ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1)

by Jason R. James

  Nyx looked back across the observation deck. There was only one other man in the room, if she could even call him that. He looked more like a monster than a man. He stood half a foot taller than everyone else, and he was broader too—massive. His face was shapeless, and from head to toe his skin was covered in polished bronze. Nyx knew who it was; she was expecting him: the Anom from Caine’s video. It was Titan.

  The metal giant saw Nyx at almost the same time. He squared up his shoulders, raised his arms, and clapped his hands—once. A single, dull-metallic clang echoed in the room, and all at once, the terrorists stopped in place, looking back at their leader. There was silence—waiting. Titan pointed across the room, his bronze finger aimed directly at Nyx. His army turned.

  Then, for a second, Nyx was frozen. She wasn’t afraid—the opposite, actually—she was possessed by an eerie sense of calm. She saw the army of men turn and raise their rifles. She knew exactly what she needed to do—what she was trained to do—but in that moment, her body couldn’t catch up to her brain. She couldn’t move fast enough.

  But Gauntlet had no such problem. He was quicker than all of them. He punched out with his right arm, and from the armor on his wrist, a mini-crossbow snapped into place. The bolt fired, and one of the terrorists fell. Gauntlet spun to his right, pulling a dagger from a hidden sheath at his waist. He threw the blade as he finished his spin. The dagger turned once in the air and found its mark. Then Gauntlet reached over his shoulder for his broadsword, drawing the weapon and swinging it down through the closest man’s shoulder in a single wide arc.

  He did it all before the first shot was fired, killing all three, but then the machine guns on the far side of the room roared to life as the terrorists fired back. Gauntlet raised his left arm as his round shield snapped into place, deflecting the first barrage of gunfire.

  Nyx was moving now too. She dropped to one knee and punched out with both hands. Two bolts of energy shot across the room. She stood up and punched again, this time to her left. She stepped back and shot another bolt off to the right. It was impossible to tell if they were hits. She was already ducking, spinning, and punching again.

  The terrorists across the room had scattered, looking for cover, and the gunfire had become erratic, popping in bursts instead of a steady hail. Nyx dove forward, rolling behind an overturned table, looking for cover of her own.

  A blur of red off to her right caught her attention. It was Gauntlet. He was still on his feet, moving around the right side of the observation deck, working his way in closer. She had to keep moving too.

  Nyx punched twice over the top of the table, sending two random bolts of energy across the room, and then she lifted her head.

  Titan still stood at the center of the room, his arms outstretched to either side, daring them on. Nyx punched again. The energy bolt landed square against the Anom’s bronze chest, but he didn’t move—he didn’t even stagger. Nyx ducked again.

  One of the hostages screamed from her left—a shrill, curdling cry of terror—and then Nyx didn’t have a choice. In a brilliant flash of purple light, she was gone.

  She was in the air now, maybe only four feet off the ground, but she was falling, and she was directly behind one of the terrorists. He never saw her. Nyx punched out her hand as she dropped, and an energy bolt slammed against the back of the man’s skull. He pitched forward, unconscious before he fell.

  Someone yelled to her right. Nyx stepped back and punched across her body. The energy bolt hit the second terrorist in the face, knocking him back in a spray of blood. More screams, this time all around her, but Nyx was exactly where she intended, standing over the hostages. If nothing else, she could keep them safe—maybe.

  Nyx pressed the contact mic against her throat. “Red team, what’s your status?”

  Ellison’s voice crackled back over the receiver. “We’ve deployed to the roof, but the door is rigged with explosives. We need to wait for EOD. Hold position and stand by.”

  Nyx cursed under her breath. None of this was going right. In the plan, Red Team should have secured the south stairwell for egress. That was their way out. Instead they were stuck on the roof. In the plan, all Nyx had to do was jump the hostages to the stairwell, and then Red Team would evacuate to the roof. It was simple and precise. Gauntlet would stay behind to neutralize any remaining terrorists, and Talon would engage the hostile Anom.

  That was the plan. Not this. Not Nyx and Gauntlet trapped in a firefight with Red Team still on the roof and Talon nowhere to be seen. This was a deathtrap.

