by Tara Ellis
We all agree and take the new printed program from him as he walks around the table. Looking mine over, I note that my range time has been halved, my runtime has been erased, and my whole day is two hours longer. Gritting my teeth, I try not to get too depressed about it.
“There have been new reports of more advanced mobilization,” Zane continues, going over to the whiteboard and drawing out a rough map of the surrounding area. “We managed to establish a stable channel with the other two bases here in the States, as well as one in Canada and the UK. We have had intermittent messages intercepted from Mexico, Russia, Europe, and even Japan. We fully expect Jim and his team to continue to improve upon this.”
Jim nervously clears his throat, still having a hard time being put on the spot. “Yes, sir. We actually made some more progress this morning with Europe, and finalized the count on civilians at all of the established bases here and in Canada.”
“Well?” Zane presses when Jim pauses.
“It’s not as much as we had hoped, but there’s another fifteen hundred safe between the other two US camps and nearly double that much in Canada. Europe is still compiling numbers but we expect it to be about the same.”
“That’s not much of an army,” Seth says somberly. “The Mudameere alone will nearly match that, not even counting the millions of Shiners they’ll have doing their dirty work for them.”
“We realize that,” Zane says with a bit of an edge. General’s James and Costas have been sitting quietly against the wall, but whisper quietly to each other now, before James stands.
“Sir would you like me to bring them up to speed on our latest Mudameere Intel?” he asks the senator, as he steps up to table. After getting a nod of approval, Lt. General James turns first to Seth. “The names you provided were very helpful. While both men are no longer on base, we were able to gather valuable information from their gear and belongings they left behind. Apparently, they bugged out in a hurry. One of their contacts at our sister base in North Dakota was still in a key position and likely feeding, or at least gathering, Intel. He’s been taken care of.”
Nobody asks just what that means, but I imagine he is in a similar room to the one here holding the Shiners, far underground. “What about the Mudameere?” I ask. “Has it been confirmed that they’ve resurfaced?”
“Affirmative,” he says curtly, walking over to the whiteboard. Picking up a red marker, he begins to aggressively draw big red check marks next to several of the towns already listed. “We have no further doubt now that we’ve entered the next phase. While the antiviral meds have protected thousands of lives, it’s likely that soon, they won’t be of any more use.”
“Which is another reason why your schedules have been yet again modified,” Zane interrupts. “Yes, we are heavily outnumbered, but this fight isn’t going to be about that. Like I said before; it’s strategic. Our goal, the only attainable one we have, is to delay a complete take-over and the mining until a cure can be found and a way to rebel against RA is solidified.”
“If you manage to create a cure, that alone will be your rebellion,” Benuk adds. “RA’s whole premise rests on his claim that humans are not intelligent, sentient beings. If you counter his plague and prove to his followers, the Nephilim, that he can’t control you, then he will have no other choice than to let you be.”
“We have to find Professor Hassan,” Chris says. “He’s the key to finding a cure.”
“He’ll be buried deep,” Seth states. “The only way we’ll ever get close enough, if you can even locate him, is if Alex can manage to get us past the Shiners.”
“It might take time, but we’ll find him,” Costas says with conviction. “Thanks to the information Seth has given us on some of the cells, we’ve already started following a few trails that may pan out.”
“When the time comes, I’m going to need you guys to be ready,” Zane says to all of us, but he’s looking at me.
Almost everyone in the room shouts out their support in response, obviously eager to fight back. Everyone except Mom and Seth. She’s looking at Jake and me with fear, but also with an understanding that no one can avoid what’s happening.
Seth is just leaning back in his seat, his demeanor guarded. Meeting my gaze, he doesn’t look away, and although I share my other friends’ enthusiasm, I can’t help but think of my time now devoted to Level Zero.
TWENTY ONE
I’m never going to get used to this. Even though I can see in the dark, the long dim hallway leading to what is quickly becoming my torture chamber is starting to haunt my nightmares.
The first time I went back, two weeks ago, I experienced the same low buzzing sensation that happened that night at the Mudameere facility. I could get right up next to the glass and stare those Shiners in their glowing eyes without it getting any worse. But that changed rapidly, and as hard as it is for me to believe, it’s paralleled the growth of my hair.
After the first week, it began growing faster, and soon I couldn’t get very far past the entry into the big room without my head starting to fill with the sensations of the Shiners getting inside my head. Today marks the second week of my haircut. This morning in our class on combat tactics, I sat next to Chris and we both noticed a familiar feeling. I was relieved by its return because it’s so important, but I could tell Chris was unnerved. I don’t blame him.
Senator Zane was thrilled to hear the news and to my dismay, rewarded me this afternoon with extended time down here in my dungeon. So here I am, a half-hour earlier than is the norm and I’m sure all of my ‘friends’ will be happy to see me. It might be a little sick, but I’ve given them names. Not all of them, but there are a few that seem to be more interested in me than others. There are eleven Shiners all together: seven men, three women, and one girl about my age.
