The Carter Project

Chapter 5

Chapter 5It wasn’t teleportation or time travel.

Carter sat in his usual spot on the third floor of the library. Some of his triangle drawings were spread out in front of him, joined by a few new additions to the collection — sketches of various squiggly lines which represented the wavelengths he had seen flashing through the desert hallucination. He drew them today while recollecting last night’s experience.

Sleepwalking was the only way to describe what happened at the pizza place, according to Tina. She explained that he had stopped talking mid-sentence, then nonchalantly and stiffly got up from his seat and walked outside.

She had followed him as he marched around to a back alley, unresponsive to her calling out to him. He had climbed up a ladder attached to the outside of the building, and she hesitantly pursued. Once she had gotten to the roof, she saw him standing in the center, staring up at the night sky. He then spread his arms out and tensed up, then grabbed his head as if undergoing some silent t*****e. Then it all stopped when Carter had dropped to the ground.

Carter described to her everything he had seen. Tina aggressively pressed him for more information, as if he might be hiding something from her. Though he had no explanation, he understood her stress at witnessing his odd behavior. At least there was some relief in being able to share this with someone.

He leaned back in his chair and stared out the large windows at the swarm of daytime campus activity below. Anyone walking by him in the library might have thought he was in a trance, but he was alone up here again, which is how he liked it.

Sleepwalking didn’t feel like an adequate diagnosis, especially since it had happened so abruptly while he was awake. But it was the only way to describe the missing time he had been experiencing. It made sense when paired with the restless nights where he was almost certain he had slept, but found himself exhausted in the mornings and throughout the day. That still didn’t explain the visions.

Staring out the window, Carter’s trance had his mind spinning like a hamster wheel, trying to brainstorm other possibilities. He felt helpless. This had been thrilling at first, but it was getting more intense. Now that someone else had seen what was happening to him, he didn’t know what to do about it.

Carter lost track of time while zoning out in the library. He had skipped his classes. The trance had his mind drifting toward sleep as his head nodded and bounced repeatedly to fight it off.

With each drooping head nod, the eerie signal noise from the desert came back and startled him. It was a scratchy, static sound with an electronic blip or two mixed in. He heard it as he drifted, and his conscious decision to pay attention to it caused him to wake again, thereby losing the sound. It was an agonizing cycle.

He heard a whisper of his name. He stood up and looked around the library. He must have gotten up too fast because he felt a slight dizziness and his stance faltered. A purplish blur fogged his vision. He steadied himself with his chair until the daze subsided.

Though his vision was fuzzy, he wandered through some aisles to walk it off. The blur remained in his eyes and he continued meandering as if following it. He heard more whispers and glanced between shelves as if the sound were hiding around some corner, but nobody was there. He no longer felt alone, but his examination of the aisles confirmed otherwise. The sleeplessness was taking its toll.

The whisper sound turned into a quick buzz. He found himself near the single computer on this floor. The screen flickered, then shorted out. He looked up and realized that the ceiling lights were off. It wasn’t noticeable at first because so much daylight came through the windows, but the power seemed to be out. He wondered if the entire library had another one of those outages.

Carter heard footsteps coming up the main stairway. He thought it might be a maintenance worker, but the person who emerged looked nothing like a qualified technician. It was another student about his own age. He had earbuds and wore large, reflective goggles strapped around his forehead. He awkwardly wore a backpack in front of his torso instead of on his back.

Carter remained unseen off to the side. He instinctively ducked down by the computer to stay out of sight, though he couldn’t explain to himself why.

The student smiled at the sight of the powered-off lights in the ceiling. He pulled the goggles down over his eyes. He spoke into the small built-in microphone on the wire of his earbuds.

“Mango to Foxtrot,” he whispered dramatically, “Operation Dishwasher is a go.”

Mango pressed his back against the end of a bookshelf. He quickly peeked around it to look down the aisle before ducking back, then darted across to the next shelf and hid against that one. He imitated some kind of spy theme music with his mouth. He repeatedly crouched low and performed clumsy combat rolls between shelves, which seemed to be the silly justification for wearing a backpack over his front. He continued with his own underscore of danger music during this wacky, tactical insanity, until he finally stopped and hunkered down in one spot.

“Mango to Foxtrot. No guys or gals. All clear.”

Moments later, Carter heard more steps coming up the stairs. Foxtrot emerged and strode past the aisles on a direct path. She was petite and had a braided pony tail of sandy blond hair that hung over the front of one shoulder. She wore thin-framed glasses, earbuds, and a backpack as properly intended. She casually scanned the area while keeping her stride.

Carter carefully moved to follow them through the room but stayed hidden. He could see Mango hiding in an aisle out of her sight. Foxtrot marched toward a metal door on the outer edge of this floor. She leaned her back against it, crossed her arms, and shook her head.

Mango was still sitting low in an aisle. He was so focused on staying hidden that he hadn’t seen her.

“Mango to Foxtrot, I have no visual on you. Proceed to rendezvous.”

He half-completed another side roll out of the aisle, then darted between bookshelves on his gallivanting path toward the door. As he rolled around the shelf closest to the door, he rose up to his feet and jumped with surprise when he saw Foxtrot already standing there. He spoke directly into his earbud mic again.

“Mango to Foxtrot, I have visual on you. Commence with—”

Foxtrot tugged down on his wires which yanked his earbuds out.

“Ow! Hey!” he said, rubbing his ears. He lifted up his goggles. “It’s like you’re not having any fun.”

She smiled and turned her attention to the handle on the metal door. After a second of fiddling with it using some tool, she opened it and walked through. Mango followed right after.

Carter emerged from his hiding spot and sprinted to the door. He barely stopped it from closing. The words ROOFTOP ACCESS were written on it.

An echo of footsteps came from within. He peeked inside and saw an enclosed, concrete stairwell. The duo was out of sight one level up. The sound of another door opening came from above, which brought a wash of sunlight into the stairwell.

Carter quietly ascended the stairs to a landing and rounded the corner. At the next level up, he saw a door that was left ajar. He crept up the stairs and entered through it into blinding daylight.