Situated on the corner of nowhere and someplace you didn’t want to be, the Sundown Motel beckoned to weary interstate travelers like a beacon from a bygone era of simplicity. Two stories tall with no inward facing doors, this dilapidated structure was the only hotel within the city limits that met all of Fitz Hume’s requirements.
Namely, it was centrally located and extremely cheap.
Not that any member of the team got to enjoy much of the wonderment of sleep last night. By the time their driver had steered the behemoth mobile lab into the cramped parking lot, seven long hours of icy roads had everyone ready to hit the hay. None more than Justine, who had only now just managed to force her aching body out of its 200-thread count cocoon to face the day
“Shit,” she muttered angrily as a blast of frigid wind smacked against her face. “Why is it always so cold?”
Turning away, Justine fought with her hotel room door until it eventually shut completely. Why couldn’t this mystery have taken place somewhere warmer… like Hawaii?
From her vantage point on the second floor, the shivering agent had a clear view of the parking lot and the large vehicle that brought them here. However, the unit’s secondary vehicle, a 2012 Tahoe, was now parked in front of a restaurant that shared the Sundown’s parking area.
She hadn’t paid much attention to the eatery last night due to time and the absence of light. But now, the sight of a roadside café sent her stomach doing happiness cartwheels. Justine read the large sign that towered over the landscape. HUDDLE HOUSE, we serve breakfast all the time.
Eggs, she happily thought, scrambled eggs with ketchup.
Justine bounded down a small flight of stairs, being careful to avoid patches of ice and snow. Once in the parking lot, the distance to the restaurant was minimal. Though, as she drew near the transport, her pace slowed considerably. Last night, in the alley behind Bleaker, much of the lab’s details had been obscured by darkness. However, this morning, with sunlight bathing the entire vehicle, the sheer size of the thing could be appreciated.
And being a science fiction nerd, what she saw took her breath away.
Coated in a flat black finish, the massive RV had no outward identifying markings. The most obvious connection her mind could make was to the six-wheeled vehicle from the film Damnation Alley. Though, these tires were nowhere near as big as the Landmaster from that movie. As Justine neared the front of the machine, the only word appropriate enough was “Monster.”
Now within earshot, she noticed the quiet hum of a diesel generator. Not surprising, given the fact that there weren’t any RV hookups in sight. Though it did alert her that someone from the team was onboard. Not knowing who was inside, Justine hesitated for a moment. Should she check in before breakfast? No, her stomach decided quickly that the demand for food was too great.
At the top of a sloping hill, the Huddle House reminded her of a similar chain of famous southern restaurants. Like them, the building was small, consisting of a counter area for waitresses and customers to congregate around, lots of four-person booths, and an open-air kitchen which allowed anyone eating there to hear the sizzle of the grill.
Upon entering, the first thing Justine noticed was that the breakfast crowd had mostly thinned out. Except, of course, the obligatory pair of old farts nursing a cup of coffee that had been served initially around six that morning. The waitresses smiled at them, endured their occasional come-ons, then went back to helping the other customers.
Unsure of who would be eating this late, Justine’s still groggy mind strangely drifted to Foster. Ever since Fitz Hume’s briefing, her view of the guy had shifted radically. Mysteries, an artificial intelligence and clandestine happenings were the stuff of some of her favorite shows, and he seemed to be ground zero for all three. So it was slightly disappointing to see only Saunders tucked neatly into one of the booths.
“Hey, partner.” She hung her coat on a rack near the door.
Saunders took a sip from his cup and waived his partner over. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to join us at all. You’re not starting to feel your age, are you?”
“Funny,” Justine guffawed, then stretched out her right arm to a fair amount of rib pain. “I’m actually feeling your age this morning.”
Both laughed as she started to slide into the booth. Oblivious to anything other than pork products, it wasn’t until the last moment she noticed Malcolm sitting in her intended seat.
“Sorry,” she said instinctively. “I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s alright, Agent Rushing.” Unlike last night, Malcolm was clean shaven and very sober. “Most people overlook me.”
