Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

left a trail for his daughter or perhaps Hardy to find? If so, maybe someone had already done their research, and I’d be wasting my time regardless.

“He… my father was in Portugal.” I gave the detail up in good faith.

Hunter went rigid. “Portugal. Of course. Where?”

“I don’t know. Everything came up empty for me. I spent months there.”

“Wait, Rex. Didn’t Hardy say something in Portuguese?” Marcus asked.

He had. I repeated the word. “Estrelas. He said it twice. Then something about how Dirk can’t leave without him.”

“Interesting,” Hunter said, tapping his neatly-trimmed beard.

Marcus was on his phone, and I knew what he was doing. In all the excitement, we’d forgotten to check what the word meant.

“You don’t need that. It means stars. And also a site few are aware of.” Hunter Madison took another drink and lifted the remote from the table.

“I assume you’re one of the few?” I asked.

“I may have visited the location,” Hunter whispered as he pressed a button on the control. A discreet screen on the dark wall flashed on, momentarily blinding me. A video played, showing rough footage in black and white. “Ever heard of the Believers?”

“Isn’t that a band or something?” Marcus asked.

“No. It’s a cult,” I answered. “An old one. They don’t still exist?”

Hunter smiled, showing teeth. “Life would be much simpler if that were the case. No, the Believers are around, though perhaps with fewer members than before. Or perhaps many more. It’s difficult to tell.”

I watched the video, seeing over a hundred people as they marched through a stone corridor, each wearing a dark cloak, their faces obscured by heavy cowls.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Marcus said.

“They used to be harmless, a group of people fascinated with the stars, like so many have been since the dawn of time. They began as scientists, explorers, doctors, and”—Hunter pointed at me—“archaeologists, like yourself.”

“What happened to them?” Marcus asked as the camera tracked the last cloaked person into a circular room. Unrecognizable symbols were painted in a dark color on the floors and walls of the cavern, and the Believers circled a center pedestal where a shiny item lay unmoving.

“A man named Thomas Rembrandt joined. He was an unconventional millionaire from the south of France, carrying with him a lot of ideologies about what the Believers should be, and many followed him because of his wealth. Believe me, once you have money, it’s easy to get what you want.” He glanced at me while he said this, and I returned my gaze to the screen. There was no audio accompanying the footage, but I could almost hear the synchronous chanting as their bodies swayed back and forth.

I’d heard some of the stories from my old professor, though he always made it sound like they were seeking facts, not grasping hands and singing to old relics. This looked like something from a movie, and for a second, I wondered if Hunter Madison was having fun with us.

Marcus was freaked out. “What are they doing?”

“This item was rumored to be a link to the beings they worship. Apparently, it had nothing to do with them and was merely a depiction of an Incan god,” Hunter told him.

“How do you know so much?” I asked curiously.

His eyes shone again, but he didn’t smile as he set the remote down. “I was there. I used to be one of them.”

The video ended, and I could only gape at Hunter as he waited for me to speak. “You were one of the Believers? Did my father know that?”

He shook his head firmly. “I left them in the late seventies, a few years after Dirk and I got into business with each other. Rembrandt died, and I didn’t like the direction the group was taking. Things were growing… desperate.”

“And you think they’re still around?” I asked.

“They are… and they’re much more threatening than ever.”

I considered the men outside of El Mirador… my townhouse being broken into… the car that might be following me. “Do they know who I am?”

Marcus laughed nervously. “Why would they care who you are? You’re a prof in Boston.”

“They know you, Rex. That’s why you must accept my help. We need to find the Bridge.” Hunter’s hand continued to tremble as he reached for his drink, and I passed it to him.

“Why the urgency? If you’ve been searching for this long, what’s the rush?” I asked him. “Plus, you say you’ve visited this Estrelas before.”

“If I explain, will you consider my offer?” came his reply.

Marcus was on the edge of his seat, clearly invested in our conversation. I could tell he wanted to join forces with this rich man, if only for the romantic idea of an adventure, but seeing the chanting cloaked Believers in that footage had me worried. “I’ll contemplate it.”

“There are two reasons why I must reach the Bridge,” he started. “The Believers foretold of an age where we’d encounter visitors from another planet. They’d come from the outer reaches of the solar system and arrive at Earth: not to meet us peacefully, but to rule our kind.”

“And they encourage this?” Marcus barked.

“They’ll welcome them as part of their demented fantasy. Their minds are brainwashed, and they actually believe they’ll be rewarded for their faith and patience.”

“And you think this is related to what? The shapes near Pluto?” I asked, trying to determine if Hunter Madison was as mad as the cult he spoke against.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe the object is related, but that they do. Things are in motion here, Rex, things that will be dire to our planet if we don’t act on it.” Hunter spoke with so much passion, I instantly found myself trusting him.

“You said there were two reasons why it was imperative,” I reminded him. “That’s only one.”

“The other is my own selfish motivation.”

“Which is?”

The screen flipped off, leaving the room darker. Shadows creased his face as he leaned closer. “I’m dying.”

8

“What do you make of this?” Marcus asked when we were alone.

I