by Nick Braker
Rolling out of bed, he hurried into the living area, flipping the light on as he passed through. He didn’t want to leave Jules out there too long, so he darted across the living area and opened the door quietly. She slipped in and he shut the door behind her.
“Hi,” she said as she smiled at him.
She focused her eyes on his. Asher started to respond but her appearance demanded his attention. Now he understood why she was staring at him, she was gauging his reaction. Her normal jeans and shirt had been replaced with a dark red dress, nearly full length. The dress covered her shoulders and just below her knees. It was magnificent and fit her perfectly, revealing the contours of her slim, athletic body. It had a tasteful, moderate cut bust line. Being honest with himself, he expected this style from her because she was not like his other female relationships. He was certain she was no longer interested in just talking. In her hand was a bottle of wine.
“I hope you have some wine glasses. I did not dare bring any with all the sneaking around I have to do,” she grinned.
“Wow, you look great. What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“Our two month anniversary, of course,” she chided. “Two months ago today, we kicked some alien butt and sent several others packing.”
Asher laughed as she handed him the bottle. It was labeled Chateau d’Yquem. He had never heard of it and he couldn’t even pronounce it. It didn’t matter though as he couldn’t get the dress out of his mind. With herculean effort, he tried to focus on something else.
Fail.
“Yes, we did. Let me find a way to open this,” he said, as he walked across the living room to his kitchenette.
A medium sized alcove was really more of an appropriate description for the kitchenette. The rumor was that their quarters were some of the better ones offered in the facility. He had yet to verify that in the eight weeks spent here in training. He stopped as he’d been so focused on opening the bottle that he completely didn’t hear what Jules had said to him. The next thing he knew, she had crossed the room and had given him a gentle slap to the back of his head.
“I said, I have that covered. What is going on up there?” she gently rubbed the back of his head with her hand and with the other one she handed him the corkscrew.
“Ah, there it is,” he said, picking up the opener from her hand as if that was exactly where he knew he’d find it.
She mumbled something at him but he was still thinking about her and that dress. He opened the bottle easily. He then deftly grabbed two regular glasses and poured them both some wine.
“I gather you do not know anything about wines?” she inquired, taking a drink.
“I know a great deal about their effect,” he said, following suit.
“That bottle is not cheap. Savor it as much as you can,” she said, moving right in front of him so their eyes met directly.
“Not cheap? Dare I ask?”
“You know I work the markets for extra money. That Lamborghini outside the sorority was mine,” she mused.
He gazed at her.
“Beautiful, smart and rich,” he said.
She giggled at him.
“If you say so.”
He gathered both glasses, filled them again and handed one back.
“So, you look absolutely ravishing. I have to admit, I am pleasantly surprised. How did you manage--” he started to ask her a question but she gently interrupted him. It was something she did a lot, anticipating what he was going to ask.
“It seems that our service to the agency has perks for those they want to keep happy. I kid you not, Josephina-- I mean, Seph, got all pissy with Tom and said she wanted two additional workout machines for her calves and hamstrings. He protested at first but she would not relent and he caved. We already have machines for those muscle groups but she wanted a special version of them,” she started laughing. “I swear, I think she did it just to see how far she could push him.”
Asher couldn’t help himself and he started laughing too. Her laugh was so infectious. It sounded warm with playful tones. She handed him the empty glass.
“Please sir, may I have some more?” she said, using her best British accent, imitating the scene from Oliver Twist.
He recognized it immediately, so he played along.
“You... WANT... MORE...?” he said, completely butchering the accent.
He pulled his hand back as if to playfully swing at her mocking the old man from the movie using his cane. She darted away and he quickly followed, nearly crashing into his own coffee table. The wine was very potent. Between the two of them, they had already finished off the bottle and were now chasing each other around the room, laughing. She made a beeline through the door to his bedroom, trying to get away from him. Her movements were swift and agile during the entire chase but she tripped near his bed and fell. In midair, she twisted and landed on her back, completely on the bed. He smiled inwardly as he saw through her ploy but wasn’t about to let her know he was on to her. He tripped too and ended up on top of her, softening his landing with ease. He laid there for several seconds as they stared into each other eyes enjoying the closeness. She giggled at him.
“Sir, may I have some more?” she asked.
Her smile faded, replaced with a look of hunger. She wasn’t playing anymore.
“Well, it seems we’re out of wine. I guess you’ll have to try something else. Is there anything else you want?” Asher asked.
He had to control his breathing. Between the chase and her intoxicating presence beneath him, he was breathing hard and nearly out of breath.
“Yes, more...,” she said.
She kissed him. Asher returned it. The wine from earlier was still on her lips. He really didn’t like the taste of the wine but now it was bittersweet. Her lips were soft and playful. She bit him gently, pulling his lip with her teeth. She released and watched it spring back, followed by his smile. He felt his passion building but something else was there as well. Jules was a very special woman and he didn’t see her in the same way as the others. He started to explore that feeling but quickly pushed it aside in favor of his immediate goal. He had her and he would take this all the way. There was still that nagging feeling something wasn’t quite right. Was Jules the one for him? At the moment, it didn’t matter.
