Enough. Camila turned off the television. She'd just spent the last hour ferreting out the latest reports about the president, while her roommate, Sally Powers, competed for her attention.
"Don't worry about those polls, Camila. It doesn't matter what Dustin said about aliens. As long as no aliens show up, we're in good shape."
Powers, the old pro, helped stabilize her. In the past couple of weeks, she'd provided Camila with a ton of insight into the inner workings of the press corps. She'd already assured her several times that the attention on the silly alien comments just showed how well the country was being run. The media didn't have any serious problems to tackle.
But neither Powers nor any reporters knew about the real threat, the one that Calloway had told her about. She found herself in an awkward, frustrating position. She couldn't say anything about it, not to Powers, and especially not to the media. At least, not until the president acknowledged the true source of the aliens to her, to his advisors, and to his cabinet. Even then, there would still be a question about how much, if anything, should be revealed to the public about the remote viewing threat.
Meanwhile, the news programs were filled with soft pieces about alien abductees who sympathized with the president and ufologists who made their analysis of what was known about the president's encounter. Very little of substance was leaking out the front gate. In fact, the only leak had been the president's own, and its implications of the contradictory comments were still being discussed.
"I'm going for a little walk. I'll be back in a few minutes. Do you want to join me?"
Please say no. She wanted to be alone for a while.
"No thanks. I'm going to make a couple of telephone calls. Is that all right?"
She smiled. "Fine. See you in a while."
Camila closed the door. She stepped out and let the cool evening air wash over her. She walked to the corner of the building, then across the lawn and past the stables. The sun had just dropped below the trees, but there would be another half hour of light. She kept going and found the trail at the edge of the forest.
Ever since she'd seen Dustin and Kyle Leslie disappearing into the trees on horseback, she'd promised herself she'd take a walk along the trail before she left. Dustin had wanted the media allowed inside for a photo-op, but she'd convinced him it was a bad idea. She'd pictured the evening news opening with the president on horseback and reporters shouting out questions about aliens. It would look ridiculous and unpresidential. Instead, she'd gotten Gerry Davis, the White House photographer, to shoot it and distribute the photos.
She paused near the head of the trail. A rich smell of moist earth and decaying vegetation filled her nostrils. What if there were bears out here? She looked back, then resolutely strode forward. No, she told herself, she wasn't going to be afraid of nature. The chances of encountering anything larger than a squirrel were slim.
She needed this time for herself, away from the other staff members and away from the reporters, who camped day and night outside the gate. The ranch house, all 15,000 square feet of it, disappeared behind her and now she found herself in a majestic forest of tall pines. She continued on, accompanied by a hypnotic chorus of frogs, her feet sinking in the bed of soft brown pine needles with each step. The forest canopy blocked out the fading light, creating an eerie, shadowy world below. Each step seemed to take her deeper into a mythical world of unknown creatures, real and imagined, a world that had vanished from her life long ago.
She walked on and thought back to the summer when she was fourteen. She'd spent a couple of weeks with a cousin who lived on the edge of a state forest in northern Colorado and they'd slept in a tent in the backyard. Late at night, when everyone else had fallen asleep, she and Maya would get up and walk in the forest. At first, she'd been terrified. The forest at night was alive with shadows and unseen creatures. Each night they had gone a little farther before running back to their tent, laughing and imagining they were being chased by grizzly bears or other undefined beasts.
Camila recalled what had drawn them into the forest in the first place, something she'd forgotten all about. Maya had told her about the fairy lights that she had seen on summer nights. Then one night they'd seen them, a swirling glow of light that literally lit up the forest. The fairy light, of course, had a logical explanation. On closer inspections, the moving specks of light turned out to be swarms of mating lightning bugs.
Camila suddenly felt as though she were being watched and wished Maya were with her now. A silly thought. She hadn't seen the woman since college days. She'd married and moved to Oklahoma. But the boldness and curiosity of those two teenaged girls steeled her nerves.
Keep going. A little farther.
She imagined that at the next turn a fallen tree would block the trail and that would mark the end of her hike. But nothing impeded her, and she continued farther and farther into the forest.
She stopped. Something had changed. At first, she couldn't pinpoint it. Then she realized she no longer heard the frogs. Time to go back. God, she must've walked nearly a mile along the winding trail. Then she noticed an opening just ahead where the forest gave way to a field. Her legs carried her forward and she felt the density and darkness of the tall, huddled trees lift away as she entered a grassy clearing.
The sun had disappeared behind the mountains. Dusk settled across the landscape. She inhaled the fragrant air. She would like to come here at midday, maybe for a picnic, she thought. Maybe with Calloway. Jesus, what a thought. What was wrong with her? Calloway was merely an echo from the past, her old life. Still, there was something appealing to that life, at least the early part of it before it had turned sour like a carton of milk ignored in back of the refrigerator. She had to admit that in spite of the frenzy and swirl of activities around her day after day, she was lonely. A long-term relationship sounded appealing right now. But with Calloway again? Face it, she told herself. She had traveled a million miles since the breakup. Miles that she would never retrace.
She stopped, looked around. Again, she felt as if she weren't alone. Silly thought, she told herself. She walked on. But the oppressive sense of being watched intensified. She looked slowly around her again, turning in a circle. She felt the hair on her arms standing on end as gooseflesh erupted. Then she raised her gaze, inch by inch, until she saw it. A bright, oval light moved quietly above the forest on the far side of the clearing.
It moved closer and became distinct in shape, a metallic disk-like object that glimmered with a burnt reddish hue in the last rays of sunlight. It hovered above the field, three or four hundred feet overhead. She noticed its grid-like underside. No sound emanated from the vessel. Wasn't that what the alien abductees said about their captor's crafts? She remembered hearing something to that effect during the last couple of days. It must be a joke, an experimental vessel, someone capitalizing on the president's problems. Certainly it wasn't remote viewers. She was wide-awake, not like the president in his bed. No way could they create anything this real.
