Field Station Delta: Anomalies
An excerpt from my paranormal thriller.
Field Station Delta
Day 1, 09:30 hours
Senior Airman Emily Metzger hated infirmaries. And she especially hated this one. The Ranch’s medical staff had given her a complete physical — an EKG, blood tests, a urine sample, the works. And that was just for starters. “Only a few more routine tests,” they had said. “No need to be concerned.”
Yeah, “concerned” doesn’t even begin to cover it, she thought. Nothing about any of this seemed routine at all.
The doctors treated Metzger more like some kind of lab specimen than a patient; poking and prodding her with various unfamiliar gizmos and doohickeys until she wanted to break something in frustration. Now she was almost certain they were scanning her for radiation. At any rate, the boxlike device that was pointed in her direction made a steady clicking noise just like a Geiger counter.
This piece of tech was not operated by one of the Air Force medics but by a civilian scientist. He had unkempt sandy blond hair and wide-framed glasses. He wore a long lab coat, jeans, and a pair of scuffed, low top sneakers. He was the very picture of the nerdy lab scientist-type. Metzger guessed he must be one of the “Blue Shirts.”
After consulting some readings on a small tablet device, the scientist flashed a toothy grin. “Good news, Airman Metzger; all of your ‘zap’ readings are within normal range. And no hitchhikers.”
Huh? Is this guy crazy? Metzger was now thoroughly confused and let her growing annoyance show. “Zap? Hitchhikers? What are you talking about?”
“‘Zap’—Spelled X-A-P. Stands for Exotic Anomalous Phenomena,” the scientist said, apparently unfazed by Metzger’s abruptness. “It’s our little catchall nickname for the strange energies and entities that manifest here at Medicine Wheel Ranch.”
Entities? Her mind flashed back to the Afghan mountains and to the tall, pale, almost-but-not-quite-human. . . thing that had massacred her entire squad and had nearly killed her too. She winced and wrenched her focus back to the present.
The Blue Shirt was still rambling on, apparently oblivious. “The local epicenter of XAP-iness is the Medicine Wheel. People who spend time up there tend to. . . well . . . sometimes they bring invisible things back with them. Newcomers are especially susceptible; the details are still poorly understood. We call it the ‘hitchhiker phenomenon.’”
Metzger frowned, taking it all in — exotic energy, invisible entities. Part of her was beginning to regret taking Dr. Cartwright up on her offer.
The scientist snapped his fingers and shook his head. “Oh, of course, I’m forgetting my manners! My apologies” he said, shaking her hand vigorously. “Dr. Jacob Groenke, Director of the Advanced Research Group. Come on, allow me to show you some of our other toys!”
The infirmary was set up in the same building as the ARG. The main lab occupied the largest space at the end of a long corridor of offices and storage rooms. When Groenke and Metzger entered, they found that Dr. Alicia Bradford was already there. The three of them walked over to a nearby workstation where several computer monitors were hooked up to a bulky machine. A young woman sat there staring intently at the monitors; her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
“This is Cathy Doyle, my graduate student assistant,” Groenke said.
Doyle flashed a pleasant smile, but before she could say a word, Groenke was already gesturing to the big machine. “This,” he was saying, “is the RADIS—Remote Anomaly Detection and Imaging System. You’ve probably noticed that we like our acronyms here!” He grinned again. “I’m sure you saw the big dish and the cluster of antennas on the roof outside? Those are the eyes and ears of RADIS. The receivers are in constant contact with a powerful imaging satellite in geosynchronous orbit. If there’s a significant shift in baseline XAP energy anywhere within a thirty-mile radius, we’ll know about it within minutes.”
Metzger was incredulous. “So, what you’re saying is, this setup is some kind of ghost radar?”
“In layman’s terms, that’s not far off,” Groenke said.
“I can show you a bit about how the RADIS works if you’d like,” Doyle said. “We’ve been tracking an atmospheric anomaly all morning. You can see a timelapse following its progress on the monitor here.” On the screen Metzger saw what indeed looked to her like the radar weather forecasts on TV. A purplish blob, apparently representing the XAP anomaly, was expanding slowly over a topographical map of the surrounding environs.
“Hey, is that thing going to be right over the base?” Metzger said in alarm.
“In a few minutes, yes,” Doyle confirmed. “If you went outside, you could see it. But to the untrained eye it would look somewhat like a formation of ordinary storm clouds. This anomaly first manifested over the Medicine Wheel about thirty minutes ago. I’m running a predictive model now to try and forecast its behavior over the next several hours. That can be a bit tricky, though. After all, the behavior of anomalies can be . . . anomalous.”
