Physical therapy sucks! It hurts. I’m back in bed now, with my spasms under control enough to keep writing to you, dear reader. One day soon, I’ll probably give you the details of my injuries, but I really don’t want to think about them right now any more than I have to. Writing to you will help keep my mind off the pain. Yes, they give me painkillers in this place, but they don’t block all of it. I’m also writing this time to keep myself awake until dinner gets here. I don’t want to miss dinner because I passed out from pain and exhaustion. Been there, done that. At least the food is good in this place, something to look forward to.
Last time, I told you about my encounter with Mr. X that fateful day and the card he left with me. It wasn’t long, maybe a couple of days later, during the weekend, when I called the number. I wanted to ask more questions.
To my surprise, Mr. X answered himself immediately after the first ring. I had expected to get some voicemail or an operator, but no, I got the man himself.
“Good day, Dr. Leighton!” I could hear that wonderful smile of his in his voice. If he wasn’t so creepy, he could do toothpaste commercials. He paused waiting for me to speak.
“I have a few questions about our conversation in my office this past week.”
“Excellent! I have the perfect way to answer all your questions. I believe you have vacation time for the next two weeks and won’t need to go into work. You had accumulated so much that according to your contract it was a use-it-or-lose-it situation?”
“Yes, but how did you know about…”
He cut me off. “I did say I have a way to answer all of your questions, including that one. We are prepared to offer you a one-time job for these next two weeks, a job that will pay you $50,000, with no further commitments after the two weeks. If working for us really isn’t something you want to do after finding out what it’s really like, you’ll be able to slide right back into the life you have now, and $50,000 richer. What do you say?”
“I’d say yes. If I don’t accept this now, I’ll wonder for the rest of my life what this was.”
“Of course you would. You’re that type of person.” Mr. X sounded pleased and impressed.
The rest of the weekend flew by. I caught up on some grades and generally got my affairs in order so that no job-work from the college would follow me into the two weeks vacation. I had originally planned for it to be a “staycation” and to do the workload at a more relaxed pace with smooth jazz on in the background and a glass of wine at my side on the desk, a bit at a time over several days, but instead I plugged away with hard rock synthwave and caffeine pushing me through it all in one day. I double checked my Rover.com arrangements for someone to check on Lucy, my cat, while I was away. All seemed ready for me to go.
Monday morning came. I took the St. Louis Metrolink downtown early. I walked to the corner of North Taylor Avenue and Pershing Avenue in the Central West End. The coffee shop there was rebranding…again. They had finished remodeling from their previous incarnation and were once again open. I grabbed a chai latte and sipped there on the corner while I looked out for my ride. Though there’s a bus stop at that corner, that’s not what I was there for. I was waiting for a dark tan Ford Expedition to come by with one of my fellow “agents of Control” (whatever that meant). I would be picked up and we’d trek across Missouri to Kansas City to pick up more of the team.
The drink had just had a chance to finally drink without it burning my tongue when the Expedition showed up, driven by a short, cute blonde twenty-something with wavy hair a little past her shoulders and wire frame glasses with perfectly round lenses. There was enough of a pause in the traffic for her to stop for me without getting honked at by impatient people. The passenger window came down and she greeted me.
“Throw your stuff in the back and let’s go.”
The back hatch of the vehicle slowly started to rise. I placed my stuff in the back. It didn’t look too crowded back there. I knew we’d be picking up a total of four more people along the way to our destination, which was somewhere out in Arizona. I was the first person picked up after the driver started the journey, so it was just my stuff and her stuff until Kansas City.
With my stuff situated in the back, I came around front to let myself in the front next to the driver.
“Hi, I’m Rachelle,” she said as she pulled away from the curb and headed for the Interstate.
“I’m Carl. Nice to meet you. How long have you been working with Control?”
“Four years. I was recruited when I was twenty.”
“Right out of college?’ I asked.
“During college actually. Once I learned what they do, I never looked back. The degree didn’t mean that much to me anymore after that.”
“It’s that exciting, huh?”
“Well….” Rachelle paused for a moment as if thinking of her answer.
Finally, she continued. “Why don’t you watch the mission briefing video and then you tell me. It’s on my laptop. You should be able to reach it there on the seat behind you.”
I looked back there. Sure enough, there was a laptop case.
I obliged. Once I had Rachelle’s laptop in front of me and it was booting up, she said, “Use the headset. I’ve already seen the briefing several times.”
I pulled the headset out of the case and plugged it into the machine. The computer had finished booting to a standard Windows login screen. Rachelle told me to login as Guest, which I did. Next there was a desktop screen with a video icon right in the middle labeled “Dust Bowl Arizona”. The laptop was a nice touch screen one. There was no stupid fingerpad. I hate those. I tapped the “Dust Bowl Arizona” icon and thought that I was ready for anything. Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. I was determined to find out.
