Project Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 1)

by Brandon Ellis

  Drew gnawed one of his fingernails. “I’m alright. I’m a little shaken up over all of this. I wasn’t expecting to be running from the military all night and this morning.” He wanted to get that mess out into the open.

  “You were running from the military?”

  “Yes, because I have more information. This morning, after being chased and shot at, I sent out new images. Images which suggest the mission to Callisto isn’t merely exploratory. Tomorrow, stay tuned, because you’ll see new information on the news.”

  “Here at KMWI, Sunset to Sunrise, we’re happy to be the first to bring you those images. Head on over to our website and Facebook page, to take a look. Yes, folks, you saw it here first.”

  Drew sighed. “You uploaded them already?”

  “Watching our website numbers climb as we speak, Drew. People want to know what’s going on. So, give us the skinny. We’re all ears.”

  Drew walked and talked. “As you know, the Global Safety Administration is launching a mission to investigate the structures on Callisto. I have pictures of the technology they possess which suggests they plan to take hundreds, if not thousands of people, on this mission.”

  Drew cringed. It was impossible to black out his uncle’s name on the emails he sent out earlier today. Yet, he still sent them out and he didn’t know if that was a good idea or not. “Kaden Jaxx is the source. You’ll know this tomorrow from the news networks. He’s my uncle. Truthfully, we aren’t that close, but he asked me to help him out and research this information. As you’ve seen in mine and Jaxx’s short back and forth email dialogues, he’s helping the Global Safety Administration with hieroglyph translations from the structures on Callisto. The last email I received from Jaxx got a reaction from someone or some establishment, probably the GSA, and I received an anonymous phone call. The person on the other end let me know that if I don’t stop my investigation, I’d be killed. I was also told my uncle had been killed. I can’t verify that, though, as I don’t know exactly where my uncle is.”

  “Have you talked to him since that phone call?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think he has been murdered?”

  “I hope not. I don’t know. Maybe it was just a scare tactic, but regardless, I take that phone call seriously. I have been threatened with a death sentence. If I can get my name out there, the probability of a death sentence lessens. And, if Jaxx is still alive, the chances of him being executed will lessen as well.”

  “So, do you have any ideas as to why the GSA are keeping this a secret from us?”

  “I have plenty of ideas.” He walked across the street. His heart nearly stopped when he saw a black SUV coming around the corner. He picked up his pace and ducked behind a bush.

  “How are they getting there?”

  Drew whispered. “Just a moment.” The SUV drove slowly by, beaming a flashlight in his area. The bush, however, was thick and hid him well. The SUV hooked a left on another street.

  “I took pictures of a gigantic ship that I think they are preparing to launch. I don’t know how many people and supplies can fit on that thing, but let me tell you, it can probably fit a lot. It’s that massive.”

  “What are – ”

  “I should probably go,” Drew interrupted. “They are looking for me. I’m not safe here.”

  “Okay, I understand,” Robert replied. “Thank you, Drew. You are a true patriot. I’m sure the millions of fine folks listening tonight thank you as well. They will have a lot to think about.”

  Drew hung up and felt something press on the back of his head.

  “Stand up.” The man’s voice was low.

  Drew did, moving slowly and deliberately. He turned around, hands up, mouth shut.

  A man in a black leather jacket was pointing a gun and aiming it at Drew’s forehead.

  34

  June 6th, 2018

  Portland, Oregon

  Drew called up the precise memory he needed in that moment. He’d been six or seven, the TV his de-facto babysitter, his mom wandering around the house, absent-mindedly chatting to the furniture and singing to the cat. He’d seen a special on television about self-defense. In one scenario, the instructor had a student stick him up with a fake, wooden gun. The instructor held his hands out and as quick as a flash, the instructor criss-crossed his arms, one hand hitting the student’s inner wrist and the other hand smacking the student’s posterior hand. The action caused the gun to fling out of the student’s hand and onto the ground.

  This is what Drew knew he had to do – his only escape.

