Jeremy spun away from the tree, shaking his hand in the air. It felt like his whole fist exploded on impact. He looked down at his knuckles: red, scraped, and bloody. He flexed his fingers making sure they still worked. Maybe punching a tree wasn’t the best idea, but if this is what it took…
Jeremy turned back to face the tree, squaring up again, his fists up and poised, ready to fire another punch. He took another deep breath as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to push back the frustration and fear boiling up from his stomach. He had done this before—He had done so much more than this—so why couldn’t he do it now? In the street with the bus he was scared, and he just reacted. In the mall, facing that other Anom, he was scared then too, but that was more than just fear. Then he was angry.
Jeremy shook his head. No. It had to be something else. Langer talked about control. Anger and fear—that wasn’t control. It had to be something more. He had to believe that.
Jeremy twisted his hips and snapped another right cross into the tree. This time, nothing happened. There was no pain. He felt…nothing. It was like punching your fist against a cardboard box. Jeremy pulled back his hand, ready to punch again, but before he could start, the receiver in his ear crackled to life.
It was Talon. “Major, I have eyes on the blue team flag. I repeat, I see the blue team flag. Over.”
Major Ellison’s voice answered in a hush over the radio. “Copy that, Talon. What is your position? Over.”
“I think I’m east, maybe northeast of our flag. About a mile out.”
“What grid on the map? Over.”
“Um…maybe grid…” Talon’s voice trailed off.
“Just circle back to our position. You can guide us in. Over.”
“Copy that. Talon, out.”
Chapter 13
Ellison was pleased. They had been practicing this same strategy for the last eight weeks, and it was finally coming together. It wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was better.
Using the Anom as a scout was a necessary evil—Ellison conceded that much. Talon was raw, undisciplined, obnoxious, and fast—incredibly fast. He had located the enemy flag three minutes earlier today than the week before, and those three minutes gave Ellison an advantage.
The major reached for the contact mic on his throat. “Sergeant Graves, we’re moving to checkpoint Delta. Over.” Twenty yards in front of him, Ellison watched as Graves rose to his feet. The man had been lying prone at the base of a pine tree, and before he stood, Ellison had to admit he was difficult to see. Now he stalked forward, his M-4 tucked in tight against his shoulder, sweeping left and right along the horizon.
Graves was handpicked by Ellison to be his point man. He was a good enough soldier—probably even better than average—but he excelled at the point of a fireteam. The man had a soft step and good eyes. And he had instincts; Graves could feel his way through the forest.
Another soldier rose to his feet halfway between Graves and Ellison. This was Sergeant Shields. Shields was one of the better soldiers on the team, a born—
Suddenly a burst of noise erupted from the right, the hollow percussion of blank gunfire in ringing in the air. Ellison dove, face-first into the dirt and leaves, covering his head.
Over the radio, someone screamed, “Contact!”
Then a monotone, electronic voice said in Ellison’s ear, “Sergeant Graves is eliminated.”
Ellison cursed under his breath.
Rat-tat-tat. A three round burst of gunfire sang in the air. Ellison crawled forward over the ground into a small depression next to a gray, rounded boulder. Rat-tat-tat. Another three round burst. Ellison pulled himself up, sitting back against the rock. On his right, he could see Shields lying prone behind the trunk of a tree. On his left, nothing. Rat-tat-tat. The sound of the different guns firing in rapid succession came together in a single, constant cacophony. Ellison closed his eyes and tried to listen for the individual pieces. Seven of them? Eight, maybe?
Shields’ voice broke over the radio. “There’s a fire line at our two o’clock. Ten strong. Returning fire.”
Ellison reached his rifle up over the edge of the rock and squeezed the trigger, letting the gun empty in the direction of the enemy. He brought it back, dropped out the magazine, and slammed a new one into place, racking the first round. He had been here before.
Another panicked voice shouted over the radio, “We need to fall back. Regroup.” It was Sergeant Gunn. This was his first day out with the team. Ellison decided it would also be his last day. There was no room for panic out here, and in Ellison’s opinion, Gunn had just shown his true colors.
