Excerpts Taken From Marcus P. Kellum's Personal Journal.
I do not know where I am. Soon after the Facility operatives arrived at the hospital, Avi and I were escorted to a group of black vans that were parked, idling, in the basement of the hospital parking garage. All of the agents were silent, only answering my questions with a stern glance as we were herded along towards the vehicles. Avi, at this point, was not totally conscious yet she was on her wobbly feet. She faded from brief moments of lucidity back to an almost drunken stupor. She was obviously in great pain.
Once we were in one of the vans, we were shown a small bench seat and told to sit. A large portion of the back of our particular van was covered in a bank of what appeared to be closed circuit television sets. A small, balding man sitting in a chair swiveled around and took off a headset as we were seated.
“Ah Kellum…Proctor…It is good to finally meet you even if it is under these terrible circumstances.” His face showed concern. “Proctor, I am so sorry for having you removed from this hospital, I assure you that we shall be taking you to our own Facility hospital and there I think you will find things much more comfortable.”
Avi could only give a weak smile, but I was full of questions. I began to speak rapidly. The man waved them off with a sigh and nodded to the driver behind me. The van began to move.
“Not yet! Not yet! Kellum…we both have quite a bit of info that we are going to need to share.” With that, he cryptically turned back to his closed circuit machinery and placed a set of headphones on his head.
The ride was uneventful. We did not go straight to the Facility as I had first supposed, but rather we found the interstate and drove due west. After some miles with my questions going unanswered, I grew terse. Avi was worrying me greatly and the total lack of concern on the part of these operatives was frightening to me. As she became paler and paler, I began to suspect that something sinister was afoot and a rage began to build in me quite quickly.
Just as I was about to burst and rip the headphones off the little bald man, the van slowed to a crawl and made a sharp turn into a gated alcove off of the side of the highway. By looking at it from an angle, you could not tell there was a road hidden there, but if you were facing the alcove and gate, a small gravel road appeared and then wound around a stand of trees. We took this alcove and pulled up to the gate. The driver spoke into a radio microphone and the gate slowly ground back on its metal hinges. We drove through and the gate slowly closed behind us. The lack of human hands pushing the gate closed only heightened my growing fear and animosity. I felt a certain ball of anger growing in my midsection and I had a growing sense of foreboding.
The van took the curving road far back into the forest. Finally, we entered a football field sized clearing in the forest that was covered in grass. Everything was brightly lit by halogen lamps on tall poles and at the center of the clearing was what appeared to be a construction trailer. The van and its escort pulled to a halt exactly at the door of the trailer and once again, we were unceremoniously herded out of the vans and right to the steps of the trailer. Here, the bald man stopped us and gave what seemed to be a long prepared speech.
“You two, you are about to see some things that you will not believe. You are being asked now not to repeat anything you have heard or seen under penalty of the laws of the United States government. You are not being placed under arrest at this time, but for your own safety, you may be sequestered for your own protection. Do not be alarmed Kellum! Go along with me for just a few hours of your time and I have a feeling that you shall be rewarded for your sacrifice…trust me, this is going to blow your mind.”
What could we do? Avi gave me a quick, worried glance to which I shrugged my shoulders. The pain medication was wearing off and I could tell she was in great discomfort. We followed the little bald man inside the trailer. As he mounted the little wooden steps, his jacket shifted and I could see the butt of a pistol in a shoulder holster. I suddenly grew quite distressed.
Inside the trailer, it looked exactly as my mind had pictured what a construction trailer would look like. Messy desk covered in papers and old paper coffee cups. A water cooler and a row of filing cabinets were against one wood-paneled and a large topographical map was on the wall opposite them. There were several plastic chairs strewn haphazardly around the room, some covered in stacks of files. The little bald man went to the desk and picked up the receiver of an old rotary telephone.
“Section Chief Reynolds” He said blandly into the phone. “Agent number 2507A condition blue.” With that, he hung up the phone and relaxed a small bit in the old squeaking office chair. He gestured at us. “Sit down, this may take a few minutes and I am sure you guys are worn out.”
