Alarms erupted, loud sirens abruptly shattering the silence the night. Red lights sprang into life, rotating inside glass housings attached high to the walls and above the doors of the huge, sprawling, single-story windowless building, casting crimson light over the well-tended yet unadorned grounds. Armed security guards in dark uniforms flooded out through the metal doors, some running out towards three concentric chain-link fences topped with razor-wire surrounding the property, some racing along the sides of the building, hunting, eyes seeking for the source of the security breach.
Inside the building, uniformed men and women ran in organized urgency, faces serious, eyes sharp. More security guards, gripping machine guns, collected in the lobby.
One man issued instructions with sharp barks and hand gestures. "Room-to-room sweeps. Two together at all times. Go!"
Civilian men and women joined the frantic activity, some pulling on white lab coats, others yelling at each other. "What's happening?" "Where's the security breach?"
Outer doors locked with loud thumps; state-of-the-art electronic security measures kicking in. The large facility was now impregnable. It was also now a prison; no one allowed to enter, no one allowed to leave.
In the main security room, an expansive bank of digital monitors gave clear images of every corridor. The head of security, Rob Kitchen, scanned the monitors, his eyes seeking. What had set the alarms off?
Suddenly everything went dark - lights, monitors, alarms. The silence was deafening. People in the security room froze, waiting for backup generators to kick in. The facility had been designed with triple redundancy. Complete electrical failure was an impossibility.
Except for tonight.
For three excruciating minutes everyone held their breath, frozen in inky darkness, alert and worried. Finally, emergency lights clicked on illuminating corridors in a weak yellow glow. People started moving again.
In the security room, monitors flickered back to life, one by one, but not reliably. Screens randomly went blank then pictures returned, some suffering extreme static or pixilation that obscured the picture. There was no obvious pattern to the interference.
In the west wing, the highest security zone, the door of room 103B was open. A small girl emerged. In a simple white gown-like dress and barefoot, she looked up and down the corridor before turning right towards double security doors.
She walked towards the locked doors, calm, almost serene, her bare feet making no sound. A security guard stood with his back to her, his hand on the gun at his belt, alert and ready to protect against intruders.
Tonight there were no intruders. Tonight, there was an escape.
He glanced around and saw the small girl.
"How did you get out? The doors are on lockdown. You have to go back to . . ."
He never finished his sentence. The small girl, with large green eyes, stared up at him without fear. Her eyes flashed; small, intense, lavender coronas forming around her irises that disappeared as fast as they had arrived.
The security guard immediately stopped talking. He smiled at her, turned, swiped his security card through a reader, tapped an alphanumeric code into a keypad, and pulled the door open to let the girl pass before resuming his guard duties.
The small girl walked with purpose but no haste. At each locked set of doors she looked at the guard, a small burst of lavender flashed in her eyes, and the guard opened the door with a smile. Her eyes flashed at each security cam she passed, calmly walking, unperturbed, serene. By the time she reached a side door, running feet could be heard echoing in the corridor.
The electronically locked outer door opened effortlessly when she pushed it. In the chilly autumn night, with a ghostly fog drifting over the forested landscape, the young girl walked across a well-groomed lawn towards a guarded side gate at the first line of fencing.
Back in the security room, chaos reigned. Technicians scrambled, tapping keyboards in a desperate attempt to restore full video coverage on the supposedly fail-proof system.
"What the Hell's wrong with the monitors?" Rob Kitchen yelled, infuriated by the random static.
"Don't know," a technician replied from under the console, lying on his back with a flashlight inspecting complex wiring.
"Get it fixed!"
"We're trying!"
Radio chatter played in the background as security guards reported in. None of them reported anything unusual. If it was a false alarm, it was the first they'd experienced.
Rob, contemplating the appearance of static across the wall of monitors, suddenly stiffened. "Do you see a pattern here?" he asked no one in particular. "Look." Pointing to different screens, he said, "It started there in the 100 wing, then there, then there, and there. It's like a digital ghost is drifting through the corridor, blanking out the cams and . . . Oh shit! That's the side gate!
"Get them on the radio!" he yelled.
At the side gate, three heavily armed guards stood at alert, two facing out, one facing in. A radio crackled. One guard listened and responded, "Nothing's happening out here."
Fifty yards away, already hidden by the dense pine forest, the girl walked barefoot on the damp, needle-covered ground. Like a phantom, she walked through laser intrusion detection lines, over randomly hidden pressure pads, and slowly left the compound behind. Wet fog soaked her very pale, platinum blonde hair flat to her skull. She didn't notice.
