Inspection: Lost Colony, #1

The Raid

Flashes of blue light pierced through the murky backyard, casting vague and towering shadows across the dark-filled garden. Heavy footsteps resonated through the isolated house. The windowpanes flipped inwards. A cold air stream fluttered the white curtain within the room. Two figures in black burst through, smashing the shattered glass under their fighting boots. The intruders were dressed in military fatigues, black leather gloves, advanced combat helmets, gas masks, and compact back-bags. One had the look of a soldier. His rifle slung over his shoulder, his black helmet adorned with a silver visor that gave his glowing blue eyes an intimidating gleam.

Meanwhile, Anya, still in her pajamas, lay on a narrow sofa in her cramped room on 24th Street. The young woman was fixing her attention on a television report detailing the mysterious disappearance of her parents. According to the reporter, Brandon Arland and his wife Elsa, renowned scientists, had allegedly left Casper under the guise of a secret mission to investigate a supernatural phenomenon at Devil's Tower, only to vanish without a trace. FBI detective Mark Miles expressed certainty that unknown weird creatures had kidnapped the couple due to the military secrets they had developed in the field of telecommunications. 

Her teenage brother, Oliver, was sitting in the attic where his father had established his mini laboratory. The boy was trying to interconnect with his parents using an under-development radar system to detect a person's location using the frequency of his DNA. His father had mentioned many times before imprecise instructions on operating the device.  The schoolboy had been able to trace the location of his sister inside the house and follow the locus of her movements, gaining hope that he could also track his parents. However, every time he attempted to trace them over long distances, an error message emerged and the system would crash, leaving him frustrated and confused.

Oliver refused to trust news reporters and refused to watch any TV coverage of his parents’ case. He always believed that supernatural powers were behind their disappearance. His sister and the police officers mocked his propositions and ignored them.

The lightning outside illuminated the rear garden, revealing dozens of the strangers' figures. The heavy rain threads glittered like silver strings on their compact armed uniforms. Thunder rumbled in the distance, unable to drown out the clatter of the attackers' rifles or the thudding of their boots on the ground and inside the building. The Boom crashes shook the ground, making Anya's teeth clench. The rain was like sand, falling on the window glass. Like the sound of a storm, she thought. As the nature thundering rolled, her mind tried and failed to make sense of what she could see. An ominous shadow loomed larger as it crept towards her open bedroom door.

The woman's eyes widened in fear. The lightning ceased and the lamps extinguished, casting the area into pitch-blackness. Deep darkness shaded the whole place, only intermittent flashes of the soldiers’ beacon spots sparkled here and there. All of her senses intensified and her eyes twisted into sharp looks. For long moments, there was no sound, no light, only the thunder and the splatters of water drops. A cold sweat broke out on her body. She was afraid, she wondered, what should I do? What do they want? Would they kill us? She had never been in a similar situation before. She was scared. Terrified. Please! Do not shoot. You can come in, get inside. She murmured in an inaudible voice, What do you want? Take whatever you need. The girl discontinued whispering as she realized that nobody could hear her. Resounding footsteps resonated in the main pathway at the room door. They are coming. She told herself before shouting. Leave us, go. Go. Don’t come in. Please. Do not fire. I am sorry. I’ve done nothing. I’ll do everything you request. Don't hurt us! I don't know anything!

A cold rough hand snatched her arm, sending chills down her spine. Lights flickered, illuminating the chamber and revealing two armed men. The first assailant pressed her against the couch, the cold barrel of his gun pressed against her chest. The second stood by the door, scanning the surroundings. Fear gripped her, causing her heart to race in panic. What is happening? Why are they here? Questions and worries filled her mind. Where is Mark? He had promised to protect us!

Confusion mingled with terror as she heard a loud voice from inside the house. We are not here for you. We don't seek your blood.

The stranger, gripping her trembling body, leaned in and whispered in a strict accent, We want your brother, Oliver. Tell me where he is, and I'll release you.

I don't know anything. Please, just let me go! The horrified girl pleaded.

One of those men, she thought, seemed familiar. I feel I know him. She had seen him before rambling around the house. He dressed in the same dark clothing and black boots but was not equipped. She confirmed that he appeared many times around and she had seen him with her own eyes before across the bedroom window. However, Frank and his colleagues’ officers from the FBI persisted saying that her visions were mere nightmares. Now, he stood before her, armed and surrounded by a horde of assailants. They should have believed me. A sense of frustration washed over her as she considered the condition. 

A third stepped over and walked into the room. Hands covering her face, she felt his gaze pierce through the stillness, meeting hers for a heartbeat's pause. The man was tall and thin, wearing a different military uniform with a strange black mask. He stood in the middle inspecting the place, holding a pistol. His eyes were blue, too. He had an air of authority. A fighting staff, but not like the others. There was something different about him. Maybe he was the leader of this group. An ambiguous impression about him that made him seem effective and more dangerous, like an angry and grievous enemy. His looks glowed with an abnormal beam that was not anger nor fear. His looks were cold and hard, like those of an animal.  At that moment, Anya’s heart pounded faster. Bad things are going to happen. Am sure. She concluded.

