Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

roads. It was still busier than normal, even though it was mid-week. The holidays always created a mad rush to and from the big cities, but it didn’t seem as bad today as previous years.

My music was interrupted as someone called me. I glanced at the screen, seeing Marcus’ name, so I tapped the phone button on my steering wheel. “Marcus, what’s up?”

“You have to be kidding me. Didn’t you see my text?” he demanded, his voice high-pitched. It tended to do that when he was excited.

“No. I’m driving to my sister’s. What did it say?” I asked.

“Turn on the radio,” he said.

I went to do so, but he was on the Bluetooth. “I’ll have to hang up first.”

“Fine. Call me back. This could be it,” he said ominously.

“Could be what?” I questioned out loud as I scanned through the radio stations. I used my satellite radio to pick up what I thought to be the most reputable news feed, and waited for an advertisement to stop.

“Welcome back to Across This Great Nation with Bill McReary. Today, we’re with astronomist Dr. Lisa Bronte. Lisa, what can you tell us about the anomaly discovered last night?” My interest was piqued, and I shifted in my seat, waiting for her reply.

“Well, Bill, we don’t know much. The image only shows a small dark object against Pluto, so this will be speculation and conjecture, but there is a chance it’s not just a hunk of asteroid from the Kuiper Belt.”

“What makes you say that, Dr. Bronte?” Bill asked.

“This is early days, but it doesn’t appear to be moving.”

“Which means?”

“If it broke free from something, it would have a trajectory. You need reverse thrust to completely stop out there.”

“What are you saying, Doctor? That this is a vessel from outer space?” Bill asked, and I cracked a smile.

“Doubtful, but we’ll be keeping a close eye on it,” Lisa told him.

They went on to discuss what it most likely was, and that ranged from a distortion of gas to a large meteoroid. I turned it off and returned Marcus’ call.

“You can’t be serious,” I said as soon as he answered.

“I thought you were looking for proof?” he asked.

“Proof? That’s not what this is about,” I told him.

“Then why are you searching for these strange artifacts from your dad’s book? You want evidence of visitors from another world, don’t you?” he asked.

I stared forward, staying within my lane as I cruised down the highway. I saw the signs for my hometown, and the familiar local shops’ billboards along the ditches, advertising a couple of businesses I used to frequent as a kid. “Marcus, I told you I’m done with all of that. My days of dragging you into underground chambers are over.” I cringed as I recalled the man killed in the cavern’s collapse. I still didn’t know who’d been chasing after us.

“But what if there’s more?” he asked, and I could picture his face: sullen and withdrawn, as it always had been when he’d first been a student of mine. I knew he’d come from a tough background and had been looking for a real future when we’d met.

“There is, but I can’t spend my life in pursuit of the invisible. It’s time to let this rest.”

My tone had a sense of finality to it that Marcus seemed to pick up on. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye on this anyway. Just in case,” he said.

“Fine. You do that. What are you up to for the holidays?” I asked him, and the pause explained the upcoming answer.

“Catching up with some friends. Enjoy your sister’s house. Say hi for me,” Marcus told me.

“I’ll get you a piece of pie. I’ll be home Sunday. Want to stop by for dinner?” I asked him.

“Sure. I’ll bring the beer. Talk soon,” he said, ending the call.

Everything tended to feel smaller when I returned home, and this experience was no different. Except that for the first time, my mom wasn’t here. The welcome sign was convivial: stark white, with our town’s name painted in red. I drove through Main Street, slowing as I did so, and pulled over, deciding I shouldn’t arrive empty-handed. The little market my sister and I used to frequent as kids with our mother was gone, replaced with a gym.

“Rex? Rex Walker?” someone asked from the sidewalk. Cool air rolled through my half-cracked open window, and I squinted toward the friendly-voiced man. I climbed out of the SUV, tilting my head, trying to recall his name.

“It’s me, Turner Denworth,” he said, grinning ear to ear. His teeth were straight and too white, his hair perfectly styled, and he wore an oversized trench and an obviously expensive suit.

“Of course, Turner.” I shook his hand, squeezing tighter than I’d intended.

“What brings you to town?” he asked.

“Completely random. Nothing to do with the fact that it’s Thanksgiving and my sister lives here,” I told him with a smile.

“Always were a sarcastic one, weren’t you? How is Beverly?” he asked.

“I thought you’d know everything about your community.”

I’d seen his re-election posters plastered on the billboards as I’d driven into town. He ignored my jab. “Do you mind asking if I can count on her for her vote?”

“No problem, Turner. It was good catching up,” I lied. I’d never liked the guy, not since he’d dumped my sister for some cheerleader in Springfield twenty something years ago. I thought he was smarmy then, and he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Oh, I’m sorry about your mother. Must be difficult coming home,” he said before getting into his BMW. He backed out, leaving without a wave. I watched him go, wondering if it was a mistake to visit here. I could be at my townhouse in Boston, listening to Bach and stoking my fireplace over a glass of red wine. Instead, I was looking for a grocery store in a town I barely recognized.

Five minutes later, I pulled into a giant chain store a few blocks away, one where you could buy a tent, shoes,