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E.V.I.L ( a book I've been writing)

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It is called E.V.I.L an acronym described below the headline. Sorry if there are any typos, they'll be fixed in time. Ive handwritten the book five chapters in, this is now me typing it out. Its about a mother, struggling to accept her husbands sinful lifestyle. She is a medical doctor and astrophysicist. They have one daughter, Isobelle who claims to hear the voice of God, calling him the "Old One." While she doesnt feature much on the first chapter, her extraordinary talents to predict things yet to happen, made Veronica believing in more than just UFOs. With her insight, government forces where about to track them down in a remote part of the Nevada desert. While fleeing, they fall through a weak desert floor into an old WW2 bunker. There the doctor has to find a way out before her husband surcombes to his injuries from the fall. But down there, she finds secrets that had been hidden since 1939. During their desert captivity, Isobelle shares things with her parents about the voiceswhich speaks to her, and ironically, her mother being a scientist is the only parent to take her seriously. One dialogue of Isobelle felt controversial to me, and spooky, but with help from my local Church, I decided to implement it wothout any spiritual guilt and features in the second chapter. I wont give much more than this away.


(exobiological, virology, international labs)

Chapter One

An Insidious Set of Events


In the Navada desert, a lonely campervan could only be seen from a Google map, possibly abandoned if anyone had seen it from those digital satellites mapping the geographical ranges, but lonely it was not. Inside it was very much alive and quite large, much larger than what it may look from the outside, deceiving as though you might have stepped inside Doctor Who's Tardis, or a child's mind would wonder as though they had walked through the oak doors of a wardrobe into Narnia... but unlike Narnia, it was far from cold. The sun from the vast desert, not all that far from the testing range of Area 51, would penetrate the thin metal walls and those sitting inside would feel like they had been sitting in a home-made microwave.

It was very nice inside the large Winabego, fit for a prince, laden with the very best of furniture from the industrial era, with the walls decorated in expensive paintings from the renaissance period... en suit of course, carpets untarnished as though they had only been bought yesterday and air conditioning, as much good it did. Dr. Veronica Masters, her husband Miles Masters and her daughter Isobelle all lived under this campervan fit for those who lived a luxurious lifestyle, but appearances can be deceiving. As much as it sounded like a holiday from your dreams, they rarely left the campervan, and only then it was to do shopping, and only the absolute essentials. They were effectively living in fear, and this is where our story really begins.

NASA Goddard space flight center, Greenbelt, Maryland

Dr. Masters was in charge of many things under this highly secret station, that dela with the cutting edge in space travel, and while it goes under this common description, its facilities deal also with things that the public are not so well acquainted with, such as exobiological threats, not just of the alien kind, but also extraterrestrial diseases and the management controls they put in place that only few eyes had ever read, one of those, "need-to-basis" things. And Dr. Masters was at the forefront of such management, not just being trained in astrophysics, she was well-trained in chemistry and biology, as you'd need to be if you were indeed managing and overseeing some of the countries most classified material on such matters. Of course, there were some around her, but not by much, who didn't have a scientific bone in their bodies, but still outranked even her. They where the men in black, and military officials who would occasionally come to the center and go into rooms which her security card would never give her clearance to. This is where her hard curiosity had started, 'what was behind those doors that military officials and agents of the FBI had clearance to, but not her own qualified workmen and workwomen'... soon turned into a more conspiratorial tone, 'what are they hiding that we cannot be allowed to see?'

Being a woman of science, she didn't think little green men, like the tin foil hat group would often elucidate on, but she knew that it was possible that in the belly of the center where rooms that could be harvesting evidence of a biological weapon system, either from here or from "up there," but if this had been true, she would often assure herself, "Well if there is, I'd know about it!"

But she also realised how pompous and presumptuous, maybe even outright grappled in self-superiority such a thought process was as she had read a physicist not long ago in an article that was now taking the UFO discussion more seriously, he said pretty much along the same lines, "if we are being intercepted by aliens, I would surely know about it!" Along the same lines, she remembers thinking, 'why do you think you would? What makes your academic mind so special that you would be one of those who would be a need-to-know guy? And even if you did know, she knew fromher own oaths that due to national security, people who worked for such high-tech places, are often told to the point of being threatened that any leak of classified information would land you in jail, possibly even worse, maybe classed as treason and sent to a gas chamber, or a needle ready to send you into a sleep you'd never wake from.

