ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) (10 page)

An
hour later, Major Ellison stood in a very different room. It was narrow, dimly
lit, and purely functional. On one of the walls there was a bank of computer
screens and monitors. Dr. Langer and two other researchers with lab coats sat
in front of these computers, typing and clicking, all in silence.

On
one of the video screens, Ellison could see a live feed from another room. This
second room was bright and sterile. It had stainless-steel walls, each one
uniform except in one of the walls where Ellison could see the seam of sliding
doors. In the middle of this steel room there stood a long table, and lying on
top of the table was Jeremy Cross. He was on his back, unconscious.

Ellison
looked down at his wristwatch. He had been waiting for over an hour and his
patience was wearing thin. He paced slowly toward the far wall and a soldier
standing sentry next to a metal door. The man’s M-4 was slung over his
shoulder, his back was straight, and his eyes were sharp. Ellison looked the
guard over with a sense of approval. Then he turned on his heels and started
back toward the opposite wall and another door with another sentry. This one
looked much like the first, only the man was too dull—somehow too bored. Too
complacent.

Ellison
turned away before he snapped at the man, and instead he walked back toward the
middle of the room. There, waiting in a chair behind the researchers, sat Lara
Miller, another one of the civilian contractors. She had been sitting in the
room when he first arrived, and over the last hour she had barely moved, her
long legs crossed at the ankles. She was looking down at a tablet resting in
her lap. Ellison glanced down at the screen.

Lara
spoke without looking up. “It’s
Wuthering Heights
, Major, not a report,
but I’ll let you borrow it when I’m done, if you’d like.”

Ellison
turned away without answering.

“Um,
Major,” Dr. Langer called from his chair. “We’re registering an increase in
heart and respiratory rates. The subject should be conscious in the next couple
of minutes.”

Ellison
stepped between the researchers and grabbed the phone from the wall. He punched
in four numbers, and the phone rang twice.

“Hello.”
The voice on the other end sounded heavy.

“I’m
sorry to wake you, sir.”

McCann
coughed. “No. It’s fine, Stuart. I wasn’t asleep.”

“Yes,
sir. You wanted me to tell you when Jeremy Cross was about to—”

“I’ll
be right there.” The phone hung up. Ellison put down the receiver and stepped
back, looking up at the video monitor on the wall. He could see the boy on the
table start to turn and shift in his sleep. For a second his eyes fluttered
open and then they closed again. He was awake. Ellison watched as he rolled
over to his side, blinked open his eyes, and sat up. Then Jeremy reached for
his head, rubbing just above his eyes.

“We’re
recording now.” Langer spoke loudly into a microphone. “The time is twenty
thirty-eight, and the subject is now conscious and alert. It’s been
approximately seventy-four minutes since initial sedation. All vital signs
register within range.”

Langer
looked down at his monitor. “Field sensors are up and recording. Sensor data
reads normal.”

“Hello?”
The voice of Jeremy Cross filled the narrow room, calling over a set of
speakers. On the video screen, the boy hopped off the table and walked in a
circle around the room, looking in every direction.

He
called again, “Can anyone hear me? Hello?”

One
of the doors in the narrow control room slid open, and the dull sentry standing
next to it saluted.

Colonel
McCann walked into the room. Ellison wheeled around to face him, rising to
attention. He lifted his hand in salute, and the sentry on the far wall did the
same.

Lara
Miller rose from her seat. “Good evening, Colonel.”

McCann
offered a half-salute to the room. “Everyone, as you were. What’s the boy doing
now?”

Ellison
stood with his hands folded behind his back, “He just got off the table. He’s
becoming more oriented. Everything looks normal so far.”

On
the video screen, Jeremy stepped toward the door in the wall; he rapped his
knuckles against the stainless steel. “Hello? Is anyone there? Can you hear
me?”

“And
now we’re starting to panic,” Langer said. “I have an increased heart rate.
Increased respiratory rate. We’re getting adrenaline in the bloodstream now.”

