Coalescence (Camden Investigations Book 1) (29 page)

Evan
scratched his chin. “What you’re saying sounds impossible to me.”

“You mean
Quetzalcoatl?” Bill asked.

“No, how you
referred to DJ, as if she was in an altered state. Could the energy contained
in her DNA be transferred back to a living state? In essence, your explanation
seems to imply her human state can be reanimated. Am I correct?”

“The aliens attempted to kill a human by exploiting human
frailty.” Bill smiled. “DJ is always part reptile. That’s what you might call a
loophole. I believe as she entered a death state and an energy reserve of her
essence was maintained in part through the Reptilian circulatory system.
Extraterrestrial Reptilians have oxygen reserves that are necessary for swallowing
food. They have to hold their breath while ingesting. It is conceivable that
the two states, human and Reptilian, comingled for a short amount of time
during the transition. There may have been sufficient air intake to prevent
brain death in the transition.”

“So what do we do?” Evan asked. “Immerse her in a sweat
bath?”

“There is no time for that. We will put her in the
bathtub.”

“And
 . . .
”

“We will rely on Quetzalcoatl.”

Evan scowled.

“Mr. Science, have you already lost faith?”

Tawa yipped and danced in circles around DJ’s dead body.

Evan motioned for
Gavin and Darian to assist DJ’s move to the bath. Inside, he wished Bill’s
plans for DJ were more spiritual, because to him, they just sounded paranormal.

R
USTY
WHISPERED
an observation. It was
as if he didn’t want anyone to hear it, but Dan Camden did.

“Oh, Great Spirit, give this man solace. Help him to stop
shaking.”

Dan paused a moment. He had just set the dial to its
stone surface. Its tiny metal claws scrabbled to find the power conduit. He
stared at his hands. “Oh my
 . . .
they are shaking.” The
Organization’s
number one traitor had a hard time discerning if he was shaking from the
gravity of the situation, the danger posed by the artifact, or coming to grips
with the fact someone was praying for him. Maybe it was a combination.

“How can this be?” Rusty asked, this time he spoke louder
and directly to Dan. “You must have handled many such objects.”

“I would have told you more. But I know you hate my guts.
Bottom line, I never
did
anything with the objects we found. I only
retrieved them for the higher ups, like some kind of hunting dog.”

“Confiscated,” Rusty corrected.

Dan held up a hand. It was wavering only slightly. “Yes.
You are right. And
 . . .
even if you aren’t, you deserve to be. I’m sorry for what
we did to your people—to everyone.”

Rusty nodded.

Dan continued, “I might have been able to quit if I
actually witnessed just what the objects were going to be used for. I
 . . .
uh
 . . .
might
 . . .
” He was bent at the knees, peering over the
dial At this juncture, he didn’t know if he was about to set yet another awful
plan in motion. Could a time slip on a grand scale actually be created? And
would it really take the entire planet out of harm’s way concerning the plague
weapon?

“Mr. Camden, what you are doing now for us is honorable.”

A tear leaked from the corner of Dan’s eye. “Thank-you,
Rusty. It’s grand of you to say so. I wouldn’t be so kind to myself. Now back
away from here.” He shook his head, continued staring at the tiny claws
clicking and clacking into place while Rusty half obeyed, only moving away a
yard’s length. “It shouldn’t be much longer!” He shouted to alert Iris and
Mitchell. They were standing on the other side of the ledge keeping watch. He
felt small and weak. His voice was hoarse and raspy. His frame was shaky and
wavering. His conscience felt as it if were pulsating.

I
RIS SHOOK
her head. All she could think about was her
dad receiving a lethal dose of radiation once the dial became activated again.
“I shouldn’t be letting him do this. No matter what my dad participated in,
Mitchell, he was coerced. I just know he was.”

Mitchell sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “I just
want you to find peace.”

“Ugh!” Iris groaned.

Mitchell wrapped his hands about her waist. “Take it
easy. Steady. Steady.”

“Something’s wrong! We’ve got to get to DJ.”

“What do you mean?” Mitchell pointed a hand out to the
desert for emphasis. “We’re not going anywhere. And we’re about a few seconds
from the time slip.”

“I know, Mitchell. But I’m not reading her like usual.
She’s masked or something. The freaking Greys did something to her!”

She struggled to break free of Mitchell’s grasp but
failed.

“No. Shush.” Mitchell rocked her gently in his arms. Dust
whipped about them in a swirling circle. “It’s probably just her Reptilian
DNA.”

