Prelude & Origin
Okay, as I talked about, here’s the start of a different story. This one’s been stalling in my head, and considering how well “Adventure” went, this is the perfect way for me to break that stalemate. I think this will end up being longer than Adventure, but I started writing this one as a short story, so I guess that might show. I don’t really have a name for this one yet. If you have any thoughts after reading, let me know! Thanks, and enjoy!
Bolero is a small town cut in half by the Animas River in Southern Colorado. Not a large city, Bolero has a well developed downtown center, with a few office and apartment buildings. The real pride of the town is the Bolero Tech College which, thanks to the Centers For Disease Control, is a regional biological and bio-technical research center.
No one quite knows why the CDC chose to sponsor a relatively small local college, but no one complains because it brought in a lot of jobs and a little prestige for the town. So much so, that students actually move to Bolero just to go BTC for a bio-science education.
The remarkable thing about Bolero's branch office of the CDC, is the abnormally high presence of military security. Rumor has it that you need higher than Top Secret clearance just to get in the door. The official interns that work directly with and for the CDC cannot even work on site, they work in the public college professional lab space.
From time to time, loaded delivery trucks leave the heavily guarded complex and travel out into the desert and return later, empty. No one knows where they go, and speculation is heavily discouraged.
People in nearby have been muttering suspiciously about the CDC complex for a number of years, phoning in complaints about vibrations under ground and other strange goings on. Most is quickly dismissed as conspiratorial nonsense, and most of the city's residents pay the talk no mind. There are a few, however, that keep looking into the strangeness surrounding the complex. After more than a few disappearances, they have learned to keep a very low profile.
Some of the picturesque office parks that had sprung up along the Animas River have been described by the less charitable as "dirty hippie communes," but the people who worked there preferred "relaxed work environment" instead. The small group of business owners who developed the parks cut their teeth during the "dot com boom" in the mid-1990's and thought it might be an interesting idea to try and build real, profitable businesses that utilized the laid-back, casual style of work environment that was made famous, some would say infamous, at the time.
One such office was the small advertising firm Pop Marketing Unlimited. It was moderately successful, despite being plagued recently by several of its two dozen or so employees being suddenly hospitalized with various strange illnesses.
Junior designer Robert Dalton walked out of his boss' office and leaned on his best friend Debbie's desk. "Everything good, Robbie?" Deb asked.
"Oh, yeah", Robbie smiled, "It's always nice to know people think you're doing a good job. How's your day been?"
Deb smiled and rolled her eyes, "Oh, you know how it is."
They chatted amiably for a few moments, until Robbie got an odd look on his face. "Robbie? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. My hand feels weird," he brought his hand up to look at it, or he tried rather. His hand, and part of his forearm stayed firmly on the front of Deb's desk. "What the hell?" He pulled more firmly, and it actually hurt.
Deb saw the flash of pain and looked at Robbie in alarm, "What?"
He was about to repeat 'I don't know', but his vision began to swim, and he suddenly felt very faint, and abruptly passed out.
# # #
Bolero is a small town cut in half by the Animas River in Southern Colorado. Not a large city, Bolero has a well developed downtown center, with a few office and apartment buildings. The real pride of the town is the Bolero Tech College which, thanks to the Centers For Disease Control, is a regional biological and bio-technical research center.
No one quite knows why the CDC chose to sponsor a relatively small local college, but no one complains because it brought in a lot of jobs and a little prestige for the town. So much so, that students actually move to Bolero just to go BTC for a bio-science education.
The remarkable thing about Bolero's branch office of the CDC, is the abnormally high presence of military security. Rumor has it that you need higher than Top Secret clearance just to get in the door. The official interns that work directly with and for the CDC cannot even work on site, they work in the public college professional lab space.
From time to time, loaded delivery trucks leave the heavily guarded complex and travel out into the desert and return later, empty. No one knows where they go, and speculation is heavily discouraged.
People in nearby have been muttering suspiciously about the CDC complex for a number of years, phoning in complaints about vibrations under ground and other strange goings on. Most is quickly dismissed as conspiratorial nonsense, and most of the city's residents pay the talk no mind. There are a few, however, that keep looking into the strangeness surrounding the complex. After more than a few disappearances, they have learned to keep a very low profile.
* * *
Some of the picturesque office parks that had sprung up along the Animas River have been described by the less charitable as "dirty hippie communes," but the people who worked there preferred "relaxed work environment" instead. The small group of business owners who developed the parks cut their teeth during the "dot com boom" in the mid-1990's and thought it might be an interesting idea to try and build real, profitable businesses that utilized the laid-back, casual style of work environment that was made famous, some would say infamous, at the time.
One such office was the small advertising firm Pop Marketing Unlimited. It was moderately successful, despite being plagued recently by several of its two dozen or so employees being suddenly hospitalized with various strange illnesses.
Junior designer Robert Dalton walked out of his boss' office and leaned on his best friend Debbie's desk. "Everything good, Robbie?" Deb asked.
"Oh, yeah", Robbie smiled, "It's always nice to know people think you're doing a good job. How's your day been?"
Deb smiled and rolled her eyes, "Oh, you know how it is."
They chatted amiably for a few moments, until Robbie got an odd look on his face. "Robbie? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. My hand feels weird," he brought his hand up to look at it, or he tried rather. His hand, and part of his forearm stayed firmly on the front of Deb's desk. "What the hell?" He pulled more firmly, and it actually hurt.
Deb saw the flash of pain and looked at Robbie in alarm, "What?"
He was about to repeat 'I don't know', but his vision began to swim, and he suddenly felt very faint, and abruptly passed out.
Comments