ORIGINS

Book one of The Infusion Series

By Steven Tandberg

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many thanks to all who helped with the editing process, most especially my copy editor, Gary Smailes of Bubblecow, and my proof reader, Aunt Kath…of Alaska.

The characters, events, and many of the locations are fictitious. Any similarity is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2012 Steven Tandberg

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0984700528

ISBN-13: 978-0984700523

DEDICATION

To Chrystal: for putting up with my crazy ideas.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1 PAIN BEGETS PLEASURE

2 TURNS OF FATE

3 MUCOUS MEMBRANES

4 VITALS

5 CONSCIOUSNESS

6 RISKS AND BENEFITS

7 DREAMS AND MEMORIES

8 ALIGNMENT

9 PUBLICITY

10 DISCOVERY

11 CAPACITATION

12 WORDS AND EMOTIONS

13 EXCESSIVE FORCE

14 WEAKNESS

15 REVELATIONS AND CONTACTS

16 SOPAPILLAS AND THE RUSSIAN

17 ISOLATION

18 BLOOD AND AIR

19 TWO

20 INDENTURED SERVITUDE

21 PREPARATIONS

22 INFILTRATION

23 FUTURES

1 Pain begets pleasure

My new life started the day Jeff Steadman punched me in the face. My nasal bones gave way like tissue paper to his well-swung fist. The strike dropped me to my knees and blood immediately started to flow freely from my newly deformed nose. Jeff and his goons scattered off when they saw the blood pooling on the ground, as I knew they would, the cowards. My nose throbbed with pain and my vision began to blur as I hunched over the concrete sidewalk trying to avoid getting blood on my shoes and clothes.

My friends Hallon and Aedan ran from inside the school after observing the attack in disbelief. I had left them only a moment earlier to wait for my dad outside the school when the mob of disgruntled teenagers had approached me. My friends slung their arms under my shoulders and dragged me toward the school nurse, leaving a long trail of bloodstained sidewalk behind me.

“Coyle! What happened?” the school nurse said as my friends and I stumbled through the door.

I didn’t have an opportunity to respond because she quickly applied painful pressure to my nose with a wad of paper towels. She then rushed me to the bathroom. The small sink she pushed me over immediately began to fill with blood.

“Keep pressure on it. It will stop in a few minutes.” She mumbled something about the school being a zoo and left to start filling out the nurse’s note.

The blood continued to stream down my face like a leaky faucet. I squeezed my nostrils shut as hard as I could through the pain. I leaned my head back, thinking it would help, but the blood filled my throat causing me to cough violently, spattering the walls of the small bathroom in front of me with red droplets of blood. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes had passed. The red stream continued to flow. Nurse Cameron returned with a clipboard and pen in hand.

“What the..?” Her mouth gaped open and the clipboard fell to the floor with a clack.

“I’m sorry, I coughed.” The room and I were quite a sight. Blood coated my face and neck like I had torn through an animal with my bare teeth and shaken the bloody carcass.

“Oh my! Oh my! Coyle, what the? I need to get some gauze, sit down on the toilet; don’t want you passing out on me.” She shuffled through the cabinet in the hallway and retrieved a pack of 4x4 square gauze.

No longer over the sink, the blood streamed down my clothes and onto the floor. I saw the panic in Nurse Cameron’s eyes as she painstakingly attempted to pack my nose with the gauze. After thoroughly jamming them in, she hurriedly dialed 911 and then my father, her voice shaken.

When the EMTs arrived, my entire shirt was soaked with blood. I had begun to feel lightheaded and was unable to stand unaided. They placed me on a gurney and immediately stuck me with two needles, one in each arm. I didn’t really feel the pain. Lights seemed dampened and sound muffled. A weakness started to creep over my body and my limbs went limp.

As the ambulance raced down the road, a warm sensation spread over my entire body. Two large bags of saline hung from hooks above me. I watched as they rhythmically swayed back and forth with each turn of the ambulance. The ride down the street toward Englewood Memorial Hospital put me in an odd, retrospective mood. A slew of unpredictable events had brought me to this point. My junior year at Englewood High School was mostly uneventful, until the last few weeks. That was when I fell hard for Jamie Anderson, a fellow junior in my honors biology class, which led me to this bloody situation.