The boy is in the attic. I’ve recognized his frequency. The interloper informed his comrades, his voice carrying an air of certainty and menace.

Anya hopped up, pushing the gun away from her chest. On the other hand, maybe he's just an ordinary trooper who has been sent here to kill my brother and me. Whatever, there's nothing to lose now. I must save Oliver. A surge of determination streamed through the girl’s veins as she rose to her feet, thrusting the gun away. She contemplated the possibility that this man may simply be an usual soldier, sent here with the sole intention of eliminating her and her brother. Nevertheless, she now clung to the belief that there was no other chance left and that she had to fight tooth and nail to save Oliver.

What are you doing? Crazy girl! the man shouted.

Stimulated by the man's exclamation of her apparent foolishness, Anya asserted herself, He is my brother, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure his safety. We share an unbreakable bond, bound by countless shared experiences. You have taken our parents from us, and I refuse to let you harm him. I have absolutely nothing to lose now.

She shouted bouncing out of the room. The man at the door attempted to stop her, but she bumped him away bowling herself into the narrow path.

Just then, a bunch of aggressors stormed the main hall. Some were wearing gas masks and gloves. Others were holding a special kind of modern rifles. A few perched in the corners of the hall, while others spread out along the staircase leading to the upper floor. Sensing danger, the three men hastily exited the room, hopping up the stairs in great leaps. The horrified girl tried to follow them, but the guards ejected her back into her chamber.

Run Oliver. Run right now! she screeched thumping the door with both fists. Her mobile rang atop the nearby chair. Oh. That’s Mark! she exclaimed, raising the phone to her ear. Where are your men? They are attacking the whole place. Many, many... come right now, please. The shocked female's voice trembled with fear.

We know. Moments only. The police are on the way. And the army... the line abruptly went dead.

Emergency lights and flashers flickered all around the location. Anya dashed toward the window as the blaring siren reached her ears. Five patrol cars parked in front of the house blocking the wide street. The burglars started shooting at once. The officers took their vehicles as a shelter and fired back. As the control car stopped, a sergeant fell to the ground. A bullet hit his chest. He crawled on his hips, holding the bleeding wound with both palms. Two of his partners, who had been shooting, ran over pulling him behind one of the cars.

James is down. A bullet in the chest. One companion shouted into his shoulder microphone, Back up. Many opponents and heavy-armed.

He triggered his gun and shot without direction, firing in a desperate attempt to fend off the attackers. Across the street, another police fell down on the opposite sidewalk. Two of his colleagues were in a crucial situation. They couldn’t move, they just stared and purred and begged for help. Hurry up... the officer roared again, we can’t hold out much longer. We require a medical aid.

Army hammers and M-trucks emerged at the corner deploying soldiers on both sides of the street. Heavy armed armored vehicles, in spotted olive drab color, occupied the nearby yards. Black Hawk helicopters hovered over the area.

Oliver anxiously rubbed his hands together, clutching the laptop tightly against his side. With great care, he successfully extracted the tiny, transparent pentagon microchip from the screen. Unnoticed, he stashed it behind his ear. The scattered glass shattered his composure as dread washed over him, realizing that indefinite figures, wearing menacing masks, were invaded the attic. Seeking safety, he cautiously retreated to the furthest corner clutching the laptop under his arm.

Hand over the device. Place it on the table and depart, the mysterious intruder commanded with authority. I suspect the private Penta-Chip is within this computer, he declared, glancing towards his companions.

I won’t, the boy insisted. The combatant raised his palm directing it towards the lad dragging the notebook into his pulsive hand. Oliver tried to recapture it, but the panel sled away in fast and smooth motion. They have supernatural abilities. He uses Telekinetic Powers. I knew it. The adolescent muttered loudly.

The three men left without uttering a word. The lad struggled to open the door, but he couldn’t. They had locked it from the outside. He dashed in the direction of the bay of the loft, but blasts of shooting smashed the glass panes. Splinters burst against his face and chest. Tiny bleeding injuries drenched blood over all his T-shirt. He watched the red liquid staining his hands. His fingers stiffed like steel. His mind grew blank. All he could remember was his mother shrieking when they attacked them the first time. The sound of her voice screaming in his ear. I'll not lose you for this, Oliver. I will defend you with my body and soul. Escape, son. Run. Do you understand?

