A.D.A.M. Page 11

  “Close your eyes and get your fifteen minutes of shut-eye. As I said, I have this covered.”

  Dr. Bradford cleaned the equipment, placed them to air dry, and dabbed her wet hands onto her lab coat. She glanced at the industrial clock. “It’s ten thirty. Where has the day gone?” Her stomach growled as she took another long look at the doughy blob that grew to at least seven pounds throughout the day. She closed the tank lid, locked it, and covered the tank with the white sheet. “Whatever you are, I’ll be back in the morning.”

  She strode to her desk, picked up her journal, a pencil, and then proceeded to the guarded door. With her knuckles fisted, she knocked three times on the door. “Major Dwyer, I’m ready to return to my sleeping quarters.”

  The Major opened the door. “This way, Dr. Bradford.”

  She looked at Sergeant Merritt. “Are you going to guard this lab all night,”

  “No, ma’am. Another officer will relieve me in thirty minutes, and then I’m to escort you to the shower facilities.”

  “Will you please tell them not let anyone in and to guard it with his or her life. If anyone enters it could contaminate the specimen; and then we might have a real national security breach. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you in thirty.”

  Jessica slept on the couch while Rebecca slept sunken in the oversized chair tightly holding one of the picture albums from the bookcase. It looked like it was a late night for both as the old black and white film It Came from Outer Space played on the television.

  “Jess, you awake?”

  “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

  “Don’t you think we ought to go to sleep?”

  “I thought we were.”

  “I mean in our beds.”

  Jessica bolted up. “You can’t leave me alone here, and I’m not going to my apartment.”

  “I meant in the guest bedroom.”

  “Oh, thank God. I’m sure that is what Dr. B would want us to do.”

  “Why do you still call her Dr. B when she’s your older sister?”

  “Why do you call her Dr. Bradford?”

  “I only do that professionally. We agreed a long time ago it was best no one found out we were sisters. We wanted to make our individual marks on the world.”

  “You have to remember, when I met her, I was introduced to her as Dr. Bradford. I didn’t know for eighteen months that she was my older sister; so, Dr. B stuck. No one knows at N.A.E.T. I’m her sister. We agreed it would complicate things since I wanted to be her undergraduate assistant.”

  “I completely understand. Let’s go to bed.”

  At their post across the street from Dr. Bradford’s house, Agent Morrison slept in the driver’s seat while Agent Turner sat in the passenger seat with her laptop open and worked. She entered a command code into the computer system linked to the car. Occasionally, she glanced up at Dr. Bradford’s house where Rebecca’s SUV and Jessica’s small compact car remained in the driveway.

  Dr. Bradford stepped into her dreary sleeping quarters escorted by Major Dwyer. “Thank you, Major. So far, you’ve been the most helpful person in this prison.

  “Ma’am, this is a military base, not a prison.”

  “Let me restate my position. I was kidnapped and brought here against my will. I’m locked in any room I go into, and I’m told what to do and when to do it. Now if that doesn’t sound like a prison, what does?”

  “That’s the life in the military.”

  “I’m not military.”

  “Ma’am, you haven’t eaten all day. All three of your food trays are still on the table. Would you like a hot meal brought to your quarters?”

  “It won’t be necessary. I’ll figure it out. Isn’t that what prisoners do?”

  “Good night, Dr. Bradford and please, enjoy your shower. It’s considered a two-minute luxury around here in the desert.”

  “Are you always this formal?”

  “Ma’am, I’m military. I carry out my orders without questioning my superiors.”

  “Even if those orders are immoral or illegal.”

  “Good night, Ma’am.” The Major exited and closed the door behind him.

  She leaned against the wall, took in a deep breath, and then glanced at the food trays. I suppose that was breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “Wait! Desert.” I’m not in New Orleans.

  Her hand gripped tightly onto the journal as she exhaled. After flipping through several pages, she tossed it onto the bed. Her stomach growled, and her eyes darted toward the trays. She made her way to the table, nibbled on the cheese and crackers, and then ate the chocolate pudding. There is nothing right about this.

  With only a few feet between the table and the bed, she stepped toward it. She adjusted the two flat worn pillows to add padding to the wall, then eased into bed and leaned against them. Her vision blurred. She opened her journal, wrote a list, tore out the page, bolted from her bed to the door and banged on it with her fists.

  Major Dwyer opened the door. “Dr. Bradford, is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Yes, I need to see General Anbar immediately.”

  “I’ll alert him.” He closed the door.

  Dr. Bradford paced in front of the door. Within minutes it opened, and General Anbar entered.

  “What do you want Dr. Bradford?”

  “I want to go home, but I know that’s not going to happen.” She handed him the list. “I need everything I’ve written down, and to the specifications. I requested with no questions asked, you know military style policy. You said I wasn’t a prisoner, then don’t treat me like one. I don’t want military fatigues. I want my clothes. When I conduct research, I need to feel comfortable. Five pairs of black pants, size eight, just like I am wearing now. Five medium white collared blouses by Liz Claiborne, just like I am wearing. The rest is on this list, including the type of shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, and make-up I want. Are we clear?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “One more thing General, I must have a Serta Posturepedic mattress, a new Lazy Boy recliner, and a reading lamp. Oh, and a television. You could at least make this feel more like a motel room than a jail cell. Unless of course, I am a prisoner and not an honored guest.”

