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

“I was hired to watch over the team and protect Hunter Madison. But the longer I’m around all this, the more I’m believing what he’s spouting.” Tripp took a seat beside the pool, between Marcus and Veronica.

“You think the Objects are coming to destroy us?” Marcus asked him.

“I don’t know about that, but it’s possible the Believers do, and they’re fanatical. Deadly. I’ve seen proof. From what Hunter has compiled, they’re so deeply rooted across the world that we could be in some serious trouble when they decide to flip the switch.” Tripp’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t shaved since the beginning of the journey, and he was starting to appear feral.

“Flip what switch?” Veronica sat up, rubbing her bare arms as the clouds rolled in, obscuring the warmth of the sun.

“Hunter suggested they have members in high places. Once the Objects arrive, he’s positive they’ll enact a protocol. Self-serving, of course. If the cult is here to welcome our destruction, that means chaos for the human race.” Tripp nervously tapped his foot as he watched the pool.

“Damn. If Hunter’s right, what control do we have over any of that? The Tokens will offer no power against zealous government officials,” Marcus advised.

“No, but if there is a Bridge, maybe our answers lie within it,” I whispered, peeking toward the living room again.

“No one’s really explained what that means. What does Hunter expect to unearth across this Bridge?” Veronica slipped a hoodie on and began pacing the poolside.

“I think he expects help.” They all looked at me as I said it.

She continued the inquiry. “Help? From whom?”

I shrugged. “Damned if I know. There was a reason my father was so invested. We’ve been trying to determine what Hardy was referring to in his journal, but it’s a bunch of scribbled madness.”

“You have Brian Hardy’s journal?” Veronica asked.

Had I even told her who Hardy was? I tried to scan our interactions but failed to recall. “Sure we do. Marcus is trying to decipher it, but so far, nothing.”

“Have you shown Hunter?” Tripp was back on his feet. Everyone was exhibiting far too much pent-up energy.

“No, we haven’t. We were keeping it to ourselves,” Marcus told them.

“Why?” Veronica barked. “Aren’t we on the same team?”

I walked over to her, grabbing her by the hands. “He has a lot of secrets, and he’s been candid about his associations with the cult. If we want to see this through, we need each other, but he’ll cut our throats as soon as he gets what he wants.”

Tripp was there, shoving me. “If you have a journal he should see, show him.”

I stood my ground. “Tripp, back off.”

“Enough, boys.” Veronica came between us. “I do agree with Tripp, though.”

“About what? Showing Hunter the book?”

“Rex, they may be right,” Marcus said. “There’s a reason this language is getting zero hits on the server. Because it doesn’t exist online.”

At first, we’d assumed it was a cipher, created by Hardy to keep the book a secret, but now, after listening to them, it was possible it was something else. “It’s written in the alien tongue.” I remembered hearing Across This Great Nation with Bill McReary while he interviewed the woman claiming to have been in the Believers cult.

Tripp grimaced, but Veronica appeared excited. I looked at Marcus and nodded. “Bring the book.”

____________

By the time Hunter emerged from his bedroom, it had been dark for two hours. Despite our insistence that we had something the man needed to see, Francois wouldn’t permit his disturbance, so we ordered in dinner and waited, not so patiently.

Veronica wore a slim dress, her heels strewn beside the door. I wore a custom-tailored suit Hunter ordered, which had only involved taking measurements with Marcus’ help. It had arrived hours later, fitting like a glove. The midnight-blue material felt too flashy for my usual tastes, but that was what Cal Harken expected from his guest list.

Veronica was a knockout with her blonde hair pinned up. She’d spent an hour in the master bathroom, using an assortment of blow dryers and curling irons. I hardly recognized our team member as she came downstairs, but she could probably say the same about me.

“What is it you need to discuss?” Hunter asked as he walked out of his room and down the hall.

“We have to leave soon, but Marcus and I wanted to… there’s a bit of information we didn’t disclose earlier,” I admitted to him.

After his rest, Hunter seemed renewed, but he was frowning, likely upset about his meeting with the doctor. We were in the living room, with Francois disappearing down the hall.

Hunter rapped his knuckles on the wall. “Get on with it, Rexford!”

Marcus held the journal we’d discovered at Hardy’s condo and jumped up, handing it to Hunter.

“What’s this?” The old man’s question didn’t need answering as he turned the pages. His knees buckled, and he caught himself on the back of Tripp’s chair. The military man hopped up, guiding Hunter into the seat. “How did you—”

I walked closer, my palms rubbing together nervously. “Is that what we think it is?”

“This is his theory on the Bridge. Or better so, the Sovereign’s theory. Written in the Unknowns’ language.”

“The Unknowns?” The word sounded sharp on Veronica’s tongue.

“That’s what the Believers call their saviors. The race they believed once lived here. Settle in, everyone,” Hunter said.

I glanced at my watch. It didn’t match my suit, but there was no way I was parting with it. I never did. “We’re going to be late.”

“Rex, no one arrives at these shindigs on schedule. You’ll be fine,” he told me.

I sat on the couch beside Veronica, and Hunter snapped his fingers twice. Francois appeared, crossing behind us to retrieve a bottle from the bar. “Are you sure you should be drinking?”

“Rex, you’ll need one to hear what I have to say.” Hunter accepted the outstretched glass from his serving man, and Francois set the bottle and other glasses on the table, indicating that we could pour