Chapter 3

Logan and Darrell were left processing the man's words as several individuals pulled out the tiniest mobile phones they had ever seen. It was like alien tech. They were instructed to notify the rest of the town, and shortly later, hundreds of men in yellow hazmat suits entered the town.

After a few days of radioactivity testing, several black SUVs rolled into the town. Men in black suits and sunglasses poured out of the doors. Claremont hadn’t seen such activity in its entire lifetime. It should’ve done wonders for the local businesses, but the external workers rarely spoke to the townsfolk, let alone buy anything from them.

Even Madam Esmeralda called them pretentious wankers from the city. It was hard to disagree. Though at least it meant Logan didn’t have to interact with them. The less social interaction, the better.

“Logan, have you been visited by the agents yet?” Darrell asked, leaning over the bar counter.

“Not yet.”

“Lucky, they are creepy as hell.”

“How so?”

The door to the bar let out a large creak as it opened, and a man in a black-clad suit entered. His gaze was initially fixated on Darrell before he turned his head with a mechanical-like precision to face Logan.

“Mr Russell-” he said without even the hint of expression.

“Logan’s fine.”

Without a hint of acknowledgement, the agent repeated his pre-rehearsed script.

“Mr Russell, I have come to speak to you.”

Logan sighed. He was already exhausted by this interaction.

“Alright. Pull up a stool.” Logan nodded towards the empty stool. The man stood rigidly, showing no change in his expression.

“Mr Russell. I apologise if my statement created a misunderstanding. I would like for you to follow me for a brief chat.”

“I’d rather not, sounds like a pain in the arse.”

“Mr Russell, perhaps my comments are not clear,” although his mannerism showed no sign of change, Logan detected something dangerous in the way he spoke. “I expect you to follow me so we can have a one-on-one discussion.

Logan sighed once more. There was no point resisting. Anything he tried would be meaningless. He’d still have to go with the agent. Weighing his options, going without complaint would save the most drama.

“Fine,” Logan resigned before turning to the other man in the bar. “Darrell, you heard the guy. I gotta close shop, so get the fuck out.”

“Oi, I haven’t even finished. There’s still half a glass!”

Logan snatched the glass from him and poured it down the well before slamming it back on the counter.

“There it’s empty. Now get out.”

“Fine! But you owe me,” he replied, shaking his fist as he exited.

“Whatever,” Logan replied. He was going to pay him back anyway.

“Now then, if you would follow me, Mr Russell,” the man in all black once again instructed.

“Logan is fine.”

Logan extended his hand, but the man did not take it.

“Please follow me.”

The man turned sharply and briskly paced down the road to an unmarked SUV.

“Mum always said not to get in a car with a stranger,” Logan joked.

The agent didn’t laugh; his expression remained completely devoid of any emotion. Logan was beginning to think it would be fun to see how far he could push. Whether he could crack this agent with the slightest smile. But at the same time, he realised this would be a lot of effort. So he shut up and slid into the backseat of the car.

He expected the agent to hop into the driver's seat, but instead, the man walked behind the car and took up the vacant seat beside Logan. The man knocked on the blackout divider between the backseat and the front, and the car roared into action.

Logan hadn’t even noticed that there was another person in the car. How long were they there?

The car drove until it reached the wall at the edge of the town. The agent got out of the car and motioned for Logan to follow. He obeyed and looked up at the concrete monolith that stood before him.

The agent walked towards an interlocked iron door and swiped his card. The door rumbled like thunder as it opened. Logan didn’t need instructions to know he was expected to follow him inside.

Without a word, he walked down a dimly lit corridor. The light flickered; the buzz it created was the only sound other than the echoes of Logan's footsteps.

His and his alone.

The hall felt like it went on forever. Until he came to a single metal door with a mesh-like opening through which one could, in theory, look.

The agent turned the doorknob and pushed the door inward. Faint light filtered out. He motioned for Logan to enter without ever uttering a single word. Logan entered and instantly saw a light swaying suspended above a lone table.

