ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) (11 page)

Talon
spoke first. “Jeremy, this is Gauntlet.”

For
a second nothing happened; then Jeremy roused himself to action, stepping
forward with his hand outstretched. “Hey, it’s nice to meet you.”

“We’ll
see.” Gauntlet stepped past him, ignoring the handshake; he was focused instead
on Lara. “Did you do what I asked?”

Lara
bristled, folding her arms across her chest. “No, I didn’t. And I told you I
wouldn’t.”

Gauntlet
scoffed behind his helmet and turned his head, staring off at a far corner of
the room. “And why not?”

Lara
shifted her weight. “It’s a breach of protocol. We don’t use the government’s
resources to search for ex-girlfriends. Besides, you don’t get to act like a
jerk and then expect people to do you favors. That’s not the way the world
works, and it’s sure not the way I work. If you want me to help you, then you
help me first. You let me get a reading, a
real
reading from you, and
I’ll take your request up to the major.”

Gauntlet
growled. “I’d be careful, Mirror. Blind loyalty is dangerous.”

“So
is insubordination.”

Gauntlet
turned and walked back, brushing past Jeremy, still ignoring him. He walked
through the doorway, and the door slid shut behind him.

Jeremy
looked back and forth between Talon and Lara. “What was that about?”

Talon
shrugged. “Nothing. That’s just Gauntlet, man. That’s how he is—how he always
is.”

Jeremy
still stared at the door. “What’s his name? I mean his real name?”

Talon
shrugged again. “No one knows.”

Then
Lara found her voice; she even sounded tired now. “Listen, Jeremy, you have one
last test. It’s your entrance interview with me. Talon, if you’ll excuse us.”

“Yeah,
sure thing,
mija
.” Talon started back toward the TV and the couches.
“Nice to meet you, Jeremy. We’ll see you soon. Mirror, glad you’re back.”

Lara
turned and walked to the first door on the right side of the room. It opened
and she stepped inside. Jeremy followed.

The
door slid shut behind him as Jeremy stepped into the room, and he knew right
away things here were different. For starters, he was standing on carpet—thick
beige carpet—and the walls of the room were dark and wood-paneled. A painting
of a farmhouse hung on the wall to his right. The lighting inside the room was
darker too. No overhead fluorescents here. Instead, a pair of floor lamps stood
in diagonal corners, filling the room with an amber glow. In another corner he
saw a potted houseplant. Finally, in the center of the room, there were two
wide chairs facing each other, both of them upholstered in dark, brown leather
and shaped as almost perfect cubes.

Lara
walked to the far chair and sat down; she motioned for Jeremy to do the same.
“Welcome to your first debriefing, Jeremy.”

Jeremy
walked around the chair and sat down.

Everything
about the room was designed to put a person at ease—he realized that—but for
Jeremy it did the opposite. “This looks more like a doctor’s office than a
military briefing room.”

“Maybe
it’s both.” Lara reached down into her purse and retrieved her tablet. “There
are no recording devices allowed in here, but I will be taking notes. Is that
okay?”

Jeremy
nodded.

“We’re
going to meet at least once a day, maybe more. This first interview is a chance
for you to get comfortable with me, and, in a very real sense, it’s my
opportunity to get comfortable with you. Everyone’s different, Jeremy, and I
need to learn how to read you. So then, are you ready?”

Jeremy
nodded again. “Yeah.”

He
understood it now. Lara was like a therapist times ten. She could get right to
the source of the problem—cut through all the bullshit. For Jeremy, it was a
terrifying thought. Then again, he could think of worse ways to spend an hour
than talking to Lara. He edged forward on the chair, holding out his hand.

Lara
reached into her purse again; this time she pulled out the red Pinewood derby
car she had taken from his house. “This will work. It’s why I took it in the
first place. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jeremy
flushed; he sat back in his chair. “No. It’s just—it’s fine.”

Lara
held the car between her hands and closed her eyes. Jeremy watched her in
silence. Her nose scrunched and she twisted her head like she was following
some distant thought, tracing it back.

She
shook her head. “I still can’t get a good read on you.” She opened her eyes.
“All I see is the big picture; the strong emotions like anger or embarrassment.
No real details.”

Jeremy
twisted in his chair. “So? What does that mean?”

“Nothing.
It really doesn’t mean anything. It’s just… It’s just going to take time.
That’s all. We have to get to know each other.”

Lara
turned the derby car over in her hand; now it was her turn to look
uncomfortable. “I need to ask you one last thing. It’s about the event at the
mall,” she hesitated, forcing herself to continue, “Nyx was right with her
question. You didn’t need to step out there and confront Hot Shot. You didn’t
need to risk your life. So why did you do it? Why did you go after that guy?”