  “Would you like a fluffy pillow too?” His sarcastic tone grated her to the core.

  “That would be lovely if it isn’t going to be any problem for you.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about your requisitions. Anything else?”

  “How about decent food. I can’t eat this crap. Bring in a chef if you have to, but I won’t work unless my environment and food are at least tolerable.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Good night Dr. Bradford.” The General took his leave.

  That went better than I thought it would. She sat on her bed, retrieved her journal, and thumbed through it for a moment before she wrote another entry.

  “End of Day One – 11:53 PM. - The only time I have been alone was when I was behind one of two locked doors – my research lab or my sleeping quarters. Meals, if that’s what you want to call them, are hot and served on school cafeteria trays. I’m not allowed to eat with the others, and all the meals are brought to me in my sleeping quarters. Even the area for showering and brushing my teeth, I’m told is highly guarded. As for my research, I can only develop a theory as to what this new life form is or how long it can stay in a morphing state.”

  Her eyes flushed as she felt the emptiness of the deaths of her son and her husband. Out of habit, she turned to the back of the journal to gaze at the wallet size photograph of her son she always carried as tears streamed down her face.

  CHAPTER 6 - BEIGNETS

  Dr. Bradford wearing an olive-green military issued T-shirt and camouflage cargo pants received a knock on the door as she slept in her quarters. Immediately after, the song Reveille blared over speakers throughout the base. She bolted upright as she glanced at the clock. “Six in the freaking morning. You’ve go
t to be kidding me.” She stumbled out of bed toward the door. Before she could get there, Sergeant Merritt entered and handed her two shopping bags. “Good morning, Dr. Bradford. The General assigned me to you for the rest of your stay. These are the hygiene items you requested.”

  “That was quick.”

  “That’s the military way, and we do have a commissary on base.”

  “What about the clothes I requested?”

  “We have to order your street clothes. Your breakfast will be here shortly. Have a good day, Ma’am.”

  “Yummy, I can’t wait for cold green eggs and rotten bacon.”

  “Excuse me, Ma’am.”

  “Nothing.”

  As Sergeant Merritt exited, Giles entered carrying a breakfast tray. “I hope you find this meal to your satisfaction. I cooked it myself. I was a crank at one point in my military career.”

  “Crank?”

  “Temporary short-order cook. Believe it or not, the military stationed me in Louisiana at Belle Chase. I learned to love N’awlins cuisine and learned to cook it.”

  “Thank you. See, I told you our paths have probably crossed.”

  He placed the tray on the table. “This won’t do. I’ll remove these old trays immediately and make sure this doesn’t happen to you again. You are our honored guest.”

  “Thank you, Giles. That was truly kind of you, but why this personal five-star New Orleans treatment?”

  “It is my understanding you ordered a private chef. I volunteered to prepare all your meals. I think I got you covered for the Nawlins’ flavor you desire. From crawfish etouffee, red beans and rice to jambalaya, I got you covered. Besides, I get to eat it too. I’ve about had it with these military rations and crap they serve here. We both get to eat well on the government’s dime.”

  Giles handed her a stack of papers; each contained a list.

  “What’s this?”

  “These are the things I cook extremely well. Please circle what you would like for lunch and dinner today as well as for your breakfast in the morning. I’ll do my best to accommodate your requests. Then, each morning, hand me your next menu selection.”

  “Again, that’s very kind of you.” She scanned the list, grabbed a pencil, circled several items, and then returned the list to Giles.

  “The General said you have thirty minutes to eat, change and get to the lab.”

  “Well, I can’t defy the General, now, can I?”

  “I wouldn’t advise it. Major Dwyer will escort you to the lab. If you need anything else during your stay, please let him know or request to speak to me. I’ll see to it within reasonable limits your needs are fulfilled.”

  Giles left and closed the door behind him.

  She glanced at the food and sat down. She tasted the oatmeal first and then ate all the fruit. I guess I was wrong about the green eggs.

  The sun rose over the black SUV with Agents Turner and Morrison still parked across the street from Dr. Bradford’s house. Another black SUV pulled alongside, stopped, and Lieutenant Commander Anderson’s receptionist, Private Chastain, rolled down the window. “Good morning, agents. I’ve brought reinforcements.” He handed Agent Turner two cups of coffee and a fast-food bag.

  “Thanks, it’s been a long night. Any word whether or not we’re going to be relieved anytime soon?”

  “Nothing. You have your orders from the General. I came by to bring you this document from the Commander.” He handed Agent Turner a large sealed envelope marked -- “Confidential.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Read it and weep.” Private Chastain rolled up the window as the SUV pulled away.

  Agent Turner opened the envelope and retrieved a sheet a paper with a message on it. “There has to be a law against this.”

  “Not when the government owns you.”

