Lost Time (The Bridge Sequence Book Two) Page 4

  3

  Instead of waiting for darkness, we opted to scope out Hunter’s mansion in the daylight. The streets were quiet after the recent snowfall, but our van was stuck behind a snow plow a few blocks from our destination. Veronica was driving ahead, and she’d departed a half hour before us. Right now, she’d be parked at a church, five minutes away from Hunter’s, waiting on our word.

  Hunter’s neighbor’s gate was open, and the fresh snow lacked any tracks, so we headed there, hoping no one was home. The place wasn’t as nice as Hunter’s, and looked like the exterior needed some TLC, but the lights were off. He pulled toward the four-car garage to the right of the house, and it gave us a great view of Hunter’s through the windshield. The front porch light was on, and we watched for an hour, not seeing anyone in the windows.

  “Maybe it’s empty,” Marcus said, breaking the silence of the stakeout.

  “Is the security system on?” Tripp asked.

  “It’s on, but only partially active,” he replied.

  “What does that tell you?”

  Marcus paused to consider it, but I answered for him. “Someone’s in there, and they have the door and window alerts on, but not the motion sensors.”

  “We need to time this properly. Once the maid opens the front door to let Veronica in, the system will be off. We’ll sneak in the rear patio simultaneously,” Tripp said.

  We’d used those doors before, but I struggled to recall the type of handles on them. “Can you open them?”

  Tripp snickered at my comment. “Don’t worry about me. You remember the plan?”

  “Marcus and I will head to his office and search for a hidden door, while you comb the lower level.”

  “That’s it. Marcus, you locked in to the cameras yet?” Tripp asked.

  “Almost there…” Marcus stuck his tongue out, like he always did when he was concentrating extremely hard. “Bingo.” He swerved the computer around and shuffled his position so we could all see it. “For a rich guy, he probably should have better security.”

  “Let’s take the wins when we can. Who’s inside?” I watched as Marcus scanned through the various cameras. Most of them were on the outside of the property, but I saw a shadow walk past one near the front door.

  “Someone’s in there,” I said, and Marcus focused on that area. The figure had disappeared.

  Tripp offered me my cell phone. “Let’s have Veronica move in place.”

  I sent her a quick text telling her we were ready. I added a quick “be careful” at the end, and hit send. “Marcus, can you still block the cell towers out here?”

  “You bet. On your mark.”

  “Do it.” I checked my cell, seeing the bars vanish from my network.

  “It will be noticeable, but with the storm, it might not seem so abnormal,” Marcus told us.

  “Come on. Time to shine,” Tripp said. The fence continued between the two properties, but stopped as we neared the beach. The sky was still cloudy, and it felt like we were on display, sneaking around these mansions in the middle of the day. I peered at the ocean and hopped to the snow-covered beach behind Tripp. My stomach ached as we went, but the wound was healing nicely.

  We entered Hunter’s property from the beach access and heard the beeping of a snow plow ringing out across the yard. I spied the flashing orange light from the maintenance vehicle next door, and understood why the gate was open. They’d ordered their driveway to be plowed after the storm.

  The snow was pure white, untouched by any footsteps, and I peered at the helicopter landing pad where Hunter had departed the same day he’d roped us into this whole mess. Not that we’d needed much convincing.

  Tripp’s hand drifted for the inside of his jacket, probably instinctively searching for a pistol. He wasn’t armed, but I knew the man was capable of many things regardless. Tripp froze in place, stopping us as we neared the rear patio, and waved us forward a minute later, touching a finger to his lips. We hunched near a window and waited for the sound of a car arriving out front.

  Even from this far away, I could hear the electronic buzz as the front gates opened. The powerful sound of the Mercedes engine drifted through the crisp air, and it slowed. Tripp and I dared to peek through the kitchen window, remembering it gave a sightline to the front foyer, albeit a slim one.

  A woman in a retro maid’s uniform walked to the entrance. That must have been who we’d seen on the camera. We’d discussed the possibility of the Believers imbedding more than just Francois in Hunter’s life, but doubted it. Time would tell.

