Perhaps the Grays read into that stance, or perhaps they just read Anderholt’s mind. Either way, come the next moment the Grays seemed to relax, and all at once. The men watched as the aliens’ posture became less erect and their eyes became a bit smaller. It seemed that way, at least, and Anderholt figured that now was the time. He began to lower his arms, and made ready to step forward.
Stay, a voice comes to him, one that isn’t audible but which he can hear in his head. Anderholt tenses up, and doesn’t take that step. Instead he decides to just start talking.
Quiet, the voice comes again, and this time Anderholt turns and looks over his shoulder at the men behind him. Their eyes narrow at him, as if wondering what he’s doing, but not a one says a word. Anderholt wonders if any heard what he’d just heard.
They did not, the voice answered, nor will they. You’re in command here. We’ll talk to you… for now.
That startled the colonel and put him off-guard. He looks back at the aliens, their faces expressionless, those large eyes showing a deep blackness and hinting at nothing else.
I’m — the colonel started to think, but his thoughts were interrupted.
General Anderholt, the voice in his head answers for him, born 1918, joined the military in 1936, served in World War II from 1938 to 1945, and for the past two years in charge of the secret alien collection unit of the CIA.
Anderholt cocks his head to one side in a kind of shrug that says, ‘not bad.’
What do you want? the voice comes again. You shouldn’t be here.
Why not? Anderholt thinks.
Because it’ll be the death of you, Harry.
Anderholt frowns to that. The American government is strong, our military—
We’re not talking about your government or your military… we’re talking about you, Harry.
That frazzles Anderholt. You know how I’m gonna die?
Of course. But colonel… would you like to know?
Anderholt immediately thinks ‘no,’ but at the same time another part of him thought ‘yes.’ It must have been that part that the aliens latched-onto, or else they were going to tell him regardless.
It’ll be 32 years from now, Harry, deep down in the depths of the base you’ll see built here, the voice says. We’re not worried about telling you this, either, for there’s nothing you can do to change it.
So the future’s already set in stone then, is it? Anderholt thinks to himself, and before he could think not to.
The colonel thinks he detects a trace of humor in the voice’s next response. For you, colonel, yes.
Anderholt stares back at the few Grays standing there, looking deeply into those large, black eyes. Behind him the men begin to grow antsy, and Anderholt can hear them beginning to shuffle about. He puts up his hand to signal that everything is alright, though privately he thinks, is it?
Whether the Grays read that thought or not, Anderholt doesn’t know. Perhaps they chose to ignore it. Anderholt has no way of knowing either way, but one thing he does know — he won’t be dying here, at least not today. That thought fills him with a sense of confidence, boosting his courage, and making him realize that there was nothing to worry about. He was in charge, and he’d act like it.
‘The base I’ll see built here’ you said, Anderholt thinks, trying his best to direct it toward the Grays. If that’s the case, then get out of my way and let me build it.
Anderholt keeps his gaze locked on the Gray closest to him, wondering if a thing with no eyelids could be stared down. He receives his answer a moment later when, without a word — or thought in this case — the Grays simply turn and begin to walk away down the long tunnel. After 40 yards or so wall lights end and the blackness swallows them up.
“Sir…” one of the men behind him says, “…what just happened?”
Anderholt turns around to look at the man, and the dozen or so others with him. “We’ve made contact, gentlemen… did you hear them talking to me with their thoughts?” No one speaks, but nearly everyone shakes their head ‘no.’ The colonel nods. “Didn’t think so.”
“Now what, sir?”
Anderholt turns and looks back down that long, dark tunnel. What is down there, he thinks, and how will it kill me? The Grays had said 32 years from now. That’d be 1979. Anderholt is 30 now. I’ve got time, he thinks, and then turns back to look at the men, and also to move toward them. They straighten up as he does so.
“Men, let’s file out.”
“Sir?” one of them says, alarmed. After all, they’d just spent so much time getting into the place, and had lost their guide.
Anderholt stops and looks at the soldier, then the others. “We’ve got a lot of equipment to bring in here if we mean to get this base started. Let’s get a move-on.”
He begins walking again, to the soldiers and then past them. He doesn’t look back as he starts back to the cave’s entrance… he knows he doesn’t need to. Nothing is going to harm Colonel Anderholt for some time. There was nothing to be afraid of… yet.
Part I
1 — The Back Door
Turn continues to stare at the two in front of him, especially this new man named Bennewitz. The three of them are running for all they’re worth — well, not Turn, as his cybernetic legs would’ve taken him right past the other two without a sweat — for they know that up five levels at the base’s entrance, Stu is there with his CED device. Any minute now and the whole place will be demolished, those upper levels and even those way down here, where the tube trains run and where they’d find a path to another base.
Turn still couldn’t believe what he’d just seen minutes before — Aaron pulling his knife from Johnny’s chest. Why Aaron would kill a fellow teammate, Turn didn’t know, but he knew he had to find out. If he didn’t, more of his teammates would die. But how many are just like Aaron, he thinks, traitors in our midst, just waiting to stick the knife in?
“Guys, I’ve gotta tell you something…” Turn starts to say, the three of them still running.
“It isn’t about that traitor Aaron Haney, is it?” Paul says over his shoulder.
“How… how’d you know?” Turn asks.
Paul looked back over his shoulder at Turn, a sly smile on his face. He was a wild-eyed man with red, curly hair and shining white teeth. Turn didn’t know if he could trust him… didn’t know if he could trust anyone anymore.
“There’s a lot of things Paul here knows,” Walter says, not looking back, “and the big reason for that is how much time travelling he’s done.”
“Whoa!” Turn says, slowing and then stopping completely. The other two had no choice but to stop as well, to turn and look back at Turn. “This is gettin’ a little too damn weird.” He shakes his head and crosses his arms. “I need some answers.”