Jamie was 5’ 5”, a brunette, with misty blue eyes. She was the lacrosse team captain and had a trim athletic build. Her only imperfection, if you could call it that, was a small scar above her right eyebrow, the result of a wayward lacrosse stick. It would be hard not to be popular with those characteristics. Most people would let it all go straight to their heads. And frankly, Jamie did, at least during her freshman year. The ‘cool’ crowd, recognizing her elite potential, gobbled her up and made her one of their own. Back then, I would have been lucky to make eye contact with her, and if I did, she would laugh, roll her eyes, or both. All of the make-out driven upperclassmen fought to be the first with her. There were rumors of things she did, but in high school, the halls are rife with rumors about guys ‘getting some’.

Something changed during sophomore year. After a weeklong absence from school, she no longer acted like all of the other pretentious girls. A complete 180° turn around. She became kind to everyone, and especially me. Ironically, her popularity soared despite her new attitude. Then, surprisingly she joined the lacrosse team instead of following her friends into cheerleading.

My crush started after our assignment on a joint project on the discovery of deoxyribonucleic acid or DNA. I had volunteered to prepare the project alone. Because of my mom, I knew DNA backwards and forwards and could have made the presentation in my sleep. Jamie also spoke up, so our teacher assigned us both to it. I objected initially but Aedan gave me the look of, ‘What the?’ so I dropped my pride. He wasn’t going to let me throw away the opportunity to work with a girl like her. Class ended and she caught me as I left the classroom.

“Coyle, wait for me.”

“Uh, sure,” I said and held the door open.

“Where are you headed? Can we talk?”

“Just headed to Cushing.”

“Cushing? What’s that?”

“The skate park off of Eastman.”

“Is that far from here? Can I come with you? I would really like to plan how to tackle this project.”

“Don’t you have class?”

“I can miss, Mr. Donnelly will let us girls do whatever we want.” She winked.

“It’s a couple miles, you up for the walk?” Aedan gave me another look from across the hall. “Shouldn’t take too long,” I added.

“I’m up for it.” She adjusted the straps on her backpack and started down the hallway.

“Hey, wait up!” I jogged after her.

She wasn’t kidding about wanting to plan the project. After only two blocks she had the entire project outlined and our respective duties divided. She meant business.

“How about you come over this weekend?”

“What? The assignment isn’t due for another two months. What’s the rush?” I said as we crossed Hampden Ave at the crosswalk in front of the hospital.

“The more we procrastinate, the worse it will be. Besides, don’t you want to spend more time with…”

Tires screeched out from my right. A flash of yellow advanced in my peripheral vision. Instinctively, I dove toward the sidewalk grabbing Jamie on my way down. A large moving truck hadn’t seen us until the last moment and attempted to stop. We landed in a heap, Jamie on top of me. My diaphragm instantly seized and air refused to enter my lungs. I rolled over writhing in pain.

“Coyle, are you okay?”

Not wanting to look like a wuss, I stood up and attempted to speak. A mouse like squeak emanated from my vocal cords.

“I’ll get a doctor!” said a bystander, ready to run into the hospital.

“No!” I eked out, gaining my breath. “Please don’t. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

I turned to the street. My board was splintered into hundreds of pieces and strewn about the intersection behind the jerk that kept going after realizing he hadn’t killed us.

Jamie’s arms wrapped around my waist. “You saved my life, Coyle. Thank you.” She squeezed softly. I responded in turn, holding her close. Her heart beat steadily against my chest. While I didn’t want to end this moment because it felt good, it was also slightly awkward holding a girl I hardly knew.

“Uh, no problem. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Looks like you and your skateboard took the brunt of it. Sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. That was freakin’ close.” My adrenaline level finally started to taper and my hands began to shake. I stuffed them in my pockets.

“I think I’ll call my dad. I kinda want to go home now. Is that okay?”

“Oh, of course, I understand.” I picked up her backpack and handed it to her.

“I’d really like to see you this weekend, Coyle.”

She retrieved her phone and called her dad. He arrived in only a few minutes pulling up to the curb.

“Do you want a ride?” she asked.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I live close to here.”

