OverXelous
patreon
3. Seeking Answers
🕑 Added 2024-11-13 02:37:49 +0000 UTCJonathan sipped on the bitter coffee in his mug. His phone lay on the wooden kitchen tabletop. He took a deep breath, letting memories of Marcus wash over him. As it rang on speaker, he looked at Marcus’s dog tags in his fingers. They were still taped with thin strips of duct tape at the top and bottom. It was a tradition in RASP for the instructors to have the young soldiers tape the tags together to prevent the rattling noise, citing the need to be silent.
He remembered the pride he felt when his son came home on his first leave, trying so hard to be older and more mature. The pride and sense of importance from completing the selection process was still fresh in Marcus's demeanor. They’d shared a beer, and when Marcus spoke about embodying the unit's ideal of the 'silent professional,' they bonded on a level deeper than just friends or father and son. Jonathan could see the man his son was becoming, and Marcus began to understand the deeper reasons behind his father's way of living.
“Hey, you’ve reached Mike. Leave a message.”
Jonathan sighed and tapped the red button to end the call with Mike.
He scrolled down through the contact list until he found Jimmy Chen and put the call on speaker as it rang. Realizing that he was exhausted and reminiscing wasn’t productive toward his goal, Jonathan put the dog tags around his neck and touched the space bar of his laptop to wake it back up.
Jonathan had dozens of tabs open, making navigation frustrating. Each briefly mentioned odd military movements or rumors of a friend gaining superpowers. His search was focused on eastern Washington, especially the Yakima area.
“It’s Jim. Leave your name and number, and I’ll-”
He ended the call and scrolled down to his next contact. Dawson was still in the service but leading a battalion in the Big Army at this point in his career.
Jonathan called him anyway.
Setting his coffee down, he turned his full attention back to the laptop.
“Who would have thought that this damned social media would be my main source of news,” Jonathan grumbled.
Many of the people Jonathan knew through the years didn’t actually leave Washington State even after their term of service was finished. Instead, they would move to one side of the mountain range or the other, preferring to stay in the gorgeous, temperate state.
This meant that he had plenty of Facebook connections in the area, though he did reduce the number by quite a bit when he began looking for those on the eastern side of the state.
“You’ve reached-”
He clicked into a video someone had posted of the highway being shut down and complaining about the inconvenience. The video showed twenty to thirty cars stopped on the highway as a military convoy blew by them at high speed.
Jonathan saw that it was posted by Susan, who was a connection of one of Tim York’s. When he clicked on Tim’s profile, he realized it was the now-grown son of a York that he served with.
Scrolling through his phone, he couldn’t find a number for York. He sent a message to Tim York instead. He shared his phone number and told him that he served in the military with his father, hoping to get a call soon.
Jonathan sat back in his chair, watching the video play through another time. The vehicles were moving by at such high speeds it was clear that they were traveling somewhere in a hurry. The timestamp showed that it was from two days ago, which meant whatever the military was moving had already reached its destination. He watched the heavy trucks roll past the stopped civilian vehicles one more time before closing the tab.
The clock on his laptop showed 6:43 AM. He needed to handle the school situation before anything else.
Twenty minutes later, Jonathan pulled into the faculty parking lot at Cascade High School. The lot was mostly empty this early, with just a few cars belonging to the administration and early-arriving teachers.
Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed, and his boots sounded loud as he took long strides through the hallway. Jonathan nodded to Mrs. Peterson who worked the front desk. She looked up from her computer and smiled at him, always chipper even at this early hour.
“Jonathan? You’re not usually in this early,” she said.
“I need to talk with Doug if he’s in.”
She studied his face for a moment. Whatever she saw, it was enough for her to stand from her desk and walk to the assistant principal’s office. She disappeared through the heavy wooden door for a short time before re-emerging. A minute later, Doug Whitney ushered Jonathan into his office with a smile.
“What’s on your mind?” Doug asked, settling behind his desk.
Jonathan remained standing, avoiding the chair across from Doug. “I need to take some emergency family leave.” Jonathan kept his voice even. “My son passed away.”
Doug’s professional demeanor softened, “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. Of course, take whatever time you need. Was it David or-”
“Marcus.” Jonathan gave his boss a nod and turned to the door. “I’ll email my lesson plans to the department head.”
“Jonathan, wait,” Doug called. “We have resources, counseling services, and-”
“Thank you,” Jonathan closed the door behind him. He knew that if he was going to make it out East before things settled down, he needed to act quickly, and any more wasted time could cause him to miss his chance.
He had an obligation to his job and the students he taught, so he would do what he needed to ensure those responsibilities were taken care of, but being polite and catering to what others thought he needed was beyond what Jonathan had to give at the moment.
