EVO Universe 1: The First

by Kipjo Ewers

  “You have five minutes for this call, please put in fifty cents to continue this call,” interrupted the automated operator.

  “Charlie, time is almost up, and I have to go.” Sophia hurried up the call, “Promise me you will destroy it.”

  Charles sighed giving his word, “I…I promise I will, but what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet, and its better you not know,” she huffed, “I got to go, thanks for everything. I love you.”

  “Sophia!” Charles yelled forgetting where he was.

  The phone went dead before he could respond. His heart leaped out of his chest from the last three words. He knew she probably meant it in the context of them being best friends, but he wanted to tell her he felt more, that he always felt more for her, and how much of a coward he was for not acting on his heart and telling her.

  For making excuses of something always coming up, things never being the right time, or who she was dating at the time, or that she was in court facing a death sentence. The regret he carried after she married Robert, he thought she was lost to him forever. Right there in the mother of all insanity he had an opportunity to tell her how much he loved her, and no matter what happened to make sure she came back to him. His one chance cut off by a pay phone. He looked up thinking that if there really was a God, He was a cruel practical joker.

  “I…love you too,” he said to himself letting all the air out of his chest.

  On the other side of the ended conversation Sophia was composing herself, adjusting her bullet-riddled clothes. Some shells caught in her clothing as well as her dreadlocks fell hitting the floor like coins. She walked back out into the front of the diner with all eyes fixed on her. When she jumped from the interstate she just took off and kept running; she was not sure how far she ran, but she was sure it would be awhile before anyone would find her. She lied to Charles for the fourth and probably final time, she already had a plan, she just did not want him involved anymore at all, or talking her out of doing it because it was truly an insane idea, and she herself was terrified of doing it. First thing was first she thought to herself as she walked up to the now nervous waitress behind the counter; find out where the hell she was.

  “Excuse me,” she put on the most innocent smile possible, “How much for some coffee and a bagel with cream cheese?”

  “Two dollars fifty cents,” The waitress nervously answered.

  “Okay…,” She nodded calmly, slowly she pulled out the money from the pocket of her jacket placing it on the counter; in the process some more bullets that did not ricochet, caught in her clothing fell out onto the floor. It also did not help much that the twenty-dollar bill had a bullet hole in it.

  She pretended everything was normal, “And I’ll take that to go…skim milk with four sugars…you can also keep the change…uh…could tell me exactly where I am?”

  “Waco…” the waitress answered her looking her up and down.

  Sophia nervously smiled nodding her head, yep she ran pretty far. She then dared another question, “Do you know what direction Washington, DC is?”

  “Do you need a bus station, or airport?” the waitress asked.

  “No…” Sophia smiled, “Just need the direction.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  On almost the other side of the country within the secret and fortified Mount McLoughlin, Director Rosen stood in his situation room alongside Dr. Archifeld Zimmermann as he watched an unedited replay of the confrontation on Interstate 10.

  On the theater like screen, various different takes and angles of the footage played from distant and zoomed in frames as analysts and lab technicians with technology never seen in some of the most advanced scientific facilities in the world attempted to study and assess Sophia’s amazing abilities in hopes of finding a chink in her armor.

  “She is amazing.” Dr. Zimmermann beamed, “She is holding a current speed of a hundred and ten miles per hour…I believe she can go even faster! The density of her entire anatomy must be greater than that of steel or tungsten! Pupils indicated that heart rate is at 40 beats per minute while blood pressure is operating at 120 over 80, no over excursion what so ever!”

  “Fascinating Doctor Zimmermann, now how do we capture her?” Director Rosen drove to the point.

  The good doctor scratched his head, “Physically…I don’t even think it is possible, even with the B.A.Ms.”

  “Then we have no choice but to go with plan B,” contemplated the Director.

  Almost as if on cue, the Director’s phone went off (his right tone being Hot N Cold by Katy Perry), slowly rolling his eyes as he pulled his Wi-Fi headset from his pocket placing it on his right ear turning it on, “Bonjour...”

  The Director massaged his nose as he listened to the distorted and incoherent ranting on the other side of his headset.

  “Well sir,” the Director tried to explain to the person on the other end, “Considering this is the first we’ve encountered such a situation, you should respect the fact that it takes time to devise an effective plan to deal with said situation.”

  The Director massaged his nose again as he listened to more distorted and incoherent ranting.

  He waited for it to end to give some reassurance, “Somehow she has managed to go off the radar, currently we can’t track her, that shouldn’t be for too long, and when she does show up again we will be prepared for her. Yes sir…yes sir…good day sir.”

