Awakening: The First Tale of the Trine (Trine Series Book 1) (13 page)

Once Tyler found a parking space in the hospital’s visitor lot, Jason finally said, “You still have terrible taste in music.”

Tyler grinned as he opened his door, lighting another cigarette as soon as he was free. “You can be D.J. on the way home, you edgy bastard. Play me some of those Disney princess hits you love.”

“Suzie is into pop music, I just tolerate it for her sake,” Jason snorted. “
I’m
the one who inherited the musical talent in the family, judging from your singing. I’ll play you some things later and help you join the modern world. Besides, you don’t have the hair to be so retro, even if your car is suitable,” he said, scrubbing his hand over Tyler’s scruffy short haircut. “You know where we’re going?”

“Yeah, Pops is in the ICU,” Tyler said. “Same place they had him just after the transplant. They had some special camera and brain wave monitoring thing on him yesterday, watching him continuously for any activity. They already told me it was just protocol though, and that we shouldn’t expect…well, we went ahead and planned to pull him off life support at noon today.”

Tyler led the way to the hospital’s main entrance, stopping outside the doors long enough to finish one more cigarette. Grinding the butt out in an overflowing ashtray, he nodded to Jason and led them up to the second floor. Stopping outside of a set of double doors, Tyler pressed the call button on a wall mounted intercom.

“Patient?” a tinny voice inquired.

“George Morrison,” Tyler responded.

“Relationship?”

“We’re his sons, Tyler and Jason Morrison. We’re here for his…appointment.”

A light turned green on a nearby card reader as the hydraulic doors creaked open for the two men. “They never asked my relationship before, I just told them who I was here to see. I guess they’re a bit stricter about visitors when it’s the last…” Tyler trailed off and walked into the ICU, leading Jason to a corner room.

A nurse was standing just outside of their father’s room, by a cart of fruit and bottles of juice. “Please, help yourself,” she said, motioning towards the cart. “Hospice provides it for the families.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, taking a bottle of orange juice. Tyler only nodded to the nurse, moving into the room to stand by his father’s bedside.

“I’ll be right outside. When you’re ready, just let me know. We’ll get the respiratory technician to remove the breathing tube, and I’ll administer the medicines to ease the transition,” the nurse told them.

Tyler raised a hand to her in acknowledgement. “The doctors made all the arrangements last night before I left,” he told Jason.

Jason stood on the side of the bed closest to the door. Taking his father’s hand, he stared down at him, listening to the click and hiss of the respirator. Tyler took his father’s other hand, and rubbed at the hair he had washed yesterday, brushing it back off of his father’s forehead.

“He looks good,” Jason said. “Peaceful.”

“He didn’t at first. He was having seizures after they got his heart restarted. They gave him a bunch of drugs to make it stop. The doc called them myoclonic seizures, and said that his prognosis was poor right from the start. The last couple of days they ran a bunch of tests, kept him under observation, and finally downgraded him to ‘no meaningful chance of recovery.’ I stood here for hours every day, waiting for some sign that he was still in there…anything, but…he’s gone.”

The pair stood over their father’s body silently for the next few minutes, each holding one of his hands. Jason spoke first, whispering, “Thank you. I know you tried. I wish I could have forgiven you. I always saw you, you know. At the graduations you weren’t invited too, outside my wedding I didn’t ask you to attend. I knew whose ‘plus one’ you were,” Jason chided, using his free hand to gently slap Tyler’s shoulder. “And I was glad. I didn’t want your pride in me…I wanted you to hate me as much as I did you. But you couldn’t…and I…thanks Pops. I hope mom’s waiting for you on the other side. I hope one day when I get there you’ll both be waiting for me.”

Seeing Tyler nod towards the door, Jason motioned to the nurse, who said, “I’ll get the respiratory tech. We’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Jason stood by the door to the room, watching as the hydraulic entrance to the ICU creaked open again across the hall to admit a pair of doctors. He saw a soot covered man in a fireman’s  jacket walk in behind them, and raised an eyebrow as the figure flashed a gleaming smile at him. He pushed the door to their father’s room partially closed, blocking out the strange visitor, and turned back to his brother.

