Light of the Last

by Chuck Black

  Drew’s world fell out from under him. This had to be from Reed. That scoundrel—that traitor! Why would he have reported such subjective opinions to his supervisors? But how did he know? Did Drew give away more than he realized as he was taking out enemies?

  He didn’t know how to respond.

  “Is this from Reed, sir? He has no basis upon which to be concerned and certainly no basis upon which to make a report on me.” Drew said, trying hard to keep his composure.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Carter. Are you seeing people that no one else can see?”

  Drew considered lying, then justifying, but Ross would see through it all. He tried to form words to answer, but they would not come, and that in itself was an answer.

  Ross just nodded. “Report to Dr. Whitton, suite 204.” He looked at the office complex just a few steps to Drew’s right. “I need a psychological evaluation performed, Agent Carter. I suggest you be forthright in answering any and all questions he asks of you.”

  Drew couldn’t even look at Ross. There was no way he would understand, no way he would believe what was at stake. His story sounded so absurd that if he tried, Ross would instead drive him straight to an asylum.

  He slowly opened the door and stepped out. Ross didn’t wait to see if he would go in or not; the GPS tracker in Drew’s body would tell him that.

  Drew considered running, but that led to prison bars. He considered lying, but that led to prison bars. He considered telling the truth, but that led to an asylum.

  He was trapped, and meanwhile, the dark invaders continued to wreak havoc on the ignorant species called man.

  14

  THE ILLUSION OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS

  When Drew opened the door to suite 204, the secretary looked up from her work. “You can go right in, Mr. Carter.”

  Drew saw the open door to his right. The placard read Dr. Whitton. Drew entered the room, sickened by the memories of Dr. Fisher, his sweeping voice thick with insinuation. Drew’s senses ramped to full alert.

  Why had he said anything to Reed? These people had no idea what was at stake. Any hope he’d had of using his position within the CIA to expose the invaders was now gone forever. What a fool he had been.

  Drew scanned the room and stopped just a few feet inside the door. Something wasn’t right.

  “Welcome, Mr. Carter.” A man dressed in slacks and a polo shirt stepped out from behind a large desk and came toward Drew. Silver hair, handsome face, fit body—the guy looked like he was meeting Drew for a tee time at the Links. And he acted like it too. A warm smile that wasn’t overdone put Drew at ease.

  “Dr. Whitton?” Drew asked, certain he was in the wrong place. This office looked too normal. No lounge chair, no framed credentials, and no bookshelves with psychoanalysis texts.

  “Actually, Whitton will do. I’ve been in the CIA too long to use anything but last names.” He held out his hand, and Drew automatically lifted his to meet it. His grip was firm. Whitton reached behind Drew and closed the door. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as he walked toward a small fridge in the corner. “I’ve got sodas and water.”

  “Ah, no thanks,” Drew replied, even though he needed some water. He didn’t want the doctor thinking he already had him at an advantage.

  Whitton pulled out two chilled bottles of water and returned to his desk. He set one on the side nearest a chair that was meant for Drew. “It’s there if you want it.” He circled back behind his desk and sat down. “Please sit down, Carter.”

  Drew sat down and glanced at the condensation forming on the transparent plastic bottle of water. Whitton cracked open his bottle and took a long draw until one third of the bottle was gone. He replaced the cap and took a deep breath.

  “Okay, Carter, I know you think this is a bunch of baloney, and quite frankly, I might agree with you, but I have a job to do, and I’d appreciate it if we could make this as easy as possible for both of us. You’ve been sent to me, and I’m supposed to determine your level of mental and emotional stability for the sake of the CIA’s interests.” Whitton leaned back in his chair and put his hands across the back of his head. “Don’t give me any lies, and I won’t give you any either. Both of us serve our country, and we both have an obligation to figure out what’s going on. The only way that’s going to happen is for us to be completely honest with each other.” He looked right into Drew’s eyes. “You good with that?”

  Drew was certainly caught off guard. Whitton’s tone and mannerisms reminded Drew a little of Jake. He wondered if that was intentional and then dismissed the notion. The CIA was good but not that good. Drew wondered if he really could be completely honest with this guy, but then, what did he have to lose? Reed evidently already knew he was seeing things, and he’d told who knew how many others in his chain of command. It had obviously reached Mr. Ross.

  Drew slowly nodded. “Sure.”

  Whitton looked a bit skeptical. “I’m going to tell you right now that one of the reasons I work for the CIA as a psychologist is because I don’t need a lie detector to know if someone’s telling the whole truth. It’s a gift I have, just like you have the gift of analyzing a room and determining threats within seconds of entering. The CIA is very good at finding the best talent the nation has to offer. I’m not at Langley because I’m now a consultant Mr. Ross uses for ‘special cases,’ like yourself.”

  Drew believed Whitton. However, he decided he wasn’t going to volunteer the truth. Whitton would have to ask for it.

  Whitton stared at Drew in silence for a minute, and Drew took the opportunity to reach for the water bottle. He downed half of it and then spun the cap back on. He set the bottle back on the table and looked at Whitton.