Ellison jammed the contact mic against his throat and growled back, “Negative. We are not falling back. We’re going to push through this and get to the flag. Rodriguez, I want you to circle back and around to our right. Watch our flank. Don’t let them get around us. Gunn, lay down heavy cover fire.”
“Copy,” the two soldiers answered almost in unison.
Ellison pressed his throat again. “Talon, you need to reach our position. Now! I want you to get above the treeline and—”
“You told me to stay below the treeline.”
“I know what I said before.”
Another burst of gunfire exploded behind him, three or four rifles all firing at once, and then the electronic voice over the radio, “Private Rodriguez is eliminated.”
Ellison spit back between clenched teeth, “Get above the treeline, and get here now!”
“Copy that.”
For a moment, there was quiet. Maybe the other team was conserving their ammo now. Or they could be peeling off to go for his flag instead. Or maybe moving around to take his unguarded flank. That would be Ellison’s choice.
Another gunshot broke the silence. Just one. Farther away. Large caliber. High power rifle. Sniper.
The electronic voice pinged over the radio, “Talon is eliminated.”
Ellison swore again under his breath.
*****
“What now?” Jeremy walked across the clearing toward Nyx. She still stood with her back toward him, facing the forest and the distant sound of machine guns.
“What now, Nyx?”
Nyx turned around, unfolding her arms. “There is no ‘what now.’ We wait here, like we were told, and we lose again.”
“I thought you had a plan.” Jeremy smirked, trying to ignore the icy stare coming back at him.
“I do have a plan, but you heard Ellison—”
“Ellison and the rest of the team are gone. No one’s going to stop you now. Unless you were making the whole thing up.”
Jeremy didn’t know Nyx—not really, not yet—but he knew her type. She was part of the A+-or-else crowd. Fort Blaney may not have been high school, but that didn’t matter. Nyx was who she was. Jeremy had planted the seed of a doubt—he questioned her ability—and she already had one foot out the door. All he needed now was to twist the knife.
“You really want to lose nine in a row?”
Nyx arched her eyebrows. “And what are you and the human paperweight going to do?”
Jeremy already knew the answer. “Stay out of your way.”
Nyx turned back to face the forest. She stood there, staring into the distance, and at first, Jeremy wasn’t sure if she was having second thoughts. Then there was a flash—a blinding pinpoint of light—and Nyx was gone.
Jeremy scanned across the woods, looking for her, his brain trying to play catch-up to what he just saw. Where could she have gone? Maybe she was nowhere. Maybe she was hiding. Maybe she went invisible. Could that be her ability? He was ready to call out, to see if she was still there, unseen, but then he caught a small movement up in a tree. It was Nyx. She was standing in the crux of an oak, more than fifty yards away and at least twenty feet off the ground. But she was only there for a moment. She blinked away again in a brilliant flash of light, and then she was gone—out of sight—and Jeremy understood. She wasn’t invisible at all. Nyx could teleport.
He turned back to Gauntlet. “Hey, you feel like helping us?”
Gauntlet didn’t move. “I told you, I’m not playing their games.”
It was obvious to Jeremy that Gauntlet’s mind was set. Trying to persuade him now would only be a waste of time.
Instead, Jeremy stepped into the underbrush. He walked a couple of feet deeper into the woods, and then he crouched down next to the trunk of a barren tree. He could still see the flag hanging limp from the top of the flagpole, and he could see the red and black armor of Gauntlet underneath, sitting on the ground.
Jeremy twisted around so his back was against the trunk, and then he waited. He wasn’t sure for how long. It was probably only five minutes. Maybe ten. He knew it was one of those times when everything feels stretched, and if you looked at your watch, it would only be half as long as you think.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire ripped through the air. Jeremy looked to his left. Four soldiers stepped out of the treeline, dressed head to toe in camouflage. They advanced in a line, matching each other step for step, their M-4's leveled in front of them, empty shell casings raining down at their feet.
