Chapter 10
The room was small and dimly lit. Jeremy took another step forward, and the door slid shut behind him. A single bed was on his right, pushed up against the wall. It was already made, and the sheets were turned down like it was waiting for him. On top of the bed sat two small suitcases. Jeremy guessed these were the ones packed for him by Lara in Philadelphia. He pulled them both off the bed and let them drop to the floor with a dull thud. On his left, a black leather chair was pushed under a desk. He could see a keyboard and mouse sitting on top of the desk, but the monitor, a flat-panel video screen, was mounted to the wall.
Jeremy kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, leaving them in a pile in the middle of the floor. He peeled his black shirt over his head and tossed it on the back of the desk chair. Then he threw himself into the bed. He was asleep before he could turn off the light.
*****
“Jeremy.”
It was the whispered voice of his father. Jeremy blinked his eyes and tried to focus. He could see his dad standing just in front of him, but that was it. Everything else was a blur. He knew they were in the University of Pennsylvania emergency room. It was the same place they stood every other night. And Jeremy knew they weren’t alone. He could sense the other people around them, indistinct shapes out of the corner of his eye, but there was no noise—no movement. It was like they were stuck in a fraction of a second, captured and preserved for infinity.
His dad stood frozen, staring toward the waiting area; then he spoke, “I want you to look at me, bud. Okay? Just keep looking at me. I don’t have a lot of time.”
Jeremy was confused. “What are we doing here, Dad?”
“You need to do exactly what I say,” his dad said, still staring into the distance.
Then Jeremy wanted to look and see for himself. “Dad, what’s over there? What are you looking at?” Suddenly, it was more than just curiosity. It was more than a mere thought. For Jeremy, it felt closer to instinct—some primal urge forcing his head to turn in spite of himself. He needed to look.
“Jeremy!” The urgency in his dad’s voice snapped him back to attention. “I don’t have time, and you’re in danger. You need to listen to me.”
“I know. I can feel it. I feel afraid.” Jeremy’s face twisted; he tried to stay focused on his dad, but he felt his eyes turning away. He needed to look over at the waiting area.
Jonathan pressed on, his words coming quicker now. “You need to get out of Fort Blaney. You understand me? You’re not safe there. You need to leave. Now!”
Then Jeremy couldn’t resist any longer. He turned his head and looked at the waiting area. All at once, whatever spell held them frozen in time was broken. There was noise and movement now. Jeremy saw a man standing in the middle of the waiting room, his arm raised across his chest.
Then he heard his dad whisper, “Jeremy.”
Then came the explosion.
*****
Jeremy sat straight up in his bed, gasping for air. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and as he rose, they ran down his face, falling into his eyes. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow. He still felt half-asleep. It was hard to think, to hold onto a single thought. In the background, a dull, pulsing, incessant buzz filled every corner of the room, and it was only getting louder. Jeremy looked to his left and saw large, blue digital numbers on the video screen flashing in time with the throbbing noise of the alarm. Five o’clock. He needed the noise to stop. Maybe if he turned off the monitor or something—
Jeremy rolled out of the bed, rising to his feet and stumbling forward in the direction of the video screen. Then, all at once, the alarm stopped on its own. So did the flashing numbers. The lights came on, and Jeremy winced at the brightness. It was like the room realized he was awake—motion sensors maybe.
Jeremy looked around the room for his shirt, but before he could find it the video screen changed. The digital numbers were replaced by the image of a young black woman standing in a white business suit. Her hair was up and her eyes were pale blue.
She was looking right at Jeremy. “Good morning, and welcome to your first day at Reah Labs.”
Jeremy spun around when he heard the voice, but as he saw the woman staring back at him on the monitor, he ducked out of the way, trying to hide himself and suddenly feeling very embarrassed about only being half-dressed. He glimpsed his shirt hanging off the back of the desk chair. He grabbed it and pulled it over his head.
The young woman still smiled on the screen. “I’m sure you’re feeling pretty excited right about now. Maybe even a little nervous. That’s normal.”