“Suit yourself.” As she stepped into the car, she turned to me. “Thanks again, Coyle. I owe you.” She smiled and winked. “See you on Saturday? Does 3 p.m. work?”

“I’ll be there.”

She stepped into the car and was off. I didn’t catch sight of her dad before they sped away.

I gathered my backpack, the larger pieces of my destroyed skateboard and walked home. I had a serious bounce in my step. I’d just saved a cute girl’s life and she’d invited me over. Life was looking up for this scrawny skater.

I made sure to arrive on time on Saturday. The Andersons had a large, stately two-story home with expansive front and back yards. The backyard bordered the Cherry Hills Country Club, one of the more exclusive clubs in the Denver metro area. As I walked up to the front door, I passed their five-car garage and noticed an old white Ford Mustang with two broad blue stripes running over the hood. I had parked my own car a few blocks away on Downing Street, as it would definitely be an eyesore in this neighborhood. I felt completely out of place walking up to such an impressive home. My father and I had lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the west side of Englewood ever since my mom died.

My mother had been the real breadwinner in my family. She was a physician and researcher at the University of Colorado Hospital. She’d died four years ago in a lab accident on the fourth floor of the research building. We were told someone had left a gas line opened and when my mom came in that morning the entire lab was full with the flammable gas. With a flip of a switch the entire floor was incinerated. I never saw her body; the coroner and mortician told us that it was entirely too burned to identify, or even present in a casket. Instead, we had her cremated and spread her ashes over Longs Peak, her favorite mountain.

My mother was Irish American just like my dad. They met in Boston while she attended medical school at Boston University. My dad, a student at Boston College, had worked at one of the concession stands at the Conte Forum, the hockey arena at BC. Both my parents were somewhat crazed hockey fans. My dad once confided in me that tucked in his dorm closet had been a shrine to Cam Neely, the incredibly talented Boston Bruins power forward. My Mom had enough jerseys in her closet to equip an entire team.

My parents had never missed a game, particularly the BC vs. BU games, which were always raucous affairs. One night after Boston College trampled Boston University 3 – 0, the jeering inside the arena turned into a snowball fight outside the arena. Both my Dad and Mom had joined their respective sides wielding icy projectiles. My dad had been a pitcher in high school and against his better judgment, had wound up a heater. He wasn’t aiming at anyone in particular; however, the hard packed snowball hit my mom square on the nose, breaking it instantly. When my dad had seen the result of his poor judgment, he had ran to her, which was quite a mistake because the BU students had seen it as a direct assault and proceeded to pelt him with hundreds of snowballs. He had eventually reached my Mom, who hunched over on the ground trying to avoid getting blood on her clothes. Then he had given her his handkerchief, lifted her up and carried her to his car, her friends in tow. I think she must have been in a serious daze to allow a stranger who had just broken her nose to carry her to his car. Mom claimed she didn’t see that he had thrown it, but dad claims otherwise. Along with her two friends, my dad drove her to the hospital, apologizing the entire way.

When my dad used to tell the story, he would always state that it was love at first sight, despite my mom’s disheveled and bloody look. My dad had stayed with her at the hospital and given her a ride home after her discharge. My mother was the forgiving type and only required that he take her out to dinner sometime to make amends. They dated for one year and married the next.

My mom would use her slightly crooked nose as a metaphor for life. “Some things in life may bring temporary pain but in the end can bring enduring joy. We should not shrink from pain, but meet it head, or face, on.” Easier said than done for sure, but my mom was a living example.

My mother was the glue that held our family together. My older brother Greg needed her, I needed her, and my father needed her most. His world collapsed around him after she died, losing faith in everything. He stopped attending the church he had forcefully made all us attend. He severed nearly all of our family relationships, which unfortunately included his relationship with my brother Greg and me. Greg resented him for it; and when he turned eighteen, he promptly left home. To this day they have not spoken. Greg lives in Fort Collins now and works at a coffee shop. He would be proud of me, going to a girl’s house and all. He always was the one getting the girls, much to my mother’s chagrin.

While at Jamie’s home, I met her family. Her mom looked just like Jamie, or I guess the other way around. Jamie had obviously inherited her eyes. Eyes that garnered staring at their exquisiteness, which I awkwardly caught myself doing, so I looked away. She had on what appeared to be expensive jewelry and high heels. Despite looking like the haughty type who was all too common in this area, she was genuinely kind. Her father, a pastor at the local evangelical congregation, welcomed me to their home graciously.