  Nyx pressed her contact mic again. “Where’s Talon? He—”

  Her voice was lost in the sound of shattering glass to her left. The hostages screamed again, and Nyx wheeled around just in time to see a ball of black and green energy somersault across the floor and spring up to his feet. It was Talon, standing in the room with his crystalline wings and tail unfurled behind him—better late than never.

  “I got your back, Nyx,” Talon’s voice yelled over her receiver.

  In the next breath, Talon was running—sprinting for the center of the room. Two terrorists stepped into his path to stop him, their rifles raised. Talon ducked and spun around, his wingtip slicing across one man’s chest and his tail catching the other under his ribs. Both men sprawled back, orange flames flickering on their clothes where they were hit, but Talon never lost a step. He still ran forward.

  And Titan was waiting for him.

  Talon closed the distance, and Nyx could hear him scream over the radio, “It’s time for you to burn.”

  Then he punched with his right, the dagger on top of his fist aimed at Titan’s chest. It struck home. Then the green blade shattered, and Titan still didn’t move.

  Talon reeled back, reset, and slashed up with his left for Titan’s face, but this time the bronze Anom answered. He caught hold of Talon’s fist in mid-air, and his dagger, hand, and wrist were all lost in Titan’s metal grip. Talon tried to pull away. Titan closed his hand. There was a snap, and Nyx could hear Talon’s screams in her receiver and from across the room.

  Talon sank to his knees, but Titan wouldn’t let go. He reached down for Talon’s throat, and lifted him into the air with one hand. Then he threw him away. Talon’s body twisted over in the air and slammed against one of the support columns, falling back to the ground in a twisted heap.

  Titan stepped away without looking back at the body. He walked toward the center of the room and reached down for something on the floor. When he stood back up, he lifted his bronze arm high above his head. Nyx couldn’t see what he was holding, but she didn’t have to. She knew.

  *****

  “They’re detonating! I repeat, they’re detonating the bombs now!” Jeremy heard Nyx scream over the receiver in his ear; she was panicked. Across from him, the man in black still held his AK-47 aimed at Jeremy’s chest, but that was irrelevant now. There was no more time.

  Jeremy closed his eyes and punched out his hands to either side of his body. All at once he could feel the change—the pressure in the air building around him, like his whole body was being squeezed in a press. It was like he was under the ocean, the waves crashing against him, pushing him down and back and under. The only difference here was the quiet. All the noise in the world was far away, and everything felt terribly slow, as if he had sunk into a warm, dark, mud. He felt all alone.

  "G-Force,” a soft, familiar voice whispered in his ear. It was Lara talking over the radio.

  “G-Force, we’re monitoring your gravity from command. Everything looks good, but you need to breathe. Waves, not constant. Remember?”

  Jeremy kept his eyes shut, but he sucked in a quick breath. At the same time, he let the gravity field drop. There was a moment of noise and freedom and a rush of cool air, and then Jeremy was pushing out again, focusing on the gravity field around his body.

  Then he opened his eyes. The terrorist in black wasn't standing in front of him anymore. In fact, nothing was in front of him anymore. There was not
hing anywhere around him for that matter. Desks and chairs and computer monitors were flung across the room, pushed twenty feet away in every direction by the gravity field filling the empty space. Jeremy blinked his eyes and tried to focus. He could see the terrorist now too, only he was even farther away, lying prone on the ground, struggling to stand up.

  Lara was in his ear again. "G-Force, we need you to increase the gravity field. Plus eighteen will not contain the explosion."

  Jeremy closed his eyes again, trying to push out even farther than before. He could feel the strain running back through every muscle: sharp, burning pain, and the blood rushing to his face. Jeremy's arms started to shake. His ears were ringing.

  Then, suddenly, there was a roar that even Jeremy could hear through the muted sounds of the gravity field. Was this it? Was that the explosion?

  He opened his eyes. The desks and chairs and computer monitors strewn across the floor were all gone now. The terrorist was gone too. So was all the glass in the windows. Everything not nailed down to the floor or bolted to the walls was wiped out, pushed out of the building on all sides through the gaping holes in the windows.

