Chapter 9: Beginnings Part 2

“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. 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 downright 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 blatantly 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 without them thinking she was a fruit loop?

Who the hell would believe her?

Only one thing was for 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 it away; but knew that would not solve her problems.

Exhausted, 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 who wore uniforms, carried weapons and had unrecognizable insignias “OBF” written on their sleeves. There were rooms of computers and Egyptian like artifacts, and a big rectangular black slab of stone, which seemed 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. However, 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 her PC. But she 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, surely this Pete Reynolds would at least call her back and maybe answer her questions. Perhaps a few more visions and she may be able to piece it all together herself—if her sanity could hold on.

Not more than thirty minutes had passed, when Kate became aware of an unnatural stillness in the air, akin to 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 big, 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.