Sleeper Seven (23 page)

"Oh sorry Bro, my B," he conceded, high-fiving the third Bro while emitting a seal-like laugh.

Beer-victim-Bro had something to say about the thing too, but only after knuckle-punching the first Bro in the family jewels as payback. "Dudes, I saw the crane though! There were wires coming down."

"Bullshit, dude! That was some Class-A Area 51 stealth fighter shit last night!" first Bro replied, high-fiving the dry Bro again.

Jess slinked away in her own stealth mode, unnoticed by the Toasted Bro Trio. She didn't need to go any further with this, she decided — it seemed everyone had their own explanation for what happened, regardless of what the media had told them. She was surprised and disappointed, however, that none of them seemed to have any deeper curiosity or interest in it, other than it being a good story. Nothing short of a full-on invasion, Orson Welles style, would have any
real
effect on them, she concluded.

Leaving the ballpark, Jess walked back home, dejected. All she had risked, and all the problems she caused in attempting to raise the curtain on these government secrets, had amounted to nothing more than an entertaining spectacle, soon to be forgotten.

Lost in her despair, she was already halfway home by the time she noticed the van.

~ 50 ~

I
t was plain white, an older model — just as Joel described — and it was trailing a block behind her. Though only early in the evening, its lights were already on, and she couldn't see who was driving through the tinted windshield. She sized up her options. There was an El stop two blocks away, but she was still loathe to board another train at this point, even if her life depended on it. Then she noticed the Metra embankment up ahead, and more importantly, the pedestrian tunnel beneath. After a count of three, she broke left in a full sprint towards the tunnel as the van gunned its engine behind her. It caught up to her just as she entered the tunnel opening, but instead of stopping, she heard it speed up and drive away behind her.

Backtracking, she peeked out the entrance to watch the van turn into an underpass a block down — they were trying to catch up to her on the other side. Exiting the tunnel, she backtracked and made a break for the Irving Park El stop around the corner.

Entering the station, she swiped her card and collapsed on the stairs inside, out of breath and drenched in sweat. After a few minutes of not seeing the van, she gathered her courage and trudged up the stairs to await the next train. Scanning over the platform railing, she expected to see the van speed by on the streets below, but there was nothing but ordinary street traffic. A train finally rumbled into the station, and though her nervous system was on high alert, she boarded it and sat down.

By the time it pulled out of the station, her heart was beating faster than it had been when she was running from the van. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow as she began to feel a nauseous, twitchy feeling in her stomach.
I am going to puke on this train,
she thought to herself. Breathing heavily, she felt the saliva collecting in her mouth. Lifting her bag from the floor, she opened it on her lap, tilted her head down, and waited for the inevitable.

She glanced sideways, in order to see who might be a witness to this unholy display, when she noticed him. Though sitting directly across from her, she could've sworn there was nobody in that seat when she boarded the train. He was paging through a copy of the Reader, but from what she could see of his head, and his lanky frame, she knew it was him. It was the man she had rescued in North Korea.

The shock of seeing him distracted her from her twitchy stomach, and bit by bit the nausea receded. Catching herself drooling into her bag, she quickly wiped her mouth and placed her bag back on the floor. Embarrassed, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed, only to discover there was no one else on the train.

This confused her even more, as she was sure the train had at least a few riders when she boarded. She turned back to look at the man again. He was wearing jeans, grey sneakers, and a Cubs jersey, but she was sure that he was the gentleman: he was the same height, had the same white hair, and the same fair appearance. It was him. Confused, she thought to herself
What are you doing here?

Lowering his paper a few inches, he looked directly at her as if in answer, the hint of a smile on his face. As she locked eyes with him, the train car seemed to recede into the background, muffled and out of focus, as a hazy golden glow enveloped them.

Suddenly, as if a light switch had been flipped, the glow was gone, and the train car was back to normal, filled with the passengers she initially saw. The gentleman, of course, was also gone. Looking around for him, she was interrupted by the announcement for the next stop.

