The Odd Job

The Odd Job by Adam Allegro

The motel room was cold and still and stale, with darkness all but smothering the dying red of his cigarette. Dennis leaned against the beige headboard with his knees bent to the ceiling, feet flat on the made bed. An ashtray overflowed to his side, the remains of restless boredom and angst. A dead whiskey bottle and empty takeout boxes bookended a broken TV. Yellowed wallpaper was patterned with daisies and sunflowers. The ceiling fan was busted, the clock was busted, and the sink was backed up. Dennis missed his Castro studio. He missed Richard.

Despite the boozy, sleepless nights, he was sharp. He arrived five days ago. How much longer he’d be here was anyone’s guess. Still didn’t even know what the job was. Maybe he should have asked for more money. He took a final drag as screeching light danced across the curtains. An engine idled, footsteps approached, then three serious knocks and a deep barking shattered the stillness. 

“It’s time, guy! Wake up!” 

“I’m awake! Give me a minute.”

“Hurry up!” came another voice, higher pitched and more distant. “We gotta go now!” 

Dennis snuffed his cigarette and scooted out of bed. The empty bottle came to his lips and he tongued the final drop. Next he dressed and collected his things. The black duffel with the gear provided leaned in the corner, as his employer emphasized the importance of haste when the time came. For some reason they didn’t want him using his regular equipment. He learned not to ask questions on this type of job, as the generous pay more than satisfied any curiosity. 

He relieved himself, gathered the two 50 ml Jameson bottles and a nearly-empty pack of smokes, slipped into his black leather jacket, grabbed his bags and left.

Icy air sniped his cheeks and he shivered. The smaller of the two men walked around the black Chevy Caprice while the larger one held open the back door. Bright headlights painted the neighboring room, the engine hummed in the morning chill, and steam puttered from the exhaust.

“Tick tock guy, tick tock,” said the larger guy. “They’re waiting.” From the stains and wrinkles it appeared that neither man had changed outfits in the past five days.

“What time is it?” Dennis asked.

“Early. Get in.” 

He sat sandwiched between the two suits. An older driver with horn-rimmed glasses shot Dennis a critical look in his rearview then threw the Chevy into reverse. Another in the passenger seat just stared forward. Rising red dust trailed the skidding Caprice to the main road out of Ridgecrest, the motel fading into the black morning.

It was a silent, vacant drive. Dennis guessed it was around four as they neared the base, a used car dealership and high-interest loan shop their welcoming committee. A static E8-B Prowler stood kiddy corner on a sandy stand behind a sign that read Naval Air Weapons Station China Lake. They veered left to the security checkpoint. A deadpan guard in full combat dress and M-16 rifle, his finger hovering over to the trigger, approached the Caprice. 

“Good morning sir. Your papers?” He was formal yet stern.

“We’re here under Dr. Herbst’s orders,” replied the driver. “I’m just going to retrieve our documents from the glove compartment.”

As the man removed their clearances Dennis spotted a shiny silver handgun with two clips of ammo tucked further back. The driver handed over the documents and rested his hands on the wheel.

After examining the papers the soldier scrutinized the vehicle, his breath heavy like reactor steam. He jotted down the license plate and continued to the other side. Upon completing his inspection he entered the wooden guard shack and held a phone to his ear. A few moments later he returned.

“Thank you for your patience, sir. Proceed directly to Station 31. They are expecting you.” He ushered them through and they accelerated into the lightless desert. 

“So, what’s the deal?” Dennis asked anyone but no one answered. Silence it would be.

They traveled down the narrow dusty road while a billion stars twinkled wildly overhead. Rolling hills and junior mountains stretched the moonless horizon. Random structures dotted the landscape, most of which were dark with some illuminated. Dennis’s bounding thoughts circled around Richard, who died suddenly two years prior. He remembered their road trips and their date nights and the way only Richard could make him laugh. He didn’t laugh much these days. Didn’t do much of anything outside of work these days. 

The road squiggled and the wind intensified, and Dennis grew anxious; more variables than normal. Gotta focus. The stars were resolute, brilliant and twinkling. Dennis wanted to stop, get out of the car, walk around, gaze upward. He yearned to lose himself in that sky. He also needed to urinate. And a smoke wouldn’t hurt.

Further afield radiant light shimmered the desert. Distance, deceptive and misleading in the Mojave, gradually revealed a massive hangar with bright white light spilling out at random. Automobiles freckled the substantial parking lot. When high beams breezed across their dusty frames Dennis surmised they hadn’t been driven in days, weeks maybe. Two armed soldiers stood guard at the hangar’s entrance. The sign above read: Station 31 – Restricted Access Modules. 