“Coyle, welcome, and thank you,” he said as he shook my hand earnestly. I guess he had heard all about what had happened. Pastor Anderson was probably around six feet tall with a slender frame. His dark black hair sprinkled with gray, coupled with the wrinkles around his eyes made him look much older than Mrs. Anderson. He had a kind face though, and his eyes were calming.

“How are you doing? Did you recover okay?”

“I’m fine, it was no biggie. You have a beautiful home,” I said as I entered. Stepping into the foyer, a large ornate chandelier hung from the tall vaulted ceiling and a wide dark wood staircase rose directly in front of me. How could a pastor afford such a home? “God’s work” must be profitable.

They brought me to a study just off the foyer where Jamie had set up a work area on a large table. There were textbooks and two tablet computers on a large wood table in the middle. Two floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled up the two adjoining walls. There was an interesting mix of religious books and scientific texts. In the corner was a large L-shaped desk with an elegant leather chair behind it. With him being a pastor and all, I thought it odd that there were no crosses or other religious symbols in the room.

“You can use this one,” said Jamie as she pushed one of the tablets my way. I instantly recognized the latest generation iPad. How can they afford all of this?

As we reiterated what we each would cover, Mr. Anderson entered the study.

“What is your project on?” he inquired.

“The history of the discovery of DNA,” I answered, not knowing that it would send Mr. Anderson into a drawn out lecture on that very subject.

“Ah! One of my favorite subjects! Dr. Miescher, the Swiss physician, was the first to isolate it out of bandages that contained pus and he named it nuclein, later, Dr. Levene discovered the basic structure of the nucleotide. DNA’s role as hereditary material was then confirmed by Hershey and Chase in 1943…,” he continued.

I marveled at his seemingly deep knowledge of DNA structure, history and particularly his knowledge of the advancement of gene therapy. This piqued my interest since my mother’s area of research had focused on novel gene therapies for treating a variety of cancers.

“My mom researched gene therapies at the University of Colorado.”

“Oh really? Where does she work now?” he asked.

“She died four years ago in a lab accident,” I stated matter-of-factly. I used to get upset every time I would say it but time has dulled the sting.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ...” he stumbled.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” I interrupted.

A long pause ensued. I could tell Jamie and her dad felt more awkward than I did with the silence. Their eyes drifted to the floor. I had become accustomed to this response, it happened every time I brought up my mom’s death.

“Really, my family is fine. We all miss her, she worked so hard on her research and meant so much to us, but she would want us to be strong and move on,” I said, breaking the silence.

Mr. Anderson looked down again as if deep in thought and then slowly recited,

“Unable are the Loved to die

For Love is Immortality,

Nay, it is Deity—

Unable they that love—to die

For Love reforms Vitality

Into Divinity.

Emily Dickinson. One of my favorite poems,” he paused, staring out towards the window. “I’m glad to hear you are doing well. Are you from Englewood Coyle?” He sat down at the large desk in the corner.

Jamie kept me from answering. “Dad, we have to get this project done! Please, let us work!” she blurted out, clearly wanting to move on.

“Okay, okay I’ll leave,” he said as he stood up.

“Born and raised here, Sir,” I managed to get out before he turned to leave.

Mr. Anderson paused at the door of the study. “Coyle, if you ever need someone to talk to or want to talk about DNA or gene therapy, or really anything, come by the church, I’m there most days,” he invited.

“Thanks Mr. Anderson.”

After he left we delved into the project, we had already divided the work so we made good progress before Jamie suddenly stopped working.

“I’m sorry about my dad. He seems to have a way of extracting sensitive information.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago and most days it feels good to talk about it. It makes me think about her and what she did for my family,” I stated sincerely.

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Jamie replied. “What do you do to remember her?”

Her question caught me off guard. Both she and her dad seemed to ask sensitive questions. I do have my own way of remembering her. I write weekly letters to her, telling her about what I’m doing and how much I miss her. These are long letters and many teardrops litter the pages. They are locked in a box in my room, not to be shared with anyone other than my mom. So, instead of divulging the truth that felt entirely too intimate, I made something up.