  Whitton was looking up at the ceiling. “I’m told you’ve been seeing things. Are they people? Soldiers? Agents?”

  Drew just stared at his water for a moment as he thought about Validus; then he slowly nodded. “Soldiers of some kind, I guess.” He hated hearing his own voice say it to someone who would never believe him. He wanted to jump up, run out of the office, and disappear, but Ross had made sure that was an impossibility.

  “Why are they here?”

  That was a strange question. Drew looked up at Whitton. He thought about it and realized that the most peaceful way through this was to tell the truth.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think they’re an invasion force, or are they simply some sort of cloaked agents from the government?”

  Drew shook his head. “I thought you said no baloney. You’re talking like you believe that what I’m seeing is real, and I know you don’t.”

  Whitton slowly dropped his gaze from the ceiling to Drew’s eyes. “Carter, it doesn’t matter whether I believe it or not. You believe it, and the only way to find out what’s really happening to you is for you to talk to me like I believe it. So again, is this an invasion force or cloaked government agents?”

  This was as hard as Drew thought it was going to be. He knew that the moment he opened his mouth he would sound insane and further incriminate himself. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Whitton said. “I think you do know, but if you’re not ready, fine. Tell me what they look like.”

  “Large and fast. The dark ones seem desperate to destroy us, and the light ones seem…well, better than us.”

  Whitton thought for a moment. “So it’s us and them. They aren’t human?”

  Drew fidgeted. “I don’t know. I guess I would probably say no, although it’s possible. They are close to seven feet tall. One group seems intent on destroying us—mankind. The other seems intent on helping us survive. It’s bizarre, I know. I—”

  Whitton held up his hand. “Carter, let’s not worry about trying to understand it. Just give me more details and help me see the whole puzzle.”

  Oddly, Whitton’s attitude was refreshing. Drew took a breath and began to share more and more details. Never had he been able to share so completely with s
omeone other than Ben, and that was a long time ago.

  The more he talked, the better he felt, and Whitton gave no impression of analyzing or judging him. At times he seemed mesmerized by the stories Drew told. His questions were those of genuine curiosity. At one point Drew wondered if perhaps he had been so convincing that Whitton might actually believe him.

  After two hours, Whitton stopped Drew, and he was quietly disappointed. It felt so good to get this out of his system. The burden had been great…much greater than he had even realized.

  “Carter, your visions are truly fascinating. Tonight I don’t want you to rehash anything or wonder if you should say more tomorrow. I know how good it feels to get a burden off your chest, and you’ve been carrying a lot. I want you to just enjoy the lifting of the weight. Got it?” He stuck out his hand.

  Drew shook his hand and nodded.

  “Good. For the time being, do not report to your office. Be back here at two tomorrow. I’m anxious to hear how you evaded one of them in the national park.”

  Drew didn’t hear a hint of condescension in his tone. He really wanted to hear it.

  Drew walked away fairly confused. Whatever technique Whitton had used on him had worked perfectly. He acknowledged that the man was extremely good, but it didn’t diminish how good Drew felt just being able to talk about it.

  The strangest part of all was that he hadn’t seen an invader, either light or dark, since Ross had shown up outside his apartment that morning and it was revealed that the CIA knew about his ability to see them. Were they worried they might be discovered? Were they plotting to take him out? Would the light invaders be upset and refuse to help him, or worse yet, have a hand in silencing him? These questions began to rob Drew of the “lifting of the burden” Whitton had talked about. He guessed that the doctor hadn’t figured out how to handle those kind of thoughts.

  The next day, Drew met with Whitton again, and the doctor was able to coax him into telling more of his story. As each chapter of Drew’s life unfolded, Whitton’s questions became more detailed and more intelligent. He asked about the invaders’ weapons. What could and couldn’t be translated? What motivated them? How were they able to influence people? When Drew shared about the three times the light invader named Validus had actually translated into the physical realm, Whitton was on the edge of his seat, soaking up every detail and asking a dozen questions about the incidents.

  The sessions went on for over two weeks until at last Drew had shared it all in excruciating detail. Well, almost all. He had been able to avoid revealing how he’d raised money for the equipment that he and Ben purchased to re-create the LASOK, explaining that they only earned enough money to purchase substandard equipment. Drew knew that if he revealed the Chicago Mercantile Exchange venture, the CIA would be able to track the money and then find Ben. And if the CIA found Ben, so would the dark invaders. It was his last and only secret—a secret to keep Ben alive.

  —

  One day into the third week of his sessions, Drew sat down as Whitton opened a file on his desk. Drew took a deep breath. Great, he thought. Here comes the psychoanalysis. Time to quit playing friend, Dr. Whitton.

  Whitton soberly turned the pages, and Drew waited in silence until Whitton finally looked up from the file.

  “Your father was an American hero, Carter.”

  Drew felt like he’d been smacked. He hung his head as memories of his dad came rushing into his mind unsolicited and unwanted. Not now.

  “Yeah, he was.” It was all he could say or wanted to say.

  “What was he like?”

  Drew lifted his eyes and pushed the tears and the emotions down with fierce resolve. He didn’t want to speak, knowing his voice would betray him. “Why are we doing this, Whitton?”