The memory lingered but a loud voice nearby pestered him. Asher tried to ignore it but eventually it became impossible. Looking up, there was Tom barking orders at him. He shook the memory of Jules from his mind and focused on Tom.
“Where the hell are you at, Asher?” Tom barked at him.
“Just enjoying the warmth, Tom,” he lied.
It pissed Tom off to be called by his first name and not sir but he didn’t care. They had come to the same conclusion, as Jules had, that Tom would put up with a lot from them. He certainly didn’t give other members of WSO any slack, which became a sore spot among the others training here. Of course, no one else here had seized control of an actual alien spacecraft from another galaxy, killed the murderous aliens onboard and had a host of other accolades before getting even an ounce of training.
“Get to the firing range, now,” he demanded. “You’re already late.”
Asher complied by jogging across the road, passing several barracks-like buildings and finally running along the perimeter of their outdoor training area. He eventually came to the firing range, which spread out to his left and right. Small booths divided by thick wooden walls lined the beginning section with each booth containing a shelf with trays for gun and ammo. Greg watched him as he took the booth next to him. Their instructor had called a halt to all fire and had ordered them to check their weapon and reload.
“Hey,” Greg said.
“How’s practice?” Asher replied.
“Magnificent as usual. Brandon is shooting in the 95 percentile and Weston is on his heels.”
“How are you doing?” Asher asked.
“Like shit,” he replied.
Changing the subject, Greg looked
around conspiratorially.
“I see Tom is still hanging around,” Greg continued. “I hear from some of the other recruits he never really spent much time at this facility before we arrived.”
Tom was talking with their instructor. They both glanced in his direction. He watched Tom and Fisk talking and was convinced it was about him.
“They’re probably trying to figure out how to get me here on time in the mornings,” Asher laughed. “Like that is going to happen.”
“Or to find a good reason to kick your butt out of here,” Greg joked.
“Too true, slacker.” Weston said, snickering at Asher
Asher returned to checking his gun. WSO used standard issue .38 specials. He picked his up and checked it. It was loaded.
Ready to go.
Fisk gave the order and the trainees fired. Asher felt great this morning and it was time to show off to his buds, the other trainees and Tom, in particular. The last several nights changed some things for Asher. Jules had previously mentioned special treatment for her group and it had come up again last night during another midnight visit. He would see how far he could take it. He unloaded his gun as fast as his finger could pull the trigger. He shot his last shell and his finger stopped automatically. After each student had fired their rounds, Fisk called for a halt. Both he and Tom walked up to his booth.
“Is the practice paying off, Asher?” Tom asked.
Both Greg and Weston started laughing under their breath.
“What are you two grunts laughing at?” Fisk demanded.
“Sir, looks like trainee Asher hit the target only once,” Greg said, showing more respect than Asher would.
“Asher, you need to take this seriously. Do I need to remind you why?” Fisk demanded.
“No but honestly, this is way too easy and it’s boring the hell out of me. Shouldn’t I be doing something that challenges me?” he asked.
He threw the gun on the shelf. Fisk’s mouth dropped open like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I don’t need this crap. I’m done here. Let me know when you can actually teach me something.”
Asher walked off.
“You sorry bag of shit! Get your--”
Tom held up his hand to Fisk.
“Hold on, Fisk. Check the target for me personally,” Tom asked.
Fisk started to protest but Tom motioned him quiet and pointed at the target. Fisk nodded and barked an order to Arlene, another one of the trainees, to retrieve the target.
“Safeties on,” Fisk ordered. “Guns down.”
Arlene retrieved the target mat and handed it to Fisk. He examined it and then, with a look of disbelief, handed the mat to Tom. Tom’s eyes grew wide briefly.
“He didn’t miss once,” Tom said quietly in astonishment. “Fisk.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Accelerate their training,” Tom said as he turned to leave.
Asher walked along the path back to the facility. He was done here. The last eight weeks had been both completely exhausting and absolutely the best time of his life. Jules was simply, hands down, one of the most incredible women he’d ever met. Their relationship now included the physical side and she was a tiger in the bed. He couldn’t wait for her to sneak into his quarters each night and the thought of her leaving by morning always put him on edge. He hated to admit it to himself but he missed her when she was gone.
He would have to fix that soon. No one could replace Beth. No one ever would. He loved her more than his own life and his promise would never be broken. He was going to make another broken heart.