Jeremy
looked away again toward the paneled wall. He could feel a flush of anger in
his face. “You think I’m suicidal?”

“No,
I know that’s not it. I would be able to feel that, but—”

It
was a simple question—an honest question—but somehow Jeremy’s answer felt very
far away. Hidden. Why did he risk his life in the mall? He tried to think—to go
back there in his mind. He remembered seeing the old man step out into the food
court, facing the assassin with his arms raised. The old man was claiming to be
him, sacrificing himself to make it all stop. And then he remembered Hot Shot
killing the man where he stood. And Jeremy felt that anger again. It was more
than anger. Rage.

But
that wasn’t it either. It wasn’t
why
he stepped out to confront Hot
Shot. Jeremy was already moving to the food court when the old man died. So it
had to be something else then; something more than just his anger. He
remembered hearing the screams of the hurt and the dying. And he remembered
looking down at Kate and seeing the same emotion in her eyes: fear, terror,
desperation. And there was something more. Jeremy could see it just under the
surface. Kate knew she was going to die. And then he thought about his dad…

“People
needed my help. That’s it.” Jeremy looked back at Lara as he answered.

She
smiled. “So you felt compassion.”

Jeremy
stood, uncomfortable; he walked around behind his chair. “So that’s it, right?
That’s everything?”

“Yes.”
Lara started to her feet, but then she caught herself and sat back down. “I
mean no, actually. I have one more question. When you told your girlfriend you
loved her today, that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“I
thought you couldn’t read me like that?”

“I
can’t, but—I could just tell you were lying. It was… You had an uncomfortable
feeling, and so I wanted to know why you said it. Why did you lie?”

Suddenly
the mall question seemed easy. Jeremy paced back in front of his chair, trying
to think.

*****

He
was standing just inside the doorway of his dad’s office. Jeremy was fourteen
and it was the middle of the night, the last day of summer vacation before the
start of freshman year. He couldn’t sleep. Most of the house was dark except
for the soft lights filtering into the hall from his dad’s office. Jeremy stood
in the doorway, silent, watching his dad type on his computer, his face lit by
the glare from the monitor.

Finally,
he interrupted. “Dad.”

Jonathan
Cross looked up from his screen. “Hey, bud. What’s up?”

Jeremy
stepped into the room, “I wanted to ask, how do you know when you’re in love?”
Jeremy felt a wave of embarrassment crash over him as soon as he spoke.

His
dad clicked something on his computer screen, picked up his coffee mug, and
stood up. “So it’s that question?” His dad smiled. “You better come with me.”

They
walked into the kitchen. The fluorescent lights under the counter were on, and
a pot of coffee brewed in the corner. His dad refilled his mug, and Jeremy sat
down on one of the stools around the kitchen island.

His
dad sipped at his coffee. “It’s the easiest thing in the world to know when
you’re in love, because we get to choose who we love. We find someone—and
they’re not perfect—but then we place their needs above our own. That’s it.
That’s love. And then we spend the rest of our lives trying to make good on our
choices.”

*****

“It
wasn’t a lie,” Jeremy answered, looking at Lara. “I do love Kate, just not how
she wants me to.”

“Then
why did you say it? You knew how she would take it.”

Jeremy
shook his head. “I used to love her like that—like she loves me. Maybe I still
should, I guess. Like I’m the one doing something wrong for not…not feeling
that way.”

Lara
cocked her head to one side, studying him; Jeremy could tell she was trying to
get a read on exactly what he was thinking. It wasn’t working.

Finally,
she gave up and just asked, “Why don’t you then? What changed?”

“I
did.”

Lara
scribbled something across the screen of her tablet. Then she put the derby car
and tablet away in her purse and rose to her feet. Without another word, she
walked out of the room, and Jeremy followed.

In
the Rec Room, Talon was sitting at the conference table, his attention focused
on the basketball game showing on the big screen, but as Lara and Jeremy
emerged, he jumped to his feet. “So? How’d it go in there?”

“He
did fine,” Lara answered, “especially for his first time. Now, if you’ll both
excuse me, I’m exhausted.” She pressed the keypad for the elevator. “I suggest
you get some sleep too, Jeremy. Morning comes pretty quick around here.”

“See
you in the morning, Mirror,” Talon said with a half-wave of his hand.

“Good
night, Mirror.” As soon as Jeremy said it, he regretted it. The others had all
called her by her code name. They called her Mirror, just like they called
themselves Nyx and Talon and Gauntlet, but even so, Lara felt different.
Calling her Mirror now—using it for himself—it didn’t sound right; it was like
the name was somehow too formal. Too distant.