  Jeremy looked over at the wall. The bomb was still there—still intact. It hadn't exploded at all. This devastation was caused by him.

  Lara’s voice was in his ear again. “You’re at plus twenty-one now. The building is stable, but we still need more.”

  Jeremy tried to answer her, but his jaw wouldn’t move. He wanted to ask how much more gravity would it take, or when would the signal come through to detonate the bombs. When could he stop? But he couldn't get any of the words out. All he could do was grit his teeth and growl.

  "You’re at plus twenty-three. Keep it there. Waves, not constant.”

  Jeremy's vision blurred. His legs were shaking now too. He tried to focus his eyes on the bomb on the wall. He could tell a second indicator light across the top was flashing now. The first one had stopped. It was solid red. Maybe the second light had stopped too. He couldn't tell. Everything looked fogged over.

  “You’re back at plus twenty-one. We need more from you, G-Force. Let’s go.”

  Jeremy needed to breathe. He needed to drop the field and get fresh air, but there was no time for that now. If this was finally the explosion, he couldn't risk dropping the gravity field. Jeremy pushed his arms out again, straining against the air. He could feel his pulse thrumming inside his head. The edges of the room were going dark. He was blacking out.

  A wave of memory flooded back. Jeremy was a boy again, standing in his father’s study, crying and ashamed. Then he was eighteen years old in the mall with Kate, too afraid to die. Then he was standing toe-to-toe with Ellison, overcome with anger. Jeremy could see all of it—his whole past laid out at once—every turn that brought him here.

  And none of it mattered. Not the expectations or the judgments or the disappointments or the fears—none of the baggage they tried to throw on him. None of that belonged to him anymore. This was his life, and this was his choice, and any consequences, intended or not, were his alone. If he failed now, he would carry that alone too.

  With the last of his breath and all of his strength, Jeremy pushed back against the air and the darkness.

  Then there was a flash of light, and the whole room was suddenly washed in brilliant white. Then darkness again. Jeremy tried to focus on the bomb bolted to the wall. It was still there, but it was also changed. The black shell had shattered like porcelain, and it was falling away in a million pieces.

  Jeremy dropped the gravity field and fell to his knees. He couldn't hold himself up anymore. The floor seemed to spin under him, and everything was black. He pulled his arms into his chest and tried to breathe.

  Nothing.

  There was no air.

  He tried again.

  And this time he could feel it. The wind rushed in, blowing across his face. It was cold and sweet, and Jeremy drank it in, filling his lungs, holding it inside.

  Then came the vomit, a thin splash of clear water across the carpeted floor.

  Chapter 23

  Nyx dropped to one knee, still staring across the room at Titan, waiting for the explosion. She reached her arm behind her toward the huddled mass of hostages. Someone took hold of her hand. Someone else grabbed her forearm.

  She was going to live. That’s what Nyx told herself. Even if the bombs went off, she would still have time to flash herself away. She would take as many of the hostages with her as she could manage. That was the best she could do. She was ready.

  On the other side of the room, Titan looked at the remote he held in his outstretched hand. He pressed his finger against the detonator, hard, and then he looked at it again. Still nothing. He threw it down on the floor, and it shattered into pieces. It hadn't worked. For whatever reason, there was no explosion.

  Titan looked up from the broken remote on the floor and scanned across the room. He didn't have eyes, but Nyx could tell he was looking for something, his head moving in a slow sweeping arc from left to right. Then he stopped, and he was looking right at her.

  Nyx pressed the contact mic against her throat. "Gauntlet, I need you to engage Titan. Keep him away from the hostages."

  Titan started forward, stepping in her direction. Nyx stood up and punched twice, first with a left and then a right. Two energy bolts shot across the room. They hit Titan in the chest in rapid succession. He didn't slow down. He didn't care. They both bounced away as harmless as a beam from a flashlight. He was ten feet away now and closing the distance. Nyx pulled back with her right, ready to punch again.

