Trinity

As soon as I got home, I planned to toss Tudwell to the piranhas in the Darkweb. But I needed the anonymity of the TOR browser to do it. Nobody in their right mind would venture into that terrifying place uncovered.

At three o'clock sharp, the elevator door opened and out strolled a well-fucked Richard "Tud" Tudwell. He didn't notice me. Why should he? I wasn't supposed to be there. He looked as smug and self-satisfied as every cat who'd ever eaten a canary. I hated him.

Fortunately for my sanity his phone rang just as he started across the lobby. He answered cheerfully. There was a long pause while somebody talked. Then Turd got a look of sheer incredulity, followed shortly thereafter by one of utter horror.

He argued for a few seconds. Then the person on the other end abruptly hung up. Turd ran panicked out to his car and raced back up White Sands Boulevard. Apparently, his wife, or his boss had just viewed his little indiscretion.

I was savoring the beginning-of-the-end of Turd's over-entitled life when the elevator dinged again and out stepped my wife. She looked both gorgeous and pensive. It was clear that she had a ton on her mind. She started toward the back of the motel where her helicopter was parked, with her eyes downcast. It was the adulterer's walk of shame.

Then she sensed a presence in front of her. She stopped and looked up, irritation in her eyes. That look turned to one of incomprehension, and then it dawned on her. They call it vasovagal syncope. It's caused by shock. The more common term is "fainting."

First, her eyes registered pure astonishment. Then they rolled up in her head. I caught her and dragged her exquisite little body to the nearest lobby couch. The last thing I wanted was a scene. Mercifully, the guy at the desk had disappeared. I plopped her there, still supporting her with my arm. She came around almost instantly, looked confused and then she noticed who she was leaning on.

Her gasp was loud enough that anybody in the lobby would have heard. Fortunately, there was nobody there except us. I said as kindly as I could, "I don't want you to explain anything. All I want is make the necessary final arrangements."

Brenda's face crumbled. She said in a grief-filled voice, "Oh my God Davy!! This wasn't supposed to happen."

I thought to myself, " What did you THINK would happen Sherlock?" But I said, "You know what business I'm in."

She grabbed my shoulders panicked and said, "You have to let me explain. It isn't what it looks like." I thought to myself, "They never seem to have any fresh, or original lines."

I said, "It's exactly what it looks like my dear. Would you like a replay?" I tapped the icon on my iPad and we both heard, "Oh Yeah!! That's it!! Harder!! Fuck me Harder!!"

Her face melted into tears. She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed uncontrollably, muttering over-and-over, "You were never supposed to know. "

We still had the lobby to ourselves and I wanted to avoid hysterics. So, I pointed toward the ladies room and said, "Why don't you go in there and pull yourself together and we can talk tonight at home. I have a long drive in front of me."

She nodded, with misery written in every aspect of her beautiful face. She said pitifully, "I love you Davy, only you."

I rose and looked at her huddled on the couch and said with utter honesty and sincerity, "I love you too Brenda. That's why this is so difficult. Now, it's getting late. We'll talk at home."

I spun on my heel and strolled as calmly as I could toward the parking lot. The sounds of a weeping woman rang in my ears. I was beginning to feel wobbly myself. So, I stopped at the first place I saw heading north. I needed a drink.

A waitress, who looked like an exhibit out of the museum of tats and piercings, brought me a beer. The beer was a necessity. I was beginning to experience the after-effects of shock - nausea, and chills. I realized that I needed to get back in the truck quickly, or I wouldn't make it home.

As I drove, I had the satisfaction of contemplating the shitstorm I'd unleashed on Tudwell. The look of absolute terror on his face was priceless and the best part was that he hadn't really seen anything yet. The real hurt would come when the Darkweb finished with him.

Like I said, there are a lot better ways to exact revenge than ending up in jail - for instance ruining the fucker for life. Yet, there was also a pitiful little bird whose soul I had just crushed. I could see it in her eyes. She knew the price.

It wasn't a matter of failed trust, or my ego. That's a simplistic view of cheating. The exclusive link had been broken, and every aspect of our special bond was gone. We could never say, "It's just you and me forever." The ghost of Richard "Turd" Tudwell would always be in between us saying, "But I was there too."

