by Black, Chuck
“Tactical scan—move forward.” Drew used all three mirrors on the car first, then reached to the backseat to grab his bag and get a complete scan of the front area of their home.
Clear.
His senses were in hyper mode, and he knew he was going to pay for it with a massive headache. He opened his car door and stood up, maintaining a casual demeanor as his senses caught every movement, sound, and smell within a hundred yards. It was like watching a movie at half speed.
His enhanced observation abilities restored his confidence and determination to own this moment and his reaction to it. He walked toward his home while looking at reflections off his mother’s minivan and the house windows. He felt the crunch of gravel beneath his feet, the radiant sun on his arms and neck, and the molecules of air being pushed aside as he walked. Ants, birds, grass, squirrel, distant car, exhaust fumes, evergreen, train horn—no threat. Drew entered his home and turned to shut the door, half expecting to see one of the invaders walk right through it, but nothing happened.
“Drew … you’re up early.” His mother poked her head out from the kitchen. “You look beat. Are you okay?” She came to check his forehead.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just had a tough workout.”
He felt the beginning of the headache and knew the crash was coming.
“Want some breakfast?” she asked. “I can whip up some pancakes.”
Drew needed food and ibuprofen fast.
“That’s okay. Got any leftover egg bake?”
“Sure.” She came closer to study him. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Yep, just starving and tired.” Drew shot her a quick smile so she would leave.
Drew reviewed what had just happened at the grocery store, trying to remember every detail. Suddenly his confidence shattered as he realized that, in spite of his hypersenses, the invaders hadn’t made a single sound that Drew could hear. Everything they did happened in absolute silence. Of his five senses, only one could transcend into their dimension of existence: his eyes. It made sense, though. The LASOK was designed to see into the invaders’ dimension, nothing else. But sight alone was not enough to detect the approach of such an enemy. And why, if they weren’t of any use to him in this area, were his other senses heightened? What did they accomplish except to bring on these painful headaches?
Drew was having a hard time thinking or focusing. This headache was getting bad. He went to the kitchen to grab the plate out of the microwave and wolf down the egg bake, followed by three ibuprofen tablets with some water. Then he retreated to the dark of his room, hoping that the pain wouldn’t last all day. He focused on relaxing his body and then the muscles in his eyes.
It helped.
But his mind wouldn’t stop buzzing … Was he going crazy? He’d seen movies of people, some of them very famous and intelligent, who experienced hallucinations. How real were they to those people? Drew had never been so unnerved or scared in his life. If he wasn’t crazy, then these invaders were real. And if they were invisible to humans, how extensive was their power? Could they read his thoughts … or perhaps even control them?
He closed his eyes …
If only he could close out the fear as well.
13
BETRAYED!
Over the next couple of weeks, Drew reevaluated everything—his knowledge of the invaders, their purpose, his abilities and vulnerabilities … everything. It occupied his thoughts every minute of every day. He came to two conclusions. First, now that he could see them, he’d be able to speak of them in secret and know that they hadn’t heard the conversation. Some semblance of secrecy was at least possible. Second, Ben was the key to formulating a plan to counter the invaders.
Drew had to find Ben.
He tried to act as normal as possible, but his mother noticed that something was up. When she tried to talk to him, he attributed any oddities she might have seen in his behavior to his uncertainty about his future, emphasizing a desire to return to college and pick up where he left off. Drew was quite certain she didn’t buy it, so he tried all the more to act as normal as possible, even though he was acutely aware of a silent global invasion of aliens probably trying to take over the human race.
Before long, Jake contacted Drew to arrange a short weekender trip to the Flint Hills, and Drew knew his mother had asked Jake to do it. Still, it would be good to get away.
Jake took a Friday off, and they arrived in the Flint Hills by three in the afternoon. Drew filled his lungs with the fresh air and felt some of his burden lift. He scanned the area, but there was no sight of the invaders. Maybe the wilderness offered a measure of safety as opposed to being in close proximity to the city. Once camp was set, Drew had an idea.
“Hey, Jake. How about we forget survival training and go straight to combat?”
“Okay. What’re you looking for?”
“Hand to hand.”
“With or without weapons?”
“Knife for you, nothing for me.”
“You’re feeling pretty confident for a man who’s just got his eyes back,” Jake said with a smile.
“It’s been a while. I need to come back hard.”
Jake pulled his MK3 Navy combat knife out of its sheath and stuck it in a nearby tree; then he dug in his bag and replaced it with a dull-bladed training knife. He inked the cutting edge.
“Sure you’re ready for this?”
Drew just nodded, and Jake came at him less than a second later. Drew hadn’t learned to control his hypersenses and reactions yet. There were times it felt like they were controlling him. He reacted with the speed of a cat, retreating to a safe distance from the knife and allowing the initial attack to complete its motion.
Clear … control … counter …
Jake’s training on weapons defense came flooding back. Drew initiated his first aikido move, jamming Jake’s knife arm and controlling his elbow. He rotated his hips ninety degrees to Jake and performed a wrist throw, which put Jake on the ground. He locked his wrist and took the knife. It was over in less than three seconds. Drew checked his hands and arms—no ink.
