Storymania - Weller--A Novel In Work by Woody Floria

Weller--A Novel In Work (3)
Woody Floria

Major Joe Blalock leaned out the side door of his command Huey and looking down at the ground below. The entire area was lit in a dull glow by parachute flairs drifting slowly toward the ground. Barking orders into his headset, he coordinated the landing with his company and platoon leaders. There are no friendlies, repeat no friendlies!! Hit the target and hit it hard!! I want situational control in two minutes, max. This is a free fire zone!! Circling above, Blalock watched as the first flight of Hueys touched down and his Rangers begin to deploy around the ship. There were brief flashes from the ground and chatter on the comms net. We’ve got something down here Major, Capt. Bill Gartner reported, but their not human!!
What’s your status Bill, Blalock questioned. Confusion sir, Gartner replied. First squad froze up, really strange, but second squad took out the bad guys on the ground. It’s really weird, like their talking to us in our heads. Telling us not to fire, or resist. Damnit Bill, stop fucking around and get the situation under control, Blalock exclaimed. Take the bitch down, Blalock ordered his pilot. Bill, get a squad in that ship and finish the job--No Prisoners!!

Blalock was out of the Huey and moving fast three feet before it touched the ground. Jogging toward the ship, he saw a squad of Rangers gathered around its open door. One Ranger pulled the pin on a concussion grenade and tossed it through the opening. Three seconds later, a dull roar and smoke blew back through the door signaling the Ranger’s advance. By the time Blalock reached the ship, the fire fight was over. Moving toward the ramp, Blalock was met by Gartner. There were friendlies sir, Gartner explained.

Weller saw the red and blue lights flashing through the trees as he secured his weapons back in the buried igloo cooler. After surviving his third battle with aliens he had no desire to be shot by an on edge and overly excited cop. Easing down the dirt road with his spot light sweeping a broad arch. Deputy Wilcox saw the dirty and bedraggled figure of a man trudging up the road ahead through the smoke of burning trees and shrubs. Caught in the cruiser’s headlights, the figure stopped, raised his hands and turned in a slow circle displaying that he was unarmed. Interesting Wilcox thought, at least this guy knows the drill. Emerging from his cruiser, Wilcox steadied the beam of his five cell Mag light on the man and slowly advanced to meet him.

What happened here Wilcox asked? You don’t want to know, Weller replied, trust me on that. The HELL I DON’T Wilcox exclaimed. Come up to the house, Weller implored. I’ve got ID, and the FBI will be here shortly. Believe me, the less you know when they arrive, the better it will be for you. Just then, Wilcox radio crackled to life. Unit 21, how do you copy? 21 go, Wilcox replied. Roger 21, secure the scene, FBI is in route, and the Sheriff’s on the way too. Looking over at Wilcox, Weller just shrugged as if to say, told you so, and started walking back up to the house.

Blalock reserved comment nodding to Gartner to lead the way. Turning, Gartner ducked back into the ship as Blalock followed. The ship was smaller inside then it appeared to be from the outside. Moving down a short corridor, Gartner lead Blalock through a connection passage way into a small interior room. The room was already crowded with two Rangers standing guard over two very definitely human forms. A woman, and a small child. Both were conscious, but very obviously disoriented!! The child was sobbing in his mother’s arms and the woman looked almost catatonic. Dismissing the Ranger guards, Blalock touched the woman lightly on her shoulder and introduced himself. You’re safe now Mam, my men are in complete control of this situation. May I ask your name? Staring glassy eyed at Blalock, the woman hesitated slightly then responded, Weller, Shanna Weller. How did you come to this place Mam, Blalock questioned? I don’t know, Shanna replied--what is this place? Turning to Gartner, Blalock nodded to the opening. Excuse us a minute Mam, Blalock addressed Shanna. Moving back through the opening, Blalock looked Gartner straight in the eyes and shook his head. The is fucked up Bill!! Let’s get these people out of here ASAP!! Gartner nodded his agreement and keyed up the mic on his headset. Get me a medic in here and let’s prep a Huey for medical evac…