  Director Rosen quickly pulled the headset off his ear rolling his eyes while looking to the heavens.

  A bewildered technician turned to him in confusion, “Sir…we are tracking her…she’s in Waco…”

  “I know that…,” returned the Director, “I just wanted to get him off the phone.”

  Ms. Barrett walked in with apparent news, “Sir, we have located the package. Agent Slater and assigned team have been dispatched to acquire it.”

  “Excellent Ms. Barrett,” the Director praised her, “How goes the units’ training?”

  “Steadily…#4 was not taking it seriously,” Ms. Barrett reported, “I was forced to give him a bit of motivation. I estimate that they should complete their training two hours before the forty-eight hour time period you gave them.”

  “Thank you Ms. Barrett, please continue to monitor the units’ training along with real time updates on Ms. Dennison’s whereabouts,” he instructed before turning back to the doctor, “Dr. Zimmermann, let us discuss the operation once we’ve captured her.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Doctor Charles Hampton sat quietly looking around at the sterilized interrogation room that was no different from one of the many examination rooms he had worked in, aside from the large dull silver table, three chairs, and two-way observation mirror. He was wondering if this was what Sophia felt like when they took her in, for her he imagined it was probably a million times worse. No more than thirty minutes after he finished speaking to her, federal agents walked into his place of work for the second time and gave him the option of being escorted out with or without handcuffs; obviously he chose the latter as he was sitting in the room unrestrained…for now. Nervousness began to set in as he tried to tap a tune on the table with his nails while his right leg twitched uncontrollably.

  He was about to get up and walk around when the door flew open as Armitage barraged in with a face that could split stone. It almost made Hampton pee on himself a little bit. The last time someone interviewed him about Sophia was almost three days ago in the safety of his own office. The female agent who came with a couple of files presence and mannerism was a billion times nicer than the old bruiser before him was.

  Armitage looked at him as if he stole something from him grabbing one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table dragging it around purposely making a screeching sound before placing it right next to Charles. He took a seat using the back of the chair as armrests staring right through Hampton who nervously looked at Armitage peering into his very soul at the corner of his eye. Sweat was now tr
ickling down the side of his forehead, and he had that tinkling feeling again.

  “Dr. Hampton,” Mark said as calmly as possible, “What did my agent tell you after she interviewed you at the hospital you work at?”

  Charles slowly turned his head to look directly at Armitage, which appeared to piss him off even more. He swallowed lightly not making any sudden moves and thinking before he spoke.

  “Um…excuse me?” he was not trying to play dumb; his mind actually went blank from fear.

  Armitage exploded out of his chair startling Hampton who almost fell out of his. He then marched over to the door flying it open.

  “Agent Morella Sanchez! In here! Now!!” Mark barked.

  Agent Morella Sanchez, an agent of five years walked in with her brunette hair pulled back adjusting the black squared glasses on her face; although she did not try to show it, she looked just as nervous as Hampton being ordered into the room by Armitage’s command which could probably be heard through the entire building.

  “Sir?” asked a nervous Agent Sanchez.

  “What did you tell Dr. Hampton on September 3rd 2008 after you interviewed him at 15:00 hours which is 3:00 PM in his office?” Mark ordered her to respond.

  “That if he was to come in contact with Sophia Dennison, he was to alert us immediately,” she relayed.

  “Because?” he ordered her to continue.

  “Aiding and abetting an escaped convict,” she cited, “A federal fugitive is a crime punishable up to two years or more in prison…”

  “Thank you, now get out,” he ordered.

  “Yes sir,” as quickly as she scurried out, Mark once again slammed the door closed walking over to Hampton setting up his chair, and taking a seat to stare him down like a cobra again.

  “Almost half a day after that conversation I have Intel that Ms. Dennison made contact with you,” Mark said calmly, “And you did not contact this office, which means you…broke…the…law.”

  Hampton made another hard swallow to moisten his severely dry throat. This maybe the first time he had met and dealt with Agent Armitage, but he could tell that this man had reached his limit, and the slightest thing could set him off.

  “Look...Agent Armitage,” Charles slowly began as if reasoning with a bear, “If you’re trying to intimidate me it’s working, but if you want me to tell you where she is, or what she has planned. I do not have a clue. She contacted me after what happened on Interstate 10. She told me she wasn’t running anymore, that she was going to find the people who really murdered her husband. She told me she didn’t want me involved anymore, she didn’t tell me anything, she just said goodbye and hung up the phone. I swear that’s the truth.”