  He studied his opponent in front of him. The man had a hoody on under his leather jacket with a black bandanna over his nose and mouth. He was skinny. Too skinny. The gun shook in his hand.

  “Give me your phone,” the guy slurred, booze on his breath.

  Any second now, Drew would have this guy where he wanted him. Once the gun was out of the guy’s hand, he’d give him a swift kick to the groin and put him in a submission hold, something the instructor on television had done. It looked easy. Drew was coordinated, played a few sports growing up, and was fast. This should be a cake walk. The only problem: Drew had never punched a guy, let alone wrestled someone to the ground.

  “I said, give me your phone.”

  Drew stared, blank eyed.

  The guy shoved the gun closer to Drew’s face. “Are you deaf? Give me your phone, and then give me your wallet.”

  Drew stepped back. Was he suddenly a gun magnet?

  The man rolled his shoulders and pushed out his chest, trying to make himself bigger, more menacing. “I’m not going to ask again.”

  Drew figured the guy must be a meth addict, not a GSA hit-man. He then looked at the gun more closely. If a street lamp hadn’t been nearby, he’d have been fooled. Whatever it was that this guy was holding wasn’t a gun. It was meant to look like one, but wrapped in black electrician’s tape with a wooden handle equaled a bad fake gun.

  The guy went to grab the phone, then it vibrated. Drew moved it away from the man’s reach and looked at the caller ID.

  Hobbs Howell.

  Drew put his hand up. “Hold on. I have to get this.”

  “Oh, man. C’mon. Don’t do this. I have bullets in this thing, for reals, yo.”

  “Sorry, bro.” He didn’t want to agitate a meth-head, even if the guy had the world’s worst imitation gun. “I need my phone. It’s kinda keeping me alive.” He dug in his pockets. “Here’s ten bucks. Move on. I don’t have time for you and your toy gun.”

  The guy swiped the bill from Drew’s outstretched hand and shuffled off, muttering about how unfair the world was.

  Drew paid no attention because Hobbs was already talking. “Why did you send me pictures of a warehouse, of a ridiculous train, and – ”

  “Thought you’d like the rest of the story, boss.”

  “Drew, I saw how many people you carbon copied. Next time, please send blind copies. I don’t want everyone knowing that you included me in this scandal. I’ll air it, but to have me, Howell Hobbs, connected directly to this information as if I’m part of your government thievery is too much.”

  “I sent carbon copies so that everyone would know that if they didn’t get this story out, then another reporter and another network would. It would be a race to see who came in first.”

  He heard the SUV, before he saw it. It had that trademark “large vehicle” hum. Why the security services didn’t all have Priuses was a mystery. Those things were like the stealth fighters of cars. Drew pulled himself as close to the tree as possible. A flashlight rolled over the grass and hit his knee, though the rest of his body was hidden well behind the cedar. The car stopped and he heard a door open and shut. Footsteps came in his direction.

  The flashlight swept across the grass, one, two, three times, but was then turned off. A few seconds later, the SUV drove off.

  Drew whispered into his phone. “They’re trying to find me. They’re in an SUV.”

  “Yeah, r
ight,” said Hobbs. “And there are green men on Mars, giant mutant sucker-fish in the sewers, and ‘The Truth is Out There.’ I’ve seen your dark web page, Drew. I know the kind of conspiracy shit you’re into. Now, get your head out your ass and back in the real world. You work for me. You have to give me a little more information. I want an edge. I want to beat out the competition.”

  Drew thought for a moment. “You know the picture of the train?”

  “Yes.”

  “They use those trains – monorails – to transport secret technology from city to city. The tunnel I was in was gigantic. I boarded one in a tunnel in Plano, Texas and wound up in...” He realized it wouldn’t be a good move to give away his current location. “Let’s just say this...I stowed away on the monorail and that tunnel brought me to another city, thousands of miles away. I can’t tell you exactly how long it took me to get here, but it was fast.”

  “Which city?”