Tyler knelt down by the bedside and cradled his father’s hand to his cheek. “I love you old timer,” he said softly. “I guess I was too young to remember the accident, and what you and Jason went through. Maybe I would have come back to you regardless. All I know is that when I needed someone to teach me how to be a man, you were there. And when I grew up, and didn’t need a role model, something amazing happened. You became my best friend. I wish I could have helped you with that cross you bore…but now it’s time to lay it down.” Rubbing his father’s head again, he said, “I’ll remember this face forever. One day I’ll tell my children about the Pops that I wish they could have known. Jason and I will remember, and we’ll make you proud.”

Tyler put his father’s hand down as the nurse and the respiratory technician came into the room. He and Jason stood by the foot of the bed, watching as the pair silently unhooked the breathing apparatus, and administered the drugs through the IV that would help subdue the last agonal breaths of the dying man. The respiratory technician left the room immediately, but the nurse moved to stand near the door, a silent witness to the two young men’s tragedy.

Jason and Tyler moved back to their positions by the bedside, each taking up one of their father’s hands. Tyler placed a palm on his father’s chest, feeling the heart pound under his fingertips, harsh and irregular. The nurse had silenced the alarms on the bedside telemetry, but the numbers showed his pulse climbing as his blood pressure dropped, the screen flashing in alarm.

Over the next few minutes, the two men both wept quietly as their father’s shallow gasps slowed, then stopped. Tyler kept his hand on his father’s chest, feeling his heartbeat gallop, desperate for the air that was no longer coming. The heartbeat became erratic under his hand, then began to fade, drawing a harsh sob from Tyler. After a few moments he could no longer feel even a faint flicker of pulse, and as they watched they saw the color begin to drain from their father’s cheeks as his blood stilled. The screens recording his vitals zeroed out, flat lining as his visage paled. His eyes never opened during the final moments of his life.

Tyler knelt down by the bedside, clutching the still warm hand to his cheek. “Oh God,” he sobbed. “It hurts. It hurts so…fucking…much. God, I love you Pops,” he gasped.

Jason stood stoically by the bedside, swiping at his nose and eyes with a fistful of tissue. He turned as the door swung open, expecting to see the nurse leaving the room. Instead, the grimy soot covered fireman he had seen a few minutes ago stood in the doorway, smiling radiantly with his arms spread wide.

“It’s rapturous!” the filthy fireman proclaimed, as he began to applaud. “The energy in this room, simply rapturous!”

“Sir!” the nurse demanded, grabbing the fireman’s arm. “You can’t be in here, get out!” She jerked his arm ineffectually, and without any change in expression, the fireman threw her from the room. The nurse skidded several feet across the floor, shocked, before screaming, “Call security!”

Jason threw his tissues down and confronted the fireman as the door slammed shut behind him, untouched. Tyler struggled to his feet on the other side of the bed. The brothers’ roars of outrage overlapped. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in here?”

Tyler advanced to the foot of the bed, tear-blind and enraged. “There is going to be another corpse in here in about five seconds, you son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here!”

Jason stopped his brother with an outstretched arm, then backed them both a step away. The fireman was wide-eyed, his dead stare at odds with the grin stretching his cheeks wide. “You’re quite right, my young friend!” the man squealed. “There
is
going to be another corpse in here soon. You see,” he said, his tone flattening and becoming threatening. “I only need
one
of you. The question then is….which one?”

As he spoke these words, the man raised his hands, causing Jason to stagger back into Tyler as flames exploded from the man’s body. The very air in the room ignited, fire roaring across the walls, the machinery, and the blanket covered body on the bed. The windows in the room exploded from the immense surge of heat, showering glass onto the meditation garden in the courtyard below as a huge fireball erupted from the room.

Tyler threw his hands up instinctively to cover his face, screaming as Jason fell at his feet. He had heard the initial roar as the superheated air rushed past him, but his scream produced
no sound
. Jason lay by his feet, with his legs sprawled out. Tyler saw with horror that from the knees down Jason’s legs were incinerated, the flesh flaking away to cinders as the fire consumed them. Jason’s head was turned up towards Tyler, agony wrought clearly across his features, but his gaping mouth produced…nothing.