  Tripp hopped to it. He had the patio lock picked and was turning the handle in under a minute while I watched the front door open, revealing Veronica, wearing a lengthy white jacket and oversized sunglasses. We slipped inside cautiously, wiping our shoes on the mat.

  The conversation from the other room carried to us, and I smiled as I heard Veronica speaking. “Hi, sorry about the intrusion, doll. My cell phone isn’t working, and I passed a young mother out there, stuck in a ditch. She hit a tree, but they seemed okay. Her son is scared, and I offered to find help.”

  The maid didn’t respond for a moment. “I’m not supposed to let people inside when the owner is away.”

  “This is a big house. Are you the only one here? Maybe someone could assist me,” Veronica said. Coming from anyone else, it might have been telling, but from her, she only sounded concerned for the woman in the accident.

  “The rest of the staff has been sent home. We were told the owner wouldn’t be back for a while,” the maid said.

  “About the phone… do you have a landline?” Veronica asked, and we made our move.

  Marcus and I jogged for the stairs, and Tripp crept silently down the hall away from us. I peered around the corner, seeing Veronica’s back as she was led toward the dining room. We stepped cautiously up the flight of stairs.

  Hunter’s office was there, door unlocked. It looked so comfortable in the darkness: the supple furniture and grand wood shelving, showcasing his collection of what he’d claimed were alien artifacts. “Where would it be?” We’d never seen a room with a computer in this house, but Tripp was adamant he’d heard Hunter mention it. Didn’t every mansion hold secrets within its walls?

  We kept the lights off and began to search. After tugging on the books and scouring the entire shelving unit, we’d found nothing. Veronica couldn’t hold the woman’s attention for too long.

  “Guys.” It was Tripp, standing in the hallway. He had a gun on him, and he appeared much more comfortable with it than without. It had a silencer protruding from the barrel. “I found something in the basement.”

  “I didn’t know this place had one,” Marcus whispered.

  At the end of the hallway, there was a second set of stairs I hadn’t noticed on the first couple of visits, and Tripp moved down them quickly, leading us to two doorways on the bottom.

  “Where did you find the gun?” I asked him.

  “He showed me his armory last time.” Tripp opened the door on the right and tapped the light switch. The steps were narrow, without a handrail. They continued for twenty steps, and we were met with another roadblock.

  “How do we break past this?” Tripp asked Marcus. The door was solid metal, with a keypad in place of a handle.

  Marcus shrugged. “I’ve never seen this before. I suppose I could…” He set his computer down and used a miniature screwdriver to pry the cap off the screen. There were a few skinny wires connecting to an intricate board.

  “Can you do it?” Tripp asked.

  “I… This isn’t in my wheelhouse.”

  Tripp grabbed Marcus by the arm and hauled him aside. He motioned us away and fired at the keypad. The bullet connected with a ping of his suppressor, and I heard the click of a bolt. He tested it, and the thick metal slab swung inward.

  “What if that hadn’t worked?” I asked him, trying to listen for disturbances from above.

  “It did, so who cares?” Tripp went in first, gun raised,
and lights turned on at his movement. The space was lined with metal walls, and I peered up to see the ceiling made from the same material. A sizeable silver box sat in the corner, and Marcus dashed for it.

  He muttered something while attempting to connect his laptop to it, and Tripp surveyed the room. It was big, with comfortable-looking furniture placed in an organized fashion. One thing was clear: the space had been designed for a single person. There was only room for one at a round table. A chair sat beside a table with a reading lamp.

  “I can’t find them, but if we want to get out of here…”

  Tripp cut Marcus off. “Take as much as you can. Use the backup drive.”

  Marcus did, transferring files as quickly as the processor would let him.

  I circled the room, stepping over the dull metallic floor. It had a slight golden sheen to it, and I stopped at the desk in the corner. A device sat in the middle of the surface, and it wasn’t plugged into anything.