“Hello?”
Jeremy called again, louder this time, a different tenor in his voice.

One
of the lab techs spoke up. “Field sensors still coming back at zero—wait.
Sorry. Field sensors now show plus one.”

On
the screen, Jeremy pulled back his fist and punched it against the door. A
soft, metallic clang echoed over the speakers into the room. The boy rubbed his
knuckles.

Langer
laughed. “Looks like that hurt him.”

McCann
still stared at the video monitor. “Play the recording for him. Let’s see how
he reacts.”

“You
got it, Colonel.”

Langer
clicked an icon on his computer and a deep voice with a thick Middle-Eastern
accent played over the speakers. “You are safe. You are now in our possession.
You are property of the Red Moon. Sit down and wait.”

Jeremy
turned back to the door.

The
lab tech spoke again. “Oh yeah, he’s freaking out now. Everything’s up.
Adrenaline levels are way up.”

“Gravity
field just rose to plus three,” Langer interrupted. Then Jeremy punched the
door again. It looked like he hit the steel hard enough to shatter his hand
this time, but he didn’t flinch. Then he punched the door again. And again. The
sound of ringing metal echoed over the speaker.

Langer
was shouting above the noise, “Up to plus four now. We’re at plus seven.
Gravity field at plus nine and climbing. This is amazing. It’s all localized on
the subject.”

Jeremy
kept punching with both hands now, over and over, harder and harder, slamming
his fists against the door. The sound was like a blacksmith’s hammer raining
down on an anvil.

“We’re
up to plus twelve!”

Jeremy
punched again. This time, as he connected, the door buckled, bending into a
shallow concave shell, and the sound filled the narrow room—not over the
speakers, but right through the door, the low percussion of impact mixing with
the high-pitched whine of twisting metal.

Jeremy
pulled back his fist and kicked his heel into the door. Another thunder-crack
filled the room, and the sentry by the far wall raised his rifle to his
shoulder, aiming it at the deformed door. The other guard did the same, edging
forward past Ellison and the colonel to gain a better angle for a shot.

“Put
down your weapons. Both of you!” Lara screamed, but neither man moved.

McCann
pointed at Ellison, and Ellison gave the order, “Stand down. Shoulder your
weapons and get behind us.”

Both
men answered with a quick, “Yes, sir,” as they re-slung their M-4’s and stepped
to the opposite wall.

Jeremy
hit the door again, and it sounded like an explosion as the steel plate ripped
out of the door frame and twisted away to the right.

Ellison
reached for the Beretta holstered at his hip as he stepped forward, placing
himself between Lara and the broken door. Jeremy staggered forward into the
room, his teeth clenched and his hands balled into fists.

Ellison
pulled his sidearm. “Stand down, Cross.”

Jeremy
didn’t move. He stood in front of the broken door, fists tight at his side.

Ellison
shouted again, “I said stand down!”

“You’re
safe here, Jeremy.” Lara stepped forward, her voice low and calm. Jeremy didn’t
respond. She stepped forward again, holding her hands up in front of her until
finally she stood in front of Ellison. “This was just a test. That’s all.
You’re not our prisoner. We’re not the Red Moon. No one’s going to hurt you
here. It was a test.”

Colonel
McCann spoke up. “She’s right, Jeremy. You’re safe here.” He turned to Ellison.
“You can put the gun away, Major.”

Now
it was Ellison who refused to move. He stood rigid, staring down the sights of
his handgun at Jeremy.

McCann
repeated, “I said put down your gun, Major.”

“Yes,
sir,” Ellison forced himself to answer. He took a long breath. Then he squared
his shoulders and put the Beretta back on his hip, but still his eyes fixed on
Jeremy.

The
boy’s breathing was ragged. He stumbled back, catching hold of the doorframe.

Lara
spoke again, her voice still low, “John, I want you to play the recording for
him. Let him hear it.”

