Ghostwalker

CHAPTER ONE

Sergeant Eddie Cooper squeezed the trigger of his M4 rifle yet again, eyes wide with fear, as the stone figure approached him. The rifle again spat out a single bullet, which again ricocheted off the hard stone body of the intruder without doing any apparent damage. And now, it was almost upon him.

Cooper’s eyes were blinking rapidly now, his brain telling him that what he was seeing–a man made of living stone–just wasn’t possible. His brain was also telling him to run. Cooper didn’t run though. His legs remained rooted to the concrete he stood on, not from a sense of duty, but from fear. Fight had won out over flight, and Cooper was jerking the trigger of his rifle as fast as he could.

The stone man, a stone cloth wrapped around his loins, long, stone hair hanging down from his head, had an impassive stone face partly concealed by the short, stone beard covering it. It was a face Eddie Cooper was all too familiar with, having stared at it many times over the past few months, ever since he was first assigned to this remote outpost.

He’d heard the stories when he was first stationed at the air base: how in the mid-1980s, as the Titan II silos were being dismantled, a security team had abandoned their posts at this site, running away across the Arizona prairie, later claiming the site was haunted. Before them, missile crews had reported the same thing throughout the Cold War. The old timers claimed it had been the highest washout rate for missile crews of any silo in the entire USAF inventory.

That security team decades ago hadn’t fled from ghosts though. They’d reported a stone statue from the cemetery not far outside the security fence coming to life and walking toward them. Eddie had never believed that story, until now.

An hour ago, he and his partner had driven out from the main warehouse on the property that housed the old missile silo–part of their nightly check of the locks securing the doors of the deactivated underground complex. Things had been routine, until Eddie’s partner had screamed like a frightened girl, ran to their Humvee and driven away at a breakneck speed.

When Eddie heard the sound of chainlink fencing being ripped apart, he’d turned away from his vanishing partner to behold the impossible sight now walking toward him, stone arms outstretched.

The M4 was finally empty–all thirty rounds expelled, the loud reports surely echoing across the dry landscape of Arizona for miles and miles. Eddie grabbed at the ammo pouch on his web belt, reaching for a new magazine. But it was too late–the stone figure was upon him.

Unyielding gray fingers pushed the empty M4 aside and grabbed Eddie’s neck. The impassive face, its stone eyes unmoving, was now inches from his own. He felt his throat being squeezed shut even as he was lifted off the ground.

Eddie grabbed at the stone arms, dropping his rifle and ineffectively clawing at his captor, trying to stop it from choking the life from him.

His heart was beating like a jackhammer now. He could feel it thundering in his chest. He could no longer breathe or break free. His resistance turned to wild thrashing, kicking, and clawing as he desperately tried to free himself.

All at once, Eddie convulsed, intense pain racing through his arm and into his chest. He would have gasped for air, but his throat was closed off now. His eyes rolled up in his head and the world went black.

Someone else in Eddie’s place might have had a split second of introspection before they died of fright, finding it peculiar that they had died of a heart attack, literally scared to death by the impossible stone man come to life. Eddie Cooper had no such thought. The panic that filled every fiber of his being was simply too intense. The abandoned airman simply died, alone and terrified in the night.

CHAPTER TWO

Professor Richard Merlo looked out the window of the noisy Blackhawk helicopter he was riding in, watching the dry Arizona terrain slowly pass by below. His dark brown eyes squinted against the bright light reflected off the desert as he wondered where exactly he was being taken.

The helicopter banked suddenly, and Merlo’s assistant, seated beside him, grabbed his hand nervously. This was the first time Rose Nasser had ever flown in anything in her life.

Professor Merlo looked over to the dark-skinned, bleached-blonde co-ed and smiled reassuringly.

It was unbearably hot in the helicopter. That was to be expected in mid-summer. Merlo pulled at the open collar of his light shirt, wishing he was back in his air-conditioned classroom, looking out over a full enrollment of wide-eyed young minds–some of which were eager to actually learn.

Across from Merlo and his assistant, a young couple sat holding hands: a dishwater-blonde young man, James, and his dark-haired wife, Josie, making small talk during the flight. Merlo couldn’t hear them–the rotors of the military aircraft were far too loud–and they had apparently switched the headsets they wore to a private channel.

James and Josie weren’t Merlo’s students–although they could have passed for them. They were Federal agents that had recruited him and talked him into this helicopter flight into the middle of nowhere. Merlo had never heard of a married team of Federal agents before. But that was the least-unusual thing about this trip.

Agents Kane and Kane had quietly come to the end of one of his classes–Paranormal History 101–listening quietly from the back until the day’s lecture ended. Then they had approached him with an offer of temporary employment, along with the promise of a hefty grant courtesy of the U.S. Department of Defense.

The popular Professor had at first thought it was a prank, but the check and travel documents had looked more than real enough. Merlo had agreed to play along, primarily because if the unusual offer was for real, he could definitely use the money for his research.

Several hours later, his gear packed up and ready, Merlo and his young aide had been spirited away to a local airport, where they boarded a small passenger jet that ferried them to an undisclosed airbase. There, they had been quickly transferred to a military transport and flown to what Merlo had deduced was Arizona, based on the terrain and flora he saw from the air.

Both Merlo and Rose had been required to sign Non-Disclosure Agreements of their impending work during the flight to the air base. Any questions about what exactly a Professor of Parapsychology Studies was needed to do went answered with smiles and promises of a more thorough explanation once they reached the site.

