ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) (19 page)

In
theory, her problem was a simple one: Once you take off your anchor, how will
you remember to put it back on again? As for the solution, it would prove more
difficult. At first, Lara thought she could write herself a note, but then she
realized there were too many variables. A note could be lost. In her panic she
might not see it.

So
instead Lara began her new morning routine. Every day for the next two weeks
she did the same thing: wake-up at four, go to the bathroom, see the locket on
the mirror, and put it on. There was no danger—at least not yet. She was still
wearing her bracelet and ring to bed, but by day 11, when she was putting the
locket around her neck before she could even think about what she was doing,
Lara knew she was on to something.

Then
a new thought: What if she freaked herself out when she first woke up? Any sign
of panic could ruin the whole routine. So she started her affirmations:
My
name is Lara Miller, and it will all be fine.

She
said it over and over in her head for a week, every time using the same slow,
commanding voice:
My name is Lara Miller, and it will all be fine.

It
was the last thing she said before she went to sleep and it was the first thing
she made herself say when she woke up:
My name is Lara Miller, and it will
all be fine.

After
four weeks, there was nothing left to do but try it. She pushed the table in
her room in front of the door—one last barricade to slow her escape in the
morning if she woke up and none of it worked—and she wrote herself a letter
explaining everything and left it on the table. Then she put her ring on top of
the note. One last failsafe, just in case.

She
hung her locket on the bathroom mirror like she had been doing for the last month.
Then she got into bed and turned off the lights. She waited until she was
completely exhausted, blinking in and out of sleep, and then she took off her
bracelet and tossed it on top of her alarm clock. She thought, at the least,
her hand might hit the bracelet when she turned off the alarm. That was the
last thing she remembered.

The
next thing Lara remembered, she was staring at herself in the bathroom mirror,
holding her locket, and she felt…good. It wasn’t a perfect system—she knew that
much. There were gaps—variables she would need to address in the future—but
still, it was better than what she had before. That was four years ago.

Lara
looked across the bed at Ellison, his back facing her as he pulled the sheets
tighter around his body. The major wasn’t perfect either—she knew that too—but
he was the answer to at least one of her problems.

Lara
was always concerned about what she would do in an emergency at night. What if
a siren went off? What then? Her routine would be lost, and so would she, but
not with Ellison. If nothing else, he would take care of her. He would get her
out of harm’s way and back to Reah Labs. She would be safe with him, even
without her anchors. Lara trusted him that much.

Ellison
mumbled from his side of the bed, “We have time. Come back to bed.”

He
reached back, groping for Lara’s hand, but before they could touch Lara stood
up from the bed and walked away.

She
refused to touch Ellison while she was wearing her anchors. It was a
self-imposed restriction that the major resented, but Lara refused to
compromise. In her opinion, it wasn’t worth the risk. It was a lesson she
learned from experience. Did Ellison have secrets? Lara was sure he did, and
that was exactly how she wanted it. She had seen too much in her short life—too
many dark thoughts and impulsive urges. Knowing someone like that was seldom
worth it.

Lara
dressed in her skirt, blouse, and jacket from yesterday.

She
turned back to the bed. “I need to go, and you need to wake up. We’re going to
be late.”

Ellison
answered with a grunt.

When
Lara walked out of the room, he was still in bed. She went quickly down the
hallway to the elevator and up two floors.

If
Lara had actually cared about the opinions of the soldiers or the other
scientists from Reah Labs, she might have been embarrassed to be seen in her
clothes from yesterday. As it was, she didn’t care. Most of them already knew
about her sleeping arrangements, so why did it matter? Even so, as she reached
the door to her room, Lara felt a sense of relief at making the brief trek
without passing another soul in the hallway.

She
walked into her room and opened her closet. It was filled with skirts and
jackets in various shades of blue, black, and gray. She thumbed through the
hangers.

“Morning,
love.”

Lara
spun around. “What the hell?”

Hayden
stood inside her room, dragging on his cigarette. “Sorry about that. Maybe I
should come through the door and add to your reputation instead?”

Lara
bit her tongue; she kept her voice even. “What do you want, Ghost?”

“What
do I want or why am I here?” Hayden’s lip curled as he pulled the cigarette
from his mouth; he didn’t wait for Lara to answer. “I’m here because we’ve got
a change of orders from Reah. Seems they’re interested in your newest recruit.”

