Chapter 1
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The engines lost thrust as the fuel ran dry. The passenger jet slowed and began to nose over. It spiraled as it plummeted the thirty thousand feet to the ground below, digging a crater and fracturing into thousands of pieces upon impact. The resting place of the disaster being a remote forest in rural New Jersey.
Nineteen hours later...
Power had returned to Barton's Bar after a short outage earlier in the day. A patron rose from his bar stool with a scowl, tossing back a whiskey shot before pitching a dollar into the tip jar. “Keep your feet on the ground, mate. Too easy to lose your head out there.”
The bartender, Mace Hardy, smiled and nodded thanks. As the man walked away, his smile turned to wide-eyed look and a head shake. The exchange was odd, as were an increasing number of the world's inhabitants.
Picking up a rag as he listened to the TV mounted behind him on the wall, Mace wiped what he thought was probably the millionth water ring from the top of the bar.
“In a new development, we're hearing from unconfirmed sources this evening, that 'no fatalities' are being reported from the jetliner that crashed in Wharton State Forest of Central New Jersey last night. The military has the entire area cordoned off. This is the first information they have released. The plane was unoccupied. No passengers... or crew members. Daniel.”
The news anchor replied, “Rachel? Unoccupied? Is that even possible?”
The perky blonde reporter shrugged. “We'll have to wait to see, Daniel. This accident has been shrouded in secrecy since first being reported. Back to you.”
Attention waned as the smiling anchor began to blather-on about talk of an upcoming commission vote.
“What has it been... six years?” Mace thought to himself. “I gotta get a life.”
His head shook as he polished the bar top and mulled over his situation. One of the regulars strolled through the front door.
“Johnnnnny...” Mace said slowly. “Let me guess, a cold mug and a Mangrove Special Dark?”
Johnny Tretcher sat on the stool the man had just abandoned. “Wow, it's as if you know me or something. How's biz today?”
Mace looked over at the mostly empty glass jar sitting on the counter. “Slow afternoon. We lost power again for about twenty minutes. Only had a half dozen people in since four.”
Johnny pulled out a five. Reaching over he stuffed it in the jar. “There you go. Now you're up a fiver.”
Mace smirked. “So you'll be here until what... eleven? That's five hours. Buck an hour? I'd say that about sums you up.”
Johnny shook his head. “Hey now! That was rude. I'd like to talk to the management! The workers here are a bunch of ingrates and the customer service is abysmal!”
Mace laughed. “OK, but just so you know, I'll be representing the management today.”
“How's your mother doing?”
Mace took a deep breath as he poured the thirty-nine-degree Mangrove into the chilled mug. “She struggles. Her doctor only wants to treat the symptoms with more meds. She's trying out a new doc next week. From what she was told by others, he might be able to help. Just wish she wasn't on the other side of the country. And thanks for caring, by the way. I'll let her know you asked about her.”
Johnny replied, “Your mom is a class act. Should be more in the world like her.”
Johnny looked up at the TV on the wall as a talking head babbled on about local politics. “Anything new on that plane crash?”
Mace turned to look at the tag lines scrolling by as he propped his elbow on the bar. “They're now speculating it may have been empty. What was it, eleven o'clock last night when it went down? Military has that place cordoned off for a few miles in every direction and they aren't talking.”
Johnny took a swig and chuckled.
Mace asked. “What's so funny?”
A finger pointed up at the TV. “Of all the places to go down— Jersey. They'd have been lucky to make it out of there alive anyway.”
Mace frowned. “Hey, take it easy on my Jersey people. Half my family comes from there.”
Johnny nodded. “And look at what happened. You spend all your free hours working this dive pouring beers for jerks like me. Construction still slow?”
The bartender nodded. “Yeah. Only managed two full days last week and nothing so far this week. This economy... and this job... they're killing me. Almost makes me long for my Army days. Had I stuck it out I'd be at sixteen years now.”
Johnny took another swig. “Yeah, but you'd have missed all this.”
A second news flash about the crash came up on the TV screen.
Johnny said, “Click up the volume.”
The anchor on the screen looked as though he was going to burst with excitement.
