September 30, 1996.
My healing process was slow this time, whoever dug the two slugs out of me was good, not perfect but still good enough that the pills took away most of the pain.
Work wasn’t happy, my section chief gave me leave with pay. It wasn’t every day your lead tactical agent showed up to work with two fresh bullet wounds and no explanation. I had been given a desk for the next six months pending investigation, two suits following my every move, they wanted me to dress for the office, fuck that, my suits didn’t fit anymore anyway.
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| Knoxville, Tennessee |
The email arrived, another night at the Opera, I didn’t expect to receive one, not after the last time, two gunshots thanks to captain asshole Jason, plugging Joshua personally. Damn Joshua, I still see the look on his face, he was stunned, shocked yet his eyes were clear, they follow me everywhere.
McGee Tyson Airport, Knoxville Tennessee, wonderful, dress code, suit. Fuck, loose as hell, I could wear three vests underneath to fill it out.
I Spotted Jasper at the airport lounge, he looked the same, thank Christ, last time I saw him, he was bleeding out at the emergency room entrance.I shook his hand, he knew that I couldn’t do more than I did, he thanked me in his own way, a silent nod.
Knight, the big black guy, what the fuck was he doing here, last time I saw him, I was pointing my 9mm at his cell.He looked us up and down, making a remark about my loose suit and my beard that I had let go.
Jasper’s phone rang. Jason, wanting us to rent a car and meet him at the desk of the car rental.
I used the fake ID I had traveled under, full kit, driver’s license, concealed carry permit, the works, plus my snub Colt 357 that was to the eye, perfectly fine, but an untraceable piece.
Jason arrived at the desk, looking to be back to his best, suit and tie, clean shaven, and seemingly back in control. I know he shot me, twice, but I know he had to. Bastard.
In the car, Jason explained that we were meeting a friendly, SAC Derringer at the local FBI field office. He would have the specifics of the opera for us.
The drive didn’t take long, Jason also explaining to the team, I was to be first man in or last man in. He knew the last op had left a mark, a volatile mark. It was clear cut, if I point a weapon at anyone in the team, I was to be put down, hard. To my surprise, no one batted an eyelid, they were all fine with it, it’s nice to be valued.
We arrived at the field office, asking for Derringer, we were ushered through the entrance, down an elevator and into a room set up for us in the basement. Derringer, a standard looking SAC, a middle aged man, greying moustache and middle stages of a gut.Sitting us in the folding chairs set for us, a local teenage of Groversville, one William Spivey stands accused of possessing abilities beyond that of a regular man. This teen had held up six gas stations in the past few days, destroying a counter with his bare hands, taking aspirin and food at every location, however his last stop, he killed the clerk, again with his bare hands. We walked down the corridor of the basement, an armed agent standing guard at one of the doors, his loaded Colt M4 grasped in his hands. Nodding at us as we passed.
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| SAC Derringer |
Derringer sat us in another room in front of a television. As the CCTV footage started, Jason halted the images. Asking me to step away, knowing that seeing these sorts of things could cause a reaction. I was annoyed to say the least, but the last thing I needed was to lose it in a basement with God knows how many agents happy to drop me. I stood back by the door as the rest watched the flickering screen.
As the tape ended, Jason signaled me back over, explaining that the kid had decapitated the clerk with a punch, like something out of a horror movie, a bad horror movie.
Derringer continued, FBI stopped him after six gas stations in three days, a state trooper winged him with a 12g slug, Spivey approached ,bent the barrel of the shotgun, about to strike when the FBI agent on scene dropped him with three rounds to the torso. The kid was then cuffed and brought in, winged by a slug, three rounds to the torso, still breathing, still able to function.
The guard on the door in the hallway was there for a reason, Spivey was inside.
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| Bill Ray Spivey |
We moved again to another room along the corridor, a standard interrogation room with mirrored glass. On the other side, another agent with armed the same way as the guard on the door, at the table, a young man was chained and bound, leg irons, cuffed to the table, the floor, everywhere possible. The teen, Spivey, his heavy metal shirt still showing the bullet holes, the sight of bandages underneath. How was this kid alive?
Derringer continued his evaluation, eight days ago, Spivey was reported missing, six days ago, he shows up at home, he remains at home in bed, local doctor called, chronic pain reported, large appetite, no bodily functions regarding stool or urine.