Langer
clicked the icon on the screen, and the deep Middle-Eastern voice played over
the speakers, “You are safe. You are in our possession. You are property of the
Red Moon. Sit down and wait.”

Lara
took another step closer, holding out her hand as if approaching a wounded
animal. “It was all just a test.”

“Test
for what?” Jeremy’s voice caught between shallow breaths.

“We
needed to see what you could do,” Lara answered. “Your ability seems to trigger
when you’re in danger, so we recreated that sensation. It was just a test.”

“Then
it was the last test.” Jeremy unclenched his fists, and it was like his whole
body took a breath.

“It
was the last test like that, I promise, but there
are
other tests we
need to run,” Lara said. “Right now, in fact. The doctor wants to see you for
your baseline physical. Then you’re all done for the night. Okay?”

Jeremy
nodded.

“Good.
Then I’ll go with you. This way.”

As
she finished, Lara turned and walked to the far door. Jeremy followed, stepping
between McCann and Ellison without acknowledging either one. Lara touched a
panel next to the door, it slid open, and they both stepped through.

Everyone
in the narrow room was silent.

Then,
as the door slid shut behind them, Langer spun around in his chair. “Holy—did
you guys see that? Sustained gravity fields of plus twelve. A late bump to plus
sixteen!”

McCann
stepped closer to the monitor. “You want to explain what just happened here?”

Langer
turned back to face the colonel. “Yeah, sorry. I mean, obviously there’s still
a lot of data we need to look at, but, basically, it looks like your boy
created a gravity well—we have it at plus sixteen in the data—and it was all
localized on the subject. I mean—”

Langer
stopped; he could see the colonel was lost.

He
tried to explain again, “Basically Colonel, the subject manipulated his own
gravity to alter his relative density—which is awesome!”

McCann
still wasn’t amused. “Try that again, doctor.”

Langer
reached for a Styrofoam coffee cup sitting next to his keyboard. “Yeah. Sure. I
want you to imagine for a second that you throw this empty cup against a
window.” Langer tossed the cup against his computer monitor, and it bounced
back. “Nothing happens, right? The cup is too light to do anything. But now if
you take the same cup, and this time you fill it with cement, and you throw it
again, what happens? This time it goes right through the window. And that’s
what just happened. That kid in there was the cup, and at plus sixteen the
cement was more like…well, it was more like depleted uranium.”

Ellison
stared at the monitor. “So what’s his rank?”

Langer
cleared his throat. “Like I said, there’s still a lot of data to look at, but
right now I would rank him as a four, possibly a five depending on his limits.”

Colonel
McCann was smiling now. “So, Stuart, it looks like we have a new player on our
team.”

Ellison
lowered his eyes and tried to think. He had always struggled with change; he
knew that. It was part of his nature, but this time it was different. Adding
anyone to the team this late in the game would be difficult. Add the wrong person
and it could be dangerous. Still, the Cross boy had potential; that much was
clear from what he did to the steel door. But he was young, his ability was
raw, and there wasn’t much time to fix either one. McCann could smile now
because he only saw the potential. Ellison was left to weigh the liability. He
felt the muscles between his shoulders go tight.

McCann
pressed, “What do you think, Major?”

Ellison
knew the right answer, and it had nothing to do with what he actually thought;
the colonel had already decided.

Ellison
sighed. “He’s going to need a lot of training.”

McCann
slapped his hand on Ellison’s shoulder. “Well that’s why I have you, Major.”

The
infirmary door opened, and Jeremy stepped through into a small waiting area,
rubbing his hand up and down his arm. Lara was waiting for him, sitting in one
of the chairs lining the wall, her electronic tablet balanced on her knee.

She
stood up when she saw him. “How do you feel?”

“I’m
fine.” Jeremy forced himself to smile. “Better now, even though your doctor
gave me about a dozen shots.”

“Yeah.
That’s pretty standard. Tetanus and malaria and ten more you may or may not
ever need.” Lara motioned to the door, and Jeremy followed her out. In the
hall, they turned to the left and started down the long corridor.