  Then a loud clang echoed across the room, the sharp sound of metal striking metal—Gauntlet's sword swinging across Titan's back. Nyx wasn't sure where Gauntlet came from—she only saw the blur of red armor after he struck—but the attack was fast and powerful. It would have fallen a normal man, even one wearing armor. Titan only turned around to face his assailant.

  He swung a wild back-fist at Gauntlet's skull. Gauntlet ducked the blow, spun on his heels, and swung again. This time his sword raked across Titan's middle. It still did nothing.

  Titan punched again. Gauntlet stepped back, parried the fist with his sword, swung the blade up, and brought it back down, this time aiming for Titan's head.

  But Titan caught the sword in mid-air. Nyx held her breath. She had seen this before. She knew what Titan could do. Gauntlet jerked back on his sword, trying to wrench it free from the Anom’s metal grip, but it didn't move. Titan pulled back and punched again.

  Gauntlet let go of the sword, twisted away, and raised his shield just in time. It caught most of Titan's bronze hand, turning it aside to save his life, but the force still sent Gauntlet flailing sideways to the floor.

  Nyx pressed the contact mic to her throat. "G-Force, do you copy? We need support." No answer. She tried again. "Red Team, what's your status? We need backup down here. Now!"

  Ellison's voice answered on the radio, "We're still waiting on EOD. Hold position and stand by."

  Nyx looked to her right. Gauntlet had managed to get back on his feet. He was swinging a pair of axes now, one in each hand, but the way he was moving… He was dancing away, feinting at a quick strike and then pulling back, guarding his left side the whole time. Nyx could tell he was hurt. He wouldn't last.

  She looked back to her left. Talon's body was still strewn across the ground, twisted up where he’d fallen against the pillar. He wasn't moving. Nyx couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

  She pressed her contact mic again. "Talon is down. I repeat, Talon is down. He's not moving. We need medics."

  There was a pause; then Ellison answered, "We copy, Nyx."

  Nyx cursed under her breath. Talon was lying on the ground, dead or dying, and the best Ellison could offer was “We copy.”

  She looked back over her shoulder at the hostages. They were terrified—all of them. She could see it in their wild eyes and their open mouths. They were all too afraid to move—too afraid to even think.
They couldn’t save themselves now if they wanted to.

  Nyx cursed herself again. Maybe she wouldn’t make it out alive after all, but they still could.

  She pressed her mic. “Red Team, permission to evacuate the hostages?”

  Ellison’s voice crackled back, “Negative. Hold position and stand by.”

  Nyx shook her head; this wasn’t his call—it couldn’t be.

  “Negative, Red Team. I am jumping hostages to a nearby rooftop. Over.”

  Ellison’s voice roared back over the radio, “Negative! Hold position and stand by. Red Team will breach the tower in five minutes and we will evac as planned. Nyx, do you copy?”

  She didn't answer; instead, Nyx turned to the hostages. “Everybody listen. We can't stay here. We need to move. All of us. Take my hands—as many of you as can. I need you to hold onto me, tight."

  The hostages did as they were told. They reached up, and Nyx tried to wrap her fingers around as many as she could. She ended up with three different hands in each of her own, six hostages total. That was all she could manage. So then she would take six people at a time for as many trips as it would take. She could still do this.

  Nyx looked out the window and found her target—the nearest rooftop. She took a deep breath. "Now hold on."

  Nyx closed her eyes. There was a flash of light—she could see it brighten even from behind her eyelids—and a bolt of electricity shot from her molars down to her toes. Then she could feel the fresh air on her face, and the wind catching in her hair, and the light behind her eyelids was a warm orange—it was the sun. She was outside.

  Nyx opened her eyes. She was standing on that same far away rooftop. She looked back over her shoulder. The Sears Tower rose above the skyline. Then her stomach flipped and she felt like she would puke.

  Someone on her right did just that. She looked over. One of the hostages she’d brought with her was doubled-over, getting sick. Two more on her left did the same. Another hostage tried to step away, but his legs wobbled under him, and then he fell down on all fours. Nyx understood the feeling, but there was no time for that now.