Project StrikeForce Read Online Free Page B

down
at an LCD screen, then placed her thumb over a small square.
    The thumb-reader beeped and the ground began to
rise in front of them. He watched, amazed, as the desert floor blossomed open,
a long tunnel sloping downward underneath the false rock. They entered the
cavernous tunnel and continued down the slope.
    “It’s not concrete,” Nancy said.
    He stared dumbly. “What?”
    “I bet you were thinking the tunnel is concrete.
It’s not.” The Humvee’s headlights played across the slick tunnel walls. Eric
turned to watch behind them as the false door shut, sealing them in. A long
string of fluorescent lights in metal cages glowed above, stretching off into
the distance.
    “The original tunnel was hand cut,” she continued,
“but they enlarged it later with a nuclear tunneling device. They poured
concrete to level the floor, but the walls are actually melted rock.”
    “Nuclear powered tunneling machine?”
    “Don’t worry,” Nancy said, grinning. “It isn’t
radioactive. Anymore.”
    He shook his head. “That really doesn’t make me
feel better.”
    They continued through the tunnel until finally
entering a large cavern. Eric had seen caves, large and small, and this was no
cave. It was a long room, big enough for the Humvee and truck to swing
completely around. A large blast door stood open, guarding another tunnel.
    The soldiers lifted the gurney out of the truck
and placed it on the flat bed of an electric cart, Frist still trussed up and
motionless. Nancy slid behind the wheel and motioned for Eric to take the
passenger seat. He was barely seated when she floored it.
    The electric cart shot down the tunnel, the blast
door closing behind them. She spoke to Eric as she drove. “A lot of people
think we have aliens here, but trust me, it’s just us. They’d probably be a lot
more freaked if they knew the truth,” she said wistfully.
    They drove several hundred meters before coming to
another door. It opened slowly, and was as thick as it was wide. An armed guard
stopped them and Nancy handed him identification. He nodded and they passed
through the door and were greeted by several white-coated technicians.
    The techs wore lanyards with their faces
emblazoned on plastic cards. The first, a black man named Nathan Elliot,
directed two others to take the gurney with Frist. Eric recognized Elliot as
the lead scientist on Project StrikeForce, a burly man in his late forties who
would look more at home in a barroom brawl than in a classroom. He knew the
man’s looks were deceiving; he held two doctorates and was considered the top
in his field before being recruited into the OTM.
    He saluted but Elliot laughed and shook his hand
with an iron grip.
    “We’re not big on formality,” Dr. Elliot said. He
motioned to Frist. “He’s been asleep the entire trip?”
    “Yes,” Eric replied.
    “Good. We’ll get him to the lab and start
immediately.”
    “That fast?”
    Elliot grinned. “No need to wait, and I prefer him
unconscious. We need to run tests before we perform the Implant.”
    Nancy led Eric through a labyrinth of hallways until
they reached his living quarters.
    “This is yours,” she said, pointing to a door with
his name embossed on a steel plate. “Inside you’ll find a sitting area, a desk,
and a kitchenette. Your bedroom, bathroom, and closet are in the back. We took
the liberty of stocking everything you might need. There’s a million channels
to choose from, and we even have movies on demand.” She shook her head. “It’s a
shame you won’t have time to watch them. Read as much of the paperwork as you
can, but get some sleep, you’ll be observing tomorrow.”
    She left and he opened the door with his
thumbprint. When he stepped inside he let out a long whistle. It was big, five
meters across and ten deep, and was decorated with dark wood furniture, not the
barrack-style steel that he expected. It even had recessed lights.
    The kitchenette had a full size refrigerator.