ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1)

by Jason R. James

  It had been little more than a week since the attack on Chicago, and Blaney was finally regaining some sense of normalcy. It was a far cry from the atmosphere on base when they first got back. In those first few days after the attack everyone seemed to be running on adrenaline and caffeine, but now that raw emotion was fading. People were getting back to just doing their jobs. That was the power of routine. It possessed a gravity of its own that was hard to escape, always pulling the men back to the task at hand.

  Of course not everything could go back to normal. Following Chicago, Mirror recommended a temporary hiatus on Anom combat training. She argued they needed the time to come to terms with what happened—with what they’d seen and done. Ellison disagreed. He thought the team should double down on its training. Now they understood the real threat they were facing, but Colonel McCann was convinced otherwise. Combat training would resume early next week.

  Ellison’s schedule had changed as well. He was assigned a new daily briefing with Dr. Barnes regarding his patients. It was a tedious assignment at best. Ellison didn’t mind talking to Barnes in principle—there was actually a reason to talk to the doctor thanks to the events in Chicago—but daily?

  After the first three days of listening to the same litany of vital statistics, treatments, and prognoses, Ellison had the broad strokes memorized. Maybe meeting every other day would work just as well, but those weren’t his orders. Colonel McCann ordered a daily briefing, and if nothing else, Ellison could follow orders.

  The elevator doors opened, and Ellison stepped inside. He pressed the button for the eighth floor, and the car began to climb.

  Of course meeting with Barnes wasn’t the problem—not today. The real problem was Special Agent Hayden. The man had no regard for anyone beside himself—that much was obvious. Why else would he schedule a briefing for 0930 if not to cause as much disruption as possible? The fact that Hayden’s “briefing” was little more than a glorified meet and greet only made matters worse.

  Ellison requested to be excused from the briefing, but McCann denied the request—end of story. Instead, Ellison had to change his own routine. He shortened his morning briefing with Captain Reyes in the command center and rescheduled his briefing with Dr. Barnes from 0930 to 0900. That should have given him plenty of time, but then a flurry of messages referencing the Red Moon and Chicago were flagged overnight, and Reyes took the time to present each and every one. Now Ellison was late for his meeting with Barnes.

  The elevator doors opened again, and Ellison stepped out. Dr. Barnes was waiting for him. The man looked tired, but as far as Ellison was concerned, the doctor always looked tired. He had heavy bags under both of his eyes, thin, white hair on top of his head, and his mouth was held partway open so the air would wheeze over his teeth every time he took a breath.

  When Ellison stepped from the elevator, Barnes shifted his weight from one foot to the other. That was it—the only acknowledgment of Ellison’s arrival. There was no salute or words of greeting. He didn’t even smile. He was waiting for the major to blink first.

  Ellison bristled. “Good morning, Doctor.”

  “What kept you?” Barnes’ voice coughed out like wood running over sandpaper.

  The anger bubbling under Ellison’s skin felt suddenly red-hot, but he knew better than to show it here. Screaming at the doctor now would amount to little more than a tantrum, and Ellison didn’t have the time. His anger could wait.

  “What’s your report today?”

  “Come with me.” Barnes turned and started down the hallway. Ellison followed. They stepped through the first door on the left.

  Inside the room, Ellison could hear the electronic beeps and the mechanical whirs of a dozen machines. There were indicator lights and monitors and tubes and bags all surrounding the bed at the center of the room, and lying on the bed, was Talon.

  Talon’s eyes were closed and bruised, colored a deep purple that faded into yellow-green. His nose was swollen too from where it had been broken, although Ellison thought it was less puffy than the day before. A white gauze bandage twined around his head like a turban, and ventilator and feeding tubes were taped down to his face. Both of his arms were out from under the sheets. On his left, IV tubing ran up his arm and a pulse oximeter clipped over his index finger. On the other side, Talon’s right hand was missing entirely, and the stump of his wrist was wrapped in more white gauze.

