Landlocked (Atlas Link Series Book 2)

by Jessica Gunn

  It wasn’t exactly far from the genetically modified super soldier truth.

  I swung hard, my fist connecting harder. The bag rocketed off its hinges and slid across the floor. I looked to Weyland in exasperation. “Can I stop now? I think I’ve proven the point.”

  “There wasn’t any point,” Weyland said.

  “My ass there wasn’t.”

  “Maybe she should spar with one of us,” Eric, Weyland’s non-military commanding officer said. Yeah, I didn’t get this whole TruGates thing, either. And damn did all these organizations need a rename-a-thon.

  I had yet to learn the ropes, or everyone’s ranks and roles, only that there were a couple of teams that operated under the TruGates mantle. Although, I supposed their once-ranks didn’t really matter. I’d been at TruGates for less than a day, and they had yet to disclose a lot of information. I knew Weyland pretty well, or at least had at one point. But today proved we didn’t know each other at all anymore. Beyond that, Mara, Truman, and Eric were a mystery.

  They, however, knew more about me than I liked. Exhibit A: SeaSat5, although I wasn’t sure what had been kept secret and what Weyland had told them. They knew about Phoenix and Lobster, and apparently Mara’s younger sister was a fan. TruGates was also privy to where I went to school and approximated where I used to live before all the hoopla of the last thirty months.

  This was too much knowing on their part, at least without it being reciprocated. Sketch Brigade, it is.

  “Would it be rude to assume you want me to spar with her?” Mara asked Eric.

  I understood where she came from. It didn’t matter that women had been allowed in the military for years now. We still had to prove ourselves. But I didn’t want to spar with Mara, not because she was female, but because I knew I’d knock her to the ground without trying. And she seemed nice. I didn’t want to hurt her. She was slim but built, all muscle. Unmovable, unless it was me moving her.

  “Why can’t I spar with the big guy?” I asked, turning to Truman, who was the youngest out of the bunch. Maybe twenty-five.

  This guy was the very definition of a body builder. I wasn’t convinced he could keep pace when running with everyone else. Every bend of his body was packed with muscle. He looked like a bodyguard on steroid-induced steroids. He couldn’t have been in black ops, but then what the hell did he do that he couldn’t be reintegrated?

  Mara didn’t seem the least bit offended. A wide grin spread across her angular face. “Go for it. This I’d love to see.”

  Truman stepped onto the mat, concern twisting his features. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” I said to him. He might. He was the biggest guy I’d ever sparred with, but probably not the strongest. Thompson and his crew, the team that hijacked SeaSat5, took that title. Of all the Lemurians I’d fought since then, they were the hardest to physically take down. But I was nothing back then, a ragdoll being thrown around. I knew my own strength now, and this was a challenge I needed.

  Truman’s frown deepened. “I’ll go easy on you.”

  “Don’t. I won’t go easy on you.” I would at first, to give him a shot to realize what he’d gotten himself into. I could probably throw him no problem; I just couldn’t decide if I’d be throwing my arm out in the process.

  Truman glanced at Eric and Weyland one last time. He knew how strong I was back then, had heard about my arm wrestling match with Dave. But that was years ago, and my strength had since developed.

  “Will you fight already?” Josh asked from the sidelines, where he and Mara stood laughing at us. She jabbed his side with her elbow and grinned up at him.

  “Ready?” Truman asked. I didn’t get time to answer before his fist came barreling at my face. I ducked out of the way and came up fast, knocking him square in the jaw. He fell to the mats with a thud.

  “Well that was stupid.” I reached down to help him up.

  He looked like he wanted to rub his jaw, but kept his hands at the ready. “Should we put on gloves if you’re gonna hit like that?”

  “It’s probably not a bad idea,” Weyland called from the sidelines, like a mother watching her son play football for the first time. I wondered who he worried for, me or his buddy?

  My eyes wandered over to a slack-jawed Josh. He recovered quickly and covered up the shock reflecting in his eyes by way of a quick thumbs up.

  Mara brought us each a set of lightweight boxing gloves, and we put them on.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” I told Truman.

  We danced around each other for a few long moments before I realized that he was correcting his earlier mistake. He wanted me to act first.

  I launched my fist toward his face, which I knew he’d deflect, so I grabbed his shoulder with my other hand and brought my knee into his stomach. Truman huffed and stumbled backward. I continued my assault, aiming a high kick, which he caught. He threw me to the ground and I landed on my back, wind knocked out of me.

  He’s strong. But not Atlantean strong.

  I kicked up at him before he could pin me to the mat. He caught my foot again, as I hoped he would, and I tugged it down hard. He would have fallen on top of me if I hadn’t rolled out of the way at the last second.

  I stood out of the spin and placed my foot on his sternum. “This would be the point at which you’d die.”

  His hands flew to my foot and he asked, “From what? I could still land you.”

  I shaped my hand into a gun. “Either from my gun or my powers. Possibly even my foot crushing your sternum into your lungs. It’s actually a pretty fragile bone. No matter what, you’d be dead.”

  Truman’s surprise turned to momentary fear that swept across his features. I lifted my foot to quell the terror.