Of course, there was one other alternative, that Calloway had been wrong about the remote viewers, that it was the real thing, that the craft contained aliens, the very same creatures that had contacted the president. Maybe they were aware of her and had followed her here. Calm down, she told herself. Don't let your imagination run wild. Stay with the rational, the logical, the most likely. It was just a silly hoax, she told herself. What was she afraid of—the boogie man from outer space? Whoever was up there most likely didn't know she was down here.
Yet, in spite of her efforts to calm herself, she felt her body shaking. She wanted to turn and run, but she was too frightened. She couldn't move. Finally, she forced herself to back away toward the forest. One step back, then another and another. She kept her gaze on the craft. She couldn't rid herself of the idea that there were aliens inside and they were watching her.
As soon as she reached the trees, she would dash for it. She would set a new world record for the mile. Ten more yards. Almost there. She started to turn toward the trail when a thin beam of blue light penetrated the dusk and struck her in the forehead. Instantaneously, she saw herself from a distance connected to the ship by the thread of light. She felt pressure against her forehead, throbbing, but not painful, just uncomfortable. Her heart pounded. She couldn't run, couldn't move. Then it all faded.
She felt the damp grass and pushed herself up. She looked around confused for a moment, then recalled the walk and the incident. She gazed up and spotted a moving dot of light like a distant airplane. It shrank and disappeared.
She touched her forehead, recalling the beam of light. She stood up, brushed herself off. The time. Still dusk. . . or was it dawn? She glanced at her watch. Seven-twenty-two P.M., she told herself. Evening. She tried to recall when she'd left the room. Just after the six o'clock news. That seemed about right.
She moved toward the trees. Dim, shadowy. She didn't want to go in there. She wasn't even sure of the direction back to the compound. Then she saw the trail and hurried ahead. She started to trot, anxious to get back to the room, but soon slowed to a fast walk.
Had others seen the object in the sky? Should she report it right away? Better to remain quiet, she thought, at least for a while, and see what happened. Besides, what would she report, that she'd seen a UFO and it had beamed a light at her? No, definitely not. She wasn't going to exasperate the situation.
Yet, she should talk to someone about it. Maybe Waters. He would want to control it. Keep it under wraps. He might even send her away on an assignment or an unwanted vacation. She saw lights from the stable. Closer now. Maybe she could confide in Powers. But Sally didn't want any real aliens around. She wished Powers had gone with her on the walk. Then she would understand.
She reached the room, tried the door. It opened. A single light burned between the two beds. No sign of Powers. Maybe she'd gone to alert the Secret Service about her disappearance. If that was the case, then she should report what happened. Maybe others had reported it already. She moved into the room and saw the note on her bed.
Camila—Celebrity sighting at the cocktail party. Bruce Willis is here! You coming?
She recalled that Kyle Leslie was hosting a cocktail party on the president's last night. No thanks. She didn't feel like mingling or drinking or eating. She felt empty, confused, tired. She sat down on the bed and started laughing. No one missed her. She could've gone to the moon and back and no one would've known.
She felt a faint tingling. Something passed through her like a warm breeze.
In the near future, people will travel to the moon, to other planets, and elsewhere. But not in spaceships. They will project a nonphysical part of themselves to their destination.
Where did that come from? She felt a wave of panic. Someone was inside her head.
In the future, we will connect with the president through you. You are our conduit.
What? No, this wasn't happening to her.
The choice is yours. We can recede. You will be left alone. We will approach again at another time.
Who are you?
Watchers.
A chill ran through her and panic bubbled up into her throat. She rubbed her arms and blurted aloud. "Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. I don't want this. I don't want this."
Call Calloway.
Yes. The one person she knew who could understand, and maybe even make sense of what was happening to her. She reached for the phone and flipped through her address book.
She punched the number. Waited. A man answered. She identified herself and asked for Calloway.
Please be there.
A couple of agonizing moments passed. "A minute please," the voice said in a faint Spanish accent.
Thank God.
"Camila?"
"I'm so glad you're there. I went for a walk," she blurted and told him what happened, exactly as she recalled it.
"Okay, calm down," Calloway said when she finished. "You've got to understand what's going on. These are not aliens. These are remote viewers working with Gordon Maxwell. They are getting in your head now just like they did to the president. Don't trust any thoughts that seem like they're coming from outside of you. That's the important thing."
"But Trent. I saw the disk. It was there."
"You thought you saw it. Did anyone else see it?" he asked.
"I don't know. I haven't seen anyone. They're all at a party looking at a star—not a UFO."
''What?''
"Never mind."
"Okay. Here's what I want you to do. Relax yourself, take several deep breaths, and imagine an invisible wall around you that will keep out any invasive thoughts."
"Will that work?"
She heard another voice in the background and Calloway excused himself. He came back a few seconds later. "Camila, what I suggested can help. I don't want to scare you, but it might not be enough."
"What do you mean? Do you think they might come back?"
She listened as he told her about how Agent Fielding had seen knives and nearly shot Perez. "I know this sounds crazy, but we're protected here now by an electromagnetic field. They can't penetrate it. It might be a good idea if you come over here. I don't think you should be anywhere near the president tonight."
"You're scaring me, Trent."
"I'm sorry, but I'm concerned about you."
"Okay. I'll see if I can get a car."
"Good. Head to Crested Butte and give me a call on the way. I'll give you directions."
She hung up. Definitely a crazy idea. But what else was she going to do? She certainly didn't feel like going to a party.