Once again, he reached for the door handle, yet found himself unable to grasp it. He gazed outside watching the loud burst of the explosions in the street. The wounded son was searching for a shelter when a small bomb rolled over the parquet wood floor. Right away, he flipped the metal desk with his leg taking it as an armor. Initially, dense white smoke engulfed the room, followed by a colossal burst of fiery chaos that launched the attic roof, and Oliver, into the backyard.  The teenager tried his best to escape the fire. He struggled in despair to cover himself behind the thick metallic sheet, but his back remained entirely exposed to the flames and all kinds of splinters. His legs trembled uncontrollably as he floated over the next lane. In front, the steel plate radiated releasing red-hot flare. But he couldn't escape. Blazes were pouring from all the sides around him. The fire was spreading all over the house. 

The intruders started to retreat as the army troops arrived. In no time, they became unseen and the official forces dominated the field. Nobody could tell how and where they had disappeared. The residents didn't seem to notice the attackers' arrival nor their departure. The unexpected outbreak of violence scandalized and stunned everyone.

An elder lady, wearing dense medical eyeglasses, was uncertain of masked men who lined up with their weapons in her backyard and then vanished like ghosts. The old woman was confused, too. She was shocked and frightened; even she didn't grasp the correct words to express the scene. The condition filled her mind with a sense of dread and fear and wondered if God had transferred her soul to a mysterious planet.

Anya crashed the panes of her room and tried to squeeze her body through the tight iron bars, but she couldn’t. Spreading her arm out of the fitted shafts, she squealed for help waving for the men, who gathered far away from the house. The soldiers held the people, driving them backward. A bulky smoke cloud masked the burnt building, enveloping the howling female. Her yelps moldered among the roars of the guns and fire rumbles. There was no way out.

Most of the neighbors departed their apartments. Army members guided them back away from danger. Most of them identified the unfortunate boy entrapped by fire landing behind the next path. The explosion shook the building. People ran out of their homes. They were all looking at one another. Some of them were screaming.

A little girl was in shock, crying silently.  Her tears dampened her glowing cheeks and the collar of her white blouse. The baby, who was trying to find her family sheltered herself behind a small tree in the driveway. A soldier squatted in front of the frightened child lifting her onto his trunk.  With his left hand, he protected her glossing blond hair from the dripping scorching sparkles. Where are your parents? he asked. She shrugged her shoulders twisting the lips. Never mind, we’ll find them soon. Maybe among the crowd there! he pointed with his head running away from the site. 

Oliver’s body clumped under the blazing slab, which shielded him against the dense, dropping gravels and fragments. The heavy rain splashed over the glowing steel emanating broiling vapor. The teenager was in shock. As the flames spread to cover the entire house, he squinted his eyes, and his pupils dilated, as if he were watching through smoked glass. Thick reddish black soot swathed his face and neck. He tried to call for help, but he could release no letter nor could he hear any sound. Only, he was able to feel the heavy falling rain for a few moments before he went out like a dimming light.  Loud explosions and machine guns bursts rebounded far from the nearby mountains. Smoke, fire, and trash flew everywhere. Flames covered him as bonfires were shooting from every item around.

A medical helicopter landed at the turn behind a fire truck. Two tall men in blue dark formal civil suits descended and ran towards the burning house. A soldier blocked their way."

Mark Miles. FBI officer. The first showed his official badge. My girlfriend there. She’s a crucial witness in this case. I must save her! he looked around and declared in a loud voice, I need a fireman. Help me, please.

A firefighter holding a water hose asked, Where is she?

Right there. At that window. The FBI detective pointed to Anya, who was swaying her hand behind the fortified frame.

Put on this protection helmet. Avoid the falling bodies. The serviceman handed him a yellow head shield and a mask. Both ran, lowering their trunks as a third trailed them with a cutting drill in his hand.

Let’s cool it. The saver slapped a water stream on the hot window and around.

Here Mark. Am here! the girl shouted.

I can see you, darling. I can see you. Stay away from fire, her boyfriend bellowed back.

Chop it, he ordered his pal. Blazing sparks bobbled as he was slitting the staves away. Working together, the men succeeded in forming a gap wide enough for the blocked female to cram herself through.

The girl's eyes were wide open, and her lower jaw hung down. She was looking around with meaningless glances, trying to figure out where she was. The thin clothing stuck to her white body. Her face was pale; her skin was covered in murky sweat. A large red bruise covered the right cheek, and a large purple stain with tiny scratches discolored her bare shoulder. 

Fires had reached the roof now and the flares engulfed the whole attic. In the corner, a small fire raged in the kitchen. Flames were licking at the wall and it began burning with great intensity.

Oliver is in the attic. Please help him, she verbalized, exhausted.

There is no roof, Anya! The bang has blown it out into the backyard. He informed the young woman, looking at the firefighter, We need medical help. Let’s search there. He grabbed her hand and ran along the driveway bending their backs to avoid the blazes. The fireman quivered his fist, swaying it calling two of the first-aiders who came hurtling.