“Every month my Dad and I get together and talk about something special she would do for us,” I lied.

“That’s sweet. My dad says remembrance is the key to staying close to those loved ones who have passed. My grandma used to live with us before she died of a stroke a few years ago. She was the nicest person I ever knew, always so kind to everybody. I try and remember her by doing something nice for someone each day.”

Wow, this girl is a veritable angel. Beautiful, talented, smart and genuinely kind. No wonder half the junior class and many of the senior class guys had tried to get with her. She was way too good for me.

At that time, the thought that Jamie and I would ever be together seemed practically inconceivable. I went over to Jamie’s house many times after that day, not only to work on the project but also to hang out with her and her family. During those visits, Pastor Anderson would invariably want to talk about my mom and her work. He seemed particularly interested in my mother’s work on gene therapy at the University of Colorado. While I hadn’t met many pastors, none of them had held science in as high regard as Pastor Anderson. I didn’t mind though, it was refreshing to have someone to talk to, especially about my mom.

2 Turns of fate

Eventually, the Andersons wanted to meet my father and invited us over for dinner one Saturday.

My father objected but had finally caved when I told him about the Pastor’s '65 Shelby GT350 sitting in his garage. I had asked the pastor about that white car in the garage during my first visit. He had been restoring it and finally had it running. I knew my dad would get a kick out of it because he is majorly into cars, even though we can’t afford anything nice because of our limited family income. My dad is more than physically capable, but lacks the education to get a higher paying job. Nobody seems to want experience these days, a degree somehow trumps all. My dad dropped out of Boston College when they had my older brother. They didn’t have money for a nanny and my mom needed to continue work on her medical degree. So, my dad became Mr. Mom. Only when my brother and I started school did my Dad get a job.

People are usually a little surprised when they meet my dad. My family has mixed Irish and Viking ancestors. My dad and I are both five feet nine, with fiery red hair, and square jaws. I have my mother’s eyes, dark and wider set, whereas my dad has dark green narrow set eyes. Unfortunately, I don’t have a build like my dad, who has broad shoulders and muscular arms. However, ever since my mom died, my dad’s eyes always look tired and his posture is slumped making him appear much less imposing. I have skinny arms and a long neck that seems to accentuate my lack of muscular prowess. I have always hated my scrawniness; I even tried to bulk up with a trainer who had me drink disgusting protein shakes and lift weights four days a week. I stopped going after two months because my muscles didn’t seem to respond. In the end, I chose skateboarding to avoid the pressures of weight training, despite the flak doled out on me by my testosterone-obsessed classmates.

My mom didn’t mind the hours I would spend at the skate park although dad absolutely resented it. His objective when moving to Colorado was to fit in as a family. He made it clear that skateboarding made me an outcast. His objections only fueled my drive and I got pretty dang good at it. I won the only rail jam I entered with a hardflip to backside smith grind. The local skate crowd heaped the praise but when I went home, I confronted the opposite.

“Dad, I won!” I said holding up the oversized medal around my neck.

“It’s 10pm Coyle, you said you would be home by 9. I have been waiting.”

“I’m sorry dad; the competition didn’t start on time. But you should have seen it Dad, I landed a dope trick and everyone went nuts, it was freakin’ amazing. You should’ve seen…”

“Next time, get home on time.” With that, he turned and went to his bedroom slamming the door.

I didn’t really want to offend my dad, as that would just further sour our relationship. I really just wanted to show that I could be good, and maybe even the best at something, whether it meant I fit in or not. To appease him though, I wouldn’t bring my skateboard whenever he gave me a ride. So, I left it behind when we drove over to the Anderson’s.

“Mr. Murray, it is great to meet you!” Pastor Anderson exclaimed as he opened the door. As we walked in, I saw that my dad had the same reaction to the place as I did the first time I had visited. He gazed up at the large foyer and chandelier. Mr. Anderson ushered us to the rear of the home.

“What kind of work do you do Mr. Murray?” Pastor Anderson asked as we sat down in their large formal dining room. I could tell my dad was uncomfortable already, and he didn’t like to talk about his work, so he sat there in silence. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson looked at my dad expectantly until it was too uncomfortable and their eyes drifted elsewhere.

