“I know.” For someone who is not supposed to have empathy, his eyes are filled with compassion. “I don’t know my parents either. I was raised in a government facility.”
That’s odd. “What kind of facility?”
“I lived in a group home until I turned eighteen. Then they transferred me to the super-soldier program. Most of the soldiers in the program were wards of the state growing up. We didn’t have an opportunity to form lasting attachments. I guess they think it’s easier to erase our empathy than to erase the empathy of a person who grew up in a loving home. That’s the theory anyway.”
“Why would your connection to me be so strong?”
He shakes his head. “I have no idea. But you feel it too, don’t you?”
I wish I could tell him that I don’t feel anything, but that would be a lie. I don’t like having feelings that I don’t understand. I don’t like communicating with someone who is here but not here at the same time. I like things that are black and white. I don’t like the lines between what’s real and unreal, what’s possible and impossible, being so blurred.
“What’s this plan you have? To get me out of here?”
“It’s going to take some time to implement. You can’t let them know everything that you can see. They can’t find out about all of your abilities.”
“Abilities? I don’t have any special abilities.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t realize it yet.”
What he’s telling me sounds crazy, but for some reason, I believe him. Despite my mom’s note, I do trust this man of my dreams.
“I will protect you.” When he looks into my eyes, his gaze is so intense it sends shivers through my entire body.
I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
“Maybe someday you’ll find out,” he says.
Did he read my thoughts? My face heats with embarrassment.
“I’ve thought about it too,” he admits. “Kissing you. Touching you. Being with you. I think about it a lot, actually.”
I can still feel so much of the pain and despair he holds inside, but now I can feel the desire too. For a moment, it takes my breath away.
Then I feel like I’m falling into his cobalt-blue eyes. Plummeting into a deep pool of sorrow. I’ve never felt so much anguish. My heart twinges as I’m enveloped in the years of pain he holds inside of him.
I trudge through heavy darkness until I find myself in a stark gray room.
It’s filled with rows of bunk beds. Each bed is covered with a threadbare gray blanket and a single, ragged old pillow. The room is drab and dreary. The cement walls are bare. And there are no windows. Just dim overhead lights.
I may have joked about my room feeling like a jail cell, but this feels like an actual prison. One from which there is no escape.
I watch as young boys file in. They don’t look older than seven or eight. They’re all wearing tattered gray pants and flimsy T-shirts. None of them are talking or smiling. They have expressionless faces and lifeless eyes.
How could kids so young already look so dead inside?
Each of the boys stops in front of a bunk bed. When a buzzer sounds, they climb into bed as if on cue. None of them says a word to each other. There are no adults there to tuck them in or even to say good night. Just a buzzer signaling that it’s time to go to sleep.
As the dim overhead lights fade, the boys close their eyes and go to sleep.
I’m jolted out of the scene when Falcon touches my arm.
“Are you okay?” His voice is filled with concern.
“No,” I say frankly. Just being in that room for a few moments was completely disturbing. I can only imagine what it was like to be one of those children, living like that, being raised in that environment.
“What did you see?”
“A bleak gray room with bunks. Little boys filing in to go to bed. A buzzer signaling that it’s time to go to sleep.”
“That sounds like the group home where I grew up. You accessed my memories of it.”
I place my hand over my mouth to stop myself from retching. What a horrible existence that must have been. It makes me sick to think about Falcon living like that as a child.
“I’m not that little boy anymore,” he whispers. “You don’t have to be sad for me.”
“Why would anyone treat children like that?”
“They raised us to be killers. They eliminated our capacity to feel anything. When you’re dead inside, it’s not as difficult to take someone else’s life.”
“How is it possible for me to feel what you were feeling? How could I see your memories?”
“I need to go.” When he gently strokes my upper arm, it feels like he’s lightly brushing my skin with a feather. “Stay safe.”
Before I have a chance to say anything else, he disappears.
I’m disappointed when I don’t see Falcon at breakfast. Maybe it’s for the best when Sergeant Snow places his tray on my table and takes a seat next to me. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“It’s fine.”
He smiles. “How was your first night at the base?”
“I didn’t sleep very well.” After Falcon’s visit, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I just kept picturing him as a little boy in that horrible place. I couldn’t shake the feeling of despair.
“The beds aren’t very comfortable,” Sergeant Snow says. “And it takes a while to get used to the idea of being underground. Would you like me to take you to the atrium again? Before you start with the experiments?”
“That would be nice.”
“Is everything okay? You seem a little distracted.”
Am I that transparent? “I’m fine,” I lie.
He pokes at the scrambled eggs on the plate in front of him, but he doesn’t eat them.
“What’s happening between you and Falcon?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks the question. He’s still focused on his eggs.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” My voice strains when I’m not telling the truth. Right now is no exception.
“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He puts his fork down and looks directly into my eyes.