  Dr. Barnes pulled the chart from the foot of the bed and began his recitation. “Talon’s vital signs remained unchanged over night. We continue to monitor pressure in his brain and will keep him in an induced coma for the time being. The amputation of the right hand continues to heal and shows no current signs of infection. New x-rays were taken this morning of the skull fracture and the spinal column.”

  Barnes turned to the wall. He flipped a switch, and a bright screen flickered on behind the two x-rays. Ellison could see the pictures now. On the left side was Talon’s head in profile, a thin jagged line running from the back of his skull down towards his neck. It didn’t look like much—at least not to Ellison—but according to Barnes if the fracture were any worse Talon would already be dead. On the right side of the screen Ellison looked at the x-ray of Talon’s spine, the individual vertebrae stacked one on top of another.

  Barnes said, “These new x-rays give us the clearest picture yet of Talon’s spinal injury and the foreign object located around the T6 and T7 vertebrae.” Barnes looked up from the chart and pointed to the x-ray of the spine; he traced his finger in the shape of a rectangle around two of the vertebrae. “You can see the outline of the object here.”

  Ellison looked closer. He could just make out the pale lines surrounding the bones.

  “The best we can tell, whatever this foreign body is, it completely encapsulates those two bones. Now, curious enough, those also happen to be the two vertebrae that were fractured in the event. You can see the breaks here.”

  Ellison didn’t bother to look; he knew this part of the diagnosis by heart and he was ready for some real answers. “But what is the object? How did it get there?”

  Barnes shrugged. “We still don’t know, Major, and we’re not poking around to find out. Mirror thinks it may be one of his constructs, a part of his ability that he put up at the last second to stay alive. That’s the best answer I’ve heard so far, but who really knows?”

  Ellison seethed. It was the same answer to the same question he asked yesterday. Following orders was one thing, but meeting with Dr. Barnes was fast becoming a waste of his time. What’s more, Ellison suspected that Barnes was wasting his time on purpose—he certainly wouldn’t put that kind of pettiness past the old man—but he would deal with it all later. For now, he needed Barnes to move on.

  “Can we check the other patient, Doctor?”

  Barnes nodded. “This way.”

  The doctor turned and shuffled out of the room, across the hall, and into the next door on the right. Ellison followed.

  The first thing the major noticed about this new room was the quiet. It was always a stark contrast to the background noise filling Talon’s room. Here there were no machines—no beeps and whirs. Everything was still. It was almost peaceful.

  Ellison looked over at the bed, and Titan’s metal body lying on the mattress. The Anom was held down in place by thick leather straps crossing at his chest, waist, and thighs, but Ellison knew that was all an illusion—a trick to calm the nerves of Dr. Barnes and his staff. If Titan wanted to stand, those straps would prove worthless, but there was no fight left in him. His right arm was little more than a metal stump. His left arm was gone at the shoulder, and his right leg ended at the knee. Still, even if he could stand and fight, Ellison wasn’t sure that he would—not anymore. Titan had been catatonic since Chicago.

  Mirror was already in the room when they entered, standing over Titan and pressing both of her hands down against his bronze chest. This was one of her duties now too, trying to read the prisoner for information. So far it had pr
oven useless.

  As Barnes and Ellison walked into the room, Mirror stepped away to face them. “Morning, Doctor. Major.”

  “Good morning.” Ellison’s voice was sharper than he intended, but he didn’t have any more time to waste on pleasantries. He needed this to be over. He turned back to Barnes. “What’s new with this patient, Doctor?”

  Barnes reached for the chart at the foot of the bed.

  Ellison stopped him. “No. Just— Tell me what’s new.”

  Barnes stepped back, confused. “With the patient? Nothing.”

  “Good. And Mirror, did you find anything new?”

  Mirror shook her head. “No. He’s in there. I can feel him pushing back, but there’s nothing new. He’s still spiked.”

  Ellison turned on his heels. “Good. Then we can—”

  “Well, there is something new,” Barnes interrupted. “It’s not technically the patient, not anymore, but it’s new. Here, look at this.”

