ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1)

by Jason R. James

  Ellison struggled to keep his voice even. “So we follow protocol and bring him in. What do we do if he becomes a problem?”

  Hayden turned back to face him, “Don’t worry about it, Major. If he becomes a problem, I can handle him for you.”

  Ellison turned away, dismissing Hayden’s bravado, but once again McCann was decided, “All right, Agent Hayden, we’ll follow your protocol, but I want you to understand one thing: We are not bringing in anybody until they’re verified. I’m not about to jeopardize this whole operation for someone who can’t even help us. I want this boy tested.”

  Hayden’s upper lip curled over his stray tooth. “We can do that.”

  “Sir,” Ellison spoke up again.

  McCann turned. “What is it, Major?”

  “If we bring the subject in, I think we need to recall Mirror to Fort Blaney. She should be here, on site.”

  Hayden twisted in his chair. “Well, that’s going to be more difficult, isn’t it? She has a rotation. You know that.”

  McCann folded his hands on the desk. “Major Ellison’s right. I want her here too. There’s too much that can go wrong with this. I want her here, on base, or we scrap the whole thing. Protocols be damned.”

  Hayden forced a smile. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to transfer Mirror back to Fort Blaney.”

  McCann pressed a button on the desktop, and the magnetic locks on the door slid open. “Thank you, Mr. Hayden.”

  Hayden rose to his feet. “Colonel. Major Ellison. It’s been a pleasure, as always.”

  Ellison clenched his teeth and waited in silence as Hayden walked through the door.

  Once he was outside, Ellison brought his heels together and threw up a sharp salute. “Sir.”

  “Just a minute, Major.” McCann’s voice was tired.

  Ellison returned to the position of parade rest. “Sir?”

  “I’m only going to say this once, Stuart, because I don’t think I’ll get a chance to say it a second time. Do not lose your temper with Hayden again. Not once. Not ever. Am I understood?”

  For a second Ellison said nothing, but when he answered, his voice was sharp and crisp. “Yes, sir.”

  McCann waited without speaking, eyeing Ellison and letting his words fully register; finally he finished, “You’re dismissed, Major.”

  Ellison raised his hand in salute, and the gesture was returned with a half-hearted swipe of the brow by McCann. Then Ellison turned on his heels and walked out of the conference room.

  *****

  It was the middle of the night, and the bunkroom was dark as Ellison stepped inside. More than a dozen beds lined the walls, and in each one Ellison could see a sleeping soldier. He stood for a moment, straining his eyes to see if he had woken anyone up, but no one moved and no one made a noise other than the light snoring from the bunk closest to the door. Satisfied, Ellison stalked down the row of beds until at last he found the one he was looking for.

  He clicked on his flashlight, and shining the beam full in the face of a sleeping soldier, he shouted, “Lieutenant Brown!”

  Brown shot up straight in the bed, blinking against the light, disoriented. “What? What are we…? Sir?”

  Ellison could hear the other men in the room moving in their bunks; he ignored them and kept his flashlight pointed in Brown’s face. “Get up, Lieutenant! Put on your boots and follow me.”

  Brown swung himself out of bed. Like most of the soldiers, he was wearing a white t-shirt and PT shorts. He stepped over to his locker and reached for a pair of gray camouflaged pants.

  Ellison barked again, “What are you doing, Lieutenant? I said put on your boots and follow me! Now!”

  “Yes, sir.” Brown let go of the pants and instead reached down for his black, standard-issue boots. He slipped them on his feet and followed Ellison out of the room.

  Outside the bunkroom, Brown blinked again, this time against the white glare of the fluorescent lighting. He looked down the hallway to his left, half-expecting to see other soldiers stumbling out of their rooms in boots and underwear, but no one was there. Then Brown turned to his right and hurried to fall into step with Ellison.

  He looked sideways at the major. “Sir?”

  Ellison didn’t answer.

  Brown tried again, “Sir, is there some emergency in the command center?”