  Drew rubbed his pant leg. “It would be imprudent of me to share my location, Hobbs. We both know that.”

  “Anything else?”

  His phone beeped. It was KMWI. Probably Robert.

  “I have to go.” He hung up without saying goodbye. “Robert?”

  “Drew, man. They’re taking the pictures down as fast as we can get them up. The head of the station got a call from some tight-wad from Washington about national security. He about had a cow. He’s ordered us to stop posting your files. This thing is out of control.”

  “Goddamit,” said Drew. “At least they got the pictures of Callisto out to the public.”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  “Aw, fuck. No...”

  “Yeah, they’re spinning it. Hoax. Prank. Photoshopped. Airbrushed. No such mission, blah-blah-blah.”

  “What’s your take? Do people believe the mainstream media? Are they buying it? Or can they smell a cover up?”

  “Drewmeister, no one can tell their arse from their elbow any more, when it comes to facts. They’ve probably all tuned out to watch reruns of Game of Thrones or Battlestar Gallactica. The news cycle is short. They’ve clamped down and they’ve strangled this particular chicken.”

  “Chicken?” said Drew. He wasn’t often confused, but Robert’s weed consumption outstripped his by a good mile.

  “Figure of speech, my man. The story is dead. Find the next piece of the puzzle and I’ll do my best. See you on the dark side.” Robert hung up.

  He turned his phone off, then stared at that palm-sized miracle of modern technology. He literally had his life in his own hands. He wasn’t cut out for a life on the run. They would catch him. And when they did, he wouldn’t have his phone. He knew exactly what to do. He’d have to wait until morning, when the Post Office opened, but then he’d be sending his freedom to a place where no one could find it. He’d send his phone to his mom.

  He cuddled up against the tree. It would be a long night if he even attempted to get sleep, especially where he was sitting. One thing was for sure, going back to his motel would be a mistake. Who knew how many GSA and military eyes were watching that place right now?

  35

  June 7th, 2018

  Underfoot Black, Grenada

  Jaxx rolled away from the water and shook his head, wet-dog style. “What are you doing?”

  “Waking you, Jaxx.” It was Slade, arms folded across his chest.

  Two guards stood over Jaxx like he was a prisoner of war.

  “You going to make me look like a fool again?” Slade was all snarl and snark.

  Jaxx stood, checked his shoulder, then patted himself down with a towel. There was a faint scar where the bullet had struck him. He rubbed his chest. It was smooth, unscarred, impossible.

  “You were shot. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be dead right now.” Slade tipped his head towards the door and the guards took their cue and left.

  Jaxx sat on the wet, cold tile. He was in a locker room shower, shaking. He had a faint recollection that he’d been through this cold-water routine more than once, but decided to ask his most pressing question. His teeth chattered as he spoke, “I almost died?”

  Slade ignored the question. “You will no longer have access to the RIOUT room. You’ll be working in an office we’ve designated Project Atlantis to appease you.”

  Jaxx’s eyes widened. “You’re going to put me back to work?”

  “You’ll be working overtime. We’re behind schedule.” Slade reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, then winked. Seemed to be an odd habit. “This isn’t a reward, Jaxx. This is a carrot. I give you what you want, you give me what I want.”

  Jaxx heaved himself off the cold tile, holding himself up by leaning his hand against the wall. “And what do you want?”

  “We need your brain, Jaxx.” He threw the piece of gum in his mouth. “Nothing’s changed. We need you to translate. We need your expertise with ancient cultures, how pyramids were used as terraforming devices and power plants. And when we reach Callisto, you’ll show us how to turn the pyramids on.”

  Jaxx slid his palms down his soaked pant legs, pushing water to the floor. He felt better, more refreshed. Slade and whatever technology they had down in Underfoot Black had saved him. He touched his chest. For a wound to heal like this, he’d had to have been out for months, maybe a year.

  “Why aren’t you asking the most obvious question right now?” Slade walked towards Jaxx, his boots clacking on the tile.

