Awakening: The First Tale of the Trine (Trine Series Book 1) (8 page)

Thursday, August 2
nd
21:14 EST.

Fire Chief Samuel Dufresne, Greensboro, N.C.

Chief Dufresne hung up his coat as he entered his office. He needed to update some files before he headed home for the evening, but his hand was aching fiercely. It had continued throbbing all the way back to the station, and as he sat down at his desk, he debated hitting the showers to see if that might ease the pain. He was certainly filthy from the rescue operations today, but after leaning back in his chair, he wasn’t sure if he could find the energy to go wash and change.

He typed in his password, then flinched violently as the screen went dark briefly. His desktop image loaded quickly, but for an instant he had thought the reflection in the screen had been someone else. He rubbed at his hair and chuckled.
Nope, hair is still there and I haven’t grown pointy ears,
he thought.

He frowned slightly as he realized that the office seemed to be getting darker, and looked up to the overhead light. There was an odd halo effect around the light, and his field of vision rapidly narrowed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as a wave of nausea rolled over him, then pushed his chair back and bent forward with his head between his knees. He barely managed to yell for help before the pain in his hand flared, and his consciousness slipped away.

Feet pounded on the stairs, and one of the firemen poked his head into the office door.

“You okay, Chief? Thought I heard you yell.”

“I’m fine,” Chief Dufresne said as his head reappeared from under his desk. “Just dropped my pen, and banged my head on the desk. I’m wiped out after everything today, I think I’ll head home in a minute.”

“All right, Chief, be safe out there,” the fireman said, leaving the office.

Chief Dufresne’s face went slack as he pulled up his Facebook page on his computer. “Katie, Katie, Katie…” he mumbled, searching through his friends. “Tch, not friends with your own daughter? Chief, I am disappointed…” he mumbled to himself.

Going to the search field, he typed in “Katie Dufresne,” quickly locating her profile. It was public, as was the link to her band’s page, “Katie and the Friendzoned Five.” Checking the band’s schedule, a smile spread across the Chief’s face. They were playing tonight at the Nowhere Else Tavern in Greensboro, and her post showed that she had checked in there just an hour ago. She had invited any and all to come out and see her band perform.

“I think I will take you up on that, dear girl,” Chief Dufresne mumbled. Putting his filthy jacket back on, he climbed into his county vehicle. Still mumbling to himself, he punched in the address Katie had listed for the show on his G.P.S., and set out to add another aether sensitive human to his roster.

Half an hour later, he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. Turning off the ignition, he sat in the darkness at the end of the line of shops, staring intently at his hands. A pale blue flame sprang to life in his palms, causing shadows to dance over the grin that stretched across his weathered features.

Of course it’s fire,
Zion thought, in his cell miles away.
Talent will always find an outlet. Now…let’s see if it runs in the family.

Chief Dufresne stepped out of his vehicle and surveyed the mall. Most of the businesses were closed, but the lot was filled with vehicles. The Nowhere Else Tavern was positioned near the end of the line of shops, and a fairly large crowd milled around outside. The various groups of young people gathered outside gawked at the Chief as he made his way towards the door, some of the younger ones even trying to hide their cigarettes.

“Whose dad is that?” he heard them whisper, or his favorite. “Ah, somebody’s getting grounded, we got a daddy incoming.”

A large man stood leaning against the entryway, his words to Chief Dufresne lost in a deafening blast of guitar feedback. “What?” the Chief yelled.

“You hear officially, or you off the clock?” the bouncer repeated, staring at the badges on Chief Dufresne’s filthy coat.

“Off the clock,” the Chief replied. “I came to see my daughter play.”

“Five bucks cover,” the bouncer said, as he inked up a stamper. “I don’t need to see any ID, you’re good,” he said, collecting the Chief’s money and stamping his hand. “Have fun, and let me know if any of the kids give you any trouble.”

