The Factory

By Allan E Petersen

Everybody in the small town of Twin Rivers knew that was not the real reason the government shut down the copper mine. So why then was the prosperous Copper Factory so abruptly shut down, declared a ‘Restricted National Security Zone’ and surrounded by signs announcing, Department of National Satellite Weather Research. A short time later three special children who did not know each other mysteriously disappeared from the small community.
Gary Albright was a twelve year boy with an over active imagination. Now living in Twin Rivers with his grandmother, by chance he met Samantha Jackson, a daring and adventurous girl his own age. These two youngsters would eventually expose the horror of the Factory for what it really was and topple heads of governments. What happened to them in those tunnels and the unnatural way they escaped eventually exposed the true horror of the Factory and the unspeakable things done to the three lost children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allan E Petersen
• Release date: Jan 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370899845

Allan E Petersen

Allan E. Petersen, now lives in Vancouver, Canada. Retired, he dedicates his time to a lifelong passion of writing. The two subjects that command his attention are: the mysteries that are hidden within our genetic code and contemporary interpretations of biblical writings. He has combined these two interests in his latest series of books -The House of the Nazarene- the first of which is 'An Angel in the Shadows.'

Book preview

Chapter 1

Amina Green was an odd girl. Not by appearance, for in fact she was an average looking twelve year old. She liked many things about herself which was unusual for a budding adolescent. She loved her long flowing and silky black hair draped over her shoulders. She liked her broad rimmed black glasses, claiming they made her look smart, like a lawyer or doctor. Her blue fawn eyes glowed with a sense of inner contentment both at home and school. Although she was a smart girl, what she did one day was very ill-advised and changed her life forever.

The only thing she did not like about her appearance was those ugly railroad tracks on her teeth that the dentist tried to fool her by calling beauty braces. However, she put up with them knowing that soon they will come off and she will be able to beam a striking smile. Except for one odd thing, there was nothing really wrong with her.

When she was younger, like most that age she had her fair share of imaginary friends and dolls. He parents never paid much attention when seeing her pour two little cups of tea near the playhouse, one for her and one for her make believe friend. Even when hearing voices from her playroom, her mom never attributed any great concern to it. She should have. There was relief in understanding that eventually she would, like all youngsters eventually grow out of needing invisible friends. However, so far that had not happened.

The problems with lingering in a fantasy world are that they are not situations of the real world. Therein was one of Amina’s strange qualities. Not what made her odd, but rather just one of her faults. She grew up becoming naïve and innocent of the real and harsh world. Soon schoolmates took advantage and made fun of her, calling her mean names. She naturally withdrew deeper and closer to the kinder voices in her head.

Finally, her parents sat up and took notice of Amina’s propensity to talk to people who were not there. They did not think it right for a girl that age to insist that the voices were real. It all came to light one day when mother noticed that for weeks on end Amina was forever tired and lethargic. Her grades were dropping and even in the middle of the day all she wanted to do was sleep. When pressed for reasons, all Amina said was that she had trouble sleeping. Her invisible playmates had not recognized the need for sleep and constantly invaded that time with bickering and demands for playtime. It was time for Amina Green to get professional help.

Never at any time did Amina think there was anything wrong with her. All the voices in her head claimed that there was nothing wrong and she believed them. Both parents agreed that for the comfort and ease of the awkward situation, a woman psychologist would be best.

Doctor Fran Jorden was a well-respected psychologist with a Masters in Psychology, specializing in diagnosis and treatment of children’s mental and emotional distress. She was thirty-five years old and when in her office, long auburn hair was done up in a tight bun. Although slender to the point of skinny, she carried her frame well. Looking professional was very important to Doctor Fran Jorden.

Although Amina saw no reason to be here, because of the Doctor’s broad rimmed black glasses just like hers, she instantly connected to her. They made the Doctor look as intelligent as she thought she was. Because the Doctor dealt with adolescent concerns, she felt it best to dress smart but casual. Her office lacked the usual accreditation of certificates and degrees so often pompously displayed on walls to make a patient feel comfortable and safe.