I knew it would happen eventually. Today, the main doctor who sees me informed me that I am deemed well enough to be debriefed about what happened in Dust Bowl. I have an appointment tomorrow morning after breakfast to talk about my experiences there. I won’t be walking to the appointment myself, of course. I’ll be wheelchaired in.I’m actually surprised this hasn’t happened a lot sooner. I’ve been conscious and well enough to answer questions for weeks. I mentioned that to the doctor when he was here in the room. He said that they also wanted me to be in a good state of mental and emotional recovery, too, for the debriefing. I can appreciate that.In the meantime, I’ll be debriefing you some more dear reader, before I slip off to sleep tonight. Last time, I was in the Ford Expedition with Rachelle and was just opening the Dust Bowl, Arizona mission briefing video.The video started with a map of Arizona zooming in on a region northwest of Phoenix, and well off any interstate or highw
I have a confession to make. I skipped making an entry here yesterday. You're probably reading this in its completed form, so you'd never know I skipped a day, but I'm telling you because I want you, whoever you are, to know how much I appreciate you reading this. Writing this record is really helping me process what's happened to my life since I became an Agent of Control (if I even still have that status. It's not exactly clear at this point what's to become of me once I'm all healed up as much as I'm going to get healed up, especially after yesterday.)I have faith that Rachelle’s pet AI will get this file in front of a lot of eyeballs, but I have no idea whether you're taking me seriously or just thinking that you're reading a piece of fiction. Either way, it helps me a lot to know that you're reading this. It's a much nicer way to work things out than what happened yesterday after breakfast.My first debriefing session since I came to be here at the facility was intense. Although
Today, I had a different debriefing interviewer, a much more normal seeming person. Although he wasn’t a Mr. Rodgers level of friendliness, he was calm, professional, and not rude, a huge improvement over yesterday’s guy. But, I'm sure you're more interested in reading about the road trip to Arizona than about me right now as a guy recovering in a hospital room, so here goes.When Rachelle returned from the restroom, she acted like nothing weird had happened, as if a physics-defyingly long electrical cord had not emerged from and then disappeared back into her cargo pants, as if we had always planned to get our meals to go. She smiled a lot, cracked jokes, and seemed in good humor like before, but didn't offer any kind of explanation for the odd occurrence or even acknowledge it.I took my cue from her and conversed back with her normally. Once at the vehicle, I got into the driver's seat and she got in the back for her nap as she had planned. I set my food container on the front pass
I was very surprised today to be visited by Mr. X. This isn’t the sort of hospital where one gets visitors. I’m sure the general public doesn’t even know this place exists. I’ve even wondered, out of paranoia, if the outside world out there even knows I’m alive.Mr. X came by beaming his characteristic unusual-looking smile. I found myself so happy for his company that it didn’t even creep me out like it did before. He was bubbly and effusive. He opened my curtains in the room for the first time in my memory to get sunlight for the small, tastefully-sized vase of flowers he brought me to cheer up my room. There was a small parking lot outside with ordinary-looking cars, as if this was a small hospital or nursing home anywhere in America. So, I was above ground. I made a mental note to get closer to the window as soon as I could to see what state the license plates of those cars were from.Mr. X offered enough information, worked and woven into the one-sided conversation that he had wi
I received a package today from Mr. X. Inside was a phone, a nice one. Attached to the phone was a Post-It Note that read “Use Me. Text HELLO to 555-4545. I did, of course. There’s been no response yet. It’s been about twenty minutes. I’m going to start my writing to you for today and I’ll keep an eye on this phone. It was about five hours from Hays, Kansas to Denver. It would be about eleven hours from Denver to Flagstaff. I awoke from my slumber after sunrise with the vehicle filled with daylight to the sound of my colleagues discussing various eateries we were passing to select one to stop at for breakfast. I felt somewhat refreshed. At some point as the miles had passed in the darkness, my mind had calmed down enough to have actually restfully deep sleep mentally, although physically I was stiff and sore from the seat of a Ford Expedition not being a proper bed. The food question was settled by the sighting of a billboard advertisement for Waffle House. This lifted everyone’s sp
