Rise of Aen (13 page)

“Anything of note?” he asked nonchalantly, his mind occupied with other
things.

“Nothing sir, even after the cease-and-desist order on her investigation, not a trace of him even attempting to contact
them!”

“And she hasn’t continued on this quest of hers for the
truth?”

“No sir, all inquiries of
ceased.”

“Then close the file on the family and terminate all surveillance; been almost two years and it’s a dead end.” He said as he continued down the hall, leaving her to carry out his
orders.

Susan stood for a moment in quiet contemplation of those orders and thought of the human part of the whole equation. Part of her felt sorry for the poor man’s family and the trauma they had suffered, but she fully understood what was done was for the greater good. A familiar smile found its way back to her face as she rushed off to carry out the orders; bounding happily towards the elevator. At least the family wouldn’t have Uncle Sam looking over their shoulder anymore, she thought to herself as the doors
closed.

Bristol County, Massachusetts

The sun shone brilliantly in the New England sky as Sara sat on the grass by her father’s headstone. The frustration of the past day and a bit was finally breaking her down
emotionally.

“Dad, those fuckers won’t let me pursue this!” she said with streams of tears pouring from her eyes making her make up smear and run. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Do I just let them win and scare me
off?”

As usual, there was no response save for the birds chirping in the trees just beyond. The wind gusted slightly, but there was no divine intervention, no sign from
above.

“And Mom just told me to back off; she even got mad at me for going this far with it! She called it obsessive behaviour! Can you believe that?” Sara sniffled and pulled a tissue from her purse to dry her eyes, her emotions spent in her rant. She sat quietly and quelled her sobs, composing herself to
continue.

“It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to save you or something. It’s an impossible fight that I can’t win. I’m not strong enough to do this, Dad, I wish I was but I’m not. Maybe Mom is right, I should move on and live my life, but I just can’t walk away from a feeling this wrong! I wish you were here to help me, Dad. I miss you so damn
much!”

“Some things aren’t meant to
be.”

The voice startled her, making her jump to her feet and spin around to find its source. Off to her right, on a bench under an oak tree, sat a tall man, dressed in a modern grey suit. Her eyes quickly sized up this intruder into her weekly solace; he was very tall, seemed to tower even as he remained sitting. His skin was deeply tanned and he wore blacked-out sunglasses. His hair was long and dark but well-kept, and he wore a black overcoat. Everything about him seemed normal, except for the faint odor of ash emanating from him; it was as if he had been around something burning
recently.

“Excuse me,” she said in annoyance. “But could you please mind your own
business?”

“I apologize, child,” the man began as he slowly stood, “I came a long way to visit an old friend, only to be told he moved here.” He said motioning to her father’s
tombstone.

“You knew my
father?”

The man stopped a few steps away from the bench and looked back at Sara. A feeling of familiarity came over her. This stranger had evoked feelings deep inside her. Something about this man was out of place, something about the way he moved was strangely
familiar.

“I knew Aaron Foster well, my dear.” He said after a pause. “His loss is a great one; the world is lesser without his light in
it.”

“Yes, yes it is.” Sara replied, with tears welling up in her eyes, as she turned back to her father’s grave. Sadness once again gripped her as the only thoughts in her mind now were that of her departed
dad.

“I will leave you be,” the man said as he walked away. “There will be time for me to mourn him
later.”

Sara wiped her eyes. She began to feel sorry for being so rude to the man. Who was she to bear sole right to her father’s grave, she wondered? Turning to invite the man back, she surprisingly saw nothing but freshly cut grass and headstones. The cemetery was empty; the man had disappeared
completely!

“What the hell?” she muttered to herself as she wondered if she had seen a ghost or something. Sara was shaken, but composed herself and gathered her things to make her way home. Her thoughts began to replay the visit with the stranger as was her habit from work. Piece by piece she picked the strange few minutes apart as she tried to figure out who this man was. Sara had known most of her dad’s friends either throughout his life or in his passing and the stranger was not one she had met
before.

The drive home was long—the graveyard was located at the inner part of the city—to the suburbs as she carried on without a sound. The radio played her usual mix from her iPod, but the music played without her voice singing along. It was late afternoon when she pulled into the driveway of her mom’s place and Sara parked the car in her designated spot. She noted that the neighbors finally had their house renovations done, as the big white van was finally gone from across the street. She wondered to herself if there would be an invite to see the finished project as her key slipped in her door to unlock the basement suite
entrance.

As she settled into her suite, the strangeness of the day faded and she began her ongoing chore of cleaning up the mess of research papers and clippings from the day her dad had died. Slowly she was doing as she had been instructed to do and was ending her investigation. There were too many questions, too many loose ends that needed to be tied up for her to put her mind at
rest.

Yes, Sara was putting it all aside, but she was never going to let it rest. She would wait for the heat to die down and then a little longer to be sure before she would resume her queries. Time was on her side and for this she had learn that patience would be her best and most valuable ally. Someday she would have her answers; someday she would have closure from this horrific tragedy. But for now, she would play the part of the good girl and do as she was told. For
now.

Highbury, England

It had been raining for three straight days in the London suburb and Wilson and his team were soaked to the bone, but only the Major seemed to care. He and his team of hybrids had settled in for an ambush, after tips about a strange man fitting the last description of Subject 54 had filtered in to command. So he had the nine spread out in a net around the cottage at the outskirts of town and waited. Frustration began to grow in him; all he wanted was to be back at the base and in warm, dry
clothes.