Looking up from his computer console, Peanut Brown addressed Crocker and Hendrix. FBI is headed out to Weller’s place, ETA less than 10 minutes. Do we have comms with the Feebs, Crocker questioned. Cell phone, Peanut replied. The local Feeb offices talk to each other, but they don’t really tie into local law enforcement nets. Shit, Crocker exclaimed!! Probably better sir, Peanut confirmed. Digital cells are secure from just about everyone, but us. Hendrix had to grin, Peanut was so smug about his capabilities. Okay, Crocker replied, let’s give the Feebs a call. Do we know who’s responding Hendrix asked. The SAC Peanut replied. Local guy named Holms, Oliver Holms. No shit, Hendrix chucked? I’ll bet he’s taken shit for that all his life!! Make the call Peanut, Crocker ordered. Dialing the number on his console phone, Brown switched over to speaker. Three rings into the call, a voice answered. This is Holms, who’s calling? Agent Holms, this is General Alfred Crocker at Strategic Air Command. After a slight hesitation Holms replied, okay…what can I do for you General? You’re about to step into a pile of shit you want nothing to do with Holms, Crocker cautioned. Briefly taken back by Crocker’s blunt statement, Holms was temporarily at a loss for words. Regaining his composure, Holms replied, with all due respect sir, you are just a voice on my phone. I don’t know you, who you are, what you do, or if you’re even who you say you are? Fair enough Holms, Crocker replied, but I do have your secure, unlisted official FBI cell phone number, and I know who you are. I know your wife’s name is Evelyn, I know you have three kids, and you’ve been with the FBI for 13 years, so that should tell you something. Okay, Holmes replied, I’m listening. Agent Holmes you’re in route to one Dan Weller’s home. I can’t tell you exactly what you’re going to find when you get there, but it will most probably be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before--think X Files!! There are no X Files General, that was just a TV show, Holmes replied. Right, as far as you know Agent, but listen to what I’m telling you. I’m going to give you a number. When you get on site, secure the area and lock the place down. Get more agents in route, and shut down the locals. We need complete containment. Call me at the number I’m giving you and tell me what you’ve got working as soon as possible. You’ll be receiving confirmation of my instructions from your Director within 10 minutes, do you copy? The Director, Holms quarried with obvious skepticism? It’s about 4:00AM in Washington sir, and I doubt seriously the Director is in the office sir. Stand by for his call Agent Holmes and do exactly what you are instructed to do. Nothing more, nothing less!!

While Crocker was talking to SAC Oliver Holmes, Peanut Brown was quietly speaking into his headset. Reaching up to disconnect the call, Brown addressed the general. We have confirmation sir. The FBI Director is in the loop and calling Holmes right now. Also, I have a SitRep from the Ranger commander. What his status Crocker inquired? Interesting sir, Brown replied. The site is secure and he has civilians. Civilians, Crocker exclaimed?? Affirmative General, it’s Weller’s wife and child. Taken back by Browns revelation, Crocker took a moment to collect his thoughts.
That explains a lot Hendrix offered. Certainly does, Crocker agreed. Puts the whole situation into perspective. Now we know why Weller’s has gone combatant, he’s protecting, or at least attempting to protect his family. Patch me through to the Ranger commander Peanut, Crocker ordered. Stroking the keys of his keyboard with lighting speed, Brown made the connection and nodded it’s completion to Crocker. Major Blalock, this is Crocker, how do you copy? Five by five General, site is secure and we are awaiting further instructions. What is the status of the civilians Major, Crocker asked with obvious tension in his voice.? Alive sir, a little worse for wear, but we’ve got a Medic with them and are prepping them for evac back to base. Confirm Major, Let’s get the civilians off site ASAP!! Make sure they don’t talk to anyone. In fact, sedate them for transport, do you copy? Roger that General, Blalock confirmed. We’ve got a Jolly Green on the way, ETA 45 minutes Major, I want that site cleared and sanitized post haste!! Nothing left behind Major, Crocker order, not a shell casing, or a scrap of paper, you were NEVER there--COPY?? Copy that General, we’re already on it!!

