March Forth (The Woodford Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  “It was… well,” Steven stammered. “It was a bit difficult to understand. I didn’t recognize any of the symbols.”

  “And yet you scored quite well,” Larsen said smoothly. “Finally, tell me more about the biker you encountered when you were a child. That was… let me see,” he shuffled through some papers on his clipboard. “That was 1998, correct?”

  “Yes… yes sir. I was ten. Um…. The guy just drove by, turned around, pulled up in front of me, and told me, ‘That’s not how you treat the lady, friend,’ then drove off.”

  “Did he specifically say, ‘the Lady,’ or did he say ‘a lady’?”

  “The Lady. I’m sure about that. It confused me, trying to figure out who he meant.”

  “What do you think he meant by that statement?”

  “I honestly have no idea. I mean, there was no lady present. My mom and aunt were inside. I was ten. I have no idea what he was talking about.”

  “What did the man look like?”

  “Uhhhh… he was black. Small guy, but looked like he was in good shape. Had on black clothes.”

  Larsen nodded as if satisfied. He removed a photograph from the jumble of papers on his clipboard and put it on the table in front of Steven. “Was that the man you saw?”

  Steven studied the picture. His memory of that day was fourteen years old but still quite vivid. The man in the picture looked almost exactly like the man he had seen; short hair shot with grey, black clothes. The eyes, however, looked a little different. Not as frightening as Steven remembered. “It looks like him, sir. But the eyes are wrong. Less… dark. He had very dark eyes. Not just the color, they looked kind of… haunted, I guess. His eyes scared me.”

  Larsen nodded again. “Why did you choose that experience when asked about unexplainable and unusual experiences?”

  “It just popped into my head,” Steven confessed. “I didn’t know what else to put.”

  “Good, good,” Larsen said while he scribbled some notes on a paper Steven could not see. “Now, Mr. Drisbane, I’d imagine you have some questions for me. You may ask them.”

  A thousand questions were screaming in Steven’s mind, but he started with the most recent query to join the bunch. “Why do you have a photograph of a man I saw for about thirty seconds when I was a kid?”

  “Excellent question. That man is Chief Admiral David Carver. He founded our organization, about forty years ago. He deserted his post about fourteen years ago. I believe you saw him days after his desertion, though he may have been operating within a different timeline than you or me.”

  Though Steven was confused by the General’s comment about a timeline, he decided it would make more sense to respond to the issue that made more sense in his worldview. “Chief Admiral…. That’s a Navy rank,” he pointed out. “’General’ is not. I’m a little confused by your rank, sir.”

  “Excellent observation.”

  Several long, awkward, silent seconds passed before Steven hesitantly asked, “Could you… could you explain why your rank is general?”

  “Ah, of course. You just need to ask, boy. I’m a general because I’ve been in the army a very long time and done my job well,” Larsen stated plainly.

  “You’re in…. the army?”

  “Of course.”

  Steven stared blankly at him for several long seconds. “I’m… I’m Navy.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Again, several long seconds passed while the two men stared at each other in silence. Larsen looked totally sincere and unperturbed. Steven tried to figure out how to proceed. Finally, he said, “Am I being reassigned to work with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And… How would our working relationship be defined?”

  “I’d be your general,” Larsen said with maddening simplicity.

  Steven pinched the bridge of his nose to try to ward off the pressure that was building in his temples. “Why would I, as a naval petty officer third class, have an army general to report to?”

  “Ahhhh, good one. The truth of it is, our organization has recruited men and women from all branches of the military, and even a few non-military types who know their stuff really well or provide some kind unique service or asset to us. But most of us are military. Since our true work is not public knowledge, we keep everyone’s ranks from their former positions, and promote them in accordance with the ranks of their branch of the military. This way, we can tell our families about promotions and whatnot without letting on about the true nature of our organization.”

  Steven mulled this over. “What, exactly, is the true nature of the organization?”

  “I thought I’d explained. We study the contained energy that could be called ‘magic.’ We find uses for it. We keep it safe, and we harness it for the greater good of our country.”

  “And… what will my role be?”

  “As far as anyone else knows, you are working in another meteorology station. But in reality, to start, your role will be student. You have a lot to learn, our training program takes about two years. Consider yourself re-enlisted. Now, come. I will show you to your quarters. Get a good night’s sleep. Your lessons begin at 0700 tomorrow.”

  So Steven became a student.

  He learned, over the next two years, that magic was incredibly responsive to belief. The actual molecular energy would transmutate in reaction to certain beliefs, or lack of belief. Therefore, someone who didn’t believe in magic would never actually see magic, in its raw state. The organization, in containing the energy and using it as a tool of sorts – a fuel for their technological tools, really – had found ways to keep it “sanitized,” unaffected by belief.

  He learned that the color black attracted natural energy, and that energy could be used to boost the magical energy that powered their technological instruments. For that reason, all of the organization’s uniforms were black.