September 26th, Parents report a fit of some kind, father calls the doctor while the father attempts to restrain, Spivey punches clean through his father’s chest, causing instant death, disappears again, Gas station robberies commence.
Knight took point on the line of questioning surrounding the shooting, angling at the devastation caused by a 12g slug, if the shot had hit centre mass, nothing comes back from that. Yet the three centre mass shots from a government issue 40 calibre handgun can drop anything, yet this kid was still kicking.
The next issue raised to us by Derringer, the boy showed signs of extensive surgery that was nearly undetectable to the naked eye. The medical examiner discovered the boys limbs showed tissue unknown to the human anatomy. The entirety of the muscle tissue of the arms and legs had been replaced with some sort of organic tissue of unknown origin. How could this be possible, the kid was missing for two days, yet no signs of swelling or healing, the scars so faint as if they were done decades ago.
Jason insisted on interviewing the kid. I stood back in the viewing room, I didn’t need to see Jason get his head punched in, even though the sight would be nice after the bastard shot me twice.
I leaned against the wall with the kid out of my view, all I could hear was his groaning of hunger and pain, he was a dead end, nothing new to report there. All Jason walked away with was the name of the girlfriend, Jane Allen and her address, all already in the file.
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| Sheriff Dan Oakley |
Dan Oakley was the local Sherriff, Derringer told us he was a small town Sheriff, expect a small town mentality, especially in a town that was drawing attention to itself by way of UFO sightings, lights in the sky and reports of disappearing citizens.
Derringer arranged two vehicles for us downstairs, fake agency ID’s, two FBI for Jason and Knight, two DEA for me and Jasper, we were going to Groversville as agents, a little close to home for me though.
There was a Green box for us at Metro Cell Storage in Knoxville, it was our first stop, well Jasper and I had a quick detour to Wallmart, DEA in suits would be strange, both of us swapping it out for civilian clothes.
Arriving at the Greenbox, the first thing that caught our eye was a large tractor in the centre of the unit, dusty and broken, of little help to anyone without at least a weeks worth of Mechinal repair. Walking around the green box, the first thing that caught my eye, two rifles, AKs, AK-74 and AK-74U, Jasper appeared with a guitar case to pack them in. Jason picked up a Glock 22 pistol, Jasper also picked up a worn Colt 1911 .45ACP. Jason also pocketed a flare gun, Knight, already packing a Beretta 9mm found a box of full metal jacket rounds for it, an easy pick up. I couldn’t resist a photo on the wall, the famous JFK shaking hands with an alien, something to amuse the local nut jobs. Knight was also perusing a book ‘Wilderness Navigation’, interesting. A visa card with a note stating $100 lay near the JFK photo, I took that too, no harm in spending free money, considering these AK’s and mags were caked in dried mud, the Colt was not much better. A good clean was in order, kits usually going for $50 for the good stuff anyway.
Jasper was also carrying a small wooden box to the car, I stopped him to ask the contents when he threw a grenade at me, catching it and feeling slightly shocked, he quickly told me it was a box of dummy grenades.
Satisfied with our acquired munitions and utilities we stopped at a café outside Knoxville, Jason wasn’t a fan of going in strong, whatever this was, if it required firepower, he doubted two rifles and some pistols would do the job. This was going to be a bug hunt.
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| Groversville, Main St |
As we approached Groversville, the local radio station flared with local alien abduction stories and talk back radio. Jasper couldn’t resist, he called in regarding a water plant issue, unsatisfied as his phone cut out from bad service coverage.
As we hit Highway 135, the exit to Groversville appeared, the town was in a valley, surrounded by rural farming lands and brush, cell phone coverage here was going to be a nightmare.
It was 7pm when we hit the Sheriff’s department, Betty, the receptionist greeted us and called for the Sheriff. Oakley appeared, flanked by his deputy, Glenn Patterson, a rake of a man, looked like a stiff breeze would send him away with the tumbleweeds. Jason took point, two FBI and two DEA in town, the Sheriff was convinced there was no drug involvement, rolling his eyes at every question Jasper or I asked.
We got the run down, Richard Spivey, deceased, Angel Spivey, mortified, Jane Allen, absent. Top shelf detective work in this hick town.
