Chapter 9
CURIOSITY KILLED THE ANTHRO STUDENT
Thankfully, I had a new mystery to contemplate the next morning.
I unloaded bread from the reusable fabric grocery bag, glancing through the window.
The sun peeked from behind puffy gray clouds that’d been gathering, and hazy light illuminated Bob’s small kitchen.
The smell of strong coffee and the faint, sweet scent of the carnations I’d grabbed hung in the air. Lord knew he could use the cheer.
Behind me, Bob set his mug down on the round kitchen table and cleared his throat in that pointed way of his. I braced myself for a lecture—
And was not disappointed.
“You should really see about a new car, Raven. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be worried about being stranded on the side of the road. There’s some downright shit people in this world.”
“I know, Bob. I’m working on it.” I shoved his chicken noodle soup into the pantry and hung the bananas on the little brass hook I’d added under the cabinets.
Technically, none of this was in the rental agreement, but after a couple years of living above Bob’s garage, we’d slipped into a routine.
I’d gotten used to his grumbling, too. I almost enjoyed it.
He was rough and gruff, an ex-soldier turned full-time curmudgeon.
And yet, somehow, he’d gone from landlord to my grouchy, honorary grandfather.
Judging by his current tone, he felt the same.
“I told you, girl. I’ll help you out.”
“Absolutely not.” I shoved up my sleeves, grabbed his dirty egg pan, and gave him an exasperated look over my shoulder. “I’ve already told you I’m not letting you help with a car loan. You already undercharge me for the fancy apartment above your garage.”
“Bah.” Bob huffed into his coffee.
I shook my head and turned back around, dunking the pan into the soapy water. At least he didn’t swat me with the newspaper anymore when I did his dishes.
“You hear about these damn UFO lights?” he asked.
I could’ve done without that particular subject change, though. Apparently there was no avoiding it.
Resigned to it, I lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. I…heard about them. Everybody’s talking about it.”
Literally. Everyone.
Bob snorted. “Probably scouting before they drop a nuke.”
“Nobody’s going to nuke One Willow, Bob.” I rinsed the pan and reached for the plate. “It’s probably just the solar flare. That’s what the news is saying, and that makes the most sense to me.”
Liar, liar. Pants on fire.
I’d barely slept again last night. My brain wouldn’t stop spinning. No matter how much I wanted to ignore it, I couldn’t deny something was going on in One Willow. And it wasn’t looking very…terrestrial.
Bob wasn’t buying the solar flare theory either. “Then it’s that there base,” he muttered. “Always thought that place was trouble. No offense to your pops. Rest his soul.”
“It’s not the base. And thanks.” I sighed, setting the plate on the rack.
I’d given in and done another internet search. The lights had been seen all over the county. Different locations, but eerily similar in description and timing.
And while the rational side of me screamed coincidence, my gut whispered otherwise.
After all, that was an awful lot of ball lightning.
I’d seen something. I’d felt the heat lingering on the road below where it had hovered. The brightness had stung my eyes. The hum, the electric buzz in the air—it’d all felt real.
All too real. Visceral, even now.
I tried to shake off the memories, but they clung like cobwebs.
Occam’s Razor said the simplest explanation was usually the right one. But there was nothing simple about glowing balls of fire causing car accidents. Or floating all over the city.
I needed to understand what was happening.
Problem was, I had no idea where to start.
“I reckon you’re right,” Bob said when I stayed quiet. He snapped his newspaper straight. “You know more about this stuff than I do with all your fancy schooling. Speaking of those folks—sounds like that anthro-whatever professor of yours has some secret project going on. You know about that?”
The plate I was scrubbing slipped from my fingers and plopped into the water.
I twisted to stare at him, up to my elbows in suds. “What? How’d you hear about that?”
“Went to the diner yesterday for my Tuesday pancakes. Lettie said her son Dan—you know, young guy on the force—had to set up some escort for a delivery to the university. Something about the military working with the school’s lab. Even got guards there. Crazy stuff.”
The military? I jumped when Bob slapped his paper down.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Whole thing sounds mighty suspicious, if you ask me. Lot of air traffic around that base lately, too, and that place’s supposed to be practically shut down.”
He was right. The base was supposed to be a ghost town. I swallowed hard, my pulse speeding.
After Landon’s offhand comment yesterday, I hadn’t thought much of his claim that Professor Stern was involved in something fishy. But now…? Hearing it twice like this couldn’t just be a fluke. There had to be some truth to it.
So what the hell would the professor be working on that would need military escorts and guarded deliveries?
I’d taken a few of his classes. He taught some of the two-hundred-level courses I’d needed for prereqs. Nice enough guy. Fair grader. Liked tweed jackets and overhead projectors. Nothing about him screamed top-secret liaison to the government.
I racked my brain for his last published study. Something about the placement of Native American burial mounds aligning with ancient constellations.
Ancient constellations.
Unidentified flying objects.
Solar flares.
A chill tiptoed down my spine. No. There was no way.
…Was there a connection?
“You okay, kid?” Bob’s raspy voice cut into my thoughts, and I realized I’d been staring into space. I blinked and met his rheumy eyes. He squinted at me with clear concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not a ghost. Maybe aliens, though.
“Sorry.” I turned back around and fished out the plate, rinsing it and moving on to the silverware. “That’s just…surprising. Weird.”
Weird. But…
A glance at the clock told me I had a few minutes before I needed to head to class. I mentally reviewed my schedule. There was a decent break between my last lecture and my shift at work.