Metzger tensed. “Are we in any danger?”
Doyle looked uncomfortable. “Well—”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Groenke broke in. “Nine times out of ten, these things fizzle out within a few hours.”
“And when they don’t?” Metzger pressed.
“Oh, well, I suppose that’s when I’d leave things in the capable hands of you and the combat field team, Airman Metzger.”
Metzger frowned. That wasn’t really an answer. But she decided to change the subject. “You mentioned ‘entities’ earlier. Can this RADIS detect anomalous creatures? I mean things that seem almost human but aren’t?”
Doyle opened her mouth as if to speak but quickly shut it again. Groenke laughed nervously. “Reports of such creatures are certainly not uncommon at the Ranch,” he said. “We observe and measure the phenomena as best we can, but at this stage actually summoning an extra-dimensional intelligence is far beyond our limited technical capabilities.”
“I never said anything about summoning one,” Metzger said.
“What? Oh, of course not!” Groenke chuckled. “I was just speculating off the cuff.”
Metzger’s BS detector was now in high gear, but she figured she might as well leave the tough questions for when she knew these people a bit better.
A new window popped up on the imaging monitor. Doyle stared at it for some time. “Oh. . . that’s unusual,” she said.
“What?” said Metzger.
“These projections indicate that the anomaly above us will intensify and head southeast. It will be right over the town of Van Cleef within the hour.”
Metzger’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t sound good,” she said.
“Well, it’s—no, it’s not good,” Doyle agreed. “It’s unusual behavior—unusual even for what we deal with.”
Bradford spoke up. “We’ve observed that these localized weather anomalies have a kind of territorial range centered on the Medicine Wheel. They rarely stray beyond the confines of the Ranch property, and never as far as the town before.” She paused and looked meaningfully at Groenke, who shrugged. “We’ll have to find a way to inform the locals to expect some strange weather,” Bradford continued. “Dr. Groenke and I will get on that. . . I’m told you had some kind of food-based plans later on with the shooters, right?”
“Yeah, that. . .” Metzger forced a smile. “They’ve arranged a welcome party of sorts for the new kid on campus.”
“Enjoy,” Doyle said. “We don’t get good food around here very often. And Airman Valdes is a splendid cook. Take advantage.”
Metzger smiled again, more sincerely. “It was nice to meet you both.”
“Likewise. Just make sure they save some slices for the nerds.”
* * *
Day 1, 10:25
Van Cleef, Wyoming
Mary Bonds was absently wiping down the scuffed vinyl countertop with a (mostly) clean rag when she was startled out of her daydream by the jangling of the bell hanging above the front door of Heller's General Store and Bar. She looked up and saw Scott Jansen walk in. At twenty-four, Scott was two years older than Mary, and the pair had been friends their entire lives. After all, only a handful of families still eked out an existence near the forlorn crossroads known as Van Cleef, and there weren’t many kids between them. Scott's father still operated a ranch a few miles down the road from “town.”
“Did you hear that chopper go over this morning?” Scott asked as he plopped himself down on one of the bar stools across the counter.
“Sure. How could I have missed it? As I was opening up the shop this morning, the whole place shook like it was an earthquake. Made me jump.”
Scott shook his head. “That's the third one this week heading out to the old Medicine Wheel place.” He paused. “What do you think they really do out there?”
Mary frowned and glanced out the window. “Who, the Air Force? I don't know. Maybe it's a radar station.”
“Nuh uh. It's gotta be something super top secret. And what about those Air Force soldiers stationed there?”
“What about them?” Mary shot back, with a little more heat than she intended. “Some of them seem like nice people.”
In fact, Airman Valdes had stopped by the store more than once. Mary liked Valdes. He was polite and handsome. They had chatted about cooking, which they both enjoyed. He told her he was from Naples, Florida, and Mary had plied him with questions about the Gulf Coast. She often daydreamed about starting a new life somewhere exciting and lively, far away from the cold, empty Wyoming cattle country. Not like Scott. He was a rancher’s son through and through. He would probably remain in Van Cleef for the rest of his life.
“Sure, nice enough maybe,” Scott was saying. “But have you gotten a close look at their uniforms? No unit patches. Those guys are black ops. What would a special forces outfit be doing in Van Cleef, Wyoming?”
“Maybe they use the old ranch as a training ground for overseas missions?” Mary said, trying to keep her growing impatience over this conversation from showing too much. Scott was okay, but sometimes he was a little too eager to invent facts.