  Ellison still didn’t answer. Instead, he reached the end of the hall and pushed the button for one of the elevators. They waited in silence until they heard the ding of the arriving car and the elevator doors slid open. Both men stepped inside.

  “Sir?”

  “No, Lieutenant, there’s no emergency,” Ellison answered in little more than a whisper.

  The elevator doors closed, and the car started to climb. Brown looked down at his feet, letting the elevator race up several floors in silence before he turned back to Ellison. “Sir, what time is it?”

  “It’s 0145, Lieutenant.”

  The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and Ellison and Brown stepped out into a long, open hangar. Two rows of olive drab Humvees lined both sides of the darkened building. The wide doors on the far wall stood open against the cold of the night.

  Ellison and Brown walked through the hangar, their footsteps echoing off the concrete floor, and as they walked, from the corner of his eye, Ellison could see the lieutenant start to shiver. They crossed the threshold of the building and stepped into the outside world. Above them the sky was dark and clouded. Ellison let out a long, slow breath, watching it cloud over in the cold night air. Then the wind swirled, throwing a handful of snow flurries against their faces.

  “Sir,” the loud, deep voice came from Sergeant Mandel standing to the right side of the hangar door.

  Ellison turned around to face him. On either side of the hangar door, soldiers stood at rigid attention; Mandel was on Ellison’s left, and a private, last name Williams, stood guard to his right. Both Mandel and Private Williams wore their military-issue cold-weather caps, trousers, and coats in gray camouflage. They both wore a pair of black gloves and dark brown neck gaiters around their throats. It was the prescribed uniform for service in cold weather.

  Mandel and Williams stood at perfect attention, their M-4’s slung around their right shoulders and their right hands locked in salute. Ellison returned the salute, and then he stepped toward Mandel. Lieutenant Brown followed him.

  Sergeant Marcus Mandel was tall, dark-skinned, and broad-shouldered. More than that, Ellison judged him to be an exemplary soldier, respected by his men and favored by his superiors, and that’s why Ellison changed the duty roster to make sure Mandel was here. He could trust Mandel to follow orders.

  Ellison started talking, his voice loud as if he were reading off a script. “It seems that Sergeant Mandel has been having trouble with standing at attention during his watch. Lieutenant Brown, you did such a good job of marching around the command center today that I told Sergeant Mandel you would demonstrate how a soldier is to stand watch.”

  “Sir,” Brown’s voice wavered.

  “You are to stand guard, Lieutenant, at attention, until the end of the watch.”

  “Sir, you can’t! This—,” for a second, Brown’s voice was panicked, but then he fought to steady himself, and he started again, “Sir, I am protesting this order to Colonel McCann. You can’t—”

  Ellison cut him off, “Unfortunately, Lieutenant, you are not relieved from your watch at this time. As matters of base security are given priority, you are not authorized to go anywhere to protest anything. Now, at 0700, when your watch is over and you are relieved, you can protest to whomever you like. Sergeant Mandel.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mandel barked his response.

  “If Lieutenant Brown tries to abandon his post, have him arrested.”

  Ellison turned back to the hangar, ready to leave, but before he could take a step, Hayden’s low Irish voice stopped him from behind. “So this is how you spend your free time, Major? Forcing your men to stand around half naked? I
think that’s covered in the army’s harassment policy, isn’t it?”

  Ellison immediately started to boil. Disagreeing over a course of action behind closed doors was one thing. This was something else. McCann had warned him…no, he ordered him not to lose his temper, but Hayden was the one forcing the issue. This was on him. He was the problem, and Ellison knew how to deal with problems.

  Ellison turned around. For a second, he couldn’t find the man; Hayden was still wrapped in the shadows, but then an orange glow from a lit cigarette gave him away.

  Ellison watched as Hayden’s thin silhouette stalked forward. “Agent Hayden, I didn’t realize you had permission to be out here.”

  Hayden laughed. “Good thing I don’t need your permission. Not for anything really. Isn’t that right, Major?” As Hayden spoke, he stepped out of the shadows, and Ellison could see that he still wore the same dark suit from earlier in the day, only now he was also draped in a long camel-hair overcoat.

