Melanie arrived at the prearranged pickup point ten
minutes ahead of schedule Friday morning. She stepped out
of the car and scanned the area for any sign of Brad or
Carl, but was unable to see anything in the darkness. It
occurred to her that if she couldn't see them, then they
couldn't see her. Carl had been quite clear about her not
trying to signal them or leaving her lights on. The thought
that they might not be able to find her, worried Melanie,
but she was not one to disobey her instructions.
That's not to say that Melanie Chatham was mindless or
submissive. Quite the contrary. Actually, Melanie was
furiously independent when it came to running her life
because she was aware that she was responsible for her
actions. Yet, she tried not to allow her independence cloud
her judgment. If she felt she was right, and could live
with the consequences, she would defy all odds against her
as she had done when she chose to nurture her psychic powers
rather then suppress them as her father had suggested. If,
on the other hand, it was apparent that someone else had
more experience at a task, she would bow to their authority.
The fact that she was psychic, helped her distinguish
between the braggers and the doers.
She could tell Carl knew what he was talking about, so
she did as she was told. She could also sense Brad's
potential for greatness and his drive for justice.
Brad had a power about him that motivated her to move
to his side; to help him achieve his higher destiny.
Melanie felt a bond to him that transcended time and space,
that pulled her to him, that made her want to be with him,
even though she realized that he was still too arrogant and
immature to harness the energy within himself. It would
take time before he overcame his detractions, and she would
not allow herself to open up to him on a spiritual level
until he had.
Melanie relaxed, cleared her mind, and reached outside
the car to feel for Carl and Brad. She found Carl moving
steadily toward the car, his mind churning and his aura
boiling. Brad trailed behind... his mind screaming
desperately... body crying in pain. He whimpered and whined
inside, but suppressed the desire to let out his misery.
She could sense how close to the edge he was... She could
sense that Carl was totally unconcerned...
"Hello there, Missy. You seemed to have found the
place alright-- I knew I could count on you."
"Brad doesn't look so good," stated Melanie staring
into the blackness before her.
Asher tossed his pack into the back seat, then turned
to look into the night. He could see nothing. Even when
straining his eyes, the best he could do was to see a faint
outline bobbing across the valley. "How in the hell can you
tell that? I can barely see him."
"I wasn't looking with my eyes."
"Girl, you're in the wrong line of work. If you ever
want to make some big money, let me know. You and me
together, we could be rich like you've never dreamed."
"Sorry, Carl. There are some things in life more
important than money."
"Oh, I agree. For instance, a healthy supply of
ammunition is always important," jabbed Asher.
"I was thinking more about a clear conscience."
"Hey, I've got a clear conscience. I have no trouble
sleeping at night or looking at myself in the day."
"Conscience is the most basic element of your soul. If
your soul is not at peace, you can not travel beyond the
bounds of your Earthly existence. Some people confuse
absence of a soul with being at peace with their
conscience."
"Oh... I see. And might I be one of those people?"
inquired Carl.
The starlight glistened in the blue of Melanie's eyes
as she looked into Asher's face. "Indeed you might."
Carl laughed. "I like a woman with spunk. We really
would make a good team."
"I get the feeling you also like your women a little
less... shall we say, developed, than me."
Carl laughed again, as he stepped forward to meet Brad.
He had figured he better get to him before he fell on his
face. He grabbed Brad's pack and helped pull it off while
Brad staggered toward the car. "I made it," panted Brad in
a barely audible whisper. "I made it..." Without even a
simple hello, he pushed the driver's seat forward, and
collapsed into the back seat. By the time Asher put his
rucksack in the car, Brad was already asleep.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Melanie.
"He's just a lightweight. You know: unaccustomed to
little sleep, long hours, and serious physical exertion. I
guess you could say this was probably his first honest day's
work in his life. He'll be okay after a few hours sleep."
Melanie turned the Mustang around on the narrow dirt
road, and started toward Las Vegas. "Did you find
anything?"
"Yeah, we found something unusual. In the middle of
that bombing range are several simulated camps and airfields
used as targets. One of them is not a simulation. It has
four quanset huts, three barracks with blacked out windows,
a communications shack with a huge satellite dish, and a
helipad big enough for a dozen choppers."
"Maybe it's a helicopter airport, then."
"Not likely. First off, there wouldn't be any logical
reason to put it in the middle of the bomb range. Second,
if it were an airfield, if would have refueling facilities,
but there wasn't a road to drive a fuel truck over. The
only way in is by chopper. Third, the pad was big enough
for a dozen choppers; it only had one."
"Your boyfriend might be right: it may be some type of
holding compound. It wouldn't make much sense to have that
large a landing area or a sophisticated satellite
communications system for a jail, but then the military
isn't known for its rational decisions."
"Do you think you can rescue Roger?"
"Yeah, it won't be that tough. I counted two guards on
foot patrol inside the wire; no towers. The fence was a
standard eight foot chain link with concertine wire on top;
no big deal." Asher yawned and fell silent. Melanie did
not bother him with any further questions, and he soon fell
asleep.
As the sun rose and bathed the Ford's interior with its
warm light, Melanie found herself glancing in the rearview
mirror at Brad. He still lay completely motionless in the
back seat where he had fallen on Carl's pack. The thought
crossed her mind that if it had not been for rapid eye
movement, a casual observer might have mistaken him for
dead-- he certainly looked the part. Most of Brad's face
was sunburned, his lips were chapped, and his limbs were
sprawled about like a rag doll's.