“It’s been great getting to know you boys,” said Dennis. “Really enjoyed the conversation.” 

The driver grunted and Dennis exited the Caprice behind his larger caretaker. 

“We’ll be here when you’re done, guy.  Then you’ll get the rest of what you’re owed.” He ducked back into the car, “Don’t screw this up.”

“Got it.” Dennis nodded, slightly annoyed. He walked towards Station 31 eager to get on with it.

The soldiers opened the hangar door and came to attention as an older man and younger woman in white lab coats emerged. 

“Good morning Mr. Owen. My name is Dr. Herbst. This is my assistant, Dr. Fairchild. I do apologize as we haven’t time for appropriate formalities. We must get to work. Do you have the equipment?”

“Yea, it's all in here.” Dennis held up the duffel bag.  “What exactly do you need me to do?”

“You will find out soon. Please join us and everything will be explained.”

Dennis followed the scientists into an empty airlock where a sustained burst ruffled his clothes and hair. The opposite hatch clicked open and they emerged into a giant atrium with numerous doors to either side, as well as two larger sliding doors further afield. 

“Before we enter you must understand that everything you are about to see is classified at the highest level. Your temporary clearance is to do your work, which is crucial to our endeavors here. You must maintain the highest degree of discretion upon departure and everything will be just as it was before. After all, we are paying you handsomely for your prudence.” Dr. Herbst’s smile turned stern. “If you decide you want to tell stories, well… let us not go down that route. So, Mr. Owen, are we clear on what is expected?”

“I still don’t know what’s expected. As for me talking, you don’t have to worry about that. Here to do the job and get paid, that’s all.” 

Dr. Herbst chuckled. “This will be a challenging story to keep to yourself, Mr. Owen. As for the details, you will have them soon. Now, we must hurry.” 

He swiped a card and a door clicked open. A long corridor extended before them, with a window walling the whole right half. Through the glass were various structures dressed in translucent plastic, and hasmated scientists scurried between the sections like diligent ants. Having not spoken, Dr. Fairchild held her untrusting eyes on Dennis like an eagle.

“You can change here,” said Dr. Herbst, keying open the locker room. “We prepared an outfit for you.” He pointed to a locker in the corner of the room. “Hang your soiled linens there. No contaminated items are permitted inside, so change everything. Someone will retrieve your tools and properly sterilize them. No time to lose here, Mr. Owen!”

Dr. Herbst and Dr. Fairchild left, and Dennis was finally alone. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled. 

“Idiot. What have you gotten yourself into this time?” 

When his eyes opened some of the anxiety had dissolved. He placed the duffle on the floor and undressed, hanging his clothes where directed. Anticipation welled and thoughts wandered. There had been peculiar jobs in the past shrouded in secrecy, but nothing quite like this. As Dennis pulled up the provided boxer briefs, an intern with a skinny mustache above ambitious lips appeared.

“Good morning Mr. Owen. Fantastic. I’ll sterilize your gear and meet you inside.”

Before Dennis could respond the intern took the duffle and left. Dennis stepped into a blue HAZMAT suit and wiggled it up his wiry frame. He didn’t eat much these days. Didn’t do much of anything these days.

The inner door opened and two men staggered into the locker room. One was large as a small bear and the other short as a tall tree stump. The bigger one looked at the floor as words struggled from his trembling mouth. His big belly heaved cavernous, panicky gasps. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I…I…Wha…What the fuck was that?” the man whispered, weeping. “What was that, Charlie?”

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Walter.” Charlie rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “C’mon big guy, look at me!”

Dennis realized that he had been staring. He pulled on the booties and latex gloves, fixed his facemask, and flopped the hood over his head. Walter looked at Dennis and spoke like a child to an adult.

“Did you see it? Did you? What is it…? Where’s it from…? How did it know about… her…? There’s no way…”

Dr. Herbst returned with his assistant, both suited in white HAZMAT suits. They ignored the shaken men and approached Dennis. Masks obstructed their faces and muffled the doctor’s words.

“Everything in order? Ready to go? All right, Mr. Owen, follow me. No time to spare.” 

Inside the control room two HAZMAT suited scientists typed at their consoles, and between them was a large metal door with a glass porthole. Dr. Herbst opened the airlock wheel, leading Dennis and Dr. Fairchild into the next room then securing the hatch behind them. 

