“Pacific standard time?”
Was he in California? No, not warm enough. The street signs said 51st and Hawthorne. He looked up and down the building he just exited, seeing how out of place it was. The rest of the block had one to two story buildings, and then this one was a small skyscraper.
“Way to keep a low profile, guys.”
He had to act as natural as he could, having just run from the military. He had all the information he needed to expose the truth, and was probably on a black ops hit list.
They’re probably coming up the elevator now. I have to get out of here.
He jogged down the street until he came to an open restaurant, Por Que. He made his way inside.
“One or two today?” asked the hostess.
Drew smiled, doing his best not to act frantic. “Can you tell me what city this is?”
The server glanced around, as if looking for pranksters hiding in the restaurant. She leaned to the side, placing a hand on her hip, the other hand touching her lips. “What do you mean, sir?”
“Is this Sacramento?”
“You’re joking, right?”
Drew gave her a serious expression, his hands sliding in and out of his pockets. “I’m sorry. I have a brain condition that causes memory loss. I just need to know what city I’m in.”
Her eyebrows squished together. “Okay, well, you’re in Portland.”
Drew flinched. “Portland, Maine?”
“Oregon.”
He flashed his teeth in another smile, holding back his surprise. He turned and left the restaurant. He had no idea what was in Portland or where he should go next. More importantly, he had to get off the street.
Portland House Motel, a large, worn out sign stood high above the buildings a couple blocks down. Drew started to jog again, looking behind him every so often, then slowed his pace as he came to the motel.
It was a quaint, two-story affair, a bit worse for the wear. The paint peeled from the porch steps and the windows looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in about a century. He wondered how bad it was going to smell inside.
Coming up to the desk, he asked the woman for a room on the second floor. He had enough cash.
She took a drag on her cigarette, then walked to a side window and blew. She grabbed a key and handed it to him. “One flight up, second door on your left. Enjoy.”
The room stank of well-trodden carpet, old sheets, old everything. The walls were yellow with green trim and the lamps and bedside tables were straight out of the sixties, though never refurbished.
He pulled a chair up next to the window and shut the curtains, pushing one curtain aside so he could watch the sidewalk and street through the tiny slit.
His phone rang. Sunset to Sunrise was displayed on the caller ID. It was a national radio show, one of the most popular in the country, and he’d been on the show about a year ago, being interviewed about his life and a few of his documentaries. The show had a conspiracy slant to it, though unlike most conspiracy-type programs it was more credible with experts in the field.
Drew answered.
“I’m sure you are inundated with phone calls.”
Drew scratched his cheek, one eye still trained on the street below. “Robert May? Long time.”
“I received your packet in the mail. Interesting, to say the least.”
Drew sighed. “Good. I’m glad someone got something.”
“So, you haven’t been inundated?”
Drew pulled his phone away, looking to see if he had voicemails. He had none, nor any missed phone calls.
“I don’t have any. Should I?”
“Your information is all over the news.”
Drew about fell out of his seat, a stroke of panic consuming him. “Who broke the story?”
“Tucker Frost of PointLine.”
“The morning show? Is it on now?” Drew glanced at the sidewalk, seeing someone suspicious walk by. The guy held a phone, sun glasses, and was looking around as if trying to locate someone. He disappeared around the corner.
“It’s not just on that show. It’s on just about every news network, even your own.”
“WNN?”
“Yes, they seem to have more information than the rest. I guess you gave them a lot more than you gave any of us.”
Drew nodded, moving quickly toward the TV. He clicked it on, seeing some of the satellite images he leaked. Channel after channel was showing the same images; telling the same story. His story. He’d managed to get it out there. He had two whole minutes of relief, but that was cut short when he noticed a pattern. The networks were only showing those pictures he’d snail-mailed out. The additional data he’d emailed wasn’t being aired. That meant his email was compromised. The GSA probably had tabs on him. Those bastards had blocked his messages. The whole story wasn’t out there. He was still in danger.
He walked back over to the window, pushing the curtain slightly away, peeking outside, now even more paranoid. Maybe the gal who’d checked him in ratted on him. Or, maybe the hostess at the restaurant. He shrugged. Most likely, they didn’t even remember what he looked like.
“What do you think?” He surveyed the road, seeing a woman walk her dog by a stop sign. No black SUV’s, like he’d seen in the movies. “Of the material. Explosive, right?”
“You sound nervous, are you okay?”
“Not really. I spent last night and this morning running from the military.”
“Then you need to get on my show, ASAP, Drew. The more the world knows, the less leverage the military and the GSA have on you. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Tell me about it. Can you get me onto your show tonight?”
There was a pause. He heard Robert shuffling through papers. “I can fit you in my first hour slot, though you’ll be at the tail end of that hour.”
Drew pinched the ridge of his nose. “I’ll take anything.”
“It’s all over the news – and the people need to know the truth. I’m happy to have you on.”
“I only know snippets of truth, Robert.”
“But this is your story,” responded Robert. “Tell us what you can.”
“I have more...a lot more.”
“Send it over.”