Then one day, the unthinkable happened, an official, not too highly ranked, so you might guess still a rookie, used his ID card to enter one of the rooms, and inexplicably, the door was left ajar. The renowned doctor could not help herself, she had to take a look. She may not have came into this high profile job to discover secrets that had been insidiously kept from herself and her colleagues, but it was now a case that the needing to know had taken over her common senses. As she tacitly tiptoed towards the door, she dared not enter immediately, just a glance would do. She did try and glance through the window once before, only to find that she could see nothing through the reinforced darkened plexiglass.

And what did she see? Nothing spectacular, just a long corridor, but there where more doors down both sides of this long corridor. She decided, after taking a look behind her, to both sides, to see if anyone was around, then she entered, being careful not to jam the door behind her. The first door she passed also had a window, but it was not darkened, so she looked in. She saw what looked like to be some kind of changing room reserved for the military officials. The military gear hanging off the stands and various army symbols and American military stamps on the lockers, presumably for more clothes. She didn't bide herself too much time, she decided to move further down to the next room, and peaked in as carefully as possible. A body moved by the window! Her heart was in her mouth, as she gave of a small gasp. Thankfully, whoever it was had only walked past, her line of sight never met his and she started to hear voices from the room, but she could not make out much, the rooms where almost ironclad and inexorably sound proof.

"Am I going too deep into this?" A common question that a sensible person would ask, .... "OK, just one more door," she said to herself in her quetiest tone. As she got to the third door, she took a look in from the corner of the window, she could see lab coats moving around, clocking their faces, they were scientists she could not identify. But this was the her best chance to take in as much detail as ever. The scientists appeared to be wearing level B hazmat suits, and as she knew, these were reserved for hazardous chemicals. So whatever materials they where dealing with in the various testubes protected behind further reinforced, must have been potentially dangerous upon human contact. Immediately this sent warning signs to the doctor, since it appeared she had been working in a center where hazardous materials where only 40 foot away in a room that had been until now, unaccessable. She was about to leave the secret hall, but she was compelled, one last time to take a look in the following room on the left of her, and looking in, she saw even more scientists, but the mystery was deepening.

She could see scientists, again, protected inside an air tight room, this time wearing a level A hazmat suit... its good being a scientist, she knew again what these where reserved for, they are gas tight suits, chemical-resistent gloves and boots which are metal capped. It occurred to her then, that the second room was dealing with chemical biohazardous materials, and the third room must be where these chemicals where being processed. She had enough, 'I've went too far she thought to herself, and as she turned to leave the hall, she heard voiced coming from the outside and realised that there was only one way in and one way out and she felt like a trapped animal ready to be caught by her prey. In her panic she ran down the hall a bit further and saw one room that appeared to be a storage room, this room though, had no security pass, so she pulled on the door handle in hope it would open, and viola! Her wish came true. she heard the reverberation of the voices that had got close to the entrance, 'the doors open General!"

She quickly jumped into the room, while carefully closing the door, just in time for the entrance door to be opened. Two Generals as they opening the door, scanned the corridor, and while suspicious, their suspicions had grown short by the third door, realising the labs where busy. "Its probably a worker who has been incompetent, we'll check the security camera outside soon, and trust me, when I find out which one of mine have done this, a sacking will be in order!"

All the doctor could hear was her breathing as she was was trying to find a safe place to hide in the overshadowing cabinets that dwarfed her, stark and tall, it was filled with all sorts of documents, but unusually cold, as though it had been refrigerated inside the room. "The air is being regulated," she said to herself, feeling her body quiver from goosebumps over her arms. After a few minutes she finally ran into a dead end, the large room that housed these supervast documents had stopped her in her tracks. She decided to hide behind one of the cabinets and tried to keep her breathing and panting to its lowest by covering her mouth with both her hands. As 10 turned into 20 minutes, 20 into 30, she her panic lessened, whoever it was that had came into the corridor, had not came into the room that she had so desperately seemed refuge in. She plucked enough courage to go back to the door but her salvage was short-lived as she came to find, with her utter horror, the entrance had been securely shut this time.