A circular gray ceiling covered in hundreds of shiny jets was set above a gunmetal floor of porous, steel grating. A scientist appeared at the porthole signaling a thumb’s up. Dr. Herbst did the same.

“Brace yourself, Mr. Owen.”

Suddenly the jets roared to life and the airlock filled with thick white fog. Then a baritone vacuum sucked everything out. Dr. Herbst opened the far hatch when it was clear.

Next was a sterile chamber where a low ceiling rose over an opaque, porcelain floor. Instincts told Dennis to turn around and walk out while he still had the chance. Instead he surveyed his scene.

“Well, Mr. Owen?”

“Ready whenever,” he lied. 

Dr. Herbst nodded. “Your equipment will be here momentarily. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

The two scientists departed through the double doors to the right, and Dennis was alone again. He scanned the empty room and wondered what waited. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted a drink. Just to get through this, whatever this is. The airlock opened and the intern entered with a white bag the same size as his duffle. He placed it at Dennis’s feet, murmured “good luck”, and left.

Dennis removed the metal legs and extended them, then raised the sturdy neck to chest level, adjusting the head to align with the far wall. Next he pulled out the bulky Rolleiflex camera and secured it to the tripod. He sighted down through the plastic material protecting the top lens and tested his focus with the oversized dial on the lead cover. Reading the light, he adjusted his aperture and shutter speed accordingly. Once everything was dialed, Dennis advanced the film and contemplated his setup. Nervous excitement and curiosity surged.

The scientists returned with a third short and plump one pushing a cart holding a transparent diamond-encrusted box. Inside, fixed to the top, a black rod protruded down an inch. A small black pipe extended out holding a control panel and lever, which connected to an identical rod rising off the bottom. Scattered around the base glowed a cloudy, plasma-like ash. 

Dr. Herbst pointed to something on Dr. Fairchild’s clipboard, then nodded at the third scientist’s quiet explanation before approaching Dennis.

“Remarkable, is it not, Mr. Owen?” 

“What… is it?”

“That I can not tell you. Both because your clearance does not permit it, and because we only know very little about the entity.” 

“Entity?”

“We have no other way to classify it. Instead of DNA it is built of something… else. And extremely reactive to sounds, even in its static state. You see, Mr. Owen, it requires energy to exist, like us. Difference is that this creature, this specimen, has no central nervous system, no circulation, and no transmission in the physical sense, yet it behaves semi-consciously. We discovered that if we set off an EMP close by we can stun it a short while. Once we establish a vacuum with the bottom mechanism it renders the entity inert.”

Dr. Fairchild whispered in his ear. He nodded, cleared his throat, and continued.

“Now this is where you come in, Mr. Owen. We have been unsuccessful in accurately depicting the entity. Our attempts have failed to produce anything of value. The problem’s mostly equipment. Every small electrical device gets fried, which rules out most options. The film also exposes as soon as it enters the same room. So we developed a camera dressed in a lead suit with high-density synthetics for lenses. I was told you are familiar with its operation?”

“I am.”

“What we require is quite simple. You will make a series of photographs. We are scientists, not artists. Our attempts are calculated and measured, and miss most of the essence, the beauty… the reflected humanity! We are not simply attempting to classify this being from an objective standpoint. As much as we strive to understand it, we want to admire and be moved as well. So, Mr. Owen, please get to work. There are twelve pictures on that roll, though I believe you won’t need nearly half. Please work with haste, the vacuum can only be maintained for so long.”

Dr. Herbst acknowledged Dr. Fairchild and she departed with the other scientist. Dennis framed the scene. He moved his tripod a few feet in front the diamond box, slightly off to the right, and lowered the Rolleiflex to be even with his subject, then peered into the shielded reflex screen to find his focus. It was time.

Dennis readied the shutter release and counted from three. The instant he pressed the button there came a booming snap. The entity shot to the top as a miniature storm cloud flashing the most brilliant shimmering blue, and a rush of sensations crashed around Dennis’s body. He heard intense colors and smelled delicious sounds, tasted the sweet palate of a sunrise and looked upon the sublime nature of a melody. He felt his body wither and decay and turn to dust. Then he felt nothing. A spark of fusion, then a burst of expansion, and Dennis grew from a single cell into a man. The sensations were beyond comprehension.

As the charcoaled fog settled at the bottom of the box Dennis almost felt normal again. Dr. Herbst, scribbling in his notepad, appeared unphased by the strange occurrence. 

