tia saluted, then crossed the courtyard and hurried on the road along the Hudson toward HQ. She closed her gray-blue coat against the cold. Yesterday’s rain had turned to wet snow. The old man could be unpredictable, and although he was a friend of her father’s, Tia didn’t pretend to understand him at all.

In the midst of such natural beauty, with the river to the left and the forested hills to the right, some cadets found it difficult to concentrate on their studies. Not Tia. She excelled at everything, except maybe relationships. Why didn’t men flock to her Latina charm? She sighed. The male cadets found her unapproachable. What a bunch of wimps.

Despite her undeniable skills and intelligence, the complicated nuances of human relationships escaped Tia’s grasp. Her prowess made the men in her life uncomfortable, her father and uncles, not to mention romantic interests. It would take a very secure man to date an Amazon like her.

When she reached the HQ building, Tia stomped her feet on the mat and shook the snow off her coat before entering. The General liked his cadets impeccable at all times. She smoothed her long black hair under her cap and checked her reflection in the door’s window pane. Despite her lack of sleep and the thick uniform, she looked as good as Jennifer Lopez.

At the end of the hallway, Tia removed her coat, straightened her white shirt and black trousers and saluted the General’s assistant. The officer took Tia’s name and went to announce her. She came back a few seconds later. “He’s expecting you, Cadet.”

Upon entering the General’s office, Tia saluted.
“Cadet Vargas reporting, sir.”

 
“Ah, Cadet Vargas."
The General, tall, thin and wiry in his pressed blue uniform, pronounced her last name like a gringo despite the fact that he knew better.
“As you were.”

Tia relaxed her stance and tucked her hands behind her back. Did the General resent her Latino heritage? Although born in the United States, Tia had spent her childhood in Venezuela and felt proud of her ancestry. Her other country had a long tradition of warrior women, Guerrillas and revolutionaries, who had contributed to the liberation of the people, from Bolivar to President Chavez.

The General cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his shaven scalp, as if embarrassed by her direct stare. Tia had that effect on people sometimes. Intimidating even to a General…
 
No wonder she couldn’t make friends. But she had to hide her softer side. A soldier could only be strong.

The old man opened a drawer and took out a manila envelope. From it he pulled out a set of eight by ten glossy prints and spread them out on his desk facing Tia. “Take a look and tell me what the hell I’m looking at.”

Tia approached the desk and recognized herself. On the snapshots she wore a red beret and scarf, and the banner behind her read,
Chavez won’t go!
How did the old man get his hands on those?