Lara’s
face twisted. “Why?”

“Some
connection between the kid and his father, some scientist they misplaced.”

Lara
shook her head. “G-Force’s father is dead. He died in the Philadelphia hospital
bombings.”

Hayden
shrugged. “I couldn’t care less. I’m telling you the orders.” He dragged on his
cigarette and looked at her. “You able to get anything from him yet?”

Lara’s
eyes went cold. She understood the implication—it had followed her since
Kingman. When she answered, her voice held an edge. “No. I told you, he’s
spiked.”

“Keep
trying then, at least for now.” Hayden flicked the ash from the end of his
cigarette. “Reah’s sending in Heatsink and Squid. You know ‘em?”

Lara
shook her head. “Who’d they put in charge?”

Hayden
poked himself in the chest. “Still me.”

“Then
keep those two on a leash. I’m just going to need time—”

Hayden
dragged on his cigarette. “We all get what we get. Best I can do, love.”

Hayden
turned and walked toward the wall, his body becoming translucent as he stepped
through. Then Hayden was gone, and Lara was left alone.

Jeremy
knew he was still asleep. He knew his eyes were closed and he was lying in his
bed, but he was also strangely conscious, aware of the room around him—the
quiet and the stillness and the dark. Something had roused him from a deeper
sleep. A noise, maybe? A feeling? It didn’t matter.

“Jeremy.”
A loud voice—familiar—filled the room. Then a blinding flash of light from
behind his eyelids, and just like that Jeremy was awake. He was more than
awake. He was up, on his feet, dressed, and standing in the emergency room of
his dad’s hospital. He could see the beige walls, and the beds with white
sheets filled with patients, and the pale fluorescent lighting. He could smell
the stale, citrus cleanser they used on the floors. And he could see his dad
standing in front of him, staring into the distance.

It
was all somehow real—
impossible
, he knew—but real. It was strange and
familiar, both at the same time. It was like he had stood there a thousand
times, only he couldn’t remember when…not entirely.

“Dad?”

“Hey,
bud,” Jonathan Cross answered without turning to look at his son. “How’s it
going?”

“Dad!
This is— There’s so much I need—”

“Listen,
Jeremy, I don’t have much time,” Jonathan Cross still didn’t turn, but his
voice changed; it was hard now. “What are you still doing at Fort Blaney? I
told you to leave.”

Jeremy
could feel his own smile fade. “I don’t know. It’s not that easy to leave, I
guess. I mean, I can’t just walk out—”

“Why
not? I saw what you’re capable of, Jeremy. No one on that base can stop you
now.”

Jeremy
laughed. “I don’t know about that, Dad. The explosives they stuck in my head
might disagree with you.”

“You
think I don’t know about that too?” Jonathan’s voice was thinner now—urgent.
“You control gravity, Jeremy. Crush the damn chip and walk yourself out the
front door.”

“I
can’t.” Jeremy lowered his eyes. “I can’t do that. I can’t control my powers
like that. I don’t know how.”

“That’s
an excuse. I already told you: You make your choice and then you live with it.
That’s how this works. That’s how it’s always worked. Your power—your
ability—it’s there when you need it. And you know that too. So what’s your
real
problem?”

“I
don’t… They’re helping people here, Dad. If I stay, I can help too. Isn’t that
what you were trying to do when—”

“Who
are you helping, Jeremy? Who?” Jonathan still didn’t move; he stared straight
ahead. “You don’t know these people—not like I do. I’m telling you now, the
only people they want to help are themselves. They want money, and power, and
control, and they will use you to get it. And when they can’t use you anymore,
then they’ll kill you. That’s what this place is. It’s a factory, and you need
to leave. Today.”

Jeremy
looked up at his dad. “You don’t know anything about it. You don’t—”

“I
know enough. I know you need to leave—”

“You’re
dead!” Jeremy finally screamed, and all at once the anger and hurt and
regret—all of it poured out. Jeremy hated himself for saying it, but he didn’t
stop. He couldn’t. “You’re dead, dad. You don’t
know
anything about this
place because you’re dead. You left mom and you left me, and this is nothing
but my sick dream because I’m so desperate to talk to you again—to get your
approval—but even here…you’re dead.”

