The Gatherers

By Craig Markley

Never give up your dream, especially if it is a book, what seems so far away; isnt.
C. Markley

Detective Nick Gosch and his partner Gus Kaminiski fight crime on a daily basis in New York City, but this day is different than the rest. A routine missing child case puts Nick in a tailspin as he flashes back to the disappearance of his own little sister years before. He soon finds a pattern: recent missing children were taken near military bases.

Nick feels this cant be coincidence, so he and Gus question military authorities to see if they can turn up any clues. They interview several high-ranking officials at several military bases but come up dry. Months pass with no new leads, and Nick is about to give up when a threatening note arrives, warning him off further investigation.

The note only makes Nick hungrier for the truth, but his prodding leads to his abduction by hooded men who take him to an undisclosed location. There, he meets Agent Keasling, a human hybrid with reptile eyes. Despite increased threats, Nick proceeds with the case in the hopes of finding all the lost children of the city, including his precious sister.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491752777

Craig Markley

Craig Markley is a science fiction enthusiast with a BA in history from Ashford University. He co-starred in a music video entitled “Soldier’s Light.” He lives with his wife and daughter in Little Rock, Arkansas.

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THE GATHERERS

Copyright © 2014 Craig Markley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5278-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5279-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-5277-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014920264

iUniverse rev. date: 11/13/2014

Contents

Acknowledgments

Part 1:    Abduction

Snake-eyes

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

Part 2:    The Quest

Black, Black Ops

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

Part 3:    Hive

The Red Queen Must Die

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

Part 4:    H-hour

Blood and Ichor—Sleep, My Pets

chapter 1

chapter 2

I would like to dedicate this book to Rheanna, my daughter.

Always Lead from the Front

Acknowledgments

A special thanks to Mr. Jim Long, for all your hard work. You helped make this possible.

To my Dad, who read my book and judged not, thanks for believing in me.

To my wife, thank you for your help, your many hours of proof-reading, your devotion to helping me with my book and for always keeping me on track.

Part 1:

ABDUCTION

Snake-eyes

chapter 1

FIVE-YEAR-OLD NICK GOSCH (NICKY, TO his parents) is dreaming again, at least he thinks he is. He is sitting straight up in his backyard sandbox, eyes wide, staring at something a few feet in front of him. It is an auroral vision, murky and distorted, like looking through a grimy, rain-streaked window.

What he sees is a piece of jewelry, a charm for a charm bracelet, but this one is hanging from the fine, gold chain of a necklace suspended in midair. The charm once belonged to his six-year-old sister, Lucy, given to her by her mother who in turn received it passed down from her mother.

The charm depicts the white, mountain-flower, edelweiss, set in a field of deep blue enamel. At the flower’s center are six, tiny pale-yellow florets. Lucy once told him that the flower-charm would protect her as long as she wore it.

It didn’t.

_____________________________________

Nick, circling the drain toward retirement, is a precinct detective in New York City working out of Missing Persons. At 58, he’s more than just good at his job, he’s damned uncanny about solving cases. Due to their successes, the MP squad has a higher budget than most. Their investigations often required travel within New York, as well as to other states.

But, he never found Lucy. No sir. No one has ever found his sister. She would have been 59 this month. He sighs.

Nick, you okay? asked Gus.

Shaking his head to clear it, he turned to his partner.

Fine, Gus, Nick replied. Just woolgathering.

Gus Kaminski is a muscular behemoth at six four with an expansive pot straining the belt holding up his charcoal Haggars, an ever-present, unlit cigar protruding from his clenched jaws.

Nicky, go take a break, Gus said. I got this. Gus never used the diminutive form of Nick’s name unless he was worried.

Told you, I’m good, Nick replied, but thanks, he added, softening the unintended snap.

They are at the smallish apartment of a missing little girl, the parents frantic. Gus questions the mother while Nick has a look around the living room. Nick overhears the mother saying that her six-year-old Claire is ‘…so smart and beautiful. Who could ever do such a thing?’ Nick registers this, but doesn’t yet make the connection. Later, he will.