  Jaxx put his hand on his knees and leaned over in an attempt to quell the spins. “I don’t know what to think about any of this.”

  “For a moment, we thought we lost you. Damned glad this place is state of the art. You’d have been a gonner on the outside. Here, we can heal what ails you and ail what irks you.” He snorted at his own joke.

  Jaxx frowned. “You lost me.”

  Slade got down to Jaxx’s level; so close that Jaxx could smell his gum. “I made sure they healed you, Jaxx; but if you cross me again, I can make your life a living hell.” He straightened his jacket as he stood. “That clear enough for you?”

  The threat jabbed Jaxx’s memory. “Captain Fox. It was him.” He backed up and bumped into the wall. His eyes darted around. “The bullets...they...Fox tried to kill...” Jaxx shook his head again, his mind pacing at a million miles a second. “Keep that guy away from me.”

  Slade raised his voice, ignoring Jaxx a second time. “By imitating the frequency of a healthy cell, stem cell lotions and sprays, along with advanced holographic healing technology, we were able to heal you in a couple of days. And, if you weren’t nearly dead, it would have gone a lot faster.”

  Jaxx bared his teeth. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes.” Slade slapped his hands together and Jaxx jerked back. “Pay attention, Jaxx. We have done you a good deed and you will do us a good deed in kind. You’ll help us even more by giving us something that we now think may be even more important.”

  Jaxx gave Slade a blank look.

  “Your memories.”

  Jaxx wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay warm.

  Slade slapped his hands together again, this time more loudly. “Look at me. We need to glean information from you. Information about Rivkah Ravenwood. Information that might benefit us.”

  Jaxx looked down. “Keep Fox away from me.”

  “He’ll still be around, watching you.”

  Jaxx tried to move backward, but was already against a wall. “That guy needs to be put away for life. He tried to murder me!”

  “That’s not how it works, Jaxx. When you send confidential information across the wire, lines get crossed, people get pissed, and you almost end up dead. He had reason to shoot you and he was justified.”

  “I refuse to help you if you have that monster following me around. Keep him out of my sight or I’ll sit on my ass and not do a damn thing.” Jaxx slammed his foot against the tile.

  “You sent vital information to Drew Avera.” There was a softness in Slade’s eyes when he spoke
Drew’s name.

  The asshole is trying to play me; pretend he has a “gentle” side; that he gets what it means to have family. He can’t soften me up that way.

  “We don’t want any of this getting out. If we hadn’t intercepted the emails Drew sent out after receiving your email, this mission would have been severely compromised or completely shut down. Do you know how many people he attempted to contact?” Slade pinched his lower lip.

  Jaxx shoulder’s drooped. “You deleted everything he sent?”

  Slade fixed his eyes on Jaxx, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry. Should I have asked your permission?”

  “I don’t care, anymore.” Jaxx, shivered even more and hung his head. “Fox is either kicked off this operation or I’m out and if you hurt one hair on Drew’s body, I’ll refuse to work at all.”

  “You fuck up again and I’ll kill you myself. Until then, you’ll be doing what we ask of you or you will be hurting Drew in ways you can’t imagine. Also, start preparing your mind for your ascent into the stars. We’re leaving soon.”

  Jaxx’s stomach about hit the floor. “How soon?”

  Slade gave him a matter of fact look. “You decoded the propulsion technology. We already have it locked in and ready. We’ll try to leave in less than a month. June 11th.”

  That quickly? How technologically advanced is this place?

  “Will Captain Richard Fox be out of my life? The guy is insane.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jaxx flung his hands in the air. “Then kill me now.”

  Jaxx could tell Slade didn’t want to concede.

  “Alright. Fox is off Jaxx patrol.”

  “Can Jon Shaughnessy join me?”

  “No. Enough of this negotiating crap. There will be another who we hope can be of service to you.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Well, are you coming?”

  “I don’t have a shirt.”

  Slade took off his own shirt and threw it at Jaxx. The guy was buffer than Jaxx thought.

  “Put it on,” Slade demanded.