Chapter One

 

THE DISTANT PAST….

 

The armada of silver saucers hovered ominously above the lush green world. Clouds wrapped around the blues and greens of the oceans covering the majority of the planet like a blanket of soft, white linen. The armada had traveled vast distances from their home world to reach this fertile planet, the fourth planet in the Sol Solar System. They had gone through the furthest reaches of the known universe on their trip here to the outer arm of this spiral shaped galaxy. This, to them, was literally the backwater of the galaxy. Compared to the rest of it, the small, fragile creatures that inhabited this planet were mere new-borns.

The machine race was here for a purpose, though. This was not just another routine surveillance mission. Over the past thousand years, they had begun to detect violent changes occurring in the planet’s make-up. The civilization that lived here was completely unaware. They assumed their gods were angry and they were being punished on some unknown whim. The machine race had come here to protect their investment. They wanted to ensure this civilization would continue, if not on this planet, then on another.

The lead saucer gave the signal to the rest of the armada to ascend into the atmosphere. The mighty ships slowly sank below the clouds of the blue- green world. They hovered, undetected, while observing the civilization in its final days.

Massive crowds had gathered around three large structures: massive pyramids built on a grassy plain surrounded on both sides by two rivers. The area was known as Cydonia. They were holding rituals on the steps, trying to appease their gods. Humanoids were on their knees bowing before the giant structures, while priests led them in prayers. The humanoids were sparsely dressed, only wearing a few light cloths around their chest and waist. The priests, on the other hand, were lavishly garbed in silver and gold with flowing red and white robes billowing around them. Blood from their sacrifices stained the steps of the pyramids.

Turning away, the armada of ships traveled a small distance across the planet to another huge monolith. The humanoid civilization had taken an entire mountain and over a period of years, carved it into a face that peered off into space. Workers were still completing it standing on their immense wooden scaffolding. Chipping and cutting into the rock, the massive ornate headpiece the face would be wearing was starting to take form.

This baffled the machine race. Why had the civilization determined the need to recreate their likeness on a massive scale? Did they need to show future generations they were indeed here? Or was it to please their gods so they would show favor when the spring harvest came? The machine race knew they had made a good choice to save this civilization. There was still so much they wanted to know about them.

Alarms started to blare inside the saucers. They had detected an immense upheaval in the crust of this planet just beginning. The machine race knew this planet’s life was about to end in a fiery blaze. They watched as a quake rocked the land, sending the wooden scaffolding and the workers tumbling to the ground. Next to the face, the ground split open spewing molten lava everywhere. The fragile humanoids tried to run from the burning substance, but were quickly swallowed by it.

Accessing its scanners, the main saucer pulled up a geothermal map of the planet. Volcanoes were forming and erupting all over the surface. The sky had begun to darken due to the thick ash being tossed into the atmosphere. The main saucer quickly relayed orders to the other ships:

 

TAKE EVERY SPECIMEN YOU CAN FIND.

 

The saucers rapidly shot off to different areas of the globe on their mission, while the main saucer still loomed over the face. Turning its attention away from this dying planet, it slowly rose out of the atmosphere into space. Accessing its scanners again, it looked across the millions of miles to another planet in this system. It was the third planet from the star, another small blue and green world with one small moon orbiting it. Life was just beginning to evolve there after a major cataclysm with an asteroid, and just like here, it was experiencing a few growing pains. The saucer scanned the planet’s core. It seemed much more stable than the current planet. The machine knew it would be a suitable home, though not quite as hospitable as this one.

A beep sounded inside the machine signaling the other saucers had completed their mission. Relaying the coordinates of the new planet, the armada set off toward the tiny world. It began searching through its records. The databanks returned several entries on the planet. It had been catalogued under the heading ‘BCE-121887-3’. That wasn’t fitting for its new inhabitants, though. It began to search again for a more fitting label. Quickly, its memory came upon the perfect name. One used previously by the being that originally constructed the machines and gave them life. The machine thought it would be appropriate to call this new world “Earth” in honor of the creator. It saved the file as it continued on its way.

 

***

 

THE PRESENT….

 

The great machine whirred to life beneath the miles of layered ice. A distant transmission had cued its auto-start systems. It knew they were coming, and they would expect the data. As a precaution, the great machine began to cycle through its systems performing a complete diagnostic.

It stopped.