Two men in identical black suits and sunglasses stood motionless in the corner of the room.

The agent who escorted Logan finally spoke up. “Thank you for joining us, Mr Russell. My name is Agent Johnson. Please take a seat.”

The agent ushered towards a vacant chair. Logan glanced over at the men in the corner. Watching for them for the slightest hint of a reaction. Alas, he saw none.

Without any other instructions, he took a seat.

Agent Johnson pulled out a laptop far slimmer than any Logan was familiar with. As with all things, a lot had happened in the last ten years.

“Mr Russell, the interview will be conducted by our superior.” He motioned to the two agents positioned in the corner of the room. “We will simply observe this interview and confirm the transcript.”

“Who is your superior then?”

The laptop’s screen flickered, going completely black except for a single name in bolded white. Mr Big.

“Good afternoon, Mr Russell,” a voice called through the speakers.

“Wow! You can see me?”

Logan waved his hands in front of the screen. He couldn’t believe how far technology had come in just ten years.

“That’s correct, Mr Russell.”

“As I told your agent goons, Logan is fine.”

“Very well, Logan. I am Mr Big. I am in charge of this operation,” The way Mr Big spoke felt as if it were coated with malice. “Now then. What do you remember?”

“Two plus two is four,” Logan joked.

“Mr Logan!” He shouted, and even the two agents in the back of the room slightly jumped. With a slightly more tender voice, he continued, “I specifically wish to ask you about the events of that day. What do you remember about that day?”

“I had toast for brekkie.”

The man remained silent for a moment. Logan couldn’t tell if he was sighing or making notes. Eventually, he spoke up.

“Alright, I will be a bit more specific. Do you recall a strange light display?”

Even though Mr Big was only a name on a screen, Logan felt something wasn’t right.

Was it the tone of his voice?

No! His tone never changed.

Perhaps that was the reason why he felt so unsettled.

Regardless, he knew it would be wrong to keep joking. It was as if he had been bitten by a Death Adder, only now realising the toxins taking hold. Logan glanced at Agent Johnson, who was expressionless, before focusing back on the computer screen.

“Yes.”

“I see. What colour was it?” Mr Big continued to question without any sort of acknowledgement.

“It was green and purple.”

“I see. Do you recall anything else about that moment?” The questions kept coming.

“A ringing in my ears and a splitting headache. Like worse than any hangover.”

“I see. Do you recall any other strange phenomenon from that evening?”

Logan tried to think back to the night, and the moment he did, his head was met with a splitting pain. He grabbed his forehead.

“Nope, that’s all I remember.”

“I see,” Mr Big responded as Logan took a sip of water to try to ease the pain. “Mr Logan, do you recall seeing any large, cubed objects?”

“Cubes?”

What the hell was he talking about? Was this a test or something?

Logan never got a chance to find out.

“I see. Thank you for your time, Mr Logan.”

“Wait? That’s it? What happened to us?!” Logan snapped, jumping to his feet. His metal chair fell to the concrete ground with a loud clang.

A noise that elicited no response from any of the agents in the room. Nor did Mr Big appear to care about answering his question.

“Mr Logan, I look forward to meeting you soon.”

The name Mr Big Vanished from the screen and, in unison, Agent Johnson closed the laptop.

“Well now, Mr Russell, you are free to go now.”

“If that was it, you could’ve spoken to me in my Pub.”

Agent Johnson appeared not to listen to Logan in the slightest.

“If we need anything else, we will come and collect you again, Mr Russell.”

“Agent Johnson, I keep telling you to call me Logan.”

Agent Johnson turned his head. His sunglasses prevented Logan from confirming where his eyes were looking. A cold shiver ran down his spine as a cruel smile played on his lips. It was the only time any sort of emotion showed on the man’s face. And Logan began to regret his provocation. For he was reminded how little power he truly had in this situation.

“I’ll keep that in mind Mr Russell.”

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End of Chapter 3