ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1)

by Jason R. James

  “Yes, sir.” Mandel offered a tired half-salute and stepped out of the elevator.

  “Sergeant,” Ellison said, and Mandel turned slowly back. Ellison could see the tired look on the young man’s face, and a part of him could understand it. Mandel had been up all night, and now Ellison had ordered him to walk the fence. So maybe he had a reason for his attitude, but it still wasn’t an excuse. There could be no excuse.

  Ellison kept his voice hard. “This is your priority one, Sergeant. This is your ticket. You understand what I’m saying?”

  Mandel squared up his shoulders to the elevator and saluted again, a proper, crisp salute this time. “Yes, sir.”

  Ellison returned the salute. Then he pressed the button on the elevator, and the doors closed; the car started to descend.

  “Patience,” Ellison whispered to himself. There could be no false steps—no near misses. He needed one perfect, unavoidable shot. That’s what it would take to get rid of Hayden, and that required patience. Still, patience wasn’t eternal—Ellison knew that too—and Agent Hayden’s time was running out.

  Chapter 12

  The elevator doors opened, and Jeremy stepped out into the Rec Room. His royal blue shirt was noticeably darker—almost navy now—soaked through with sweat, and his mop of dark hair looked like he had walked out of a shower. In one hand he carried a glass of water, more than half empty, and in the other he held a white cloth, wiping it back and forth across the back of his neck. In a word, he looked exhausted.

  “Langer worked you pretty hard, huh?” Talon asked. He was sitting at the conference table, directly across from the elevator. He was smiling. “You know what they say. ‘First day’s the worst day.’ Am I right?”

  This last question was meant for the man sitting opposite Talon at the table, and at first, Jeremy wasn’t sure who he was—he could only see the back of the man’s head. Then, all at once, Jeremy realized, and he knew exactly who it was. Gauntlet still wore the red and black armor over his body, arms, and legs, but his helmet was removed… Or rather, it was almost removed. The best Jeremy could tell, the metal helmet was split vertically in half and it folded down over Gauntlet’s shoulders, resting there like iron pauldrons.

  Talon spoke again to Jeremy, “Lunch is set up in the kitchen. Grab yourself a plate and have a seat.”

  In the kitchen, three silver warming trays were lined up on the island. Jeremy took a plate and spooned out a sampling from each: Salisbury steak, instant mashed potatoes, and soggy peas. He walked over to the conference table and dropped into the chair next to Talon.

  Talon looked down at the plate. “Just like the cafeteria back home, right?”

  Jeremy pushed the back of his fork against the peas. They squished together without moving. This was exactly like the cafeteria back home. Then Jeremy looked up. Across from him, Gauntlet was busy with his own plate of mass-produced lunch, and for the first time, Jeremy could look at his face.

  The man sitting opposite him was younger than Jeremy expected, probably in his early twenties. His hair was reddish-brown, and he had a strong jawline and deep-set eyes. He looked surprisingly normal. Jeremy tried to reconcile his own imagination of what Gauntlet looked like under the helmet with the reality confronting him now. There were no scars like he thought there would be on his face. No acid burns. The man had freckles for Christ’s sake. Then Gauntlet looked up, and Jeremy realized he was caught staring.

  He turned quickly away to face Talon. “So, uh, why do we eat down here. Why not eat with everybody else?”

  Talon shoveled mashed potatoes from his fork into his mouth. “Yeah, that comes from Reah Labs. They want to limit our exposure or something. Who knows?”

  Talon wiped his mouth with his napkin. “What time is it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He stood up, picking up his plate and utensils. “Hey, knock on my door when it’s time to go.”

  Then he left, and Gauntlet and Jeremy were left alone. For a minute there was silence. Jeremy raked his fork across his mashed potatoes, cycling through topics of conversation in his own head: weather, sports, what’s-your-power—all quickly ruled out.

  Finally Gauntlet spoke first, and his voice was low and still. “Talon says they can’t read you. Is that true?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no, actually.” Jeremy laughed nervously. “Mirror says she can’t—she can’t read me. Not totally. Not yet, anyway. I guess… I guess they can’t read you either, right?” Jeremy was grateful to be talking about anything; he didn’t care that he was babbling.