There was something wrong. Checking….

Its transmission relays had been damaged somehow over the past five thousand years. It tried a self-repair. It tried again. Nothing. It was unable to remedy the problem. It knew, however, that the machines would make every effort to repair the damage once they arrived. Performing one final diagnostic, it decided it was futile. It quietly powered its systems down. There was nothing to do now but wait for their arrival.

Chapter Two

 

Built deep within Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, NORAD was bustling with activity. Air Force personnel were scurrying around the floor busily. The command center was, for the most part, dark. Three immense screens were at the front of the room constantly displaying tactical information. In front of them, rows and rows of consoles were monitoring all air traffic, civilian, commercial and military.

“Sir?” a young Lieutenant asked from his station near the back. He tried to wait patiently for his CO to reply, but he knew this was too important. “General Summers!”

Four men were standing in the corner of the control room, apparently discussing something. A man with dark hair turned from his conversation toward the Lieutenant. “What?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t think this could wait.” The young man turned back to his console and pressed a series of buttons. “I’ve got something really strange here,” he said, pointing to his monitor.

General Gregory Summers turned and strode briskly toward the young man’s terminal. Laying one of his hands on the top of the workstation, he leaned in close to the monitor. “What’ve you got?” he asked with a slight Texas accent. Gregory Summers was a large man. Almost as wide as he was tall, but everyone knew he was all muscle. He had been growing a large black beard for several months, adding to his already intimidating appearance.

“I’ve got something strange on the radar.” Lieutenant David Stewart, on the other hand, was a small, wiry man with fire red hair. “As you know, General, I’ve been tracking and cataloguing all the debris in space around Earth.”

Summers nodded.

“Well, just a few moments ago, I caught a strange blip on the outermost fringe of my radar.”

“What was it?” Summers asked.

Stewart shook his head. “I don’t know, sir, but it was big and looked to be headed this way. It was there and then it just disappeared.”

Summers immediately straightened up. “Where was it when you last saw it?”

“Just beyond the orbit of Mars, sir.”

“Keep an eye on this thing,” Summers commanded him. “I want to know the moment it comes back on our scopes.”

“Yes, sir,” Stewart turned back to his console.

Summers took a long breath as he started ‘The Walk’. He hated this part of the job. ‘The Walk’ referred to the path the general or commanding officer had to make as they moved toward the Command Station. It was located near the front of the rows of consoles. It consisted of a tall metal table with two phones and a monitor. Summers grabbed the receiver from one of the phones and pressed it to his ear. It had only one button on it. Pressing it, Summers heard the phone begin to ring. After two short rings, he heard someone pick up on the other end.

“Mr. President,” Summers greeted. “I may have some alarming news.”

 

***

 

The shot glass made a hollow thud as it hit the bar. This place was a dive. Nothing more than a hole in the wall, it was one room with a long brown wooden bar running down the entire length of it. It had no room for tables or chairs, just a row of stools. Only the flicker of several neon lights illuminated the place. Currently, four patrons occupied stools.

Lifting his glass, Jake Silver signaled to the bartender for another round. Walking down the long bar, the bartender pulled a bottle from under the counter and slowly filled Jake’s glass with thick amber liquor. The bartender shot Jake an ominous glance as he turned to attend his other customers.

“Leave the bottle,” Jake instructed him hoarsely, pulling a half mashed cigar out of his beaten brown leather jacket. He looked like hell. He had black rings under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he hadn’t shaved in almost three weeks. His black t-shirt was tattered, and the blue jeans he was wearing had a hole in one knee.

The bartender, a portly older man with a thick brown beard, snatched the bottle away from Jake’s grasp. “I think you’ve had about enough, mister. Drink your last shot and go home.”

Lighting the cigar, Jake picked up the glass and dumped the alcohol down his throat. Standing up, he leaned over the bar toward the man. “I said, leave the bottle.”

The bartender took a step back. “I think you better go home. Let me call you a cab,” the bartender said politely as he picked up a small black cordless phone from behind the bar.

Jake reached over and slapped the phone from the man’s hand. “What the hell is wrong with you? I just want to sit and have a nice quiet drink in your establishment, and you want to get rid of me? That’s not very good customer service.” Jake stumbled back for a moment before he regained his balance. He knew he was getting drunk, but he wasn’t ready to leave. He wasn’t drunk enough yet.