Oakley also reported he had seen lights in the sky, Betty too. This was going to be a shit assignment. We headed to the only hotel in town, Merles Shut Eye, it was alright in a low budget kind of way. Two room with two single beds. Knight had is suspicions of everyone, typical really, he was a smart guy, Jason wanted to treat everything like a kidnapping, running that angle would get us in deeper with the Sherriff Department, especially if Oakley could take the credit.
Jasper pulled out a map of the area, mapping out the locations of everything, Spivey’s house, the girlfriends house, point of disappearance, every location in town of interest. It wasn’t a busy map.
We needed to get the lay of the land, Jasper and I were heading to Merle’s Country Bunker, the local tavern, Jason and Knight were going to check out the local diner.
Inside it was easy to see that the locals had no issue making us feel uncomfortable. After a few rounds of pool, Jasper started talking to some of the local ladies, there was nothing here, no information, an hour of talking yielded nothing, just local gossip.
After a while, my watch dictated it was time to meet up for a drive to the girlfriend’s house. We met Jason and Knight on the road, the diner was the same, no real information, nothing to go off.
The drive was quick, even though were out in the farm lands, the plan was simple, Jason and Knight would go in, suited up, it made sense. Jasper and I were on standby in the car, if there was anything troubling, we were backup.
After a few minutes, Jasper’s phone rang, Jason wanted us to check out the barn.
The moon was bright, bright enough for us to find our way to the back of the property and to the barn entrance, locked, heavy padlock. I had no choice, I kicked the door, enough to really make it crack. A dog started barking from somewhere in the house, there was no time for a slow and steady entry, Jasper and I needed to hide. Pulling our side arms, we entered the darkened barn, closing the door behind us.
After a few moments, a woman appeared on the porch with a barking dog, I could just make her out through the cracks in the wooden wall planks. Finally she takes the dog back inside.
Jasper and I use our torches to begin a full search. Nothing, empty.
Nothing in the loft, nothing around the rusted tractor and cages, nothing hidden. Jasper called Jason and gave the all clear. Jasper and I took off, closing the door, the padlock swinging on the door.
As we got back to the car, Jasper’s phone rang again, Jason of course. Something was not right at the house, the husband was working late at the town hall, the wife was somewhat absent minded, the daughter was missing, no one has seen her in at least 24 hours.
Jason’s orders, go to town hall, have a look to see if the story checks out, looking for a gold Caddy.
Jasper took the wheel. After another 20 minutes, we rolled up on the parking lot for the town hall building. It was here, eight cars in total, one classic Cadillac in the ugliest gold you could lay your eyes on. The orange glow of the street lights making it look even more repulsive. Who destroys American classics to this degree. The guy must be an asshole.
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| Town hall |
Jasper and I approached the front steps, banging on the large glass doors revealing an empty foyer, dim lighting shining from some lamps lit in a distant room.
No answer came, we made our way around the side of the building, again no answer at the side door. The only sound we could here was a siren singing on the road, getting closer.
Shining his flashlight on us as we moved across the parking lot, the Sherriff starting talking, demanding to know what we were doing here. I gave him every legitimate reason, by the book, official cause and reasons for investigation.
This was the true asshole, every notion I presented was repeated back to me in Hicksville language. After a few minutes of his bullshit, literally bullshit leaking from his mouth from his brain that reflected an argumentative 10 year old. I could feel my fists clenching, just a few steps closer, only a few and his teeth would be all over that Cadillac. Jasper grabbed me by the shoulder, telling the Sherriff we would withdraw.
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| Breaking down the AKs |
I couldn’t help it, I drove to the tavern, bought a six pack of bud and headed back to the hotel.
Jason ushered us into his room, there was something wrong with the woman he interviewed, she was calm and lucid. She was not worried about her missing daughter, no matter how hard Knight and Jason pushed her. Nothing in this town was right, nothing at all.
I had enough. I was done for the night and made my way to my room, snapped the first Bud, and began the first field strip and clean of the pistols. The 45 was the easiest, the Glock simpler still. The AK’s were crusted in dirt; they were going to take some work. Four Buds down and one AK to go, Jasper, boots on, snoring loudly in his bed.