The
elevator doors opened with a soft
ping
, and Lara stepped inside. “Good
night.”

As
the doors closed, Jeremy turned back to Talon. “She doesn’t stay down here with
the rest of us?”

Talon
laughed. “Nah. Mirror’s one of us, but she’s not exactly one of us. Know what I
mean?”

Jeremy
shook his head. “No. Not really.”

“Don’t
worry about it, man. You’ll figure it all out.” Talon sat forward, excited
again. “Hey! Did she do that ‘pick a number between one and a billion’ trick
she does? It freaks me out every time, man.”

Jeremy
had to laugh; if nothing else, Talon’s attitude was contagious. “No. Not yet
anyway. She said she can’t read me like that. She can’t get anything that
specific.”

Talon’s
eyebrows went up. “Really? You and Gauntlet then, man. That’s crazy. She can’t
get anything on that guy either. It’s why he’s such a mystery. Hope you don’t
turn out
loco
too.”

Jeremy
twisted inside. Lara made it sound like his reading was no big deal—a temporary
condition that would clear itself up, like psychic acne. But Talon’s
reaction…now he wasn’t so sure. And the last thing he wanted was to draw
comparisons to the crazy, renaissance-fair wannabe.

 “Hey,
you wanna finish watching the game?” Talon asked.

“No.
I think I’ll take her advice and go to bed. Which room is—”

“Second
on the left.” Talon jerked his head to that side.

“And
what time do I set my alarm?”

“No
alarms, man. They wake you up when they want you up. You’ll see.”

Jeremy
nodded as if he understood, but honestly he didn’t have a clue. At this point
he didn’t care. He couldn’t. It was all too much. When he woke up this morning,
his only concern was a day wasted shopping with his best friend. Now, sixteen
hours later, his old life was gone. He had been attacked, uprooted from his
home, and thrust into a world that as of yesterday didn’t exist.

He
knew it would take more than a good night’s sleep to feel like himself again.
Jeremy stepped to his door, the second on the left. It slid open as he
approached, and he walked inside.

The
room was small and dimly lit. Jeremy took another step forward, and the door
slid shut behind him. A single bed was on his right, pushed up against the
wall. It was already made, and the sheets were turned down like it was waiting
for him. On top of the bed sat two small suitcases. Jeremy guessed these were
the ones packed for him by Lara in Philadelphia. He pulled them both off the
bed and let them drop to the floor with a dull thud. On his left, a black
leather chair was pushed under a desk. He could see a keyboard and mouse
sitting on top of the desk, but the monitor, a flat-panel video screen, was
mounted to the wall.

Jeremy
kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, leaving them in a pile in the
middle of the floor. He peeled his black shirt over his head and tossed it on
the back of the desk chair. Then he threw himself into the bed. He was asleep
before he could turn off the light.

*****

“Jeremy.”

It
was the whispered voice of his father. Jeremy blinked his eyes and tried to
focus. He could see his dad standing just in front of him, but that was it.
Everything else was a blur. He knew they were in the University of Pennsylvania
emergency room. It was the same place they stood every other night. And Jeremy
knew they weren’t alone. He could sense the other people around them,
indistinct shapes out of the corner of his eye, but there was no noise—no
movement. It was like they were stuck in a fraction of a second, captured and
preserved for infinity.

His
dad stood frozen, staring toward the waiting area; then he spoke, “I want you
to look at me, bud. Okay? Just keep looking at me. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Jeremy
was confused. “What are we doing here, Dad?”

“You
need to do exactly what I say,” his dad said, still staring into the distance.

Then
Jeremy wanted to look and see for himself. “Dad, what’s over there? What are
you looking at?” Suddenly, it was more than just curiosity. It was more than a
mere thought. For Jeremy, it felt closer to instinct—some primal urge forcing
his head to turn in spite of himself. He needed to look.

“Jeremy!”
The urgency in his dad’s voice snapped him back to attention. “I don’t have
time, and you’re in danger. You need to listen to me.”

“I
know. I can feel it. I feel afraid.” Jeremy’s face twisted; he tried to stay
focused on his dad, but he felt his eyes turning away. He needed to look over
at the waiting area.

Jonathan
pressed on, his words coming quicker now. “You need to get out of Fort Blaney.
You understand me? You’re not safe there. You need to leave. Now!”

Then
Jeremy couldn’t resist any longer. He turned his head and looked at the waiting
area. All at once, whatever spell held them frozen in time was broken. There
was noise and movement now. Jeremy saw a man standing in the middle of the
waiting room, his arm raised across his chest.