The preliminary session was standard. Amina sat between her parents looking blank eyed and straight ahead. For the first half hour all three members of the Green family sat facing Doctor Jorden. They were attentive to her questions and answered them honestly. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed until Doctor Jorden pointed to the door and asked the parents to wait out in the reception area. There was reluctance on their part but they trusted the Doctor and obeyed the request. It was clear by her nervous fidgeting that Amina was not pleased to be left alone with the Doctor.

Doctor Jorden’s experience in handling young troubled patients sprang to the forefront. She looked straight into Amina’s eyes, smiled and waited for a returned smile. It soon enough happened albeit weakly. Doctor Jorden then began the session by asking,

Amina, are the voices you hear friendly to you?

She did not want to be here talking about something her parents claimed was unnatural and it was evident in her meek reply.

Yes.

Do they ever tell you to do bad things?

Retaining a defensive posture, she again meekly replied,

No. I just hear them talking and stuff like that.

Can you tell me some of the things they talk to you about?

She slowly shook her head and replied,

Sometimes I don’t even understand what they say. It’s sometimes just numbers and funny words.

Like what for instance?

Sometimes they yell stupid things about staying on computer line and a bunch of numbers and stuff like that. Once somebody screamed that the computers had gone off line.

Strangely, as if understanding, Doctor Jorden kindly nodded. When she heard what the voices were telling Amina, she perked alert and took much more than a casual interest in the case. Until then it seemed just another case of a child’s withdrawal into an imaginary and friendlier world. After a pause, she pointed to Amina and said,

This is what I would like you to do for me. Tonight, when the voices talk to you, I want you to write all those numbers and strange words down for me. Do you think you can do that?

Amina hesitantly whispered,

Okay.

Doctor Jorden then got up and walked to the door with her. Before opening the door the Doctor whispered,

Let’s not tell your mom and dad about those stupid numbers and things like that. It will be our little secret okay.

The Doctor’s instructions to Amina should have been a warning that something devious was at hand but Amina lived in a naïve world and saw no harm in keeping innocent secrets from her parents. After all, being honest and telling them about the strange voices was the reason she was forced to come here. Out in the reception area, while standing next to her parents, an appointment was arranged for the next day at two o’clock.

Alone in her office and feeling good that another child may have been located, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a package of cigarettes. With smoke trailing behind her, she went to the big bay window of her office and gazed out into the town of Twin Rivers. Because of her own two boys, there was a tinge of remorse wrapped around what she was about to do. After all, like Amina and the other two boys, they were innocent children not yet aware of the torture and pain they would be subjected to. As she blew smoke against the large window, all those regretful feelings were somewhat pacified by the thousands of dollars she was paid for each delivery.

Chapter 2

Twin Rivers was an appropriately named town, located where two large rivers converged. The Copper River flowed from the nearby mountains and the Great Swanson came from the forest to the north. Although Twin Rivers was once prosperous with copper mining and forestry, that was just over a year ago. Once the mine closed, a major part of the town’s economy flat lined. As Doctor Fran Jorden stood at her office window looking out across Twin Rivers and across the Great Swanson River, she saw high on Copper Mountain the derelict buildings of what was once a bustling copper mine and the deserted buildings left to the ravages of time.

A massive dilapidated concrete building stood on the site atop a labyrinth of abandoned copper mine tunnels. Eventually, the pollution and stink of the mine was kindly absorbed by nature. Now, like an encroaching army a forest of tall Oaks and Pines slowly inched forward to reclaim land that was once cruelly taken from them. The service road leading up to the mine, the Copper Mountain Road once busy with roaring trucks bringing copper ore to the trains also suffered the cruel fate of abandonment.

The odd hiker who at times walked the old road occasionally tripped on chunks of asphalt refusing to cede to persistent land reclamation. There was not much reward for venturing that far up the mountain only to be stopped by a tall and imposing wire fence. The view through the fence bore a sharp contrast to the serenity of the surrounding forest. A massive building with hundreds of broken windows stood helpless and crippled as the forest pushed ever forward.

A short time after the mine had shut down, for a reason not understood by the town’s people, a branch of the Federal Government expropriated the mine and surrounding land. Research by the local paper was unable to discover why the government wanted the land or what was happening up in the old abandoned Factory. If the truth was known, nobody in Twin Rivers cared.