Lara
continued, “Did Dr. Barnes say anything about you losing consciousness? I know
it happened with the bus and again at the mall. It almost happened tonight.”

Jeremy
shook his head. “No. Just that we need more tests.”

“That’s
good then.” Lara glanced sideways. “No news, right?”

They
reached the end of the hall, and a pair of sliding steel doors. Lara punched in
a series of numbers on the keypad on the wall, and the doors opened with a soft
electronic
ping
.

A
monotone female voice played over the speakers, “Access code accepted. Welcome,
Agent Mirror.”

Jeremy
and Lara stepped inside, the doors closed behind them, and the elevator car
started to descend.

Jeremy
turned to look at Lara. “Who’s Agent Mirror?”

“It’s
just Mirror. There’s no ‘Agent.’ I don’t know why they say that. Mirror is my
designation. It’s like a code name. We all get one. You’ll see.”

Jeremy
smirked. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“All
the Anoms.” Lara kept looking straight ahead at the doors. “What did you think
I was, Jeremy? Your babysitter?”

“So
you’re an Anom? Like me? What can you do?”

Now
Lara turned to look at him, and her jaw was set. There was a thin crease
between her eyes, and her voice was sharp. “You don’t ask that question. Not to
anyone. Not ever again. Understand me?”

Jeremy’s
face flushed. “I—I didn’t—I’m sorry—”

Lara
turned back to face the elevator doors. “We’re not some carnival act, Jeremy.
We’re not a sideshow, and we’re sure as hell not our powers.” She looked back
at him over her shoulder. “So don’t ask. Not ever.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“I
know. It’s not—it’s not about you. It’s just the way it is.” Lara took a breath
before she started again, “I’m a psychic Anom. I’m officially registered as a
class three Echo. That’s my power.”

For
a second, Jeremy was ready to ask another question, but then he caught himself
and thought better of it.

Lara
answered anyway, “Echo means I can read minds. Thoughts. Emotions. Memories.”

“So
you can read my mind? I mean, just now did you read my mind? I didn’t say
anything, but you still knew what I was going to ask.”

Lara
shook her head. “It was a lucky guess. I told you, I’m a class three,”

Jeremy’s
face twisted.

“We’re
all grouped according to our limitations. A class five has almost limitless
power. A class three? Not so much. For me, I’m restricted by physical touch. I
need to be in contact with either the person or one of his possessions for my
powers to work. Here, let me show you.”

Lara
held out her hand. Jeremy reached for it, and Lara wrapped her slender fingers
over his palm. Her hand was cool and her skin was… Jeremy shook his head. If
she really could read minds, the last thing Jeremy wanted to be thinking about
was—

“You’re
excited.” Lara’s voice was soft now, low, like she was talking in her sleep.
“You’re excited, but you’re also nervous. Really nervous. No, it’s something
more than that. You’re scared. It almost feels like you’re in danger.”

Lara
let go of his hand, and then her voice was back to normal. “You’re funny.”

“Why?
Why is that funny?”

“It’s
just,” Lara looked back at the elevator doors, “out of the two of us, which one
can punch his way through a steel door? If anyone’s in danger here, it’s not
you.”

All
at once Jeremy understood. He saw the danger; realized the damage
he
could do. Lara’s words came racing back. This wasn’t a game. For better or
worse, this new world was real, and he couldn’t afford to be a spectator. He
was part of it now.

“Back
at my house,” Jeremy’s voice was low, deliberate, “back in Philly, you said
something. Not out loud; it was just in my head. What was that?”

“I
can’t answer that. Not yet.” Lara turned, and her jaw was tight. Not with anger
this time. Was she concerned? Afraid?

The
elevator slowed and stopped. There was another soft, electronic
ping
,
and the metal doors slid open. Lara stepped out of the elevator. Jeremy
followed. They drifted for a couple of steps into a large, open room.