“How? My email has been hacked. My phone is probably being...” Drew looked at his phone. Newbie mistake 3000. He’d been using his own phone. He’d given them the perfect way to find him. “I gotta go. I’ll call in just before the interview. I don’t want to give them a chance to track me. Right now, I have to go somewhere.”
“Thanks, Drew. I’ll speak with you tonight.”
He hung up. He had to find a library, create a new email account, and upload his pictures. He’d be sending out another glob of emails, just as soon as he could. This time, no one would have his new email address, especially Colonel Slade Roberson or anyone else in the GSA. This had to go primetime, all of it. His face would need to be everywhere. This story had to explode worldwide.
Sending data to every outlet he had a single connection with had worked once. It would work again. The networks were desperate for ratings and would do anything to get and keep their edge. He had a moment of pleasure, imagining Hobbs’ face when he realized he had no choice but to air the photographs. The delight was short lived. Drew was still in grave danger. He had to break the rest of the story; at least the rest of what he knew.
But first he had to make sure his phone couldn’t be traced while turned off. He couldn’t just throw it away, because everything he needed to expose Slade and GSA was right there in his photo library. He couldn’t take out his battery either. His phone didn’t allow it, unless he wanted to fuck it up and make it unusable.
He had to make sure “AnimationSpoof” malware, a malware program straight from some asshole Chinese hackers, wasn’t on his phone. If it was, shutting off his phone would do nothing. AnimationSpoof would create an authentic shutdown animation, making his phone seem as if it was shutdown and turned of
f. It couldn’t be further from the truth and would still be very much on and easily traceable.
Pressing on his phone’s security icon, he tapped on third party site applications and deleted everything he could find, including Samarai’s Destiny, the greatest game east of the Mississippi. He didn’t want to take the chance.
He ran a security prompt on AnimationSpoof, just in case it somehow got past third party software. It hadn’t. He was safe and shut off his phone. He couldn’t be traced. Not while his phone was off.
He stood, ready to go looking for a library when he realized the TV was still on. He sat at the edge of the bed, looking at satellite image after satellite image, the newscasters trying to figure out how pyramids could get on a Jupiter moon, along with what they called jets and helicopter pads. They questioned if this was really something alien or a secret government program no one knew about. The newscasters of course had more questions than answers.
Drew laughed. This was going to be the news story of the century and it would have his name written all over it.
32
June 5th, 2018
Underfoot Black, Grenada
Slade crossed his arms, eyes glued to the computer screen across from him. A picture of a brain, highlighted in yellows, greens, blues, and reds was displayed on the monitor. “What the fuck am I looking at, Donny?”
Donny gestured toward Jaxx, who was on the other side of a large window, in a dimly lit room. He was held up by ropes which extending from the wall and were wrapped around his wrists. He wore a helmet with wires and nodes sticking out. Unlike every other session Slade had witnessed, Jaxx was standing. But not standing still, nor slumped and defeated. He was standing tall, shifting from one foot to the other.
Donny tapped the computer screen. “Imaged here is Jaxx’s brain.”
Slade flicked his wrist at Jaxx. “Why do you insist on making Jaxx stand?”
“We don’t. It’s some type of standing meditation. Most people need to sit down and actively meditate. Jaxx, on the other hand, meditates while he’s unconscious. We hadn’t observed this in him before he had been shot, but since then, we can’t get him to lie down. We suspect this is a way his brain and central nervous system heals the best, being fully extended and stimulated, which is why he’s moving back and forth on his feet.”
Slade pursed his lips. “So, what is so unique about Jaxx?”
“Remember the documents that one of our operatives acquired from SSP, before their cover was blown?”
Slade nodded. “Get to the point, Donny.”
“Well, one of the documents was written by a doctor. They were acutely aware that Jaxx had an active, uncalcified pineal gland. In fact, it had grown from pea size, which is the normal size, to the size of an almond.”
Slade shrugged. “So?”
Donny glared at Slade, who apparently didn’t get the gist of this discovery. “This explains his telekinesis and his psychic awareness. I don’t think he has figured out how to use it as well as Rivkah, but a woman is different, more powerful in emotional strength than a man – ”
Slade clapped his hands together, snapping Donny to attention. “Donny, I just want to know about Jaxx right now. Get me there or I’m leaving. I have a fuck-ton of things to do before the launch.”
Donny swallowed. “Okay, do you see the rest of his brain? It’s off the charts. Billions of synapses are firing. Can you imagine what it would be like if he was actually awake?”
Slade couldn’t have cared less. “No.”
“This explains his ability to translate glyphs so quickly and precisely. And you know when we put him under in a hypnotherapy session?” Donny’s eyes brightened. “It is probably what allowed him to intuit enemy starfighter presence and movement before the enemy even moved. It explains how he could hit targets so well and fling space debris at will.”
Slade bit his lip. “Huh. Well, good job.” Slade didn’t know if Donny wanted a slap on the back or a gold medal. He gave him a slap on the back.
“No, no. You don’t get it. Do you know how many people have a pineal gland that is activated and has grown like Jaxx’s?”