I guided Avi around myself and into one of the plastic chairs that faced the desk, being careful of her wounded arm. Once she was in place, I moved a stack of papers off the chair next to her and sat down myself. This pleased Reynolds and he gave us a reassuring smile. Behind us, three faceless agents also sat. With them behind me, it felt like I had turned my back on a panther, ready to strike.
“We’ve got a few minutes…why don’t you ask some questions?” Reynolds said around his grin. “I’m sure you are full of them.”
I was not interested in knowing anything at that point but where we could get help for Avi. She was grievously injured and in dire need of something to quell her pain. I asked about a place where I could get her into a bed and get her some much needed rest. I was sure the journey we had taken was an incredible stress on her system and I wanted to check her wound.
“That’s what we’re here for, Kellum,” He said. “Give the elevator some time to get up here. It’s a long way down.”
“Elevator?” I asked.
“Yes, surely you didn’t think that this little office was where we were going to take you? There is, after all, a large Facility base about a mile underneath us. We’re just waiting for the elevator.”
I let my mind chew that morsel of information for a minute. “The Facility…it isn’t just a privately funded organization, that much I now know…but the government? How long have they been overseeing us? Ghost stories and digging around in old crypts doesn’t seem like something that would garner much support or money.”
“The Facility was founded in 1910.” He stated as if by rote. “Two years before that time there was a massive explosion in Russia—“
“The Tunguska event.” I interrupted.
“Ah yes, Tunguska,” Reynolds went on. “The official story is that a comet or meteor exploded above the ground and flattened everything nearby.”
“But the unofficial story is?”
“Something entered this world.” Reynolds put his hand in his suit pocket and extracted a pack of cigarettes. He lighted on and blew a soft stream of smoke out of his lips. “Or, as some of the experts believe, Something woke.”
“What a load of malarkey,” Avi was lucid again and she was defiantly voicing her opinion. Reynolds gave her a wan smile and set his cigarette down.
“Ask your friend if it is malarkey,” He said. I felt a cold shock. These people must have studied me well…read my journals. Avi glanced in my direction and studied my knowing face. I remembered my time in Turkey. My time in Arizona. I shrugged my shoulders at her.
“What he says…” I said. “What he says may be true. I want to see more. I want to know more about what this place is and what is going on.”
“Anyways,” he said dismissively, “the Facility was founded in 1910 because at the time several…ah…people who showed small psychic ability began to see things on a greater scale than they ever had in their past. If a person could get a sense of the future by paying attention to his dreams, he now was seeing those dreams in waking life. If a person could read an object’s muted history by handling it, it now became a raging vision. If a person had some spiritual connection to an area…you get the picture. It seemed as if everybody was operating on a new and more powerful level. One of these “psychically gifted” people happened to be Teddy Roosevelt, and although he thought that he was only suffering from bad dreams and that psychic phenomena was a load of bunk, he was alarmed by his visions enough to suggest that a study should be engaged. He also had the foresight to fund it rather richly.”
“Teddy Roosevelt wasn’t president in 1910.” Avi said with a tired voice. Reynold’s speech had only made her more firmly full of doubt.
“Yes, you are correct, but the Tunguska event occurred during his watch. The money and the directives were already in place when he left office. Each president that has come after him has been notified of our presence and of our directives.”
“Directives?” I asked. “I have always thought that the Facility was a research group…a proactive group yes, but dedicated to study and recording information…”
“When you said proactive, you were quite correct. Our stated directive mentions something along the lines of a proactive nature, but you are mistaking just how enthusiastic we really are.” As he said this, he gave a quick wink…as if for the benefit of Avi.
Again, I was swept with a feeling that these people had been watching me. I felt more guarded than before. It was as if he had read my journal word for word. This man new much more about me than he was letting on and I did not like it at all.
“Reynolds,” I said around gritted teeth, “just how much do you know and what aren’t you telling us?
“All in good time, Kellum.” The bald little man said and he grinned around his cigarette.