Scratching his head, Crocker was contemplating the paperwork nightmare ahead. Major Blalock would soon be Lt. Col Blalock as would every member of the three Ranger companies on site and all support personnel Everyone would be promoted, everyone would be transferred into different units. It was one thing to move a few Navy pilots around, but promoting, dispersing and transferring three complete companies of Rangers would not only be a logistically tough proposition, it would almost have to catch other people’s attention at the corporate level. They would also have to be dealt with. It would be a challenge, but it could be handled later.

Major Ed Furlough eased his F-22 fighter down on the runway at Kelly Air Force base and taxied to the refueling area. Shutting down his engines, the ground crew quickly started refueling his aircraft. As he retracted his canopy, his crew chief scurried up the ladder quickly to discuss the mission’s status. We’re ready to roll “Big Time.” As soon as we get you topped off, we’ll be right behind you. Roger that, Furlough confirmed, I’m going to push it to get back to 51 before the sun comes up. The days ahead would be tough, but interesting. His weapons systems had apparently worked as designed, but there would be much work to do evaluating their true effectiveness. A thumbs up from his crew chief signaled the last leg on a long night’s work. Firing up his engines, Furlough taxied back out to the flight line and contacted the tower for departure instructions.

Sliding down the gravel road leading up to Weller’s house, SAC Holmes could see three police cruisers parked a different angles in front of the house. Two uniformed Sheriff’s department deputies were standing on the front porch and there were several lights on inside the house. Holmes parked and got out of his car extending his ID for the officers examination. Sheriff’s inside one deputy said with a slight nod toward the door. Holmes enter the house without knocking moved to the sound of voices coming from the back of the house. Entering the brightly lit kitchen, Holmes was met by Sheriff Dick Culbertson. Hey Dick, Holmes said extending his hand. Hey Ollie, Culbertson replied, you guys taking over? You know it, Holmes replied.
Just for the record Ollie, on what grounds? You know the score Dick, if it goes BOOM, it’s federal!! Yea, can’t say I’m all that upset, Mr. Weller here has nothing to say, unless it’s to the FBI. Give us minute, will you Dick. No problem, he’s all yours’ Culbertson said leaving the room. Mr. Weller, my name is Oliver Holmes and I’m the Special Agent in Charge with the FBI for this area, do you want to tell me what went on here tonight? My family is missing Agent Holmes, I need you to help me with that, Weller replied.. I’m sorry Mr. Weller, I have no knowledge of that situation. The Sheriff told me they found my truck wrecked out on the highway, and it was empty. I know my wife was driving it…what can you do to help me find her and my son? Give me a minute Mr. Weller, Holmes replied, I’ll talk to the Sheriff.

Moving out of the kitchen, Holmes join Sheriff Dick Culbertson out on the porch. What the deal with Weller’s truck and missing family, Holmes asked? No clue really, Ollie. Culbertson replied. We found his truck flipped out on the highway, but no occupants inside. We’ve put out an APB on the family, but at this point, there’s really not much else we can do. Holmes shook his head in agreement. Okay Dick, off the record, this comes straight from the Director, and I mean THE DIRECTOR in Washington. Whatever is, or has gone on here is a matter of vital, national security. At this point, you probably know more then I do, but we’re about to put a lid on this and clamp in down tight. Frankly, I can’t believe we’re not already covered up with media, but before that happens, I’m going to shut this shit down. The story is Weller here was working on his car and accidentally caused it to catch on fire and explode. No injuries, no blood, no story--GOT IT? I’ve got it Ollie, but what’s in it for me, Culbertson asked with a sly grin. Holmes almost had to chuckle himself. Old Dick Culbertson was a wily politician of the first degree, and Holmes had always admired that about him. Thought you might ask, Holmes replied. You’ve got a grant request in for a new Helicopter, it’s approved. The Director will sign the paperwork in the morning. I need this to go away Dick, like it never happened, can you control the media, Holmes ask? What media, Culbertson replied? We’ve gone digital, so those pricks can’t ease drop on our communications anymore. We’re so far out in the county, that the local talking heads don’t have a clue what’s going on. I’ll clean up the paperwork when I get back to the office, and nothing happened, end of story. Got that boys, Culbertson asked, giving his deputies a stern look. There was only silence from the Deputies who clearly understood the Sheriff’s word was law!!

