The Factory Read online

  The Factory

  By

  Allan E Petersen

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  *******

  Published by

  Allan E Petersen at Smashwords

  Copyright 2018 Allan E Petersen

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The Factory

  Synopsis

  Everybody in the small town of Twin Rivers knew that was not the real reason the government shut down the copper mine. The miners claimed it was still rich with copper. So why then was the prosperous Copper Factory so abruptly shut down, declared a ‘Restricted National Security Zone’ and surrounded by signs announcing, ‘Department of National Satellite Weather Research’.

  A short time later three special children who did not know each other mysteriously disappeared from the small community. Desperate searches and community prayers for their safe return, along with a determined Sheriff who for personal reasons needed the children returned to their parents, eventually had to admit defeat. The children seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

  Gary Albright was a twelve year old boy living on the other side of the country. His best friend was an over active imagination that helped him get through the loneliness of being an only child. When his mother died under suspicious circumstances, his only living relative was a grandmother he never knew and she lived across the country in a town he had never heard of. Now living in Twin Rivers with his grandmother, by chance he met Samantha Jackson, a daring and adventurous girl his own age.

  Those two youngsters would eventually expose the horror of the Factory for what it really was and topple heads of governments. What happened to them in those tunnels and the unnatural way they escaped eventually exposed the true horror of the Factory and the unspeakable things done to the three lost children.

  Chapter 1

  Amina Green was an odd girl. Not by appearance, for in fact she was an average looking twelve year old. She liked many things about herself which was unusual for a budding adolescent. She loved her long flowing and silky black hair draped over her shoulders. She liked her broad rimmed black glasses, claiming they made her look smart, like a lawyer or doctor. Her blue fawn eyes glowed with a sense of inner contentment both at home and school. Although she was a smart girl, what she did one day was very ill-advised and changed her life forever.

  The only thing she did not like about her appearance was those ugly railroad tracks on her teeth that the dentist tried to fool her by calling beauty braces. However, she put up with them knowing that soon they will come off and she will be able to beam a striking smile. Except for one odd thing, there was nothing really wrong with her.

  When she was younger, like most that age she had her fair share of imaginary friends and dolls. He parents never paid much attention when seeing her pour two little cups of tea near the playhouse, one for her and one for her make believe friend. Even when hearing voices from her playroom, her mom never attributed any great concern to it. She should have. There was relief in understanding that eventually she would, like all youngsters eventually grow out of needing invisible friends. However, so far that had not happened.

  The problems with lingering in a fantasy world are that they are not situations of the real world. Therein was one of Amina’s strange qualities. Not what made her odd, but rather just one of her faults. She grew up becoming naïve and innocent of the real and harsh world. Soon schoolmates took advantage and made fun of her, calling her mean names. She naturally withdrew deeper and closer to the kinder voices in her head.

  Finally, her parents sat up and took notice of Amina’s propensity to talk to people who were not there. They did not think it right for a girl that age to insist that the voices were real. It all came to light one day when mother noticed that for weeks on end Amina was forever tired and lethargic. Her grades were dropping and even in the middle of the day all she wanted to do was sleep. When pressed for reasons, all Amina said was that she had trouble sleeping. Her invisible playmates had not recognized the need for sleep and constantly invaded that time with bickering and demands for playtime. It was time for Amina Green to get professional help.

  Never at any time did Amina think there was anything wrong with her. All the voices in her head claimed that there was nothing wrong and she believed them. Both parents agreed that for the comfort and ease of the awkward situation, a woman psychologist would be best.

  Doctor Fran Jorden was a well-respected psychologist with a Masters in Psychology, specializing in diagnosis and treatment of children’s mental and emotional distress. She was thirty-five years old and when in her office, long auburn hair was done up in a tight bun. Although slender to the point of skinny, she carried her frame well. Looking professional was very important to Doctor Fran Jorden.

  Although Amina saw no reason to be here, because of the Doctor’s broad rimmed black glasses just like hers, she instantly connected to her. They made the Doctor look as intelligent as she thought she was. Because the Doctor dealt with adolescent concerns, she felt it best to dress smart but casual. Her office lacked the usual accreditation of certificates and degrees so often pompously displayed on walls to make a patient feel comfortable and safe.

  The preliminary session was standard. Amina sat between her parents looking blank eyed and straight ahead. For the first half hour all three members of the Green family sat facing Doctor Jorden. They were attentive to her questions and answered them honestly. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed until Doctor Jorden pointed to the door and asked the parents to wait out in the reception area. There was reluctance on their part but they trusted the Doctor and obeyed the request. It was clear by her nervous fidgeting that Amina was not pleased to be left alone with the Doctor.