Even after sleeping the entire trip back to Melanie's
office, Brad was not rested enough to operate effectively.
Asher wrestled him out of the car and into the bathroom of
the converted house. For several moments, he held Brad in
the shower (boots, uniform, and all) until he was
sufficiently awake to undress himself.
Brad managed to clean two nights worth of Nevada from
his body, and make himself look reasonably presentable, even
though he was so sore it hurt to think. He left the
bathroom a disaster, passed Asher on his way in with a
garbage bag, and proceeded to the kitchen. Melanie was
waiting for him with a cup of coffee and some donuts she'd
bought yesterday.
"Are you going to make it?"
"Give me a year or two, and I'll be good as new,"
stated Brad, confident that it was true.
"Carl said the two of you would be leaving when he was
finished cleaning-up, and asked me to find a two cabins out
of town that were free for the weekend. He asked me to tell
you to arrange a meeting with your partner. Who was he
talking about?"
"A man in LA. He's paying Asher's fee."
"Does he know the truth about Roger?"
"Of course he does. If I hadn't told him, he wouldn't
have coughed up the five thousand bucks"
"What about Asher? When are you going to tell him?"
Brad stared at the creamy brown fluid in the mug.
"When the time is right."
"Brad... Don't mess with Carl; I don't want you to get
hurt."
Brad and Melanie shared a moment of silence, neither of
them wanting to say anything foolish. Without a word, Brad
rose from the table and drew Baker's private number from his
coat pocket. Baker answered on the second ring, and agreed
to meet them at a truckstop a hundred miles east of Los
Angeles. Before Brad could get comfortable, across a small
table from Melanie, Asher walked into the kitchen.
"On your feet soldier!"
"I'm not a soldier," stated Brad flatly.
"You can say that again, boy. Kiss your sweetie good-
bye and let's hit the road."
Brad flashed Asher a disgusted look, then turned his
eyes back to Melanie to find her sipping her coffee, with a
hint of red in her cheeks. It wasn't that Asher had missed
the mark with his comment; Brad wanted to kiss Melanie
almost as much as he wanted to break the story about the
government cover-up. The problem was that he and Melanie
knew that this wasn't the right time or circumstance to
start a relationship. And that's what confused Brad so
much: the conditions seemed perfect for a red-hot love
affair, even if it was just a few hours of sweating between
the sheets, yet he felt that Melanie expected more.
Melanie rose from the table first with the grace of a
lioness, and led the way to the door. Brad, though
reluctant to leave, was more than happy to follow Melanie.
He watched her hips slide from side to side with each step
of her long blue-jeaned legs. Asher gained a cheap thrill
from watching Brad try to remain cool in the young lady's
presence, because he could spot unbridled lust when he saw
it. What Asher couldn't see was how hard the two of them
were fighting to transform it into something more
meaningful.
Asher steered the LTD toward the interstate, and
remained quiet until he had set the speed control slightly
above fifty-five. "Well, Dartmouth, you've made it a lot
further than I thought you would. Just think, you've only
got to make that hike one more time."
"One more time! What the hell are you talking about?"
Asher laughed sadistically. "That's the plan: we're
going to have to hike a rescue party in to get your man out.
You've done it twice already, a third time won't be any big
deal."
"What's your plan?"
"I'll go over it when we meet your money-man. What's
his name?"
"Baker," sighed Brad in a voice that still rang with
exhaustion.
Asher nodded, and let Brad start to slip into sleep.
"Yessir," he started loudly, startling Brad slightly. "That
girl is one good-looking filly. She's got an ass that just
won't quit." Brad gritted his teeth, and glared at Asher
with cold eyes. Asher noticed the stare, and continued.
"And what a set of knockers-- nice and plump, but not too
big. I hate to see a woman with sagging, floppy boobs. How
much do you she'd charge just to let me lick her tits?"
"Asher, that's enough."
"Oh, now... I'm not talking anything too involved:
just a little nibbling on her nipples."
"If you don't shut-up, I'll make you shut-up."
Asher laughed so hard he nearly lost control of the
vehicle. "Son, I'd rip off your head and shit in your neck.
Besides, we discussed it and decided she was too old for
me."
"Don't you mean too young."
"No. Too old. Some people say women are like wine and
improve with age. The fact is, when they start to age they
get flabby, their skin starts to show stretch marks, their
muscles begin to loosen up. All their muscles, if you know
what I mean."
Brad didn't really want to know, but he had to ask.
"Asher, how young are we talking?"
"The younger the better."
"Great. This is great. I'm stuck in a car with a
child molester."
"Child Molester! That's such an unpopular term. I
prefer to think of my sexual preference as leaning toward
Pre-pubescent Nymphettes."
"You're sick."
"What's sick about it? If a thirteen year old girl had
sex with a thirteen year old boy, you wouldn't call it sick.
You might object, but you wouldn't think it perverted or
deviant. It's not like I'm raping innocent, young, eighth
graders: there are two dozen whores who work Hollywood
Boulevard every night that can't even spell period, much
less have one."
"Having sex with minors is a felony."
"So's hiring a mercenary."
Brad turned away from Asher, and faced out the window
in disgust. For several moments he thought how terribly he
despised the man, but soon his lack of sleep overcame his
emotions. He drifted off with the singular thought that
Asher had proved once again that all he had heard about
soldiers, sailors, the military, and probably the police was
true.
Asher let Brad sleep and drove the rest of the way to
California with a smile.
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