Then he realized—the girl on screen was a recording; some pre-taped introduction played for everyone on their first day. He should have known. The woman’s voice was somehow too crisp; too practiced when she spoke. Jeremy sat back down on the edge of the bed, picking up his socks and pulling them on. Not the best way to start the morning, and somehow it felt even worse on his first day. Still, if nothing else, at least he was awake.
The woman on screen continued, “Here at Reah Labs, we’re committed to pioneering new and innovative advancements in the field of biomechanical engineering, the same goal we’ve pursued since our company’s founding in 1847. For over 150 years, we’ve been honored to serve as an industry leader thanks to one immutable principle: At Reah Labs, the individual always comes first. But what does that mean?
“It means that as of today, you are now the most important person at Reah Labs. You are our customer, but you are also our inspiration. You are the gateway to our future. And if you’re excited for your first day at Reah Labs, we’re even more excited to have you as part of our team.”
The camera pulled back, and Jeremy could see the woman walking through an office lobby. The floors were white marble, the walls were wood paneled, and a cluster of dark leather armchairs stood off to her right.
She stopped walking. “Reah Labs is also a proud partner with the United States Armed Forces. Guaranteeing your safety and the safety of future generations will always be our first priority.”
The camera cut again, back to a close-up of the woman’s face. “Finally, on behalf of all of us at Reah Labs, we hope you have a great first day. Welcome to our team.”
The video faded to black, and the company’s logo appeared in the center of the screen: “Reah Labs” written in thin, white block lettering above a stem of orchids.
Jeremy turned away from the screen and walked out of his room. Out in the open space of the Rec Room, the lights were still off and most of the room was swathed in shadow. The only bright spot came from the corner of the room with the kitchen.
That’s where Nyx stood, leaning the small of her back against the counter, cradling a bowl of beige oatmeal mush in one hand and her spoon in the other. Jeremy forced himself to smile. Then he started toward the kitchen.
Nyx didn’t move. She wore military-issue black cargo pants, a pair of black combat boots, and a long-sleeved, dark-purple compression shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she wore no make-up. The end result was that she looked pissed off; then again, maybe that was the point.
As Jeremy reached the kitchen, he sat down on one of the wooden stools around the island at its center. Nyx stared at him. Neither spoke.
Jeremy looked back over his shoulder toward the darkened room, pretending for a moment that he heard something behind him—anything to break free from Nyx’s death-stare—but as he turned back around, he tried his best to sound pleasant. “Morning, Nyx.”
Nyx stabbed her spoon down into the oatmeal, then tossed the bowl into the sink. The white Corelle dish clanged loudly against the bottom of the metal basin. The sound was jarring against the stillness of the morning.
She turned back to face Jeremy, her eyes cold, as if she were looking right through him. “You need to stay out of my way.”
Jeremy laughed. He didn’t mean to. He certainly didn’t think her comment was funny, not on the surface, but she spoke wi
th such earnest conviction that Jeremy couldn’t help himself. It was the wrong response.
He tried to recover. “I’m sorry. Listen—”
“No. You listen, dumbass.” Nyx still stared at him, daring Jeremy to look away. “You don’t have any idea what you’re getting into—what we do here; who we are. But I know you. I read your file. The way I see things, you should already be dead—twice.
“Instead you got lucky. But what happens when your luck runs out?” Nyx folded her arms across her chest. “So I don’t want your help; I don’t need your help. You’re not even capable of helping. You’re useless. Which brings me back to rule number one, plain and simple: Stay the hell out of my way.” She punched out each word, like she was typing on a keyboard.
Maybe she was right—maybe he was useless—but it was too early in the morning for Jeremy to care one way or the other. He smirked instead. “Listen, Nyx, I just want to know if there’s any cereal.”
Nyx leaned back against the counter. “What was that? Was that you trying to be funny or something? Because you sounded more like an asshole.” She turned away. “And speak of the devil.”