Because Doctor Fran Jorden was new to Twin Rivers, she was not sure why the locals referred to the site as ‘the Factory’. Perhaps while looking up at the compound it reminded them of a complex of buildings more indicative of manufacturing. Many thought that if they broke into the large building they would find deserted machines and tools. However, that was not what was in there or what the new owners were doing.

Nothing much changed to the land with the new owners. Above the mine shafts the building still stood old and waiting to take its last breath and collapse. The biggest physical change by the new owners was the greatly enforced surrounding fence now standing stronger and higher. For the adventurous who dared touch it, it was painfully discovered to be electrified.

The new owners also rehabilitated the old Copper Mountain Road leading from the Factory into town. It soon became busy with large trucks and mysterious black cars driving through town and disappearing at the entrance to the Factory. Helicopters coming and going were by now such a common occurrence that nobody in town bothered looking up at them anymore. The only hint about who the new owners were was a large sign at the heavily guarded sentry gate,

Restricted Area.

Department of National Satellite Weather Research.

No Trespassing beyond this point.

Similar signs were placed on the fence about every fifty yards.

Doctor Jorden butted her cigarette and returned to her desk. She picked up the phone and punched in an inordinate series of numbers. When the other end answered, the softness of her professional demeanor disappeared. Sounding military, she demanded,

I’ll need a printout of tonight’s laboratory communications. Have them sent to my office by two o’clock tomorrow.

There was no need for the amenities of ‘hello’ or ‘good bye’. Orders were orders and so she simply hung up.

As with most communities situated at the base of mountains, accurate weather forecasts are practically impossible. Although the Twin River’s weather forecaster predicted sunny with cloudy periods, it was raining the next day. This time, not just rain but a torrential downpour swelled both rivers to almost overflowing. Because Amina’s dad was at work, her mother, Lola Green arrived in Doctor Fran Jorden’s office with a reluctant and wet Amina in tow. Again, Lola Green was told to wait in the reception area. In the office, Amina knew where to sit and instinctively selected the middle chair.

The good doctor took a few precious minutes to relax the obviously shy Amina with questions of how she felt and how did you sleep. Then, she asked the important question, the one that led to all the trouble to come.

Amina, did you hear voices last night?

Amina nodded and meekly said,

I hear them every night.

Did you do as I asked, write down what you heard?

Yes, but not everything. They talk too fast and say things that don’t make sense.

Doctor Jorden’s eyes widened. That was expected. With intense eye contact and expectation, the Doctor looked straight at Amina and struggled not to make it sound like a command,

Show me what you wrote down?

A slow hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a great number of folded pages. As they were handed over, the Doctor asked,

Did you keep it a secret from your parents as I asked?

She nodded her compliance and the Doctor tried to hide an evil smirk.

Excited fingers unfolded the papers and it only took a few lines to grasp the importance of what Amina heard in her head last night. It was written in pencil and quickly as if trying to keep up with fast words. She read,

Satellite 22 beta. Steady, we are losing it. Maintain the containment field. Coordinates West -17. Arming and promoting reposition test 112. Opening experimental dimension 17B. Frequency incompatibility. Closing gate 17B.

The rest of the papers were a long series of what to an untrained eye were simply random numbers. But not to Doctor Jorden. She looked across the desk at innocent eyes and although excited on the inside, managed to sound mundane.

Well, there certainly doesn’t appear to be any great help here does there? Let’s forget about this experiment for now and continue with the session shall we?

Amina nodded her agreement.

A short while later, the Doctor again stood at her big office window looking down onto Maple Street. Through the heavy rain she saw Amina and her mother get into a car, turn on the windshield wipers and drive away. When the car turned and disappeared up Second Avenue, she butted her cigarette and returned to her desk. She reached for the folder on the desk and stared at the read-outs Amanda had given her. She then compared them to the notes that the people up in the Factory had sent to her this morning. By comparison they were almost identical.

‘Satellite 22 beta. Steady, we are losing it. Maintain the field. Coordinates West -17. Arming and promoting reposition test 112. Opening experimental dimension 17B. Frequency incompatibility. Closing gate 17B’.

There then followed a long series of numbers that were out of sync but was excused as coming too fast for Amina to jot down correctly.

