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

"10-4 on escort, Denton out," the dispatcher replied.

She sat back and watched the houses pass by. Watching the raindrops fall through the bright lights, she wandered off in a trance as the water past through the street lamps above. Thunder crashed from behind, then again, over and over. She felt uneasy sitting in the back seat of the patrol car feeling like a criminal herself, staring at the back of the two officer’s heads. Their uniforms made her feel secure and nervous at the same time.

The car came to an intersection and dipped in the rut. The car raised, and dipped again as they past through over the bumpy brick streets. The bright lights of downtown were distorted through the rain speckled side window as she was peering through.

Minutes past and they finally reached their destination. Her mother’s car was parked in front of her grandmother’s and lights were on in front of the house.

"Stay here, we’ll be right back," the sheriff said to the girl and they exited the vehicle, walking up the steps to the house. The interior of the car was slowly getting brighter as a car pulled up pulled up from behind. The car turned off its lights and the patrol car was once again dark inside.

From the other direction she watched as a pickup truck, and a van pulled up to the curb across the street and park. This struck her as odd considering the time of night and the fact she knew most of her grandmother’s neighbors. These vehicles did not seem familiar to her.

Looking back out her side window, through the rain smeared glass she saw her mother and grandmother hurrying as fast as they could to the patrol car, with umbrellas held above them for protection. Close behind, followed the two lawmen, which were herding the two women like shepherds. The rear door opened and Anne scooted over allowing the other two women to enter the car.

"It is sure nice of you to offer us a ride," the grandmother said.

"No problem ma’am, that’s what your tax dollars pay for," he said with a chuckle. He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb driving down the rain covered brick streets.

"What happened?" the mother asked, worried and shivering in the cold. "Was anyone in the other car hurt?" she asked.

"No, the other party was not injured," he replied. "Just a few bumps and bruises."

"Who was it?" she asked.

The officer hesitated and looked to his deputy. "They were from out-of-town," he responded nervously.

"You don’t know their names?"

"We’re not able to release that information."

"Even if no one died?"

"That’s correct, plus the state troopers are handling this. I am not at liberty to discuss the details right now."

"I see."

"I can ask them when we see them if I can release the information."

"Thank you officer."

The car turned and headed down Main Street towards the city hospital.

***

Back at the grandmothers’ house, a man was directing the van, helping it back up to the side door. A group of people had already entered the house and began gathering up the household items and possessions. It was imperative they remove all traces of its former occupants before dawn. They had to be erased.

***

Mrs. Johnson sat between her mother and daughter Anne in the back seat. It was a tight and uncomfortable fit for the three of them, bumpy at times, claustrophobic at times. The car stressed and groaned under the heavy load.

"We past the hospital back there," Mrs. Johnson said, craning her neck to see it pass by her window.

"I know," the sheriff said. "I have to make a quick stop first, it’ll just take a minute."

The three ladies became anxious awaiting their stop at the hospital. They did not appreciating the hold up.

"Can’t you just drop us off?" she asked.

"We’re almost there. It won’t take but a second. I promise"

"I’d rather not wait if it’s ok with you?" she asked.

By this time they were blocks past the hospital and heading quickly to the edge of town. The sheriff stopped talking to the women and it became awkwardly quiet in the car.

"I don’t mean to be rude, but I think we should head back," the grandmother said in a stern tone.

"Maybe you should be quiet," the deputy said with a smile. He glanced back and then turned back to face out the front.

"Quiet?" mother asked in shock. "My family is hurt and you want me to be quiet?" She became angry and tried to keep it inside.

"Shut up!" the deputy yelled back while turning around to face her. "You hear me!" He reached out to grab her by the coat and she jerked back out of his reach. Giving her a stern look, he turned back around and shook his head in disgust.

The women were stunned by his words. The car was now a half-mile outside the city limits and starting to slow and turn to the right. The car drove onto a gravel road speeding out into the country, picking up speed as it went along.

The car flew over the hills and valley’s attaining 60 mph scaring the passengers in the backseat, just as the officers wanted to do. Rows of corn and milo sped past the car illuminated by the high beam headlights in a blur, confusing them as to their location.

Ahead in the distance, sprung an outcrop of trees just past Sandy Creek Bridge. The car again slowed and turned into the grove of trees disappearing from the roadway. Fifty yards inside, the car stopped and the men got out leaving the headlights on. They both moved to the rear of the car and opened the back doors simultaneously.

"Get out," the sheriff said calmly trying not to alarm the women. They hesitated. The sheriff pulled his revolver and pointed it at the grandmother, " I said get out," he reiterated. The older woman exited the driver’s side and the other two the passenger’s side.

