Chapter 3
THE HOME TEAM
The sound of light rain pit-patted The SUV as they huddled in silence inside. They were parked at a control safe house preparing for an emergency rescue mission. Over the past several days six Center teams were killed. Center in North America was exposed and short on manpower. Jake and William were drafted at the last minute with a changed assignment.
They fingered their automatic weapons, peering through the dark at each side of the single glowing light above the faded orange metal door in the middle of a long brick building with no windows.
The door light blinked once and went out. They silently exited the vehicle at that expected signal from their inside person. They were prepared to rush the building as soon as the door opened. They edged toward the sides of the single door. The light went on again.
A voice from a distance called to them. Jake's voice. William recognized it at once. Jake yelled. "Trap, run."
Day 3 was one of those days. Jake got up. Another bad dream. Two hours of sleep. They were getting downright scary. This one was puzzling too. How was I in two places at once? He thought he had shook it off the strangeness. His mouth tasted horrible. The next several actions showed him he was lying to himself. Again.
He cut himself shaving, shot a blurb of toothpaste past his toothbrush, splashing it on the mirror. He cleaned it up. Things were almost normal.Exiting the bathroom, he tripped over his feet. His shoulder struck the door jamb hard, twisting him into a face slap with the door, before he dive bombed the floor. His head hurt. A fleeting fearful thought of aneurysm jumped out of his head when his head bounced off the floor tiles. The sounds, the thumps of him hitting the wall, then flopping to the floor, caused William to yell,"You all right?"
Cursing and growling to himself, about himself, Jake broke from his patterned routine of self bitching, to yell back,"No, I'm dead."
Reaching the kitchen, William was already eating."Bacon is on the stove. Should be crispy enough for you. Fix yourself some eggs and join me."
Flushed and still growling, Jake did. He was thinking wryly about another day of joy in paradise. But didn't say it. His mouth was turned down.
William spoke through a mouth full of bacon. "You look angry."
"Yup"
"Get over it. You've lots to do today."
"More than you know."Jake gently turned over a slightly burned egg with distaste. Over his shoulder he offered his first brief smile of the morning. "You're going to be busy too."
"I am?"
"Yup. You're analyzing data."
"On what? Oh. We probably shouldn't talk about it should we?"
"We have to.We can talk, in general.I want you to add any specific variables the research has missed."
"Damn. More paperwork. I hate that. You know that you're ruining my day, again, right?"
"Yup. I know."
"I wonder what else is going to go wrong." William shook his head and looked up to the ceiling, as if imploring the Universe to offer a sign. The lights flickered and went off.
William cheered. "Yippee, no data! This is good."
Emergency lights came on. Jake handed him several papers. "It's all printed out." He gave William another brief smile before adding "Not good if it means we're gonna get attacked." The normal lights returned.
Center broadcast through the ear plugs: "No disaster. A tech turned off the wrong switch. No signs any attack is pending."
"No attack. Good news."I'll grab my gun anyway." The sudden thought and action made William feel better.
Breakfast finished, Jake and William sat down on the couch. They wondered aloud to each other what the Centers would come up with after the startling revelations from Center 1 on Day 2. It boggled Jake's mind that they were in touch with two centers and one was fifty years in the future. He was aware he should be used to the sudden changes by now.There were enough of them. Change was constant, and a bother. The thought brought an image of Winnie the Pooh. Jake went to his computer desk. William stayed on the couch, reading.
They concentrated on their ongoing study of the data from their hard copies. Jake made copious notes in silence. William jotted down a word here and there on his copy. After an hour, William got up, stretched and headed to the kitchen.
Jake saw him head out. He sat up, stretching a little himself. He set his pen down and looked at the summary he was editing.He felt strange. He couldn't identify or quantify it. Was it hunger? What was it? Bathroom. No, he considered. It does feels like a need, he thought. A basic need. But what? Jake looked at the blank HDTV. His thoughts turned further inward.
William strolled into the TV room munching on a prime rib sandwich. He lovingly carried a fragrant steamingbowl of chili in his other hand. He asked Jake "How are the calculations coming?" There was no response.
The TV room was empty. He shrugged, set the bowl and sandwich down beside his work and turned the HDTV on. He watched the soap opera popularly known as the daily news. Every day more innocents were killed in an increasing variety of bizarre ways. Every week there were new scandals. Business, politics, or a family scandal.Any kind of organization or group of people was vulnerable to disruption. Some days it felt like they were all represented. The news spread doubts, betrayals, truth, lies and misconceptions with equal standing.
What a crazy world, William thought. His head moved in disgust and denial. The news never talked about what was really going on. That thought brought a sense of urgency. He shook it off. No news organization knew about the secret war for the future of the world. Not yet. Center would have their own scattered details on the latest attacks within thirty minutes. The rest of the world saw bits and pieces like an old time strip show, but no one could put the pieces together for a full-on frontal view.It's probably for the best, he nodded to himself.
When the news moved on to the multiple problems popping up in the sports world, William shut the TV off. William said "no" aloud as he turned it off. Sport is the battle to win, lose, or draw. That is what gets his attention. The individual performances of athletes and teams should be the focus. Not their off field problems. Spare me governance, he said to himself.
William munched on his chili and sandwich in the peaceful silence of the room. After washing up his dishes, William returned to his calculations with more determination than was usual. Moments later he was surprised when Jake asked, "How are your numbers coming?"
"Pretty good. Yours?"
"An hour, maybe three, and I'll be done."
"Great!" William laughed to himself as he tossed Jake one of his own lines. "Focus. Get back to work." Jake was constantly telling him to focus and get to work. He eyed Jake in the moment he said it, noting something seemed different about Jake. He couldn't quite pin it down. He seemed more solid, more decisive. More together. Had he lost weight? Was his look a little harder than usual? He dismissed his observations as just a weird perception, listening for Jake's response.
"Okay."
William was disappointed in the short answer, but they both returned to their work.
The queasy strangeness in his head slid through him several times through the day. He called them headaches. They were happening more often this week than he experienced in past years.The dreams seemed eerily real too. Over the years Jake had faced several less intense experiences. They were like this. Never had they reached this level of intensity. He never told anyone. The episodes had passed quickly with no lingering effect, except to his memory. Nothing showed up in annual examinations to pose concern. He couldn't pin point any reason.
This time it was different. Jake senseda second shift accompanying the pain. A funny, frizzy, internal shift took place. It was like being dizzy, but not. His head did hurt. It was the slight off kilter sensation that bothered him. A doctor might have diagnosed a small stroke or ordered bed rest and more specialized studies. The doctor would have been wrong. This wasn't disease related, or a medical "incident". It was a new awareness.
The previously unnoticed fog firm
ly lodged in a recess within Jake's brain lifted one, tiny, gauzy layer, causing him to say "Good morning, Mael." Jake knew a lot more as he said that simple greeting. A golden flow of information threads with strange new data slithered into his brain. More important to him, he knew there was more information still hiding within that recess. Could he hold onto any of it? It was damned useful intel.
***END TRANSMISSIONS***
**END TRANSMISSION**
[/0137219/AZZ4?] A final set of eyes, not human, watched the unit's notice appear with disbelief.