Tyler realized that the flames were coalescing and surging around a dome surrounding him, and at least partially, his brother on the floor. The silence inside the sphere was absolute, and as he drug his brother closer to him, Jason’s mutilated lower legs were instantly extinguished. Tyler’s jaw worked frantically, as he tried to swallow an awful bubbling in his mouth. His vision became blurry as well, as the tears he had shed obscured his eyes.

The fireman who had burst into the room only moments ago stood in the midst of the inferno unscathed, staring at the perfect sphere surrounding the two men. He beamed at them, seeming overjoyed at what he was witnessing. Tyler could see him mouth the word “You!” as he stretched out his hand.

Tyler could also see something else, something that stretched his overtaxed consciousness to the point of breaking. The fireman was only a few feet away, at the foot of his father’s bed. The raging flames had already consumed the sheets covering his fathers’ body, and the flames danced across the corpse. The flesh smoked, but had not burned, and in a single smooth motion, George Morrison’s body sat straight up in the bed.

Tyler, Jason, and the fireman all stared in open-mouthed shock as the singed body stood. Their father’s dark eyes had opened, and seemed filled with their own flickering fury. The revenant turned its gaze towards its sons, huddled at its feet, and smiled down on them. His smile conveyed all the emotions only a parent can have for a child. Emotions so powerful that they had somehow called a dead man back, if only for a few brief moments, to stand as their guardian one last time.

The corpse of George Morrison took one grim, stiff step forward before its hand lashed out, gripping the fireman by the throat. Pulling the smaller man to his still smoking body, he took one more determined step, crushing the fireman in his embrace. Whatever force of will was animating the shell wavered, and the corpse shook violently as it lurched towards the shattered window. The fireman hammered ineffectually at the arms encircling him, as with a great heave, George Morrison threw the man down into the courtyard dozens of feet below.

The flames consuming the room vanished instantly, as their father’s body tumbled to the floor, pale and lifeless. Tyler only had time to see that soft smile still beaming at him from his Pops, before the lack of air inside the vacuum he had somehow created stole his consciousness.

…

In his cell halfway across the state, Zion clicked his tongue and shook his head in irritation.
What is it with these humans and throwing themselves out of windows? It doesn’t matter. I only needed to know who he was. My new friends will bring them all to me soon enough. But what power! If only the father had not been so far gone…to will your soul back from the aether, if only for a moment…
Marveling at what he had witnessed, Zion lay back on the cot in his cell.

The Abbadon will come in force soon. And when they do, these humans and I will lay waste to them. They took everything from me, and I…
Zion began to tremble at the memories of his capture. Images of what those creatures had done to his wife and daughter brought waves of physical pain. For centuries he had writhed in torment, begging his people to finish the extermination of these horrors. When his people refused to act, he knew what he would have to do.
That boy’s father defied death itself, and I will do no less for the murder of my child. I will watch every one of them die screaming. Every. Last. One.

Friday, August 3
rd
16:21 EST

Director Spencer, FBI Headquarters, Greensboro, N.C.

“Good afternoon, Mr. President, gentlemen,” Director Spencer said, as he sat down in front of the video conferencing equipment.

“Director Spencer, thank you for all of your hard work in assisting with the rescue and recovery at Moses Cone yesterday, and your team’s efforts to find out from our ‘visitors’ the nature of our current crises,” President Clark said. There was a constant flurry of activity in the Situation Room, as aides rushed around bringing updates. “We asked that you take some time to sit down with us directly to discuss the secondary attacks that have occurred over the last twenty-four hours. What information has your team been able to gather from the local authorities, and from their own investigation?”

“Mr. President, as you know, a local fire chief, Mr. Samuel Dufresne, is suspected of having set fire to a nearby nightclub last night. The initial investigation seems to indicate that this same man appeared at the hospital at Chapel Hill around noon today, made his way into the intensive care unit, and then started a fire in one of the rooms. The patient in the room was just being taken off of life support, and officially was already considered deceased. His two sons were present at his bedside. Both of them were critically injured in the fire. The suspect, Samuel Dufresne, was killed. Unfortunately, we have been unable to ascertain any sort of motive for Mr. Dufresne’s actions. I did speak with all three of our ‘visitors’ about this situation. The subject named Zion indicated that this insectoid race, the Abbadon, have ways of controlling humans and using them to carry out their will.”