Perfect.
I’d go to Professor Stern’s office. I’d just ask.
What was the worst he could say? That it was classified? I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you?
I snorted.
There had to be a logical explanation.
I just had to find it.
The anthropology wing felt abandoned when I stepped from the stairwell hours later.
The elevator was still out—surprise, surprise—so I’d taken the stairs three flights down to the bottom of the Finke Building. My heart pounded from exertion, not nerves. Probably.
It was definitely nerves that had me eyeing the corridor lights when they buzzed and flickered. If they went out, it was going to be extra dark in this basement hallway. I patted the phone in my pocket, just in case.
The empty hall was at least a lot quieter than the upper wings had been. Devoid of alien gossip and people laughing over UFO memes. I ground my teeth in annoyance. My social media feed was full of them. Everyone was still obsessed.
Hopefully not for long. The electrical problems and blackouts had stretched across the Midwest, but according to the latest news clip, they were already tapering off. The solar flare, the newscaster claimed, was weakening.
If there was one at all.
I adjusted my bag and shoved away the thought. Who even was I? That wasn’t me. I didn’t fall prey to conspiracy theories. I certainly didn’t let them make me jumpy like this.
My old Converse squeaked with each step, the sound echoing off the cream-colored linoleum. Closed doors lined both sides of the corridor. I didn’t see anyone. The few staff members working down here must’ve been out to lunch or at some off-site department meeting.
Still. It was weirdly empty. Maybe that was on purpose. Maybe it had something to do with Professor Stern’s project. I hadn’t seen any of the guards Bob had claimed were here, though.
And yet the quiet went from feeling peaceful to…unnatural. Foreboding.
Shrugging off the chill, I focused on the familiar: flyers and event posters tacked to the corkboards, blurbs about local digs and conference dates, and the peeling edge of a laminated map. The unease lingered anyway.
A door slammed somewhere nearby.
I jumped and sucked in a sharp breath, halting mid-step.
Rolling my eyes, I straightened my spine and began walking again with renewed determination. It was someone closing a door, for Pete’s sake. Perfectly normal. I was just on edge.
On the bright side, at least someone else was down here. It made the emptiness of the cramped basement wing feel a little less intimidating.
Then I rounded the corner—
And caught a glimpse of a dark figure vanishing through the double doors marked Lab 3.
They’d moved fast, a blur of motion, but I saw enough to register a tall, masculine form. The doors they’d passed through swung gently.
I paused at the bend in the hall, worrying my bottom lip.
That was weird. It almost looked like they’d been running. Maybe someone was late for a lab. Or a meeting with a professor.
“Professor Stern?” I called.
No response but the echo of my own voice. The fluorescent lights above buzzed and dimmed. I glanced up at them, breath catching. A half-second later, they flickered back to full power, as if nothing had happened.
Just a power blip. Again. I glared at the panels like they’d personally betrayed me.
Squaring my shoulders, I approached the double doors. No glow seeped from behind the opaque glass windows, but the panels still swung gently in the wake of whoever had passed through.
Instinct prickled at the back of my neck.
I reached out, then hesitated.
You’re being ridiculous, Rae. I pushed the nearest panel open, braced myself, and stepped into…
Nothing. An empty lab.
No one waited on the other side.
I exhaled slowly and shoved the door wider.
The front lab was dark. Light from the hallway spilled in, casting long shadows over the metal shelving and rows of white tables, each cluttered with carefully labeled boxes and stacks of notes.
At the back of the room, a row of computer screens glowed softly in sleep mode, their pale light barely illuminating the space.
I licked my dry lips. “Hello?”
No response.
The door on the far side of the room stood slightly ajar. I knew where it led: a hallway connecting the staff offices, the storage room, and beyond that, the temperature-controlled, authorized-personnel-only lab.
All this alien talk was seriously getting to me. I shoved the sensation of creeping dread aside and moved around the nearest table, skirting the clutter as I headed for the far door.
Out of habit, I fumbled for my phone, pulling it from the back pocket of my jeans. For half a second, I considered calling Amelia for the illusion of company. Just in case.
I dismissed the urge, annoyed by my own jumpiness. I’d never been the paranoid type. It was only a dark hallway. One I’d been in before. And that figure had just been another student.
Simplest explanations.
I reached the far door and nudged it open with my shoulder, peering through.
Bright fluorescent light poured from the narrow corridor beyond. It stretched in a clean, sterile line to another set of double metal doors at the far end. Empty.
To my right: Professor Stern’s office.
To my left: the drinking fountain and single-stall bathroom. The lock read VACANT.
“Professor?” I whispered. “Hello?”
Why was I whispering?
Somebody had to have come this way. I’d seen them. My throat tightened as I crept forward. One step, then another. I peered through the square window in Stern’s office door.
It was empty. Dark, too. He hadn’t just stepped out; he wasn’t in. Only the cold glow of his sleep-mode monitor lit the stacks of books, artifacts, and mess of half-filed papers on his desk.
Another cautious stride brought me alongside the bathroom. Without thinking, I reached for the handle and pulled.
And screamed.
It echoed, slicing through the suffocating silence, but I barely heard it over the ringing in my ears.
Flinging the door away, I stumbled backward until my heel caught my other foot.
I crashed onto the linoleum, landing hard on my back.
Books jabbed into my spine through the fabric of my bag, and the wind rushed from my lungs.
I lay there, stunned and breathless, struggling to comprehend what it was I’d just seen.
Because it turned out I wasn’t alone down here after all.