Then,
as the elevator doors slid shut, Lara turned back around. “Welcome, Jeremy, to
the Rec Room.”

Jeremy
turned on his heels, trying to take in the whole room at once. Immediately in
front of the elevator there stood a large, rectangular table. It was made from
wide planks of wood, old and heavy, and it was surrounded by eight chairs,
three on each side and one at the head and foot.

Beyond
the table, on both sides of the room, four steel doors lined the walls, and at
the far end of the room a sectional sofa wrapped into a three-sided arc facing
a large, flat-screen television mounted on the opposite wall. A basketball game
flashed across the screen in vibrant color, and the low voices of the
television commentators played just loud enough to fill the room with a muted
buzz.

“Mirror!”
The excited voice came from his right. Jeremy turned to see a young woman
stepping out from an open door, her dark-brown hair cascading loose down her
back, falling over her shoulders. She had hazel eyes that they seemed more
green than brown, and she was smiling. A pair of shallow dimples dotted her
pale skin on either side of her mouth. She was wearing a thin blue sweater and
a pair of dark blue jeans, and her feet were bare.

She
hugged Lara, and said, “What are you doing back so soon? I thought your
rotation—”

Lara
shrugged her shoulders. “Colonel McCann wanted me back, so here I am.”

“Good!
Everything always seems easier when you’re around.”

“I
don’t know about that,” Lara laughed, “but it’s good to be back anyway. I like
this assignment. Good people.”

Then
the new girl glanced over at Jeremy, and her whole demeanor seemed to change.
She stood taller now, rigid.

Lara
saw the reaction and motioned over to Jeremy. “Megan, this is Jeremy Cross, our
newest member. Jeremy, allow me to introduce Megan Reynolds, code name: Nyx.”

“It’s
nice to meet you, Megan.” Jeremy reached out his hand.

Megan
didn’t react. In fact, she barely moved at all other than to flick her hazel
eyes on Jeremy and look him up and down. Her smile was gone now too. So were
the dimples dotting her cheeks. Instead, there was a coldness.

Megan
squared her shoulders. “It’s just Nyx, and I already know who you are. I read
your file. We all did.”

Jeremy
still held out his hand.

Nyx
didn’t move; she only shifted her weight and folded her arms. “I know all about
your stunt with the school bus, and I know about the mall attack. You went
after that guy with no training, no plan of attack, and no hope of survival—”

Jeremy’s
face flushed red; he wasn’t expecting them to know his life story. “Yeah,
well—”

“So
I have one question. Are you suicidal or just plain stupid?”

 Jeremy
let his hand fall. “Listen, I was trying to help those people. You don’t—”

“Next
time, don’t. Stupid people get other people killed, especially when you try to
help.”

Jeremy
was ready to answer, but before he could say anything a new voice called from
across the room, “Hey Mirror!”

He
looked over toward the television and saw a man scramble over the back of the
leather couch. The guy fell and hit the floor, but in the next second he was up
again, back on his feet, and running toward the group. He seemed older to
Jeremy, mid-twenties maybe, with a thin black beard running from his sideburns,
down his jaw, and ending in a neatly trimmed goatee. His skin was olive, and
his short hair was dark black.

As
he reached the group, he engulfed Lara in a huge hug, lifting her off her feet.
“It’s good to see you again,
mija
!”

He
spun her around once in the air, set her down, and then turned to Jeremy; he
held out his hand. “And you’re Jeremy, right? The boy who got hit by the bus
and lived? Like Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you, man.”

“Yeah,”
Jeremy reached out to shake hands, but the other man pulled him in close,
wrapped his arm around Jeremy’s back, and hugged him, slapping him hard across
the shoulders twice.

“My
name’s Carlos, but everyone just calls me Talon. I see you met our resident ice
queen—”

Nyx
narrowed her eyes at him. “According to who? The resident jackass?”