“Good morning.” She offered her hand and he shook it. As she sat down beside him, Justine could plainly see the black FN Five-Seven tucked into the back of his pants. “So, what are you guys talking about this morning?”
“Nothing,” Saunders replied coldly, his previous good mood vanished in an instant. “We haven’t been here that long.”
“Nothing?” Justine looked down at the dirty plates spread across the cheap Formica table. There was barely any food left on either of them. “Looks like you guys have been here for a while. What’s going on?”
Saunders didn’t respond to her question. He just stared intently at Malcolm like he was trying to work out a puzzle. Malcolm, on the other hand, unfazed by the senior agent’s attention, seemed quite content with just sipping his coffee absent-mindedly. She found the dichotomy of these two men quite a sight.
“Whatever.” Too hungry to care about any of this drama, Justine anxiously waved one of the waitresses over. Seeing an escape route, a pretty girl with shoulder length brown hair used this distraction to free her from the older gentlemen’s lecherous clutches.
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“What can I get for you, dear?” She said with a tired, but relieved smile.
“Do you have any hot chocolate?” Justine never drank coffee.
“Sure do, hon.”
“I’ll take a large cup of that.” Without even bothering with the menu on the table, she placed her usual order: “Three eggs scrambled, a slightly burnt biscuit, and a side of bacon if you please.”
“Coming right up.” Making a mental note of her order, the waitress smiled, then asked a still very quiet Saunders and Malcolm. “Are you guys, alright? Do you need a fill-up? Maybe some more toast.”
She addressed the question to both patrons, but it was Malcolm who responded first. “Yes, if you don’t mind, I would love another cup.”
She turned to see if Saunders needed anything, but he just waved her away. “Then, I’ll be right back.”
While waiting for the waitress to return with fresh coffee and hot chocolate, all three of them sat there as quiet as church mice. When she finally did return, Justine happily took her drink, then turned to the others for some answers.
“Ok partner, what’s on the agenda for today?” She took a tentative sip of her hot chocolate. “Besides your master plan of letting me sleep in until noon.”
In response, Saunders half shrugged. For a second, it appeared the silence would continue. But her partner soon decided that he wasn’t going to win his staring contest with the mysterious driver.
“Mosley and Evers have been up for most of the night trying and failing to pinpoint the transmission’s exact location.” He waved his hand dismissively. “So, instead of watching them continue to argue, I decided to get some breakfast.”
“And that’s when you ran into… I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name last night in all the excitement.”
“Purvis, miss.” His fresh cup of coffee obscured much of his face. “My name is Malcolm Purvis.”
“Nice to meet you, Malcolm.” She blew on her hot chocolate and then continued. “So, what’s your little…” Justine had meant to say, ‘part in all this.’ Luckily, her mind finally caught up with her mouth. “I mean… your role in all of this? And don’t tell me you’re just the driver.”
“But that’s what I am.”
Saunders chortled loudly, not believing anything the man said. But Malcolm didn’t react to his veiled accusation at all. The dwarf just continued to nurse his coffee without a care in the world. Feeling awkward, Justine tried to steer the conversation back to the assignment. “Well, what’s our next move?”
Saunders' voice became professional again. “After breakfast, I’m going to check in with the two eggheads before trudging into town. Maybe they’ve made some headway, although I seriously doubt it.”
“Has anyone explained to you what this little mystery we’re supposed to be investigating is?” Justine asked.
“All I know is, something similar happened eight years ago. Foster headed the original investigation. When he finished investigating, no one liked what he had to say. Apparently, most of the intelligence community saw him as…” Saunders tried to search for a nicer word to use but couldn’t, “…crazy.”
“What did he have to say?”
“I have no idea.”
“Is that why he was in Wilson?” Justine’s eyes narrowed on her cup “Because of the conclusions he came to?”
“I don’t know.” Saunders rolled his eyes. “But with this new occurrence, some of what he said back then has borne out to be true. That’s why he’s here, and that’s why we’re here. But that history is immaterial right now. If they happen to have some new intelligence, we’ll move on it. If not, I’m going to follow the director’s orders and contact the locals.”
