It was a one hour and twenty minute drive from where she lived to arrive at the shopping mall at Gulfirst Town. A nondescript town positioned in a classic middle of nowhere out in the wop wops. The vandalized sign on the roadside stated: “Population 14,854.”
Quite a number for an outback country town.
Kate’s driving skills were excellent and long distant driving was always a form of relaxation for her. It was a nice opportunity for Kate to revel in another occasional passion—racing her restored two-door ‘69 Chevelle. It was classic metallic silver with black vinyl roof and leather upholstery, powered by a naturally aspirated 396-cubic-inch, big-block V8. “Gas guzzler but buckets of grunt with earth-rotating torque,” she would yell to the young hoons who would challenge her in a street race. She referred to herself as an “older hoon with attitude,” and she had proven that to the local constabulary. Kate disliked being told what to do and admitted to having a slight problem with authority.
Maybe that’s why I am divorced, she mused. I don’t know how to compromise. I like to be in control.
The old car rumbled into the mall’s parking lot. Kate locked it up and went inside, not really sure which specific shop she had to go into. The particular vision that had hit her so violently was not very clear or detailed and had given her a headache. She started to feel a bit foolish, but at least she was doing nothing out of the ordinary, and no one was taking any notice of her. The mall was air conditioned and according to the “Welcome” sign consisted of two large supermarkets and forty-five shops. The usual stuff like hairstylists, a baker, butcher, and maybe a candlestick maker she considered. She made a mental note that she had to get a haircut before summer hit.
There were quite a few people out, typical for a Saturday morning. She was lucky to be up this early, normally she would be sleeping in after her Friday night work out at the club. Luckily, the band was not playing that week.
She passed a newsagent and decided to buy a lottery ticket. Hey, you never know. Buying from a kiosk out of town could be lucky, if you believe in luck.
Half an hour later having covered all the shops, she was about to give up and grab some lunch when she felt as if someone had yanked her Adidas t shirt by the sleeve and whirled her around. But no one was there. However, she was facing a shop she could have sworn was not there before. She felt an enormous pulling power, like the polarity of magnetism, drawing her to this little shop.
Her stomach grumbled, but this time she was far from hungry.
The sign above the door said The Divine Universe. It looked like your normal run of the mill knick-knack shop that sold incense, crystal balls, candles, all sorts of spiritual enlightenment equipment, the stuff that Kate would not give the time of day. Okay, feet, she thought, no harm looking.
She opened the door, and the aroma was quite overwhelming but not unpleasant. The sweet spicy incense was warm and quite sensual. There were posters of unicorns and big-breasted goddesses and dark hooded figures with grotesque limbs bending over crystal balls. All over the ceiling were little glitter stars, suns and planets swaying in the air. The usual cannabis pipes and bongs of various sizes were housed in a glass cabinet. There were a few people looking around who left when she entered. She was all alone. Where was the owner? Probably smoking pot, Kate smiled.
Along a shelf were the usual ornamental elves, fairies, dragons, and dungeon figurines, medieval castles, war figures carrying various weapons, and amusing gargoyles with psycho leers all over their painted faces.
Some incredible chess sets consisting of weird space creatures all painted vivid colors versus, by the look of them, humans, well apart from the mutant parts sticking out of their heads and bodies. Bit tacky. There was another set that was all gold and black that had Egyptian pharaohs, pyramids, sphinxes, mummies, and a host of classic pieces you would find in a museum. The almost naked pawns were the slaves, the first to be sacrificed. The challengers were human like figures that had animal beast heads. It was hard to decipher what they were representing. She thought the Egyptian side was very elegant.
Further along at the back of another shelf was an assortment of Buddha figures. They looked your typical badly painted, cheaply designed type you could buy in the junk shops. Good for paperweights and not much else, Kate thought. Some of them had trays in their laps, some had their hands hidden in their robes, and a few had their fingers pointing in the air as if they were just about to make a point. She did hold a slight fondness for Buddha and the peace and tranquility that he represented. Kate did not consider herself an atheist, rather more agnostic. Give her tangible proof, and she would consider it.
There was a small, gold Buddha that looked as if he was the last one of his kind for sale. All the other Buddhas were crammed together and looked junky. This one stuck out from the others because the handiwork was detailed and expensive looking. It looked so vibrant, she was sure it was going to stand up and say “hello” to her. “Hello, buy me,” she laughed. On further inspection, it was a damn fine work of art as someone had cleverly crafted it by hand. It did not look as if it had come out of a mold.
Positioned on the Buddha’s tray was a small stone, nothing to write home about, and Kate only glanced at it. The next second, she felt a surge of energy flow through her, and the feeling was almost sexual. She felt her cheeks go red, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her change. No one had, she was still alone.
She saw her hand reach over and pick the stone up.
