Unease crept along Eitan’s spine. He fought it. Omar was giddy with his enthusiasm over what he had to share. Using a relaxation technique he’d taught himself long ago, Eitan tensed his left leg, held it for a few seconds, then released. Tension portrayed discomfort with the subject. Body language was extremely important for a man in his role. It was always vital that he be in control.
“And what would that be?” he asked, feigning annoyed disinterest.
“A girl.”
Omar’s voice was triumphant and Eitan raised an eyebrow. Swallowing a sigh, he allowed himself to rise to the bait. Wasn’t it always with Omar?
“And?” Tightening his foot, he squeezed his toes together, then released. He drummed his fingers on the table with impatience. He had no issue with either of the men knowing he thought he had more important places to be than in their presence.
“With bones on her back,” Omar continued. “Seven of them. That don’t belong there.”
His heart scrambled. Eitan had to look down to be sure they would not see the flash of interest in his eyes. He flicked at an imaginary speck on the table.
Carefully keeping his face a study of impatience, he waited for more, making sure that he continued to tap his fingers on the table. He knew the action would aggravate both men.
“She’s been brought in for observation and testing,” Dr. Ermikov broke in, a scowl on his face. “Afion thinks I have the time to babysit.” The last word was coated with contempt.
Omar rolled his eyes and continued. “Analyze,” he corrected, lacing his fingers and rolling his hands out to crack his knuckles.
“Afion wants us to determine the reason for the bones. It’s all very intriguing. She’s only five. She was born with them apparently, abandoned by her parents.” Omar’s eyes were alight with anticipation. His head nodded as he spoke.
Eitan swallowed bile. He didn’t want to think about the fate of the child under Omar’s care. This was bad. Eitan could feel it. He curved the fingers of the hand resting in his lap into a fist. Slivers of unrest dug into his spirit, prompting him to immediately begin to pray silently for the girl. His mind swirled with questions that he couldn’t ask. He understood the reason for his summons now. It was his job to know everything. He was the liaison for Afion. Everything that happened in Xis went through him, and this, a girl with strange bones on her body that set her apart from the rest of humanity, was important.
“We’re already searching for her parents. They could have the bones too. I’ve never seen anything like it!” Omar lifted a hand and traced lines into the air. Eitan counted each stroke. Seven bones. It meant something. He was afraid the conclusion he had already jumped to would occur to Afion.
To Afion, she would be nothing more than something to be observed and studied. She was a specimen. Her life was now in the hands of an army of monsters.
Omar gave him the rundown of the plan for the girl. He half-listened. Omar was one of the monsters, and he was frustrated because his current authorization was only to observe and analyze.
There was nothing Eitan could do to help the girl.
“Testing will be more advantageous. We can’t learn anything without testing.” There was hope in Omar’s statement, but Eitan had no intention of feeding it.
“No. Do what you’ve been authorized to do. I’d like weekly updates.”
Rising, he didn’t bid either of them a goodbye as he left the room, desperately needing to leave the sudden crushing oppression of Xis and find solace in the only good thing he still believed in. God.
Chapter Five
Alric carefully slid another vial inside of the fleshy torso he wore daily beneath his shirt. He had been finding opportunities all day to conceal them.
The vitamin surge was complete. Stable, viable, passing every test with exemplary results. He was the only one that was aware of that, of course, and his documented research showed nothing of the sort. That was exactly how he wanted it to be.
Under the guise of searching for, sorting, and filing paperwork, he slid a last vial into place and busied himself ruffling a few more things around. He had learned long ago that perfect organization was not conducive to squirreling away things you wanted hidden. It was better to portray disorganization. To ‘lose’ something in the mess.
Locking up, Alric made his way through the maze of hallways to the bank of elevators that would take him to the parking lot. Getting the vials out of Xis was easy. Managing to send them to another destination was a whole different matter.
One of the secrets he hid had provided the cover for extraction, and simplified the process for years. The fake torso he donned beneath his clothing every day had created a transport system that was effective and indiscernible.
Outside of Xis, he was smart enough to know not to repeat the same process over and over. He had no illusions that he was not being watched, he knew that he had to be careful and take extensive steps to protect himself.
Eron had been a gift, and really handled the transport. Alric just did as he was told. He had no idea who the man was, but for years now the hacker had been Alric’s primary contact for anything he needed that was outside of his own expertise. Eron would channel money or vials of his product, or supply him with electronics that were undetectable by Xis and which made it easier for him to not arouse suspicion about his activities outside the walls.
Alric thought about his relationship with Eron as he drove the short distance to his apartment.
His routine upon entry was always the same. His keys went into a bowl and he simultaneously hit a hidden button that scanned for bugs or cameras that might have ‘appeared’ while he was gone.
Any data collected was sent to a secure device hidden inside of the television that transmitted to eyeglasses that he wore when he watched TV or read at home. He had a second pair at the lab that he used so anyone paying attention wouldn’t think it odd that he only wore glasses at times.
