Realization Read online

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One - Prologue

  Chapter Two - Mad Marvin

  Chapter Three - Bits and Pieces

  Chapter Four - A new day

  Chapter Five - The Infiltrator

  Chapter Six - The Interview

  Chapter Seven - Connections

  Chapter Eight - Recon

  Chapter Nine - Encounter

  Chapter Ten - Complications

  Chapter Eleven - Closure

  Author's Note

  About the Author

  For Kenzie, Izzy, Jarrett, Travis, and of course, Uncle Marvin.

  Special thanks to Michelle for putting up with my alien obsession.

  Continuing thanks to Eric H., John K. and Caryn B. for your unwavering help and support.

  Copyright 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Descriptions of towns, buildings, places, and things may or may not be accurate.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Prologue

  JB TUCKER, WITH his cousin Terry and Terry’s partner, Colin Trench, made their way quietly through the night. Ocracoke was in an uproar, but all of the action was on the other end of the island, where the Trench Family Estate once stood. A number of remarkable incidents had led to the destruction of what had once been considered a historical landmark. For the island’s residents, many questions remained unanswered, and because of the unusual circumstances surrounding the events of the last twenty-four hours, the actual story would never be known... At least not publicly. The three men that were wandering on the coastline under the cover of darkness knew the truth, but none of them would ever be inclined to share it willingly.

  "Alright, JB," Colin said, pointing to a rocky embankment. "There's a trail up there, jus' follow it up to the main road. It'll take you right into the waterfront business district, but before you get there, you'll see a black mailbox next to a side road. As far as I can remember, there's no street sign, but you'll know when ya see it ‘cause there are a mess of 'No Trespassing' signs all over the place. Not too far up the road, you'll find a long gravel footpath that'll take ya up to Mad Marvin's shack."

  Cousin Terry gave JB a severe look. "But, ya better be careful... They say that ol' coot don’t like visitors much.”

  “I’ll be sure t’ win him over with my dazzlin’ personality!“ JB said sarcastically. He was surprised that despite everything that had gone on that he still had a sense of humor. Especially when he considered that over the last few hours the three of them had escaped an FBI raid, survived several underground cave-ins and a few brutal alien attacks. He sobered slightly at the thought that a bunch of folks who attended the annual, "Righteous Sons of Real Freedom" pig-pull picnic fundraiser, including law enforcement personnel from an alphabet soup of government agencies, would never see the humor in anything again.

  "Like I told you, old Marvin's crazy," Colin said. "An' for sure, ya might be better off if you don't mention my name. My family and him have never been on the best of terms."

  "Then, why do y'all think he can help me?"

  "Because he's been on this alien shit for as long as I've known him. His son and my dad used to be friends. I heard that before he lost his marbles, he was a NASA engineer or something."

  "But, he's crazy? Right?" JB asked.

  "So they say," Terry added. "He doesn't get into town much, so you don't have to worry about not finding him home."

  "Okay, I think we better get goin'," Colin declared. He and Terry pulled off their bandoliers and unslung their assault rifles. They covered them up with several large tangles of matted seaweed that they dragged up from the nearby shoreline. "As much as I hate to, it's better to lose the heavy artillery," Colin said. "Considering everything that's happened, we don't want to attract any attention."

  “Place ‘ll be crawlin’ with Feds,” Terry added.

  "So, where y'all gonna get to?" JB asked.

  "Don't rightly know yet. First things first," Colin replied. "Jess..." He paused at the catch in his throat at the mention of his dead friend. The horror of that fatal event was still fresh in his mind, and merely mentioning his name had brought it all back. “Poor bastard, he had himself a twenty-five footer slipped over at the dock... Once we get onboard, we'll figure it out from there."

  Jess had been killed just hours ago, along with five other members of Colin’s “Righteous Son’s” militia group. Caught in the crossfire of an alien attack on JB, they had met their deaths in the secret underground tunnels built hundreds of years ago by pirates and smugglers. JB, Colin, and Terry had escaped by way of these to the coast, but during their ordeal, the ancient network of passageways had collapsed behind them, disappearing forever.

  Colin paused again and cleared his throat before he continued. “Might be that we'll sail over to the mainland somewhere before the Feds can figure out where we might have gone to. They've got plenty on their plate to worry about for now, but that won’t stop ‘em from lookin’ for us.”

  JB nodded and turned to his cousin. He was going to apologize again for bringing disaster to their doorstep, but before he could speak, Terry wrapped his arms around him.

  "Cuz, you take care of yourself. Colin and I are going to rethink this whole alien thing. Maybe we can figure out some way to help."

  "No, Terr,” JB insisted forcefully. “It'll only get y'all killed. Let me handle this. Promise me.”

  Terry nodded and said, "Okay, I promise.”

  JB was relieved to hear that. He certainly wasn't eager for them to put themselves in harm's way again.

  “But if you ever need us, you know we'll always be there for ya. Once all the heat dies down, we’ll get in touch.”

  "Thanks, Terr, If I need help, I'll keep that in mind," he lied. "Y'all take care."

