ZAP!
Anderholt presses the button he’d been pointing at and a laser-like ‘flash’ shoots out, hitting Jake right in the back. And just like that, the soldier winks out of existence, nothing to show for his life but that little pile of ash Anderholt had mentioned earlier.
“Oh, Jake, Jake, Jake,” the general says as he gets up, walking around his desk to look at the pile of ash that was once one of the most decorated heroes from the war in Afghanistan. That war was still another 22 years away, not here in good ol’ 1979 but in the year 2001. That’s where Jake had been from, and once again Anderholt knew his decision of twenty years ago to use soldiers not from this time was one of the best ideas he’d ever had.
No one will miss them, he’d thought at the time, and he thinks that now as he bends over the small pile of ash and blows. The remains of Jake blow toward the doorway and collect at the edges of the filing cabinet, with some even clinging stubbornly to the floor. Anderholt leaves them there, smiling at the thought of the janitor mopping them away later.
No one will miss him, Anderholt thinks again as he returns to his desk and retrieves a fresh cigar, no one at all.
16 — Behind the Curtain
The doorknob begins to turn and Mark looks at it wearily. With blurry vision he sees it open, then two figures come in. He can’t make them out, but figures one must be Carl.
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Mark says, a bit sluggishly like he’s coming out of anesthesia.
“Twenty-four, actually,” Carl says, glancing down at his watch, then, “Has the truth serum taken effect yet, Mark?”
“Six minutes ago,” Mark replies, drowsily trying to focus on the two men. He finally does so, and what he sees sends something else coursing through his veins — anger. The adrenaline-fueled emotion isn’t enough to overwhelm the sodium pentothal, but it does awaken him and give him back a bit of his senses. There before him, and standing next to Carl, is General Anderholt.
“Hell, Mark,” the general says, “it’s good to see you again… though under the circumstances…”
He trails-off, shaking his head after a moment. Then he looks to Carl. “I thought I told you not to kill his father.”
Carl shrugs. “Had to be done, and besides… now we have Mark here to pin the murder on.”
“Pin the… how the hell are you gonna do that when he’s dead?”
Carl can only give another shrug, to which Anderholt can only scoff and shake his head. A moment later he turns back to Mark. “Well, no use cryin’ over spilled milk. Now, shall we get this round of questioning underway, Carl, or what?”
“Yes, sir,” Carl replies, a wicked smile on his face.
“You killed my father,” Mark says before Carl can begin however, then, looking at Anderholt, “and you’re in on it, you bastard.”
“Now, now, Mark, you just need to calm down, that’s all.”
Mark casts a hateful look Anderholt’s way. “The truth will come out, it always does.”
Anderholt smiles. “What… your father’s murder, or the real reason you came back… because of events unfolding, events most everyone on Earth has no idea about?” He laughs. “You know the corporate structure, Mark, and you know it’d never allow such a thing to happen.”
“You make it sound like you’re so special,” Mark says with a chuckle, “but you’re not. You really have no power left, not after the changes that’ve occurred. No,” he laughs now, “you and the rest of MJ12 are now at the bottom of the pecking order.”
“Oh?” Anderholt says, a slightly bemused smile edging one corner of his mouth.
“The Ultra unit… the Blue Moon unit… hell, even Alpha One and Alpha Two are above you now!” Mark laughs, enjoying that slight smile slip from Anderholt’s face. “You’re not the top dogs anymore, and I think you know it. Do you and your cronies discuss that while meeting at your precious country club, you know, the one in the mountains outside Warrington, Virginia?”
The slight smile on Anderholt’s face is replaced by a sneer. It stays there for several moments, but then disappears and is replaced by a slight smile.
“You won’t get me riled, Mark… I’m not your father.” Mark only sneers at Anderholt in return, while Carl just leans against the wall, watching the two go at it. “But what we really want to know, Mark, and what we gave you that serum for,” Anderholt continues, pacing the small room a bit, “is what kind of resistance is mounting to the Reptilian plan here? Is the Collective mounting something… or have they, and you’re it?”
He says that last with a smile, and Mark wants to tell him that yes, he is it, but the serum won’t allow it.
“They know of what’s going on, and as you believe, they don’t approve. As for mounting a resistance, well… it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Too busy arguing with one another in their halls of power, eh?” Anderholt says, and Mark nods despite himself.
“Why’d you do it, if you’re on they’re side? Why’d you destroy Dulce Base?”
“Simple,” Anderholt says, “the Reptilians wanted it that way.” When Mark narrows his eyes, Anderholt smiles and paces the room a bit. “You see, Mark, the Grays at Dulce got away from the Reptilians, started to make the place their own. Remember, the Reptilians are the true power on this planet, have been for millennia. Well, after that events of ’75, the Grays thought they might be able to get out from under the Reptilians’ thumb. They did a good job of it too… for about five years.” Anderholt shrugs. “Then the Reptilians decided to let the Grays remember who was really in charge.”
“And now they know?” Mark asks.
Anderholt nods. “Sure do. That attack sent ‘em scurryin’, both to what underground bases they deem safe here on Earth, and to their bases on the dark side of the moon.”
“What about the motherships?”
“What about you let me worry about them?” Anderholt says.
“Lotta questions,” Carl says.
“There always is… before they give in,” Anderholt replies.
Mark scoffs. “What… go over to your side? Never!”
“You just can’t beat ‘em, Mark,” Carl says. “I spent years trying to convince your father of that, but no, he’d have none of it.” Carl shakes his head. “Year after year, mission after mission, one team of young boys after another… and for what? My God, Mark — can’t you see that they’ve won already, did so back in ’54 when Ike signed that deal with ‘em?”
“Carl’s right,” Anderholt says as Mark sits there, looking bewildered. “I saw the truth of it years ago, even before that treaty was signed at Holloman. I saw it the day I stumbled upon Dulce, a pimple-faced colonel fresh off a’ World War Two.” The general chuckles. “It was clear to me then, and it should damn well be clear to you, Mark, what with all the time you’ve spent off-world. You know how many worlds the Reptilians have destroyed, you know how many in the Collective say that they’re unstoppable, that they should just be left to their own devices.”
“And they’re wrong,” Mark says. “You and the others working with them will find that out firsthand, and you won’t like it.”
“Working with them? Carl says with a chuckle. “Mark, you have no idea.”