“This just in. We have exclusive word from credible sources about where this flight originated. Through the investigations of our parent network, we have word of a passenger plane gone missing. Flight 7220, traveling from Caracas, Venezuela, to Managua, Nicaragua, with seventy-three passengers and four crew aboard, went off radar early yesterday afternoon. We also have confirmed reports that an unidentified passenger jet briefly entered Dominican airspace last evening, on a northward heading. We may have found our plane. We're working on confirmation from both the Venezuelan and Nicaraguan governments at this time. We'll be bringing you updates live as new information comes in. Daniel Vasquez, Channel 9 News.”
Johnny leaned back on his barstool. “That has hijacking written all over it. Curious though. All those trees and no fire?”
Mace replied, “Wharton State Forest is Central Jersey. Could have been Philly or New York it was heading for. Had they kept going straight north, it'd be Trenton.”
“Trenton? Who'd hijack a plane to Trenton? Even if you were gonna crash it, why there? Headlines would read 'Plane goes down in Trenton, causes fifty million dollars of improvements'.”
Mace slowly shook his head as he stared at the screen. “Trenton is loaded with industrials and chemicals. Would have left a mess.”
A second customer came through the door. He looked around at the empty tables before walking up to sit at the bar.
“What can I get you?” Mace greeted him with a smile.
The man was short in stature and thin, unlike Johnny, tall, and weighing in at close to three hundred pounds.
“I'll just have a soda.”
“Diet?”
An irritated response was returned. “I weigh one forty-five. Do I look like I'm on a diet? Give me the hard stuff.”
Mace took no offense to the answer. In bar-land, half the visitors on any given day would be coming in wearing their problems on their sleeves.
A glass with ice was set on the bar before a button was pressed on the soda tap. “Two dollars or a tab, whichever you like.”
“A tab is fine. I'll probably be here all week.”
“Gotta name?”
“It's Tres. As in uno, dos... I'm the third kid. My parents are comedians.”
Mace returned an easy laugh. “Please tell me you don't have brothers named Uno and Dos.”
“Nope. Robert and Nathaniel. Bobby and Nate. Normal names. You know what short for Tres is? Tres.”
Mace looked him over and asked, “Indian? Tres doesn't quite fit.”
“Quarter,” Tres sighed. “Mom is half. Father's British. Not a lick of Spanish anywhere in me.”
Johnny leaned over with an outstretched hand. “Welcome to our little corner of the world, Tres. Johnny Tretcher. And our attendant this fine evening is Mace Hardy.”
Tres took Johnny's hand. “Mace? As in the weapon or the spray?”
Johnny chuckled. “He wishes. His mom likes to cook and mace is her favorite spice. Tres doesn't sound quite so bad now, does it?”
“I'd take Mace in a heartbeat.”
“What brings you to our neck of the woods today, Tres? If you don't mind my asking.” Johnny gave an interested look.
“Family business.” Tr
es took a sip of his soda. “My father has a patent on a brewing apparatus that speeds up the fermenting process. I'm at the brewery down the street, putting together a demonstration line. And what's with the electric around here? These outages have been killing my progress.”
Johnny grinned. “The beer business? Now we're talking my language. I like this guy.”
A second news flash came on the TV screen.
“This is Don Vasquez with Channel 9 News. We're going live to a spokesman from the National Transportation Safety Board for new information about the crash of flight 7220 out of Caracas.”
The TV changed to an image of a woman standing at a podium. Papers were shuffled in front of her as she listened to an earpiece.
Johnny said, “You been watching this today?”
Tres shook his head. “Don't know anything about it.”
Mace leaned back on the bar with his arms crossed as they waited for the report. “They've sure stayed quiet on this one.”
“Yeah,” Johnny replied. “Well, while we're waiting, how about a fresh brew?” Johnny leaned toward Tres. “The service around here is kinda slow.”
As Mace poured a new bottle into a frosty cold mug. “A slow patron calls for slow service.”
Johnny held up his hand. “Hold up... they're talking.”
“As the investigation into this tragedy continues, we will make every effort to inform the public of the facts. There has been much speculation in the media focusing on hijacking. At this early point in the investigation, we believe that to not be the case. However, we won't know more until we have recovered and analyzed the data from the flight recorder.”