Back in his truck, Jonathan pulled out his cell phone and checked REI's opening hours on his phone. When he saw he had another hour before it opened, he drove home and began to catalog his gear. Even though most of it was fresh in his mind from earlier in the week, this time, he went through it with a purpose and created a list of anything he might be missing.
Several things needed to be replaced and restocked. A med kit that had been stored since his time in service needed to be replaced; the gauze bandages were stuck together from years of sitting in a humid garage. Some chem lights could also be replaced, and the battery on his headlight was dead. He finished his list and got back in his truck after plugging in some of the electronics he would need to charge for an outing.
When Jonathan arrived shortly after opening, the store’s parking lot was nearly empty. He grabbed a cart and headed straight for the camping section. Near the hiking gear, he found a detailed topographical map of Eastern Washington. While his Garmin could detail most things, he had run into enough technological issues in the field to know that there should always be a manual backup.
While there, he tossed a few additional items in his cart: a compass, waterproof markers, and spare moisture-wicking socks.
Fucking hate wet socks.
He grabbed some freeze-dried meals, a new headlamp, and all the other items on his list.
When he got back to his truck, he felt his phone buzz and checked it to find that Tim York had messaged him back.
Tim: Mr. Reeves? My dad has mentioned you before. Something is definitely going on out here. Not sure why you want to talk with Susan, but here’s her number. How have you been?”
Jonathan didn’t respond to the message but clicked the phone number, which automatically began the call through his phone. He jumped into his truck and began heading toward his house.
“Hello?” A cheerful voice answered.
“Susan? My name is Jonathan Reeves; Tim York gave me your number.”
“Oh- oh, okay?”
“I saw your video of the military convoy-”
“Oh my god, isn’t it crazy? I’ve got like three more videos now. They keep coming through at night, too. All of these weird lights in the sky at night. My friend Kelly swears she saw something that looked glowing on the surrounding trees at night. I think it’s aliens. I mean, what else could it be, right?”
Jonathan blinked several times, trying to keep up with her. He pulled over on the shoulder of the road after passing through a stoplight.
“Can you tell me exactly where you saw that convoy?” He reached across into the passenger seat and removed the map he’d purchased in the store.
“It was on Highway 24!”
“Do you happen to remember where exactly they made you pull off the road?”
“Sure do! It was right by the turnoff to Mattawa- there’s a split in the road but they closed off both of them. There was this huge line of trucks, all painted in that weird digital camo. But that's not even the weirdest part. My brother works at the airport, and he says they've been flying in all this strange equipment. Really sci-fi looking stuff. And get this - some guy at the coffee shop was telling me his friend suddenly got super strong, like lift-a-car strong! Can you believe it?”
He mostly tuned out the rest of her chatter as he traced along the highway on the map. After marking the spot on the map with a small red circle, he asked, “When was your most recent sighting of the military movements?”
"Just last night! Around 2 AM - I couldn't sleep so I was watching out my window. All these helicopters flying east, toward the mountains. I got it on video, too. Want me to send it to you?"
"Please." Jonathan studied the map, noting the flight path. "And Susan? If you see anything else..."
"Oh, I'll definitely keep filming! This is like, the most exciting thing that's ever happened here. Everyone's talking about it, even if the news is pretending nothing's going on. My TikTok followers are going crazy over these videos!"
After saving her contact information, Jonathan remained parked and studied the map. The activity seemed concentrated around the eastern edge of the training center, near the more mountainous terrain. The drive would take at least three hours, longer if potential checkpoints were avoided.
Back in his garage, an old footlocker sat in the corner. He lifted the lid and pulled out his cleaning kit. The Glock was first, then the M4. He field-stripped each weapon with practiced efficiency, muscle memory taking over as he cleaned each part.
This wasn't about rescue or recovery. Marcus was dead, and Jonathan knew it. This was about making whatever killed his son pay and about ensuring that whatever the hell was at this classified site understood the cost of taking his boy from him.
The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering gear. Jonathan pulled his old rucksack from storage and began methodically packing: sleeping bag, bivouac sack, extra clothes, first aid kit. The weapons would go in last, wrapped in soft cases, and slide right behind his seat. The dog tags clinked softly as he bent to pick up a coil of paracord.
He'd need to study the map more and plan his route carefully. The drive to Yakima would have to wait until tomorrow, as there were a few more things to take care of, but tonight, he could at least be ready. Jonathan tucked the dog tags under his shirt and continued packing. Each item was a step closer to answers.
The rage and need for action simmered just beneath the surface.
A step closer to understanding what happened to Marcus.
