Milwaukee Deep

Its tail twitched as the sirens continued to blare.

Robert Matner continued his search for the entry control panel to the transport ship, each moment bringing him closer to breaking point.

“For fuck’s sake!”

He quickly turned around to see if they were coming up the corridor.

There was no movement.

He then turned to check on the creature that lay in the middle of the hanger, its body crushed by a fallen block of ice.

He froze.

The floor was empty.

“Holy shit,” he whispered softly.

He moved to the far corner of the ship, pushing himself up against it. He again checked to his right to see if anything was coming up the corridor.

Still empty.

He inched to the left of the vessel, each step taken ever so slowly.

With his heart beating fast, he saw his opportunity – the corridor at the far end of the hanger – his original plan of moving as far away as possible from them was now the best option.

Unsure of where the injured one lurked, he closed his eyes and held his breath – he knew it was only a matter of time before it found him.

Moving slowly around the transport vessel, he kept his eyes on the corridor that led him to the hanger, hoping, praying to see the injured alien take that same path.

Still it was empty.

With the piercing sound of the siren still attacking his ears and brain, Matner crouched close to the icy floor and peered out behind the transport ship to get a better look at the entire hanger.

There was no sign of the injured creature.

“It’s now or never,” he said softly.

With all of his might, Matner pushed off hard from the icy wall and sprinted across the empty hanger, his mind focused on nothing but that corridor.

Reaching it, he turned around to see if he’d been followed.

He hadn’t.

The hanger was empty.

As all five men walked out of the main warehouse and across the compound, Harding turned to Burton; his body now covered in a regular army uniform, and asked him the same question again.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Michael?”

Burton turned to the CIA agent who only days ago wanted him dead.

“I’m surer of this than anything else in my life,” he replied.

“Good.”

“So where exactly are we going?” called out Sam from behind as the group approached the helicopter, its rotors spinning, the noise growing louder with each step towards the machine.

“Patrick Air Force Base,” replied Harding, raising his voice, “that’s where we operate the transport vessel – we’re going to need that to get to the mother ship.”

All of them, Perks, Jensen, Sam, Harding and Michael reached the Black Hawk and began to board.

“Sir,” said the pilot as Harding entered the front seat, “we’re going to need to make a pit stop at Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina – I’m going to have to need a refuel before we hit Patrick.”

“Very well,” Harding replied as he put on his headset and grabbed the briefcase that sat still on the floor under the front seat. He placed it firmly on his lap.

“Just do me one favour,” he continued, “keep off the radio once we hit the skies – I don’t want anything to spook the transmitter in this briefcase.”

The pilot looked at the aluminum case. He frowned.

“Affirmative, Sir – the last thing I want to do is interfere with that thing.”

Sam sat down and turned to the Jersey compound and smiled.

“What’s that look for?” Jensen asked as he looked over to Sam.

“I’m just thinking about Dr Steven’s reaction when he comes up from the bunker and finds us not there.”

Jensen couldn’t help but return the smile.

Agent Phillip Cooper stood silently behind the dark blue Ford Taurus that sat parked in the right lane of the Lincoln Tunnel. Agent Paul Karidis was standing ten yards away, holding a conversation with a uniformed police officer.

“Just keep traffic at bay until we return – do you understand me?” Karidis ordered.

“Yes, Sir, but they’re not going to be happy,” the officer replied, his hand resting on his radio as the blue lights of his car flashed in the background.

“I don’t give a shit – we’re talking about the President’s son here – just keep them at bay until we check out this area.”

Karidis turned and walked back to where Cooper was standing.

“Everything, okay?” asked Cooper.

“It is now – let’s get to work.”

Both men made their way across the two lanes.

Traffic was now at a complete standstill.

They climbed up onto the elevated pathway and walked a few yards until they reached the side door.

It read, ‘authorised personnel only’.

“I hope he’s here,” Karidis said.

“I hope he’s alive,” Cooper replied.

As they entered the maintenance area, Cooper turned to his left.

“I’ll head down this way – you take the right and see if you find anything.”

“Keep on the radio,” replied Karidis as he walked away in the opposite direction.

Slowly Cooper made his way down the concrete hallway.

Finally he arrived at a door at the far end of the corridor.

It was locked.

As he reached inside his coat to pull out his knife, Karidis’ voice rang out in his earpiece.

“Cooper, get here now! I found him, repeat I found him!”

Cooper turned and ran back towards Karidis.

“How is he?” he asked as he sprinted along the corridor.

“He’s alive,” was the reply, “barely, but he’s alive.”

Cooper reached the opened maintenance room.

Karidis was kneeling on the concrete floor; Joel Stoker lay slumped in his arms.

He looked up at Cooper.

“Call it in,” he said, “You deserve to be the one who informs the President that we found his son.”