A journalist up front cut in with a question. “Any survivors? The airline said that plane left with seventy-three passengers and four crew.”
The spokeswoman continued. “The plane has been positively identified as flight 7220 out of Caracas, Venezuela. Our early work at the crash site has revealed there were no passengers or crew aboard at the time it came down.”
The journalists standing in front of the podium erupted in questions.
The spokeswoman again held up her hand. “Please. I'm sorry. At this time I have no further information other than to confirm there were no known fatalities at the crash site. We're working with the governments of Venezuela and Nicaragua, as well as the airline operating this aircraft. We'll let you know more as new information becomes available. That's all I have for now. Thank you.”
The spokeswoman turned from the cameras and was hustled away from the podium.
Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Empty plane? You buying that? Somebody had to have been flying that thing.”
Tres said, “It was coming out of Venezuela. Who knows if the passenger manifest is real. We aren't on the best of terms with that government. Maybe they sent the plane our way.”
Mace half laughed, “Let the conspiracy theories begin.”
Johnny swigged his beer. “OK, how about this... crazy pilot, lowers altitude, forces crew into the back, opens the door and makes everyone jump out. He, or she, then follows.”
Tres added. “Or... aliens took 'em. They're all on a ship just outside the atmosphere, probably getting probed about now.”
Mace grimaced at the mental image before replying to Johnny. “You know, if the pilot made them jump, and then he jumped with a parachute, enough time has gone by that he could be sitting right here in this bar.”
Johnny turned and looked around. “I see Marlene and Tracy. Other than that it's just us.”
Johnny stared hard at Tres. “You?”
Tres huffed. “Oh, sure, blame it on the new kid. Do I look like I'd be from Venezuela?”
Johnny joked, “Hey, you come in here ordering a soda when you say you work in the brewing industry. Nothing at all suspicious about that.”
Tres took a final gulp and pushed his empty glass across the counter. “Hit me again, Mr. Hardy. Looks like it's gonna be a long night.”
The power in the bar flickered off and then back on.
Mace sighed. “Here we go again. Been doing that almost every day for a week.”
Johnny said, “They've been trying to pin it on solar activity or something like that. Power going out to our house has always had service problems. Had a generator put in a couple months ago because of it.”
“Propane?” Tres asked. “My dad wanted to put in a propane generator.”
“Yep.”
Several seconds of awkward silence passed before Johnny continued, “You just drinking soda, Tres? Why you hanging out here? Don't tell me you're staying down at the Dortmer. That place is a health hazard all on it's own.”
Tres lifted his fresh, carbonated glass of soda. “To the Dortmer. The only hotel in the northern hemisphere without cable and Internet. I was tempted just to sleep in the rental car.”
Johnny laughed as he lightly slapped Tres on the shoulder. “The only activities they got going on there don't need cable or Internet. Didn't know the brewing business paid so poorly.”
Tres frowned. “My brothers handle sales and stay in nice hotels while they wine and dine the brew-masters. We aren't that well off, and we're trying to expand, so we cut corners where we can. Which means me.”
Johnny said, “Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I have a big house, with a guest house, you're welcome to stay there for the week. It's about a mile and a half away, down on the inlet.”
Mace pointed at Tres, “If you're staying at the Dortmer, I'd take him up on that offer. The guest house is nicer than most hotels.”
Tres turned toward Johnny. “A guest house? And what is it you do for a living?”
“I live. I just sit on my ass and live. I inherited the house and a small but comfortable fortune from my mother's side of the family. In the morning I sit on my boat in the inlet fishing. And at night I come here to pick up stray skinny men who work in the brewing industry.”
After a moment of hesitation, Johnny let out a howling laugh.
Tres asked, “He always this creepy?”
Mace nodded. “Yes. But he's seriously one of the most generous people I know. If you stay there, expect his wife to make him offer you breakfast before you leave in the morning. Great people, the two of them.”
Tres lifted his chin in curiosity. “You have a wife? What are you doing here?”