 “Jackass?”
Talon winked. “That’s not what you were calling me last night,
mija
.”

Nyx
flipped up both her middle fingers.

Talon
only laughed at the gesture, “You see that? She’s cold, man. I told you.” He
looked at Lara. “I told you before, Nyx’s real power is her personality.”

Nyx
rolled her eyes. “You need to grow up.” She turned back to Lara. “I’m going to
bed. It’s good to have you back, Mirror.” She turned away from the group and
started to her room.

Lara
looked over at Talon and whispered, “Why do you mess with her like that? You
know how she gets.”

Talon
smiled. “Who, Nyx? It’s part of her training. She needs to lighten up, you
know?”

“Well
one of these days she’s going to light
you
up.”

Talon
smirked. “No way. I’m like her big brother or something. She’d never—”

“Sometimes
big brothers get smacked,” Lara said.

Talon
waved his hand like he was brushing the comment aside; instead he turned back
to Jeremy, changing the conversation. “So? How about it, big guy? Are you ready
for all this?”
Jeremy was confused. “Ready for what?”

“Are
you ready to see what I can do or not?”

Jeremy
glanced over at Lara. “Uh, I’m not—I’m not really supposed to—”

“Yeah,
I know. She told you not to ask, right?” Talon pushed up his sleeves. “She told
me the same thing. But you didn’t ask, right? This is all volunteer.”

Talon
raised his hand, and at first Jeremy couldn’t see anything remarkable about it.
Then, slowly, a blue-green mist swirled over his fingers, building, covering
his whole hand. Jeremy looked closer, and he could see it wasn’t a mist at all;
they were turquoise flames.

A
thin vapor of flame, like the last flicker of a campfire before it’s lost in
the night sky, danced over Talon’s fingers, spiraling around his hand. Then
Talon closed his hand and the fire collapsed. It was thicker now, darker,
spinning faster around his hand. Suddenly, it all stopped and the fire was
gone. In its place, a single turquoise blade rose from the back of Talon’s
hand, long and sharp.

Talon
turned his hand over, giving Jeremy a better view of the blade. It was a pale
aquamarine, almost translucent, and crystalline. “Pretty cool, right? The
doctors say I’m converting raw energy into matter.”

Jeremy
reached out to touch it.

Talon
recoiled, stepping back and knocking Jeremy’s arm out of the way. “You don’t
want to do that, man. No offense, but this thing will go right through you.
They told me it’s burning at like... a thousand degrees or something.”

Jeremy
pulled back his hand, still rapt by the phantom blade. “Can you make anything
else? With the energy, I mean?”

“You
better believe it. Here, watch this.” Talon turned his hand over and opened his
fist. There was another cloud of the turquoise smoke around his hand, but the
blade was gone. Instead, five short claws rose from the tips of his fingers.

“They
call me Talon for a reason, right?”

“You’re
getting better at that; quicker transitions.” Lara was still smiling, but
Jeremy thought she looked different now—tired.

 “Thanks,
mija
. I’ve been putting in the training hours, you know?”

Lara
nodded. “I can see that.” She paused. “Talon, where’s—”

“I’m
right here.”

The
voice came from the left side of the room. It was deep and gravelled, like the
words barely made it out of the speaker’s throat. Jeremy, Lara, and Talon all
turned to look. Behind them, waiting in one of the open doorways, a man stood
watching. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a powerful
frame. He was dressed in a skintight suit from head to toe, blood-red with
intricate black scrollwork across the chest and down the arms and legs. On both
of his forearms and again over both of his shoulders he wore heavy black armor,
and his whole head was encased in a blood-red helmet—except for the eyes. The
eyes were shielded by jet black lenses. The hilt of a broadsword rose from
behind the man’s shoulder. Jeremy thought he looked like the perfect
amalgamation of science fiction and samurai warrior. The man stood in the open
doorway, his arms folded, waiting, and even though Jeremy couldn’t see the eyes
behind his helmet, he could feel the man staring.