Nick approaches a tow-headed boy, Claire’s little brother, and sits beside him on the couch. The boy is sobbing, a snot-bubble forming at one nostril.

Hi, son, I’m Nick. What’s your name?

J-Johnny, the boy said between sobs.

Can I ask how old you are, Johnny?

Five. Johnny held up five fingers for Nick.

Wow, five huh? You’ll be starting first grade in another year.

I don’t want to go to school. Not without Claire. I was gonna ride the bus with Claire. Johnny hung his head, light-blond hair falling over his eyes; his breathing held a leftover hitch from all the crying.

We’ll find your sister, Johnny. We’ll do whatever it takes, and find her.

You promise?

I promise. On my honor, Nick said. He knew better than to make promises like that. Not finding the girl would tear the boy apart. But he made a vow just now, not only to Johnny, but to his own lost sister. The boy had struck a chord, and he felt his throat tighten.

Johnny raised his sorrowful head and looked Nick in the eyes. Are you a police mans?

Nick returned the look. Yes, he said.

Good, said the boy, his lips set in a firm, thin line.

_____________________________________

The two detectives crawled into the unmarked Crown Vic after first rolling the front windows down and turning on the air conditioner. Both removed their suit coats, throwing them onto the back seat.

You believe this heat? said Gus, wiping his brow with his shirtsleeve.

Huh? Oh, yeah, must be global warming, Nick said.

Okay, what’s going on, partner? as if I didn’t know. Kid got to you, right? Whole case got to you, I bet.

Being cop partners is a lot like being married, and has the same ups and downs, shared feelings and emotions, likes, dislikes, hates and compassions, along with a bit of intuition and ESP. Nick and Gus had been together almost from the beginning—the Academy—though Gus was about ten years younger. Nick, not in truth a ladder climber, nevertheless ascended the rungs a tad faster than Gus. But both were Lieutenants now, neither much interested in higher rank—or deskwork. They were street panthers, masters of their domain, and after all the grinding years, you would expect them to be top dogs.

Nick, behind the wheel, looked over at Gus. He wasn’t smiling now. Nick was born with the face of a Golden Retriever; it could light up completely when he was happy, show teeth when angry or cornered, and display the eyes of Jesus at Gethsemane when sad. Gus was seeing the latter face.

Yeah, said Nick.

Yeah what?

All of the above. Think you know me pretty well, huh?

You asshole. Of course I know you, Gus said. You think I spent years riding in this stinking car looking at your ugly puss day after day and not know you? Christ. I can smell it on you: fear—and worry. Get it out of your system, or this car ain’t goin’ anywhere.

Nick sighed, leaning far back in his seat, and closed his eyes.

"It’s not just the boy, though that’s part of it. He reminds me of me, way back …so long ago. I fear for my sist—his sister. I promised him we’d find her, and now I’m worried that we won’t. What a fucking mess. All these abductions. What’s happening, Gus? Are the psychos taking over, or are we just getting old?"

"Ha. You’re getting old. Me, I’m still the fine, young stud of a Polack that I always was."

Nick chuckles.

Seriously, Gus continued, I understand about the boy, and I understand about your sister and all the other kids that have been taken. But what can we do besides work hard and use our brains? As much as we’d like to, we can’t save them all.

Yeah, I know that. Listen, Gus, I was thinking…

Oh shit, here it comes.

…that there’s something hinky about the abductions. I’m starting to feel a pattern.

You’re crazy, Nick. The abductions are all over the map. Serials stay local, usually within a few hundred miles of where they call home. These snatchings are just the work of random pervs and other oozing sores.

I don’t know, Gus. I think this might be bigger—more organized— than that.

Bullshit.

Let me think about it. I need to mull this over.

With that, Nick started the car.