Johnny laughed. “As I said, I fish in the mornings. Then I sit around the house bugging her all afternoon. By five o'clock she's begging me to leave.”
Mace said, “You'll be begging him to go back home before long.”
Johnny continued, “Monday, Thursday, and Friday she runs around with her friends, so I get a pass to come here.”
“Sadly, this is the best option he's got.” Mace quipped.
“I tried golf, bowling, sailing, competition shooting and just about everything else. Found out most of those were boring without having a buddy or two to run around with. That's why I come here. My buddy is actually working, so he has to be here.”
Mace poured a new Mangrove. “His wife is just as entertaining. She usually sits with us for a bit when she comes to pick him up.”
Johnny took a sip of his fresh, cold brew. “She knows if I'm hanging out here with Mace, I'm OK. He does a good job of keeping me out of trouble. Not woman trouble mind you, just trouble from running my mouth. I tend to get into other people's business.”
Tres sarcastically nodded. “I've noticed.”
Their attention briefly turned back to the TV as the female newscaster came on with a report.
“It has been two weeks since the Large Hadron Collider conducted its latest experiment by smashing atomic particles together. Online speculation in the scientific community has exploded with talk of the first-time discovery of what is being identified as... dark matter. Our on-call science specialist, Dr. Jeffrey Moskowitz, will be telling us exactly what that means.”
The reporter looked at the camera on a split screen as a new face appeared. “Dr. Jeff?”
The Dr. nodded. “Thank you, Rachel. The LHC experiments have reached a new phase. If dark matter is the actual discovery this time around, it will move a whole field of study from theory to fact, transforming much of what we believe to be possible, into what we know to be true...”
Two minutes of science speak later, the camera returned to the reporter. “Thank you Dr. Jeff. You managed to put that into terms that even I understood. I think. Anyway... media relations at the LHC have promised us a groundbreaking story tomorrow at 3PM, Eastern Standard Time. Next up, will our local celebrity, Mr. Football, Ronnie Baines, make it to the pros after this fall season? We'll be right back with that and other sports news, right after these important words from our sponsors.”
Johnny shook his head. “The only dark matter I have an interest in comes out of that Mangrove bottle. And Ronnie... he will for sure be going in the first round.”
Tres replied, “I don't know, that one... dark matter, is pretty big. It ties together a lot of the theories about gravity and the size of the universe. Kind of exciting stuff.”
Johnny laughed. “Maybe if you're a physi-cisi-cist.”
Mace pointed. “OK, that's it Johnny. Gonna have to cut you off.”
“What? I'm only on number three. And it's not like I'm driving. Jane will be here to pick me up at eleven.”
Mace shook his head. “It's not the beer. It's the bad jokes. I can't have you driving off my only customer with such.”
Johnny looked around as he laughed. “Only? When did Marlene and Tracy slip out of here?”
The lone waitress, Vanessa, stepped up behind Johnny. “They've been gone for fifteen minutes. I see you're right on top of everything as usual.”
Johnny pointed at the TV. “Hey, we've been discussing dark matter. Word is they'll be announcing a full discovery of it tomorrow.”
Vanessa replied, “Pfft. Yeah right. Dark matter. The only dark matter you... oh never mind. That's not a discussion I want to get into.”
Vanessa turned and walked toward the kitchen.
Tres looked at Mace with wide eyes. “Who was that? She works here?”
Mace leaned forward on the bar. “That's my daughter.”
Tres pulled back. “Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean anything by that.”
Mace returned a smug laugh. “Just pulling your chain. Not my daughter. Just our waitress.”
“She here every night?”
Johnny half frowned. “I wouldn't get my hopes up if I was you, Pancho. She's likely way out of your dating league. We've seen a few of the guys she runs around with. Big lanky fellas, Hollywood types with fancy cars.”
“Well, maybe she needs someone to take her away from all this.”
Johnny grinned. “Oh yeah? To where? Down to the Dortmer? Hahahaha!”
“Hey, I've got a few things I'm working on. If they pan out, she could be on my arm.”
Mace smiled, then smirked. “Probably more likely to be in your wallet than on your arm. She's a good kid, but pretty full of herself at times.”