Two of the men I call Fred and Frank. They used to be soldiers at this base, and are the most attentive of the group. I don’t want to know their real names. The only woman that pays me any attention is a mean old goat with a big mole above her lip. I call her Matilda. While the other eight just stand there and attempt to bore their way into my brain, these other three try to engage me.
They can talk, of course. Sometimes they will chat quietly amongst themselves but I noticed before, when Mom was a Shiner, that talking was somehow seen as a waste of time. They’re extremely intelligent and know why they’re here and what I’m trying to do. They aren’t about to help me. The glass is soundproof anyway, and Zane has opted to leave the intercom off. He doesn’t want them to manipulate me at all. He feels they would just try to distract me in order to gain an upper hand telepathically. While I agree with him, it sucks having to sit in a room for two hours with the only sounds being my own voice and the noise in my head.
There are several guards stationed in here with me but they must also be under strict orders not to engage me. No distractions, nothing that could tip the scales in the Shiners’ favor and make me collapse under their weight. I have no doubt that the soldiers will come to my aid and pull me out of the room at the first sign of trouble.
Baxter whimpers as we approach the door that leads to the holding area. I reach out to pet him, glad to have his company. The first few days, either Kyle or Nate came down with me. But by the fourth day, things started to get more challenging, and it became obvious that having them here made it much harder for me to concentrate. Their own training has been radically increased now too, to the point where they don’t have the time to escort me.
Baxter, however, was able to clear his schedule. It was Seth’s idea, actually. Mom’s been worried about me spending even more time down here, and she wanted to come with me. Zane was trying to explain to her why I needed to be alone when Seth interrupted and said I should just “take the dog.” No one had a reasonable argument against it, and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.
Taking a deep breath, I try to focus and clear my mind. Clasping my hands behind my ponytail, I stretch to either side in preparatio
n, and hop up and down a couple of times, like I’m about to run a race. Baxter is staring at me patiently, his head tilted to one side.
“What? I need to loosen up. It’s intense in there.” Chuffing at me, he raises his ears attentively and then sits down. I’d like to spend some more time talking with him, but I can already feel them on the other side of the door, which is something new. Pushing back the rising anxiety, I practice the ‘bubble’ imagery that Jake helped me come up with.
When they start to try to push their way in, like I can feel them doing now, it reminds me of some horror show: that cliché scene where the hands are digging up out of the graves, clawing at some poor, hapless person’s heels. Only it’s my consciousness, my soul that they’re thirsting for.
But I’m learning.
The barrier, or bubble, was my first real breakthrough. Jacob suggested it one night when I was describing what it’s like in here. He reminded me that more than one of his favorite video games has an option where you can activate a force field to protect yourself. I should remember; I played them enough with him. So when I first start to feel the pressure, I imagine a bubble of psychic energy surrounding me. It’s starting to work.
I can still hear them right now, a humming like thousands of voices talking all at once at a distance. But it’s muffled. The next phase, once I’ve mastered protecting myself, will be to turn it around, to step on those imaginary hands and start doing some digging of my own. Senator Zane seems convinced that I’ll be able to do it. I’m not so sure.
Just in the past two weeks, there’s been growing movement of Shiners, and increased Mudameere involvement. Benuk and Seth both agree that while the top leaders are likely still underground, a shift is already in progress. Once they do expose themselves, things are going to heat up. An all-out war seems inevitable.
There’s been further confirmation that the virus has spread worldwide. But in spite of the threat, there are still clear lines of political division, as well as distrust. Canada, Mexico, the UK, most of Europe, and Australia are all on-board with working together, along with a few other smaller countries. However, Russia, Korea, China, most Middle East countries, and even Japan are not communicating with us. It’s unknown if this is intentional for all of them, but Korea and China have made it clear they won’t align with anyone.
RA’s ship has been spotted several times now in various regions, and at least in one instance, there was confirmed Shiner and Mudameere mobilization shortly after the sightings. It’s believed that they are establishing mining areas, so these locations will soon become our targets.
Pausing, my hand hovers over the doorknob. I can’t go in there thinking about this stuff. Forcing it back, I imagine the gorgeous lakes I saw last month: clear, cool water, and deep blue skies. Bald eagles circled overhead, and wild lavender that grew by the shores surrounded me with a warm, soothing scent.
In the right state of mind now, I enter the room and briefly acknowledge the uniformed men leaning against the walls. They are clearly bored but stand to attention when they see me. I recognize their discomfort in the looks they exchange. I know I freak them out, maybe even more so than the Shiners. But the Shiners are a known threat. Me…well, no one really knows for sure just what I am.
The pressure increases dramatically, and I look up to see Matilda moving forward, her eyes shining more intensely than the others. She stops with her nose a couple of inches away from the glass. Chastising myself, I re-focus. Quiet, peaceful lake...water lapping against the rocky shore…a strong, impenetrable bubble surrounding me.