Iris mumbled and shook her head.

On the other side of the ledge, Dan detected a whirring
sound. “It looks like we’re in business, Rusty.”

Dan jumped over the unit and grabbed Rusty. “We better
take some cover, my friend.”

“The sky is becoming dark,” Rusty said. “It is now up to
the spirits.”

Dan grunted. “I was afraid you were going to say
something like that.”

“O
KAY, DUNK
her; she’s got to be immersed.” Evan
instructed Gavin and Darian to push the dead girl deeper into the camper’s tiny
tub. “Don’t look at me, guys. This is per Bill.”

DJ, totally limp, lay in the bath of water. She didn’t
appear to be more anymore alive than a moment earlier. The only parts of her
above surface were her lips and nose.

Gavin and Darian stared quizzically at him. Evan scowled.
He shouted, “Okay, Bill, now what we do?”

He waited a long moment and then repeated his question.

“We recharge her system.” Bill’s answer made the men jump
simultaneously. Water splashed over the tub’s rim and soaked Gavin’s pants.

“Careful,” Darian scolded Gavin. “We need her immersed.”

Bill nodded and motioned with his hands for Gavin and
Darian to depart.

Evan inhaled. “Once again, what do we do?”

“
We
won’t be doing anything,” Bill answered. “But
you can pray if you like.” Bill removed the pendant of Quetzalcoatl from his
neck and began dangling it over the water.

“This is it! We’re going to rely on the pendant to create
some energy charge?”

“We are. We need a certain vibration. Quetzalcoatl can
aid us.”

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. The guilt was
washing over him like a tsunami. If Bill couldn’t revive DJ he would have no
choice but to tell Iris of her sister’s fate. Then again, if the time slip
didn’t work that might not be a concern. His scientific mind analyzed that
there might only be a slight chance Iris would ever learn of his omission. Yet
that possibility loomed over him as if a rain cloud.

L
IGHTS BEGAN
to swirl in the pueblo. Iris’s struggling
weakened. A mantra began to repeat in her mind.
I will not fail again. I’ve
sworn to protect my team. That includes everyone! Do you hear me?
She had
no idea who was speaking to. Dust clouds rose higher and higher, conspiring to
send sand into her eyes. She could barely see. By touch, she knew Mitchell was
holding her. Out of the corner of one bleary eye, she saw two figures that
appeared to be nothing other than patches of dark red sand. Their silhouettes
resembled her dad and Rusty. She clenched her fist into a ball. It was as if
she were prepping for a scary carnival ride.
I must weather this storm. I
must weather this storm. DJ, can you hear me? I will help you, just please hang
on
 . . .
Darkness intensified as if it were a summer day awaiting
a heavy storm. Then light blazed. In that instant, Iris and her thoughts were
disengaged from the reality she had come to known.

T
HE TIME
slip was enacted. The OBOLs had sufficient
time to interact with The Dial, now fully charged, and fully plugged into its
Chaco Canyon power source. Space/Time was Time/Space. Absorbed in the fourth
dimension of time, the entire planet and its orbiting companions were
motionless yet revolving. Rational minds struggled with this and many other
conundrums. Quantum disruption now governed Earth and its surrounding atmosphere.
Anything and nothing could happen to anything and anyone. It was a moment
physicist Michio Kaku would savor depending on which reference of time the
theoretical scientist perceived to be reality. For each and every person on
planet Earth, time was now based on the individual’s perspective. Were they
experiencing a past, a future, or perhaps a dual-reality where past, present,
and future bled into one another and created a new intersection of experience?

For Iris, her new reality was dark and uncertain; it was
as if she had projected her worries and concerns from moments earlier onto a
blank canvas. The canvas now was streaked with the blackness of despair. Its
only relief came in the form of crimson dashes of agony.

She crawled down a dark hallway, feeling small as a
toddler. The investigator inside of her prodded her along.
“Who am I?”
She
asked the question rhetorically. An older voice of hers answered.
“You are
always the investigator. It is your makeup.
”

Her squeaky toned voice implored the older voice to give
her comfort.
“But what about my family, my friends?”

“Who you are supersedes these concerns. Who you are is
the constant.”

“No!”
Iris
the toddler whined in defiance.
“If you are my future, you must know how to
make all things right.”

Iris beat her fists on whatever supported her. Enveloped
in darkness, intermittent flashes of red gave some hint that she was in a
tunnel. But it was never light enough for her to identify any substance. She
began to cry.