President Clark raised a hand to stop the Director. “This Zion is claiming that some of our people are being controlled by these aliens, to carry out attacks?”

“He is, sir. I discussed this information with the other two visitors, Oraki, who indicated that it could be possible. However, they also posited that
their
kind have the same ability, and this Oraki warned me that it could be one of their race causing people to act out of character. At this time, we have no clear information on whether Samuel Dufresne was acting independently, or as an agent of some other force. What we
do
know,” Director Spencer said sternly. “Is that this Zion was telling us the truth about the race of creatures called the Abbadon.”

“Every news outlet has been running the footage of that creature that attacked Sergeant Jeffries constantly for the last six hours. What updates do you have?” President Clark asked.

“We have secured the body of the insect, and brought it to our lab here for dissection. Our technicians are already at work examining the body and its equipment. The attack seems to have been targeted at Sergeant Jeffries, who was badly injured. He was initially transported to a local trauma center, where upon exam he was surprisingly found to be in stable condition.”

“Stable?” President Clark asked incredulously. “We all watched that video, Director. That creature appeared to practically tear him apart.”

“Yes, the doctors were stunned. Sergeant Jeffries was blinded in the attack, and most of his left hand was amputated. He also suffered significant injuries to his arms and abdomen, but all of the wounds were found to be scarred over and well on their way to healing by the time he arrived at the hospital.” Director Spencer swiped at his tablet, bringing up another file before continuing. “As you’re aware, there was prior speculation following Sergeant Jeffries military service that he may be…unusually resilient. He is currently being transported to our medical facility here, for his protection.”

“Good, Director. Now, speaking of unusually resilient, has your team learned anything more from the survivor of the fire at the nightclub last night, this Katie Dufresne?” President Clark asked.

“Unfortunately, our agents and technicians are stretched thin at this moment, with the number of incidents we have had to deal with. Ms. Dufresne has regained consciousness, and for now we have assured her that she is receiving medical care for injuries sustained in the fire. She has been cooperative, for the most part. Sergeant Jeffries is being transported here as we speak for further testing, and for protection during his rehabilitation.”

“How is the Sergeant doing? Has he given any statements to anyone?” someone asked from the Situation Room.

Director Spencer could not see who spoke, but said, “He is blind, and is unaware of where he is being transported at this time. He has been sedated for now, for his comfort. The injuries he suffered should have been fatal. Even with his unusual…durability, he was still in extreme pain. Once here, we will be able to do more to find out how he survived, and why he has been targeted by each of these aliens.”

President Clark raised his hand again, silencing the commotion in the Situation Room. “With Ms. Dufresne and Sergeant Jeffries under protection, let’s turn our attention to these Abbadon creatures…”

“If I may, Mr. President?” Director Spencer interrupted. “There was one more issue with the victims of these attacks. Our IT team only moments ago managed to gather some other footage you will want to see. I’m uploading it to you now.”

The Situation Room was silent as Scott Lansfield received the file. Director Spencer sat quietly as the President and his Cabinet reviewed the footage from the fire in the intensive care unit at Chapel Hill. “This footage was gathered by a camera attached to a machine monitoring the brain function of the patient, Mr. George Morrison. I was told that this type of monitoring is standard for patients suspected of having suffered brain damage. It was quite helpful, as there are normally no cameras in patient rooms,” Director Spencer advised.

Director Spencer reviewed the file on his tablet as it was played in the Situation Room. While the camera was positioned to focus on the patient, its angle was wide enough to capture the two young men in the frame. “There was no audio available, unfortunately,” Director Spencer said.

After a few minutes, the President turned back to the Director. “Explain what we just witnessed,” he said sternly.

