The Complete Atlantis Series, Books 1 - 5: Ascendant Saga

by Ellis, Brandon

  “WNN?”

  “Yes, they seem to have more information than the rest. I guess you gave them a lot more than you gave any of us.”

  Drew nodded and moved to the TV. He clicked it on. Some of the satellite images he leaked was pictured on the tube. Channel after channel showed the same images; telling the same story. His story. He’d managed to get it out there. He had two whole minutes of relief, cut short when he noticed a pattern. The networks only aired pictures he snail-mailed out. The additional data he’d emailed was left out. That meant his email was compromised. The GSA probably had tabs on him. Those bastards had blocked his messages. The whole story wasn’t out there.

  He walked back over to the window, pushing the curtain slightly away, peeking outside. Maybe the gal who’d checked him in ratted on him. Or, maybe the hostess at the restaurant. He shrugged. Most likely, they didn’t even remember what he looked like.

  “What do you think?” He surveyed the road. A woman walked her dog by a stop sign. No black SUV’s, like he’d seen in the movies. “Of the material. Explosive, right?”

  “You sound nervous. Are you okay?”

  “Not really. I spent last night and this morning running from the military.”

  “Then you need to get on my show, ASAP, Drew. The more the world knows, the less leverage the military and the GSA have on you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Can you get me onto your show tonight?”

  A pause. He heard Robert shuffling through papers. “I can fit you in my first hour slot, though you’ll be at the tail end of that hour.”

  “I’ll take anything.”

  “It’s all over the news. The people need to know the truth. I’m happy to have you on.”

  “I only know snippets of truth, Robert.”

  “But this is your story. Tell us what you can.”

  “I have more...a lot more.”

  “Send it over.”

  “How? My email has been hacked. My phone is probably being...” Drew looked at his phone. Newbie mistake 3000. He used his own phone. He gave them the perfect way to find him. “I gotta go. I’ll call just before the interview. I don’t want to give them a chance to track me. Right now, I have to go somewhere.”

  “Thanks, Drew. I’ll speak with you tonight.”

  Drew hung up. He had to find a library, create a new email account, and upload his pictures. He’d send out another glob of emails, just as soon as he could. This time, no one would have his new email address, especially Colonel Slade Roberson or anyone else in the GSA. This needed to go primetime, all of it. His face would need to be everywhere. This story had to explode worldwide.

  Sending data to every outlet he had a single connection with had worked once. It would work again. The networks were desperate for ratings and would do anything to get and keep their edge. A moment of pleasure weaseled to Drew’s mind, imagining Hobb’s face when the guy realized he had no choice but to air the photographs. The delight was short lived. Drew was still in grave danger. He had to break the rest of the story; at least the rest of what he knew.

  But first, his phone. Could they trace his phone while turned off? He couldn’t just throw it away, because everything he needed to expose Slade and GSA sat in his photo library. He couldn’t take out his battery either. His phone didn’t allow it, unless he wanted to screw it up and make it unusable.

  He had to make sure “AnimationSpoof” malware, a malware program from some asshole Chinese hackers, wasn’t on his phone. If attached, shutting off his phone would do nothing. AnimationSpoof created an authentic shutdown animation, making his phone seem as if it was shutdown and turned off. It couldn’t be further from the truth and would still be on and traceable.

  Pressing his phone’s security icon, he tapped on third party site applications and deleted everything he could find, including Samarai’s Destiny, the greatest game east of the Mississippi. He didn’t want to take the chance.

  He ran a security prompt on AnimationSpoof, just in case it got past third party software. It hadn’t. He was safe and shut off his phone. He couldn’t be traced. Not while his phone was off. Crap. Maybe they could? He’d have to hope for the best.

  He stood, ready to find a library. Then froze. The TV displayed satellite image after satellite image, the newscasters trying to figure out how pyramids could get on a Jupiter moon, along with jets and helicopter pads. They questioned if this was something alien or a secret government program no one knew about.

  Drew laughed. This would be the news story of the century and it had his name written all over it.