She reached for her cell phone and again stabbed at excessive numbers. As she coded in, guilt for the contemptible deed she was now a part of returned. This would be her third report, two boys and now Amina. Although knowing what was going to happen to Amina was regretful, a bulging bank account managed to tip the scales of guilt. When the other end answered, she blandly reported,

I have another one for you. Her brain wave frequencies are in sync to the frequencies your laboratory is transmitting. The numbers matched last night’s readouts.

After reporting Amina’s name and address, she added,

She is young and naïve. The puppy dog ploy should work.

She finished with,

You know my account number.

Chapter 3

Two days later, As usual, Amina was walking home from school and as always passed an alley steeply walled by brick walls on both sides. As she did, she heard the whimper of a puppy dog somewhere up in the alley. Although her kind heart thought it was strange and out of place, she did not take the time to investigate. It was time to get home and do the chores. Continuing along the street, she looked ahead and saw an old woman trying to pin something to a wooden telephone pole.

As she approached, she saw the woman was symbolic of a doting grandmother complete with rosy red cheeks. A kerchief covered gray hair. Black rimmed glasses just like hers were in danger of slipping off a boney nose. She saw the old woman was struggling to pin a picture of a puppy dog to the pole. Beneath the picture were the words, ‘Please help me find my puppy.’ Although Amina was in a hurry to get home, she was nevertheless compelled to stop and help the old woman. Pointing to the alley just down the block, she reported,

Just now I heard a puppy whimper in that alley over there.

A dishonest act of joy came over the old woman’s face and false kind eyes pleaded,

I’m an old woman, would you be so kind as to come into the alley and find him with me?

Amina’s naiveté to the dangers of life failed to see the danger and wanted to help but there was still the pressing need to get home on time. She regretfully said,

I’m sorry but I can’t. I have to get home.

The old woman adjusted her black rimmed glasses and sweetly countered,

Not to worry. I have a car and can drive you home.

Seeing that a solution had been reached, Amina gladly nodded her willingness to help.

When walking into the alley and looking deep into it, far ahead was a wire fence blocking the way. It was clear that if there were a lost dog in here it would be spotted easily. To Amina’s delight there was a cute little puppy at the fence whimpering. She saw that it was crying and wanted to be picked up. Again, Amina’s innocence failed to see the danger. She did not question why the puppy was tied to the fence. With the old woman cuddling her puppy and Amina feeling good that she was able to help, both walked out of the alley.

Down the street, a black Cadillac Escalade slowly turned a corner onto Elm Street and stopped beside them. The old woman said,

As promised, if you help me I will drive you home.

Impressed to see such an expensive car, Amina was very pleased to scamper into the back seat. She slid over to make room for the old woman who suddenly seemed rather agile getting in next to her. Making sure that both were secure in the car, the driver turned around to look at Amina. She noticed that he had blond hair and blue eyes. The old lady said to the driver,

Hanz, I promised Amina that I would drive her home. Would you be so kind?

Hanz nodded and drove away. It never occurred to Amina that the sweet old lady knew her name or how it was that the driver already knew where she lived.

While sitting proud and holding the puppy, suddenly Amina smelled a pungent odor. Because she thought it strange, she turned to the old woman who was holding a small vial. Amina asked,

What’s that liquid? How come you are pouring it onto a rag?

Considering what was going to happen, the old woman sweetly grinned and said,

Why it’s just something to make you go to sleep.

Amina’s last thought was why the nice lady wanted the dog to go to sleep.

Chapter 4

A month after poor Amina Green was abducted and four thousand miles away from Twin Rivers was a west coast city named Lexington. It was a beautiful city with mountains to the east and the Pacific Ocean lapping at its shores to the west. Its main economy was shipping and fishing. It was also where Gary Albright lived.

Although for different reasons, Gary was also an odd child. By the time he was twelve he had already walked on the moon, run into a burning building to save three children from a fiery death and killed a grizzly bear with only a small hunting knife. He had already lived in the harshest jungle surviving only on grubs and insects. Another time he was lavishly catered to in the great palaces of Europe. Gary was the type of boy who preferred the joys of his imagination, shunning the severity of reality.

On the other side of his imagination, the harsh side of reality, Gary was a timid boy who mostly walked with eyes to the ground as if mesmerized by the pacing of his feet. His reclusive behavior, small stature, red hair and freckles greatly added to his isolation in school. More often than not, he sat at his desk staring blank eyed into the voids of nothing. His teacher wondered what adventures he was involved with today. He certainly was not attentive to the lessons.