The next day, Asher rolled out of bed. He dressed in his workout clothes and grabbed a protein shake from the meager selection of food items his kitchenette offered. Stepping out of his apartment, he headed straight for the facility’s weight room. It was a long walk through the underground facility and that, unfortunately, gave him time to think. No one had talked with him. Not his friends, not Tom, not even Jules had stopped by since he gave his ultimatum to Tom and Fisk yesterday. He wondered how long it would take before someone felt the need to talk to him. Of course, having spent the rest of the day avoiding everyone had made it that much more difficult for them to satisfy their need. He simply wasn’t in the mood for any of it. He was a doer and sitting around, even with the training, was a waste of his time. The aliens weren’t waiting around and neither was whatever they were planning. It felt like Evansville all over again. He had to leave Evansville to continue his personal mission... he needed to leave Devils Shores.
Damn it.
People are dying and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in the wrong place, doing the wrong things. He needed to be a part of the action and a big part of him needed to be in control. Beth’s death still stung him and the aliens that killed her needed to pay.
I will never forget. They will all die.
He sighed. His thoughts were going down a road he’d already driven. He shoved them aside. He drew closer to the workout facility and that should be his focus right now. His workout routine was based on the day of the week and although he varied things a bit each time, it was always the same muscle group. He was sore from the past several workouts and his mind was already trying to find ways to avoid the pain that came with it. Asher ignored both, as he always did, and continued. The door opened and the room’s lights came on as he scanned his badge. The weight room was empty of people but not of the odors. It was certainly kept clean but there wasn’t really anything that could be done to remove the odor of so many people working out each day. It lingered and hung in the air, covered by the smells of various cleaning solutions. It was all part of the ambiance of working out and he loved it. The pain during the work out, the days of being sore afterward, the odors, all of it was the second, single, greatest distraction from his thoughts.
The rest of the grunts within the complex were topside. The training regimen schedule meant that everyone was currently at firearms practice right now. It explained the empty hallways and the empty room. None of that mattered now as the mind-numbing bliss of working out was about to start. Asher loved the distraction from thinking while working out and today was no exception. He worked through three sets of both chest and triceps and was about to throw in another set each when the door opened. Tom walked in and stopped just a few feet inside the doorway.
So, 24 hours is the magic number.
Asher nodded at him but didn’t say anything.
“How’s the workout?” Tom asked, as if he were just making conversation.
“Peachy,” Asher said, answering through clenched teeth and labored breathing.
Tom sat down on a bench next to him.
“Want to talk about it?” Tom prodded.
“No.”
Asher didn’t even notice Tom’s two minutes of silence.
“Another ten deaths reported since yesterday. Five out of France and the rest scattered across the planet in various countries.”
“That so?” Asher replied heavily having just finished one of his sets. “From the previous reports I’m spoon fed each day, it seems France is a hotbed of alien activity.”
“Obviously. You tell me though, why France?”
“No idea, but you have to conclude there is something significant about that country or something they’re doing that would explain the alien’s interest.”
Tom nodded.
“Have you heard about New York yet?”
“What about New York? Someone else lose some glands?” Asher quipped.
“That was cold,” Tom said with some surprise in his voice.
Asher switched machines and started another set.
“People die all the time. I’m not going to let it bother me that humans did it yesterday and now aliens are doing it today.”
“You know, we’ve never really talked about Bree, Fira and Rosalyn.”
The weight Asher pushed felt like it was now ten times heavier and it slammed back into its starting position with a loud me
tallic crack.
“Don’t...,” Asher warned.
“You can’t blame yourself for their deaths,” Tom pushed.
“Seriously, dude, shut up about it,” Asher could feel his face redden even more than it had from the strenuous workout.
“Asher, there was nothing you could do.”
“I... don’t... want to talk about it,” Asher said sternly.
“I need to talk about it. Why did the aliens kill them? Think--”
“Shut up!” Asher sat up and pointed a finger a Tom.
“--about it. They’ve only gone after a certain demographic of people. Why kill those three?” Tom insisted.
Asher felt the rational side begin to retreat.
“Tommy boy, you’re about to get your ass kicked if you don’t drop it,” Asher said, glaring at him.
Tom stood, facing Asher.
“Stop talking about it then and do it. Hell, do something.”
Chapter 14
GREG COMES ONLINE
Earth - WSO Training Facility
August 08, 1987 - 9:30am
Asher heard it in Tom’s voice. He was taunting him and that was all he would take. He sprang at Tom, intending to tackle him to the ground. Tom side stepped and Asher felt a sharp smack on the backside of his head. Asher flailed wildly to get a hold on Tom but instead went sailing by and landed on the other side of the bench Tom had been sitting on. He had the wind knocked from him but he ignored it and jumped to his feet. He stepped toward Tom and swung his right fist at his face. The blow didn’t land as Tom brought his left arm up to block it high and followed quickly with a slap to Asher’s face. Asher’s eyes went wide and his anger deepened. He swung with his left but Tom ducked and came up again to slap him. Asher was livid but he wasn’t stupid. Tom was trying to make him angry so he would keep fighting wildly and he was goading him to make each move first.
Okay, Tommy boy. Try this.
