Undead at Groom Lake

Undead at Groom Lake

By R.G. Johnston

For, Damien

Books by R.G. Johnston

Vinland: The Beginning

Vinland Ragnarök: Twi’light of the Gods

Undead at Groom Lake: A Novella about the Dead Walking

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The Writer

Copyright Page

Hey Mom,

I made it—the bus driver let me off on Extraterrestrial Highway and Grants Street, in front of the gates to the campus. Mr. Tibbles, the janitor and groundskeeper, was pretty cool about letting me move in with my backpack a week before the dorm opened. It’s been like camping with a mattress. I have everything I need and unlimited access to the dorm bathroom and the dorm kitchen.

Walking the halls is pretty lonely. Not all the lights have been hooked up. The place smells of plaster and putty, paint and wood. There are a few construction workers; most of them are migrant—Haitian, I think. They walk past, usually carrying something on their shoulder, and stare suspiciously, not saying a word. I usually glance at them, waiting for a friendly acknowledgement, but rarely get one.

LCU is a pretty big campus. There’ll be more to do on campus than in Rachel, once the sports complex, the food complex, the recreation complex, and all the other complexes are finished. Right now the campus is pretty empty except for the construction workers and the athletes like me, who arrived a week early, for tryouts.

Our dorm room is on the third floor; it faces Extraterrestrial Highway, and on the other side of that is Nellis Air Force Range and Groom Lake. It’s too far to see anything with the naked eye. I noticed a sign warning people that the use of binoculars and telescopes is forbidden.

As I unpacked, I stopped and looked across the desert at the setting sun. The desert has a stark loneliness about it. It’s beautiful, but if you stare into it for too long, the desert wind will carry your thoughts to far-off places, like the loose desert sand, and you find yourself imagining things that you wouldn’t otherwise think of. If you stare out into it long enough, you feel a part of it; its barrenness compels you to fill it up, and there’s always the temptation to cross it, to get lost in it, to see what’s on the other side.

That first night I woke up in the middle of the night, shivering—I forgot how cold the desert gets at night. I thought I heard moaning, like someone suffering, and I pressed my ear to the screen; it could’ve been the sound of a motor, but the desert wind confused it. There was a pop and then another one, then only the wind.

I thought maybe I was half asleep and dreamt most of it, but when I woke up in the morning and the window was closed, I realized I’d been up in the night to shut it.

On my way to the gym, I ran into Mr. Tibbles. Mr. Tibbles, did you hear moaning noises last night? I asked.

He paused, looking through me as if a distant memory were pulling him backward. No, I didn’t. The soldiers sometimes do night maneuvers, though I’ve never heard them.

Oh. Thanks, I said. I didn’t believe him.

Todd and Keith are here now. I don’t feel so homesick, living with guys that I grew up with. Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll look out for each other.

Keith and Todd passed out about forty-five minutes before we’d unpacked their last box, so I guess I should rephrase that and say that I unpacked their last box. We set up some curtains in between our beds for privacy—Todd’s idea. I like it because I can study and read late into the night and not have to worry that I’m bothering Keith and Todd.

I heard the moans again last night; they were definitely coming from within the base, somewhere deep within Nellis Air Force Range. I tried to wake up Keith, but he was too wiped out from the day. He pushed me away, mumbling, It’s probably coyotes you hear. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

I tried recording the moans on my phone so I could play it for Todd and Keith in the morning, but when I played the recording back I heard nothing. I went to bed trying to forget what I thought I heard.

TTYL, Daim

>>Text message delivered<<

Hi Mom,

I talked to another athlete on the treadmill next to mine this morning. His name is Rick; he’s a third year space sciences student. He went to LCU because his dad, when he was alive, worked as a civilian scientist on the base; his tuition is paid for by the military. Rick didn’t go into detail, but his father died in an accident in one of their labs.

He told me that the meteors collected from the Mars probe missions and the lunar missions, and meteors falling on US home soil and the territories, are brought to the Nevada Test Site and stored in one of the areas on the base. His father was one of the lead scientists. The samples are examined for deadly pathogens protected within rocks that survive the heat of entering Earth’s atmosphere.

The government doesn’t hide the fact that these areas exist, but they avoid answering questions about what really goes on there. The remoteness of the areas makes it ideal for isolating any threats away from the public, Rick said. "What’s above ground is a small area of the base; most of it is underground.

The military keeps the rumors going because it’s the best way to keep the public confused and talking. Area 51 is in there too, though the air force refuses to call it that; it’s now an operating location near Groom Lake.

Did your dad talk about his work? I asked.

No.

Did you ask your dad what would happen if a virus or bacteria were exposed to our atmosphere?

Rick nodded. "I asked him that question. He did say there’s no way to predict what would happen—it could affect one or all species; it could wipe out one or more species, or all species. He said the majority of viruses they did find are Paleolithic forms of what’s here on Earth already. There’s no way they can harm us; they’re trapped within the rocks during re-entry and most are sterile by the time they reach the surface.