  “Who does she believe murdered her husband?” Mark asked.

  “Not believe…knows…her husband was murdered but three people, two men and a woman,” he explained, “She believes the woman did the stabbing, because she saw her sitting on top of him holding the cake knife from their wedding. She described them as wearing some ninja like black sci-fi armor and a symbol on the left shoulder of a Grim Reaper holding a scythe in one hand, and a skull in the other sitting on a large skull.”

  Hampton’s description not only caught Mark off guard, it sent a sickening chill down his spine.

  Charles caught it, “You know what I’m talking about…don’t you?”

  “She described that symbol to you?” he pressed Hampton.

  “To the tee, another thing,” Charles clarified, “Along with her physical abilities, which you’ve probably witnessed firsthand…she has the ability to remember everything that she’s ever read, saw, or heard in her entire life, her mind is like a super computer allowing her to access any memory she has at will. I don’t know if you looked at her criminal files, but the reason why she kept saying she had no memory of opening an account, withdrawing money from an ATM, or driving to Oklahoma is because she never did those things. Call me crazy, but I believe someone else looking like her did those things to frame her.”

  Armitage knew that Hampton was not feeding him a line of bull; he had put enough of the fear of the Federal Government in him so he would not lie to him. As he looked into his eyes, it was clear Hampton at this point did not care about jail time; he wanted to clear his friend’s name.

  “You sit here…think about what you did,” Mark scolded him, “And I’ll be back to decide whether to charge you or not.”

  Mark got up out of his seat quickly exiting the interrogation room so that Hampton could not see him sweat; he went to meet up with Mercer to deliver shaking news when Dustin came from around the corner from his own interrogation looking just as pale as Armitage.

  “You won’t believe what the good Lieutenant just told me,” Dustin started.

  “Tales about the bogeymen?” guessed an unnerved Mark.

  “What the hell is going on Mark, what did we just walk into?” Dustin whispered apparently at his wits end, “a US government issued Death Squad…what the?”

  “What did Lieutenant Scott tell you?” Mark asked comparing notes.

  “Oh about a massacre in a town in Ramadi, Iraq,” Dustin threw out visibly disturbed, “Where an entire freaking town was wiped out. He believes his best friend the late Lieutenant Matheson was killed by the very same individuals who did the massacre for either doing his own investigation on them or over a super solider program; which would be so easy to call bullshit on except for the fact that his widow single handily made us look like bitches on Interstate 10.”

  “Back up,” Mark asked now confused, “What super solider program and what massacre in Ramadi?”

  Dustin tried his best to break it down verbatim, “Almost four years ago, three days before he had his last conversation with Matheson, Scott and his squad entered a town in Ramadi looking for insurgents. He and his squad found an entire town wiped out in the middle of the night; the assassins apparently slaughtered everyone with just bladed weapons. A little boy survived the massacre and described a symbol on one of the assassin’s left arm of a….”

  “A Grim Reaper with a scythe in one hand and a skull in another sitting on a large skull…Dennison described the same thing to Hampton,” Mark finished his sentence.

  Dustin nodded, “Lieutenant Scott said she told him they were in their bedroom the night her husband was killed…a woman and two men.”

  “Has he been in contact with her today?” Mark asked hoping he was.

  “He said no,” Dustin shook his head, “And I believe him.”

  “Why didn’t he come forward with this?” Mark asked officially beside himself.

  Dustin looked at Mark wondering how he could ask such a stupid question, “The guy was court marshaled and dishonorably discharged for trying to uncover the truth. He was then “warned” of severe repercussions if he leaked a now “highly classified mission” to anyone; that’s what happened. Seriously?! American soldiers “happen” to stumble upon a town brutally massacred, how do you think that’s going to go over?! No doubt there are a million and one gag orders burying this incident deeper than I did the neighbor’s cat!”

  Mark nodded in agreement then asked, “What about this super solider program?”

  “Speculation, Matheson was murdered while Scott was overseas,” Dustin sighed, “At least a month and half after the incident in Ramadi. He never spoke to him about a super solider program. Dennison told Scott that her husband was receiving treatment at a VA hospital, and that she noticed he was getting significantly better from his injuries. The reason she went to her ex-father-in-law’s house was that she believed General Matheson was responsible for enrolling him into this alleged project. ”

  “Which VA hospital?” Mark asked preparing to send agents there to investigate.