“That sounds like it would be a good cover story,” Scott said with a self-satisfied smile. “Remember, this is the Pentagon we’re talking about. Deep black budgets and all that. Van Cleef is one of the smallest, remotest towns in America. The perfect place to set up shop for some experimental project. I’m talkin’ real X-Files stuff. There’s a spot on my family’s land where you can just make out the base. I've been up on that ridge a few times at night. You can see lights moving around up by the Medicine Wheel bluff. And I don't mean headlights or searchlights, or anything like that. Bluish globes of light that wink on and off. Made my skin crawl.”
Mary made a face. “You're just trying to freak me out.”
“No, I'm serious. Just ask my dad; he's seen the lights too.”
At that moment, Fred Heller, the portly middle-aged proprietor of Heller’s General Store and Bar, emerged from his office. “Are you here to buy something Scott Jensen, or just avoiding honest work on a fine morning?” he said with feigned annoyance. Mr. Heller was a widower with no children of his own and he acted like a kindly uncle to the few young people who remained in Van Cleef.
“Actually, Fred, my dad sent me over to see if that part he ordered has arrived yet.” Besides the general store, bar, and gas station, Heller’s place boasted a small garage for fixing up vehicles or light tractors. Sam Brewster, the mechanic, was Fred’s only employee besides Mary.
“Not yet, but I should have it by the end of the week. Now, what’s all this about blue lights?”
“At Medicine Wheel Ranch,” Scott said. “Have you ever been up there? Before the Air Force moved in, I mean?”
A strange look crossed Fred’s face. “No, I haven't,” he said. “That was old Tom Sheridan’s land, before he sold it to some private research firm and moved out. I saw him just before he left. Said he and his family didn’t feel safe. He told me he never wanted to set foot within a hundred miles of the Medicine Wheel ever again.”
“Why?” Mary broke in.
Fred shifted uncomfortably. “When I was a boy, my father told me that the Indians say the Medicine Wheel is haunted by evil spirits.”
“You’re kidding,” Mary said. “Do you believe that?”
“I’m not a superstitious man myself. But I know what Tom Sheridan believed. He didn’t say much, but I’ve never seen a man that scared before or since. He was just plain terrified. If you ask me, it was no accident that the Feds muscled their way onto that ranch only three years after the Sheridans left.”
“You see?” Scott said, turning to Mary. “Whatever the Air Force has going on at Medicine Wheel, it’s definitely not a Boy Scout camp.”
Mary sighed and stared out the window again. Was it just her imagination or did the sky look strange somehow? There was some ominous weather gathering in the direction of the Air Force base. The clouds were strange; not like normal thunderclouds at all, but twisted into eerie shapes. And they seemed to be reaching out towards Van Cleef.
“Looks like there’s a storm coming,” she said.
“Nah, shouldn’t be,” Scott said. “My weather app says it’s all. . . clear skies. . .” He trailed off as he turned and looked out the window, too. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. . .” Mary stared at the clouds. “I think you need a better app,” she teased, but the joke fell flat.
“Maybe you ought to lock up early, Fred,” Scott said after a few seconds.
“Yeah, you might be right,” said Heller. “You two should head on home, especially you, Scott. You oughta be able to make it back to your place before the storm hits if you leave now.”
Mary’s family lived just off the main road, so she wasn’t too worried. She just kept staring at the clouds. Was that—it almost looked like there were bluish flashes of lightning bouncing around in the blackness.
“Mary!”
Mary blinked and looked over at Fred. “Hey, where’d Scott go?”
“Honey, he left two minutes ago,” Fred said, frowning a little. “Are you okay?”
“I just—I guess I kind of zoned out, that’s all.”
“Well, come on, let’s close the place up and I’ll walk you home,” Fred told her. “Storm’s gonna be here soon.”
Thanks for reading! Field Station Delta is a novella that I wrote over the summer. It’s a sequel to
’s short story “Operation White Phantom” which you can find in the collection The Third Crown and Other Weird Tales.Thank you Paul for allowing me to play in your sandbox! I had a lot of fun sending Airman Metzger on another adventure. Before writing Delta I never would have guessed that I had any kind of knack for the thriller genre.
I’d love to get reader feedback too! Pleas leave a comment down below and tell me what you thought of this excerpt.
The current manuscript sits at approximately 25,000 words. I’ve decided to go the self-publishing route with Field Station Delta. I’ve hired a professional copyeditor and also commissioned an artist to create cover art for the Kindle version of the book. I’m currently planning on a release date in March 2025.
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Is this inspired by Skinwalker Ranch?