We all have our weaknesses, every one of us. Some lucky people can go their entire lives without being exploited. Still, more-often-than-not your personal flaws will be your undoing. Worse, there's always collateral damage. Like when the one who you supposedly hold most dear is dragged into the abyss with you. That was the reality that the two of us were facing now.

As for me, I had the empty feeling that you get when you know that you're up shit's creek without a paddle. I had to take affirmative steps to deal with Brenda's infidelity. But what should I do? Divorce her? Bury her in the backyard? Live like a cuck? I'm not into cuckoldry, or murder. So, door number one seemed like the only viable option.

We would talk. But Brenda was a stranger to me now. I had no idea what would motivate her to do something so hurtful. It was totally out of character for the woman I thought I knew.

I'd assumed that we shared a solid vision of our future. Obviously, that wasn't true. There would be no more happy intimate moments, no enjoying the small things in life, no growing old together. It would be an agonizing parting for both of us. We were just two strangers, alone in a strange land.

*****

It was full dark by the time I had navigated through the Mockingbird Mountains and onto the desolate region leading to State Road 525. SiriusXM was playing Blake Shelton's "When Somebody Knows You That Well." The words were sadly ironic.

I was passing through the grim landscape of the Sonoran desert. It was hard to believe that this barren wasteland was ground zero for mankind's future.

Our modern age began at 5:29 a.m. on July 16, 1945. That was the instant that the proof of concept of a nuclear device blossomed on the desert sand in front of me. Its codename was "Trinity." Robert Oppenheimer coined it, purportedly as a reference to John Donne's poetry. But the American physicist Ken Bainbridge put it best," Now we are all sons of bitches."

Splitting the atom was a gamechanger in every aspect of human existence. The scientists who did it had no idea whatsoever whether their little gadget would even work, or what would happen when they pressed the button. So, they wanted to conduct the test as far from civilization as possible.

The USAAF Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range was a prime location for doing that. It was in the middle of a hundred miles of forbidding wasteland full of nothing but lizards and snakes. There was only one structure within a twenty mile radius and that was the building where they assembled the bomb.

When they finished, they hoisted their creation up a 100-foot steel tower which stood on four legs sunk 20 feet into the desert. Then the world bore witness to the dawn of the atomic age. The blast fused the sand into a new radioactive material called Trinitite and Oppenheimer, who was a bit of a bard, was quoted as saying, " Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

I was approaching the access road to the actual Trinity site. The landscape was garnished by the odd silvery light that a night sky with trillions of stars and a full moon imparts. The pathway was off to my right, easily visible. My headlights swept across the historical marker and there was a small figure standing at the intersection looking directly at me.

It was the strangest, most startling vision you can imagine. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. The ostensibly alien creature walked into the cone of my headlights. She was a young woman of ethereal beauty, small, but uncommonly curvaceous.

I could tell that she was extraordinarily shapely because she was wearing a skin-tight black body suit that hugged her from neck to boots. Her skin was perfect alabaster, and her lovely round face was elfin, with huge, wide set green eyes and short jet black hair. Think, Tinker-Bell in a cat suit.

The suit had some kind of odd insignia located above her surprisingly ample left breast and she wore a device on her right arm that looked like the monitors that the pilots of the U-2s wear. I knew there were a few off-the-books airfields in this neck of the woods, including Stallion AFB, which I was about to pass. So, excuuuuse me if I just assumed that she had bailed out of a spy plane.

I scrambled out of the truck. She was standing there on a pair of long and shapely legs, one hip shot to the side, looking at me bemused. That was a weird reaction for somebody who had just ridden a parachute from 65,000 feet. I said concerned, "Are you alright Ma'am? Can I take you someplace where you can contact your people?"

She said, in an oddly melodious voice, "No thank you. I was just getting my bearings. It's confusing here."

That was a bizarre response. It was like she was refusing a ride home from work.

I said, "There's nothing for miles around, Ma'am. At least let me take you some place where you can make a call. How did you get here?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "Through the portal, of course. Why?"