  Ellison clenched his jaw and said, “That may be the case, but I’m still the Executive Officer at Blaney, and Colonel McCann wants to know—”

  “Let me try that again. I don’t answer to you, Major, and I sure as hell don’t answer to McCann.” Hayden dragged on his cigarette, then flicked the butt to the ground. “As for what the colonel wants to know, maybe we should start with how you’re disciplining his men.”

  Ellison’s whole body went taut; it was all he could do to keep his voice steady. “I’m responsible for all discipline on Fort Blaney, and this—”

  Hayden stepped closer, eyeing the half-clothed lieutenant. “Doesn’t look like discipline to me. Looks like some asshole trying to compensate for something.”

  Before Ellison could answer, Lieutenant Brown darted forward, his words spilling out like water over a dam. “Agent Hayden, if you could speak to Colonel McCann. Tell him—”

  Brown’s voice was lost in a high-pitched wheeze, gasping for air. Hayden had moved like lightning. An open-hand check to Brown’s throat had cut off his wind. Then a knee to the stomach doubled the man over, and it all happened so fast that Ellison couldn’t intervene.

  Hayden still held Brown by the shoulder, keeping him upright. He reached around under his coat, pulled a 9mm Sig out from behind his back, and shoved the muzzle down into the back of Brown’s neck.

  “Put the gun down!” Mandel shouted in his deep voice.

  Ellison glanced to his right and saw the sergeant with his rifle raised, leveled at Hayden. From the other side of the hangar door, Private Williams was doing the same.

  Hayden kept his eyes down, fixed on the lieutenant. “What do you think, Major?”

  Ellison didn’t answer.

  Hayden pushed down on the Sig, forcing Brown’s head lower. “You know the difference between you and me, Major? I would pull the trigger, and these men know it.”

  “Shoulder your rifle, Sergeant,” Ellison ordered.

  Mandel lowered the M-4, his eyes never leaving Hayden. Then he slung the rifle over his shoulder. Private Williams did the same.

  For the first time, Hayden looked up and met the eyes of Ellison. “I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson tonight. Haven’t we, Major?”

  Ellison stood rigid, staring back without expression.

  Hayden tucked his Sig behind his back. Then he pushed Brown sideways. The lieutenant sprawled face-first into the ground. Without another word Hayden started into the hangar.

  Ellison still didn’t move; he waited until Hayden was far inside before he finally spoke. “Sergeant.”

  “Sir.” Mandel straightened to attention.

  “Get Lieutenant Brown back up on his feet. Keep him at attention until 0700.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ellison looked down at the lieutenant, still writhing on the ground. Mandel knelt down next to him, hooked a hand under his arm, and pulled him to his feet. Brown staggered upright.

  Ellison nodded, satisfied at the effort from Brown and confident that Mandel would follow his orders even if Brown couldn’t. One problem, at least, was solved.

  As for Hayden, he was right. They had learned an important lesson tonight. Ellison saw now that he had underestimated the man. A simple mistake he wouldn’t make again. Hayden was going to be a very different problem, and sooner or later, Ellison knew he would have to handle him.

  “Sergeant,” Ellison barked.

  “Sir.”

  “I want to know everything Agent Hayden does on this base. Watch him. Make note of his movements. Report it directly to me; no one else.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mandel answered, raising his hand in salute. Ellison returned the gesture with a quick swipe of his brow. Then he turned and walked back inside the hangar.

  Chapter 3

  “Jeremy,” a whispered voice in the darkness—low, familiar, pleading.

  “Jeremy,” the voice called again, louder this time. It sounded close, like it was right in front of him. But why couldn’t he see the speaker?

  Jeremy blinked his eyes, and the darkness melted into white, fuzzy light. It didn’t last. The shadows crept back in. Then Jeremy realized the shadows were forming into people. He blinked his eyes again, and the blurred images sharpened into focus. That’s when he saw him, the person standing closest to him, the one who had been calling his name. It was his father.