Vanessa yelled from the back. “You know I can hear you, right?”
Johnny laughed. “You know we love you like family! That's all that matters!”
Vanessa poked her head out the kitchen door, pointing her finger as she smacked on a fresh stick of gum. “Just remember, I see all and I hear all.”
Their attention was again diverted to the TV as another report flashed on the screen.
“We have new information regarding the crash of the Air Tratta flight traveling from the Cook Islands to Auckland four days ago. The Civil Aviation Authority of New Zealand has just released word that the twenty-nine passengers and three crew aboard that flight... are missing. I repeat, for the second time in four days, we have an airliner that has gone down with no one aboard. We'll be going live to the news desk for a report on this new information following this break.”
Tres gestured toward the TV. “See. This is why I don't fly.”
Johnny poured down the rest of his beer, setting the empty mug on the counter as he gestured for another. “Gentlemen, we have a mystery that needs solving. And I'm going to have to side with Tres on this one. Starting to look like abductions. The question is... are they little green men or little gray men?”
Tres replied, “Who says they're little?”
Johnny laughed. “Maybe they got swallowed up by the dark matter!”
Vanessa came from the back, plopping herself on a stool next to Tres as she leaned on the bar. “You following the plane stories? Two of them now.”
Johnny made a curious face as he pointed at Tres. “He thinks it's aliens.”
Tres defensively protested. “I was making a joke.”
Vanessa put her hand on Tres' shoulder. “Don't sweat it. I don't pay much attention to anything these two say. Everything's a conspiracy with them. I'm Vanessa, by the way.”
Tres held out his hand. “Tres.”
There was an awkward silence for several seconds as Vanessa stared at the outstretched hand.
Johnny said, “Watch out for this one, Vanny, he's a smooth talker.”
Vanessa took his hand for a short shake. “Don't mind Johnny. He's proof that money can't buy you manners.”
Vanessa looked at the tip jar. “Or make you a decent tipper for that matter.”
Johnny frowned. “Hey now, let's not get personal.”
Power to the building flickered and went out. A single emergency light kicked on, illuminating the floor near the doorway to the parking lot.
Vanessa stood. “Third time this week.”
Johnny said, “Grid in this area needs a major overhaul.”
Tres scowled as he looked at his near empty glass. “I suppose that soda fountain requires electric?”
Mace nodded. “Yep. We had an old CO2-forced system up until six months ago. Sorry. No power, no soda.”
Headlights flashed on the front windows of the bar. Seconds later, a short blonde walked through the door.
Jane Tretcher held out her hands. “You people just sit around in the dark all evening?”
Johnny replied, “Power just went off. What's it look like out there?”
Jane walked up to Johnny's stool, placing her arm around and behind her husband. “Pitch black out. Except for emergency lights on a half dozen businesses. Satellite radio even has static.”
Johnny pulled back. “Why would that go out? It's not wired to anything.”
Tres shook his head. “No, but the signals from the ground up to the satellite are.”
Johnny laughed with a slight embarrassment. “Oh yeah, well, tell you all what, if the power isn't back on in the next couple minutes, you're all invited over to our place. The beer is cold as are the sodas. Courtesy of our recently installed gas generators.”
Vanessa let out a sigh as she looked at Mace. “What do you think? Not like we're rockin' the house tonight. And my date won't be here for another two hours.”
Mace nodded as he locked the register. “I can give you a ride there and back if you want.”
Vanessa smiled as she turned with an arm gesture toward the door. “Thanks. Johnny, lead the way.”
Tres remained at the bar for several seconds, unsure of what to do.
Vanessa turned. “Well come on. We can't leave you in here.”
Mace said, “I can bring you back with her if you want to ride with us. Or if you're staying there, Johnny can bring you back in the morning. He gets up early anyway.”
Tres hopped off the stool.
Jane and Johnny pulled out onto the roadway heading south. Tres and Vanessa piled into Mace's four-wheel-drive. As they started down the road, Mace looked up at the sky through the windshield, taking notice of the blackness of the night. The low glow from the city lights was missing. A new moon had the normally washed out sky full of stars. The darkness was a sight they would soon have to get used to.