Crocker’s personal cell phone rang, momentarily startling him back from his thoughts of transfers and logistics. Glancing at the caller ID, he hit the talk button, this is Crocker, what’s happening down there Holmes? Not much to report yet General, Holmes replied. I’m on scene, I’ve got the local Sheriff and two Deputies with me. The Sheriff is cooperating completely, but Mr. Weller is not. Apparently, his family is missing, or disappeared, or whatever, and he’s not saying a word until I can give him something on their whereabouts. Put him on the line Holmes, I’ll speak with him, Crocker ordered.

Walking back into the kitchen, Holmes handed his cell phone to Weller. I have someone who wants to speak with you Mr. Weller. I don’t know him, but I have it from the highest authority, that he answers directly to the President. Taking the phone from Holmes, Weller answered with a simple “hello.” Mr. Weller, Crocker asked? Yes, Weller confirmed. I understand you are very concerned about your family, Crocker quarried? What do you know, Weller implored? Your family is safe Mr. Weller. You have my personal assurance, Crocker replied. How do I know you are telling me the truth, Weller questioned? Stand by for one moment, Crocker requested. Peanut, get me Blalock, Crocker ordered. 20 seconds later, Blalock was patched through on the line. Mr. Weller, I have a gentleman conferenced in who can give you some information on your family--go ahead Blalock. Mr. Weller, your wife and son are under my personal protection. They are somewhat disoriented, but appear to be medically fine. I have taken steps to make sure they are receiving medical attention. My Son, what is he wearing, Weller asked? Blalock, smiled to himself, Spiderman pajamas, Mr. Weller, my son has the same ones, they’re his favorites. A flood of relief rush through Weller and he had to fight to keep the tears from running down his face. When can I see them, Weller ask? I want them back with me NOW!!! There was a moment of silence on the line, then Crocker spoke up. Mr. Weller, I’m sure you can understand the delicacy of what’s happening now. You no doubt understand that you are speaking with officials of the United States Government, Crocker stated. I understand, Weller meekly acknowledge, suddenly feeling very drained and tired. We are going to need to examine your family, I’m sure you can understand, Crocker asked gently. I understand, Weller acknowledged. Mr. Weller, you have my personal assurance, that you will be reunited with your family as soon as possible. Thank you, Weller replied. Mr. Weller, Agent Holmes needs to know what happened tonight. I’m sure you have some things to show him and tell him, right, Crocker questioned? Get my family back to me, I’ll cooperate, Weller replied. Please give the phone back to Agent Holmes, Crocker requested.

Holmes? There are going to be some people from FEMA arriving at your location very shortly. Once they arrive, they will be in charge. You are responsible for perimeter security. From what I understand, the local media is clueless about what’s happening, and I’m sure you can understand that we want to keep it that way, right, Crocker admonished? I understand General, Holmes acknowledged. I have agents in plain clothes guarding the main entrance now, and there’s only one way in, or out of this place. The Sheriff has stationed his deputies two miles down the road in both directions to give us a heads up on incoming traffic. Good, Crocker acknowledged! You’re ready to move on to bigger and better things, right Holmes, Crocker questioned? Always sir, Holmes replied. No doubt, you’d like to be assigned a little closer to your home, Crocker asked? Affirmative General, Holmes replied. I’m thinking Assistant Special Agent In Charge of the Chicago office would be appealing to you, Crocker quarried? Very appealing Sir, Holmes acknowledged. You’ll be home for Christmas, Agent Holmes, Crocker stated with authority, and the line went dead..

