Morningstar/Alignment by Keith Trimm (people reading books txt) 📕

"This weather might be something important," Tony’s voice said emanating from the speakers in a low-key tone. Tony’s jaw started to ache as he clenched his teeth listening to himself speak. He could feel the terror in his trembling voice becoming scared with each passing moment. He could feel the panic in his own voice and now could feel what it was like to face immanent death.

Sonja noticed Tony’s behavior and came over placing her arm around him to try to make him more comfortable. Tony didn’t seem to notice with his eyes fixated on the screen, his ears glued to the speakers. Brinkman leaned back against the counter and watched Tony’s reaction feeling like he should just lay low and let this thing ride out. He was not an overly emotional man and felt it was best to not try to comfort Tony.

On the screen the images began to download at a faster pace. The device must have been programmed to read Tony’s heart rate and adjust recording speed accordingly creating more documentation of the moment of crisis. The images jumped from one area to another as Tony spun his head in all directions in a panic. The audio led them to believe that the other passengers were worried about the weather, but had no clue as to what was about to happen to them.

Then it happened in an instant, as one thunderous crash of sound distorted the speakers causing everyone in the room jump. For a second everyone was startled and Tony lost his breath as they waited for the next image to dump. What they saw shocked and amazed them.

The cabin was flooded with clear bright daylight and all signs of the storm disappeared as the sound of cabin changed and the thunder was gone. The next few images were from Tony peering outside his window at a bright blue sky and an ocean of blue water that stretched for as far as the eye could see. The clouds were high and wispy and not of the type that created the storm they had just been in a fraction of a second ago.

"The water," Sonja said. "Oh my God." She couldn’t get a grasp on what she was seeing.

The clock on the screen read three minutes twenty five seconds and counting backwards to the end of the file and of Tony’s life.

"This is it," came from the speakers as Tony started to speak. "I hope everyone at home is getting this," he continued. "It was a bolt of lightning that sent us back. I can see that now. Outside my window I can see the ocean but I can’t see anything that would cause the plane to go down. It is very clear outside." His tone changed to a very scientific almost detached manner. It was like he was the announcer of a football game and he was describing someone else other than himself running down the field. The clock now read two minutes and fifteen seconds and the passengers now seemed in bewilderment but no longer in a panic over the thunderstorm.

"I’m going to look around," he said through the speakers and the images showed his view as he stood up and walked down the aisle noticing rows and rows of people sitting in their seats watching him.

"Sir…Sir!" could be heard from a female voice and the view turned as his head spun to face the sound. "You can’t go in there!" she exclaimed. The clock now read one minute thirty seconds on the screen as a picture of a short man in the isle carrying a bag appeared with a woman walking towards him. The images remained on the view as the images began to dump at a rate of one per second. Tony was in a panic, his breathing was loud and audible and he seemed to freeze in the isle.

The man was partially blocked out by the woman on the screen but something familiar rang out about his manner and overall demeanor. A moment later the man seemed to pull something out of his bag, and the flight attendant began to struggle with him. The view turned again away from the skirmish and it sounded like Tony was running in the opposite direction from the skirmish, panting noises reverberated from the speakers.

Just then a loud pop was heard followed by a crash as Tony struck the floor of the plane. The countdown read five seconds and counting. Then the screen turned black and a new window prompt came up asking if we wanted to exit the program. Tony was dead.

***

Later that evening, each member went to his or her own respective rooms to retire for the day with a copy of the file to play on their personal computer. Dorothy had run the file several times as she got ready for bed listening to the audio and occasionally glancing at the screen to coordinate the action as it unfolded over and over. She sat down at the computer desk and started to brush her hair when something caught her eye. On one of the screen dumps she could see a group of passengers heads, as Tony had turned to see behind him.

She peered closely at the monitor thinking she recognized the face of Alex Parsons sitting several rows behind Tony, looking away from him towards the right. She stopped the program and froze the screen as it appeared at that moment and attempted to enlarge the image. As she did it got more and more distorted as the pixels became bigger squares.