“Oh, I have no doubt this crowd is nothing but respectful to its elders,” the Chief grinned, moving into the dimly lit bar. Years of smoking and sweaty bodies had left the place with a peculiar stale odor that was not entirely unpleasant. There were a surprising amount of people inside, and it took him several minutes to push his way near the stage in the back. He was stopped about ten feet away from his target by a solid wall of bodies, predominantly young men who had crowded together near the feet of the object of their shared desire.

The woman at the front of the stage had just finished tuning her guitar. She stood about five and a half feet, but looked taller with her combat boots, tight black jeans and tank top that clung to her frame. She was wearing woven leather sleeves that wrapped around the back of her hands, and covered each forearm. Her dark hair hung loose to her shoulders, and she brushed it out of her eyes as she stepped up to her microphone.

“I want to thank all of you for coming out tonight!” she yelled to applause and cat-calls from her audience. “I’m Katie, and these boys are my Friendzone!” she proclaimed, motioning to the band gathered around her before bringing her pick down on a thunderous chord.

The crowd gathered around Chief Dufresne exploded into motion as the song began, jostling him along with them. He casually swatted away anyone who bumped into him, soon clearing a small space around himself amongst the audience.

The Chief closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of her voice. He could feel her power coursing through the room. “She has no idea what she’s doing,” he mumbled as he swayed with her voice. “But I do love her enthusiasm.”

Her voice spanned octaves, rising to high clear notes that were almost physically painful before diving into a deep, guttural roar:

My country is a lie;

You get a glimpse,

then it fades.

We’re all told that we can fly!

Our dreams are wasted,

we all are faceless.

We’re promised we can buy;

A cure for a soul that dies.

It withers behind a desk,

or in factories possessed,

knowing its meaningless.

Cherish the rage,

that brings meaning to your day.

We’re all told

to let it slip away.

Toe the line,

You were born to buy.

We’re more than your bottom line.

As the song ended the entire building shook with thunderous applause and roars of approval. Katie wiped her sweat damp hair back from her forehead, hooking it over her ear as she looked around the audience. “Thanks everyone!” she said, taking a drink from a nearby water bottle. “Hey, I see a lot of familiar faces out there tonight, and some new ones too. We’re going to take a break for a moment while the Friendzone tunes up for the next song, we’ll be right back!”

She propped her guitar against her amp, then hopped down from the stage as the crowd of young men parted respectfully for her. She stomped directly over to Chief Dufresne, stopping just out of arms reach. “What the hell are you doing here, Sam?” she demanded.

“Katie, that’s no way to speak to your daddy,” Chief Dufresne said, spreading his arms. “Give me a hug.”

Katie jumped back, as a circle formed around the pair. “Are you fucking drunk?” she hissed. “I haven’t seen you in ten years. Ten. Years. You remember? At the courthouse for the child support hearing?”

Katie watched her father’s face struggle through a range of emotions. “You are drunk, aren’t you? You’d have to be, to show your face to me. You fuck my mom once two decades ago, walk out of her life, and stagger in here looking for hugs. Get the
fuck
out of here! Get the fuck out of my life! Forget you even fucking know me!”

Chief Dufresne’s face sagged during the verbal assault, then hardened. “Katie, I’ve made mistakes. Please, you’re my daughter, and I wanted to tell you…”

“Tell me what, you slimy fucking bastard? That you have cancer? Good, go fucking die. I’m not part of your life, and I. Don’t. Care.”

Katie turned to walk back to the stage. Chief Dufresne leaped forward, grabbing her left forearm with a victorious grin. The smile faltered as he realized that the skin on her arm was completely covered by the leather straps she was wearing. Before he could shift his grip, Katie stepped to the side, then smashed the heel of her boot into his left knee.

The Chief’s leg gave out as his kneecap shifted, dropping him down to one knee. Katie jerked her left arm free, then spun, landing a kick on the Chief’s jaw that sent him crashing to the floor. Cheering erupted from the gathered audience, as the bouncer pushed his way through the crowd.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years. Remember this until the day you finally suck your last filthy breath. You have no daughter.” Katie spit as she took a step back, while Chief Dufresne waved a hand feebly in her direction.