Something otherworldly compelled Dennis to continue. He advanced the film and carried the tripod around to the box’s rear to include the scientist in the frame. He looked from Dr. Herbst to the entity, then peered into the lens and tightened focus. A sweat bead slid down his right sideburn to his cheek and dispersed around the stubble covering his chin. He rotated the camera slightly to balance the frame and counted down from three, this time aloud, then took the picture. 

The entity banged against the transparent barrier, wobbling the diamond box, glowing blue and violet and red as it hovered and vibrated. The lights flickered and the room danced between day and night before steadying on something between. A flood of emotions bored through Dennis like bullets. Unbound joy swirled with the deepest despair. Orgasmic bliss accompanied unrestrained glee, and fury. Crippling regret swirled with freeing relief, depression and elation existed as one. There was loss and longing, and Dennis wanted to kill himself, and to live. The cacophony forced violent sobbing and irrational delight. He was love. He was infinite. He was liberated.

Upon gaining control of his emotions, Dennis’s head tingled like a sleeping limb waking. The entity floated freely, quivering and bouncing side to side, pulsing into different geometric, organic and abstract shapes. Dennis glanced at Dr. Herbst, who continued writing in his notebook. Things were significantly weirder, but Dennis was too invested to move anywhere but forward, his uncertain fear curbed by a profound sense of intrigue and adventure. He advanced the film and situated closer, measuring through the lens, focusing and opening the aperture to allow more light. Then he counted down and made the picture.

A cannon blast reverberated the room dark. The entity materialized to an inky rainbow and slammed to the rear. It paused, building its energy, and blasted forward like a comet, fracturing the barrier into a web of fissures. Dennis flew backwards, but instead of landing hard he accelerated through the floor and careened into blackness. A gurgling sound made him feel like the last drop of water sucked down a dark drainpipe to nonexistence. Unbridled terror followed by peace and equilibrium. Stasis.

This was the abyss. Nothing. Oblivion. For an eternity he existed in the blackness with all sense of time and space alien and unmeasured. In perpetuity he floated, until suddenly a blinding light banged in the endless distance. Creation unfolded and Dennis beheld the tragedies of being, the cosmic gravity that manufactured stars and sculpted planets. He witnessed the Earth’s fierce beginnings and the eons spent molding her into paradise. Then he watched life begin in the bubbling black depths, mutating and competing until emerging onto rich soils, mutating and competing still; constant life and death, never-ending.

He observed the dinosaurs die off and his ancestors rise. He saw future world leaders suckling at their mothers’ breasts and forgotten despots rotting in radioactive dirt. He lived ten thousand lives. He saw war and peace and love and hate, and all that came before and all that will ever be. Dennis realized that he and his were not the first, nor would they be the last to spin amongst the heavens. It was everything. The more he was shown, the less he understood, until none of anything made sense. Creation and destruction, life and death, inertia ongoing until the momentum stops and the lights go out. Unbridled chaos. Then it all repeats. 

The flickering ceiling ushered Dennis back. He was sprawled on the floor behind the tripod, which was somehow still upright. Before him was the fractured shell. The entity inside was a trembling black cloud of shifting colors and textures dancing and banging about. Dennis needed another picture, and the entity beckoned him like a familiar lullaby. He moved the tripod to where he began, advanced the film, focused and set the aperture. Dr. Herbst was completely disconnected, almost almost as if on a loop. 

Dennis tuned his focus. The entity flung around like a demon enraged, its mass morphing through an electric rainbow.

“A caged animal,” he whispered, hoping the next exposure would break the shell and set it free. He held up the shutter release and skipped the countdown.

A shattering crack boomed the room dark and the diamond enclosure exploded into a million pieces. They blasted outward like burning meteorites, peppering the room with tiny fires that froze like the starry sky. The humming entity drifted like a balloon through the fragments, stopping inches in front of Dennis and slowing its rotation before morphing into human form, whose features and details unfolded gradually like a sketch artist’s rendering.

Dennis was awestruck. Glowing like a star was his late husband, Richard. Dennis’s knees went limp and his balance followed. Steadying himself on the tripod, he knocked the Rolleiflex to crash on the porcelain floor.

Richard Smiled. “Dennis… Let me look at you.”

“Wha…”

“This isn’t really me, at least the same me you know. I am here though. I’m always here. But you know that.”

Dennis trembled, and a tear crawled from the corner of his eye. “How is this possible?”

“So much is possible. Oh, how I miss you.”

