Protocol 1337 Read online

  I grabbed the emails and sat down at my new desk. The small green shaded lamp gave me plenty of light, but Redneks chicken scratches are nearly impossible to read. The first email was just a simple letter to confirm the user was receiving and decoding each message correctly. During the course of a few more emails, a few details started to emerge.

  They are negotiating a price for an item retrieved from a cave in South America. It is some type of rock with high scientific value. Apparently, HDI wants to sell it to an unnamed buyer in Germany, but this individual is willing to steal the item and sell it to Homestake for a very substantial sum of money. The next few emails are negotiations over the price. The remaining emails are about payment methods and delivery instructions. The transaction had just recently been finished, and I would imagine the HDI employee is no longer employed by them and not likely even in the US anymore.

  I need to give Reese an update and plan our next course of action. I pick up the phone on my desk and, conveniently enough the buttons are already programmed with important numbers. I hit the button labeled Director Reese and wait for him to answer. I tell him to meet me at the CCC, and I would tell him everything. I grab my USB drive and jog down the hall to the elevator.

  Inside the CCC, I start playing some solitaire while I wait for Reese. I didn’t even get a chance to finish my game before Reese walks in. “I called a friend about the Homestake operation and got some information about what we are dealing with. More importantly, about who was in charge.” Reese says.

  “Well sir, Rednek cracked the cypher, and I read over his notes. Someone at HDI stole an item of high scientific value. The item was retrieved from inside a cave in South America. Homestake purchased it for a lot of money; this all went down a few weeks ago. The exact nature of the item is hard to pinpoint. I'm not a microbiologist so I didn’t understand all the technical terms. What I can say for sure is the item has been placed under the care of Dr. Richard Cox, a microbiologist at Homestake.” I explain.

  “This is all a little too convenient for me to be comfortable with it. Well, agent Haus, it seems I need to make some phone calls and confirm a few things. Good work son, how about taking the rest of the night off?” Reese stands up and scratch’s the back of his head before entering the elevator.

  Reese seems pretty uneasy by all of this, and I take that as a not good sign. Since I have been granted leave, I think I will take advantage of that. I head back to my room and make myself comfortable. I turn on the TV to catch up with the news and open my fridge to see whats inside. “Sweet mother of god!” I exclaim. The whole fridge is filled with all my favorite foods, endless cans of energy drinks, sausages, assorted fruits and vegetables. Every square inch of the thing was filled with something. So I grab some breaded mushrooms, cheese in a can, some celery sticks, summer sausage, and ranch dressing. Now that's what I call a meal right there. It's about as good for me as drinking bacon grease, but I already died once, what's one more time?

  I decided to stop watching the news after a few minutes. Too depressing, and besides, it doesn’t apply to me anymore. I don’t really care if there is a war going on. I’m deep underground in a bunker. I don’t pay taxes, and to the best of my knowledge, I don’t have to follow any laws. How can you arrest someone who doesn’t exist and is technically dead? After I got done eating, I was starting to nod off watching cartoons. Once my head hit the pillow, it was lights out. How could a bed like this even exist? It feels to me like it cost a million bucks and who am I to argue?

  I wake up the next day at the crack of noon and slide into my shower. I loaded up my favorite playlist, and I gotta give it to the designer, the idea to network every electrical outlet in the place was a sheer stroke of genius. Mounting speakers into every ceiling ensures I never miss a beat of a song or movie. That reminds me, I need to ask Reese to have a touch screen installed for me to use while I am on the throne.

  I get dressed then head to the CCC to actually do some work, if you call it that. I see Rednek and Reese staring at something on the monitor. When I make my way to my station, I see a set of battle fatigues with my name embroidered on the pocket.”Glad you could finally show up, Haus. You might want to get used to the idea of sticking to a rigid schedule.” Reese says.

  “What is this all about Reese?” I ask.