“Katie, this guy causing you trouble?” the bouncer asked as he pushed his way through the crowd.

“He used to, Mitch,” Katie replied. “I’m over it. Can you get him out of here?”

“Gladly. Come on, old man.” Mitch grabbed Chief Dufresne by the arm, jerking him to his feet. “Hell, Katie, I’m gonna put you to work on the stage and at the door, you keep this up.” Mitch chuckled.

The Chief had a knot forming on the side of his head, but appeared to come to his senses as he was staggered toward the door. “Always the hard way with these humans,” he grimaced.

“You say something, old man?” Mitch asked, shoving him out the front door.

“Yes,” the Chief replied, turning back to the bouncer as he straightened his jacket. “Your shoes are on fire.”

“What the hell are you…
OH SHIT!
” Mitch screeched as the flames dancing around the laces of his tennis shoes erupted, spreading up his jeans and shirt in a flash before enveloping his hair. Staggering backwards into the club, he crashed into a billboard covered in flyers for upcoming shows, igniting it as well.

Pulling his shirt up to cover his face, Chief Dufresne concentrated on the flame he had created. Mitch thrashed and rolled in the entryway, screaming and spreading the fire across the carpet just inside. The billboard roared into an inferno, flames licking the ceiling then raging across the interior of the club, spreading across the entire expanse and down the walls in only seconds.

A tangle of screaming bodies came pouring out of the entrance, sweeping the Chief away from the door as smoke began to obscure the area. Letting the mass of struggling humanity carry him out into the parking lot, he ducked his head and rushed back to his truck. He needed to be away from here before anyone who might recognize him arrived.

This encounter had not gone as well as he had hoped, but fortunately this area was what the humans called a ‘target rich environment.’ He had already felt another drain in the aether, somewhere to the east. Joining the flow of traffic rushing away from the blazing tavern, he focused his senses on the powerful signal. As he pulled away, he paused only briefly to yank the vehicle’s onboard GPS unit and tracking device from the dash, tossing it into the street.

…

Back in his cell at the FBI’s headquarters, Zion’s face was grim. He had not foreseen the Dufresne’s father-daughter relationship causing such a problem, but he was confident that his new friends would provide him another opportunity to bring her into the fold very soon.

Friday, August 3rd, 06:32 EST.

President Christopher Clark, Washington D.C.

President Clark was sitting in the annex to the Situation Room, sipping coffee as he reviewed the reports from yesterday’s recovery efforts. “At least the money we’ve sunk into FEMA is paying some dividends,” he sighed, glancing over at Scott. “Have you slept at all?”

“No sir. Unfortunately, we’ve had other reports coming in from Director Spencer, in addition to the updates on the recovery efforts. There have been a number of troubling developments in the area around Greensboro overnight.”

“All right, tell me about them,” the President ordered.

“The joint chiefs of staff are already reviewing the information as well, and will be sending their recommendations shortly. First, a renowned surgeon named Dr. Franklin Roman, who was on site assisting the wounded yesterday, died last night. Initial reports indicate that it was likely of natural causes, but an autopsy will be conducted immediately due to his presence at ground zero. We will keep you updated on any findings regarding his passing.”

“Next,” Scott continued “Director Spencer reports that his agents were able to secure a variety of surveillance and cell phone footage showing that one of the first responders to the hospital explosion, a local fire chief named Samuel Dufresne, was involved in a fatal fire soon after leaving the disaster area last night.”

“He was killed in a fire? That’s unfortunate but…” President Clark trailed off as Scott raised a hand.

“No sir, I’m sorry, let me clarify,” Scott said. “I’ve compiled the footage that the FBI team recovered for your review. Chief Dufresne appears to have left the disaster area after his unit assisted in the recovery efforts yesterday, then gone to a local nightclub in the Greensboro area. While there, reports indicate he was in a confrontation with a woman identified as his biological daughter, Katie Dufresne. The Chief was escorted out of the nightclub, and then appears to have set fire to the building. After the blaze was contained, it was found that over a dozen people were killed, and several dozen others were treated for injuries.”