He brushed his charged fingers across Dennis’s cheek. Tears hissed and evaporated when they touched Richard’s electric skin.

“You must let me go. I’m somewhere else now, and you will join me one day. It won’t be what you expect. Does a jellyfish know the Eiffel Tower? This,” Richard swept his arm around the room. “Is a sliver of what is.”

Dennis panicked. The moments were nearing their end.

“There’s so much I want to tell you. I… I don’t know where to start.”

“What’s important?”

Dennis held Richard’s jolting blue eyes and said the important thing.

“I love you, Richard.”

“And I love you, Dennis.” He moved closer. “I need you to do something for me. Say goodbye and move forward with your life. Do that for us. Do that for you.”

It was explosive and otherworldly when they kissed. Dennis understood what he needed to do. And he accepted it.

Richard’s form flickered. He smiled and his features started to fade.

“Goodbye,” Dennis choked through cascading tears.

“Goodbye.”

The entity reassembled itself into the cloudy, inky substance from before. Something clanked to the right, followed by a closer one an instant later. When the EMP grenade exploded Dennis was hurled back for the second time that morning. Then everything went black.

He came to with ringing ears as fuzzy bodies sprinted at the stunned entity. They covered it with a huge metallic bag and sealed it shut. Lethargic jerks and wiggling from inside intensified with every passing second of the oddly human struggle.

Dr. Fairchild pushed past the soldiers and pressed a red button on top of the bag. A contained burst jolted the bag and the entity went limp. The scientist heaved the bag over her shoulder like a sack of soil and hurried to the double doors. The soldiers gathered the Rolleiflex and tripod and followed her. Dr. Herbst was unconscious against the back wall.

Confused and jumbled, Dennis staggered to his feet and followed Dr. Fairchild and the soldiers. As he crossed the barrier into the space he was met with the shattered remnants of countless other diamond containment boxes scattered across the floor, browned ash covering everything. Dr. Fairchild dumped the bag’s dusty contents and the soldiers tossed the camera and tripod into the far corner of the room like discarded junk.

Bordering the mess was the most unusual collection of objects. There was a painting of a diamond box, except this box was shaped like a circle. The canvas was rigidly torn down the center. There was an unfinished sculpture, square and partially hollow with a cloudlike object chiseled into the middle. One of the square’s corners had been forcefully chipped off. A book lay in the ashes open to an incomplete handwritten passage. Dennis made out some lines that poetically described the entity. Part of a vinyl record leaned against a larger diamond shard in the back corner. There were carvings and sketches and song lyrics and movie scripts, none of which were complete. Each seemed like an attempt to depict the entity. All of it was strewn amongst a heap of broken diamonds shuttered back in some obscure room on a secret base in the desert. Forgotten like last month’s garbage. Dennis didn’t understand, but it made him sad.

“What is all this?” he asked.

Dr. Fairchild spun around. “What the hell’s he doing in here? The artists aren’t supposed to see this!”

Four pairs of arms enveloped him and dragged him from the room, past a waking Dr. Herbst, and dumped him in the airlock. The hatch slammed shut and he was left on his back as the decontamination process started. Once the roar finished Dennis rose to his feet and stared blankly through the outer porthole at more waiting soldiers.

Later in the locker room he removed the suit and threw it against the wall. He wondered if maybe he was in shock as he dressed, trying to make sense of what just occurred, when the control center door opened 

“Hello Mr. Owen.” Dr. Herbst was banged up but smiling. “I apologize, I must have slipped and lost consciousness. It was most fortunate that Dr. Fairchild was there to intervene or who knows what might have happened.”

He studied Dennis, who looked back drained and perplexed.

“I want to thank you for your effort and assure you it was not wasted. Unfortunately I cannot elaborate on any events that might have unfolded, and please do not mention a word of this to anyone. You will be rewarded adequately for your work and discretion upon your departure. The United States Government thanks you.” Then he left without another word.

Outside the hangar the desert air was crisp, and Dennis breathed it in like a valuable resource. The sun straddled the horizon, dyeing a new day across the sky, and wind pushed his exhausted frame as he walked to the idling Caprice. The smaller suit with the higher voice urinated in the dunes behind the car, and the larger one waited at the back door holding a thick envelope. 

“Well, what was it? You saw it, right?”

Dennis said nothing. Now it was his turn to be silent. He took the payment and slid into the back seat, scooting to the passenger's side to make the smaller one sit in the middle. Then he looked out the window at the dawning colors and laughed.