'I've walked into the belly of the beast,' she thought, and now like Jonah who had been swallowed by the great fish, her prospects of getting out was soon vanishing faster than the pale moon in a lonely night sky. Take that back, her panic lessened had now increased more than ever, how was the good doctor supposed to get out? While she was deliberating on how to do this, other insidious things where happening in a room not too far away. One Major General and one General had confined themselves in one of the conference rooms not reserved for the scientists, Major General Erving had gone on his walk talky and sent a message up to the command that was in control of the security cameras watching the moves of everyone and anyone who had entered the room in the last hour. It didn't take long for the man in charge to come across the culprit who had left the door open, but what surprised him more was the person who had gone in after, a civilian worker, doctor Marsters.

As time was running out faster than a lone hourglass in the night, the door to the storage room had opening and the doctor felt a sudden fright overcome her. She felt like a caged rat as the door into the storage room closed. Then she heard a welcoming voice, "Veronica, Veronica are you there?" No one in the establishment called civilian workers by their first name, she came out of her hiding space and looked down the long fleet of path surrounded by all the files that made the place look even more tenebrous. Then a body came into view, then a face, a welcoming face she considered a friend.

"Jason!" She shouted, but not too loud of course.

The man she called Jason came running towards her, hands straight upon her cold shoulders, " are you OK, you've not been hurt have you?"

"No, and even if I have, how am I getting out of here?"

"I've got a security card, I'll take you to the front door," Jason replied without haste.

The doctor shook her head, "I shouldn't have come in here, if they catch you taking me out, it will jeopardise your lifesake!"

Jason looked down to the ground, he said, "listen, at the end of the corridor, you'll come to two last doors, go to the last one on the left, it takes you into a fire exit. You don't need to use any security for that, it will lead you outside of the center."

By much of this conversation, General Erving had decided to report to communications to see if they had identified who had left the secured door unlocked, but to avail. He stormed out the conference room, ready to leave the corridor through the main door to get himself to the command center, when he heard a door open, it was the storage door. He quickly looked back without any haste and saw commander Jason slowly walking out the room, "Jason? I've been calling you for a report on who left the door open."

Jason quickly replied, " Sir, I checked the security tapes, it was lieutenant General Carter, he entered and left the door ajar."

" And where is this embecile now?" The Major General replied, in a most unsavoury tone.

"I don't know, he had a bunch of files with him, I just thought he may have been filing something away, hence why I'm here," as he lied through the skin of his teeth, save the papers thing. He could countt his blessings that much, without the documents, he might jot have been able to string the lie together.

The Major General began to walk towards him, then past him and took a look in the storage room, satisfied no one was there, he nodded his head and said, "get back to the command center, you're needed there."

"Yes sir, Jason replied in a coy and cautious way. He knew who was the boss after all. And of course, the Major General was satisfied no one was there, because no one was. While these events where happening, doctor Masters had already made her way to the designated fire exit and successfully out of the building, just as Jason had instructed faithfully. The doctor knew, from that moment, she could never go back, anyone who entered the building, was signed in, and anyone leaving, signed out, and there was only one way in and one way out. She knew that her job at NASA Goddard space flight center, was now a position resigned, as unwilling as it was. And as soon as they knew of her disappearance, too many questions would be asked and the security tapes would jeopardise her life... her families life included. It was time to expatriate the building and her exile would be one finely timed. But one which would come to forever taunt her.


In a quaint village, in the rural outskirts of the pastoral and pleasant fields surrounding Wiltshire in England, an older man, no olderthan 70 years, sat comfortably at his wicker table, with a steaming cup of Earl Grey, partially eclisped by a large oak tree that canopied above protecting his frail blemished skin from the midsummer sun.