  “Well agent you are being given another mission. You are going to Homestake, you are now a member of the US Army. Congratulations. Get your uniform on, and Rednek here is going to cut your hair.” Reese chuckles. Rednek waves a pair of hair buzzers and flashes what few teeth he has left in a big smile.

  “Here's your identification and appropriate documentation. You have been inserted directly into operations. To make it easy for you to acclimate, your new name and title are Antone Haus SPC. SPC standing for specialist. Your area of specialization may sound important, but you are gonna be a glorified body guard. If anyone asks, you qualified for Special Operation Thunder Clap after boot camp and have spent the last 10 years there. You are not allowed to disclose any information about your service, including where you went to boot camp. If anyone presses for more information direct, them to contact their superior about Thunder Clap.” Reese explains.

  I reach out to feel my almost bald head. At least Rednek left me a tiny bit of fuzz up top. I am not very excited about my new assignment but I have to make do with what cards are dealt me. It is far too late to reconsider my options. The only thing that troubles me is Eve. Will I ever see her again? The only good thing I can make of this is that I am a naturally good liar. Reese wants me to bullshit my way through a top secret army installment. That’s a pretty tall order even for the most gifted bullshitter. At least he gave me a fall back with the Thunder Clap bit. I can work with that, and just maybe pull this off.

  I strip down and get on my army drab gear. Once I place the hat upon my nearly bare skull, I actually feel like I am a soldier. I stand before Reese and Rednek. “You looks like a killa. A mean mofo, gonna do good I tinks.” Rednek says.

  “Not exactly soldier of the year, but it should pass for now. Haus I cant emphasize this enough. Under no circumstances are you to screw this up. I am already going out on a limb, and I am cashing in favors left and right. For your sakes boy, you better be right. If this explodes in my face, rest assured I will have your ass hanging from a Saguaro cactus. If your lucky the coyotes will eat your balls before the vultures do.” Reese threatens.

  I think I have heard enough pep talks today. Reese informs me that my chopper ride is already in flight. I don’t have time to gather any personal affects, and he considers any delay a direct violation of order. He throws me an army duffel bag, already packed, I just hope it has enough toilet paper to make me through. I scramble to the elevator, and hit the Ground one button.

  I can hear the chopper ascending down as I exit the elevator door. I am still 300 yards from the exit of the hanger, let alone another 75 yards to the helipad. So I heave my massive duffel bag over my shoulder, and start out in dead sprint for the helipad. Once I reach the helicopter, the pilot is not amused by my tardiness. He screams at me...”Get in the damn bird! We gotta go!” I throw my bag inside, and I jump inside the chopper. Not a moment too soon, because the pilot is already lifting off from the helipad.

  Once in the air, I watch as my former fortress shrinks underneath my feet. This heavenly bird is lifting me up like an angel ascending to heaven. Soon the ground beneath me becomes alien. Up and away we journey, and I look out with child like excitement. The life I used to know is gone now, only my future remains. The whir of the choppers blades is like a sweet symphony serenading me to sleep. I give in, and I succumb to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Double Delta

  Once we touch down, I am jolted awake and ready for action. I see a young man motioning to me. I grab my gear and exit the chopper. I hold my head down out of instinct. I follow him to a hangar, about 30 yards out from the landing zone.

  “Welcome to the Homestake Mine, head into the
main hanger for further instructions.” He directs. I walk into what I think is an aircraft hangar, but am quickly confronted with a series of offices. An attractive young lady, dressed in a blue skirt, informs me that I am to see General Carl Stratton. She walks me over to his office, and I notice there is a gone fishing sign hung on his door. She opens the door and lets me inside. I walk inside and see the walls are decorated with fish mounts. Each is of a different species with a wide variety of sizes. On his desk rests a very large Channel Catfish.

  “That’s old Nelly, biggest channel cat I have ever caught. I thought for sure it was a state record, but it weighed in at 54.5 pounds. Come to find out, some guy in 1949 caught a 55 pounder. I tried to argue it with the state, about old scales being inaccurate, but they didn’t listen. Caught that monster just north of Mitchell. My wife was sitting on my lap when she hit the line. Knocked my wife flat on her ass, and in my excitement, I was only worried about landing the fish. She later forgave me once she saw this monster on land.” Stratton explains enthusiastically.