He gave Jake a lift up. “You don’t have to play dumb. I’m a big boy now.”
Jake looked rather stunned. He didn’t respond to the comment; he just came again. And the end result was the same, except Jake ended up with a long ink mark across his chest. Drew helped him up again.
“Where have you been practicing and with whom?” Jake rubbed his arm.
That’s when it hit Drew. Jake had given him his best. Drew felt a little bad for having bested him so soundly.
“I … um … haven’t been. You’re it.”
“Well, I recognize the moves, but”—Jake shook his head—“never seem ’em used quite like that.”
Drew knelt down and wiped the ink off the blade, then flipped it around and handed it to Jake. “Sorry.”
“Are you kidding?” Jake took the knife. “I couldn’t be more proud. The day the student beats the instructor is a day to celebrate.” Jake put an arm on Drew’s shoulder. “It’s the goal. Well done.”
They decided to do some tactical target shooting. Drew loved his Springfield .40-caliber XDM—the perfect balance between versatility and power. Sixteen rounds in the magazine plus one in the chamber, smaller than a .45 but with as much impact. Drew couldn’t convince himself to buy anything else.
Jake’s choice was always the M45 Colt 1911. “The stopping power of .45 is just too important,” he told Drew, but it didn’t change his mind.
Drew hadn’t shot since last summer, when he and Jake took their last trip. He missed shooting and was excited for the practice he would get today. He leveled his XDM at the target, took a breath, released half, and gently squeezed the trigger while maintaining a firm sixty-forty grip high on the tang.
His first shot sent him into sensory overload.
He actually heard the firing pin impact the round’s primer, and the concussion that followed was overwhelming. The sound exploded through his heari
ng protection as if he wasn’t wearing anything. The recoil in his hands felt like someone blasted a hammer into his right palm. The smell of gunpowder sent his olfactory senses into overdrive, and he could taste it in his mouth. His vision was the only sense that hadn’t been adversely affected because he shut his eyes when the first tidal wave of input hit him. It was so overpowering! How would he ever get past it to shoot?
Of course, his shot went way wide of the target.
“You okay?” Jake studied him.
Drew lowered his pistol. “I’m not sure. I need a moment.” He checked his earplugs to make sure they were seated properly and readied himself to try another round. This time he was expecting the concussion and was able to keep his eyes open. At trigger squeeze, every sense ramped up again, and Drew saw things happen as if a high-speed camera had captured the moment. For a fraction of a second, he saw the back end of the bullet exit through the orange flame plume at the end of the barrel. The shock wave rippled through the smoke, and his round pierced the center of the target an eternity later.
“Nice shot. Looks like you’ve got a bead on the target now.”
Drew focused again and emptied his magazine, forming a tight two-inch pattern in the chest of the target.
“Wow” was Jake’s only response.
Jake set him up to force shots from behind trees, standing, kneeling, lying down, and moving. Nearly every shot was tight. When they stopped, Jake took an extra minute to look over the targets. He glanced over at Drew.
“That’s as good as I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.” He waited for some reaction from Drew, but Drew just nodded and set to cleaning his weapon.
They finished up, made a fire, and cooked supper.
“Drew, what’s going on?” Jake asked after a silent meal. “Something’s changed. I’ve seen men experience stress, but what I’m seeing in you is unusual. I know you’ve been through a lot—can’t imagine what it’s been like, but your mom is concerned.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know. Should I be?”
It was dusk, but Drew could still see well. He made a three-sixty scan, then started trying to relax his eye muscles before the approaching headache overtook him.
“There’s no one around for miles. Why did you do that?”
Drew could fool his mother most of the time, but he could never fool Jake, especially when it came to identifying somebody looking for a threat—big red flag. He looked at Jake and realized that if there was anyone in the world besides Ben who he could trust, it would be Jake.
“Jake, you’ve trained me to be calm, objective, and calculated, and I’ve tried hard to take all of your instruction to heart. And by the way, I could never express to you how grateful I am. You’ve been … well, a father to me.”
Jake’s gaze dropped to the ground. Drew had never said anything like that to Jake, and it was long overdue. Jake seemed moved.
“You ever known me to be prone to a wild imagination?”
Jake looked up. His eyes were warm. “Of course not, Drew.”
Drew took a deep breath.
“That accident at the university left me with some very interesting side effects … and abilities.”
Drew watched Jake’s eyes for some response, but Jake just waited. He never interrupted a man and never cut an explanation short. Neither did he make any conclusions until he’d heard everything. Normally Drew appreciated this about him, but this time, he wished he could get a read before he went too far.
“I can hear things, feel things, smell things, and see things like never before. You’re right, something’s changed. You should be able to tell that by what we just did.”
Jake nodded. That was good.
“This is going to sound extremely bizarre, but I can see …” Drew bit his lower lip. The next few words he spoke could change everything, and he couldn’t quite force the words out. He restarted.
“When you were on mission, did you ever come into a situation where you knew the enemy was near but you just couldn’t ID him?”
“Often.”
“Then, all of a sudden, even though you might have been looking right at him, you could see him and you wondered why you couldn’t see him before?”