  Gauntlet didn’t seem to notice. “You know that makes you dangerous, Cross. You’re harder to control this way. Harder for them to predict.”

  Jeremy laughed again. “No. I’m not—I’m not dangerous. I don’t even know what I’m doing yet.”

  Gauntlet leaned forward, his voice low. “What do you think this place is? Reah Labs? Fort Blaney? What do you think we’re really doing here?”

  “They said it was research. They’re keeping us safe, I guess.” Jeremy answered, but now the whole tenor of their conversation had changed. It was making him uncomfortable. This wasn’t a friendly chat anymore.

  Gauntlet’s voice fell to a whisper. “Collectives only exist to safeguard the collective. It’s never about the individual. You need to remember that.” Then Gauntlet slid his hand halfway across the table, and Jeremy understood. He looked down.

  Gauntlet lifted his hand, and a thin grain of plastic rice was left underneath. “You know what that is?”

  Jeremy shook his head.

  “That’s the same kind of chip they jabbed into your neck as soon as you got out of the car yesterday. This one happens to be mine.”

  Jeremy laughed—a thin, nervous laugh—the kind of response you give when someone must be joking, even when everything points to the contrary.

  Gauntlet sat back in his chair, waiting. “Go ahead. Check for yourself.”

  Jeremy reached up behind his neck, rubbing his hand back and forth across the skin and then he could feel it—a raised scab just below his hairline.

  “It’s equipped with GPS tracking, biometric telemetry, and just enough C4 to blow out your brainstem.” Gauntlet closed his hand over the microchip and slid it back across the table; then, for the first time, the man seemed to smile. “But a trap only works if you don’t see the danger.”

  Gauntlet stood up, his metal helm folding back up and over his face and head, as if this was somehow the end of their conversation. But Jeremy needed to know more. What did Gauntlet mean by trap? Why would Reah Labs want C4 inside his head? And if there really were explosives next to his brainstem, how the hell did he dig them out? How did Gauntlet even know about it? Maybe he didn’t—maybe the whole thing was a lie.

  “Let’s go!” Nyx’s voice suddenly filled the Rec Room as she stepped out of her door and clapped her hands. Jeremy turned in his seat and watched her stalk across the room and bang on Talon’s door.

  She yelled again, “Let’s go!”

  Jeremy turned quickly back to Gauntlet. “What do you mean—” But it was too late. Gauntlet was already gone, standing sentry next to the elevator doors.

  Jeremy looked back over his shoulder.

  Nyx was walking toward the conference table now, her face twisted up in disgust as she looked down at him. “What are you even doing? You’re not ready. You’re not…anything.”

  Jeremy started to answer, “I—”

  Nyx wasn’t having it; she clapped her hands together and barked, “Go get your targeting harness and your earpiece. Now! We need to go!”

  Then Jeremy was up from his seat, heading back to his room.

  *****

  Two minutes later and all four of the Anoms were walking out of the main hangar and loading into a Humvee. From what Jeremy could gather, they were on their way to another training exercise—some kind of combination between capture the flag and laser tag. That’s what the targeting harness was for—the laser tag part. The earpiece was for communications. Jeremy didn’
t have his weapon yet, but neither did anyone else. Maybe they would hand out the guns in the field. It didn’t matter. At least this felt familiar. He had been playing capture the flag and first-person shooter games since he was born. He was ready for this.

  The weather, on the other hand, not so much. He didn’t think about the cold when he was in his room, grabbing his gear. He should have. When Nyx stepped out of her room wearing the heavy black parka it should have been a clue, but then Jeremy was scrambling to find his gear and he failed to put two and two together. After all, Nyx didn’t say, “Where’s your coat?” Now it was difficult to think of anything else—walking out to thirty-degree temperatures in a short-sleeve compression shirt has a way of grabbing your attention like that.

  Jeremy climbed into the Humvee, and it took off almost as soon as he shut the door. Five minutes later, driving down a dirt road through thick woods, it stopped. Apparently this was the place.