  He learned that many magic-powered tools had been invented and developed by the organization for which he now worked. Specifically, they had been invented by Chief Admiral David Carver. The man had apparently started out as an old-school practitioner of magic, engaged in occult dealings and elaborate rituals. Somehow, over time, he had figured out how to isolate the magical energy and use it to power technological devices that made it accessible to the common man. He had enlisted the help of others, of inventors and soldiers and anyone else he could find. They had tweaked, streamlined, and upgraded the devices as new technologies were developed. Eventually, the government began subsidizing the development.

  It started as a small group. Carver hand selected a few people to help him bring his ideas to life. Then, as their budget grew and the government’s interest in their work heightened, they started bringing in more experts and using their inventions to serve the greater good of their country. They set up shop in Maine, and enlisted people from various branches of the military. The organization was formed.

  Many of the original devices invented by Carver were still used by the organization, and Steven learned to use them well. One such instrument, sardonically called “the Wand,” was standard issue for all operatives. It had the power to alter molecules and transform existing reality and even to track individual molecules, among other things. If one wished it, they could use their Wand (which was actually a small, rectangular device that looked not unlike a smart phone) to make someone invisible; they could then use the Wand to find the invisible person, wherever they might be.

  Another instrument, given the witty moniker “the Broom,” allowed agents to travel hundreds of miles within seconds just by pushing a button.

  Steven learned to use such devices with skill, and how to live as an operative in such a secret organization. He learned the importance of secrecy, and of dedication to furthering the cause of using accessible magic to support the greater good.

  Mostly, though, he learned a lot about Chief Admiral David Carver.

  Carver, as Steven would learn, had deserted his post eighteen years earlier. He had g
otten the organization up and running, invented the basic tools they used and inspired them to continue the work, and then he had simply, inexplicably disappeared. It was said that he had become more and more withdrawn in his last few years before deserting, isolating himself completely from his fellow operatives. His behavior became odd and erratic. He would disappear for long lengths of time, and come back… changed. He would never tell any of his operatives details about where he went during these disappearances, only saying he was gathering data.

  His eyes told a different story though, as they grew more haunted and more distant with each disappearance. He seemed to be slipping into a dark, lonely world, and no one knew how to reach out to him and bring him back to their reality. Some pontificated that all of his work with the magical energy was backfiring, and the energy was somehow taking him over. He did not share what went on in his mind, though, so no one knew for certain.

  During his last weeks in Maine, Carver’s behavior became utterly incomprehensible. He would scream at operatives for things that they had not yet done. He would leave a meeting to go to the men’s room, and call thirty minutes later from Australia, uncertain how he got there. It was as if he had some strange, magical version of Alzheimer’s, with all of the confusion but none of the constraints of time and space. No one in the organization knew how to deal with it.

  Then, one day, he just vanished. They searched for him, of course. They searched the entire planet, using their Wands and every trick they knew. Occasionally, they would pick up a faint trace of his unique energy readings, which they called an energy signature. It was never more than a trace, though, and never enough to follow. It was unknown whether Chief Admiral David Carver even still walked the earth. Various operatives presented long, involved theories hypothesizing that Carver had gotten lost in some unknown dimension, or that he had actually died. No one could prove any of these theories beyond all reasonable doubt.

  But the organization lived on.

  After Steven had studied for two years, he was sworn in as an officer of the organization. The oath was not terribly different than the one he had taken when he joined the Navy. He was being promoted to ensign, though, so he took The Oath of Office for officers, which was slightly different than the original oath he had taken. Also, with the organization being what it was, there were a few practical modifications.

  In front of a panel of commanding officers and alongside several other new officers, Steven raised his right hand and swore: “I, Ensign Steven Drisbane, having been appointed an officer in the Navy of the United States, as indicated in the above grade of ensign, do solemnly affirm that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign or domestic, from this plane of reality or any other; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations, under no magical influence, and with no purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

  (The parts that mentioned specific rank and branch were a little garbled, as the new officers, from various branches of the armed forces, took the oath in unison.)

  Steven wasn’t an overly emotional young man, but as he took the oath, he had a tear in his eye. His chest swelled with pride. He had come to truly love the organization and their work; it made him feel as if he had finally found out the secrets of life he always suspected were there. He loved being separate from the mundane world, from ordinary people with their boring, trivial lives. He could actually use magic, with the purpose of protecting and improving his country. It was like a boyhood daydream come true. He felt like a superhero.

  Once he was sworn in, Steven would be given his first assignment. He was so excited to find out what it would be that he could barely stand it. However, there was a small reception first (at least they served lunch – free food went a long way toward helping him push aside his impatience); by the time the two hour event ended, Steven’s leg was involuntarily twitching with sheer anticipation.