A giant white light bore down on her. Every instinct told
her it must be a train. But how could that be? She rolled sideways hoping to
remove herself from its path. But it had no destination and it was no light. It
was a giant eyeball. It opened and closed to reveal a black iris. It blinked a few
more times, and a wave of gushing red liquid poured out of it, lifting her off
the surface. She flailed and gasped, caught in the grip of the red sea. The
older voice returned.
“It is time to stop believing everything follows a
succession. See what you we’re really meant to see.”

The wave carried her along. She bobbed up and down into
the liquid several times, swallowing the red bile and spitting it back out
amidst fits of coughing.

E
VAN FELT
his stomach drop as if it were no longer
attached. A second ago he swore his hands were clenching the tub of water. Now
he was staring at a wedding band on the ring finger of his left hand. He
flipped his hand over and back a few times, studying it like a scientist. He
jiggled the ring but there was little leeway. He noticed red indentions.
Whatever had happened occurred a while ago.

“Come on, we’re going to be late for your speaking
engagement.”

What?
The voice was feminine. It had an attitude. It was
 . . .
Kassidy.

She snuggled next to him, burying her curly head of hair
into his chest.

“This is a first. I’ve never seen you dally, especially
when you’ve been asked to speak about your paper. What is this
 . . .
?” She lifted her head off his chest and gave
a silent count on her fingers. “
. . . 
your fourth published article in Science Daily
in as many years.”

She flashed her ring at him. “Keep it up, and maybe I’ll
get an upgrade.” She gasped. “Oh, oh dear. I’m sorry, honey. That was the old
me, talking. Forgive me.”

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah
 . . .
you’re forgiven.” Something on
the wall had caught his attention. It was a plaque announcing Kassidy’s
completion of a 12-step program. Next to it was a diploma. It announced Kassidy
had earned her Master’s Degree in astrophysics at John Hopkins. Just how much
time
had passed in seconds? How much time could have passed for Kassidy to lose
her cynicism?

“Don’t worry.” Kassidy patted his shoulder. “You won’t
have to do all the lecturing by yourself. One day soon I’m going to be having
articles published as well. But first
 . . .
” She stared down at her protruding belly.

Overwhelmed by what appeared to be his future/present,
Evan ambled for the closet to find a tie. “I’ll just be a minute.” He then
disappeared into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Several deep
inhales and exhales later, Evan began looping the tie about his neck. It was
then, in another mirror positioned on the bathroom door, he observed the
betrayal. The door was ajar enough to mirror the reflection of the bedroom
vanity. Kassidy was not primping as promised. She was imbibing from a flask she
had no doubt stashed in a drawer.

“Ah, what do you think you’re doing to
our
child?”

“Shit, Evan. It’s just a sip. And to be technical, you
know damned well this isn’t
your
baby.”

“What the hell?” Evan slammed the heel of his fist
against his forehead.

“Okay, what I said was cruel. It’s your child. Just not
your seed
 . . .
”

Evan cursed silently trying to access a memory for this
sudden reality. He envisioned a lab. Yes. They had been unable to conceive
naturally
. “Artificial insemination didn’t sound like a bad option to you
then.”
Whose voice was inside his head? He knew it wasn’t his. “
Here,
recall some of the arguments you had with your dear wife over it.”
The reel
played. Kassidy threw objects, she yelled, he yelled back.
“But all in all,
what really poisoned your wife to renege on her promise of sobriety was the
ever present feeling you transmitted to her daily.”
Evan felt his face
flush. He recalled a vision of DJ choking. He couldn’t quite place it. But he
watched how helpless she was. She was being strangled by something invisible.
Something that created reality from mere thought
 . . .
Shit! It
was
his fault. He
had projected his doubt into her makeup. And he had been poisoning Kassidy for
years with his negative judgments, apparently. He recalled a lecture where a
geneticist maintained environment was equally responsible for a person’s
actions and feelings as their genetic coding was. People weren’t predisposed
when it came to their personality or outlook on life. Outcomes could change. He
wished he had applied this knowledge. He heard the voice speak again.
“You
understand now why we need to change you. You are not strong enough to utilize
all the knowledge at your disposal. We’re just going to tweak
 . . .
”
Evan cupped his hands over his ears. He found himself staring
intently at a clock. It was a tether his subconscious advised him. But where
did it lead? He had no idea. He listened to the ever-loudening metronome of the
clock. It ticked. He focused on the sound. He focused on its vibration. If
there was indeed a way to change everything he needed to change it now.