  He scrambled up the rocky embankment while Terry and Colin began picking their way along the coastline towards where Jess's boat was slipped. Ideally, JB would have rather gone with them, but he was a lightning rod for trouble, and he wasn't going to put Colin and Terry in even more jeopardy by joining up with them. JB had the money Colin had given him, his cut from winning the beer drinking contest, but that would take him only so far, especially since he didn't want to retrieve his truck just yet. Hopefully, it would still be in one piece, as he had parked it a long ways off from the Trench Estate, thanks to his cousin's advice. But of course, there was no guarantee it would still be there.

  It was a given that after the disastrous events at the Trench Family Estate the whole area would be overrun with authorities. While they were investigating, he thought it would be an excellent time to make himself scarce. If his luck held, they might avoid somebody like "Mad Marvin," which would make his place ideal to hole up for a while… Provided he could persuade Marvin to let him stay. Besides, if there were even a slim chance that the crazy old man might be able to help him in some way, it would be worth it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mad Marvin

  JB CHECKED HIS cell phone and saw it was about an hour before sunrise as he walked down the narrow highway that led into town. He was relieved to find the Ocracoke Island waterfront town center was relatively deserted. At this hour, traffic was almost non-existent, and all of the shops were closed. He saw a couple of fishermen carting coolers over to the nearby docks in preparation for a day o
f fishing, but they paid JB no heed. Following Colin Trench’s directions, he hastily made his way past the main drag before he found the black mailbox and turned off onto the adjoining road that led inland. Like many of the roads in this rural island community, the narrow, asphalt street he was following was cracked and faded with age and the elements. Despite Colin Trench's directions it took him almost a half-hour to locate the signage that Colin had described. It was a yellowed, plastic-laminated paper stapled onto a scraggly pine tree. It read, "Private Property--Keep Out".

  He found the gravel path, which turned out to be a little more difficult in the pre-dawn darkness. Much of the gravel that once covered it had disappeared, leaving only the bare ground behind. He directed the tiny, alien sub-molecular automations in his bloodstream to modify his optic nerves so he could see more clearly. The path led up a small incline before it vanished amid a thick grove of oak and pine trees.

  Dawn was just beginning to break as JB stood at the base of the pathway, taking several moments to look around carefully. His constant sense of paranoia had become ingrained over the months that he had been on the run. Unfortunately, more often than not, he found that it was not undeserved; thus far, caution had served him well.

  He proceeded up the path as it wound through a thicket of scraggly brush and gnarled trees before ending at a chain-link fence with an equally rusty, metal "No Trespassing" sign. Undeterred by the warning, he followed the perimeter of the fence a short ways further until he came upon a gate. The broken latch had been replaced by a loop of baling wire that hung over an adjacent post. He lifted the wire off, swung open the gate on its stubborn hinges and entered the property.

  Fifty or sixty yards away, he saw a small wooden house. It was typical of island construction, raised off the ground to weather the occasional tropical storm or hurricane and had evidently done so for many years. The clapboard siding and the sagging front porch were long overdue for maintenance. The front windows were dark, and there was no indication that anyone was home, but because of the early hour, there was a good chance the occupant might be still asleep. He stopped walking and stood to contemplate his options. Even at the risk of waking Marvin up, he figured the direct approach was the approach, and began down the path, intending to walk up to the dark oak door and knock.

  A few feet further on, he stepped over a fallen tree limb that lay directly in his way and tripped into the large hole in the ground. Camouflaged and partially covered by the leafy branch he didn’t see the trap until it was too late. Caught completely by surprise, even his unnaturally quick reflexes couldn't stop his downward plunge onto the array of sharp spikes that lined the bottom of the pit. He twisted in mid-fall, barely managing to throw his weight over to one side before he landed, but it didn't change the outcome. He came down hard, and while he avoided the center of the trap, several of the sharpened, wooden stakes had pierced his hips and thighs all the way through.

  Even before the curse left his lips, the tiny alien robots in his bloodstream went to work, repairing ruptured blood vessels and blocking his pain receptors. JB was trapped by the penetrating spikes like a pinned moth in the narrow pit, unable to squirm free. Thinking fast, he used his 'Sawbonites', as he called them, to modify his arms. On his command, they lengthened them as though they were made of elastic, so he could stretch them upwards until his hands could reach the top edges of the pit. Once he secured his grip, he began to lift himself up. He struggled as he worked to lift himself off of the slender, but wickedly sharpened wooden stakes by shortening his arms. His progress was slow. The varying angles of the spikes that impaled him made his extrication difficult. Bit by bit, he wiggled free and leveraged himself out of the eight-foot hole with his foreshortening arms.

  By the time he had escaped the trap and scrambled up, and out of the pit, the Sawbonites in his system had entirely healed all of his injuries. The bloody holes in his jeans were the only evidence of his ordeal. JB was now thoroughly convinced that 'Mad Marvin' had to be totally out of his mind, and decided it was in his best interests to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. He rose to his feet and turned back towards the gate when he heard the unmistakable sound of a riot gun being cocked behind him.

