The Mantis (Pt. 05)

3:45am. North of Roswell, New Mexico.

Fire engines and police cruisers surround the entrance of A.D.R.E. Red and blue strobe lights illuminate the night sky. Locked in a heated standoff with the facility's holographic drone security system, emergency personnel wait to enter the secret government research facility.

Off in the distance, a midnight blue Ford F150 speeds across the rugged, picturesque semi arid landscape. Wild animals on the roadside scurry for safety as the truck roars past them kicking a cloud of dust into the air. Eventually, it arrives outside the main gate. After passing through it, the driver stops and waits.

Unable to navigate the congested parking lot, he pulls into the parking garage and makes his way to the upper deck and parks. Minutes later, silhouettes of two young men step out of the vehicle and slam the doors. They walk over to a ledge overlooking the chaos below, one carrying a small case.

"It's too early in the morning for this bullshit, Erick."

"Do you want some of my coffee, Ian?"

"No, I'm good."

"Are you sure," Erick asks.

"I'd rather be at home in bed with my wife."

"So what do you think is going on down there," Erick asks, taking a sip of coffee.

The light breeze whips Ian's shoulder length dusty blonde hair as he leans over the metal rail to study the situation. After a few minutes, he backs away and shakes his head.

"It looks like they're trying to get inside the building," Ian says.

"Did you call Brett?"

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"I don't blame you," Erick says, peeking over the rail. "I haven't forgot about the last time we woke him up in the middle of the night."

"Don't remind me," Ian says.

"I'm just saying."

Ian opens the plastic case, takes out a pair of high-tech night vision goggles and slips them over his head. After tightening the straps, he adjusts the lenses. Then, he scans the building and the parking lot below.

"I don't see any signs of a fire," Ian says.

"It's probably a false alarm," Erick says.

"Maybe, but the lobby door is shattered."

"Is anyone going in the building?"

"I doubt it. Security drones are guarding it," Ian says, removing the goggles.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Give me a minute, Erick. I'm thinking."

Suddenly, Erick's phone chimes. He takes it off his belt and reads the text message.

"Well, someone woke Brett up," Erick says.

"Tell me you're fucking kidding," Ian says.

"Nope, Brett's on his way here right now."

"We need to get down there - like now," Ian says.

"It's going to be one of those fucking days," Erick says, pouring his coffee on the ground.

"You know it."

Together, they make their way to an elevator and down to the parking lot below. Once there, they zigzag through the emergency personnel searching for someone in charge. Eventually, they spot a firefighter with a handheld radio barking out orders like an Army drill sergeant. He's an older man, stereotypical of a rugged image portrayed in the movies, with short salt and pepper hair and a thick, bushy mustache to match.

"Find another way in the damn building if you have to," he shouts, flinging a hand in the air.

"Excuse me, sir," Ian says, approaching him.

"Who the Hell are y'all," he asks.

"I'm Ian. This is my twin brother Erick."

"That doesn't tell me a whole helluva lot," the man says.

"This facility is on lockdown," Ian says.

"Tell me something I don't already know."

"You need to wait until Brett Scarborough gets here," Ian says.

"We've waited long enough."

"Then, I suggest you sit down and wait some more," Ian says.

"Someone get this carbon copied clown out of my face," he shouts.

Suddenly, Erick's phone rings. He steps away from the conversation to take the call while Ian and the fireman exchange a few choice words.

"Brett's at the main gate," Erick hollers.

"He needs to hurry up," the man says.

"I'd watch the attitude if I were you," Ian says.

"Excuse me, but I'm running the show around here."

"You can't say I didn't warn you," Ian mumbles, walking away.

Soon, a black Ford Expedition with chrome rims and tinted windows rolls through the main gate, maneuvers through the parking lot, and stops near Ian and Erick. After a few minutes, the driver steps out of the vehicle, slams the door and sweeps his eyes through the sea of pandemonium.

"Who's in charge," Brett hollers.

"Are you Brett Scarborough?"

"I'm the one asking the questions here," Brett quips.

"I'm Captain Roberts with the - "

"I don't care who the fuck you are," Brett interrupts. "Why are you here?"

"We received a call about a fire."

"Do you see a fire," Brett questions.

"No."

"Is there smoke coming from the building?"

"No, but -"

"Then, I suggest y'all leave or I'll have you removed - by force - if necessary," Brett says, jabbing his finger into his chest. "Do I make myself clear?"

"I can't do that," Captain Roberts says.

"Excuse me?"

"I said - I can't do that."

"Ian," Brett summons, gesturing his hand.

"Yes, sir," Ian says, approaching them.

"If this parking lot isn't clear in twenty minutes, use whatever force necessary," Brett says.

"Yes, sir," Ian says, reaching for his phone.

"That won't be necessary," Captain Roberts says.

"I knew you'd see things my way," Brett says.

Captain Roberts turns and waves his hand in the air.

"Pack it up, fellas. We're leaving," he shouts.

Before long, emergency vehicles begin rolling out the gate. At first, it's only police cruisers. When the fire trucks start leaving, Brett heads for the building. As he approaches, holograms of soldiers fade away revealing sophisticated weaponized drones. After they zip away, he notices the shattered bulletproof glass door.

"What the - ," Brett mumbles, raking his shoe through broken glass.

"It looks like they tried to break in the facility," Erick says.