In the compound, all hell broke loose when a room-to-room search discovered room 103B empty. Frantic calls were placed to headquarters in Virginia alerting them to an unprecedented breach of security. General Harold Lattimer ordered an immediate isolation zone be set up. Forty miles away from the compound, an army base exploded with organized activity; soldiers running and climbing into canvas-covered army trucks in a well-rehearsed but never-before-needed emergency plan. Troop transport trucks fired up spitting dark diesel smoke into the air, and drove out in a long convoy. Eighty soldiers headed towards the anonymous compound.
Theo Harris swore and wrestled with the shaking steering wheel. "Fucking drizzle" he muttered. He hated drizzle. If it was going to rain, then let it fucking rain! Weak headlights hardly lit the greasy road ahead. The dark pine forest pressed in on both sides along the isolated road.
The Jeep Cherokee briefly lost grip at the rear when he took a corner that any other vehicle could handle with ease. He wrestled with the wheel again and restored control. God damned tires! Next time, he thought, he'd spend more and buy new tires, not these used pieces of shit.
He checked the dash clock. Almost midnight and he wanted to be home, not here, thirty-some miles past get-me-the-fuck-outa-here and fifteen miles from Holy-fuck-how-can-anyone-live-here.
Why the hell did I ever . . .
Ahead, a girl in white walked out into the road. He slammed the brakes on, tires squealing, the Cherokee shaking before rear adhesion was lost. In slow motion, the SUV turned broadside, skidding on all wheels towards the girl. Impact was inevitable.
She stood in the road watching it approach.
"Get out of the way!" Theo yelled, desperately wrestling with the steering wheel and stamping on the brakes, his gut tightening as the out of control Cherokee slid towards her.
Twenty feet disappeared in the blink of an eye. Ten feet. The girl watched. Five feet from her, Theo thought he saw a flash of lavender before the Cherokee came to a sudden stop so violently his head slammed into the driver's side window, cracks radiating from the point of impact. It felt as if the Cherokee had hit a lamp post or concrete barrier, the stop was so sudden. Stars burst in his eyes. Darkness briefly clouded his vision before clearing. When his ears stopped ringing he heard absolute silence, the engine dead.
Fear gripped him. The girl!
Looking out the fractured door window, he saw her, still standing five feet away and unhurt. What the fuck?
Shaken, Theo struggled with the door handle. It opened suddenly and he tumbled out onto his hands and knees.
"Are you okay?" he asked, standing slowly. She studied him. He blinked. Did her eyes just flash? No. No way. Maybe he was concussed and seeing things.
"Are you okay?" he asked again, shivering from the damp cold seeping through his shirt. Then he noticed her clothes, or lack thereof. She wore a white institutional-looking sack dress. Was there a hospital somewhere close by? Nope. Not that he could remember. They were in the middle of nowhere.
It happened again. Her eyes seemed to flash! He wasn't imagining it. Definitely lavender, the flash gone almost before he registered it.
Another shiver shook him. Theo looked around. There was nothing here. The dark pine forest scented the air. Drizzle fell. Fog drifted in patches making the landscape eerie. No paths. No crossroad. Where had she come from?
"You'd better get in out of the cold and rain," he told her.
She tilted her head to the side and studied him. Theo noticed her emerald-green eyes for the first time, then her pale, almost platinum hair, long and soaking wet.
"Get in the car. You'll freeze," he urged, pointing.
The girl finally moved, calmly walking around to the passenger side.
Theo, still shivering, studied the driver-side door. No dent. No scratches marred the spots of rust. What had he hit?
He climbed in and slammed the door shut, turned the key and heard clicking, the engine not even turning over. Shit! What now?
The girl watched him.
"Damn! Decrepit piece of garbage!" Theo swore, thumping the steering wheel.
The girl reached over and touched the keys in the ignition, then sat back, watching him with big green eyes.
"Yeah. I tried that. I'll have to check the engine. Maybe something came loose." He turned the key again out of habit. The engine started, grinding ominously then settling into idle. "Huh. How 'bout that?"
Twisting the wheel, he straightened the Cherokee, drove, and reached over to turn the heat up, blower on high. Welcome warmth arrived. He shivered.
"Who are you?" he asked. "I can take you home. Where do you live?"
She studied him.
There! Definitely a flash, Theo thought. Damned weird.
The girl tilted her head to the side slightly, stared, then said, "You're different," in a light voice.
"I'm different? Me? I've got nothing on you! Who are you?"
"One."
"One what?" Theo asked.
She didn't respond. Turning to look ahead, she said, "They're there." She pointed through the windshield.
"Who?"