“Morning, kids,” the sleep-heavy voice came from over Jeremy’s shoulder. Talon was walking toward the kitchen through the darkened half of the room. He wore the same style cargo pants and combat boots as Nyx, but Talon’s shirt was short-sleeved and green. A patch of hair at the back of his head stuck up at an angle, and his eyes were still half-closed. In fact, Talon’s whole appearance gave the impression that he just rolled out of bed, threw on his clothes, and stepped out of his room in a single, uninterrupted motion.
As he reached the kitchen, Nyx walked around the island in the opposite direction and headed to her room. Talon ignored her. Instead, he stepped to the counter, opened up one of the cabinets, and reached for a mug. “You want some coffee?” He held the mug out to Jeremy.
Jeremy shook his head. “No. No thanks.”
Talon fumbled to fit the pod of coffee into the machine on the counter. “There’s, uh, some juice and milk in the fridge, I guess. Help yourself, man.”
“Any cereal?”
“Yeah.” Talon turned back around; he pointed at the cabinet closest to the refrigerator. “We got some Cheerios. Frosted Flakes, I think. Nyx eats that oatmeal slop if you want that.”
Jeremy got up, went to the cabinets, and found the box of Cheerios. He tried two other cabinets, and on the third attempt he found the bowls.
Talon opened a drawer and handed him a spoon. Jeremy took it and sat down at the island, staring down at his bowl. Suddenly he wasn’t as hungry as he thought. He pushed the cereal back and forth with his spoon. “What’s her problem anyway?”
Talon sipped at his coffee. “Who? Nyx? That’s just how she is, man. You gotta accept it.”
“She’s pissed or something, but she doesn’t even know me.”
“It don’t matter.” Talon set his coffee mug down on the counter. “Listen, Nyx is a professional. Period. Personal feelings about you, me, or anybody else—that doesn’t matter to her. You give her a job and the job gets done. End of the day, that’s what matters. It’s the only thing that matters.”
Jeremy looked back down at his cereal. “Yeah, I guess—”
“She’s been through it, man. Just like the rest of us. It’s not an excuse, but—” Talon sipped at his coffee. “I’ve been here just over two years. Nyx has been here more than ten. Think about that for a minute.”
Jeremy stabbed his spoon back into the bowl of cereal, and Talon tipped up his mug, finishing the coffee; he looked at the digital clock over the stove. “You better get dressed. The major likes an early briefing.”
Jeremy stood up. “When does it start?”
“It’s scheduled for seven, but we’ve never started later than six thirty.”
Jeremy looked over at the clock on the stove; it was five after six. “Great.” He dropped his bowl and spoon in the sink, and started back for his room.
Twenty minutes later, Jeremy had showered and shaved for the day. He found his version of the uniform folded up in the second drawer of his dresser: black cargo pants, thick black socks, and a royal-blue, short-sleeved compression shirt. The combat boots were stacked inside the bottom of his closet.
Jeremy got dressed and looked at himself in the mirror hanging from his door. His first reaction was a sharp, biting laugh. He looked ridiculous, like some weird cross between a frat boy at the gym and do-it-yourself cosplay gone wrong. It wasn’t the uniform’s fault; it could work on somebody like Talon or Nyx, but for Jeremy…the whole thing felt foreign and, at least in his mind, it looked even worse.
He turned away from the mirror, picked up one of the suitcases on the floor, and dropped it onto the bed. There had to be something better to wear. He unzipped the suitcase, and there it was. Right on top. His Penn State hoodie. This was Jeremy’s real “uniform.” He wore it more days than not. He lifted the sweatshirt up to his face, breathing in the warm cotton. This could work, if he wore this over top. Jeremy flipped the sweatshirt around and had one arm inside when he stopped himself.
Useless. That’s what Nyx called him—all luck and no skill. And she was right. If Jeremy wanted that to change, he would have to be the one to change it. And that started today.
He pulled off the sweatshirt, folded it in half, and laid it over the back of his chair. Then he stepped outside.