“Are you okay, lady?” She heard the words, her eyes were open, but they were filled with blackness. The pungent stabbing scent of smelling salts stuck under her nose brought her round. She found herself lying half prone on the ground.
“Wha–what happened?” Kate stammered.
“You fainted, love,” said the old woman who had given her the salts.
“Damn heat,” mumbled a middle aged man standing above them. “The one shop here they don’t have any air conditioning.” The couple helped Kate to her feet.
“Thank you. I think I’m okay now.”
“You look after yourself.” The woman patted her on the shoulder.
“Maybe she hasn’t had breakfast yet,” the man commented.
“I’m fine. Thanks for that,” Kate mumbled and grinned at the couple.
“Look, you’ve dropped something, darling.” The woman bent down and picked up the stone. “Now that’s a pretty thing, Harold, isn’t it? Here sweetie, don’t you go and lose this now.” She handed it back to Kate, who cupped it in her hand. “It looks like a good luck charm. If it is, don’t you lose it, could be very handy.”
“Thanks again.”
She stood still for a minute letting her heart slow down. She studied the stone. It had tiny black symbols or marks on it she hadn’t noticed before. Apart from feeling a little warm, it felt like…a stone. That was so embarrassing fainting. She stared at it. Was it glowing?
She had to get out of this shop. It was so damn hot.
Kate walked back to her car and sat down. She sipped some water from her cooler bottle. What had happened? Heat did not normally affect her, and it was not that hot when she first walked into the shop. Did the stone contain some form of energy that caused her to faint?
She remembered she had picked the stone up, and that was it. She had no recollection between the time she had it in her hand and lying on the ground.
Then it dawned on her that she had not paid for it.
She hurried back to the shop. Behind the counter was a woman who was wiping the glass display counter.
“I’m sorry. I picked this up from one of your Buddhas without paying for it.”
The woman looked at the stone. “Haven’t seen that before, that’s not mine, and the Buddhas don’t have stones.”
Kate walked over to the shelf that held the Buddhas. They were there all right; trays, hands in robes, and fingers in the air. But her little gold Buddha that had stuck out was not there.
The woman had fol
lowed her. “Hey, you were the lady that fainted. Sorry I couldn’t get over to you in time. I was up a ladder, hands full of stock. I saw you leave, and I hoped you were all right. Just keep the stone. Are you okay now?”
“Yes, thanks to that kind, elderly couple who gave me some smelling salts.”
“Oh that’s nice. I didn’t actually see them, but I saw you fall and then get back up again.”
“You didn’t see them? But they helped me up.”
“Keep the rock, sweetie, and it might pay to go see a doc in case you got a concussion.” The woman gave her a wry look, turned away, and carried on with her cleaning.
Dazed, Kate walked back to her car.
She drove home with the stone in her pocket, wondering what the hell to do now. She made a call to see her doctor for a full check-up.
“You are pretty healthy, so in my opinion. I really can’t help you regarding your visions and voices you say you hear. Perhaps going to a psychiatrist could be the best solution.”
Kate was looking at herself in her bedroom mirror, mimicking what the shrink had told her earlier.
Actually, this is a total waste of my time.
“I knew he’d say that,” she said to her reflection. She thought about what she had just said. He had not said that. He listened to her, but his mouth did not move. Did he think that? Either I am going insane or I can’t wake up from a dream. She half expected her reflection to wink at her or stick her tongue out, which she did and could not stop laughing until the tears rolled down her cheeks.
That night, with her stone by her bedside, the dreams siphoned and flashed through her overworked brain. They became more vivid in their details. Spaceships and battles, human like slaves working deep inside dark underground caverns, some beaten by huge uniformed beings, a magnificent throne, precious treasures and jewelry, but the bloodshot eyes appeared, superimposing themselves in her mind.
The gravel voice was speaking to her, though in a strange language. Persuading her, coaxing her…
Again, every morning upon awakening in a sweat, Kate would type up as much as she could interpret from her dreams. Nothing made sense.
Over the next couple of weeks, Kate had collated the material to write reports on what she was visualizing. She was convinced she was receiving some form of telepathy from an entity or being of some sort “with the most hideous red eyes you can imagine,” she typed with exclamation marks. And somehow, that stone was providing her with an assortment of exotic looking places, including some beautiful country scenery with two moons in the night sky, weird looking peoples, graphic torture scenes, and horrific wars. Some of her visions were abhorrent. Her late night television flicks were lame compared. Words could not describe these dreams that were no-holds-barred. Some scenes seemed peaceful but most were downright scary. It was as if she was there, and yet it was like watching a bunch of movie scenes that had no logical story line.
It was fascinating and frustrating. What would she do with these stories? Whom could she tell these to?
Who the hell would believe her?
Only one thing was sure–the stone had to have something to do with it. Perhaps it was a transmitter. Ever since she possessed the stone, the visions would occur at any time and more frequently, and in full color. But why her? Were these occurrences she was witnessing real? Were they happening now or in the past, or was it the future she was witnessing, and where?