As I feel her attempt pushed back more easily than I expected, her nostrils flare slightly and she clenches her jaw. Frank and Fred join her, one standing to either side. While the rest of the Shiners remain farther back, they have all turned toward me, attentive…expectant. For what, I haven’t figured out yet. I’m going to talk with Zane about it tomorrow. Why not just let me ask them? So what if they end up manipulating me a little? I’ll recover, and just keep going. But what if they answer? I think it’s just stupid not to at least try.
The noise swells again as my concentration falters, and Baxter whines loudly. Looking at him, I’m surprised at his obvious discomfort. He’s sitting next to me, shaking, and staring back and forth between my three companions and me. They’re gathered at the glass a few feet away from us. Can he sense them, too?
Kneeling down, I reach out to wrap my arms around his neck and place my forehead against his in a familiar gesture that we haven’t done in a long time. Baxter has been my rock for years now, and I feel a twinge of guilt at not having spent much time with him recently. But my friend doesn’t hold grudges, and the one characteristic he shares with other dogs is his unconditional love.
His touch is therapeutic, but as I lean against him, the feeling of peace intensifies into a coalescing wave of energy that seems to emanate from the center of my body. Instead of pulling away, I concentrate on it…embrace it. Then I refocus it out, much like the bubble, and the results are immediate.
I can almost see the power sweep through the room, and while the guards are oblivious, the Shiners reel from it. Fred and Frank stumble back from the glass. Looking at each other in confusion, they gather with the others that are suddenly talking urgently.
But not Matilda. Turning to face her, I stay on my knees with one arm draped around Baxter. While she took a few steps back, she’s still holding her ground. However, when I meet her gaze, I’m stunned at what I see. Her usual smug, arrogant expression has been replaced with something I never expected from her: respect.
TWENTY TWO
I’m beginning to like the dark. It surrounds me, blanketing me in a soft, protective embrace that hides me from the suspicious stares I have to endure during the day.
I started this new routine, of running at night, last week. I have found that I only need about five hours of sleep, and the exercise helps to silence my loud and jumbled thoughts. So after everyone has gone to bed and the solar lights have been turned off to conserve what little energy we have, I quietly slip outside and find my escape.
I created a route that takes me out past our training grounds, and along the fence line for a couple of miles and then back again. I ran into a watchman the first night and after a brief, intense moment, I have since been left alone. I figure it’s not quite four miles round trip, and I normally sprint it once and then jog two more laps. It takes me less than an hour, but it’s enough to make me feel like I got a good workout, and I usually fall right to sleep afterward.
Tonight is different. I have already torn through it twice and haven’t slowed down yet. The breakthrough this afternoon, while exciting, is also terrifying. The guards caught onto the change immediately and notified Zane. There was soon a crowd gathered behind me, murmuring and taking notes. If I felt like a test-tube subject before, that was nothing compared to what I know is coming. Appointments with Dr. Paul are already scheduled daily for the rest of the week. These include Baxter. In addition, I have two sessions with the base shrink, extra rounds with all of my instructors, and even more time with my Shiner friends.
I compel my legs to pump harder, wanting to feel the burn. Rounding the pole that marks my turning point, I close my eyes and let the cool air wash over me. I know this trail well enough now that I trust my feet will find an even surface. After several seconds, I open my eyes again and discover I’ve covered a greater distance than I thought.
My body works like a well-oiled machine, never missing a beat. I’m aware of every muscle and connective tissue as they fire off rapid signals to my brain, and respond to my thoughts before I even realize I have given the command. On an impulse, I veer away from the edge of the fence and enter an obstacle-training course, leaping over several barricades with ease. Lunging for the rope wall, I land halfway up its vertical surface and latch onto the knotted cord. Pulling myself hand-over-hand, I scale it in seconds and vault over the top, gracefully landing on the other side like a cat.
Plunging ahea
d, I barrel roll under the next station and then stomach crawl below a field of barbed wire. Slithering out the other side, I’m grinning now as I approach a huge rope net. It appears easy to climb, but that is misleading. Most of my friends struggle with this section of the course, even Chris, Seth, and Benuk. Strength doesn’t necessarily get you through this one, but agility does. Attacking it with enthusiasm, I imagine I must look like a giant spider from a distance, scaling the webbing with superhuman ease and speed.
Rolling down the other side, I never break stride, pushing myself even faster as I find my way back to the trail I’ve worn into the dirt. Sweat is starting to bead on my forehead, and my breath has become ragged, signs of exhaustion that I don’t normally feel. But it isn’t enough. Faster…I need to go faster.
“What are you running from, Alex?”
The voice reaching out of the darkness is such a surprise that I nearly trip over my own feet. Cursing under my breath, I catch myself before falling and turn angrily toward Seth. The thin moonlight easily reveals his form to me as he stands over by the wrestling mats. Even without the moon, I should have seen him before he ever said anything. My mood is quickly clouded as I realize I’m still not the soldier I need to be.
Leaning forward with my hands on my thighs, I concentrate on getting both my breathing and my emotions under control before answering. “What are you doing out here?”
“Uh-uh,” he responds, walking toward me. “Doesn’t work that way. I asked you first.”