  Barnes turned around. On the counter, in front of the doctor, Ellison could see the other half of Titan’s right arm—the half that got ripped off in Chicago. The arm was huge. It filled the counter. The massive hand was open, facing up, and on the other side of the arm, Ellison could see the jagged break where G-Force had ripped it away.

  Mirror stepped forward to get a better look. Her perfume was distracting, and Ellison didn’t have time to be distracted.

  He snapped at Barnes instead. “What are we looking at, Doctor?”

  “We discovered something. Thought you’d want to see it. We wanted to run some tests on the amputated limbs this morning, and then this happened.”

  Dr. Barnes took his stethoscope from around his neck and held it out over the arm. Then he let it drop. As soon as the rubber tubing fell against the palm of the hand, the metal fingers snapped shut, squeezing the stethoscope as if they were wringing a neck.

  Barnes chuckled, “Just so you know, detached limbs aren’t supposed to do that.”

  “Maybe it’s a reflex or—” Ellison’s voice caught in his throat.

  “Reflex? No. Not like that.” Barnes shook his head. “Not this long after the event, and not to that degree of movement. That there—that takes thought. That takes control. We tested all three limbs and got the same result.”

  Then, for the first time all morning, Ellison smiled. “I want you to write up a report on your findings, and I’ll brief the colonel. Continue testing, but now we’re late for—”

  “There is one last thing,” Barnes interrupted again before Ellison could reach the door. “Mr. Snyder, our patient in room seven… He says he’s allowed access to a television. He says it’s provided for in his contract—whatever that means. I told him I would bring it to your attention.”

  Ellison hesitated. “I’ll have to look into it.”

  Then the major turned and left the room. Mirror followed after him. She walked half-a-step behind him all the way to the elevator. Why wouldn’t she? They were both going to the same place. They were both late for the same meeting. When the doors opened, they both stepped inside. Then, for the first time in over a week, they were alone together.

  Ellison turned to look at her. “It’s been a while.”

  Mirror kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. “I know. I told you last week I needed time. I need my space. I need to come to terms with—”

  “Terms with what happened. Yeah, you told me. That’s why I backed off.”

  Mirror looked sideways, catching his eye. “I know you have, and I appreciate that.”

  Ellison turned back to face the doors of the elevator. “There’s just one thing I can’t wait on— not anymore—and it has nothing to do with you and me. It’s about my team, and it’s about Chicago, and it’s about you contradicting my orders over the radio. That can’t happen again. I told G-Force to engage with a hostile target, and you flat-out told him to ignore my order. That cannot happen again. Not once. Not ever. When we’re out in the field, I am in command. Why would you ever think you have the authority—”

  “Why would I?” Mirror stepped back and turned to face him now, her voice rising. “Why would you? What did you think was going to happen down there? G-Force should be dead right now. You ordered him to face a monster, and he should be dead.”

  Ellison nodded. “That’s right. Sometimes our service requires sacrifice.”

  “No. That wasn’t sacrifice. You wanted him to fail. You wanted him dead. Hell, I think you wanted the whole mission to fail. Like waiting on EOD? You knew there were explosives in the tower. Why wasn’t there an EOD team in the insertion chopper? You couldn’t anticipate the door being rigged? Come on, Major.”

  Ellison’s face flushed. “What are you implying—”

  Mirror shook her head. “You’re a lot of things, Stuart, but you’re not stupid. Neither am I. Let’s stop acting like it.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Mirror walked out. Ellison was left alone.

  He could appreciate her anger. If he could only see half the picture—the half where a few hundred lives in Chicago were all that mattered—maybe he would be angry too. But Ellison couldn’t afford that luxury—not anymore. In the end, Mirror was right: Neither one of them was stupid. Maybe they both just needed more time.