Alric had decided from the start of his relationship with Eron not to try and figure out the complexities of how the devices he’d been sent worked. He told Eron what he needed, and the man delivered every time.
Undetectable communication had been the initial pressing need. Not long after Xis had first approached him, he had realized that there would be secrets he would need to keep. He had never intended for one hundred percent of his creations to remain in the hands of another.
Living a solitary life with no family and no one he trusted enough to call a friend, Alric hadn’t had to think about making such a life change after Xis had approached him.
An orphan at six, he had spent most of his life in Russian orphanages at the mercy of those around him. He had learned early not to trust anyone and to become a collector of associates and contacts. That meant he was friendless, but not alone. His past had taught him that a good contact could lead to a lot of things, and was far more important than friends.
To him, an associate was simply someone who could offer a good lead on where to find a contact for something specific, and one had led him to Eron.
Touted as brilliant and skilled at hacking, with an ability to produce the impossible and remain undetected, Alric had used a code he had been given to reach out to the mysterious man for help. He had been told that whether Eron would bother to answer the inquiry was always indeterminable. His message had been simple: he worked in a high security, dangerous place and needed a source to get things out.
Settled into his new apartment in a new city, already employed at Xis, he had heard nothing and thought Eron had decided not to help him. His active seeking of another contact with the same level of expertise had not been fruitful.
A television had arrived a couple of weeks later, and at first, Alric had thought it a mistake. The courier had tapped his pen loudly on the clipboard he’d held out when Alric had opened his mouth to protest the delivery. “You ordered this. Pretty high tech, it probably does all kinds of cool things.”
Another couple loud taps of the pen
had drawn Alric’s eyes to the paper he was being requested to sign.
Right above the signature line a clear plastic film had said ‘Eron.’ Curious, he had taken the pen and signed. The courier had lifted the papers to tear off his copy and the name had disappeared.
Alric had considered theories as to how Eron had done it while he had set the television up. Some kind of transparent ink that worked with the plastic had been his best theory. Alric admired intelligence, and concluded that Eron was the right person for his needs.
The television had seemed like nothing more than exactly what it was. It was high tech, yes, but his attempts at figuring out a source for a hidden message had reaped nothing.
A week later, the same courier had arrived with another package. This time, Alric had signed without hesitation.
Two pairs of identical eyeglasses had been inside of the delivered box, and he had put one on and waited, expectant. Wearing the second pair, thinking the first defective, he had prepared and eaten dinner frustrated, wondering if Eron was playing games with him.
It hadn’t been until he’d sat down in front of his new TV and turned it on that he’d been rewarded. A green light had blinked on the inside of the left frame and words scrolled across the lens. ‘Data screen next. Touch remote to screen. Secure line for fifteen minutes. Will scramble all monitors.’
Alric had been relieved. Eron had a plan. He had taken the second pair of glasses to the lab and made them a part of his routine whenever he read or worked on the computer for long periods of time. To anyone else, he was just a guy who had gotten glasses because he needed them.
The data screen had been delivered days later.
Following Eron’s instructions, he’d settled into his chair with the screen, turned on the tv, and let the remote fall from his hand into his lap so that it settled against the device.
A green circle had appeared in the upper left corner of the television and in his glasses, along with a countdown. Words had taken over the television screen while Eron communicated that all messages were encrypted and routed anonymously. No communications could be intercepted or traced back to either of them. Then, ‘how can I help?’
Alric had explained the vials he needed to transport and his wish to move money without arousing suspicion.
Eron had told him to await further instruction and explained if he was unavailable during transmissions that messages would still be received and he would respond when he could.
Since then, Alric had used Eron to move countless vials and knew that many of the ‘bills’ he now paid were hopefully finding homes in other bank accounts he could access later.
He had no choice but to trust Eron, and hope that his formulas and money were really being taken care of. Sometimes, he even allowed himself to consider the faceless man a friend.
Alric ate dinner, cleaned up, then sent his request for the new vials he had collected. Eron would send guidance for a drop off once the details were in place. Somewhere along the way, the vials would be passed on to someone Eron trusted, and off they would go.
Tired, Alric clicked everything off and went to his room. It was the place Alric needed the most secrecy, but it had also been the place he knew they would watch. He knew where all the cameras were and where the blind spots in the room were, thanks to Eron.
The torso had been a brilliant idea, and Alric had grown his hair long to help hide the faint line that remained at his neck. He wore collared button-up shirts and ties to further aid his secret.
Keeping secrets had already been commonplace for Alric, well before Xis. The night of his twelfth birthday life had handed him his first one.
After a fight with a couple of the boys at the orphanage, Alric had retreated to an abandoned shed on the back of an overgrown property that bordered his temporary dwelling place. The owner never seemed to use it and none of the other kids knew about it, so it was where he had often gone to seek refuge.
With a black eye and bruised ribs, he had settled into the musty structure and cried. Birthdays were not things orphans celebrated, and often were painful reminders that no one cared. Because of that, they were opportunities to taunt others and remind them that they were unwanted. The same cycle had turned on Alric that day.