Okay, this just went from bizarre to nuts. I tried to keep my voice even, so that I wouldn't upset the crazy lady, "And where is this portal Ma'am?"

She waved her hand vaguely toward the northeast and said, "Over there, it's a long walk you know." She had gestured in the direction of the black obelisk that marks ground zero, four miles in the distance.

I said, still trying to sound conversational. "Just to be clear, you came here via a portal that transported you from someplace else - yes? And where exactly is this other place?"

She made a noise that sounded like a combination of a cough and a sigh and looked at me expectantly. Then she added, "I had to get away. It wasn't safe."

Okay, to sum it up - this gorgeous little creature was fleeing an unspecified problem that had happened somewhere mysterious and had ended up in the middle of the night in the Sonoran desert. There was a shadowy portal involved, which she treated like a subway stop. Perhaps you can understand my bewilderment.

Mix in my recent experience with marital infidelity and you can probably also imagine the level of stroke inducing stress that I was under. Still, I couldn't just leave her there.

I said, trying to sound reasonable, "This isn't safe either Ma'am. Why don't you get in the truck and I'll take you to a place where you can get some help." Whether that would be psychological, or simple travel assistance was debatable

She appeared hesitant. I said, "Look, I'm not going to take you anywhere that you don't want to go." I could see that was exactly what she was thinking. There were ominous vibes from this woman's spaced-out cosplay/intergalactic refugee meme.

I added, continuing to sound reasonable, " This area has been called the Journey of Death since the 18th Century. There's nothing but snakes and predators around us and you aren't going to survive very long by yourself." At that point a nearby coyote let out a dramatic wail.

My little nut-case flinched and said plaintively, "You won't hurt me?"

I said, "Why would you think that?"

Of course, there was nothing but a few microns of a mylar substance separating her from total nudity. And she DID have the most exquisite body imaginable, inside-or-outside of Playboy. So, I guess I could understand her concern.

I added, " Look, I have my own problems. If you'll get in the truck, I'll tell you an entertaining little story."

My new friend might have just come from the planet "cough-sigh." But she was clearly interested in what I'd just said, and the coyote had added a convincing dollop of menace. So, she hesitantly walked to the passenger side of the 150, got in and scootched over close to the door.

We drove for a while in silence. Then she said, "So, what's the story?" I laughed and said, "The events of my miserable life would be of no interest to you. I just told you that to get you to do the smart thing. People die out here, you know."

She looked troubled. She had a face that was so perfectly proportioned and features so fine that with her warm alabaster skin she looked like a porcelain angel. I said sympathetically, "Where are your people? Where are you going? Who can I call?" She still looked distressed.

Finally, she said miserably, "I don't know anybody on this planet. This is just where the portal was set when I jumped through the event horizon."

Okay, time to humor the crazy lady. I said kindly, "So, what made you jump? Why did you do it?"

She must have thought back about the reason for the first time since it happened. She got a horrified look and said, "It was awful, the snarl-growl-hiccup were killing everybody. It was my only way out."

I said, trying to keep my voice reasonable, "So you were escaping something that I can't pronounce. Who are they?"

She said, "They're inter-galactic predators and my planet's their new feeding ground. I was lucky that I was on my shift in the transportation center when they came." Her tone of voice made it sound like everybody knew about the snarl-growl-hiccup.

Then she stopped and seemed to think of something. She added reassuringly, "Don't worry. I shut off the portal when I jumped. They can't come here now." Well, at least this conversation was more entertaining than country music.

I said, "Okay, let's assume you are who you say you are. Then why do you look like a human and why are we able to communicate in English, except for a few words?"

She said cheerfully, "English?? Is that what your language is called?" Then she added, "I'm speaking directly in your mind. But some of the things we are discussing don't have concepts that translate."

So, my little nut-case was claiming that she was telepathic.

She continued with, "All life-forms of our type evolved from the same basic design. It's the most efficient natural structure. So, of course we're similar." I laughed and said, "You have an answer for everything don't you?"

She smiled prettily and said, "So why are you so sad?"

That rocked me. I said, "How do you know I'm sad?" It must have been my body language.