Then
he heard his dad whisper, “Jeremy.”

Then
came the explosion.

*****

Jeremy
sat straight up in his bed, gasping for air. Beads of sweat dotted his
forehead, and as he rose, they ran down his face, falling into his eyes. He
wiped the back of his hand across his brow. He still felt half-asleep. It was
hard to think, to hold onto a single thought. In the background, a dull,
pulsing, incessant buzz filled every corner of the room, and it was only
getting louder. Jeremy looked to his left and saw large, blue digital numbers
on the video screen flashing in time with the throbbing noise of the alarm.
Five o’clock. He needed the noise to stop. Maybe if he turned off the monitor
or something—

Jeremy
rolled out of the bed, rising to his feet and stumbling forward in the
direction of the video screen. Then, all at once, the alarm stopped on its own.
So did the flashing numbers. The lights came on, and Jeremy winced at the
brightness. It was like the room realized he was awake—motion sensors maybe.

Jeremy
looked around the room for his shirt, but before he could find it the video
screen changed. The digital numbers were replaced by the image of a young black
woman standing in a white business suit. Her hair was up and her eyes were pale
blue.

She
was looking right at Jeremy. “Good morning, and welcome to your first day at
Reah Labs.”

Jeremy
spun around when he heard the voice, but as he saw the woman staring back at
him on the monitor, he ducked out of the way, trying to hide himself and
suddenly feeling very embarrassed about only being half-dressed. He glimpsed
his shirt hanging off the back of the desk chair. He grabbed it and pulled it
over his head.

The
young woman still smiled on the screen. “I’m sure you’re feeling pretty excited
right about now. Maybe even a little nervous. That’s normal.”

Then
he realized—the girl on screen was a recording; some pre-taped introduction
played for everyone on their first day. He should have known. The woman’s voice
was somehow too crisp; too practiced when she spoke. Jeremy sat back down on
the edge of the bed, picking up his socks and pulling them on. Not the best way
to start the morning, and somehow it felt even worse on his first day. Still,
if nothing else, at least he was awake.

The
woman on screen continued, “Here at Reah Labs, we’re committed to pioneering
new and innovative advancements in the field of biomechanical engineering, the
same goal we’ve pursued since our company’s founding in 1847. For over 150
years, we’ve been honored to serve as an industry leader thanks to one
immutable principle: At Reah Labs, the individual always comes first. But what
does that mean?

“It
means that as of today,
you
are now the most important person at Reah
Labs. You are our customer, but you are also our inspiration. You are the
gateway to our future. And if you’re excited for your first day at Reah Labs,
we’re even more excited to have you as part of our team.”

The
camera pulled back, and Jeremy could see the woman walking through an office
lobby. The floors were white marble, the walls were wood paneled, and a cluster
of dark leather armchairs stood off to her right.

She
stopped walking. “Reah Labs is also a proud partner with the United States
Armed Forces. Guaranteeing your safety and the safety of future generations
will always be our first priority.”

The
camera cut again, back to a close-up of the woman’s face. “Finally, on behalf
of all of us at Reah Labs, we hope you have a great first day. Welcome to our
team.”

The
video faded to black, and the company’s logo appeared in the center of the
screen: “Reah Labs” written in thin, white block lettering above a stem of
orchids.

Jeremy
turned away from the screen and walked out of his room. Out in the open space
of the Rec Room, the lights were still off and most of the room was swathed in
shadow. The only bright spot came from the corner of the room with the kitchen.

That’s
where Nyx stood, leaning the small of her back against the counter, cradling a
bowl of beige oatmeal mush in one hand and her spoon in the other. Jeremy
forced himself to smile. Then he started toward the kitchen.

Nyx
didn’t move. She wore military-issue black cargo pants, a pair of black combat
boots, and a long-sleeved, dark-purple compression shirt. Her hair was pulled
back in a tight ponytail, and she wore no make-up. The end result was that she
looked pissed off; then again, maybe that was the point.

As
Jeremy reached the kitchen, he sat down on one of the wooden stools around the
island at its center. Nyx stared at him. Neither spoke.

Jeremy
looked back over his shoulder toward the darkened room, pretending for a moment
that he heard something behind him—anything to break free from Nyx’s
death-stare—but as he turned back around, he tried his best to sound pleasant.
“Morning, Nyx.”

Nyx
stabbed her spoon down into the oatmeal, then tossed the bowl into the sink.
The white Corelle dish clanged loudly against the bottom of the metal basin.
The sound was jarring against the stillness of the morning.

She
turned back to face Jeremy, her eyes cold, as if she were looking right through
him. “You need to stay out of my way.”