  Doctor Jorden’s experience in handling young troubled patients sprang to the forefront. She looked straight into Amina’s eyes, smiled and waited for a returned smile. It soon enough happened albeit weakly. Doctor Jorden then began the session by asking,

  “Amina, are the voices you hear friendly to you?”

  She did not want to be here talking about something her parents claimed was unnatural and it was evident in her meek reply.

  “Yes.”

  “Do they ever tell you to do bad things?”

  Retaining a defensive posture, she again meekly replied,

  “No. I just hear them talking and stuff like that.”

  “Can you tell me some of the things they talk to you about?”

  She slowly shook her head and replied,

  “Sometimes I don’t even understand what they say. It’s sometimes just numbers and funny words.”

  “Like what for instance?”

  “Sometimes they yell stupid things about staying on computer line and a bunch of numbers and stuff like that. Once somebody screamed that the computers had gone off line.”

  Strangely, as if understanding, Doctor Jorden kindly nodded. When she heard what the voices were telling Amina, she perked alert and took much more than a casual interest in the case. Until then it seemed just another case of a child’s withdrawal into an imaginary and friendlier world. After a pause, she pointed to Amina and said,

  “This is what I would like you to do for me. Tonight, when the voices talk to you, I want you to write all those numbers and strange words down for me. Do you think you can do that?”

  Amin
a hesitantly whispered,

  “Okay.”

  Doctor Jorden then got up and walked to the door with her. Before opening the door the Doctor whispered,

  “Let’s not tell your mom and dad about those stupid numbers and things like that. It will be our little secret okay.”

  The Doctor’s instructions to Amina should have been a warning that something devious was at hand but Amina lived in a naïve world and saw no harm in keeping innocent secrets from her parents. After all, being honest and telling them about the strange voices was the reason she was forced to come here. Out in the reception area, while standing next to her parents, an appointment was arranged for the next day at two o’clock.

  Alone in her office and feeling good that another child may have been located, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a package of cigarettes. With smoke trailing behind her, she went to the big bay window of her office and gazed out into the town of Twin Rivers. Because of her own two boys, there was a tinge of remorse wrapped around what she was about to do. After all, like Amina and the other two boys, they were innocent children not yet aware of the torture and pain they would be subjected to. As she blew smoke against the large window, all those regretful feelings were somewhat pacified by the thousands of dollars she was paid for each delivery.

  Chapter 2

  Twin Rivers was an appropriately named town, located where two large rivers converged. The Copper River flowed from the nearby mountains and the Great Swanson came from the forest to the north. Although Twin Rivers was once prosperous with copper mining and forestry, that was just over a year ago. Once the mine closed, a major part of the town’s economy flat lined. As Doctor Fran Jorden stood at her office window looking out across Twin Rivers and across the Great Swanson River, she saw high on Copper Mountain the derelict buildings of what was once a bustling copper mine and the deserted buildings left to the ravages of time.

  A massive dilapidated concrete building stood on the site atop a labyrinth of abandoned copper mine tunnels. Eventually, the pollution and stink of the mine was kindly absorbed by nature. Now, like an encroaching army a forest of tall Oaks and Pines slowly inched forward to reclaim land that was once cruelly taken from them. The service road leading up to the mine, the Copper Mountain Road once busy with roaring trucks bringing copper ore to the trains also suffered the cruel fate of abandonment.

  The odd hiker who at times walked the old road occasionally tripped on chunks of asphalt refusing to cede to persistent land reclamation. There was not much reward for venturing that far up the mountain only to be stopped by a tall and imposing wire fence. The view through the fence bore a sharp contrast to the serenity of the surrounding forest. A massive building with hundreds of broken windows stood helpless and crippled as the forest pushed ever forward.

  A short time after the mine had shut down, for a reason not understood by the town’s people, a branch of the Federal Government expropriated the mine and surrounding land. Research by the local paper was unable to discover why the government wanted the land or what was happening up in the old abandoned Factory. If the truth was known, nobody in Twin Rivers cared.

  Because Doctor Fran Jorden was new to Twin Rivers, she was not sure why the locals referred to the site as ‘the Factory’. Perhaps while looking up at the compound it reminded them of a complex of buildings more indicative of manufacturing. Many thought that if they broke into the large building they would find deserted machines and tools. However, that was not what was in there or what the new owners were doing.