  Whitton’s countenance eased, expressing genuine sympathy and then sorrow. “My dad left home when I was eight. It took me thirty years before I could get to a place where I felt I could forgive him…if he ever asked for it. My mom”—Whitton shook his head—“My mom was my hero. I guess I always wondered what it would have been like with a dad as a hero too.”

  Whitton’s eyes glazed over, and he stared at nothing for a few seconds, then snapped his gaze back to Drew. He took a breath. “And I need to know everything I can about you in order to make my report.” He shot Drew a crooked smile.

  Drew nodded. He had to admit it, Whitton was honest.

  “I can’t imagine any dad better than mine,” Drew said. “He loved this country, he loved his wife, and he loved his son. And he died—” Drew’s eyes immediately threatened tears, and his voice trembled. He swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders. “And he died fighting for our freedom and for the freedom of those whose names he didn’t even know.”

  Whitton put a reverent hand on top of the file, which Drew realized must be his father’s. “I’m sorry, Carter. Great men sacrifice greatly. What happened in the years after his death? How did your mom get on?”

  Drew began to share his life story, beginning from the sorrowful day of his father’s funeral. Over the course of the next few days, Drew unloaded his life story up to the day of the lab accident at Drayle University.

  When it was over, Drew looked at Whitton, and his eyes were difficult to read. The CIA had indeed found a very talented man, because Drew felt exposed and unarmed. Deep down, though, he didn’t regret it. At least he had finally gotten to say it, and not once did an invader, either light or dark, appear during Drew’s sessions. It was quite peculiar, to say the least.

  Whitton stood up and walked from behind his desk to stand next to Drew. He leaned against the desk, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked at Drew.

  “Carter, you are one unusual man, and I must say that I have never heard a story quite like yours. It’s my job to analyze, report, and recommend. That’s it. The CIA isn’t in the business of therapy or rehabilitation.”

  Drew felt his chest caving inward. Something was crushing his soul.

  Whitton’s gaze turned serious. “Do you know who Mr. Ross is? Do you know how powerful a man he is?”

  Drew shook his head. “I guess I don’t.”

  Whitton smiled. It was the first subtly condescending action Drew had seen from him.

  “Let’s just say that these sessions we’ve had have been classified at the highest level. You and I are not to speak of them to anyone…ever. And furthermore, Mr. Ross has instructed me to help you, if possible.”

  Drew’s brows furrowed. “Help me?”

  “Yes, help you. But I’m not sure that’s possible.” Whitton stared at Drew as if trying to decide whether to take on the challenge.

  Drew was getting uncomfortable. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “You’re a smart man, Carter. I think you know what the probable outcome of all this is. If there were a way you could still serve your country and honor the service of your father, would you be open to considering it?”

  “Of course, but I’m still not following.”

  Whitton walked over to the side of the room and grabbed a chair. He carried it back to Drew and sat down so he could face him eye to eye.

  “Carter, you have one chance at getting this right, and it all depends on how you respond to what I’m about to say. All I’m asking is that you hear this out and give it careful consideration.”

  Drew was intimidated, excited, and apprehensive all at the same time. He had no idea what Whitton was about to say, but if it could keep him in the game, searching for the answer to the invaders, he would endure anything Whitton had to offer.

  “I’m good. Let’s go.”

  Whitton pursed his lips and nodded. “Carter, you have experienced one major tragedy after another. A father dying, a grandmother dying, football scholarships and hopes crushed, and perhaps worst of all, a friend dying in your lap due to your lapse in judgment and focus. Add to that a lab accident that left you temporarily blind and a friend expelled from the univers
ity. Every human being, and I mean every one, has a limit to how much emotional pain they can handle.”

  Drew knew what was coming. He wanted to run, but his legs would not obey. He was breathing hard, huffing with each breath. His world was crumbling. He wanted to scream against the life he was condemned to live. Why…why me?

  The moment froze, and he realized that Whitton had stopped talking. He looked at Drew in pity. As the realization of his fate drifted into Drew’s mind, his body felt twice its weight. He didn’t run because he couldn’t run. He was as serious a liability to the CIA as a mole. They would never let him leave, let alone disappear. He would be watched forever.

  It was all over. The invaders had won. Drew shook his head, anger slowly replacing his despondency. Protest rose within him, but Whitton preempted it.

  “If you can’t accept this, Carter, it’s over. The first step in overcoming any serious problem is acknowledging that there is a problem. I don’t expect you to get there in a day, but I do expect you to start the journey. Ross is bending every rule in the book for you. How far are you willing to bend for him?”

  That was when he came. Validus stepped through the wall and into Whitton’s office. The invader was fierce…angry.

  Whitton followed Drew’s gaze. “Do you see one? Right now?”

  Validus looked at Whitton and then back at Drew. Drew didn’t dare speak or move. Whitton stood up from his chair and walked toward the place Drew was looking, toward Validus, until he passed right through him. He put his hands on his hips as Validus frowned.

  “Drew, your invader is angry, isn’t he?”

  Drew nearly fell out of his chair. Who was this guy? How did he know?