  Finally, after the festivities, one of the organization’s colonels handed out black envelopes to the new officers. Each of them opened their envelope, read the paper inside, and burst into excited chatter. All around, young officers were gleefully shouting things like, “I’m going to be a Wand specialist!” and, “I’m an energy tracker!” and even, “I’ve got ‘boogie man’ patrol!” (There was no actual boogie man; ‘boogie man patrol’ was the organization’s amusing nickname for the task force assigned to prevent negative backlash when magical energy was discharged. The energy, in its raw state, worked by the Golden Rule philosophy, “What you put out will be returned to you threefold.” The Boogie Man Patrol used technological development to prevent this from happening at inconvenient times.) Everyone seemed very pleased… except for Steven. He wordlessly stared at his paper as if waiting for the words typed on it to change.

  One of the other new officers noticed, and said, “What’s wrong, Drisbane? Where’d they stick you?”

  Steven shrugged, and walked away. The organization had taught him discretion. He saw no reason to tell the other new officers that his paper said only, “Room 301, 6:00 tonight.”

  At 5:59 pm, he knocked on the door of room 301. At precisely 6:00 pm, it opened. General Larsen was nothing if not absolutely literal.

  “Come in, Drisbane, have a seat,” the General said as he ushered Steven into a room nearly identical to that in which they had had their first meeting. They both wore the standard black uniforms this time, but Steven’s sense of confusion and dread felt all too familiar.

  “Why was I not given an assignment, General?”

  “You were. You just weren’t given a paper explaining your assignment.”

  Now that he was quite used to Larsen’s ways, Steven followed up with another direct question.

  “Why was I not given a paper explaining my assignment?”

  “Ah. That is an excellent question. You’re quite good at asking excellent questions, have I ever told you that? Well, now I have.” Larsen shuffled through some papers on the table in front of him. “You were not given a paper, Drisbane, because you are being given a special assignment, the likes of which the organization has not embarked upon in the past.”

  “I…wow,” Steven said, nonplussed. “Doing what, exactly?”

  “You are going to find David Carver and bring him in by any means necessary.”

  Steven blinked several times. “David Carver? Chief Admiral David Carver? The founder? I thought he was dead, or in another dimension or something.”

  “Those are rumors. We know that he is alive. For the past couple of years, there have been more and more traces of his molecular structure and energy signature picked up by our equipment. He never stays in one place long enough for us to catch up to him, and we cannot seem to predict where he will turn up next.” Larsen sighed. “For over a decade, he was either laying low or simply … not himself. We have seen more evidence of him in the past year than we have in the past decade as a whole.”

  “If this has been going on for over a year, why wait ‘til now to bring him in? Why didn’t you track him down a year ago?”

  “Couple of reasons. First, we needed to train the right candidate to catch the man. It may not be as simple as finding him and bringing him here. He may not be the same man he was before he left. It’s been a very long time.”

  “What makes me the right candidate?”

  “Honestly? There have been too many ‘coincidences’ involving you and him. I have learned, in my years on this earth, that there is no such thing as coincidence. You actually met Carver, albeit briefly, just as he was deserting his post. Then, by a completely unrelated string of so-called ‘coincidences,’ you caught the attention of the organization and joined us, yourself. While you were taking your entry exams, you inexplicably felt the desire to describe your meeting with Carver, even though you had no idea who he was or what it meant. That’s
too much ‘coincidence,’ if you ask me. It means something. I think there’s a good chance you will be the man to find him.”

  Steven’s ego deflated a bit that the General hadn’t said something more grandiose, something along the lines of, “We’ve been waiting for a man with your talents!” However, he did his best to hide his disappointment.

  “Has anyone been looking for him? Were you just waiting to assign me to the task?”

  Larsen sighed, then, and looked uncharacteristically melancholy. He was silent for a long moment before saying, quite unexpectedly, “You know next year will be thirty years I’m with the organization?”

  “I didn’t know that, sir. Congratulations.”

  Larsen snorted. “When I first signed on, Carver was not just a great guy, but a genius. He was my friend, my teacher. I watched him deteriorate over time, just totally lose control…”

  General Larsen paused for a long moment, apparently lost in memory. He stared at nothing in particular on the wall; his eyes, normally such a bright and jovial blue, looked nearly grey and somewhat glazed.

  The moment passed, and he visibly shook himself. His gaze returned to Steven as he mentally returned to the present moment. “To answer your original question, many of us searched for him for years, when he first disappeared. That search dwindled as years dragged on, until it was just me looking in earnest. The only hard evidence I’ve ever found of his continued existence was his motorcycle, cast off and out of gas, abandoned in the Midwest.” He sighed. “I’ve taken good care of it, in case he comes back. But that was nearly fifteen years ago. Since then, we have yet to pick up more than vague, ephemeral evidence, traces of his energy signature and so on. I’ve recruited some men from NASA to help improve our technology to find him, and we’ve picked up more and more energy signatures, but nothing concrete.” He sighed again. “However, as we’ve found more and more of such traces, you’ve completed your training. Another coincidence. That’s why I’m betting on you. Maybe you’ll be the one to find him. ”