“No,
bud.” Jonathan Cross turned his head and finally looked Jeremy in the eye. “I’m
not.”

Suddenly
there was noise and motion and life in the emergency room. From his right,
Jeremy heard a voice yell, “For the Red Moon!” and next to him, his dad
whispered, “Jeremy.”

Then
came the explosion.

*****

Jeremy
bolted out of the bed and onto his feet, slapping his hands against his chest.
His breathing was ragged, but he was all right. He knew he wasn’t just torn
apart in an explosion—the same blast that killed his dad. Whatever else he
doubted, he was certain of that.

Jeremy
tried to slow himself down. “It was just a dream. Only a dream.” Even as he
said it, Jeremy knew that was a lie. Maybe it
was
a dream, but it was
also something more. He was certain of that too.

A
pulsing alarm filled the room, and neon blue numbers flashed on the video
screen. Five o’clock, time to wake up.

Jeremy
waved his hand in front of the screen, and the buzzing stopped. He stumbled to
his right, into the bathroom. He showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth, and
by the time he was done, he was feeling better. Maybe it was just a dream. He
could try and make himself believe that.

He
walked out of the bathroom and got dressed. He wore another blue compression
shirt paired with black cargo pants and boots. Apparently, like it or not, this
would be his uniform.

Finally
he stepped out of the room and walked toward the kitchen. Just like yesterday,
Nyx was already there, leaning against the counter with a white bowl in one
hand and a spoon in the other. She only raised her eyes, shoveling another
spoonful of the oatmeal into her mouth.

Jeremy
smiled. “Morning.”

No
answer.

He
took a glass from one of the cabinets, filled it halfway with orange juice, and
drank it down, still staring at Nyx.

Jeremy
shook his head. “So that’s it? Even after yesterday? I stood up for you, you
know.”

“No
one asked you to.” Nyx turned away, dropping her bowl and spoon into the sink.

“Are
you kidding me?” Jeremy’s face twisted. Maybe he and Nyx would never be best
friends—Jeremy could concede as much—but this? She seemed angrier today than
before. It didn’t make sense.

Nyx
walked out of the kitchen and back toward her room without another word.

Jeremy
turned to watch her go. He didn’t get it—couldn’t make himself understand. When
they won the game yesterday—no, when Nyx won the game for them—it was like she
was a different person. She was happy—excited. Then Ellison crushed all that.
He ripped it away from her, and Jeremy was the one who stepped up. He was the
one who made it stop.

Another
door slid open, and Talon stumbled into the Rec Room. He was rubbing his hand
up and down along the back of his head, yawning and still trying to wake
himself up. He spotted Nyx just as she reached her door.

Talon
plastered on a fake smile. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Nyx looked
over at him and gave him the finger. Then she stepped inside her room.

Talon
walked into the kitchen, nodding and laughing at Jeremy. “Morning.”

“I
don’t get her problem.” Jeremy poured another glass of orange juice. “I stood
up for her yesterday when she needed it, and now she’s angry at me, like I did
something wrong.”

Talon
reached into one of the cabinets, fumbling with a box of coffee pods. “Well,
she’s right in a way. You did do something wrong.”

“What?”
Jeremy felt his stomach twist over.

Talon
turned around to look at him. “You don’t get it, I understand that, but
yesterday wasn’t good—not for any of us.”

“You
saw how Ellison was yesterday. You heard how he talked to her. I’m not just
going to stand there and watch that!” Jeremy could hear the anger in his own
voice.

Talon
shrugged. “That’s how he is, but we still have to live with the guy. More than
that, we have to take orders from him. We all just gotta find a way to make it
work.”

Talon
turned back to the coffee machine. “You got frustrated yesterday, and so you
said something. It felt good at the time, I’m sure, but whose life did you make
better? Yours? Hers? Mine?” Talon shook his head. “No, you did the opposite,
man. You’ll see. Like I said, it wasn’t good.”

Jeremy
stood up. Even if he knew what to say, he could tell the words would be a waste
of time. Talon had resigned himself. Apparently Nyx had too. They were both
willing to live with it Jeremy couldn’t.

He
turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Talon
called after him, “Don’t worry. It was just one day, right?”