He wasnt much of a sociable person, he much preferred to spend his time by himself. He had by him the local newspaper, sparingly reading the colomns as he relaxed under the cool of his well placed garden tree. Well, he wasnt completely alone… He did have a butler, but even his servent knew not to pester Mister Jenkins when he was having his afternoon tea break. That was, unless absolutely necessary, and for the most time, it wasn’t. This summer afternoon however, was going to prove slightly different in nature. Just as the man, dressed in tweed was about to take his third sip of tea, the voice of his butler sheepishly came from behind, “ sir, a telephone call.”

‘A telephone call’ he thought, ‘ at this hour?’

Almost offended at the very thought of something so simple, he snatched the black handheld device from his butlers hand and asked in an cold -hearted, almost robotic tone, without even investigating who it was, “ Yes! what is it?” of course, he didn’t need to even ask who it was, very few had his direct line, a number that only a select number of people had and would equally not dare bother him, unless… absolutely necessary.

“Ah, Mister Jenkins, its Rotherham here… There’s been s situation in Maryland that you need to know about. One of the assigned doctors on there had been snooping about.”

Mister Jenkins was a ‘no mess about sort of person,’ as usual and quick to the mark, “ project Sirius? What is it?”

“Doctor Veronica Masters, an employee entered a clasdified restricted area. We don’t know what she knows… but she’s now gone missing.”

His usually emotionless, wrinkled face began to show some genuine upset, “No one just goes missing.” … No one, except of course for those he wanted to ‘go missing,’ he quickly reminded himself in quiet thought. It was his line of work afterall. It was also his line of work to keep check on such matters. No one did his job better than him, or at least, he liked to think so, “project Sirius is a high stake game, Rotherham!”

“We’re already on it sir. By the time intelligence knew of this, by the time the reports of the security breach came back, she was long gone.”

Mister Jenkins gave off a sigh of disappointment,” don’t mess this up… Rotherham. If it turns out she learned too much and this leaks to the wrong people, I’ll make sure you disappear as well.”

Oh, Rotherham understood, he understood all too well. And Mister Jenkins never minced his words. Never. Mister Jenkins dealt with the most sensitive of national security matters and dealt with them like a man protecting his own kin. He was not a person aquainted to such secrets being in jeapardy, these things did not happen on his watch, and if they did, hell would be paid in full.

“I want a report in 24 hours Rotherham, I hope I make myself clear on this.”

And on that note, he hung up the phone and slammed it down on the wicker table.


Three years before

Veroni a remembered her first month working for the space flight center. Summoned to.a small room, she awaited her superior to call her in. She was punctual to the mark, yet she could remember her Director, a man who she often wondered how they got their job in this place. Beads of sweat could be felt dripping from her brow, but that was not a by-product of anxiety, but the ventilation had broken down and out of the four window in the office, only one was open, to her dismay. The only saving grace was a water dispenser. She remembered how cold the water was, like it had been brought fresh from the blue glaciers of the antarctic.

The secretary, whose table sat directly outside the office, sometimes looking up to nosey at tje rather uncomfortable doctor. Eyes met, and soon the secretary would look back down, typing away at her computer screen ‘ probably making timetable… God forbid the Director even needed one. As well-timely she had been for her appointment, the Director had made her wait an extra half hour when the voice came through telecom at the desk, goving instructions to the secretary to let her in now.

They’d never met beforehand, but her curiosity piled as she closed the door behing her from the prying earscof the secretary, and was invited to sit down at his desk, which had unremarkable features, save a laptop and presumably a photo of the wife back home. The director didnt take long to speak, “My staff had analysed you, to see if you were fit to work here… They told me then, that you where the most intelligent member of staff they had come across, I think you’re incapable. You’ve got interests lets say, that could be untoward our projects here. You’re too vivacious to work here. Being a potential liability, you are formally being asked to tender you resignation, effective today.”

‘I’ve only been here a month’ she thought. She never spoke out of line but she could unease from the Director, as though it wouldn’t have mattered if she had done somethng wrong, all she knew was from that momemt, he spoke to her like a school kid with no respect.

“You distrust my methods?”

She calmly replied, fixing her bandana in hope of taking in like a cloth the sweat that was dying to escape her forehead.

The Director crossed hands, just before closing over his laptop screen and leaned closer to her from his table.