  Ellison stepped out of the elevator and walked to the conference room. He was the last to arrive. As he stepped through the door, he could feel everyone's eyes watching him. Colonel McCann sat at the head of the long table, his face rigid. Next to him, on his right, sat Hayden. The CIA agent wore a creased gray suit with his stringy blonde hair twisted up in a bun. Next to Hayden and across from the colonel sat two men Ellison had never seen before. The first one, the man sitting closest to Hayden, was tall with broad shoulders and a thick neck. His face was hard, weathered with age, and the top of his head was covered by short, dark bristles of hair.

  The second man sat in an electric wheelchair at the foot of the table. Ellison tried to size him up quickly without staring. He was younger than the first, thin and pale, and his face was all angles. His head was completely bald, even devoid of eyebrows, and it seemed to Ellison more a case of genetics than a conscious choice of his barber. As for the chair, Ellison couldn’t tell if the man was paralyzed from the waist down or if his legs were missing and replaced by prosthetics—but one thing was certain: Jutting out of either shirt sleeve, in place of hands, the man wore a pair of silver hooks.

  As for Mirror, she claimed the seat on the other side of McCann, and she was the only one of the lot not to look up and stare as Ellison entered—but that was better. He despised them all, even McCann, for the way they were looking at him, and he didn’t want to hate her too.

  The only empty chair left at the table was next to Mirror. Ellison pulled it out and slid into place without a word of apology. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

  Finally, after the silence had lingered long enough, McCann turned to address Hayden. “I think you can begin.”

  “Right.” Hayden rose to his feet. “This here is Agent Morris,” Hayden indicated the bristle-haired man next to him with a sideways nod of his head, “and that’s Agent Dubov.” Another nod, this time toward the man in the wheelchair at the end of the table. Then Hayden returned to his seat.

  McCann stood. “It seems that in the wake of Chicago, our friends at the CIA finally felt like sharing some pertinent information. Agents Morris and Dubov have been reassigned to Fort Blaney to facilitate our new mission moving forward. Agent Morris has the details.”

  Morris stood up, reached into his inside jacket pocket, and retrieved a flash drive. “What you’re about to see is beyond top secret, so you’re only getting it once. Pay attention.”

  He plugged the drive into a USB port at the edge of the table, and then the monitor on the wall flashed to life. It showed a black and white picture—some security image from a science lab. Two men stood frozen on the screen wearing long white coats, their backs turned to each other as they faced opposite walls.


  Hayden took over. “What you’re going to see is a video from twenty years ago taken from a Reah Labs research facility outside of Davenport, Iowa.”

  The image on the screen began to play. Ellison watched as the man on the right, the taller of the two, turned to face his colleague. The other man kept working, unaware. Then Ellison watched as the taller man pulled a small handgun out from behind his back. He shot, twice. There was no sound, but Ellison could tell from the kickback of the gun and the flash of the barrel. Two quick shots. It was obvious from the way the tall man was standing that he wasn’t trained—maybe he never held a gun before in his life—but from that range it would be impossible to miss.

  The shorter man collapsed to the floor. Then the taller man stepped over him, stood above him, and he shot again. He stood there, frozen as if the video had been paused again, but Ellison could see the timestamp moving. This must have been his first kill.

  Then, suddenly, the tall man was moving again—quicker this time. He looked panicked. First he was back to the counter where he was working. He picked up something, a canister maybe, and he put it inside his briefcase. Then he was at his computer. He ejected a CD from the drive and put another in its place. He tossed the ejected CD into the briefcase as well.

  The man was hurrying now. He went across the room to a filing cabinet. He pulled a handful of files and tossed them into the case. Then it was back to his computer. He ejected the CD, walked across the room, and loaded it again—this time in the other computer.

  He looked back at the dead man lying on the floor, and Ellison could see the tall man’s lips moving: I’m sorry.

  Then he tucked his gun back behind his pants and turned for his briefcase. He closed the lid, latched it shut, and walked for the door; as his hand found the doorknob, he turned one last time, looking up at the camera. The image on screen froze again.