  “I guess not.” Agent Turner handed her partner a cup of coffee and a bagel.

  “Any cream cheese in there?”

  Agent Turner rifled through the bag. “Nope, just grape jelly. I still don’t know why we’re watching this house.”

  “Those are our orders, so don’t question them.”

  “What we should be questioning are the orders on this paper.” She handed it to him.

  “Orders are clearly defined.”

  Patrick sat at his desk; his eyes bloodshot with dark circles, his hair uncombed, and his clothes wrinkled. A bead of sweat formed above his upper lip.

  Henry strode over to Patrick. “You look like shit. Where’s Rebecca?”

  “Haven’t heard from her.”

  “You can’t go on air looking like that. If Rebecca doesn’t show, we’ll have to program a re-run.”

  “Now that I think of it, where is Rebecca when I need her? If it’s newsworthy, she never misses a show.” A tinge of blood oozed from Patrick’s left nostril. “I’ll keep calling her.”

  “You might want to think about calling a doctor too. You look like you’re on death’s door. Wipe your nose.”

  “This feels worse than the flu.”

  Jessica stood at the kitchen counter and poured a cup coffee as Rebecca sluggishly shuffled in. “The coffee smells great. I really could use a cup.”

  “I’m on my third. I’ll make more.” Jessica poured the remaining coffee into a mug for Rebecca and handed it to her.

  Rebecca blew across the hot liquid. “I contacted my sources. The only thing they confirmed is a secret lab experiment taking place in Arizona. Best guess, if the government took her, that is where she’ll be. Believe me, that’s a significant if.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Jessica sipped her coffee.

  “We won’t be able to get within two miles of the entrance. They have Presidential orders to shoot to kill trespassers. It’s a no questions ask mentality.”

  “Well, fabricate something. You’re a reporter, aren’t you? You have Freedom of the Press on your side.”

  “It’s not easy when you’re dealing with the government and national security.”

  “What about those agents?”

  “What about them?”

  “They can help us. They know where she is. You better believe that because they’re the ones who took her. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Jessica briskly strode to the living room as Rebecca followed. “Come see.” She searched through her purse and retrieved a business card and held it up. “This is Agent Morrison’s card.”

  “One thing I have learned on this job is don’t trust the government and especially don’t trust the FBI.”

  “I think we can trust him.”

  “I don’t think we can trust anyone but each other.”

  “So, we just sit here drinking coffee and do nothing for another day?”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  “Let’s call the agents. They’ll be able to help us. Do you have a better solution?” Jessica headed back into the kitchen, and Rebecca followed.

  “Frankly, I don’t.”

  “Then, give me a reason why we shouldn’t. They must know where she is. If they don’t, we can call foul play and call Stephen Stone Diamond.” Jessica just stood glaring toward Rebecca, and then she huffed.

  Rebecca nodded her head. “Well, call them.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s your idea. So, yes, now!” Rebecca looked at the empty coffee pot. “I thought you said you were going to make another pot of coffee.”

  “Do you want me to call Agent Morrison, or make another pot of coffee? Exactly, where are your priorities?”

  “Call Agent Morrison now and see if they can come over and talk with us.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Sergeant Merritt and Major Dwyer escorted Dr. Bradford down the long-waxed military base corridor. As she passed certain areas, she glimpsed inside for any clues as to her location. Cheyenne Mountain, maybe? “You know, this place looks like something from Stargate. Sergeant Merritt, where are we?”

 
“We are currently in Section D.”

  “No, what part of the world?”

  “The United States, Ma’am.”

  “Give me a break, what city and state?”

  “I am not authorized to reveal that information.”

  “I know, it’s a matter of national security.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  The entourage kept their pace until they reached the lab door guarded by Private Woods. He saluted the Major as he approached.

  “You’re released, Private.” He took his leave.

  Sergeant Merritt placed her hand on the electronic fingerprint scanner to unlock the door. The lock clicked open. “Dr. Bradford, I’ll return in four hours. Major Dwyer will stand guard. Have a great day.”

  “Thank you.” Dr. Bradford entered the lab. As the door closed behind her, she placed her journal on the desk and then double-checked the door to make sure it was secure. I need a plan. She struggled to move her desk in front of the door as a barricade, but it was too heavy. “Damn it!” She strode to the tank and lifted the corner of the sheet and stared into it. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “Unbelievable.”

  Two taps on the door sent her rushing toward it as Giles entered carrying a mid-sized box.

  “Perfect. Hopefully, those are the supplies I ordered. Just put it on the counter, and I’ll take care of the unpacking.”

  “Let me assist you.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Your presence would contaminate the environment once I open the tank. The less contact from others, the less likely for contaminants. So, please, leave it, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Very well, but if you change your mind, just ask me.”

  “I can’t chance contamination. Now that I think of it, I am missing my New Orleans Beignets.”

  “Beignets?”

  “Small white powdery donuts from New Orleans. You think you can manage that?”

  “I know what they are. I’ll see what I can do.”

  If they came within a reasonable time, I must still be close to New Orleans.