We’re all wrapped up here General, Major Joe Blalock confirmed. Jolly Green has our target in transit and we’ve completely policed and sanitized the LZ.
Good work Major, Crocker confirmed. You understand your orders? Affirmative General. Blalock confirmed. We have two companies in transit RTB, and I’m escorting the Jolly Green with one company for security. Confirm Major, Crocker replied. Your 20 is a private landing strip. It belongs to a local paper mill, but it’s three miles from the mill proper and located back in the woods. It’s a squeeze, but we’ve got a C5A down and waiting on your arrival. We need to get everything wrapped up there before the sun comes up, confirm, Crocker asked? Confirm General, ETA 20 minutes, Blalock replied! Make it happen Major, Crocker admonished!!!

Joe Blalock sat in silence as the Bell Huey bumped through the night skies. What the fuck just happened, Blalock thought to himself? What the fuck where those things we killed? Looking over at the Jolly Green cruising through the night next to his command Huey, Blalock began to realize what he had just been a part of. This wasn’t some Spielberg movie!! He and his men had fought alien life forms, and defeated them. Those fuckers won’t be phoning home. What now, promotion? Lt. Col. Blalock and the Pentagon assignment his career needed for promotion to Full Bird, then General. He was only 34 and knew he would be on the fast track from this point forward, but at what cost? What would he tell his wife and child? How could he tell them, how could he not? How do you play this hand Joe? How do you live with the certain knowledge that everything you ever believed about God and mankind is a lie?

Roy Gallagher, former military, black ops, and CIA stringer had found a home at FEMA, but not the folk most people think of when they hear about the Federal Emergency Management Agency working to help natural disaster victims. No, he worked for the dark side of FEMA. The branch, the general public knew nothing about. Sure, his team responded to disasters, but they didn’t hand out food, or process loan request. They hunted down the animals they preyed on disaster victims. Hunted them down, and ended their threat, with extreme prejudice, if necessary. His was the arm of FEMA that did the “wet work” no one wanted to know about. Gallagher was the go to guy when the government needed the job done, and done without moral, or conscious objection.

Easing into the drive off the main highway, Gallagher was met by a clean cut man in blue jeans and a black tee-shirt. Feeb, he thought to himself, noting the green, Ford Crown Vic parked beside the drive and another man quite obviously holding a CAR-15 assault rifle, a few feet back on the right side of his vehicle. These guys are on edge, not good Gallagher thought. Displaying his ID, he was directed down the drive to the main house. Exiting his vehicle, Gallagher was met by Special Agent Oliver Holmes. Gallagher and Holmes were acquainted, as it was Gallagher’s business to know all the Federal bosses in his operations area. Hey Ollie, Gallagher said extending his hand. Holmes returned the hand shake. You made good time Roy. Yea, I ran code three all the way from Houston. No trouble with the DPS, Holmes asked? Naw they knew I was coming through Gallagher replied. Must be nice, Holmes mused, they pull us over for lack of anything better to do!! That’s because you guys are always fucking around on the Ranger’s turf, we don’t play those games with them--they’re assets Ollie!!
If you Feebs could ever get that straight in your mind, you’d find that they can be as handy as a pocket on a shirt sometimes. Fucking premadonnas, Holmes replied. One riot, one Ranger, they actually believe that shit. It’s like a religion to them. Gallagher just smiled, you FBI guys are so fucking tight ass, Ollie!! Whatever, Holmes replied, is this it, just you? No, my teams on the way. We were on standing down, so I’ve got them coming from a half dozen different directions. What happening here Ollie, all I got was a call in the middle of the night saying to get my ass over here ASAP!! Oh man, Holmes replied, I’m so glad this has become your problem!! Follow me Roy, you aren’t going to believe this shit!!

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