  “One hell of a fish SIR!” I say.

  “So you were part of Operation Thunder Clap?” Stratton asks.

  “I am not at liberty to speak about it SIR!” I reply.

  “Well first of all, you can drop the act. I know you are not a real soldier, and I wont even give you credit for trying to pass the part. Reese and I go back decades. On your defense, it will convince the bulk of them that you are some genius invited to an exclusive club. So let us just stick to the story, shall we?” Explains Stratton.

  “Absolutely sir, it is your BBQ, I am just bringing the potato salad.” I say.

  “Glad you see things my way. You have been assigned to Dr. Richard Cox. You are his personal body guard. I have explained to him, that due to the highly sensitive nature of his research, we are assigning him a body guard. You are to go to his office, pronto.” Stratton motions towards the door.

  Upon exiting his office, I am joined by the nice young lady in the blue skirt. She walks me over to the elevator and we descend. The doors open, and she guides me to a room with a placard reading. Dr. Richard Cox. I open the door then step inside.

  I see him from across the room. He has brown eyes, and what remains of brown hair, fitted with large circular glasses. His curly hair is almost out of this world. I can see the years claiming his auburn locks into gray nothingness.

  “Great, the babysitter is here. As if I don’t have enough to do around here, but I get to have someone look over my shoulder.” Cox shoots a smug look at me.

  “Please to meet you too. Should I try to shake your hand or just punch you in the face?” I reply. Cox seems to be taken by surprise. I am very serious about the threat. He reminds me of someone in grade school I used to pick on. The idea of landing a right hook to his jaw would brighten my day.

  “Charming, a nitwit, and a brute. I bet your parents are quite proud.” Cox replies.

  “Well, this is going to be fun now, isn’t it? You talk a lot of smack for a guy whose first and last name could be words for a penis. Should I call you Richard, Dick, Cox, or Dr. Double Dick? I reply sarcastically.

  “The name is Dr. Richard Cox. I didn’t spend a small fortune to be referred to by my surname.” Cox says in an authoritative tone of voice.

  “I will just call you doc. SO... What's up doc?” I have wanted to say that since I was a little kid. I sit down on a lab chair, then slowly rotate my-self around to pass time. Doc goes back to playing with some test tubes and other lab equipment. I wonder if he was born with a pocket protector? I bet his parents were really strict. I can picture him as a teenager watching out his window as the cool kids play games. Always wishing deep down inside they would invite him to play. Instead, he spent prom night organizing his next convention trip.

  A few very long hours pass as I watch him work. It is really hard to pass time when you literally have nothing to do. I finally reach my breaking point. I gotta get goody two shoes over there to start talking. “Got any kids?” I ask.

  “No, I don’t have time for a family. Besides, in my line of work, it is a little tough to get a date. Every woman I have ever met always wants to be just friends anyway.” Doc's admission confirms my theory so far.

  “Well, what do you do aside from playing with beakers?” I ask.

  “I’m a microbiologist. I work with tiny little organisms, and sometimes I can make them do cool stuff. Like genetically alter them to eat sulfur from waste collection ponds, tweak their genes a little here and there, make them reproduce faster, or tolerate extreme environments. My specialty is in extremophiles.” Cox explains.

  “Oh, you mean like those bugs that eat arsenic? Like the ones in a lake in California? I saw something about that on the internet.” I reply.

  “Yes, exactly! That’s what I am working on here. Take a look at this screen, you see the small gray blobs next to black there? Those are microbes I found in a sample. They are really special though. I thought at first it was surface contamination, but I harvested a sample from a non-handled area.” Cox starts to get very excited as he points at the microbes.

  “So what makes them so special?” I ask.

  “They are literally not from this planet. Completely alien and possibly the first confirmed case of extraterrestrial life.” Cox says.