As she exited the station, she searched again for the gentleman — completely forgetting about the white van — and after not finding him, began to walk home. There was a feeling within her, a sense of peace, of strength, yet she was oblivious as to the source. It was as if she had awoken from a most pleasant dream, where the memory had already faded, yet the feelings still lingered.

She didn't quite know what had just happened, but one thing she did know: she wasn't afraid anymore.

~ 51 ~

H
er phone began buzzing — it was Gavin.

"Uh, hi, what's up," she answered distractedly.

"Jess, glad I got ahold of you, are you still at the game? If so, don't come home, there's the same...thing...Joel saw last night right out front."

Her chest tightened with fear, which almost as quickly melted away.

"It's okay, G, I'm almost home, see you soon."

"Jess! Did you
hear
me? Don't come..."

"Yeah, see you soon," she interrupted, hanging up on him.

Rounding the corner to her street, she spotted the white van idling at the end of the block. Headlights blazing, it peeled out towards her. She began to run, but
towards
the van, like a crazed bullfighter forgetting which side of the cape he was on. As it closed to within a hundred feet, she stopped in the middle of the road, holding her ground. Swerving at the last minute, the van screeched to a halt beside her as the white smoke from its exhaust caught up, engulfing them.

The heavy side door slid open with a loud
thunk
as the smoke cleared, revealing an older man with long, scraggly hair crouched in the opening. He wore a pair of wayfarers, board shorts, and an unbuttoned Hawaiian print shirt, which did nothing to hide his bramble patch of graying chest hair. With a wide smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, he tossed a small object to her.

"Welcome to the club!" he shouted, as she instinctively reached out to catch the object. The van door slid shut with another loud
thunk
as they roared off, rounding the corner with tires squealing.

Heart pounding, she breathed a sigh of relief as she looked down at the small gray plastic box in her hand. It looked like an old flip phone, and a bulky one at that. A plastic antenna extended from the top corner, and turning it over she noticed a large worn out 'M' on the back, which she recognized as the old Motorola symbol. She opened it and tentatively held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, but heard nothing. A loud warbling suddenly screeched in her ear.

"
Shit!
" she swore, dropping the phone to the pavement.
No wonder it's all scratched up,
she thought to herself as she picked it up and pressed the green button.

"Jessica, will you meet with us?"

It was a woman's voice, but the line was staticky, and between that and a pronounced echo, Jess could barely hear her. It reminded her of how her father described long distance phone calls in the olden days.

"Is this you, Kal?"

"No. My name is Star. You won't be hearing from them anymore. The van is behind the Starbucks, they're waiting for you."

The static abruptly ended, signalling the call was over. She stood for a moment, staring down at the phone, then turned around to look at their house. Gavin was staring out the window at her, mouth agape. He looked so comical, and coming down off her adrenaline high, she couldn't help but break out into uncontrollable giggles.

Raising his hands up he mouthed "What the hell?" Regaining her composure, she held her hand to her ear and mimed "Call you later" as she took off running down the street.

~ 52 ~

T
urning into the alley behind the Starbucks, she found the van idling just as Star had promised. Walking up to it, she peeked through the tinting to find the front seats empty, so she tentatively rapped on the sliding door. A terrific clattering ensued before the door finally slid open, revealing the man who handed her the phone, along with the driver, sitting crosswise on the carpeted floor. Smoke billowed out of the door opening as she spied a tall purple bong between them.

"Hey! It's Wonder Woman! Get in here, gal!" exclaimed the driver, a younger fellow with dirty blond dreadlocks spilling out from underneath his rainbow knit cap. The older man, who had been taking a hit, snorted at the remark, spilling bong water all over his Hawaiian shirt in the process.

"Shit," he exclaimed, laughing. "Well I guess I'm done, you want?" he said, offering it to her.

"Ah, no, and what the
fuck?
Who are you guys and what is the deal here?"

"Hey man,
chill
. Don't harsh the
mellow
. Terry told us about you. Honestly we kind of blew him off at first, but then, well,
this!
Come on aboard, we'll fill you in."