_____________________________________

chapter 2

NICK IS SITTING IN A serviceable (Salvation Army) recliner in the living room of his austere walk-up. The side-table displays a framed photo of a young woman (currently turned to the wall), two bottles of scotch (one empty) and a full ashtray.

He is staring at the wall opposite his chair. On the wall is a large map of the U.S. dotted with numerous pushpins, each depicting a child abduction. He is focused. This is his obsession. This is what he does—all he does—when not signed in at the job.

Among the many pins is one near the Air Force base where his father had worked, and where Lucy went missing. Tacked to the map with the pin is Lucy’s photo from 1954.

Nick suddenly jumps up and goes to the map.

Yesss, he says.

_____________________________________

In the squad room the following morning, Gus tosses a thin file folder onto Nick’s desk.

Another one, Nick. Seven-year-old boy this time. Folder was on my desk when I came in. It’s pretty scanty, but the Massachusetts dicks are still working on it. Wanna take a ride up there?

You kidding? Call those guys and tell them we’re on our way while I scan this file. Oh, and ask them if there’s a military base nearby.

Why?

Not sure yet.

Oh brother. Here we go.

_____________________________________

Nick asked Gus to drive while he read the file. The boy’s name was Bobby. He noted that the father saw a white, panel truck accelerating south from the abduction scene. That’s something new, he thought. Or is it? He made a mental note to find out when he got back the squad.

He also saw that Gus had added a notation indicating an Air Force base about eight miles to the north of the kidnapping site. Where my father worked.

_____________________________________

They arrived at the home around noon. Gus talked with the father, while Nick questioned the mother.

Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Nick Gosch with the Missing Person’s Bureau in the City. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.

Sure, of course, she said. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

Thank you; I’ll try to keep it short. The preliminary report says that your husband saw vehicle driving away. Did you see anything?

No, my husband got up before me. He went to wake Bobby for school, when he saw that he wasn’t in his room. He looked out the front door thinking that Bobby was already waiting for the school bus when he saw the car—er, van—driving away.

Could he see Bobby in the Van?

She shook her head. He said there were no side windows.

Panel truck.

Did you or your husband ever see this van before?

No, I don’t think so.

Okay. Can you tell me if Bobby had any problems with kids at school, you know, bullying? Any trouble with his grades?

Oh, heavens no. Bobby is a good boy. He’s friendly and everybody likes him. And oh so smart. The school had him take the testing for Mensa, and we found out that he’s far above genius level.

Thanks very much for your time, and try not to worry, we are working hard on this. We’ll keep you posted.

_____________________________________

Back at the office and near end-of-shift, Nick requested, and received, copies of the files for the latest abductees. He already had copies at home of files for kidnaping victims going back several decades.

Seeing that Gus had already left, he switched his own desk light off and headed for home.

_____________________________________

Not wanting to waste time, he threw his jacket on the recliner and went immediately to the map, gathering up the mass of folders and piling them on the floor, oldest to newest.

Leafing through the folders one at a time, he started pulling pushpins of missing kids who he saw were of average intelligence and grades. A few of these he had to make an educated guess based on other file information, such as hobbies, school activities and teacher comments.

Then, Nick goes to the kitchen table and fires up his laptop. He uses Google to map all the major military bases in the U.S., and prints out the data.

Back at the map he placed red pins at the locations of the military installations.

When he finally finished, it was near one in the morning.

He didn’t have to stand back very far to observe a pattern. It was right there, popping out at him. All the remaining victim pins were within 20 miles of a military base, several of them in clusters. Bingo.

Excited, he phoned Gus at home, heedless of the time.

Nick? This better be an emergency. You better be fucking dyin’. Do you know what time it is?

Yeah. It’s oh one-hundred. Sorry.

Gus sighs. Okay, shoot.

Can you come over here, Gus?

Right now?

Yes, right now. It’s important; it relates to what we were talking about regarding a pattern to the abductions.

Okay, give me twenty minutes. Get the coffee ready.

_____________________________________

Nick heard a shave-and-a-haircut knock on his door and let Gus in.