  “No freaking way! Aliens like little green men kinda stuff? Now that is really cool, more than cool, that’s mind boggling.” I exclaim.

  Cox went on a long winded rant for quite a while. He got so caught up in his excitement, he wouldn’t let me get a word in. Some of the stuff went over my head and some of the words were hard enough to hear, let alone repeat.

  According to an Aztec legend, a long time ago the Aztecs saw a meteorite crash into a hill. They retrieved it and held it sacred. They referred to it as the tear of the fire god. They placed it on the high altar during festivals. When word spread about the bad dealings of the Spanish false gods, the Aztecs hid the rock deep inside a sacred cave sealed inside a golden box. The legend also mentions that if anyone besides a holy man were to touch it, they would soon find death. The illness they received was said to turn one's body into fire. Scientists speculated that it was a form of radiation sickness. After it was found recently, there was a bidding war for it, and it found its way to Homestake. So what started out as a possible nuclear device became a rock containing alien microbes.

  “So aren’t you worried about this sickness?” I ask.

  “Hardly. First of all, the rock is hermetically sealed in that chamber over there. Second, the microbes are all dead. Lastly, I think the Aztecs were suffering from European diseases and passed the blame to the rock as a way to explain it. We don’t even know what the microbes do yet. They could be totally harmless or the next black death.” Cox explains.

  “Well, at least they are dead, and I feel a lot better now.” I say.

  “For now anyway, I am in the process of isolating its DNA so I can clone it.” Cox says. I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but every time humans try to mess with something, it never ends well. Hopefully, I will be very far away from here before he clones them.

  It has been a really productive day on my data collection mission, and I hope the good doc here quits at five. Then again, he is a career centered geek with nothing better to do. Great, I think to myself, I'm gonna be here till midnight.

  “Hey doc, are you ready to call it quits for the day?” I ask.

  “Not a chance, I still have a lot of work to get done. If you want to leave, that would be fine with me.” Cox replies.

  “I don’t wanna bail out on you early, but I got a phone call to my special lady I need to make. So if it is cool, I am going to bounce out of here.” I say.

  “Go right ahead, I will be fine here by myself.” Cox says.

  “You know doc, I know we got off to a bad start there. I really did enjoy talking to you today. You are working on some cutting edge stuff, and I can understand why you are so dedicated.” I say.

>   Cox turns away from his fume hood and looks at me curiously. The expression on his face is very different from before. Maybe this was the first time someone tossed him an olive branch by apologizing. Or maybe he was surprised that I actually wanted to hear what he had to say. Either way, I felt that tomorrow would be a radical change from today’s tone. I might have even misjudged him as well. Maybe I didn’t even give him a chance like so many people before me. Is it possible that I just rat holed him into a stereotype nerd? At that moment, I vowed to myself I must help this man learn to relax.

  “Thank you... Since you never introduced yourself I would assume it is alright to call you Haus. That is how the army boys address each other, is it not, supplementing the surname as the first name? See you in the morning Haus, and have a good night's rest.” Cox says.

  “Yeah, that’s how it works. Anyway, I gotta run and see you in the morning.” I scramble back above ground, and then realize I don’t know where I am supposed to go. Luckily, my little friend in the blue skirt is still around.

  “I got caught up in the all the excitement today, and I don’t know what area my quarters are assigned to.” I am failing at my act of being a soldier and luckily she doesn’t catch on. I seriously need to learn my lingo if I can pull this off.

  “You mean your bunk. It is 44d and located at the west end near the mess hall. This might help you, it is a map of the area. I will mark your bunk for you and a few areas to help you find your way.” She doodles on the paper for a bit and hands it back to me. I take the time to look at her desk placard for her name.

  “Thank you so much, Shirley, you have been more than helpful. I owe you big time for this. I love your perfume, it smells divine and fits your personality perfectly.” I add in my best gay guy voice for bonus points. Personally, I think her perfume is way too strong and smells like burning tires in a salvage yard.