Jeremy
laughed. He didn’t mean to. He certainly didn’t think her comment was funny,
not on the surface, but she spoke with such earnest conviction that Jeremy
couldn’t help himself. It was the wrong response.

He
tried to recover. “I’m sorry. Listen—”

“No.
You
listen, dumbass.” Nyx still stared at him, daring Jeremy to look
away. “You don’t have any idea what you’re getting into—what we do here; who we
are. But I know you. I read your file. The way I see things, you should already
be dead—twice.

“Instead
you got lucky. But what happens when your luck runs out?” Nyx folded her arms
across her chest. “So I don’t want your help; I don’t need your help. You’re
not even capable of helping. You’re useless. Which brings me back to rule number
one, plain and simple: Stay the hell out of my way.” She punched out each word,
like she was typing on a keyboard.

Maybe
she was right—maybe he was useless—but it was too early in the morning for
Jeremy to care one way or the other. He smirked instead. “Listen, Nyx, I just
want to know if there’s any cereal.”

Nyx
leaned back against the counter. “What was that? Was that you trying to be
funny or something? Because you sounded more like an asshole.” She turned away.
“And speak of the devil.”

“Morning,
kids,” the sleep-heavy voice came from over Jeremy’s shoulder. Talon was
walking toward the kitchen through the darkened half of the room. He wore the
same style cargo pants and combat boots as Nyx, but Talon’s shirt was
short-sleeved and green. A patch of hair at the back of his head stuck up at an
angle, and his eyes were still half-closed. In fact, Talon’s whole appearance
gave the impression that he just rolled out of bed, threw on his clothes, and
stepped out of his room in a single, uninterrupted motion.

As
he reached the kitchen, Nyx walked around the island in the opposite direction
and headed to her room. Talon ignored her. Instead, he stepped to the counter,
opened up one of the cabinets, and reached for a mug. “You want some coffee?”
He held the mug out to Jeremy.

Jeremy
shook his head. “No. No thanks.”

Talon
fumbled to fit the pod of coffee into the machine on the counter. “There’s, uh,
some juice and milk in the fridge, I guess. Help yourself, man.”

“Any
cereal?”

“Yeah.”
Talon turned back around; he pointed at the cabinet closest to the
refrigerator. “We got some Cheerios. Frosted Flakes, I think. Nyx eats that
oatmeal slop if you want that.”

Jeremy
got up, went to the cabinets, and found the box of Cheerios. He tried two other
cabinets, and on the third attempt he found the bowls.

Talon
opened a drawer and handed him a spoon. Jeremy took it and sat down at the
island, staring down at his bowl. Suddenly he wasn’t as hungry as he thought.
He pushed the cereal back and forth with his spoon. “What’s her problem
anyway?”

Talon
sipped at his coffee. “Who? Nyx? That’s just how she is, man. You gotta accept
it.”

“She’s
pissed or something, but she doesn’t even know me.”

“It
don’t matter.” Talon set his coffee mug down on the counter. “Listen, Nyx is a
professional. Period. Personal feelings about you, me, or anybody else—that
doesn’t matter to her. You give her a job and the job gets done. End of the
day, that’s what matters. It’s the only thing that matters.”

Jeremy
looked back down at his cereal. “Yeah, I guess—”

“She’s
been through it, man. Just like the rest of us. It’s not an excuse, but—” Talon
sipped at his coffee. “I’ve been here just over two years. Nyx has been here
more than ten. Think about that for a minute.”

Jeremy
stabbed his spoon back into the bowl of cereal, and Talon tipped up his mug,
finishing the coffee; he looked at the digital clock over the stove. “You
better get dressed. The major likes an early briefing.”

Jeremy
stood up. “When does it start?”

“It’s
scheduled for seven, but we’ve never started later than six thirty.”

Jeremy
looked over at the clock on the stove; it was five after six. “Great.” He
dropped his bowl and spoon in the sink, and started back for his room.

Twenty
minutes later, Jeremy had showered and shaved for the day. He found his version
of the uniform folded up in the second drawer of his dresser: black cargo
pants, thick black socks, and a royal-blue, short-sleeved compression shirt.
The combat boots were stacked inside the bottom of his closet.

Jeremy
got dressed and looked at himself in the mirror hanging from his door. His
first reaction was a sharp, biting laugh. He looked ridiculous, like some weird
cross between a frat boy at the gym and do-it-yourself cosplay gone wrong. It
wasn’t the uniform’s fault; it could work on somebody like Talon or Nyx, but
for Jeremy…the whole thing felt foreign and, at least in his mind, it looked
even worse.