Slade grabbed Donny by the shirt and pulled him in. “I don’t have time for twenty questions. Just give me the facts.”
Donny put his hands up. “Okay. I’m sorry. Now, I have only witnessed one other person with this brain activity. Rivkah Ravenwood. And, that’s it. We are experiencing something powerful, here, Slade. This is a jump in the human genome. It’s a DNA activation that science hasn’t seen before, at least not to my knowledge. I’m going to be doing more research, but I think what I’m seeing here is the beginning of some type of super human.” He back peddled. “Don’t get me wrong, Rivkah and Jaxx are far from being super human, but they are on their way. If any more DNA sequences open up in their bodies, then look out. The sky is the limit.”
“How did they get like this?”
“We don’t know. But, I’m calling it twist DNA, because that’s exactly how we see the signals traveling from the DNA into the pineal gland on both Rivkah and Jaxx.”
Slade found a chair and sat down. He figured he’d be in here for a while, listening to science talk. He eyed the window, watching Jaxx shift back and forth.
Donny continued, “Science has discovered genome DNA that does not encode proteins. They call it junk DNA. What I’m finding here is that it is not junk at all. Not all non-protein-coding DNA is useless.” Donny’s eyes were beaming as if he had just unraveled the greatest mystery in the entire Universe. “So, I’m calling it as I see it – twist DNA.” He smiled. “You see, twist DNA interacts with the surrounding genomic environment by providing important signals to genes. Once every twist DNA is expressed, or unlocked, then we will encounter a completely different type of human. This type of human would have activated areas in the brain that were once dormant, and the areas that were not dormant would become more excited, more in-tune to the body and everything around it. Diseases wouldn’t harm the body. Aging would be something of the past. And telepathic communication would be the norm. In regards to Rivkah Ravenwood and Kaden Jaxx, a portion of their twist DNA has been unlocked, turning on their pineal gland. As you have undoubtedly seen, a human with open pineal gland can defy the laws of gravity.”
“Why is Jaxx such a dweeb, when he’s not under hypnosis, if he’s this super-human?”
Donny shrugged. “My guess is he did something the Secret Space Program wasn’t equipped to deal with and they shut him down and wiped his memory. Without those memories, his twist DNA is just sitting there, waiting for him to fire back up.”
“Sounds a bit far-fetched to me,” said Slade.
“Yup, but so does moving things with your mind and we’ve both seen that in real time.”
A loud wa-bam jerked them both out of their seats. They threw up their arms to protect themselves. Once they realized they were fine, their eyes darted to the window separating them from Jaxx.
Jaxx lifted a chair on the far side of the room and shot it toward the glass.
Wa-bam.
The crack in the glass grew and the chair landed upright, then slid back to the position it had been a second earlier.
“His eyes,” said Slade, standing.
Jaxx’s eyelids were open, his eyes rolled back revealing only the whites. He smiled, then closed his eyes and hung his head, shifting on his feet again.
33
June 6th, 2018
Portland, Oregon
It was nearing 10:30 PM and Drew was taking a walk down the streets, waiting to turn his phone on. He didn’t want his motel location to be compromised and perhaps aimlessly walking the streets might confuse anyone tracking him – if he was still able to be tracked.
Earlier in the day, he had spent hours at the library, constantly looking up from a computer. To him, everyone seemed suspicious, even the librarians.
He had created a new email address, sending all the stunning pictures he’d taken of the underground stash of planes, t
rains, and dune buggies to as many contacts as he had, using the subject: This is Drew Avera, Vital Information Enclosed.
His name had been plastered all over the news, crediting him with securing the Callisto satellite images, so this subject line would get many looks, especially by those contacts that might look over an email they were unfamiliar with. He’d also had time to think. There were structures on Callisto. There were space-ready craft in an underground bunker. This wasn’t your usual “unmanned mission.” This was something else.
He turned on his phone. Within seconds, it rang.
He held the phone to his ear as he continued to walk. “Hi, Robert.”
“Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“The commercial break is ending, so keep your ear to the phone. We’ll be starting in a few seconds.”
Drew past a stranger, wondering if she had any weed. He usually conducted interviews a little more relaxed.
Robert continued, beginning his next segment, “We have a special guest on tonight. One that I scheduled this morning, and boy, will this blow your socks off. Drew Avera has been on our show once before. He’s one of the youngest reporters ever to work for World News Network or otherwise known as WNN. By now, you’ve all heard of him. He is the one who leaked the satellite images of the structures on the Jupiter moon, Callisto, along with outing a manned mission to that moon to investigate those structures. Yes, he’s everywhere, but he’s with us tonight, being interviewed for the first time since this story broke. A story that is consuming our entire nation. He graduated from Columbia University with a Masters in Journalism. He is well known for documentaries on the JFK Assassination called JFK and the Unknown Files, on the coup attempt in 1933 titled Smedley Butler, the Unsung FDR Savior, and his reports on Alzheimer's, the FDA, and many other amazing news programs. But my guess is this story is going to make Drew Avera a household name. Today he has given us a half hour of his time. Drew, welcome to the show. How are you?”
Project Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 1) Page 16