“Go home and sleep it off, or I’ll call the cops and they’ll toss you into the drunk tank.” The bartender was trying to keep his cool, but it was slipping very quickly.

Jake began to raise his voice. “Why don’t you just shut the hell up, you pudgy bastard, and give me the bottle?”

“That’s it.” The bartender looked down the bar at two large men watching a football game on a small color TV. They were both dressed head to toe in black leather.  Handing Jake the bottle, he swiftly made his way toward the men. “Guys?”

The two gruff men looked up. “Yeah?”

The bartender leaned over on the bar in front of them. “I’ll give you both free drinks for the rest of the night if you get rid of that man sitting at the bar over there.”

The two men looked at each other and smiled. “Free drinks and we get to kick someone’s ass? I like this bar.” The two men stood and began to walk toward Jake. The first man looked to weigh at least three hundred pounds. He had a scruffy blonde beard and tired blue eyes. He had on a black shirt with a picture of the confederate flag on it with a black leather jacket and black combat boots. The silver spurs on his heels jingled as he walked. The second man, though not as big, was no less intimidating. He stood at least a foot taller than the first with raven black hair and steely blue eyes. He was wearing a long black leather trench coat that hung to his heels. The two men took positions on either side of Jake, who had retaken his seat.

Jake looked up. “What can I do for you two,” he hated to use the word, “gentlemen?”

The first man snatched the bottle away from Jake and smashed it on the floor. “You’ve been fucking with our friend,” he said in a growl. “I think it’s time you leave.”

“Is that so?” Jake asked, turning his attention to the second man. The man had pulled a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket and was sliding them onto his tattooed hand. “What if I refuse?”

“Then we kick your ass,” the second man replied with an almost Brooklyn accent.

Jake lifted his half empty glass to his mouth and swallowed the last gulp of alcohol. “Well, if it has to be that way,” Jake said as he set the glass down. With quick reflexes, he sent his left elbow into the second man’s stomach and swung around and hit the first man squarely in the jaw. Both men stumbled back from the unexpected attack.

“You’re going to regret that, you son of a bitch!” The first man charged Jake.

Stepping aside, Jake grabbed the first man’s head and slammed it against the bar. Spinning on his heels, he ducked just as the second man threw a high punch. Retaliating, Jake sent a vicious uppercut into the second man’s midsection. Grabbing his head, Jake kneed the second man hard in the nose.

The second man stumbled back holding his bloody nose. “Mother fucker!”

The first man caught Jake off-guard. Wrapping his meaty arms around Jake, the first man held him tightly. “Fuck him up!” he shouted at the other man.

The second man quickly moved up to Jake and sent a jab into his chin with the brass knuckles. “How’d that feel?” Reeling back, the man hit Jake hard in the midsection knocking the wind out of him. “You want some more?”

Jake shook his head as he caught his breath. “No, I think I’ve had plenty.” Kicking hard, he smashed his booted foot into the second man’s knee sending him to the floor. Throwing his head back, he hit the first man in the nose. Quickly spinning around, Jake sent another punch into the man’s nose. The big man toppled to the floor, his nose a broken, bloody mess.

Stepping away from the two men, Jake grabbed his lit cigar from the ashtray on the bar and took a long drag. “I suddenly don’t feel so welcome here.” Pulling a fifty dollar bill from his pocket, he tossed it on the bar. “Keep the change,” Jake said with a smile as he walked through the exit.

Chapter Three

 

“I love you, too,” Faith giggled as she rolled on top of Tyler. The two kissed passionately for a long moment, but were interrupted by the ring of the telephone.

Reaching over to the nightstand next to their bed, Tyler grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Tina, can I talk to Faith?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Tyler handed the phone to Faith. “Hello?” Faith asked.

Tyler got out of bed. “I’m going to go and get a glass of juice. Do you want something?”

Faith shook her head.

“Hi, Faith, its Tina,” the girl’s voice was filled with exuberance. “I hate to call you on your day off…”

“But?” Faith knew what was coming next.

“Jennifer just called in sick and we need you to come into work.”

“Sorry, Tina, but I haven’t had a day off with my husband since our honeymoon, and I’m determined to spend today with him.”

“Is there any way I can persuade you otherwise?” Tina asked. “Nope, sorry,” and with that, Faith hung up the phone.