Last night, while I was sleeping, the phone from Mr. X beeped softly. I had it under my pillow so as it beeped, it gently pulled me out of a dream. The paranoia that I have learned as an Agent of Control prompted my choice of keeping it under my pillow. I didn’t want the phone to disappear while I was sleeping and then have to put up with the nice, polite hospital staff around here lying through their teeth at me saying sweetly things like “I’m so sorry your phone was misplaced, Dr. Leighton. Everyone will keep an eye out for it.” I would have to smile and pretend to be polite back and thank them for looking, all the while thinking to myself misplaced, my ass. Is such paranoia justified when one works for Control? Sometimes. In this case, the answer turned out to be yes.My room’s door was closed. As I’ve mentioned before, this isn’t a regular, public hospital with many floors and lots of activity. Even with my door open, there aren’t any noises drifting in from the hallway. At night,
I’m writing entries more frequently now because I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen with my extraction, when and how it’s going to go down, or if I’ll be able to continue these entries to you afterwards. My commitment to getting the word out there as to what’s going on with Control still stands, and if you’ve stayed with me this far, then I feel like you deserve me to either complete this or get as close as I can. So I promise not to slack from here on out, dear reader.I wasn’t sure what I had expected upon meeting a real mage for the first time as we picked up Jonie in Denver. What I came to quickly realize was that we all have probably met mages in our lives and not known it. They look just like anybody else.As we drove into Denver, we turned off the Interstate into the Capitol Hill area. Capitol Hill is known for its eclectic and artistic vibe. It's a historic neighborhood with a mix of Victorian homes, bohemian shops, and diverse residents. The area's alternative culture
With Rachelle in the back of the Expedition not having her own exit door, one of us men in the middle would have to move to let her out. I was on the side away from the Interstate traffic, so I got out and tilted my seat forward so our dripping wet companion could maneuver herself out of the vehicle. I could see voluminous amounts of suds and foam were still emerging from her pants as she climbed out. She left a trail as she dashed to the back of the vehicle to open the hatch door back there and get a pair of dry pants out of her luggage.I called out to her once a passing semi-truck whizzed past so that I thought she could hear me again, “I’ll get back in and Mont and I won’t look while you change.”“Thanks,” I heard her call back as she pulled out new pants.Shielding herself from the view of Interstate travelers as best she could, using a Ford Expedition for cover, our computer IT specialist changed into a dry version of the same clothes she’d had on before. Muffled through the win
Mr. X was pleasantly surprised that I was so healed up and mobile. I got myself onto the gurney without assistance. “Wonderful, Dr. Leighton! I had no idea you were so well-along on your recovery. That will help us immensely as we escape.” Mr. X held up one of the gurney’s patient immobilization straps thoughtfully, then looked at me. “I completely understand your reluctance to use these, even for appearances sake. I am inclined to agree. Should we need to move quickly, abandoning our ruse that I am taking you somewhere as a patient, there won’t be time to unstrap you. I have another idea to make our appearance in the hallway look suitably deceptive.” Instead of strapping me to the gurney, Mr. X, whom I had always thought of as a Man in Black, though in his hospital orderly disguise he certainly wasn’t wearing black, draped a sheet over me, head to toe. “Now, Dr. Leighton, you will appear dead. Dead bodies on gurneys are covered in sheets like this and there’s no need to strap in t
Well, dear reader, it’s been awhile since I added to these files, but something came up that interrupted the flow of this writing, my extraction from the hospital. I’m writing to you now from a different location which I shall not divulge. However, I’m keeping my commitment to you to complete the story of what happened in Dust Bowl as long as I’m around to keep writing it for you. I left off my last entry with our team in Alice’s basement. Alice had been taken by the La Paz County Sheriff’s Office. We were spending the night in her basement with the house surrounded by law enforcement with canines. Liz had used tech equipment from Spitfire’s pocket dimension to contact Control and request extraction. The extraction was denied. I’ll get back to that, picking up from there, soon. First, however, I’d like to explain why I’ve taken so long to write again and what happened with my extraction from the hospital. Not too many days after Spitfire had warned me on the phone given to me by Mr.