Outside, at recess and lunch he sat alone watching other children play. In his imagination, his better world, he defiantly dared the school bully once again push him to the ground. Although his name was Albright, the children started calling him Never-bright. Such hounding was the principle reason Gary lived in his imagination. It was a good place to hide.

After school, as always, Gary slowly walked five blocks home and always alone. His house was in the middle of the block and indistinct from the other homes. All were Veteran Housing project houses built in the true style of a ‘cookie cutter’. Over the years, some had been remodelled and even added to but largely there was no mistaking the original design. Gary’s house was one of the few that had never been remodelled.

The front door key was on a string around his neck. Unlocking the door he entered a lonely house. As always on a school day he tossed his backpack on the living room floor, turned on the TV, sat on the couch and started playing his video games. They were the kinder side to his lonely existence. Because his mother worked late, there was no set supper time. Before going to work, she prepared a sparse meal for him and put it in the fridge. Gary ate when he was hungry. By this time he was adept at using the microwave to heat whatever was on the plate.

Since there was nobody around demanding his attentiveness to bedtime or brushing his teeth, Gary often ignored those amenities. Many times an exhausted mother came home from work at ten o’clock at night to find Gary still on the couch lost to the intensity and rigors of his reality, the video games. All his drained mother could muster was a harsh reminder that he was now the man of the house and she expected better things of him.

By either his choice or mother’s demand, once in bed Gary remained deeply lost in his preferred world. In a dark room with eyes wide open, on the screen of his imagination he fought fiery dragons and won battles in his spaceship against aliens determined to take over the world. His bravery and cunning had many times saved the world from a cruel fate.

By nature and instinct, when one finds a friendlier place to live than the harshness of reality, one tends to stay in that better place as long as possible. By faulty reasoning, a naïve person soon falls into the trap of preferring the better place. Gary often had trouble separating where his mind wandered off and where he really was. Sometimes he would strut through the school halls with head held high exhibiting the gallantry of a hero. However, his peers only saw the posture and swagger as proof of his peculiarity. It was proof that there was something very odd about him.

Yet, Gary was not always living inside his fanciful world. He had a real and tangible interest. Every Saturday morning, when his mom was still asleep, he would sneak out of the house and pull his bike out of the backyard shed. It was a one mile bike ride to the mall but he knew the way. In the mall was a small electronics repair shop called Mario’s TV and Radio Repair. Mario was a kindly old man, bald, stocky with thick glasses and the mirror image of a friendly old man. Having no sons to pass his business onto, he took to heart Gary’s interest in electronic components. Whenever he saw Gary walk into his store he knew what he was after.

When seeing Gary, Mario reached behind the counter and placed a paper bag on it saying,

Here are some capacitors and light emitting diodes that need fixing. You can have them all.

They were all broken or blown, never to work again, or in Mario’s mind, useless junk. That was the reality of the situation. However, reality was not where Gary lived. To him this was a bag of transistors and integrated circuits needed for his secret project. As always, Gary thanked him for the treasure and eagerly raced home with it.

His bedroom desk was cluttered with ripped open computer towers, monitors with no casing, scattered electronics and most important of all, a soldering iron. This was how he often spent the weekends, soldering this to that and joining diodes to something completely unworkable. Occasionally, at no particular junction, he would connect a battery only to suffer a tingling shock or the smell of a burnt out capacitor. His proud construction was a muddle of wires and soldered circuits. It did not matter what was connected to what as long as it had electrical wires connected to something else.

Most certainly, if an electrical engineer chanced into his room and saw the conglomeration of electronics haphazardly wired together he would only shake his head and walk out. But that did not matter to Gary. In his mind, he was building whatever his fanciful imagination could conjure up. One day it was a time machine and another it was a dimensional gate to another world. In his mind, it was simply something that he enjoyed doing, making something although it was nothing.

One day in particular fate was cruel to Gary. In his mind, it was just another uneventful day wasted at school. As usual, he ate his sandwich alone and watched the other kids play baseball, a game he did not understand. It was Monday, so there was an urgency to get home and fuse together the rest of the electrical parts Mario had given him. Also, because it was Monday, his mother always came home early, so it was a task he wanted to get done before she came home and insisted on rules and chores.