  We linked arms awkwardly, our hands still gloved, and I pulled him up. “Good going, Danning.”

  “Chelsea. Please. I hate my last name.”

  He nodded. “Chelsea. Good job.”

  “Who are you?” Weyland asked, sounding exasperated but he grinned when our eyes met. “That was not the Chelsea who appeared helplessly on SeaSat5 two years ago.”

  “She’s gone,” I said. “Adaptation’s a bitch like that.”

  Weyland clapped me on the back, the way Logan, my best friend, did when he was simultaneously proud of me and concerned for my well-being.

  “I think we should break for now,” Eric said. “Everybody get lunch and meet at the Box. Self-defense won’t be a problem for Chelsea.”

  I gulped. What the hell was “the Box”?

  My hesitation wasn’t lost on Weyland. His hand on the small of my back urged me toward the door. “Don’t worry. You can handle it, I promise. I’ll drive you there.”

  I looked intense, that’s what I decided. We never wore the full commando gear at TAO because, well, what was the point? Major Pike was the only military officer on our team, and seventy percent of the time the Link Pieces dropped of us off outside the range of normal civilization. A bulletproof helmet wasn’t useful; neither were vests or anything else. Besides, the less we brought with us into the past, the less of a chance we had of leaving it there, thereby possibly changing the past or future and impacting things beyond what we could possibly know.

  Guess TruGates did things differently. Then again, they didn’t time-travel or know they hunted Lemurians.

  Weyland drove us to a wooded area outside base territory. There we found a squat, one-floor, rather out of place building. The others stood outside, including Josh who’d left right from the gym to set up. We got out of the car and walked a path to the building.

  “Good luck,” Weyland said, gesturing to the structure.

  “I’ve worked for the Army for two years, Weyland. I think I can handle it.” But as I looked over the dilapidated building, I gulped. What sort of training exercise was this?

  “It’s not anywhere near the same as what these guys have done,” he said, regarding my comment about working for TAO. “What happened on SeaSat5 doesn’t co
mpare at all.”

  Of course not. We only had to overtake ten Lemurians with a hyper-focused goal. TruGates chased leads, hoping to put an end to a puzzle they barely understood.

  “I meant to ask about that,” I said. “I get how you add up to their refugee soldier requirement, but what’d everyone else do to land here?”

  He hesitated. “You should let them tell you, if they want to. Some of it isn’t pretty. I got off easy.”

  And what had happened to SeaSat5 was pretty bad. My thoughts jumped to Josh. What’d he do that this was his only option outside civilian life—if he was able to return to civilian life at all? Josh could be a ghost, a shadow of whoever Josh Turner used to be.

  Why did that make me so sad?

  “So why take me on at all?” I asked. “I mean, I get the powers bit. I’ll equal their strength and negate it. Do some other damage. But I’m clearly not the number one candidate for paramilitary black ops.”

  “That’s the General. He offered some less than stellar options on what to do with you because you knew who I was. I told him about SeaSat5 and your powers, said you’d be helpful to our campaigns. He thought it was strange—they all do—but chalk it up to some feat of human evolution. You know, there’s always been stories about people with abilities. After some of the things these guys have seen, it’s not a stretch for them.” Weyland shrugged, letting out a deep breath. “Honestly, I think the paperwork for signing you on was easier than the paperwork for you finding out about us. It’s not that TruGates’s activities aren’t sanctioned, it’s that people like me are involved.”

  “People who have knowledge of secret operations,” I filled in for him.

  Weyland nodded. “Exactly. SeaSat5 is an especially hot button issue right now.”

  “A little bit, huh?” Rhetorical, obviously. I scrubbed my face with my palms, and we stayed quiet for the rest of the ride.

  “Finally here.” Eric’s voice bellowed through the morning air. “And you’re late.”

  We approached them and I slid my vest on over my shoulders. “So put me on the losing side of whatever this is.”

  Eric shook his head. “You’re already on the losing side. That’s the point.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “We call that the Box. Inside you’ll find a series of rooms and hallways formulated for a scenario. We’ll be inside as your opposition, mixed in with other wooden targets. Your goal is to make your way through and incapacitate the wooden opposition targets to get to the endgame, a room at the back with the only other exit. Once you enter the Box, the only way out is by going through that room.”

  “Am I incapacitating you all as well?” I asked. “What’s the point of this, anyway?”

  Josh stepped forward and handed me a gun and extra ammo. “They’re rubber bullets and we’ll have armor. We’ll go down on the first shot. And the point is to see how you react in combat situations.”

  Oh fantastic. And rubber bullets? They were still bullets, and I didn’t like this one bit. “Can’t you get me a paintball gun or something?” Not that I’d ever played paintball either, despite growing up in New England with Logan as my best friend. Shooting people with paint never appealed to me.

  “No,” Mara said.

  “Fine. I assume you’ll also be firing at me?” I asked and received various nods of confirmation. “Okay then. Don’t get shot. Got it.”

  “Give us two minutes to get into position,” Truman said. “Then start.”

  I nodded, and they left. I counted off two minutes in my head before approaching the same door they went through. Anticipation zeroed my thoughts into focus, and the super soldier part of me reared, wanting to be in charge. I pushed her back and slipped through the door.