She reduced it back to normal size and just sat looking at the image becoming more and more convinced it was Alex. She prompted the computer to the next image and the hair on her legs stood up as she saw the face of Alex looking right at her. Tony must have known he was on board she thought. This was odd that they weren’t sitting next to each other she concluded making a note of her findings in her journal. She took note of the color of his shirt and the approximate location of his seat. It was possible that Alex’s remains also contained a recording device somewhere in the morgue. Maybe they split up in order to obtain different points of view for the records and they knew each other were on the plane. It made sense now.

Dorothy picked up her cell phone and dialed Tony’s number. She was going to ask him over to show him her findings when she heard a knock on the door of her room. On the other end of the phone Tony answered hello as she made her way to the door with t he phone curled up under her neck.

"One second" she said, as she opening the door.

From across the campus the loud screams of a woman could be heard startling Tony, causing him to drop the phone. He scrambled out the door towards the sound seeing a bright glow emanating from the direction of Dorothy’s building and ran in that direction yelling for help. A large group of military personnel came running with fire extinguishers and any tool available to put out a massive blaze.

Dorothy had made it outside the burning building and managed to escape the hottest part of the fire but was her caught in a blaze of yellow flames. Several men forced her to the ground and the flames were put out, she was horribly burned, but still alive. She had been doused with gasoline and set afire.

Chapter 7

July 2, 1969

By dawn, all traces of Viola Mae Johnson were gone. All that remained was the empty shell of her house and the ghosts that remained behind. The house was cleaned with bleach, the carpet shampooed, and acid misted on any surface that may retain any biological traces such as hair or fingerprints. Soon no one would remember Viola, and her memories would be dashed away by the members of the church. No one would remember her name or speak of her in public again, washing her from existence.

It just so happened that the doublewide trailer owned by Dennis Johnson caught fire, burning to the ground, killing all the members of family that same evening. A strange coincidence anywhere else except for this town.

Brother Follett sat patiently in his car three blocks from the church building watching as Seth and the sheriff exited the North entrance of the church and get in a white Ford sedan. A moment later they pulled out of the church parking lot and turned down the street, driving in the opposite direction. Brother Follett had been sweating out this moment since they first discovered the man creature in the basement of the house the night before. He was exhausted and feeling sick to his stomach from lack of sleep and stress induced by the anxiety dwelling deep in his head. Seth did not know it for sure, but Brother Follett was one of the rebellious church members he was talking about.

Brother Follett put his car in gear and drove down the street to the church. He turned into the gravel lot and parked his car under a silver maple tree across from the back door of the church. He turned his key, shutting off the engine and reached into the glove box pulling out a seven inch serrated hunting knife covered securely within a leather sheath. He pulled the knife free and used it to cut a length of twine from a roll he had lying on the seat. He ran the twine through the leather of the sheath and wrapped the rest around his calf under his pant leg fastening it so it would not move as he walked.

He stepped out of his car and gave his leg a good shake to check the knife to make sure it was secure and well hidden. His eyes squinted in the bright morning light as he scanned the church lot for any other members he might come across. Gathering his courage, he walked across the grounds making scrunching sounds as his heels scraped across the gravel lot. Reaching the back of the church, he grabbed his key set from his belt and unlocked the padlock.

With a tug and a click, it opened allowing him to open the door and gain entrance. The church layout was familiar to him as all the brothers took turns maintaining the façade, doing chores and cleaning the premises all for the good of the church.

The morning sun lit the interior of the building well illuminating the bare white walls and hallways. Every step he took echoed off the walls and throughout the empty rooms to his dismay, as he tried to maneuver covertly about inside the huge building.

Peering through the hallway, he peeked into the large room on the main floor used for services in most Christian churches. In this building it was a barren wood floor from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. He did not expect to see anyone here, but had to check anyway. Back down the hallway he went and turned to face the staircase leading to the lower level.

Faint voices could be heard conversing from below. He took his first step down the stairs stopping at the landing half way down. From there he moved like a stealthy cat after a mouse keeping an open ear to the voices he was following. He peered around the corner to see two of his fellow brother’s guarding the wild man who sat naked, chained to a sewer pipe that ran the length of the wall, floor to ceiling.

The prisoner sat still and silent as he watched the two men sitting on fold out chairs chatting. He seemed mildly interested but afraid at the same time. Just then Follett saw one of the keepers get off his chair