“Have the police found out why he would do such a thing? Was this some sort of domestic issue, or….?” President Clark asked, aghast.

“Sir, Chief Dufresne has not yet been apprehended. A manhunt is underway, but at this time his whereabouts are unknown. We have no idea what may be motivating him.” Passing the President a tablet, Scott continued. “Now this is where it gets truly strange.”

The President raised an eyebrow as he took the tablet. Reviewing the report, he said, “So the daughter, this Katie Dufresne, she survived the fire?”

“She did sir, though the medical personnel treating her are at a loss as to explain
how
. After the blaze was extinguished, she was found in the rubble amongst the charred remains of other victims. She was unconscious, presumably from smoke inhalation, and was taken to a local trauma unit for evaluation.”

“It’s a miracle…and I don’t believe in miracles,” President Clark said. “Do we have any idea how she survived?”

“Her family was interviewed at the hospital. When the subject was found, she had no clothing, and no hair…anywhere. Additionally, her finger and toe nails had been burned down to the nail bed. The plate, the dead portion, was incinerated. The family assured the doctors that when they last saw the subject, she did in fact have hair, leading the medical team to believe that the flames consumed all of her non-living tissue, while the rest…”

“They think that her living tissue is fire proof?” President Clark asked incredulously. “Did they test it themselves?”

“The family was unwilling to allow such tests,” Scott said. “You mentioned the word ‘miracle,’ which they have been using liberally. The subject was being treated for inhalation injuries and exhaustion. At the time of this report, she was still unconscious. Director Spencer, as you can see in his brief, had a variety of concerns. In order to address those, once he was able to verify that the subject was medically stable, he had her moved.”

“That’s a good idea, for her security and that of the hospital. We don’t need any more incidents at medical facilities while we sort this out. What is Director Spencer planning?”

“As you know, the FBI headquarters in Greensboro is across the street from the county’s jail. They share an underground access tunnel, allowing them to use the solitary holding cells, laboratories, and medical facilities. The aliens in custody are being held there, and Director Spencer is having Ms. Dufresne transferred there for observation and testing.”

“How did the family respond to this?” the President asked.

“Not well, at first. Once it was explained that this transfer was for her safety the mother acquiesced. I spoke with Director Spencer earlier, and we are treating the subject as though she is in protective custody. Guards have been assigned to her, and he assured me that she will be given excellent care. Once she is able, we will see if she is agreeable to some testing so we can try to figure out how she survived, and what this means in light of our current…predicament.”

“What do you think, Scott? Did Director Spencer give you any other feedback, or any other information on how this all ties together? It has to be related to the appearance of these creatures yesterday.”

“The Director agrees, and as you suggested yesterday, he has expanded the quarantine zone around the hospital while the rescue efforts are ongoing. General Hubbard is now on-site as well, coordinating the National Guard. More troops are being brought in hourly, and we should have several thousand soldiers and their hardware in the area by noon today.” Scott pulled up the disposition of the inbound forces for the President to review.

“How are the locals taking it? Surely they’ve noticed such a large military presence amassing. Are they asking questions?” President Clark asked.

“The local population has been incredibly supportive, and is quite pleased by the influx of soldiers. We’ve explained that they are there to provide relief assistance and prevent looting in the area,” Scott said.

“Looting? Has there been a problem with that?”

“No, actually the civilian population has been incredibly well-behaved. In order to help justify such a large military presence some civil unrest was manufactured. Nothing dramatic,” Scott said as the President scowled. “Just a few bricks thrown through windows, things like that, for the evening news’ reels.”

“I despise those kinds of tactics,” President Clark snarled. “I’ll talk to the Pentagon about this later. For now, find this fire chief, and have Director Spencer keep us updated on the status of this Dufresne woman. And have the Director get more information from these damned aliens! Not this pseudo-religious swill about souls and aether they’ve been spewing, but some concrete facts about what the hell they are doing here! I’m not concerned with this garbage about a threat from some nebulous ‘Abbadon’ race. We need to know what the three that are here right now intend, and why everything is going to hell around them!”