Jeremy
kept walking. He stopped in front of the second door on the left, the door to
Gauntlet’s room. He raised his hand, ready to knock, but before he could start,
the steel door slid aside. Gauntlet filled the empty doorframe.

Jeremy
stood his ground, staring up at the armored face. “I don’t want to get trapped
here.”

Gauntlet
lifted his chin, and his words rumbled from behind his mask: “Too late.”

A
wave of panic crashed over Jeremy. What was that supposed to mean? Too late for
what?

“Everyone
at the table! Now!” Ellison’s voice thundered from behind him, and Jeremy
turned to look. He was just in time to see Ellison step out of the elevator and
march to the table, his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. Lara followed
behind him. She was a picture of calm in contrast to Ellison’s storm, but
somehow she was too perfect—too controlled. It looked like an act.

Gauntlet
had said before that a trap only worked if you don’t see the danger. Jeremy
understood that now. Ellison was far more dangerous than he realized, and
yesterday, Jeremy tipped his hand. Any advantage he could have hoped for with
the major was gone now. Is that what Gauntlet meant by “too late”?

Gauntlet
stepped forward, brushing past Jeremy and advancing toward the table. Jeremy
followed.

Ellison
was already in his chair, and he wasn’t waiting for anyone; he started just as
Nyx stepped out of her room. “We have a full day, and we need to get started.
This morning we’re going to run individual research training. The baseline
numbers from yesterday were way off from what we expected, especially from
G-Force.” Ellison looked directly at Jeremy now. “You need to figure things out
and stop wasting everyone’s time. This isn’t some kind of daycare.”

Jeremy
looked away, staring up at the far corner of the room. He didn’t trust himself
to speak. Regardless of yesterday, whether it was a mistake or not, there was
no reason to antagonize the major now. Still, Ellison was waiting for an
answer.

Jeremy
grit his teeth and looked back. “Yes, sir.”

Ellison
seemed to take the answer as some small victory; he continued, “This afternoon,
all organized training is canceled. There was an incident last night on base
that resulted in the death of one of our men—a Sergeant Marcus Mandel. A memorial
service is planned at 1300 hours if anyone wishes to attend. Otherwise,
training rooms will be available for optional free exercise. I expect everyone
to take advantage of that opportunity. Are there any questions?”

Ellison
didn’t wait for an answer. He was already standing up from the table and
retreating for the elevator. Everyone else followed.

A
quick ride up the elevator, a walk down the hallway, and just like that, Jeremy
stood in the same room as yesterday. Dr. Langer was already there, waiting for
him. The whole thing felt routine.

Langer
greeted him with a wide smile. “All right, G, let’s start right in. Up on the
docket for today is individual research training. Yesterday was baseline. On a
baseline day, everyone goes back to square one and works their way up as far as
they can go. IRT’s mean we start where you already are and try to push you even
farther, but, since you’re starting at zero, there’s really nothing to build
on—” Langer caught himself, “What I mean is you’re already starting at a level
zero. You don’t have the skill to, uh… You know what, just forget about it.”
Langer turned back to his screen and punched a few keys. “Let’s just—let’s
calibrate the sensors. Go ahead and hit the bag one time. No gravity.”

Jeremy
stepped forward, turning his shoulders and raising both of his fists. He threw
a weak punch into the black shield. Then he turned to look at Langer.

Langer
tapped the keys again on the computer without looking up. “Good. That’s
perfect, G. I’m registering zero gravitational fluctuation, which is exactly
what we wanted.”

Jeremy
could understand what Langer was trying to do. It was the scientist’s way of
offering some words of encouragement, but the end result was something else.
Langer might have been saying, “Good job,” but Jeremy heard something else: his
own voice reminding him he was a first-class screw-up.

Langer
looked up from his computer screen. “Okay. I think we’re ready. Let’s raise the
bar now. I want you to hit the shield again, this time at plus gravity.”

Jeremy
took a deep breath.

His
dad said that his power would be there when he needed it. Maybe it would, but
that answer wasn’t good enough—not anymore. Jeremy could ignore his ability and
let it go to waste, or he could start to work—turn himself into something more.
That choice was easy.

Jeremy
squared his shoulders and took another breath. Then he threw a heavy right
cross into the center of the bag.

As
soon as it landed, Langer clapped his hands. “Yes!”