Butterfly Dreams (21)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.

-(The Story begins HERE)-

Much To Do
The intrusion into our minds, heralded by tingling sensations within our frontal lobes, was short lived. To a person the four of us had heard the same brief message.

Ben stared at me as if I had projected the thoughts. Susan, visibly agitated, pirouetted as if looking for the source of the inner voice. To their consternation we offered no explanation.

It was Susan who broke the silence, "What is happening? What happened to those men and that woman? Why are we hearing voices?" She stared at Michelle and continued her frantic queries, "You saw what happened. You heard the voice, didn't you? How can you just stand there and say nothing?"

Ben laid his hand upon her shoulder and said, "Susan, I sense that they are somewhat ... afraid of us. No, it isn't fear, it's something else."

I stepped forth and nodded, "It is something else. For now, let me just say that we are looking at ... uh... long lost friends, friends we thought we'd never see again."

"Yes," Michelle said, "but our ... reunion, if you will, was arranged by others. Let us say that their reasons for getting us together are not in our best interests."

Skepticism apparent on his face Ben asked, "...And you know what our best interests are?"

"Honestly, no." I responded, "However, I know that those suits out there, as well as Faye, have their own ulterior motives. You'll have to trust us on this, you do not want to be a part of their plans."

There was rumbling sounds outside of the cottage. It grew louder as if the sources were drawing closer. Michelle moved to the window and peered through the sheer curtains. "Uh, oh. I think our friends have decided to back up those plans."

I joined her at the window with Ben and Susan following close behind on my heels. With its distinctive camouflaged markings a HumVee rambled to a stop by one of the agents standing next to the driveway. Several armed soldiers scrambled out of the back of the vehicle. Another took up station behind the mounted machine gun.

"Wh-what are they doing?" cried Susan.

I glanced over my shoulder at her and replied, "They're setting up a perimeter. They're not taking any chances. They don't want us to get away."

"Shit!" exclaimed Michelle. "Another Humvee just pulled up behind the first one." She faced the three of us and added, "They mean business."

Ben grabbed my arm and said, "It's that mind stuff. They're afraid you'll use it on them again!"

I shook my head and raised my voice, "It wasn't us! We had nothing to do with it. You heard the voice too. There's someone else ..."

"You must leave there. You will know when."

The looks on the collective faces of the others matched the one I was showing. There was no doubt that the four of us had heard the voice in our heads.

Without warning there was a thunderous explosion outside. The window shattered from the concussive force of the blast. We were thrown to the floor amid the flying debris. Missiles of earth and metal showered the facade of the cottage.

Nearly choking on dust and smoke wafting through the broken window I peered over the window sill. Dissipating by a gentle breeze the opaque curtain smoke began to lift to reveal a scene of mayhem before my eyes. The closest of the HumVees lie tipped on its side. The bodies of fallen soldiers and agents lie strewn about the front yard.

Straining my head to the far right of the property I gasped and cried out, "My God! The helicopter ... it blew up! It's ... it's gone!"

Michelle coughed and crawled her knees. "Brock! He was on that chopper!"

We were not allowed to lament on the loss of our friend. The voice rang out inside our skulls.

"Run. Get out of there now!"

( To be continued ...

It's the Thoughts That Count )

№ 1992