Follow the officer and the girl. He recommended. There’s an injured boy behind the house.

The four retreated a few steps astonished by the wreckage heaped in the back garden avoiding the sultry heat. A Sikorsky Firehawk helicopter poured its bucket over the location at that moment. Thick haze and minute ashes saturated the space.

Oliver tried to move, but it was no use. With no other choice, all he could do was lay there waiting for help, writhing in agony as his flesh burned and bled. When the smoke started to clear, the sheet was still covering his eyes. The pain was unbearable and the heat was suffocating. 

Firefighters worked quickly to remove heaps of debris in order to reach the burned boy. Pieces of wood, clothing, and even small objects strewed everywhere, making it hard for the crews to get a good view of the victim. Fast, they dispatched search teams through the thick smoke and heat, but it was unclear if they would find him alive.

Long minutes elapsed before they reached the half-buried body. The boy could not move even a toe. He was completely unaware. A first responder touched his neck at once raising his voice, He is still alive, but the pulse is feeble.

The medical helpers immediately assessed the situation. They determined that the boy needed urgent intense medical attention. They carefully placed him onto the backboard and instructed Mark to follow them to the nearest hospital.

Oliver’s sister tailed the holders of her injured brother to the door of the helicopter. Is there a room for me? I want to stay with my brother! she insisted.

No Ma’am. You can follow us in a car. Casper General Hospital. You’ll find him there. An aider told her.

Come Anya. I’ll take you there. It’s a short distance. Mark said, You need medical attention too.

On their way to the hospital, Anya and her friend noticed a long line of vehicles that moved sluggishly because of a traffic jam. Police checkpoints blocked the road. Despite their best efforts to avoid the jammed streets, however, it seemed like they wouldn’t make any significant progress, as they had to stop frequently due to the trapped stream of cars and other obstacles in their way.

It seems they are evacuating the whole city. The officer estimated.

You have promised to protect us, Mark. Why didn’t you? Anya blamed him.

The authorities didn’t sponsor my request. They underestimated the situation and considered it a minor danger. He justified, Now this disregarding converted into a catastrophe.

I’ve informed you many times that Oliver is receiving mysterious text messages on his mobile. The young woman clarified in a sharp accent. They have warned him to leave home and to run away. I’ve read them, but I did not believe that then.

Also, they couldn’t consider them true. Since the investigators couldn’t find the source or any replication of the communication data. The FBI officer interpreted. They believed the boy has a mental disorder and he had invented them.

Oliver is a genius boy. He has great intelligence and rare natural abilities and skills. Especially in mathematics and science. He can decode any system in minutes. The sister insisted before she added, Please hurry! I want to be near him.

Soon. I know a quick road takes us there within short time. He assured.

The detective stopped the car, turned down a narrow dark backstreet, and faded behind a dense row of Hedge Maple trees.

Shadows and Pains

An ambulance helicopter landed on the adjacent helipad. The emergency team rolled the wheeled medical stretcher inside the intensive treatment unit. The room was all white with square, high-tech restorative apparatuses, gadgets, and metal beds. A doctor in a white coat, supported by many nurses, started handling Oliver’s skin with gentle caresses.

A few minutes later, another checkup team rushed him into surgery in a try to save his life. The damage was so serious and his state was critical. They inserted a tube into his throat so that he could receive oxygen and essential supplements intravenously. Although he lost consciousness, his feeble pulse kept beating.  He was still breathing.

Oliver opened his eyes for a second as a voice said: We’re sorry for what happened to you, my dear. We are working to heal you. You are not going anywhere. Please do not worry. Everything will be fine. Don't be afraid.

All, with Oliver, vanished behind a wide door with a red sign glowing with the words Surgical Suite. Deep silence stretched all over the waiting passage. An eerie quiet descended, blanketing everything in an unnatural calm, as if the clock had ticked its last tock. The room was empty and calm. There were no sounds of life or any vital movement. It appeared as a dreary image of nowhere in a lost space. It was after midnight and nobody was there.

Anya sprang out of the car and dashed into the emergency entrance. Mark asked her to wait for him, but she ignored his requests. As the impatient sister penetrated the lounge, she cried, Where’s Oliver? What has happened to my brother? Please, let me see him! A nurse requested her to calm down, but her heart continued pounding and her mind racing with worry.

She questioned the nurse again with more constancy.

He has been in the surgery since he arrived. The emergency doctor told her.

I want to see him, please. The worried sister insisted.

You can’t till they move him to the ICU. But you can wait in front of the operations door. The physician indicated her the way.

She ran down the hallway, Mark trailing her closely. The place looked deserted and showed no activity of any kind nor the existence of one human. The quietness prevailed, affecting the motion and the eagerness of both. Their steps turned into smooth drifting, and their voices into total muteness. Together, they sat on one of the wood benches distributed along the path. Mark hugged her to his chest,