In the main room, all the lights were on now, and Jeremy could see that everyone was gathered around the far conference table. It was obvious they had been waiting.
On the far side of the table, Major Ellison sat with his hands folded, a half-frown of disgust smeared across his face. He was staring down at one of the tablets, and he barely raised his eyes when Jeremy stepped into the room.
Lara sat next to him. She was wearing another gray suit with a white blouse, her hair pulled back in a bun, and as Jeremy walked toward the table, she offered a quick smile.
On the near side of the table, Talon and Nyx sat side by side. They both turned at the sound of Jeremy’s door opening, but once they saw him they turned back to face the major, waiting.
Gauntlet was the only one not sitting at the table. He stood by himself instead, off to the side with his arms folded tightly across his chest. Of the five of them, he was the only one not to acknowledge Jeremy’s entrance. He stood unflinching, his face hidden beneath the scarlet helm. For all Jeremy knew, he may have been asleep on his feet.
As Jeremy reached the table, he pulled out the chair next to Talon and sat down. “Sorry I’m late. This—”
Ellison didn’t respond; instead he launched into his briefing, his voice static like he was reading from a script. “Our first order of business is to extend a welcome to Jeremy Cross. I trust by now you’ve all read his file.”
Nyx and Talon answered together, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Our preliminary data taken last night supports the theory that subject: Cross, Jeremy can alter and affect gravitational fields. As such, he has officially been issued the code name: G-Force.”
Talon’s elbow dug into the side of Jeremy’s arm. “Hey! G-Force. That’s a good name, man. It’s strong.”
Jeremy wasn’t so sure.
Ellison was still reading from his script, “As for activities this morning, Advanced Tactical Anom Training has been canceled. Instead we’re going back to Independent Baseline Testing on all genetic anomalies.”
Talon leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “We just did that, Major. It was just last week.”
Ellison looked up, staring back at Talon; the major was off script now. “I know what you’ve done and when you’ve done it. Last week the numbers were bad. In fact, there were signs of regression from some of you. So we’re going to do baseline testing until I say otherwise. You have anything else to say?”
There was silence.
Ellison looked back down at this tablet. “This afternoon we’re still scheduled for a Simulated Small Team Incursion and
Defense. That exercise will be outside at 1330 hours, so use cold weather gear at your discretion.” Ellison looked up and across the table. “Are there any questions?”
Jeremy had about a thousand questions ping-ponging back and forth in his brain, but this last line from the major was a formality. Ellison was already rising to his feet.
“There’s one last thing,” Lara interrupted before anyone else could stand. She reached up, took the tablet out of Ellison’s hand, tapped the screen, and then slid it across the table to Jeremy. “It’s your contract. Just sign and put your thumb down on the scanner.”
Jeremy looked around the table. “Contract for what?”
“Reah Labs is a private company. We’re hiring you. This is our standard non-compete, non-disclosure form. It’s a formality really.” Lara smiled.
Jeremy scrawled his finger across the screen and pressed his thumb on top of the scanner. There was a soft, electronic ping. Then he pushed the tablet back toward Lara.
She stood up. “Now it’s official. Welcome to the team, G-Force.”
Talon got to his feet, slapping his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Yeah. Welcome to the team, G-String.”
“That’s enough. Let’s go,” Ellison barked at the room. He was already walking to the elevator when he spoke. The others followed him on autopilot, as if they had been here, in this same room, forever. All except Jeremy. He still sat at the table trying to catch up.
The elevator doors opened, and finally Jeremy rose to his feet. He tried to imagine a time when any of this would feel like normal. It certainly wasn’t today—that much was obvious—but it could start today.
“I said let’s go!” Ellison barked again, and Jeremy followed.
Chapter 11
The elevator doors opened, and Ellison stepped into the hallway. As he started down the long corridor he could feel the others filing out behind him, but he refused to turn and look.
“Talon, I want you in room eight,” he said. “Gauntlet, take room five. Nyx, you can start in room four.”
ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) Page 11