“Nothing,” I reply a little too quickly. It sounds suspicious.
“He seems to be quite interested in you.”
I shrug. “I have no idea why.” That’s somewhat true. I’m not sure why the two of us seem to have such a deep connection. But there’s no denying it’s there. And it’s growing stronger every day.
“Do you know who he is? What he does? What he’s capable of doing?”
“Not really.” My voice is shaky.
Sergeant Snow wipes the edge of his mouth with his napkin even though he hasn’t eaten anything yet. “Falcon belongs to an elite team of super-soldiers. They’re not like you and me. They’re no longer human. They’re weapons. Killing machines. They don’t have the capacity for human relationships. Any one of those men, Falcon included, could snap your neck in an instant and not blink an eye. And they wouldn’t feel any remorse about it.”
My hand moves to my neck reflexively as a protective measure.
“I thought I should warn you so that you don’t get too close to him. You know the old saying about playing with fire and getting burned.”
“There’s a reason why clichés get old and tired.”
“And there’s a reason why people start saying them in the first place. Because they’re true.”
When he rises from the table, I get the sense that our conversation is over. “You’re smart, Jericho.” He grabs his tray. “Don’t be stupid about Falcon.” Then he hurries away.
I stare at the french toast on the plate in front of me. It’s my favorite breakfast food, but I just can’t seem to stomach it right now. I cover it with my napkin and lay it to rest, uneaten.
Dr. Palmer is heading toward my table anyway. Looks like it’s time for me to go back to work again.
“Today I’m going to have you do some exercises that are
a bit more complex. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He has me hooked up to the monitors again. It’s not quite as uncomfortable as it was yesterday. Maybe I’m getting used to it.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as he instructs.
“Now take in a few deep breaths and relax.”
I breathe in and out, doing my best to let go of the tension that’s built up inside of me.
“Today we’re going to assign you a target. When you’ve located the target, tell us everything you see.”
The image is fuzzy at first, but it looks like a man seated at a table. As the image comes into focus, I realize it’s someone I know. I guess I don’t know him all that well, but I do recognize him. “It’s Eli Washington.”
“Describe what you see,” Dr. Palmer instructs.
“Eli Washington is a young black male. He’s wearing khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt. He’s seated at a table by himself. There are other tables around him, but they’re empty. It looks like a restaurant. Not a large one. Maybe a diner. There’s a counter with customer seating, but it’s also empty.”
“Do you get a sense of where this place is? The location of the diner?”
I realize that I’m able to shift my focus so that I can see out of a large picture window inside the diner. I can also zoom in and out like a camera lens.
When I look out the window, I see a busy street. I zoom in on a street sign. “Corner of Main Street and Sixth Avenue.”
“When you’re ready, open your eyes, and we’ll see how well you did.”
Once I’ve opened my eyes, Dr. Palmer turns on the computer monitor. It’s a video feed from inside the diner. It’s a wide view of the entire restaurant. There’s one man seated at a table by himself. When Dr. Palmer zooms in, Eli’s features come into focus.
Dr. Palmer types something into a laptop that’s sitting on the other side of the monitor.
Eli grabs his cell phone from his pocket and glances at the screen. Then he turns to face the picture window.
Dr. Palmer switches the monitor feed to a different camera. This one appears to be Eli’s body camera. It’s a view of the street outside the diner. In the corner of the screen is the street sign. The words Main Street and Sixth Avenue are just barely visible.
“Great work, Jericho.”
At first, the positive reinforcement feels good. Then I remember what Falcon said. Don’t let them know what you can do.
Maybe I shouldn’t perform quite as well on the exercises he’s giving me.
“This time we’re going to try a different type of target,” he tells me. “One that we haven’t set up for you. This location will be unknown to both of us, so we won’t be able to verify your results immediately.”
“OK . . .”
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
I take in a deep breath, then exhale. “I guess I’m ready.”
“Same process as before. Close your eyes and relax.”
I close my eyes and loosen my muscles. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be focusing on, so I just calm my mind and wait. For a while, there’s just blackness. Then a fuzzy image starts to form in my mind.
It’s a young man. Tan complexion. With dark hair and coal-black eyes. He’s massive. Tall and thick. Dressed in all black.
“Can you tell me what you see?” he asks.
I describe the young man’s features and what he’s wearing.
“Good,” Dr. Palmer says. “Now can you tell me anything about where he’s located?”
I zoom out a bit and examine the area around him. “It’s dimly lit and enclosed.”
“Can you tell me anything about what you hear or smell? What does the location feel like?”
“It feels cool and damp. I don’t hear anything. It’s quiet. It smells wet. Mildewed. And it’s cramped. Maybe a cave or a bunker? I get the feeling that he’s hiding there.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the general location?”
I try to zoom out to get a sense of where the enclosed area is located.