  It was the size of a cell phone and weighed about half as much as mine. It was clear, with silver wiring around the edges, embedded into the material.

  “What’s that?” Tripp asked. Besides the external drive Marcus was extracting data from, this was the only other object of interest in the entire space.

  “I don’t know.” It lit up as my fingers touched the top, and lights blasted across the metal room. I froze, not wanting to move. Sounds emerged from invisible speakers, and I recognized the language as the Unknowns’.

  “What the hell is going on?” Marcus asked.

  “You tell me,” Tripp grunted.

  Marcus pointed at the clear device locked in my grip. “It’s talking to us.”

  “What’s she saying?” I tried to listen to the words, but they were so foreign, I couldn’t make sense of them.

  “It’s a message. A communication from someone. How did Hunter get this?” Marcus squinted his eyes.

  “Why would he have a recording from the Unknowns?” Tripp asked as he scoured the area, possibly looking for any new signs of the alien race.

  Marcus had returned to his computer and was already unplugging everything. “Maybe we’ll learn more with this.” He patted the closed laptop and shoved it into his backpack, along with the external hard drive.

  “Take that.” Tripp pointed at the device in my hands, and I touched it, trying to halt the volume. Eventually, I found an off switch, and it stopped, the room reverting to silence.

  Marcus thought we’d secured Hardy’s files, but an entirely new mystery had revealed itself. Why did Hunter have this message? Was it from the Believers or the aliens themselves? Who was the man we’d worked alongside? I hoped Marcus’ computer held the answers.

  With the clear apparatus stowed in my jacket pocket, I checked my cell phone to see the tower was up and running.

  Tripp went over to the tall data storage and unplugged it. He asked Marcus how they could fry the hardware, and they began to dismantle it without any mercy. Tripp and Marcus stomped on a few large boards, and when Marcus was confident it was destroyed, we rushed for the exit. My phone vibrated.

  Veronica -– I’m gone. She let me use the phone, but I couldn’t convince her to come with me.

  “Maid’s upstairs alone,” I relayed to them as we left, closing the door with the broken keypad behind us.

  “So the alarm is on,” Tripp said.

  “We can try to turn it off.” Marcus started up the steps. “If we find the—”

  “Don’t bother. We better hurry. It’ll be faster to risk it. Cameras are off?” Tripp asked.

  “I didn’t reactivate them,” Marcus said.

  “Follow my lead.” Tripp stopped on the first floor and pressed the door open, peeking inside. He waved us in, and the maid screamed before I saw her.

  The woman tried running, but Tripp chased her down, grabbing hold of her arm. “Stop yelling!”

  She did, but tears came quickly. “What do you want?”

  “Do you remember us?” Tripp asked, and I saw recognition in her eyes as she nodded.

  “You were Mr. Madison’s guests,” she coughed out.

  “That’s right. Have you ever heard of the Believers?” Tripp held his pistol but didn’t aim it at her.

  She shook her head. “Where is Mr. Madison?”

  “Why are you here by yourself?” My voice cracked as I spoke.

  Her gaze met mine. “Francois sent everyone home. I told him I wouldn’t go. Mr. Madison asked me to keep watch unless he ordered otherwise. So I stayed.”

  “Tripp, she’s no danger. Let’s leave,” I suggested.

  “We never came here. Understood?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Continue on, like everything is normal. Anyone asks, you spoke to Mr. Madison a couple days ago. You have no clue where he is,” Tripp continued.

  “Okay.”

  “When this is done, I’ll return and pay you a hundred thousand dollars—if you live up to your end of the bargain,” he finished. She was an older woman, short and graying, and her eyes went wide at the mention of the sum.

  We returned to the kitchen, leaving through the patio doors we’d entered. The sound of the plow was gone when we strolled to the van next door, but a pile of snow sat behind the parked vehicle.

  “Great, we need to leave. She might contact someone.” Tripp began kicking at the accumulated white snowpack, and I joined him, Marcus helping once he stuck his backpack into the van. It took a couple of extra minutes, but we had the path cleared, and Tripp once again took the driver’s seat, throwing it into reverse. The tires spun, but finally caught, sending the van backwards.