Was she guided to this stone?
Too many questions and absolutely no damn answers.
For a second she even contemplated throwing away her stone, but knew that would not solve her problems.
Hmmm. Dare she—
She fell asleep one night with the stone in her hand.
Since then, over the next few nights, her dreams changed, and though they were strange, the dreams had more flow, more detail, though they seemed to be unrelated to her previous horror ones. She visualized events that were taking place inside what she could only describe as a huge underground base. There were people, humans; they wore uniforms with unrecognizable insignias “OBF” written on them. They carried weapons, there were rooms of computers and Egyptian like artifacts, and a big rectangular black slab of stone, which seemed a little strange. She had one particular dream where she could hear distinct conversations between, by the look of things, key personnel. She learned the names of two characters in her dream. The clarity of the dream was amazing. Again, she would wake in the mornings, sweaty, and notate what she had experienced.
An idea occurred to her. She had nothing to lose, and she was now beginning to trust her instinct. Why not try and locate these people and see if these events she was witnessing were actually happening and not her vivid imagination? Let’s see, a Gene Tremaine or Doctor Pete Reynolds.
Surprisingly, finding Doctor Pete Reynolds was easier than she thought. Simply ringing directories, she got a phone number just in the next State.
The hardest part was what would she say to him?
“Hi, my name is not important but you have been repeatedly appearing in my dreams along with all sorts of fantastic places, battles, spaceships, you know!”
Yeah, a crank caller high on dope.
However, as she kept reasoning to herself, she had nothing to lose, except maybe this Pete Reynolds complaining about a nuisance caller. But she had to do something. Otherwise, these dreams and visions were going to take over her whole life. But trying to speak with the man was a near impossibility. She left a message with his answering service to ring her back.
She waited twenty-four hours and no reply. She tried again and said it was urgent.
That did not work.
A day later, the woman on the other end said in a snotty voice, “Yes, I will leave a message for Dr. Reynolds.”
Kate retorted, “Tell that Dr. Reynolds that I know about his team’s off world missions through the BSP. I know about this Locum threat. Tell him, if he exists, that he can take this magic rock and stick it where the sun don’t shine.”
SLAM!
Fuck it! With a sigh of anger, she quickly downed some peach schnapps. God, two shots of these and you relax like a baby. She had the dreams, had the wording and, her interpretation down on the PC, but she still did not have a clue what a BSP was, let alone a Locum, or a Cantal. These were meaningless words picked up in conversations she had overheard in her dreams. If this was truly real, maybe they were able to answer her questions. Perhaps a few more visions and she may be able to piece it all together—if her sanity could hold on.
Not more than thirty minutes had passed, when Kate became aware of an unnatural stillness in the air, a bit like the calm before the storm. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Kate went to the corner of her window. It was dusk now, but she could sense movement outside. She sensed danger. With heart pounding, she grabbed her cordless phone, tipping her schnapps over. She dialed the emergency number, but got no dial tone. Damn line was dead. Then all the lights went out. Shit! What have I done?
The front door came crashing down and armed masked figures came pouring in pointing automatic machine guns at her. Kate put her shaking arms up in fear, and everything seemed to move as if she were floating in a bubble.
“GET DOWN! DROP TO THE FLOOR!” was the command. Kate did just that. Next second she felt handcuffs being secured on her wrists, and she was hoisted to her feet. She was frisked and marched out of her apartment, almost carried out by two hefty uniformed men. They were police!
Next thing she knew she was in a cell. Alone, she freaked out a bit. What? How? Why? All ran through her mind. The phone calls, that had to be it. But what crime had she committed? How the hell they got to her address so fast was amazing. Did the police know what was going on, or had someone contacted them to arrest her? Should she get a lawyer? They had not even read out her rights.
One thing was for sure. She was not imagining this. She had stumbled into something bi
g, certainly over her head.
A cop, she assumed, though not in uniform, came to her cell door, unlocked it, and gestured for her to exit. Without a word, even though she was bursting for information, Kate went with him to the entrance area. She was handed her belongings: a few coins, and her front door key.
Scornfully she spat, “Do I need to sign for these?”
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to see a very tall, stern looking man with Ray-Bans dressed in a dark suit like something out of Men in Black.
“Please come with me,” he whispered softly, which took Kate somewhat aback as the man looked intimidating and his voice did not match up with his image. She held out her wrists for the inevitable cuffs, but he ignored her and guided her out of the building. Shit, maybe he was Mafia and she was the hit!
“Is this about the phone call I made?” Kate managed as they walked out of the door towards a dark 4WD. “I am sorry ma’am. I am not at liberty to say anything to you.” No, certainly not mafia, but that was the end of that conversation.
Chapter 5—When Worlds Collide