“A quick meet and greet?” Standard Operating Procedure for playing in someone else’s backyard was to make friendly and help the locals feel like they were part of the game, even when they weren’t. “That sounds simple.”
“Quick and clean, no muss, no fuss.” Her partner returned to staring intently at Malcolm. “You know all about that, don’t you Purvis? No fuss, no muss.”
If this backhanded threat angered Malcolm, he still didn’t show it. The dwarf just serenely smiled like a tiger swatting at a few hungry mosquitos. Feeling this situation begin to turn sharply down an uncomfortable road, Justine decided enough was enough.
“Is there something I should know, guys? Did the two of you date the same girl in High School?”
Malcolm let a hint of a smile show. “Your partner thinks he knows me, Agent Rushing. Even though I have never met the man before in my life.” The dwarf finished his coffee in one hurried gulp. “Apparently, I have one of those faces.”
“Do you know him?” She questioned her partner.
“No,” Saunders looked agitated by the question, “not exactly.”
“See,” Malcolm gestured to Justine with his thumb extended. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
Before anything further could develop, Justine’s waitress arrived with a plate full of eggs and bacon. “Thank you,” she said excitedly, tearing into the paper incased utensils.
Meanwhile, the server topped off Malcolm’s coffee cup. One more time, she inquired about Agent Saunders needs. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get for you?”
“No, miss.” The senior agent’s table manners finally kicked in. “I’m all finished. I’ll just take the bill.”
Malcolm Purvis tapped Justine softly on the shoulder, signaling that he needed to get out. “If you don’t mind, Agent Rushing, I think I’ll head back to the bus. Those geeks of yours have been running the generator all night long. The fuel tanks require my attention.”
Happy to oblige, Justine slid off the bench.
Much to Saunders dismay, the mysterious driver made no effort to pay his portion of the check. Upon this inconsequential slight, Saunders simmer turned to a boil. “Just going to walk away without paying for what you did?” He pretended to catch himself. “Sorry, I meant, for what you ate?”
“Agent Saunders,” Malcolm’s expression, placid as ever, was betrayed only by a slight curl of the lip. Evidently, her partner’s holier than thou act was starting to wear a little thin. “The government will more than cover my tab. Just send them the bill.”
The diminutive driver smiled broadly, then strolled past a long string of barstools on his way to the exit. Halfway through his exodus, Malcolm caught their waitress’ attention. Immediately, she stopped what she was doing to give him her undivided attention. From an unseen pocket, he pulled a piece of paper and placed it in her open hand. Whatever it was made her giggle.
As he left, Justine watched as the very happy waitress practically floated back to the counter. “Good things come in small packages, I guess.” She looked back at her sullen partner. “What was all that about?”
“Nothing.” Through a frost-covered window, he watched Malcolm make his way down the small slope. Then, hurry off toward the lab. “Nothing I can prove anyway.”
“Prove.” Justine thought that was a strange word to use, considering the director had personally assigned him to this mission. “What do you mean prove? Has he done something wrong?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. He is right about one thing, though. I’ve never met him before.”
Justine stared at Saunders as if she was seeing him for the first time ever. First Foster, now Jeffrey, was the world shifting realities on her. “This week is getting weirder and weirder. Do you know that?”
Saunders did. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Especially if you don’t try.”
Justine reached across the cluttered table and snagged a half-empty bottle of ketchup from its resting place. She twisted off the cap, then turned it upside down over her scrambled eggs with reckless abandon. A little horrified, Saunders couldn’t help but notice that there were very little of her actual eggs left showing.
“How do you eat them like that?” He made a disgusted face.
Caring very little about his question, Justine sniffed the air above her food like a hungry animal. She had eaten eggs like this ever since she was a little girl. Her father had gotten her hooked, and this ritual was her way to remember him. Justine recited a short prayer that her mother always said during these moments.
“Please God. Help me make sense of all this craziness.”