  32

  June 5th ~ Underfoot Black, Grenada

  Slade crossed his arms in front of a computer screen. A picture of a brain, highlighted in yellows, greens, blues, and reds displayed on the monitor. “What the hell am I looking at, Donny?”

  Donny gestured toward Jaxx. The guy was on the other side of a large window in a dimly lit room, held up by ropes that extended from the wall and wrapped around his wrists. He wore a helmet with wires and nodes. Unlike every other session Slade witnessed, Jaxx stood. But not still, and neither slumped nor defeated. This time, tall and erect, shifting from one foot to the other.

  Donny tapped the computer screen. “Imaged here is Jaxx’s brain.”

  Slade flicked his wrist at Jaxx. “Why do you insist on making Jaxx stand?”

  “We don’t. It’s some type of standing meditation. Most people need to sit down and actively meditate. Jaxx, on the other hand, meditates while he’s unconscious. We hadn’t observed this in him before he had been shot, but since then, we can’t get him to lie down. We suspect this is a way his brain and central nervous system heals the best, fully extended and stimulated, which is why he’s moving back and forth.”

  Slade pursed his lips. “So, what is so unique about Jaxx?”

  “Remember the documents that one of our operatives acquired from SSP, before their cover was blown?”

  Slade nodded. “Get to the point, Donny.”

  “Well, one of the documents was written by a doctor. They were acutely aware that Jaxx had an active, uncalcified pineal gland. In fact, it had grown from pea size, which is the normal size, to the size of an almond.”

  Slade shrugged. “So?”

  Donny glared at Slade, who apparently didn’t get the gist of this discovery. “This explains his telekinesis and his psychic awareness. I don’t think he has figured out how to use it as well as Rivkah, but a woman is different, more powerful in emotional strength than a man—”

  Slade clapped his hands together, snapping Donny to attention. “Donny, I just want to know about Jaxx right now. Get me there or I’m leaving. I have a shit-ton of things to do before the launch.”

  Donny swallowed. “Okay, do you see the rest of his brain? It’s off the charts. Billions of synapses are firing. Can you imagine what it would be like if he was actually awake?”

  Slade couldn’t have cared less. “No.”

  “This explains his ability to translate glyphs so quickly and precisely. And you know when we put him under in a hypnotherapy session?” Donny’s eyes brightened. “It is probably what allowed him to intuit enemy starfighter presence and movement before the enemy even moved. It explains how he could hit targets so well and fling space debris at will.”

  “Huh. Well, good job.” Slade didn’t know if Donny wanted a slap on the back or a gold medal. He gave him a slap on the back.

  “No, no. You don’t get it. Do you know how many people have a pineal gland that is activated and has grown like Jaxx’s?”

  Slade grabbed Donny by the shirt and pulled him in. “I don’t have time for twenty questions. Just give me the facts.”

  Donny put his hands up. “Okay. I’m sorry. Now, I have only witnessed one other person with this brain activity. Rivkah Ravenwood. And, that’s it. We are experiencing something powerful, here, Slade. This is a jump in the human genome. It’s a DNA activation that science hasn’t seen before, at least
not to my knowledge. I’m going to be doing more research, but I think what I’m seeing here is the beginning of some type of superhuman.” He back peddled. “Don’t get me wrong, Rivkah and Jaxx are far from superhuman, but they’re on their way. If any more DNA sequences open up in their bodies, then look out. The sky is the limit.”

  “How did they get like this?”

  “We don’t know. But, I’m calling it twist DNA, because that’s exactly how we see the signals traveling from the DNA into the pineal gland on both Rivkah and Jaxx.”

  Slade found a chair and sat. He figured he’d be in here for a while, listening to science talk. He watched Jaxx shift back and forth.