  It was even colder here than in the hangar. Jeremy climbed out and looked around. In the distance, above the treetops, he could see what looked like a fire tower.

  “Hey, G-Force, let’s do this,” Talon called.

  Jeremy turned around. On his right, twisting between gray tree-trunks, a narrow path cut through the woods, and the other three Anoms had already started down the trail. Jeremy blew out a quick breath of air through his nose and watched as it turned to fog. Then he followed after them.

  The trail, if you could call it that, was barely wider than Jeremy’s own foot in some places, with dead sticks and branches crossing overhead and sometimes right in front of his face. Jeremy ducked under a branch, turned a corner in the trail, and then it opened into a small hollow. That’s when he saw the rest of his team.

  Gauntlet, Nyx, and Talon had spilled out into the clearing, and across from them, on the other side, Major Ellison huddled with four of his soldiers. In the very middle of the hollow, a red banner rose twelve feet into the air, flying from a silver flagpole.

  As Jeremy stepped forward, Ellison pressed his fingers against the contact mic around his neck and spoke, his words meant for someone else. “Command, this is Red Team leader. The Anoms have arrived. You are free to start the two-minute countdown. Over.”

  Ellison and the four soldiers standing with him wore heavy gray and white camouflage with a small pack slung over their shoulders and their M-4 rifles strapped across their chests.

  “Copy that, command. Red Team, over and out.” Ellison’s hand came down from his throat, and he looked at the soldiers on his right. “Two minutes. Switch over to channel four now.”

  Ellison turned back to face the Anoms. He pulled a map from his breast pocket, unfolded it, and went to one knee, laying the map down on the frozen dirt. “You four want to come over here and find out what you have to do, or are you going to waste more of my time?”

  Nyx and Talon stepped around the map to stand behind Ellison. Jeremy followed. Gauntlet stood where he was.

  Ellison pointed a gloved finger at the map. “We’re here, on the western edge of the grid. Blue Team’s flag is somewhere to the east. I’m going to lead our fireteam across the field to engage Blue Team and recover the flag. Talon will move ahead of the fireteam to provide recon and aerial support if necessary. Talon, I want you to stay below the tree line. Keep out of sight.”

  Talon folded his arms across his chest. “You got it, Major.”

  Ellison tapped the western edge of the map. “Nyx, Gauntlet, and G-Force will set up a defensive perimeter around our flag. You three will delay or neutralize any assault from Blue Team until we can return to complete the objective. We need to hold both flags in order to win. Any questions?” The last line was a formality. Ellison was already standing up, folding the map, and turning to his men.

  “Major,” Nyx said, forcing Ellison to turn back around and face her. “No offense, sir, but we’ve used this same strategy for the last eight weeks, and we haven’t even sniffed our objective. I think it’s time for a change. Frankly, I’m the best asset you’ve got, and you keep—”

  Ellison raised his hand. “You can stop right there. We’ve used this same strategy for the last eight weeks because frankly you have yet to execute it properly. I think if you can just do what you’re told, you’ll see a big difference in our outcome.”

  Nyx rolled her eyes. “So here we go again—same exact plan. This is number nine, right? I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of crazy.”

  “No, Nyx, it’s the Army’s definition of doing things right,” Ellison snarled. “Now you can either follow my command, or you can stay out of my way, but we will not deviate from this strategy. Is that understood?”

  Nyx lowered her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  Ellison turned back to his men. “Thirty seconds. Weapons check.”

  Jeremy stepped forward, “Uh, Major?”

  Ellison turned back to face him, squaring his shoulders and folding his arms. It was obvious his patience was spent.

  Jeremy continued anyway, “You said something about neutralize. How am I supposed to neutralize—”

  Ellison raised his hand, cutting him off; he touched the contact mic at his throat, “What are the set parameters for G-Force in this exercise?” After a moment, the major nodded. “I copy, command.” He looked back at Jeremy. “A gravity field of plus twelve will keep you in the game. Command has determined that’s enough to stop a bullet. You are not, however, to engage with the enemy combatants at any time. They’ve decided you’re too unreliable right now.”