  All at once Jeremy was aware of everything. He knew where he was. He was standing in the emergency room at the University of Pennsylvania—his dad’s hospital. He hadn’t been there since the explosion, but it didn’t matter. Everything still looked the same. The beige walls. The off-white tile floor. The pale fluorescent lights.

  On his left, out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy could see a huddle of doctors and nurses standing around a patient. Over his dad’s shoulder, in the waiting room, he could see a row of chairs filled with more patients. Some of them held gauze bandages to their faces or on their arms, but no one was moving. At least Jeremy didn’t think they were moving—not the doctors or the nurses or the patients—they all looked frozen in place. He looked closer and then he realized they weren’t completely still either, not entirely. They were moving, only very slowly. It was like everyone in the hospital was swimming through tar.

  Then there was his dad. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Jeremy knew that his father was dead. He knew that what he was seeing was impossible, but right now he didn’t care.

  Jeremy found his voice. “Dad!”

  “Hey, bud. How you feeling?”

  Jeremy laughed. “I feel like I got hit by a bus.”

  His dad laughed too. “Well, you look good, all things considered.”

  “Dad, how is this even possible? How are you here?” Then a sudden thought, “Am I…?”

  “No, you’re not dead, Jeremy. You’re here in a memory—my last memory, a couple of seconds captured and stretched in time. You’re here because I need to talk to you.”

  Jeremy looked closer at his dad. Something was off. Even though he was talking, his dad wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his father’s head was turned away to the side and his eyes were fixed on something in the waiting area.

  Jeremy turned his head too, following his father’s eyes toward the ER doors. “What are you looking at?”

  Then Jeremy heard his dad shouting next to him, “No! Jeremy! Don’t—”

  It was too late. In the waiting area, Jeremy could see a man wearing a gray uniform. He was standing between two rows of chairs, but the man wasn’t a patient. He was dressed like a paramedic. He held his right arm up to his chest, and his hand was clenched in a fist. Jeremy looked closer at the man’s face. He was young, maybe a few years older than Jeremy, with dark hair and patchy stubble across his jawline. His heavy brows were knit together and his lips were contorted as if in the middle of a voiceless scream.

  Then, all at once, life came back to the emergency room. There was the dull hum of hushed conversation, and everyone in the waiting area looked like they were moving again at normal speed. Jer
emy heard his name. It was just a whisper this time from his dad. He turned back to look, to see what his dad wanted, but then Jeremy ran out of time.

  In an instant, it was all gone. His dad, the medic in gray, the patients sitting in their chairs, the whole emergency room—everything was gone, lost in brilliant, blinding light. There was no sound.

  Jeremy felt himself jerked back into the air, and for a moment, he was falling. He landed heavy on his back, and his head slammed against the floor. Then the blinding light from before went suddenly black, and Jeremy’s ears buzzed with a high-pitched ringing. And he couldn’t breathe.

  *****

  Jeremy sat straight up in the bed, gasping for air. He gulped in a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough. He took another, and then another. The whole room felt like it was spinning under him. Jeremy reached for the heavy plastic railing on the side of the bed. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and then the vertigo passed.

  He opened his eyes and looked around the room. The floor, the counter on the opposite wall, the curtains over the window, and even the painting next to the door all existed in various shades of beige. Then he noticed the plastic tubing laced under his nose, and Jeremy knew exactly where he was. He looked over at his left hand, still holding onto the bed railing, and his suspicions were confirmed. He saw a pair of white hospital bracelets around his wrist, and farther up his arm, a thin IV needle stuck under his skin, taped down in place. Jeremy looked over to his right. On his right hand a gray plastic clip covered his index finger, and a single gray wire snaked from the clip to an electronic monitor. Jeremy reached down and pulled the clip free from his hand. The electronic monitor sounded an alarm.

  “Hey, take it easy, kid.” The dull voice behind him took Jeremy by surprise. He didn’t know anyone else was in the room with him, let alone standing that close to his bed, but now Jeremy could see the nurse over his shoulder. He wore mint green scrubs and had a thick black goatee. His thinning hair was slicked straight back over his head.