  Nothing much changed to the land with the new owners. Above the mine shafts the building still stood old and waiting to take its last breath and collapse. The biggest physical change by the new owners was the greatly enforced surrounding fence now standing stronger and higher. For the adventurous who dared touch it, it was painfully discovered to be electrified.

  The new owners also rehabilitated the old Copper Mountain Road leading from the Factory into town. It soon became busy with large trucks and mysterious black cars driving through town and disappearing at the entrance to the Factory. Helicopters coming and going were by now such a common occurrence that nobody in town bothered looking up at them anymore. The only hint about who the new owners were was a large sign at the heavily guarded sentry gate,

  Restricted Area.

  Department of National Satellite Weather Research.

  No Trespassing beyond this point.

  Similar signs were placed on the fence about every fifty yards.

  Doctor Jorden butted her cigarette and returned to her desk. She picked up the phone and punched in an inordinate series of numbers. When the other end answered, the softness of her professional demeanor disappeared. Sounding military, she demanded,

  “I’ll need a printout of tonight’s laboratory communications. Have them sent to my office by two o’clock tomorrow.”

  There was no need for the amenities of ‘hello’ or ‘good bye’. Orders were orders and so she simply hung up.

  As with most communities situated at the base of mountains, accurate weather forecasts are practically impossible. Although the Twin River’s weather forecaster predicted sunny with cloudy periods, it was raining the next day. This time, not just rain but a torrential downpour swelled both rivers to almost overflowing. Because Amina’s dad was at work, her mother, Lola Green arrived in Doctor Fran Jorden’s office with a reluctant and wet Amina in tow. Again, Lola Green was told to wait in the reception area. In the office, Amina knew where to sit and instinctively selected the middle chair.

  The good doctor took a few precious minutes to relax the obviously shy Amina with questions of how she felt and how did you sleep. Then, she asked the important question, the one that led to all the trouble to come.

  “Amina, did you hear voices last night?”

  Amina nodded and meekly said,

  “I hear them every night.”

  “Did you do as I asked, write down what you heard?”

  “Yes, but not everything. They talk too fast and say things that don’t make sense.”

  Doctor Jorden’s eyes widened. That was expected. With intense eye contact and expectation, the Doctor looked straight at Amina and struggled not to make it sound like a command,

  “Show me what you wrote down?”

  A slow hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a great number of folded pages. As they were handed over, the Doctor asked,

  “Did you keep it a secret from your parents as I asked?”

  She nodded her compliance and the Doctor tried to hide an evil smirk.

  Excited fingers unfolded the papers and it only took a few lines to grasp the importance of what Amina heard in her head last night. It was written in pencil and quickly as if trying to keep up with fast words. She read,

  Satellite 22 beta. Steady, we are losing it. Maintain the containment field. Coordinates West -17. Arming and promoting reposition test 112. Opening experimental dimension 17B. Frequency incompatibility. Closing gate 17B.

  The rest of the papers were a long series of what to an untrained eye were simply random numbers. But not to Doctor Jorden. She looked across the desk at innocent eyes and although excited on the inside, managed to sound mundane.

  “Well, there certainly doesn’t appear to be any great help here does there? Let’s forget about this experiment for now and continue with the session shall we?”

  Amina nodded her agreement.

  A short while later, the Doctor again stood at her big office window looking down onto Maple Street. Through the heavy rain she saw Amina and her mother get into a car, turn on the windshield wipers and drive away. When the car turned and disappeared up Second Avenue, she butted her cigarette and returned to her desk. She reached for the folder on the desk and stared at the read-outs Amanda had given her. She then compared them to the notes that the people up in the Factory had sent to her this morning. By comparison they were almost identical.

  ‘Satellite 22 beta. Steady, we are losing it. Maintain
the field. Coordinates West -17. Arming and promoting reposition test 112. Opening experimental dimension 17B. Frequency incompatibility. Closing gate 17B’.

  There then followed a long series of numbers that were out of sync but was excused as coming too fast for Amina to jot down correctly.

  She reached for her cell phone and again stabbed at excessive numbers. As she coded in, guilt for the contemptible deed she was now a part of returned. This would be her third report, two boys and now Amina. Although knowing what was going to happen to Amina was regretful, a bulging bank account managed to tip the scales of guilt. When the other end answered, she blandly reported,

  “I have another one for you. Her brain wave frequencies are in sync to the frequencies your laboratory is transmitting. The numbers matched last night’s readouts.”

  After reporting Amina’s name and address, she added,

  “She is young and naïve. The puppy dog ploy should work.”

  She finished with,

  “You know my account number.”