"Was I talking to you," Brett snaps, whipping his head around.

"No, sir."

"Then, shut the fuck up. Call Mason. Tell him I want this door fixed - today."

After inspecting the damage, Brett places the palm of his hand on a digital scanner. Then, he punches in a numeric code and slides his ID badge through the security pad to silence the ringing alarms. When he enters the building, Ian shakes his head at Erick and follows.

Inside, the lobby looks like a war zone. Heavy footsteps reverberate from the walls as they spread out to investigate while Erick contacts Mason. Before long, Brett finds two damaged security drones laying on the floor, a third with a wooden chair on top of it.

"Over here, Brett," Ian hollers, kneeling on the floor.

"What is it," Brett asks.

"It's a guard drone shredded to pieces."

"There should be someone dead in here."

"I don't see anyone," Ian says, looking around.

"I want to see the security cameras," Brett says, heading towards the elevator.

When Brett summons the elevator, the doors slide open. A screwdriver on the floor and an open escape hatch catch his attention. He bends over and picks up the tool, then stares up into the dark elevator shaft and shakes his head.

"Mason is on his way," Erick says, rushing inside the elevator.

"I want this entire facility searched from top to bottom," Brett says, pushing the button for the third floor.

"What exactly are we looking for," Ian asks.

Brett turns and stares at Ian without saying a word. Seconds later, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. A pungent smell of smoke lingering in the air attacks their senses when they exit.

When the group heads down the hallway, Erick spots a smoldering trash can hidden inside a cleaning closet. Putting together the bits and pieces, Brett slams the door and continues on his way to the security desk with Ian and Erick following. Once he rounds the corner at the end of the corridor, he discovers it abandoned.

"Check the cameras," Brett says, slamming the screwdriver on the counter.

"I'm on it," Ian says, stepping behind the desk.

"Unlock the containment area, Erick. I want to know if Amber is still in her cell."

Erick flips a few switches on the control panel and the electronic locks disengage. Once Brett pushes the steel door open, Erick follows him through it. They find Mike, one of the nightshift security guards, asleep on the floor with his back against the wall and his arms folded on top of his knees.

"Wake your ass up," Brett says, nudging Mike in the ribs with his foot.

"Huh....," Mike groans, lifting his head.

"Are you the one who called me?"

"Yeah," Mike mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Mike's lack of urgency taxes Brett's patience waiting for him to stand up. Sensing Brett is about to go ballistic, Erick slips past them and heads down the hallway to Amber's cell. When he discovers it unsecured, he steps inside to investigate.

Eventually, Mike stands up on his feet. When he does, Brett snaps. He grabs Mike by the throat and slams him against the concrete wall, holding him several inches off the floor.

"Is that how you speak to me," Brett questions, staring into his eyes.

"Ughh," Mike gasps, beating his boots against the wall.

"Start talking," Brett says, tightening his grip.

"Brett," Erick hollers, "You need to have a look at this."

"Thggh ugggh - " Mike garbles.

"I want - to know - what happened here," Brett asks, loosening his grip.

"Th- there was - a fire."

"I don't see a fire," Brett says.

"W- we were eva - evacuating the building."

"Bullshit," Brett says, tightening his grip again.

Seconds, long punishing seconds, tick by as Brett stares into Mike's terrified eyes watching him choke. Suddenly, Brett explodes with an adrenaline fueled rage.

"Get - the fuck - out of my sight," Brett says, throwing Mike through the doorway.

Mike hits the floor hard and skids across the waxed tiles until he plows into the wall on the other side shoulder first.

"Brett," Erick hollers again.

"Hang on a fucking minute," Brett yells.

Still fuming, Brett storms down the hall. Once he steps in the room with Erick, he sees Tim's cold lifeless body laying on the bed. Unmoved at the sight of death, he bends over, picks up Tim's handgun from the floor, and removes the magazine. After counting the bullets, he puts it back in.

"Someone took off her handcuffs," Erick says.

"Or she removed them herself," Brett says, kicking pieces of an ink pen across the floor.

"Tim should've never opened the door."

"He didn't fired a shot either," Brett says, handing the gun to Erick.

"That's odd, considering there's no place to hide."

"Who the fuck is that," Brett asks, noticing a human-like husk standing beside the window.

"I have no idea," Erick says, glancing over his shoulder.

"It looks like something sucked the life out of whoever it was," Brett says, touching the husk.

Pieces of dried remains crumble and fall on the floor at Brett's feet.

"There were only two guards on duty tonight," Erick says.

"I want to know who else was in here," Brett says.

"I'll have to run some DNA tests," Erick says.

"Make it happen," Brett says, turning to leave the room.

"Yes, sir."

Once Brett exits, he heads back to the security desk.

"Did you find anything," Brett asks.

"You're not going to believe this shit," Ian says.

"Enlighten me."

"Amber left with Ethan," Ian says, replaying footage of them running down a hallway.

"Where are they?"

"That's going to take some time," Ian says.

"I don't care," Brett says, pounding his fist on the desk. "Find them."

"Yes, sir."

"Before the CIA starts asking questions about a missing alien," Brett adds, walking away.

"Where are you headed?"

"I'll be in Ethan's office."

Leaving Ian sitting at the security desk, Brett walks back to the elevator. Random thoughts begin to circulate in his head, each one making him madder than he already is.