  "Goddamn! You don't look like an alien, but I'm not taking any chances!" said the voice. "Turn around, real slow and keep your hands where I can see them!"

  JB did as he was ordered and turned to face the man holding the pump shotgun. He said, "Y'all got it wrong, I'm no alien..."

  "Bullshit!" the man spat back. He looked old... Very old. His black skin was wrinkled and lined from years of sun damage, and his thinning, kinky hair was a tangle of grey and white. He was squinting down the sight of the rifle at JB with watery, brown bloodshot eyes. In younger years he might have been nearly JB's height, but now he was hunched over with age. Even so, he hadn't given himself completely over to his years. There was no loose skin on his wiry arms, and ropy muscles tensed hard and taut as he gripped the ten gauge. A large, black Labrador retriever stood by his side. Both man and dog were scrutinizing JB with cold, unreadable stares.

  "My equipment doesn’t lie," he said matter-of-factly. "It clearly indicated that you are not a human being." The old man's eyes went to holes in JB's blood-stained jeans.

  "That ain't 'xactly true, sir," JB replied respectfully, keeping his voice calm and even. While he was convinced this man was batshit crazy, it was apparent to him that this situation could end badly were it to escalate further. Regardless, he found that he couldn't resist pointing out the truth as he saw it. He added, "But if I was an alien, that there gun wouldn't be of much use."

  “Is that so? However, I have other means," the man countered, his expression unchanged. He continued to keep JB in his sights but thankfully held his fire. Still staring at JB's jeans, he said, "Explain then, how you managed to survive my first line of alien defense!"

  "I got some stuff inside of me that helped. Anybody else would'a been killed, an' that there would'a been on you."

  "I'm only protecting myself... From aliens, like you. "

  "Like I said, I ain't no alien, but I got some of their stuff inside me… That’s what protects me."

  "So, are you meaning to infer that you got off-world tech inside you? And you still claim you're human? I'd say that's not very likely."

  JB could see the man's finger tighten on the trigger, preparing to fire. He had no doubts that he could survive the blast, but he had one last card to play. He said, “It’s true I got alien critters in my blood, but Colin Trench said that you might be able to help me with 'em. That's why I came."

  The old man, narrowed his eyes and JB could see the doubt forming there. "Trench? That bastard!" he said. Despite his retort, he did relax his grip on the weapon somewhat, though he still kept his finger curled around the trigger. "How is it that you know him?"

  "He an' my cousin Terry is... Partners. Colin sent me here after he an' Terry were almost killed by the aliens that were huntin' me. Colin said y'all might be able t' help me figure out how they keep on findin’ me."

  The old man lowered his weapon, but only slightly and managed a humorless chuckle. He said, "Shit! That's easy, boy. Their damn tech is broadcasting like there's no tomorrow. How do you think Jansky and I knew you were coming?"

  "What?" JB said, sounding more surprised than he was. He had suspected it was something like that, but the old man made it sound so obvious that he couldn't help but feel foolish for asking. “Well then, how do I make 'em s...?"

  JB’s question was interrupted by the projectile that struck him from behind, soundlessly and without warning. It hit him squarely in the upper back, propelling him onto the ground like a felled ox after drilling a quarter-sized hole through his shirt and burrowing into his skin. Compounding his shock and surprise, JB experienced excruciating pain. A sensation he had rarely felt ever since the alien medical protocols that he called Sawbonites, had infected his body. The hundreds of millions of sub-molecular robots coursing through his bloods
tream should have stopped the bleeding and prevented him from losing consciousness, but they didn't... Or couldn't. Instead, JB was lying senseless, face down in the dirt, as the alien revealed itself, gliding out from the cover of the nearby stand of trees.

  It ignored the dog and the old man despite the shotgun, and made no attempt to pursue them as they both quickly retreated out of sight. Instead, it made directly for JB, intent on completing the kill. It still held the weapon that fired the projectile, a weapon that was designed to debilitate, and not to kill. The being produced another device in its tentacles. It made the necessary adjustments to ensure that both it and the primitive would be teleported to its intended destination. There, the Abomination would be dissected and studied. Once and for all, it would reveal the mystery of how its stolen medical technology had evolved in ways never intended.

  Before the alien could initiate the transport, it was taken off guard by the fierce growls from the large, black dog that had suddenly materialized behind it. The off-worlder whirled around to confront its new adversary only to become aware of fast approaching vibrations that were coming towards it from the opposite direction. It maneuvered quickly on its tentacles, turning around again, but it was not quick enough. The immense impact from the massive tree trunk caught it head-on. The force of the wooden log, suspended by a chain from the motorized winch overhead, was more than enough to drive the crudely sharpened point, deep into the upper half of the alien. The impact completely macerated its torso and its small, triangular head.

  Knocked forcefully backward, the mangled mess of alien remains splattered onto the ground. 'Mad Marvin,' came out from inside of the house, where he had released his pendulum defense missile. He approached JB cautiously and crouched down beside him, while mindful of the wooden log that was still swinging from the rope and chain from which it hung.