Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The Genesis Project...Chapter 17...Part 3

   There was no name on the inside cover and he scanned the pages until he came across the page dated 5 December 1945. He scanned down the page to the last entry.

   Don’t know where we are. Encountered a bright flash, violent turbulence and “Toto, we ain’t in Kansas anymore.”

  The random entries he chose after that described their experiences aboard a spacecraft, life with their abductors and their final destination.

   We’ve been brought to a place that is beyond description. It must be the way Earth looked all those thousands of years ago. We’re not alone. There are others here, brought the same way we were. I wish we could tell everyone at home we’re okay.

  He scanned the final entry, gently closed the book and handed it back to Malcolm Taylor.

   “Are you all that’s left of the chosen ones?” asked Brackett.

   “Some have ventured out as children will do. Some came back , some made homes elsewhere,” replied Malcolm. “And there also are others out there who came on their own as you did. I can’t say that they will show you as much hospitality as we have.”

   “Thank you for the warning,” said Brackett. “But now we must return to our comrades, but we would like to bring them here to see what you’ve shown us.”

   “We look forward to it,” said Malcolm.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

The Genesis Project...Chapter 17...Part 2

   Brackett stepped farther into the tent and walked slowly around the old, dusty torpedo bomber. He ran his hand over the decals on the fuselage and looked up at the name stenciled below the cockpit. He turned back toward Charlie.

   “This plane belonged to Flight 19 that disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle,” said Brackett. He turned to Malcolm Taylor. “There were other planes and ships that disappeared.”

   “Some of them are among the chosen ones,” said Malcolm. “Some were taken elsewhere.”

   “By who?” asked Brackett.

   “The Watchers.”

   Brackett looked over at Charlie and back at Malcolm. “Watchers?”

   “Yes, They brought the chosen ones here.”

   “Where did these Watchers come from?”

   “It is all explained in The Book,” said Taylor. “Come, I will show you.”

   Brackett and Charlie followed Malcolm Taylor from the tent back to his shack. They maneuvered around the wooden furniture decorating the inside of the shack and followed Taylor to a desk against the far wall. Malcolm opened the top drawer of the desk and removed an old, worn book and handed it to Brackett.

   “It’s a journal,” Brackett said to Charlie as he carefully opened the book to the first parched page.


Thursday, October 4, 2012

The Genesis Project...Chapter 17...Part 1

   Mike Brackett and Charlie Two Sons climbed into the front of the battle car and started it up while Corporal Hodges hooked himself up in the gun harness.

   “I’m ready when you are,” said Hodges and Brackett pointed at Billy. Gilroy opened up a section of the perimeter fence and waved as the battle car glided through.

    Brackett guided the battle car up the hillside and throttled down at the top to get a daylight view of what they’d seen the night before. There was only one horse now tethered outside the fence and the array of vehicles from the night before had dwindled down to a scattered three.

   “Sure don’t look like much,” said Hodges after surveying the meager dwellings inside the compound.

   “Let’s go see,” said Brackett.

    Curious onlookers dotted the fence when he shut the battle car down in front of the compound. Brackett punched the four number code into the ignition box, grabbed his pulse rifle nestled beside his seat and climbed out of the battle car.

   “You stay here,” Brackett said to Hodges. “If something happens and we need to get out of here quick, you punch that ignition switch and get harnessed up. We may not have time to waste.”

   “You’re in goods hands, Sarge,” said Hodges.

   Brackett surveyed the onlookers along the fence as he and Charlie walked toward the open gate. All of them were armed with a variety of weapons, but the absence of a sentry seemed odd. He took a quick glance behind them and saw they were quickly gathering a following as they strode through the compound.

   A bearded, gray-haired man appeared in the door of the largest of the shacks. Wearing a worn military uniform, he stepped out into the sun and shaded his eyes with his hand.

   “Welcome, gentlemen,” he said and held his hand out to Brackett and Charlie. “I’m Malcolm Taylor and we,” he opened his arms to the gathering behind the Freelancers, “are the descendants of the Chosen Ones.”

   Brackett and Charlie shook the hand of Malcolm Taylor. “The chosen ones? We were under the impression this planet was uninhabited.”

   “Come, let me show you, it might help explain it,” said Taylor and led Brackett and Charlie to the large tent next to the shack. He untied the flap and held it open.

   “They were true,” whispered Brackett when he stepped into the tent. A bewildered smile crossed his face. “Charlie, all the stories were true.”