The monotone voice announced over the radio, "Gauntlet is eliminated."
The four commandos dropped out their magazines. Then they each reached for a replacement from their belts, and slammed it home. Gauntlet still didn't move. The third soldier in line lowered his rifle and stepped forward, walking toward the flag.
Jeremy whispered to himself, “Now or never.” Then he stood up, holding out his hand like a traffic cop. “You can stop right there!”
He barely got out the first word. The soldier closest to him spun around, dropped to his knee, and fired a three-round burst of blanks.
The monotone voice came back over the radio. "G-Force is eliminated." Jeremy wasn't sure if he was supposed to drop to the ground now and play dead or if he should just stand still, frozen in place like Gauntlet.
The soldier who "killed" him didn't seem to care either way. He stood back up to his feet and turned slowly to his right, scanning across the tree line. The other soldier, the one going for the flag, reached for the rope holding the red flag in the air.
Then, out of nowhere, Nyx flashed into the middle clearing. She was standing directly behind the line of soldiers, and it was as if she had been there the whole time. She was still wearing her black parka, but now the coat was unzipped and she wore the blue flag from the other team wrapped around her neck like a scarf.
All four soldiers knew she was there, even with their backs turned—it must have been the flash of light. They spun around, rifles raised, pulling the triggers in a burst of gunfire. But Nyx was faster. She blinked away, and she was behind the soldiers again on the opposite side of the clearing. Then she punched out both her hands. There was another flash of light, different than before, somehow duller, and purple.
The cause of the flash was obvious. Two crackling bolts of energy shot out from both of Nyx’s fists as she punched forward, and it looked to Jeremy like they were half laser beam, half lightning bolt. Whatever it was, it was quick. The energy bolts hit two of the soldiers square in their backs, knocking the wind out of them and sending them sprawling face-first to the ground.
The two remaining soldiers spun around again and fired, but Nyx was already gone. She teleported next to the soldier by the flagpole. The man tried to turn back around, to find the right angle for his shot, but Nyx caught her arm around the man’s throat, bent over at her waist, and tossed him over her hip. He fell on his back with a heavy thud. Then Nyx dropped to her knee, slamming her fist down against his chest with another flash of purple light.
The last soldier tried to level his rifle—to take the final shot to end this—but Nyx was faster. She punched out her fist, and the purple energy bolt caught the man in his stomach, sending him back off his feet into the brush.
Then the monotone voice announced over the radio, "Red base is clear. Red team has captured the flag. Exercise complete."
And Nyx smiled.
“Woohooo!” Jeremy whooped as he bounded into the clearing, one arm raised over his head, ready for a high-five. “That was awesome!”
Nyx turned, breathless, and slapped his hand without thinking.
“How’d you do it? How’d you get their flag?”
Nyx laughed, “I just…I did the same thing I did here. I kicked their asses.”
Then Jeremy laughed too.
“Nice job, mija!” The voice was above them. Talon circled once around the clearing and then landed softly at their feet. “It’s been a long time coming. Too long, actually.”
Nyx unwound the flag from her neck and tossed it to Talon. He was silent, looking down at the blue fabric spreading over his fingers. Then, for the first time, Jeremy got some sense of their accomplishment. For Nyx and Talon, this win meant something. It was important. Gauntlet said he wouldn’t waste his time with games, but for the other two, this wasn’t just a game to them.
There was a flash of green fire from around Talon’s hands, and then the blue flag itself caught fire in a brilliant rush of orange.
“What the hell is going on here?” Ellison’s voice thundered as he stepped into the clearing, trailed by the other four soldiers of his squadron.
Jeremy, Nyx, and Talon all turned to look, snapping themselves up to attention, and it suddenly felt to Jeremy like they had just been caught sneaking their first beers. Ellison’s hood was off, and his camouflaged parka was unzipped to his waist. He carried his M-4 loose in his right hand, the barrel pointed down at the dirt, and his face was twisted up in a tight scowl. He stepped across the clearing, outpacing the rest of his men, until he reached the charred cloth of the blue team’s flag on the ground, and he stopped there, waiting for an answer.