“I’m not sure I can,” Director Spencer replied. “We’ve spoken with the nurse who was present, and other witnesses at Chapel Hill. What we know is that the patient, George Morrison, was taken off life support in the presence of his two sons, Jason and Tyler Morrison. We know that the suspect in the arsons, Samuel Dufresne, appeared in the room. Somehow he ignited the entire room, as you witnessed, and somehow…Mr. President, we just don’t know anything more than what you saw. One of the young men, Tyler Morrison, was able to hold the fire away from both he and his brother. George Morrison then appears to have risen from his bed and killed the suspect, Samuel Dufresne. George Morrison was, and is, dead.”

The President sat quietly for a moment, then whispered to his chief of staff, Scott Lansfield. “These aliens, be it the ones you have in custody, or these Abbadon, are targeting specific individuals,” the President finally said. “This Zion you spoke with indicated that these individuals would be targeted because they could be threats, due to…powers…they may possess, correct?”

“Yes, Mr. President. In this case, we are not sure which of the Morrison family would have been the target,” Director Spencer said. “Due to this uncertainty, local police have been assigned to the young man named Jason Morrison, who is in critical condition at Chapel Hill. He suffered severe burns to his lower extremities and required dual amputations below the knees. The younger of the pair, Tyler Morrison, suffered injuries as well. His were…unusual.”

“What do you mean?” the President asked.

“He suffered two collapsed lungs, which required chest tubes to be placed, and some cardiac damage. He was also suffering from an odd form of exposure. The doctors indicated he appeared to have been taken from normal air pressure, placed into a complete vacuum, and then been slammed back into normal air pressure immediately.”

“He was exposed…to a
vacuum
?” the President stammered. “All right. Director Spencer, can either of those young men be brought to your lab as well?”

“The younger one, Tyler Morrison, is stable enough for transport, sir. Jason Morrison, due to his burns and the loss of limbs will need to remain at Chapel Hill. Local police have been assigned to provide guard for him around the clock,” Director Spencer replied.

“Have Tyler Morrison brought to your lab as well. Director, we are sending you more staff from Washington immediately to supplement your team. Do whatever you can to find out why these individuals are manifesting these abilities. We need to know why these aliens came yesterday, and what their true intentions are with our people. Have your interviews with them provided any new information?” the President demanded.

“The one named Zion maintains that he came to warn us about these Abbadon creatures, and has repeatedly offered logistical support in fighting them. He insists that they will appear in force, soon, and has advised that we ready ourselves for a full scale invasion.”

“Has he given you any indication where, or how this might occur?” President Clark asked.

“He claims not to know. However, he says that we should go to a full scale war footing, and be prepared for an invasion on our own soil. The other subjects, Oraki, agreed that these Abbadon may well come against us. Orak has stated that his people, the Elvahn, will come to our aid once they are aware of what is happening here on Earth. Unfortunately, he also advised that due to the explosion yesterday upon their arrival, their ability to assist us may be delayed.”

President Clark muted his end of the video conference, while he and his Cabinet conferred. Director Spencer waited patiently, until the President returned. “Director, I will be addressing the nation shortly. We will be activating every unit of every branch of our military and be standing by for any assault that may be forthcoming. We will prepare to defend our land against any incursion by these creatures. For your part, have your team continue interviewing the aliens you have in custody. Proceed with running your tests on Sergeant Jeffries, Katie Dufresne, and Tyler Morrison.” Motioning to his chief of staff, the President continued. “Contact Scott with any updates, and prepare a full report on any findings for a meeting you two can coordinate for tomorrow. General Hubbard will be in touch with you shortly as well to discuss the disposition of our forces in your area. For now Director, get back to work. We will talk soon.”

Flipping off the display, the President ended the conference. Director Spencer turned his television to the local news channel in preparation for the President’s upcoming announcements. There was no regular programming today, every channel had suspended their normal broadcasting schedule to replay the footage of Delmont Jeffries casting down the alien insect.

Between airings, the newscasters speculated on what the President would say to the world, while cutting to footage of the National Guard all across the country mobilizing to keep order, as citizens swarmed to grab groceries, gas, and ammunition.
Well…
the Director mused
…at least aliens are good for the economy. This is going to be bigger than Black Friday…or this might be the blackest Friday of all time…