"What is this?" the grandmother asked, keeping her eye on the sheriff’s gun.

"Shut up and go stand in front of the car," he stated. "About ten feet away." He pointing his free hand in that direction. The women obeyed and walked to the front of the car, standing illuminated in the headlight beams. The raindrops were visible as they past through the bright lights along with the mist from their breaths. They shivered in the cold, scared and shaking.

"Turn and face the car," the sheriff ordered them in a military tone. They obeyed. "On your knee’s."

The women again obeyed and dropped to their knees blinded by the bright light ten feet before them.

"What are you going to do?" the mother asked.

She was answered with a hard pull to her hair and a kick in the ribs. The other women kept their eyes front, afraid of drawing his attention and a repeat of the treatment.

The deputy squatted down behind the mother and grabbed her arms, pulling them back around her and cuffing them. He did the same to the daughter. The sheriff stood behind the grandmother and pointed his pistol at the back of her head. In an execution style, he popped off a shot dropping her flat to the ground. The deputy followed quickly with the mother before she had a chance to scream. The sheriff took care of the daughter. On the ground lie the last remains of the Johnson family.

"Collect the cuffs," the sheriff said to his deputy as he walked to the rear of his patrol car. Popping the trunk, he pulled out a two-gallon gas can and carried to back to the death scene. He waited till the cuffs were confiscated then poured gasoline on the three bodies until the can was empty. He backed up, lit a cigarette and tossed it in the fumes. He backed away from the heat and stood behind the trunk of the car with the deputy. In the dark, the sheriff’s eyes glowed red in the night

Chapter 4

Sonja Penner and Dorothy Larson joined Tony and Alex at the site, both of which were staff scientist’s brought in by Robert Brinkman to assist on the investigation. Sonja and Dorothy were also experts in the field of physics, Sonja holding a minor in history and ancient civilizations. She was a woman in her forties, a very stuffy professional type of individual with a no no-nonsense approach to her work. She was a strong female who stood on her own giving off an aura of power and intelligence. Dorothy was a more docile woman not imposing her ideas on others staying in the background until called upon. She was in her mid-twenties having only been out of school for a few years working her first teaching job in a small community college prior to working for the government.

It had been a week since they had arrived and Jesse Brinkman refused to tell the men of their true purpose until he thought the time was right. Sonja was helpful explaining some of the details of the operation and how the remains were identified.

"At this time the government has a large DNA database which they could use to identify the remains of the passengers by sampling the skeletal remains and letting a super computer search the files of current US citizens," she stated. "This database was unknown to most all citizens, the samples gathered at birth and sent to a secret government agency in order to keep track of the goings on of its people."

Tony knew this searching was not necessary. He had worked the paradoxes over and over in his mind trying to figure out how and why they were even able to find the plane. He knew there was no reason to identify the passengers, because it would be impossible to stop the events from happening again. If it were, the plane would not be there. The team met for lunch in Robert Brinkman’s tent.

"I’ve been thinking this over." Tony said.

"And…" Jesse added.

"You realize the answer is already here," he said.

"The answer?" Jesse asked.

"Yes, we are dealing with a time paradox," Tony said. "The answer was planted in the wreckage and I am sure you have already found it,"

"Explain."

"If you were able to stop the plane from departing in on the day it crashed, it would not be sitting over there now. The second you do anything that could stop it from taking off, time will shift and we will too."

"I think I’m starting to understand," Alex said.

"For example, if we were to find the names of all the passengers and lets say kill one of them, the event could shift the flow of time and may possibly change the path of the plane. It also could possibly change the departure time or do something that would prevent it from coming in contact with whatever sent it hurling back in time," Tony said.

"As of now no such thing has happened," Alex said. "Because it is still here. If we did something to change time, we wouldn’t even know it."

"Correct!" Tony said. "I think we have already been through this time line. I think we have our answer somewhere on this site. We sent ourselves the answer. We just need to find it."

"Answer?" Brinkman asked. "In what form?"

"A recording device." Tony replied.

"And how do you know this?"

"You would have sent it. You would have made this as easy as you could. You realized we would sit around and brainstorm. We would have picked the most obvious answer."

"I see," Alex said. "If what you say is true, I’m surprised you haven’t tripped over it already."

Everyone looked puzzled trying to imagine what kind device Tony was referring to.

"We did," Brinkman said. Brinkman stared blankly for a moment thinking hard. "I was shown something about thirty years ago, on the first day of cataloging, that was very odd."

Dorothy perked up. "You’re telling me in the future we planted a recording device on this plane and sent two hundred and thirty two passengers to their