Nyx found her voice first. “I captured the flag. We—”
“You worthless freak!” Ellison screamed at the top of his lungs, turning to spit his words directly into Nyx’s face.
The sudden change—the violence in Ellison’s voice—was crippling. It felt like someone had punched Jeremy in the gut—waves of nausea and choking for air. It was guilt and fear and confusion. It was hard to think; impossible to speak. The way Ellison said the word “freak”—it was more than just a word. It was filled with the major’s bile and hate. Jeremy realized that. He looked over at Nyx. She must have been feeling the same thing. She stood rigid, her arms locked at her sides and her eyes fixed on the dirt in front of Ellison’s feet.
Ellison still screamed into her face. “Did you get some new freak power that lets you be two places at once?”
Nyx shook her head, her voice little more than a whisper. “No, sir.”
“Then how in the hell did you capture the flag and guard this position? I gave you one job, Nyx, and it required you keeping your dumb ass here!”
This time Nyx didn’t try to answer. Jeremy looked over at Talon. Just like Nyx, his body was rigid and his arms were at his sides. Jeremy thought he looked pale.
“You are going to goddamn answer me!” Ellison snapped again, hammering out each word.
“Hey. Take it easy.” It was Jeremy’s voice, and at first he wasn’t even sure he’d spoken the words out loud, but it was him, and whether he meant to speak up or not, it was too late now.
Ellison jerked his head around, fixing his cold eyes on Jeremy. He stepped in closer, staring, daring Jeremy to look away, and when the major finally spoke, his voice was low. “What did you say, freak?”
And now any feelings of guilt or fear were gone.
“I said you need to back off, Major.” Jeremy could hear the edge in his own voice, and he didn’t care.
Ellison stepped in closer, pointing his finger at Jeremy’s chest. “You think you have any idea what’s going on here?”
“It’s called capture the flag, so yeah, I think we all have a pretty good idea about what’s going on here.”
Ellison screamed again, this time directing all his wrath at Jeremy. “You
think we care about winning some goddamn game? This exercise is about following orders! Plain and—”
“Well, they were bad orders! Ask your men!”
For a second Ellison stood frozen. Then he snapped and lost all control. Without a warning, he dropped his rifle and reached with both of his hands for Jeremy’s throat.
Jeremy stepped back and pushed hard, both his hands slamming against Ellison’s chest, throwing the major back. Ellison landed in a heap on the ground, but as soon as he hit the dirt, he was moving again, rolling over and back up on his feet.
Ellison reached for the Beretta on his hip, screaming, “Try and touch me again, freak! Touch me one more time, and I’ll—”
Jeremy was screaming back now, “What? You’re gonna shoot me with your laser gun?”
“No blanks in this one, freak-show. Touch me again and I’ll kill you! I swear to God, I’ll kill you!”
Jeremy clenched his fists, and for a second he didn’t care about the threats or the bullets, but before he could answer, a strong hand pushed him hard in the chest, and he stumbled back. Jeremy wheeled around, ready to fight, but then he saw the man who pushed him.
Gauntlet stood directly between Jeremy and Ellison, his left shoulder turned to face the major, with a large, round shield of black metal mounted to his forearm.
Jeremy looked past Gauntlet at Ellison. The major’s whole face had changed now. His eyes were wider. The tension was gone from his jaw. He looked, in a word, scared—like a kid who gets backed into a dare he never wanted to accept, and now he was groping for a way out. At that moment, Jeremy almost felt sorry for Ellison.
Then Gauntlet spoke, his voice rattling from deep behind his helmet. “Your move.”
Ellison’s face changed again. His jaw set, and Jeremy realized what came next. There wasn’t going to be a way out.
Suddenly, an olive-drab Humvee came roaring into the clearing, and before the tires could even stop, Colonel McCann was jumping out of the passenger’s side door, screaming, “Stand down! Everybody stand down right now, goddamnit! I said stand down!”
ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) Page 14