  The first area held a hallway with three rooms attached. I readied my gun and surveyed the space. The walls were a bland grey and the lights had been dimmed, making it hard to see after the bright sunlight outside.

  I opened the first door and found an empty, dusty room with cracked plaster walls. The second was the same. Not a single shred of paint or furniture or any hint of life at all.

  This is stupid.

  With only four of them, I didn’t see the point of this at all. I threw open the third door and a wooden man flew up at me. I shot up my forearm and elbow to deflect the hit, but the force was too great and his head snapped off.

  Shit. Would they make me pay for that?

  A hiss sounded behind me and a wooden target dropped down in the hallway. I spun, trailing a hand in the air as I went. My connection to the water was instant. It soared up to slice the target in half.

  I holstered the gun. Useless. Most materials bent to water if given the chance.

  I cleared the third room and the rest of the hallway then turned the corner. Another dim corridor, but none of the doors opened so I continued to the end.

  Another hiss sounded as a target dropped. I neutralized it with more water without breaking a sweat. As I took a step back down the hall, another target shot up from the ground. I kicked its head off.

  Someone really should have rethought the use of wood for this drill.

  Two steps into the third area I froze. Noise flooded the space, a dizzying array of shaky lighting and smoke being filtered in from a vent in the ceiling. I reached up and closed the vent, but as I descended someone shouted at the top of their lungs, “Down, now! On your knees, now!”

  Over and over again they shouted but their voice echoed off every wall in the room. I couldn’t tell which direction they came from, or, as I spun around madly, which direction I’d come from to get into the room.

  I gathered water in my palm and shot it their way. The splash echoed as it hit, and I sent another small wave for good measure as I walked over to them, pulling water from the water-based fog. Eric lay on the ground, knocked out by my attack. I kicked his gun away from him and moved on. He’d wake up soon.

  The door I’d entered through was open. Eric must have come from one of the locked rooms. Reoriented, I approached the door at the far end of the area. Smoke curled underneath the door and I smelled fire. Smoke and burning wood.

  Luckily, water beat fire. Usually.

  I collected water and made a glove over my hand before turning the knob. The metal hissed when the cool water made contact, water vapor rising as the liquid evaporated. A wave of smoke and another wooden target rushed at me the second I opened the door. I immediately disposed of the target. A fire blazed wildly in the room, I simply doused it and kept going.

  As I moved to pass through a door into the fifth area, someone came from behind me at top speed, trying to tackle me. I sidestepped and spun at the same, aiming to obtain leverage for a throw. They were quicker and grabbed my shoulders. Their fingers inched toward my throat, gripping and tugging my skin, closing in, strangling me.

  I couldn’t take in air. I couldn’t think.

  I pried at their fingers with my own, but panic consumed all rational thought and natural instincts.

  raveling along Link Pieces took milliseconds longer with only Sophia there to guide our way. I wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed, but my over-thinking brain did. Calculating the time difference kept my mind busy from obsessing over failing to find Valerie, again. If there was one thing she was good at, it was covering her tracks. It’d only been days, but I almost resigned to not finding her—she’d hidden herself too well. But that was my new project, the next thing to focus on with Chelsea gone. The only thing I had to contribute to the cause of finding SeaSat5.

  “Stop daydreaming,” Pike said as he pushed by me, securing our immediate perimeter in our new time-place.

  All around me jungle vines clutched to the ruins of an old stone building. Trees with leaves bigger than my head—with flowers to match—towered to the sky, further concealing the brick. A thick mix of rain, humid air, and plant life rushed my nostrils. My allergic reaction was immediate. My eyes watered and I sneezed a few times. Holy. Pollen.

  “Oh, my word,” Dr. Hill exclaimed.

/>   I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my fatigue jacket. My eyes followed the building behind us from its base to the spire standing atop its roof. Vines crept their way up the stone, slithering through window openings like welcomed guests. As if they were a part of the original design.

  Chelsea would have loved this.

  “What do you think?” Pike asked Dr. Hill, thumbing toward the structure in front of us.

  The building was clearly ancient, even for the time period we were supposed to be in. Which was something with a B.C. Even then, was it possible something this advanced stood unoccupied for so long?

  A few moments passed before Dr. Hill admitted, “I honestly have no idea. Anything I can think of makes little sense for the time period we’re supposed to be in.”

  “Can we go inside?” I asked. We wouldn’t find a Return Piece in this thick jungle. There had to be something inside, or Sophia wouldn’t have seen the presence of another Link Piece.

  “Probably,” Dr. Hill said. “But we should be careful. We have no way of knowing how old these ruins are.”

  “Can you guess?” Sophia asked.

  Dr. Hill paused, studying the vegetation growth. “Not with any accuracy. By the history we know, there shouldn’t be anything here. The intricate spire denotes great importance, but the lack of care suggests it’s been abandoned for years. I’d say it’s at least a hundred years old or older.”

  “We’ll go careful, then,” Pike said. “We don’t have much of a choice. I’m not wandering around miles of South American Rainforest to find a way home.”

  I didn’t blame him. Rainforests were as beautiful as they were deadly.