“No, your capabilities as applied to your work, has never been unsurpassed, but your methodologies that appear to be laden as if carved in stone is that which is in question, which strongly suggests to me, could impede your work here.”

“What exactly is it I have done?”

She asked, in a more desperate tone.

“Or haven’t done? My intelligence officers have informed me you’ve got an unheathly interest in UFOs, that come from Alpha Centuri.”

He smiled, but this anchored her anger, she knew though, bosses who act like low functioning sociopaths, just best to try and get along. But she had to ask, something was at least obvious, “You’ve been spying on me?”

“Everyone is spied on, doctor Masters. From chat logs, to seemingly innocent conversations over a phone, and had been like this since 9/11.”

She thought, like on that tragic day, even her world was about to crumble from above her.

“I am allowed to have a personal life, personal beliefs, I dont see what this had to do with my work as a scientist at Goddard space flight center.”

The Director shook his head, and his face grew tired of her. Quite visible, he made no effort to hide it.

“It has everything to do with it. Going around thinking aliens are visiting us from a make-believe world can’t merge with our real scientific progress. I can only imagine your fellow peers would make a laughing stock of you.”

She snapped back, “you blame me for being reckless and vivacious, but you’re being egregious and facetious!”

But he himself, a Director acting more like a school boy had an answer to everything…

“Big words, from an equally big imagination. Tell me doctor, if I stood in front of a scientific assembly and told them what you are claiming, would the idea be met in open arms and open minds? I doubt it… don’t you?”

She stood up and replied, “science isn’t about debunking. Theories can never be disproven, you can either add or take away evidence. Its called Popper falsifiability.”

“And what evidence is there… enlighten me?”

“You’re a laymen, I could speak scientifically, but you’re not a scientist, how could you even keep up with what I know!”

He pointed to his right, wavong his head to and fro as though he where on a boat struggling to traverse the choppy waters.

“See that box in the corner, it’s recording EVERYTHING we say. It will be sent to a field office. I don’t profess to know everything, but your resignation hangs by a thread, willingly or not. The transcription will be analysed by a group of no more tham two other scientists. So elaborate doctor on what you think you know. If it turns out that you are telling scientific truths, you’ll keep your job, but of course if not, then tendering of your resignation will happen, and if you do not comply, it will be forced.”


And so, Dr. Veronica Masters, began her dialogue, lest reluctant, but willing. Food had to be brought to the tablewhile her husband would be off most nights, spending their savings on bar girls and copious amounts of drink and alchohol, not to mention a coke habit that he still denied flat to her face. Isobelle was her main concern. A job was a job, and buisiness was buisiness and money was which made the world go round.

“When I was only 13, myself and my family saw a UFO suspended above our house, no wings, no exhaust, no apparent means of transportation we could identify. After ten minutes of it being suspended above us, it veered off to the west and accelerated much faster than any aerial device that I knew of inside the military inventory of the time.”

Intertupted before she could continue, the Director asked im his now familiar condescending attitude, “How would you know what the military has?”

She took a breath and replied, “You can question my integrity, but not my fathers. He was a WW2 veteran, he had over 700 hours flying experience, and even he admitted, this was something… ‘supernatural and other-worldly.’ “

“My parents wanted me to become an artist or something mundane, but the experience we had that night, there was only one way for me to allay my curiosity and that was to become a scientist. I was a fresh, called by many, a bright student, not just in medical science, as I also trained as a physicist, an asyrophysicist to be precise. My Ph.D thesis was on ‘radiospectral chemical analysis on the atmosphere of extratterestrial worlds,’ yet while still in training for my medical degree, my heart largely lay on the mysteries of the physical world and I found solace in this endevour. It was said by my professor that I was ahead of my class. When I graduated with a Bachelors on medical science from Harvard, a spat of murders took place in America and that is what took me there. New to the whole thing, I specialised not on the criminal mind, or profiling, but my larger contribution from Harvard included a long study into cryosurgery. Basically, techniques that I helped to develop where surgery could be done to a patient using extemely cold chemicals and apparatus, to destroy damaged tissues with little to no bleeding. I had been summoned by the CIA to work on the case, with four fellow doctors.”