All right, buddy, coffee first, and then you can give me the pitch, said Gus. Got any donuts?

No, and you don’t need any, big guy.

I resemble that remark, laughed Gus. He could see that Nick was in high spirits.

Come over here and look at this map. Tell me what you see.

I see a guy who’s got way too much time on his hands, said Gus.

C’mon, get serious.

I see white pins near the red pins. Some of the white pins are clustered around some of the red pins; some red ones have more clusters than others. And most of the red pins are in the east.

The red pins are military bases, Nick said.

And the white pins?

The white pins are sites of child kidnappings.

So what? Gus asked. "When I was here before, this map was full of pushpins."

I took out all the pins of victims who weren’t exceptionally smart kids. What white pins you see are what’s left over—the geniuses.

Okay….

All the white pins are within twenty miles of a military base.

Yeah ….

"God and the Man Jesus! Do I have to rub your nose in it? If you look through the case files going back to the 50’s—and I have—you’ll see that in those cases where a witness saw a vehicle, the vehicle was always headed away from a military base. I think that the vans—they were almost always vans—headed away from the base to throw anyone off the trail, and then they would circle back to the base once clear of the area."

Pretty thin. Shit, I dunno. So, you think the military is involved then? Gus asked.

It sure points to them, but I can’t figure out how they’d be connected.

So what about all the white pins you pulled out?

They’re random, all over the map. I was never able to see a pattern. Then, when I learned about the intelligent kids from our last two cases, something clicked. And here we are.

Maybe, Gus said. Maybe. Gotta admit though, you’re usually pretty savvy when it comes to this kind of stuff.

You’re tired, that’s all. Think about it, that’s all I ask.

Okay.

Listen, Gus. You want to take a trip with me tomorr—today? Visit one these bases and see what we can find out? What can it hurt? I’ll drive; you can sleep on the way.

I’m game, said Gus, yawning.

Go rack out on the couch. No use you going back home now. I’ll wake you at seven.

_____________________________________

They left at a little before eight. Nick drove, as promised.

Before they got on the ramp for I95 north, Gus motioned for Nick to pull up to the curb. I’m gonna go into the bodega; get us some coffee and donuts. Be right back.

Get me a pack of smokes, wouldya? Here’s a ten-spot

Keep your money. Salem’s?

Yep, thanks.

Gus returned, and got settled in, handing a coffee to Nick. Where we goin’ anyway?

An Air Forces base in Mass. I know a guy there. Name of Worthing; he’s a colonel in Intel now. Might be worth a shot? I used to know him from when my Dad worked there; I’m surprised he hasn’t retired yet. It’s where I grew up. We sort of kept in touch.

Hey, Nick, Gus said, changing the subject. In that hovel you call an apartment, I saw you’ve got Margie’s picture turned around.

Yeah, what’s it to you? That’s old news.

Well, you’ve still got the picture. You coulda just threw it away.

Let it go, big guy.

Ooh, touchy. Still feel the flame burning, don’t you? When are you going to re-marry her, dawg?

I swear, you are the most exasperating person I ever met. And ‘dawg’? Really? You been hanging around Intake and Booking too much.

_____________________________________

They drive up to the gate. We’re here, Gus. Wakey-wakey.

Gus stretches with a huge yawn. I’m up.

Nick stops at the guard post, and two MP’s approach the car.

ID’s? the nearest guard said, while the other guard inspected the underside of the car with a mirror on a long pole.

They showed him their creds.

You’ll have to check your weapons here. You’ll get them and your ID’s back when you leave.

They turned over their holstered guns to the guard.

What is your business here today?

We’re here to see Col. Worthing.

Do you have an appointment?

No, but he knows me.

Okay, let me check, he said, as he went into the booth and picked up the phone.

Man, security’s tight, Gus said. That guy’s so anally puckered I’ll bet he takes laxatives every day.

Yeah, things got real intense since 9/11.

The guard hung