“Kandahar … it was frightful,” Jake said with a distant gaze.
“That’s what we have right here … in America … in Rivercrest, and I’m sure everywhere.”
“We’ve always had domestic enemies, Drew. The tough ones are those we can’t see, but it’s nothing to be paranoid about. You can’t live like that. The fear will eat you up.”
“Exactly.” Drew knew he couldn’t turn back now, and Jake wouldn’t understand unless he told him everything. “The lab that Ben was working at with Dr. Waseem had a device that was designed to accelerate light. What very few people knew was that the doctor’s ultimate goal was to see into another dimension.”
At that, Jake smiled.
“I saw into that dimension.”
Jake’s smile slowly vanished, and his eyes narrowed.
“And the accident, by some freakish way, has allowed me to continue to see into that dimension.” Drew waited, watching Jake’s every minuscule reaction.
He was silent for a long moment. “The enemies you’re talking about are from another dimension … and you can see them?”
Great. Jake sounded like he thought Drew was nuts.
“I know it sounds crazy, and you are the only person alive I can trust now. We have enemies that are fierce and powerful. Who knows how long they’ve been here or what they are capable of, but one thing is for sure, they are our enemies.”
Jake held up his hand. “Drew … stop! Listen to yourself and get a grip.” He glared at Drew, then softened his stare and sighed. “I know many good men that have struggled after some pretty traumatic things have happened, and you’ve been through a lot these last couple of years.”
Drew’s heart sank. If Jake didn’t believe him, he was truly alone. Now he had to act better than he’d ever acted before. He hung his head and rubbed his neck.
“I’m sorry, Jake. Lately my thoughts have been a mess.” He rubbed his eyes and face with his hands. “Especially since Ben disappeared. I’m not sleeping well, and when I do sleep, my dreams are pretty vivid. Perhaps that has something to do with all of this.” He looked up at Jake. “I’m so tired, and my head hurts again.”
Jake’s face softened. “Get some rest. Let’s take it light tomorrow and just relax.”
“That sounds really good. Coming here has already helped … I can tell.”
He forced a smile and hoped Jake couldn’t see the lie behind it.
The next day and a half that Drew and Jake spent in the Hills, Drew forced himself to believe it was all a bad dream. Sunday evening when they returned to Rivercrest, he felt like he had covered some of his error. He asked Jake not to say anything to his mom but didn’t get a firm promise from him.
WEDNESDAY MORNING, DREW WENT to work out. When he pulled up to the house, he recognized Jake’s car but an unfamiliar vehicle was parked next to it. As he entered the front door, his mother greeted him, and Drew became suspicious.
“Hi, Drew.” His mother put her arm through his. “I would like you to meet someone.”
Drew took off his sunglasses and frowned. “What’s going on, Mom?”
She escorted him from the foyer into the living room. Jake was sitting on the couch, and across from him was a middle-aged man wearing narrow glasses. Except for a little hair near the back of his head, he was bald. A synthetic smile seemed pasted on his pale face. He stood up as Kathryn and Drew entered the room.
“Drew, this is Dr. Fisher.”
Drew shot a quick glance toward Jake, but he averted his eyes to Dr. Fisher. Something wasn’t right. Jake always looked him straight in the eye, except when he felt like he couldn’t tell Drew something. Drew’s defenses snapped on.
“Hi, Drew. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Dr. Fisher’s voice dipped and rose in a way t
hat disgusted Drew. The man stepped forward and stuck out his hand.
Drew hesitated, then extended his hand. Dr. Fisher’s hand was soft and malleable, the kind Drew hated and couldn’t wait to withdraw from.
“Are you an eye doctor?”
Dr. Fisher’s condescending smile set Drew’s teeth on edge. “Not exactly. Please sit down. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”
Drew did mind. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Please … sit down.” Dr. Fisher motioned to a chair near him. Drew’s mother averted her eyes from Drew too and took her place next to Jake.
Drew sat down, analyzing the threat and his escape.
“I understand you are on the mend from quite an accident,” Dr. Fisher said with another insincere smile. “Your mother tells me you’re making a remarkable recovery—especially your eyes. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Drew turned his full attention on Dr. Fisher. His eyes narrowed. “What kind of a doctor are you?”
“The kind that wants to help you, Drew. Can you tell me when your vision was restored?”
Drew felt like a prisoner being interrogated for information he didn’t want to give. His answers were cautious and hesitant. The first few questions seemed harmless enough, but each time he glanced toward his mother and Jake, they would either look to the doctor or attempt a weak smile. Whatever was going on, he had lost them as allies. Drew played along for fifteen minutes of innocuous questioning, and then his suspicions were validated.
“So you are seeing very well with your eyes now, and you haven’t had them checked. Why not?” Dr. Fisher asked.
“Because I’m tired of bad news. I guess I don’t trust doctors. After all, I was supposed to be blind for life, and yet, there you are.” Drew motioned toward him with his hand.
Dr. Fisher nodded as if to agree with him. He looked all around the room. “Do you see everything in this room?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see things in the room that shouldn’t be here?” Dr. Fisher’s eyes became probing sensors, evaluating every move Drew made.