“Ah yes… The Humphry case?”

She noddex, but a sadness draped her face az she went on.

“Yes. After streneous and to be frank, arduous work, there was suspicion that doctor Humphry was subduing his patients using a toxin. During an autopsy, I found a strange stiffning of fat deposits on his victims. It soon struck me that the killer was using an insecticide called Dichlorodiphenyl Trichloroethane, at one time it was common in most households, and was largely responsible for wiping out Malaria in tropical countries. It is now banned in most countries, considered even here in the USA as a carcinogen by the EPA, quite harmful and in larger doses, fatal to birds and mammals. It was no more a stroke of luck than it was a mere insight, the compound is highly stable and had accumilated in the body fats of all his victims.”

“And whats this got to with aliens and UFOs?,” to which the good doctor replied, “ nothing, which is the whole point. Family and beliefs talked about in the comfort of your four walls, staus at home. Work and buisiness of work, remains in the workplace.”

The Director wrote something quickly on hissticky note pad amd said, as though none of this had been a big thing, “ That will be all, Mrs Masters.”


Two years after exile

Veronica, Miles and their daughter Isobelle remembered their exile… They preferred that to some dogma of being called fugitives on the run. They had left the East coast of Maryland, a long journey to a destination that Veronica dearly wanted to hide, to the west, down route 50 en route to 66, along what was called, the ‘Loneliest Road In America,’ to the heat-exhaustive desert plains of the Nevada desert, passing by the ‘extraterrestrial highway,’ where the loneliness seemed to, in part, wither away as the small towns here and there had been visited by people from all around the world, to see if they could glimpse, if only for a second, unusual crafts in the sky.

And lo, it was not the unusual atmosphere of the towns that beheld on them any creepy vibes, in fact the locals who had opened their shops where friendly enough, it was the empty run down ghost towns they past along the way which really made their hair stand on end. Miles, never showed much emotion, probably trained out of him from years of being in the stagnent atmosphere of the banking job he once held. While Veronica could feel how empty and void it was, eerily Isobelle would say from the back seat of their mobile home, leaving trails of dust behind these abandoned towns, “there’s been a lot of sadness here. You can still feel them wailing from the ground.”

Miles could never take her daughter seriously, in response he simply said as though making a badly-timed joke, “Yeah, well once there were waters here, mariners travelling great pelagic journeys would would draw maps, and if they had never seen it for their eyes they would write, ‘Monsters Be Here!’ “ Proceeding carelessly to hum the theme to the X files, or the exorcist tune, but he was tone deaf most of the time.

The two years had passed, still loaded with money thanks to dads money-hoarding, they rarely spent a dime if they needed to. Miles own father used to take him hunting, albeit, not in such harsh environments, but he thought of himself as a Bear Grylls type, whatever the land could give, he took. He even taught Isobelle how to eat the cacti that grew rampent in the area. Most fathers wouldnt havd dreamed about giving their daughter the sharpest of pen knives, but Isobelle was careful, and to him, a clever girl at only 14 years old. He taught her a vast array of edible fruits, even their scientific names (though he learned such technicals from his out door survival book) and she tried to memorise most. From the Cylindropuntia, Echinocactus, Echinocereus, the Escobaria, but her favorite by far was the common-named, Pancake Prickly Pear. Well, it was her favorite for two main reasons, it was one of the easiest cactus to remove its spines from the fruit with the sharp instrument her father bestowed to his daughter, and once it had been cooked for twenty minutes on a makeshift girdle, it tasted not all that bad. Her mum being of British decent, would laugh, “hunny, you call it a girdle, but its very congusing… . Try calling it a grittle.” A girdle she explained was also the name of a womans undergarment.

Being short on citrus fruit, her mother said it was a good source of vitamin C along with fibre. Last thing anyone wanted was to catch a bad case of scurvy. And they hunted wildlife of course, birds especially. Wild dog didn’t taste all that good. The main things their money went on, was toiletries, fuel for the car and water from the local town, around 25 miles away… Not to mention dads insatiable appetite for beer and the odd “Scooby snack.”

Chapter Two




Edited by Dubbelosix
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