Jess waved her hands, clearing away the smoke, before hoisting herself into the van. It had been reconfigured with bench seats along the sides, and the floor — and walls and ceiling — were covered in a plush deep-pile purple carpet. A few posters hung on the walls, one showing a Peace sign and the other a butterfly; both worn and fraying. At the very back stood a makeshift table of milk crates supporting an old laptop and various phone gear. The whole van reeked of B.O. and weed as though they lived in it.

"Hey, I'm Sag. From my sign," offered the younger one. In addition to his knit cap, he wore an old Replacements t-shirt, cutoff jean shorts, and wooden sandals. "And you're Jessica?"

"Yeah, uh, nice to meet you," she said, handing back the phone.

Taking it from her, he tossed it deftly into one of the milk crates before maneuvering back into the driver's seat. "We're totally psyched you came, you got quite a party waiting for you."

"Yeah," continued the older fellow, "You're the hero of the hour! I'm Roper, by the way." He removed his sunglasses, exposing bloodshot eyes, and taking her hand, guided her to a bench seat. After reaching over to close the sliding door, he sat down opposite her and smiled expectantly.

"So...you've sorta got a whole 'New Age Cheech and Chong' thing going here, huh?"

They both broke out into entirely too much laughter. Sag started the van, and as they drove off the laughter diminished, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

"And so, uh, where are we going today, fellas?" she probed.

"Oh...yeah, you don't know what's going on here, huh?" Roper remarked, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Heading to the homestead out west. Outside Galena. Should be there before dinner. You'll get fed, don't worry! Star's a great cook. Great pilot too. You do know all this stuff is cause of you, right?"

"What stuff, the van?"

This remark was apparently hilarious as well. Jess was beginning to think it might just be the ganja, and not her natural comedic talents at work here.

"No, man, most of the Net's down! Don't you know? Like, I would think you kids would be all plugged in and shit. Yeah. Since this morning. It's a distraction, don't let anyone tell you different."

He leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Used to be they would take down the power grid for a good part of the country when things didn't go their way, that we know for sure, right Sag?"

At this, Sag laughed a long, loud, hyena-like laugh, while Roper continued.

"But they got a lot of heat for that, so they finally cut that shit out. Internet's better — some people need electrons to live, but nobody needs bits, at least not yet, right? And as long as it takes up the column inches they don't care. Internet blackout to the rescue!" he shouted, and they both laughed hysterically once again.

Jess did not join in, and Roper, eventually sensing her discomfort, dropped his wild grin. "Hey now, we're just having a little fun here, been up all night driving to come get you since we got the call; a little loopy. You know how it is..."

Jess leaned closer, and speaking in a whisper, pointed to Sag in the driver's seat. "Whatever...but should he really be driving?"

Roper laughed again. "No problemo, man," he loudly exclaimed, "that's just the way he is! He only had one hit before you joined the party, so it's all good."

Sag, issuing another barking laugh, thought the insult particularly hilarious.

"So, what's in Galena, besides, like, bed and breakfasts and antiquing?"

"Oh yeah, yeah," Roper replied, forgetting again that she had no clue what was happening. "Well that's where we keep our ships."

"Ships? What, like steamships? On the Mississippi?"

This brought more laughter, which was becoming less amusing to Jess by the minute.

"No, man!
Starships
."

"The hell you mean, starships?" she demanded.

Roper leaned over towards the driver's seat. "Hey, man, I think we got the wrong chick." Then, leaning back, he took another bong hit, and after slowly exhaling the smoke, regarded her accusatorially.

"Did you or did you not, Miss Jessica Delaney Armitage, without authority — or much ability, I might add — pilot a heretofore unknown U.S. government starship to an unauthorized geographical location, and exhibit a completely unprecedented (
y mucho verboten
) display of technological grandeur, never before seen by the American public, much less the publics of any of the other great nations of our times, but eighteen short hours ago, at approximately 20:30 hours, on the Day of Fri, the month of Junius, the Year of our Lord Twenty-Fifteen?"