Alice didn’t return, at all. Eventually, after thirty very tense minutes according to my watch, Liz’s voice in the dark said, “They must have arrested her. Let’s get out of here. Mont, push the fridge out.” Cautiously, we emerged from our hiding place. The basement light bulbs, dangling from the ceiling, had been left on. The basement looked as we had left it. “I’ll scout upstairs,” Mont said. He pulled his gun. “We’re dealing with a duly authorized sheriff’s office,” Liz reminded him. “Put that away. Don’t go waving a gun around law enforcement if you don’t want to get shot.” Mont nodded with a slightly sheepish expression as he put his firearm back in its holster and covered it up. Liz was right. Whatever they were involved in, they were the sheriff’s office, a normal part of law enforcement and society. We were Control. And what was Control? Was it a secret part of the government? Was it a private entity? Was it even American? Was it international in scope? I wondered why I’d n
I saw there, on the faces of my field team members, one by one, a revelation of what Liz had meant that their particular “personal dirts” would include monsters. Mont, Mitch, and Rachelle each looked somber, but Jonie looked as if she was about to lose her cool. “This Dirt curse can’t possibly bring back Ashley to haunt me.” She sounded as if she were a child, scared of the dark, trying to calm herself by simply affirming over and over “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not afraid of the dark.” And, like such a child, she repeated the affirmation a few times until Rachelle came over to the couch, knelt down in front of her, and took her hand comfortingly. “This Dirt curse can’t possibly bring back Ashley to haunt me. This Dirt curse can’t possibly bring back Ashley to haunt me.” “I don’t know,” Rachelle cooed soothingly, “but whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I promise.” Before Jonie could respond, there was a booming knock on the upstairs front door, so resounding that we c
“What do–”, Liz began but Alice cut her off. “Please,” the Dust Bowl native said, “not here. We'll be safer at my place. Voices carry.” So, we walked in silence across the field where something otherworldly had hovered over us before we met this mysterious Alice lady. Mont brought up the rear. I could tell from the way he walked that his hand was ready to pull his gun from its hidden holster if that turned out to be something necessary. Mitch and Jonie walked in front of Mont. Mitch’s eyes were wide open scanning both the sky and the horizon, no doubt looking to see if his Sight showed him something. In contrast, as I saw her face in the moonlight, Jonie’s eyes were nearly closed as she walked. A true mage, she was reaching out with other arcane senses than Mitch possessed. Liz and Rachelle walked behind Alice, Rachelle looking down at her feet, probably concerned, as I was, about stepping into an ankle-twisting hole in the dark. Liz’s face looked as if she were workin
Behind our hotel was a tall wooden fence, about ten feet high. This would have kept folks from casually strolling into the field back there. Upon investigation, we discovered a few loose wooden planks in the fence that were not actually nailed in place. They were propped in place to look from a distance like they were attached normally, but they were not. Someone had obviously moved them on occasion to access the field behind the hotel.Wearing our hiking boots so that our feet would not encounter anything sharp on the field after dark, we entered the field ourselves and began looking for a good spot to observe a potential UFO light show. When I call the area a field, we have to remember that we’re talking about the Arizona desert. A field here isn’t like some farmer’s field in Iowa. It was an open field, sure, but no farmer would have wanted to plant crops there. It had definite boundaries like a field, though. Behind us was the hotel. To our left, quite a ways off, was a road. Ahead
Around noon that Thursday, before the Dirt rolled in, I found myself headed to Parker, the county seat of La Paz county, in the Ford Expedition with Mont, Rachelle, and Spitfire. Our mission was to visit library archives of newspapers and other sources of records for La Paz county. Until the 1970s, Dust Bowl had had its own newspaper. As a precaution, we weren’t all leaving Dust Bowl in case it might become more difficult to return for some reason, such as if the roads back into Dust Bowl became closed, for example. Liz had wanted Jonie and Mitch to stay there since their particular talents made them more useful onsite there in Dust Bowl, such as when Mitch had seen the peculiar aura emanating from the statue of Lt. Sees-Like-A-Hawk. So, it was left to us “muggles” as Rachelle described us, who weren’t mages and who didn’t have the Sight, to slog through old records.Once we got into Parker, we grabbed some burritos from a Taco Bell drive-thru and headed for the county library. We fin
Liz directed a comment to the man who was trying to be chatty. “Pardon me, sir, but you don’t seem local. Are you a tourist like us?”He smiled at her. “Well, I’m not local yet but I’m working on it. I’m a pastor who’s come to see about reviving the old church in this town.”You could have heard a pin drop when he said that. There wasn’t even the sound of someone’s silverware scraping a plate or scooping up a bit of omelet.“My friends and I noticed the burned one when we got to town, but we didn’t see any others.”“There aren’t any, but God called me here to change that.”The waitress came by to refill the pastor’s coffee. She added her two cents to the conversation. “It’s not that there aren’t any Christians around here, Pastor, but no one’s had the heart to have an organized church since the old one burned down. Most of us just follow Jesus in our own way without a church. Maybe your ministry is needed in another town.”“I’ve been praying a lot about it,” he replied “I’ll keep seek
It was my turn to drive as Field Team 42’s Ford Expedition rolled into Dust Bowl, Arizona. According to the dashboard readout, it was 101° outside. I was thankful to be born into a time period with air conditioning technology. It was about an hour before sunset on Wednesday night. The Dirt was due to blow in at midnight on Sunday night. There were no ROAD CLOSED signs out yet. The hotels we passed all had VACANCY signs. Apparently, it was a few days before the town would begin turning away strangers. Things were still normal, whatever normal was in this place for fifty-one weeks a year without the Dirt blowing in. We were greeted at the city limits by a huge billboard capitalizing on the town’s UFO reputation featuring a scene in which a Gray alien with an exaggeratedly large head smiled down at a huge plate of pancakes, urging us to eat at a local establishment.Liz instructed me to drive all around the town once so we could scope out the place. She said that doing that once wouldn’t