“It’s surrounded by mountains. Beautiful red mountains. Not ones I recognize, though. Quite a few cactuses. A desert location. Maybe he’s inside the mountains like we are.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the general location?”
I scan the area. Do I see anything else? “In the distance, it looks like there’s a golf course. A resort maybe. It’s hard to tell. It’s pretty far away. I can see something else in the opposite direction. It’s really strange. It looks like a medieval village.”
Why would there be a medieval village in the Arizona desert?
“That’s good,” Dr. Palmer says. “Let’s try one more when you’re ready.”
I’m just about to tell him that I’m ready to move on when I sense something else. In an instant, I’m back in the cavern with the young man again.
I can hear footsteps approaching.
We hear footstep approaching. The young man can hear them too. I can sense what he’s feeling. He’s scared. His stomach knots when he realizes the footsteps are getting closer. But he doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s gripped with terror. Not that there’s anywhere for him to go. There’s only one way in and out of the confined space.
There’s nothing he can do but wait for the inevitable. He knows he’s going to die. Whoever is moving toward him is coming there to kill him.
Four soldiers cram into the small space. There are several more behind them.
The young man starts to shake with fear. You don’t have to do this. He doesn’t say the words, but he’s able to communicate his thoughts to the soldiers.
“It’s our job,” one of the soldiers replies verbally.
Put your weapons down. Again, the young man communicates with his thoughts without saying anything.
“We can’t do that,” the soldier says.
Put your weapons down. I can feel his frustration. He’s trying to control their thoughts, but they’re able to block him.
Before he has a chance to communicate anything else, one of the soldiers puts a gun to his head and shoots him.
The gunshot is so loud in the cramped space my ears start to ring.
When the young man slumps over dead, I resist the urge to gasp. Then a thick black oil-like substance pours out of his wound, and I realize he might not be a man at all.
He’s an alien. Or he was an alien. Before they killed him.
Is this my fault? Did I somehow lead them to him with my viewing?
“What else did you see?” Dr. Palmer asks.
“Why did they kill him?” I mutter.
“I don’t understand.”
“A soldier shot him. Killed him.”
“They haven’t found him yet. You just gave them the information about his location.”
I open my eyes and look directly at Dr. Palmer. “I saw him get shot. It was like I was right there with him. He’s dead.”
Dr. Palmer moves over to the laptop and types on the keyboard for several moments. He bites his thumbnail as he reads the information on his monitor.
“He’s a threat to national security, Jericho. He needs to be eliminated.”
“He’s still alive?”
“For now.”
How is that possible? I saw him get killed. I was right there when it happened.
“He didn’t seem like much of a threat.” He didn’t look much older than me, and he seemed more frightened than anything else.
“He’s part of a terrorist cell. A group of rebels intent on destroying our government. We’re doing important work here. You’re doing important work for your country.”
“I don’t like what you’re asking me to do. I don’t like it at all.”
“You have extremely unique abilities. We’ve theorized that it’s possible to see future events, but you’re the first person I’ve worked with who has demonstrated that capability so easily and fully.”
I shake my hea
d. “There’s no such thing as fortune-telling.”
“I’m not talking about hucksters who sell psychic readings by the minute over the phone. I’m talking about remote sensors like yourself who can actually experience future events before they happen.”
My head is starting to pound. “I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”
“They want us to do one more session today. Then you can take a break.”
I don’t feel as though I have much of a choice. Even though Captain Brooks told me they would release me in a few days, I get the feeling that they plan on keeping me here for a lot longer.
He seems to be intent on using my unique abilities to their advantage.
But what about the scared young guy cowering in the cave? I feel like it’s my fault he got killed. Or will get killed.
“Lie back down, please. We’ll get started again when you’re relaxed.”
Relaxed? I’m not sure how he expects me to relax when he wants me to search for beings they plan on killing.
A few seconds after I close my eyes, I start seeing images again.
The visions, or whatever they are, are coming much easier the more I practice. It’s like I’m turning on a television in my head. The images stream like a movie in my mind.
“It’s the desert,” I tell him.
I see a tumbleweed blow by. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m outside of my own trailer. Maybe this is what Falcon meant when he said not to tell them everything I know.
Maybe I should have taken that advice a little sooner. Maybe I could have saved that young being’s life.
Why would they have me view my own trailer? Or do they not know it’s my place?
When the trailer door opens, I let out a gasp. Then I chide myself for reacting to the scene. Dr. Palmer is definitely going to want to know what I’m seeing.
“What is it?” he asks a little too excitedly.
I’m at a crossroads. Do I lie and tell him I don’t see anything? Do I lie and tell him I’m seeing something completely different from what I’m seeing? Or do I tell a half-truth and only let him know a little bit of what I’m seeing?
“I’m not sure,” I say. It’s a stall tactic that I hope will buy me some time.
Alien Hunter Page 10