With quick steps under the tall boulevard oak trees he hurried home. Only a half block away he suddenly stopped his hurried pace and stared fearfully at something ahead. This could not be good. Fear prompted him to step behind a parked car. Furtive eyes hesitantly peered above the trunk of the car to see a police car parked in front of his house and an officer standing at his front door. The officer again pressed the doorbell and waited. With the conscience and guilt of most youth, Gary wondered what he had done wrong.

The experience of a fertile imagination had taught him to stay hidden and wait it out. There was nobody home so obviously the officer would soon give up and leave. Suddenly a voice from behind jolted him alert.

Are you Gary Albright?

He snapped around to see a woman police officer looming over him. There was sternness about her. Her hair was done up in a tight bun in the same manner as the school librarian and he didn’t like her either. Slow eyes lowered to the gun at her belt. Running was not an option. A strict voice again asked,

I asked you a question. Are you Gary Albright?

He nodded and in a much softer tone she said,

I will need you to come to the police car with me.

Slow feet walked him to the police car with the officer right beside him. Mrs. Carver stood across the street looking at him with a most forlorn expression while shaking her head.

After his mother’s funeral and two weeks in the care of Emergency Family Services, there was no hope for Gary Albright. Miss Worthington was a young lady and the child care worker handling his case. She was new to Family Services and still fortified with energy and kindness to help woeful children. She had spent many days searching for relatives who could take Gary in. In one of Gary’s many interviews with Miss Worthington she asked him,

I have no record of your dad. Do you ever see him? Do you know where he is?

As if confused about the question, as in all other interviews, Gary sat draped in despondency. It eventually came to him that he now had no mother. Regarding the question about his dad, he answered honestly, albeit slowly.

Mom said that I never had a dad.

Curious, she persisted,

So you have never seen him, even maybe on your birthday?

A slow shake of his head produced a sad reply.

No. Mom said I was lucky that I never knew him.

Miss Worthington’s persistent search finally located a relative living on the other side of the continent. Her name was Ruth Albright, his grandmother on his mother’s side. At first, Ruth Albright had objected to taking in a twelve year old boy. In addition, it was a grandson that she had only seen when he was born. Now, with her husband dead and living alone, it would be too much of a financial burden and strain on an old lady to take on such a massive responsibility. As she was the only located relative, with Miss Worthington’s persistence and promise of financial assistance, Ruth reluctantly agree to take on what she was sure would be a great concern and disruption to her life.

Chapter 5

A few days later, Gary found himself on an airplane flying to Twin Rivers to live with an old woman he had never met. Miss Worthington sat beside him offering comfort and assurances that everything would be all right. Sitting on the airplane, heavily draped in despondency and a great feelings of desertion, Gary absently looked out the window and down on a floor of thick clouds denying him a view of his next life.

Many times while looking out into the horizon, he tried to imagine flying saucers coming from the stars and teleporting him away to a much kinder fate. He would rather live on another planet than where he was being shipped off to. However, and strangely for him, he could no longer conjure up such an imaginative image. There was no relief or rescue coming from his overacted mind. Like his mother’s life, it was as if his coveted imagination had cruelly ended. The shock of his mother being killed introduced an unforgiving reality to his world. What was going to happen to Gary in Twin Rivers left no room for childish dreams. The winds of fate had picked up Gary and blown him four thousand miles from his comfort zone.

All Gary knew of his grandmother was that he had one. He had seen her picture on mother’s dresser holding a baby, Gary’s mother. When asking where his grandmother lived, mom seemed sad to say that she lived far away. Because of his mother’s despondency at missing her mother, Gary had promised that he would never move far away. He would never make his mom cry because she missed him. But now it was her departure that made him cry.

When the airplane descended on Twin Rivers, Gary looked out the window and saw the convergence of the two rivers, the Great Swanson and Copper River joining into one greater river. It was something that didn’t interest him and he could care less about. Little did he suspect how influential and dangerous that river would be in his new life.

After a long cab ride through town, and eventually along Jasper Street, they arrived at what Gary had no trouble believing must be a haunted house. It