  An hour or so after pulling in, we were leaving with the information we’d been after, and a new revelation.

  We drove away, turning in the opposite direction of our rental house. Tripp looped around a few blocks, making his trail harder to follow, and ten minutes later, we merged on the main road, returning to Montauk.

  4

  Rimia: Day 2

  Dirk woke under the dome, light piercing its way through the tempered glass. His neck ached from a night on the stone floor, and he rolled over, sitting up. He’d been dreaming: not of aliens and adventure, but of someone’s simple life. He’d been a man, French perhaps. Dirk went to work in a fancy office, carrying a black leather briefcase. He even remembered eating soup for lunch and sitting in on a boring meeting. As far as dreams went, it had been quite vivid, but ridiculously mundane. Quite the opposite of what he expected after traveling to another world.

  “Clay?” he called. There was no sign of his friend.

  Instead of exploring the day before, they’d stuck around, eating a small meal from their meager supplies. Clayton hadn’t wanted to venture far from the Bridge, in case it reopened. Of course it hadn’t, as Dirk had suspected. He wished he were wrong on that front. They were stuck here.

  Dirk stretched his back, his spine popping as he rose. Where was Clay? His pack was still there.

  The moons were on the opposite side of the sky, pale and almost see-through in the morning sunlight. The hazy blue star felt offensive to Dirk’s senses, but he was slowly coming to accept it. The human brain is a miraculous thing. When you see something it doesn’t understand, because there’s no reference point, it causes a person to grow wary, to suspect evil is afoot. After a while you begin to accept the sight as stable, as safe, or at the very least, as definable.

  “Clay!” He continued to shout as he walked down the auditorium steps.

  He noticed his friend near an exit toward the city. A mist rose from the buildings, a dense fog covering most of the damaged structures.

  “Dirk, you’re up!” Clayton seemed excited, a far cry from the disheveled man he’d talked off a ledge last night.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Nowhere.” Clayton’s glasses were broken from his fall yesterday, but his leg appeared to be stable after a night’s rest. “Went for a walk around this building. I heard animals, like the song of birds at
dawn.” He smiled.

  “Birds… incredible.” Dirk figured they’d better make the most of their time here. They gathered their belongings, drinking some water and eating the second half of their rationed dinner from yesterday.

  They took turns standing guard while they relieved themselves in a forested region a hundred yards from the dome, and commenced the trek to the distant city. Dirk heard the aforementioned animals, but they sounded more like squirrels to him than birds. He scanned the skies, finding nothing flying above.

  “Clay, we’re the first humans to step foot on this planet. If I wasn’t so afraid, I’d consider it remarkable,” Dirk admitted.

  Clay squinted at him, nodding along. “Maybe this won’t be so bad. They’ll come for us, and in the meantime, we can explore it. Record things. Who were these people? Where did they go?”

  “I wish someone was here,” Dirk told him. They’d made this trip to recruit help against these Unknowns the Believers swore were coming.

  “Maybe there are no Unknowns,” Clay said, as if reading his mind. “Then it won’t matter that they’re not here.”

  Dirk considered this and couldn’t fault the logic. He hoped the Unknowns were a fictitious entity made up by the cult as well. “Did you dream last night?”

  Clay cocked his head, like he really needed to ponder the question. “Not that I can recall. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” The vivid dream still lingered in Dirk’s mind.

  “What do you think? Take a walk?” Clay pointed to the path where the ground was thrashed in a deep fissure, cutting their direct line off.

  “Why not?” Dirk hurried after Clay, who was moving with purpose and without a care in the world.

  Dirk was uneasy in this place. He pulled the revolver from his pack and spun the chamber open, ensuring he was loaded. He’d packed the bullets himself but wanted to be certain.

  He took stock of their surroundings, and they discussed what they could see from here. “I’d estimate we’re three miles from the limits, wouldn’t you?”