And at last, Merlo felt he was about to get some answers. The helicopter was slowly circling what the Professor guessed was their final destination, decreasing altitude to land. From the air, it was pretty non-descript: a large metal-roofed warehouse of some kind, near a big concrete pad, a handful of smaller buildings, and a parked military Humvee–all of it surrounded by high metal fencing and miles and miles of desert.

The Blackhawk helicopter settled down onto the ground near the warehouse, only jostling its passengers slightly. A crewman pulled back a big sliding door, then helped Agents Kane and Kane out, followed by Professor Merlo and finally Rose. The crewman and Agent James Kane then wrestled out a big cargo container filled with Merlo’s gear, while Rose grabbed up their overnight travel bags, one in each hand.

It was even hotter on the ground than it had been in the air, and the big rotors of the helicopter, still turning, were kicking up sand and dirt. Merlo tried to shield his eyes and wished he’d thought to bring sunglasses.

Josie Kane led him away from the helicopter, one hand on his sleeve, toward the big metal warehouse nearby. He could see through eyes squinted against sand and sun a group of people in military uniforms there, waiting.

Two of the group wore tiger-striped camouflage Air Force uniforms and dark blue berets. The other three wore tan and brown digital camouflage. The first was a woman with bright red hair standing beside a thin military man wearing a camouflage ballcap. The last member of the group, towering head and shoulders over everyone else, wore a black beret with his desert camouflage, adorned with a single, gleaming silver star.

Professor Merlo, Josie Kane introduced, nearly yelling over the noise of the nearby helicopter. General Kenslir.

Merlo smiled and shifted his large shoulder bag around so he could extend his right hand. He could barely hear over the big Blackhawk nearby.

Thank you for coming, Professor, the large General boomed.

White hair was just visible under his beret, but the gigantic soldier had smooth, slightly-tanned skin that suggested he might be younger than Merlo would have expected for a General. Green eyes so dark they were nearly black stared into Merlo’s, while a square jaw gave a half-smile of greeting. The General’s big hand swallowed the Professor’s. And unlike his blue-bereted companions, the General’s uniform was marked U.S. Army.

And this is his assistant, Omorose Nasser, Josie Kane continued, gesturing toward the Professor’s short assistant.

"Ahlan wa sahlan," the Army General greeted, shaking Rose’s hand.

The blonde was startled. "Please, call me Rose. And I’m sorry, but my parents didn’t teach me any Arabic..."

"Welcome, Rose," the General replied.

Before he could say anything else, the redhead beside the big soldier stepped forward, extending a hand tipped with bright red fingernails that matched the color of her lips. Doctor Laura Olson.

Olson had bright red hair and pale skin, with full red lips. Her eyes were concealed behind dark glasses. The redhead’s uniform didn’t have any markings–no name tape, no designated branch of service, and no rank.

She took Rose’s hand, then Merlo’s, shaking each quickly.

The General nodded to the others in his group, his voice carrying over the roar of the helicopter’s engines. This is Lieutenant Hornbeck, Airman Trumball, and Senior Master Sergeant Hugo.

Merlo shook each of the hands offered him, quickly sizing each person up.

Hornbeck was much more like any other student Merlo had ever taught–young and pale-skinned with dark hair cropped short under his military hat. Like the General, Hornbeck wore a U.S. Army uniform, but it was marked with a subdued Lieutenant’s bar on hat and shirt.

Trumball was a strapping twentyish young man that looked like a quarterback with a square jaw, wide shoulders, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was also the closest in size to the immense General. Three stripes marked each sleeve of his U.S. Air Force uniform.

Hugo, the Senior Master Sergeant with seven stripes on each sleeve of his Air Force uniform was a dark-skinned Asian–probably Filipino. He was the shortest of the group, even shorter than Rose who Merlo knew to be only five-foot-three.

The General motioned for everyone to follow and began to walk away from the front of the metal warehouse and the noisy helicopter still sitting nearby, engines idling. He led the group around a corner of the building, then finally to the rear, stopping in the scant shade there.

Once they were around the building, it was easier to hear him.

I’m sorry for the rush, Professor, but time is of the essence.

I-I’m grateful for the opportunity, Merlo began. This is all pretty amazing, but I just don’t see how I can be of service...

We need an expert on spirits, Professor, the big soldier explained.

Spirits? Rose asked skeptically. What do spirits have to do with the military?

This is site 574-7, the General answered. A Titan-Two missile silo.

This is a missile silo? Rose interrupted, horrified. "As in, nuclear missiles?"

She looked around the site, which, save for the metal warehouse and handful of smaller buildings and chain link perimeter fencing, was nothing but a broad expanse of concrete dotted with small pipes and poles jutting up from whatever was beneath their feet.

Missile–singular. The site was deactivated in 1982. There’s no missile or warhead here today, General Kenslir replied.

I’m confused, General. What does the military need with a parapsychologist at a former missile site?

Merlo hoped he knew the answer and waited for a confirmation.

Rose was looking around again, studying the area more intently. If the missile is gone, why is there a fence? Why is there–

Her voice trailed off as she looked off across the compound. On this side of the main building, they had a much better view of the site.

Is that a cemetery?

Merlo turned and followed her line of sight. The site was surrounded by a tall security fence. Further out, a second line of fencing encircled the site, marking of a huge area of Arizona desert. And beyond that outer perimeter fence, there was a small area with bleached headstones. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it from the air.

Merlo’s eyes tracked back to the inner line of fencing and noticed a number of tables had been set