It had been days of sorting through leads—most of which were bogus—and trying to decipher which ones held clues to the creature’s whereabouts. Sightings were many and random as he seemed to pop up all over the planet. One day he was in California, the next New Zealand, and then the next Brazil. There was no rhyme or reason for his movements, no pattern in which to learn anything about their new
foe.

Analysts poured over megabytes of data, trying to figure out anything, but came to a dead end. It was cunning, and seemed to be playing with them. In the Major’s opinion it was purposely jumping from place to place and letting itself be seen as to confuse
them.

“Pack Leader to Lead Dog,” he whispered into his collar microphone. “Any sign of the target?” He had to concentrate on the task at hand. A man of the target’s description had been seen repeatedly coming and going from this cottage. Days of surveillance had resulted in very little, but this morning they noticed movement inside so the decision to move in was made
quickly.

“Negative.” The voice droned back to him in a robotic tone. “No sign of target or any further movement inside. Shall we
breach?”

Avery thought for a moment, he was sick of being cold and wet. “Two, three and four; breach building and report when
secure.”

“Understood.” Growled three voices in return as the bushes rustled softly, and the camouflaged soldiers crept forward from their positions to slowly creep to the objective. The cottage was small, but isolated from the rest of the village and surrounded by large shrubberies so that any prying eyes of the neighbors would be shrouded. The only vantage point was from the hills in the distance. Major Wilson was positive he had all angles covered, going so far as to even recruiting Hardesty as a sniper for the mission, and placing him in the
hills.

“Three in position,” whispered a
voice.

“Two and four in
position.
”

“Breach in five,” Wilson spoke quietly. “Four, three, two,
BREACH!”

From his position a hundred meters away, Wilson could hear the door breaking like he was right there! Two flash-bang grenades were thrown in and discharged before the three soldiers rushed the interior. Wilson waited, hearing only the sound of movement over the radios as the team searched the interior. One at a time, the “men” reported
in.

“Four
clear.”

“Two
clear.”

“Three has a body, alive but barely. Not the
target.”

Wilson sat straighter and grabbed his battle display screen. “Give me eyes, three. Show me what you’ve
got.”

The screen was static for what seemed to be an eternity, but eventually a blurry image began to focus into view. Slowly, the Major could make out the shape of a body hung from the rafters by a rope tying its hands together. As the image cleared, he could make out the fatigues of a soldier through the haze and recognized the man before the beaten and bruised face came to view—Hardesty! Wilson’s head began to scan the hills frantically, looking for any sign of the
enemy.

“You look worried, Major.” A new and unknown voice piped up on the comm channel. “Is there something
wrong?”

“All units hold positions!” Wilson barked loudly. “Make sure you have cover, we’ve been made. Target has us
fixed!”

“Indeed. Take heed of this warning Avery Wilson. I have detailed files of your team and your families. I have been studying all of you and know more about you every day. Take this particular example. Finding him was relatively easy; stalking him and readying him for this moment was
enjoyable.”

“You bastard!” Wilson screamed. “For all his faults, Hardesty is still
a…”

“A piece of shit! He was a borderline serial killer given a gun and a uniform; his life will not be
missed!”

“No one deserves to be tortured like that.” Wilson was beginning to match his foe’s rage, but this time there was no banter back, just silence. “Did you run off, you
coward?”

In response to his challenge, Wilson watched through the helmet cam as Hardesty’s chest exploded—three rounds burst through it, spattering blood and flesh over the witnesses inside. A second after, three cracks resounded down from the hills as the sound of the rifle firing reached the
crew.

A feeling of helplessness overtook him. Above him, there was an angry man with a high-powered sniper rifle and anyone; including him, could be the next to fall at a moment’s notice! Wilson crouched as low as he could and remained still in the foliage, trying to keep from being seen from
above.

“Scary, isn’t it?” the voice crackled in his headset. “To have your life completely in the hands of someone else with no control over if you live or die is a horrible feeling. How helpless do you feel right now? Are you thinking about your wife right now? How much do you want to be in her arms right
now?”

Wilson stood and raised his rifle, looking through the scope frantically as he scanned the hills for his tormentor. The creature had pushed his buttons perfectly and now rage fuelled him as he sought to end the incessant chatter that was harassing
him.

Movement caught his eye from his left—Wilson spun quickly and aimed at the incoming target. A fraction of a moment before he fired, Avery noticed that it wasn’t the alien but one of the hybrid soldiers—0008 to be exact, their names and identities wiped away from them. Lowering his firearm, he waved the soldier to hurry into
cover.

In an instant, 0008’s head twitched violently as a bullet tore through it and expelled the grey matter of his brain on the trees beside him. The hybrid was dead before the sound of the gunshot began to echo off the surrounding hills. Once again, the Major raised his weapon and began to track a target again; this time he had a general direction in which to look as he followed the trajectory of the kill
shot.

“Oops.” The voice said with a hint of joyfulness. “Guess I’m getting pretty good with this thing. It was so nice of Hardesty to offer me his weapon before I rendered him
unconscious.”

“Show yourself asshole! Stop playing
games!”

“Now what fun would that be?” It snickered to him. “Was that one of them? One of the freaks you made with my blood? Taylor will be upset, it must have cost a small fortune to make him the perfect mindless
drone?”

Wilson saw a small flash up in the hills; his training kicked in as he thought he recognized the glint of sunlight off his adversary’s scope. He honed his aim in on the flash. “Got you!” he whispered as he pulled his
trigger.

As he did, pain seared in his side as the edge of a combat knife tore through his vest, covered in his blood. He felt a hand close in on his throat and felt himself be drawn
near.

“You missed,” the voice hissed in his
ear.