Jaxx couldn’t hear a thing. “What?”
The pilot raised his eyebrows at Slade who had already taken a seat near the bulkhead and was strapping in. Slade patted the seat next to him and pointed to a helmet on the rail.
Jaxx sat, and placed the helmet on his head. The ear-muff like padding fit snugly around his ears, drowning out most sound. The roar of the helicopter instantly faded. He had a brief flash of the joy stick in his hand, the chopper banking left, the glorious patchwork of fields, towns, and mountains below. Odd. He’d never been inside a chopper before, let alone flown one.
Slade pushed his microphone close to his mouth. “Strap in, Jaxx. Once we’re up in the air, it feels like a dishwasher in here.”
“A dishwasher?” questioned Jaxx.
Slade knocked on the side of his helmet. “Listen, I don’t like echoes. You heard me the first time. Yes, a dishwasher.”
“You gentlemen ready?”
Slade glanced at the pilot and gave a thumbs up. “Fox, take us up.”
Fox had a hardened look; a look Jaxx had seen on countless combat-weary faces over the years. Like the man killed one too many men and crushed part of his soul in the process.
Fox gave a nod and pulled up on the collective lever. The helicopter lifted in the air.
Jaxx buckled in his last restraining belt. “This isn’t a joke, is it?”
“A joke? What the hell makes you think this is a joke?” Slade stared at Jaxx for a few moments, lips tight.
“I—”
“The United States military is no joke. It’s not every day we’ll fly in over damn pyramids to pick up one of you sons of bitches.”
The terrain widened and the pyramids below became smaller.
“Where are we going and why…?”
“Grenada in the Caribbean.” Slade narrowed his eyes. “We need information about something we’ve found. You’ll be doing our country a great service by helping us.”
It almost felt like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Jaxx rubbed his chest. “Me? I’m not exactly filled with information that’s accepted in many circles.”
“Precisely.”
“Precisely?”
Slade closed his eyes. “Get some rest. We have a long trip. Many stops. And, again, I don’t like echoes. If you keep your mouth shut and follow our instructions, you’ll see the greatest discovery mankind has ever seen.”
2 May 22ndSAINT GEORGE, GRENADA
Jaxx’s backpack was strapped across his shoulder, his clothes wrinkled, and he reeked of helicopter. His boots still caked in dirt, his white socks stained in brown, perspiration welled from his skin. It was hot and humid on Grenada. He didn’t know the temperature and didn’t want to.
He followed Slade up a windy cobblestone path and into a courtyard. It was run down. For years, hurricanes chipped at the buildings and surrounding walls. The lack of care astounded him. The lack of tourists, understandable. The air of foreboding, overwhelming.
In the corner stood a basketball hoop, old and worn out. A half-broken chain attached to the rim acted as the net and the backboard was rotting away.
Slade halted in the middle of the courtyard. He folded his arms across his chest. “You play much?”
Jaxx rubbed his chin, confused. Why would a Colonel be asking him about basketball? “I played in college. I was okay.”
Slade titled his head. “You like Shaquille O’Neal?”
“I guess, why?”
“Something I’d like to name my ship.” He popped a piece of gum in his mouth and winked. “Space Shaq.”
A ship? Kaden kept his mouth shut. He figured it wiser to do so. Perhaps this great discovery the colonel boasted about was somewhere on or in the fort.
Slade gestured for Kaden to follow him. He took out some jangling keys as they approached a door, which was missing a door handle and a lock. So, why the keys?
Slade surveyed the courtyard, then studied his watch for a couple of seconds. He pressed on the watch’s face several times. “Good. We’re alone.” He gave a quick kick to the bottom of the door. It popped out and fell a few inches before Slade caught it and set it to the side. A metallic door stood behind it, with several locks attached. “Welcome to Fort George, home to Underfoot Black. We don’t come up surface-side much. We’re down below, bottled up like fenced cattle.”
“Ah.” Jaxx had no clue what Slade referred to.
After a few clanks and clicks, Slade pushed the metallic door open.
“Jaxx, put the first door back in place.” Slade observed Jaxx’s confusion, then rolled his eyes. “It’s leaning up against the entryway behind you. Hurry up.”
This Slade guy lacked manners. Still he was military, which meant he knew how to handle the gun he had at his hip, but more importantly, he’d promised to show Jaxx something that would change the face of history. Jaxx twisted around, grabbed the door, lined it up and secured it as best he could. The entryway darkened except for a small slit of light that came through the bottom of the makeshift door.
A ding sounded and a door slid open. Light splashed against the walls.
Jaxx jerked back. “An elevator?”
Slade stepped inside. “Shut the metallic door behind you. When you do, the doors will automatically lock. And pick your mouth back up. Yes, it’s an elevator. You can drop your chin when you see what I’m about to show you below.”
Slade leaned against the back of the elevator waiting for Jaxx to finish his quick assignment. When he did, Jaxx stepped inside.
“Welcome to Fort George, originally established by the French in the early 1700’s. Beneath the fort we have built a facility. ‘We’ being the Global Safety Administration, or GSA. The facility goes by the moniker, Underfoot Black. We chose Fort George, because it's situated close enough to the United States border for easy access to adequate supplies, expert personnel, and anything else needed at a quick click, but also far enough away as not to be too suspicious. Only those with the highest security clearance ever set
