Superborn by Keith Kornell - Exclusive Excerpt

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Superborn by Keith Kornell - Exclusive Excerpt

When Dr. Jones heard my story, he danced around like a featherless chicken on a hot grill; not that I have ever seen such a thing, or that anyone else in the world has for that matter. Chickens don’t routinely dance, to my knowledge. That’s just how his image struck me at the time. He made random quick arm and leg movements as he paraded around his apartment, “My boy, I am telling you now, that we are so close! It’s not a theory anymore! She is here, and we will be finding her soon; very soon I am telling you! What did I say! This will be the story of your lifetime!” Then he bent over for a second, “Mom and Dad, you will be kissing my professional ass!”

I had told him everything about Ed’s story of the Beer Truck, just leaving out the minor detail of his death. I had told him about Flight 118; how I had researched and interviewed my ass off to get the story until I was certain the Miracle of Flight 118 was just a pretty myth that even the FAA was starting to doubt publicly. I embellished on how much it had cost me to do. I just could not bring myself to tell him about the blue/green eye flashes and that we had been within inches of our prey days before; just unable to speak or function normally at the time. This information had started the chicken dance.

Then when I told him that I had tracked down the first of the women born during the Super Bowl and I would be meeting with her that evening. The dance started again. It made him so happy that he literally showered me with money. Not stopping his dance, he grabbed a wrapped stack of bills each time he passed his desk and threw them up in an arc to me; mumbling and muttering joyfully to himself as he went. If he spoke English or an Indian Dialect I could not tell, only to say that I just kept waiting for him to pass that desk again. 1,000$......500$.......1,000$.

Finally, he began to pant a little and slowed down, “You have done well, my friend. This is true progress. Are you prepared for you meeting with this woman? Was she born near half time?”

After I stuffed the stacks of bills in my coat pocket, I took out my notebook and fingered down the list, “Her name is Jennifer Lowe. She owns a Flower Shop. And she was born the 1st closest to Half Time of them all.”
“She has lived here her whole life?” he asked patting the sweat on his forehead with a black bra he lifted off of his desk.

“Yes, her whole life. That’s what made her so easy to find, never been married.”

“Can you blame her, in this town?.....Nothing more notable in her background than a florist?”

“No,…..but our B.I.B……that’s what I call her…..”

“B.I.B.? I think I like it. Kind of catchy and with no connotations like “Super Female” has. Kind a personal too, don’t you think? What does it stand for?”

I told him the story of how Ed had come up with the name, Beotoch in Black.
Jones shook his head, “Best we stay with just B.I.B., okay?”

“Sure….what I was saying was our B.I.B. is undercover. She’s not like Olga Settchuoff; movie star, cosmonaut, and the whole nine yards. She doesn’t want to be known, so she will have a cover. She could be a Florist, an Accountant, anyone.”

“Maybe, we should have this Jennifer Lowe, followed, a private investigator, perhaps?”

Inside I thought, “Fat friggin chance! This girl’s eyes glow and you’ll never see me again! Outside I said, “If she looks like a good candidate after our meeting, that would be a good idea.”

“You have all the papers from the University about the research project and survey?”

“Yes,” I said as he referred to the “real” Penn State Psychology Department Survey that would be my cover to meet Jennifer.

“Good,” he said then Jones patted me on the shoulder and pushed me toward the door, “I am certain you are right about the private eye. Good luck and Good Hunting, my friend. Now, if you will excuse me, it is ladies night at The Banshee.”

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Keith Kornell
http://www.superborn.net/

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