  “So what can I do?”

  “You can shield your teammates. That’s about it.”

  Jeremy laughed, but the look on Ellison’s face stopped him. “I—I don’t know how to do any of that yet. I can’t shield anyone. Maybe I can get a gun or something? I know how to shoot.”

  “No.” Ellison turned his back on Jeremy, his voice rising for his men. "It’s time to move out. Talon, lead the way.”

  At the major’s command to move, Talon crouched down low, almost kneeling in the dirt. Then it started—a turquoise swirl of smoke and fire around Talon’s ankles and feet, building wider and higher until the spinning flames consumed his whole body. Then, as fast as it all started, there was a flash of light, and all the flames were gone. Talon rose up to his full height—no, he was somehow even taller than before. Jeremy looked down. Talon’s legs were longer, his feet balanced on a pair of green, crystalline stilts, each one bending back towards the ground just like a cat’s legs. Then Talon stepped forward, and Jeremy realized they weren’t actually stilts at all. The crystalline legs moved with him—they were an extension of his own legs. But that wasn’t all. Falling from the base of Talon’s back, a long tail curled across the ground. Jeremy watched it flick back and forth over the dirt, and the dead brown leaves in its path leapt into the air, orange embers burning at their edges. Jeremy could also see the two turquoise blades rising off the backs of Talon’s hands, but these were almost an afterthought, because the most striking change of all were the wings. They rose from the center of Talon’s back, six feet on either side, thin and leathery and green.

  Talon looked over at Jeremy and winked. Then he leapt, straight into the air, his wings snapped out, and all at once, he was flying.

  “Let’s move.” Ellison looked back at his men, and the four soldiers followed after him, starting at a jog into the forest. Then, in a moment, they were all gone, out of sight. The sound of their trampling feet faded too, and Jeremy was alone with Nyx and Gauntlet. For a moment, none of them moved. Then Gauntlet stepped toward the flagpole and sat down in the dirt, crossing his legs.

  Jeremy looked at him. “What are you doing? What’s our plan? How are we—?”

  Gauntlet answered from behind his helm, his voice a low growl. “My plan is to sit here and wait. I’m not wasting my talents on some child’s game. Especially not for Ellison.”

  “You already heard the plan. We’re supposed to defend the flag,” Nyx answered.

  Jeremy turned to loo
k at her. “Okay. How do we do that? Should we all hide or something?”

  Nyx scoffed. “Yeah. You’re wearing a neon blue shirt, and you want to hide in the bushes from the US Army. Great idea.”

  “So you have something better?”

  “Yeah, I already told you. Stay out of my way.” Then Nyx turned back in the direction of Ellison and his men, adding under her breath, “We won’t be out here long anyway.”

  Jeremy stepped up behind her. “What was your plan? The one Ellison didn’t have time for?”

  Nyx let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “It mostly involves me and winning, so two things you don’t really understand.” Nyx looked at him over her shoulder, offering a saccharine smile before turning around and walking to the edge of the clearing.

  Jeremy could take the hint. He walked off in the opposite direction. Whatever her problem was, it had to be more than just him and Talon. Whatever he had said or done, it didn’t deserve a response like that. That was on her.

  Jeremy reached the edge of the clearing and stopped. He was standing in front of a huge tree, its twisting branches dead and bare and tangled with the other trees around it. He had to forget about it—all of it—forget about Nyx and her problems and her anger. Of course that was easier said than done. All his life he had taken those things to heart, and all the emotion that came with it. The guilt—regret. If he could just shut that off like flipping a switch, he would have done it a long time ago.

  Jeremy looked back at Gauntlet, still sitting in front of the flag on the ground. Maybe he had the right idea. Maybe he should just stay out of it.

  Jeremy took a deep breath and turned back to face the tree in front of him. At least, he could use the time to practice. He stepped back with his right foot, turning his shoulders to the tree, and raising his fists like a boxer. He bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, sizing up his “opponent”. Then Jeremy twisted his hips and snapped out a right cross into the tree trunk—a strong, solid punch. It was a mistake.