She added, voice full of innocent curiosity, "Is it because your mate was just bred by another male?"

I slammed on the brakes, stopping the truck right in the middle of the road, and stared at her aghast. I said anxiously, "How do you know that??!! Who are you??!!"

She said, "My name is Stella, and as I told you, I am from cough-sigh in the Perseus Arm of our galaxy. Your sun is located in the Outer Arm. So, we are practically neighbors." She gave me a flirty smile and then sat there looking at me like she'd just made a little joke.

Don't bother telling me. Of course, I knew she was delusional. But to humor her I said, "If you're from an advanced race of aliens, then why were you out here in the middle of a howling wilderness. You would think that your folks would establish an arrival point at something more convenient and civilized."

She said, like she was lecturing a child, "The builders establish the portal at the point where they detect irrefutable evidence that a culture has advanced to the point where they deserve to be studied."

I said, "So, the detonation of the first atomic bomb was like a signal flare for your people." Gaaahh!! Now I was starting to talk like her.

She nodded and said, "Yes, there are billions of civilizations in our galaxy, but the only ones of interest are the advanced ones." She said it like everybody ought to know that.

The crazy lady continued with, "The builders actually prefer a remote access point. It lets them come-and-go in secret. We have been scouting your planet for over seventy years. We even lost one of our first expeditions near here." She had to be referring to Roswell.

The woman was undeniably suffering some form of psychosis. Seriously!! She really believed she was an alien. So, I couldn't just drop her off at the Albuquerque bus station. I mean, it wouldn't be right to abandon a woman who was this crazy.

The problem was that I was rushing home to negotiate the end of my marriage. And I knew that the conversation would get a bit heated if I showed up with this delectable little morsel in tow. It'd be like pouring a gallon of gas on a raging fire. So, no pressure at all.

Stella said sympathetically, "You can just leave me if I'm an obstacle to confronting your mate." I didn't slam on the brakes. I was used to her reading my facial expressions, like she was actually reading my mind. Still, I realized that I was committed.

My new friend was clearly a decent person. I said, "I don't know your story. But I can't just jettison you. I have to get you some help." A generational beauty like hers wouldn't last two minutes on the mean streets of Albuquerque.

I said, "I don't know how you knew it. But you're right. I've just witnessed my wife with another man and in my culture that's the starkest form of betrayal. Now, I'm returning home to work out the terms of our separation." Culture? I had to watch myself or she would pull me into her delusion. Stella the star girl was very convincing.

She nodded and said, "Yes, that's the case in most of the family based cultures. It ensures the provenance of the offspring. It doesn't matter in my world since all children are raised by the central two-snorts-and-a-sigh." I assumed it was her untranslatable word for government.

She added earnestly, "Of course couples can elect to bind themselves exclusively. It's very romantic. But the grunt-hiccup that they implant during the commitment ceremony kills them if they have extra-marital relations after the binding." The grunt-hiccup was clearly a bit of technology. Maybe we should have one of those? It would certainly force couples to take fidelity more seriously.

I smiled at that thought and said, "We haven't quite gotten to that point. But our technology is good enough that you can always tell if a person strays. That's how I caught my wife. And the guy who seduced her is definitely going to wish he were dead once I finish deconstructing his life."

Stella said, musing, "I have never had the desire to pledge myself. Sex is too much fun to limit it to just one male. On the other hand, I sometimes wonder how it would feel to be THAT committed to a man."

I said, "It's wonderful and scary. The intimacy that two people share far outweighs the lack of variety in partners. Brenda and I made up for whatever limitation we experienced with exceptional frequency and quality. The exclusiveness of our connection made the sex far more meaningful."

Shit!! I'd forgotten. Our exclusiveness was past tense now. I was trying to stay calm. After all, I WAS talking to a crazy person. But I couldn't shut off the angry ranting in my head. It was the archetypal duality that infidelity creates. I loved Brenda and hated her and the more I thought about it, maybe killing Tudwell wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Stella said reassuringly, " Killing the other male is no solution. You've already done far worse to him by exposing him as a predator. You need to talk to your mate, find out why she did it. Not knowing will prevent you from moving on."