Tyler walked back into the room with a tall glass of orange juice and slid back into bed. “They wanted you to come in and work on your day off again?” Tyler asked with a frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Faith replied. Setting the phone aside, she ran her hand over his bare chest, “But I told them no. I want to spend my day off with my husband.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

“I know.” Faith looked out the bedroom window of the small house they were renting in Elko, Nevada. The morning sun was shining through their white shades. “I wish we had more time together.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler said while running his hand through Faith’s hair.

“Between our jobs and my college classes, that just doesn’t leave us a lot of time together.”

Faith sat up and smiled. “Well, at least we have today together, and I’m going to make the most of it, but first,” she kissed Tyler’s forehead, “I have to use the bathroom.” Faith lifted herself off the bed and walked toward the bathroom door. She was only wearing a long, white t-shirt.

Tyler smiled as he watched her. He had never been so happy in his entire life than he had been with Faith. After Jim Durard had released him from the FEMA offices in Las Vegas, they had returned to Tyler’s hometown and rented a small apartment. Faith, with her nursing experience, had gotten a job at the local clinic, and Tyler had concentrated on graduating high school while working as a night freight loader at one of the local department stores. Tyler finished his senior year of high school only three months later, and had started college later that same year. The summer after his sophomore year of college, Tyler and Faith had gotten married. Now, less than a year later, they were still struggling to find a balance. Tyler knew all newlyweds went through this, and that they would be fine.

Faith returned to the room, and pressed herself seductively against the doorframe. “Hello, Mr. Mitchell,” she said in a sexy voice.

Tyler smiled. “Why, hello, Mrs. Mitchell.”

Faith laughed out loud. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing that!” She ran toward the bed and jumped in. Quickly drawing the shades, the two began to make the most of their day.

 

***

 

He pulled another stack of papers from his inbox and placed them in front of him. Placing his elbows on his desk, he leaned over and held his head in his hands. It had been a long day already, and it was only one o’clock in the afternoon.

Jim Durard looked down at the papers and began to fill them out.

Dropping his pen on his desk, he pushed it away and leaned back in his padded leather chair. This wasn’t what he thought it would be when he accepted the promotion. Durard loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

Turning around in his chair, Durard rubbed his hands through his blonde hair, then clasped them behind his head. He stared out of his twentieth story window over San Francisco. He had held this new position of Assistant Regional Director of the Pacific Area for the Federal Emergency Management Agency for over a year now. Durard had been promoted shortly after he had helped eradicate “The Yellow Death” in the Southwestern United States. His superiors at the time felt that because of his performance during the ‘TYD plague’, he would make an exceptional director. Staring out at the skyscrapers and buildings of San Francisco, Durard began to question that decision.

A knock on his office door startled him. “Yes?”

A small brunette poked her head into Durard’s office. “A.D. Durard, your one o’clock appointment is here,” she smiled softly.

Durard spun around in his chair and began to straighten his tie. “Thanks, Clarice, send them in.”

Clarice nodded and opened the door wide. “Assistant Director Durard will see you now,” she said into the waiting room.

Durard watched a man enter the room. “Good afternoon.”

Durard stood and shook the man’s outstretched hand.

“My name is Jeff Tulley and I’m with The High Desert Reporter, a newspaper based out of Reno, Nevada.” Tulley was a man of average height, and looked to be just slightly overweight. He had a full head of thick, brown hair and a neatly trimmed brown goatee. Tulley was wearing a faded pair of blue jeans with a white polo shirt and black sport coat.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Tulley?” Durard asked as he returned to his seat.

“We’re running an investigative series on ‘The Yellow Death’, and the people involved with it,” Tulley said while sitting down in a chair in front of Durard’s desk. “I would like to do an interview with you, Mr. Durard.”

“My official statement and reports are available through the records department,” Durard said with a sigh. “I have no wish to comment beyond that.”

Tulley snapped open the brown briefcase he had with him. Grabbing a handful of papers, he placed them in front of Durard. “I’ve already requested your statement, and your reports,” Tulley pointed to the papers. “As you can see, they don’t explain a whole lot.”

“What?” Durard knew his statement and field reports were extremely thorough. He began to leaf through the packet of papers and was shocked to find that sections of them had been blacked out, while entire pages had been deleted. “I don’t understand. Why would these files need to be censored?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me,” Tulley admitted.