Straining to see into the dark road ahead, flashing red lights appeared in the distance. As he drew closer, he saw two army trucks and a barricade blocking the road. Soldiers were inspecting a minivan stopped at the barricade. He slowed carefully to avoid skidding.
"Are they looking for you?" Theo asked.
The girl nodded once.
Why would the army be looking for a small girl? "Who are you?" he asked again, slowing to a stop behind the minivan.
A soldier approached, drizzle running off his helmet and rain slicker, a rifle over his shoulder. Theo lowered the cracked window to speak. The soldier looked at him, then the girl. He smiled suddenly and stepped back.
"She's not in this one," he yelled to the other soldiers. "You can go now," he informed Theo, pointing ahead.
A temporary barricade was lifted. Theo, confused, followed the minivan through and sped up. Wipers cleared the drizzle, the rear lights of the minivan sparkling as it pulled away.
Out-accelerated by a friggin' minivan! Theo thought. It's embarrassing.
He glanced at the girl. "Who are you? Why is the army looking for you? And what happened to that soldier? Why didn't he recognize you?"
"I asked him not to."
"You asked . . .? You didn't say a thing!"
"You don't hear me," she answered, staring ahead.
Theo, exasperated and confused, pulled over and stopped halfway off the wet road. He turned to her. "What's going on?"
She remained silent, still staring ahead, patient and calm.
What was he supposed to do? Turf her out into the chilly wet night to die from exposure? Shit! Why me? Why tonight? Theo steered the Cherokee back onto the road and accelerated. He'd drop this strange girl off at the police station, if anyone was there this late at night.
Wipers swept the windshield intermittently, clearing a fine mist. Weak headlights made drifting patches of fog appear ghostly. The engine complained as Theo drove steadily higher into the Appalachians, the road becoming sinuous.
Every so often, he glanced at the girl. She was motionless, her hands folded in her lap, eyes watching ahead. As the ends of her hair dried they turned pale platinum, almost white. Her hair was very long, falling straight in a curtain to below her waist. Her face showed no expression. Her eyes were too big for her face, nose small, mouth small, lips surprisingly lush, she seemed to be eight, nine, or ten.
He couldn't decide. She could be older, for all he knew.
She had a frail body, on the edge of being malnourished, thin arms and legs, dirty bare feet. Where had she come from? And why would the army be looking for her?
He wracked his brain. As far as he could remember, that section of Virginia was forested and uninhabited.
The road changed, now descending, still sinuous with switchback curves. Through the thick forest he caught glimpses of light. The road hit the valley floor. He drove into Lebanon, a small town of less than four thousand. This late, Main Street was deserted. A few street lights battled back darkness without much success. Shadowed store windows passed.
Ahead, on the right, the police station - a squat two-storied building - was the only one with lights. Theo parked.
"Let's go. The police will be able to help you."
The girl sat quietly, ignoring him. She looked at the police station, giving no indication she'd heard him. He tried again.
"You have to come with me. They'll look after you."
"No."
It was said softly, not defiant, a simple statement.
Theo shrugged, got out and, shivering in the cold damp air, headed into the station.
Officer Ripkin glanced up from the newspaper lying on the reception desk. A mug of coffee steamed next to him. Large and still boyish despite his fifty-plus years, he smiled. "Hey, Theo. What's up?"
"Caught the late shift?" Theo asked.
"Yup. Can't complain. Marcy and the girls are driving me nuts. They want me to take them on a Disney cruise. Can you believe it? A ship full of screaming kids? That's not what I call a vacation."
He pointed to the newspaper. "Cozumel. Great packages. Ten days. Everything included. That's what I call a vacation."
Closing the newspaper, he asked, "What can I do for you?"
"I picked up a girl out on Route 616. I think she's lost."
Ripkin looked behind Theo. "I don't see anyone."
"She's in the truck. She won't come out."
"Well, let's go see," he responded, sliding off the stool. "We haven't had a report of a missing child."
Theo led Officer Ripkin to the Cherokee. The girl sat quietly in the passenger seat. Ripkin leaned to look through the passenger window. The girl turned her head, looked at Ripkin, and her eyes flashed lavender so briefly it was hardly noticeable.
Theo saw it. While he knew what to watch for, it still amazed him; like something out of the X-Files.
Then Ripkin straightened and smiled at Theo. "She's fine. Nothing to worry about." With that, Officer Ripkin turned and headed back into the station.
"Hey!" Theo yelled. "You're supposed to take her!"
The station door closed.
Through the door window, the girl looked at Theo, her emerald-green eyes expressionless.
"What did you do?" he asked to the closed window.
The girl turned her face away, again staring ahead.