  Donny continued, “Science has discovered genome DNA that does not encode proteins. They call it junk DNA. What I’m finding here is that it’s not junk at all. Not all non-protein-coding DNA is useless.” Donny’s eyes beamed as if he unraveled the greatest mystery in the Universe. “So, I’m calling it as I see it. Twist DNA.” He smiled. “You see, twist DNA interacts with the surrounding genomic environment by providing important signals to genes. Once every twist DNA is expressed, or unlocked, then we will encounter a completely different type of human. This type of human would have activated areas in the brain that were once dormant, and the areas that were not dormant would become more excited, more in-tune to the body and everything around it. Diseases wouldn’t harm the body. Aging would be something of the past. And telepathic communication would be the norm. In regards to Rivkah Ravenwood and Kaden Jaxx, a portion of their twist DNA has been unlocked, turning on their pineal gland. As you have undoubtedly seen, a human with open pineal gland can defy the laws of gravity.”

  “Why is Jaxx such a dweeb, when he’s not under hypnosis, if he’s this super-human?”

  Donny shrugged. “My guess is he did something the Secret Space Program wasn’t equipped to deal with and they shut him down and wiped his memory. Without those memories, his twist DNA is just sitting there, waiting for him to fire back up.”

  “Sounds a bit far-fetched to me.”

  “Yup, but so does moving things with your mind and we’ve both seen that in real time.”

  A loud wa-bam jerked them both out of their seats. They threw up their arms to protect themselves. Jaxx lifted another chair on the far side of the room and shot it toward the glass.

  Wa-bam.

  The crack in the glass grew and the chair landed upright, then slid back to the position it had been a second earlier.

  “His eyes,” said Slade.

  Jaxx’s eyelids were open, his eyes rolled back to reveal only the whites. He smiled, then closed his eyes and hung his head, shifting on his feet again.

  33

  June 6th ~ Portland, Oregon

  Nearing 10:30 PM and Drew took a walk down the streets, waiting to turn his phone on. He didn’t want his motel location compromised and perhaps aimlessly walking the sidewalks might confuse anyone tracking him—if he was still able to be tracked.

  Earlier in the day, he had spent hours at the library. He created a new email address and sent all the pictures he took of the underground stash of planes, trains, and dune buggies to as many contacts as he had, using the subject: This is Drew Avera, Vital Information Enclosed.

  With his name plastered all over the news, crediting him with securing the Callisto satellite images, this subject line would get many eyes, especially by those contacts that might look over an email they were unfamiliar with. At the library, he also had time to think. There were structures on Callisto. There were space-ready craft in an underground bunker. This wasn’t your usual “unmanned mission.” This was something else.

  He turned on his phone. Within seconds, it rang. He held the phone to his ear as he continued to walk. “Hi, Robert.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “The commercial break is ending, so keep your ear to the phone. We’ll be starting in a few seconds.”

  Drew passed a stranger, wondering if she had any weed. He usually conducted interviews a little more relaxed.

  Robert continued, beginning his next segment, “We have a special guest on tonight. One that I scheduled this morning, and boy, will this blow your socks off. Drew Avera has been on our show once before. He’s one of the youngest reporters ever to work for World News Network or otherwise known as WNN. By now, you’ve all heard of him. He is the one who leaked the satellite images of the structures on the Jupiter moon, Callisto, along with outing a manned mission to that moon to investigate those structures. Yes, he’s everywhere, but he’s with us tonight, being interviewed for the first time since this story broke. A story that’s consuming our entire nation. He graduated from Columbia University with a Masters in Journalism. He’s well known for documentaries on the JFK Assassination called JFK and the Unknown Files, on the coup attempt in 1933 titled Smedley Butler, the Unsung FDR Savior, and his reports on Alzheimer's, the FDA, and many other amazing news programs. But my guess is this story is going to make Drew Avera a household name. Today he has given us a half hour of his time. Drew, welcome to the show. How are you?”

  Drew gnawed one of his fingernails. “I’m alright. I’m a little shaken up over all of this. I didn’t expect I’d 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 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.”

  “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’ve 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 come 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, beaming a flashlight in his direction. The thick bush hid him well
. The SUV hooked a left on another street.

  “I took pictures of a gigantic ship that I think they’re 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're looking for me. I’m not safe here.”

  “Okay, I understand,” Robert replied. “Thank you, Drew. You’re 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 pointed a gun and aimed it at Drew’s forehead.

  34

  June 6th ~ 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 crisscrossed 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 was 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.