In the shed, Alric had turned to God to ease his pain. His knowledge of God then had been small; his need for Him fierce. A priest had visited the orphanage and told them all about a God who loved all, who had a plan for each of them. Alric’s heart had yearned when the priest had promised that God was there every second and willing to listen, even if He was invisible.
He had given his heart to God from his seat when the priest had asked for those who wished for a relationship with an all-powerful Creator to step forward. No one had risen. But inside of Alric, his spirit had, faith flaring to life as he had accepted the truth of such a being.
Alric had fought often after to hold onto that small spark of faith.
That night, he had only God to talk to. He’d fallen asleep with tears dried on his cheeks, his eye throbbing, and pleas for something better on his lips.
God had answered, and challenged his small faith in an unforgettable way. Painfully, five bones had grown on his back, rising up beneath his skin. Two just below his shoulder blades, two more near the bottom of his back that mirrored the top two. And between the two sets, one long bone spanned across the center of his back.
With the painful growth, he had experienced his first vision. Images of five strangers running from shadowy dark figures. Of himself fleeing, fear wracking his body with the pain. Of a child standing and waiting.
For hours he had writhed, afraid for the faces he saw and the desperation and despair that emanated from them. It hadn’t been until dawn had begun to filter into the shed and the pain had lessened that he had realized that those he saw ran toward each other. Toward the child who waited.
Exhausted, numb, caught in a state he still could not describe, he had watched as he and the others found each other, light sparking off them and destroying the shadowy figures that had pursued them.
United, wings had risen from each of their backs. The world around them had exploded into nothing, until only the seven of them had remained. They had raised their arms toward heaven. Light had come down to swallow everything.
Trumpets had sounded, had rang in his ears. Shaking with purpose, fear, awe, and confusion, Alric had known then that his life would never be the same.
Climbing into the shower, Alric waited for the water to loosen the gel of the torso so that he could slide it off. He ran his hands over the bones on his back with his fingers, exploring the familiar feel of the ridges, remembering their arrival as he always did. He had thought after that night that God had given him the bones as proof that He existed.
It was an impossible secret he had suddenly had to keep in an orphanage full of others. Being different was not something anyone wanted in such an environment. He had been smart enough to know that what God had given as a gift would cause him torment from his peers.
Hours later, he had a plan. A trip to a store to steal thread and needles, and then hours of clumsy stitches had resulted in a shirt padded from the inside, using part of an old blanket in the shed. His jacket over that had made the ridges indiscernible.
The next part of his plan had been harder. Used to hiding emotion, he had gone to the police and pretended to have an emotional breakdown, citing excessive verbal and emotional abuse in the orphanage and begging to be removed. He had been shocked when it had worked, and he had been taken to a foster home with only six other kids.
He’d had a roommate, but far more troubled than he, the other boy had left him alone and enabled him to hide in the shadows and keep his secret.
Being a foster kid meant he was mostly ignored as long as he didn’t cause trouble, so his padded shirts had been enough.
As a young adult, he’d wanted something that allowed him the freedom to not be as careful about the stance of his body. Something more comfortab
le and breathable.
His intelligence had earned him a scholarship to college and given him access to areas and instruments previously unavailable. Experimentation had finally resulted in the torso he still wore; a somewhat stretchy skin-like material covered gel, that filled in the gaps between his bones and added weight to his stomach. Even without his shirt, as long as no one was up close, he would just look somewhat overweight.
The waistline of his pants and the neckline of his shirt hid the thin section that overlapped his skin and most people would assume it was just a wrinkle.
He showered every night, hidden from the cameras, to give his skin some time to breathe and the contraption a thorough cleaning. It was unfortunate that he needed to don it again before dressing for bed, but he was used to it, as it had become routine.
“What’s the point?” Alric muttered as he soaped up. He’d voiced the same question a thousand times since the bones had grown. Why had God wanted him to believe He existed so strongly that he carried pointless bones around that made his life more difficult?
His life was dangerous, but boring. His drop offs for the vials were the most exciting part of his life.
Lying in bed, Alric went over and over the instructions Eron had sent for this one, wanting to be sure he remembered every detail. He’d watched part of a recorded sports game that he cared nothing about so he could check for an answer. This one had been quick.
He was restless. After the vitamin surge, he had nothing. No more ideas to offer that he felt would intrigue Afion.
On the way out of the lab, he had overheard a couple of technicians talking about Afion ordering troops into Mongolia. Alric didn’t pay much attention to the news, so he had no idea what was happening outside of his own life. Not really.
Moving troops didn’t seem to be a good thing. From what little he knew, it seemed like every time a country attempted to take over another, America always got involved and a war ensued.
Disturbed, Alric rolled. Was Afion pushing so hard because he was carrying out some strategy that would create a need? Supply and demand? Closing his eyes, Alric knew Afion was always working some strategy. Some sinister plot. An objective.
Seal One Page 3