My dad said that, throughout human history, thousands or millions of meteors have fallen to Earth. In all that time, not one meteorite has threatened us or other animal life on the planet because of the virus it contains. It’s the damage from the impact that’s the threat.

His treadmill beeped. It was great talking to you, he said.

Same here, I replied as he left.

I couldn’t get our conversation out of my head for the rest of the day.

I found a theory called panspermia on the Internet. Some scientists believe that life can survive the effects of space; it exists throughout the universe and moves through space in asteroids, meteoroids, and planetoids.

An entry made by two researchers at the University of Naples claimed that they had found extraterrestrial bacteria inside a 4.5 billion-year-old meteorite. And the Mars probe found organic molecules inside a rock.

My talk with Rick really got me thinking.

I have to go…TTYL.

>>Text message delivered<<

Hi Mom,

More jocks are showing up on the campus. Tryouts are in a few days. Class registration has just opened online and through the phone.

There’s a girl that exercises at the same time of the morning as I work out. I pressured Mr. Tibbles to tell me her name; he ended up getting a free cup of coffee out of me for it.

It’s Madi-lynn Hays, he said, slurping his coffee. I’ve overheard people calling her Madi. Thanks for the coffee. He turned and walked toward the break room.

By the time Madi shows up I’m usually into my second mile on the treadmill. I watch her over my shoulder as she unpacks her bag and sets up her stair machine—I memorized her settings and when I remember, I try to have her machine set up for her before she gets to the gym. Sometimes our eyes wander and touch as we pass from machine to machine; I’ve managed a smile once or twice, when that happened. I get the feeling that she feels a bit uncomfortable with me at times. I want to talk to her, but the words get all jumbled inside my head.

I recognized her in the library the other day. She may have tried to make eye contact with me there too, but I’m not sure; I was too self-conscious to notice.

Keith and Todd walked in and sat at my table as I stared at the back of Madi’s head, two study tables away from me, where she sat by herself. I don’t think she’s seeing anyone, Todd whispered.

Hell, I already asked her, and before I knew what was happening, she was turning me down. Keith grimaced. But the nice thing about it—my feelings weren’t hurt; she was apologizing to me and I was feeling like an idiot that I put her in that awkward position. Dude, you don’t have a chance.

Go for it, Todd said, smiling. I’ve known Todd for nine years and I still can’t tell whether he’s setting me up or encouraging me. I think it’s a bit of both.

I slid out of my seat and sauntered over to Madi’s table. I touched her table with my fingertips, then jumped as her head jerked up to face me.

Oh, hi Ma-M-Madi. My name’s Damien; my friends call me Daim. I wanted to introduce myself sooner, in the gym, but wasn’t sure if I’d…uh…be disturbing you, I mean.

Sure, Daim. I’m Madi, she said, offering her hand. I shook it, unsure if she wanted to be my friend or if the handshake was the beginning of something more.

I looked down at what she was reading. How do you like calculus? I asked.

She shrugged and looked down at the book. I was hoping to get a jump on first year calculus, but it’s a little beyond me, she admitted.

I was one of the top students in my high school calculus class. I can give you a hand, if you like.

She smiled up at me. If you want to sit with me, you can.

I’ll just get my stuff, I said.

When I walked back to the table to get my stuff, Keith flipped me the shaka, mouthing Awesome! I walked back to Madi and sat down next to her. It was a good thing I’d changed shirts this morning and remembered to brush my teeth. I felt the first crumpled sheet of paper hit the back of my head as I opened my lab book.

So where are you from, Madi? I asked, waving my hand behind my back to signal Todd and Keith to cut it out.

I’m from Las Vegas, she replied. How about you?

I grew up in Canada, just outside of Stirling, Ontario.

My family used to take trips to Jasper and Whistler.

Oh yeah. A lot of Americans go skiing in the Canadian Rockies, I said as I took out a sheet of paper and my iPhone and placed both on the table between Madi and me. I’ve never seen them.

My phone vibrated across the tabletop. I turned on the screen and read the message from Keith: Has she turned you down yet? I pushed the Off button and opened Madi’s calculus book.

I think this lab— I began.

You can ask me out if you want to, she interrupted.

I jerked my eyes up from the book. Pardon me?

Do you want to go out with me? she asked.

Uh, yeah…sure I do. I really do, I stammered.

She smiled.

I grabbed my phone and replied to Keith’s text: No. Then I switched it back to the scientific calculator.

After that, I can’t remember much of what happened. Madi talked, I listened. Then I talked and she listened. We laughed and had a really good time together.

Hey Mom, remember I told you that if I could meet a girl that laughed at my jokes, I’d fall in love with her? Well, Madi laughs at my jokes.

I thought of the times that I should’ve talked