“I’m the laundry supervisor for Holiday Inn Hotels,” he finally mumbled.

“All of the Holiday Inns in Denver?”

“Yes,” my dad replied.

“Wow, I am sure you are extremely busy. How many pounds of laundry do you go through in a day?” asked Pastor Anderson.

My father’s countenance began to change; I noticed his eyes drifted to and actually connected with Pastor Anderson's.

“About five tons from bath towels alone and another four tons from bed linens.”

My dad and Pastor Anderson continued speaking about the logistics of his work so I took the opportunity to chat with Jamie.

“Did you hear that Ms. Haslett is offering extra credit to anyone who will make a scale model of DNA? I was thinking about doing it.”

“Me too!” Jamie exclaimed. A smile brightened her face. “I have been trying to figure out what to make it out of. I bet she would give me extra credit if I used something creative, I think I might make it edible!” she said with a laugh.

Her smile amazed me, how could just talking about an extra credit assignment bring such light to her face? She seemed to be truly happy all the time, and I felt happier just being with her. “Better not tell me your plans; I might steal your idea!” I teased.

She pretended to be shocked, “You wouldn’t do that to me.” She had a nearly irresistible glint in her eye. “Actually you are usually the one with the good ideas; Ms. Haslett loves to talk about your model of a cell. Nobody can compete with that.”

Great, I could feel the blush coming. I don’t do well with compliments. “Are you going to help out with the homecoming float?” I asked to get the attention off me. Jamie recently ran a successful campaign for student body secretary and I knew she had been tasked with homecoming preparations.

“Yeah,” She sounded surprised. “Actually we are looking for volunteers. Wanna help?” She asked with a smile.

Honestly, who could resist that smile? “Sure,” I found myself saying.

She rattled off the details of when and where they were meeting, and talked about some of the ideas they had. I really was just interested in spending more time with her.

“Could I give you a ride?” I offered, hoping to maximize our time together, although I instantly regretted it. I drive a real POS, especially compared to what she must be accustomed. She had already accepted before I could think of a way to take the invitation back. Oh, great, I really did not relish the idea of her in my crappy car, an old green 1979 Pontiac LeMans I inherited from my dad – but I couldn’t do much at that point.

The dinner ended after an hour or so and as we were leaving, Pastor Anderson invited my dad to his church. To which my dad politely, if not somewhat sheepishly, declined. The Andersons invited us over again that weekend. Each visit became more comfortable for my dad and more enjoyable for me.

Turns out that I didn’t need to be so nervous about my car, I should have known she would have a great attitude about it. Like I said, she is way too good for me. When I stopped at her house to pick her up for the homecoming prep, she stood in her driveway waiting for me. Man-o-mally, she looked cute in tight blue jeans with paint stains and a tank top. I jumped out of the car and nervously offered to carry her bag. She obliged and I slung it over my shoulder. I fiddled with my keys as we walked out to the car, trying to hide my nervousness and trying to come up with something to say about my car so she wouldn’t be too surprised.

Finally, I said, “My car is kind of an antique, but not in the collectible sense of the word, more in the old and run down sense.”

She let out a light laugh and said, “All it needs to do is get you from one place to another.”

“Well, it usually does do that, but you’ll have to get in on the driver’s side because the passenger’s door is jammed.” I could feel my cheeks blushing.

“So, you’re saying it has some character? I love a car with character,” she said with a smile. “My grandma had a car with a LOT of character. My dad kept trying to buy her a new one but she just said she couldn’t abandon old Penny. She was an old copper colored Pinto that my grandma adored even though the air conditioning didn’t work and only one door actually opened.”

We laughed about the joys of old cars the entire way there. As she climbed over the seat to get out she said, “I think this car needs a name, something with a lot of character like Bertha or Beulah. Or, maybe something more sophisticated like Queen Anne to help preserve her dignity. What do you think?”

“I don’t think this car ever had any dignity. I’m thinking ‘Green Latrine’ would be more appropriate!”

“Eww! No way!” She poked me in the side.

“Okay, okay,” I squirmed.

We continued to suggest outrageous names, finally deciding on ‘Bucky’ because of how hard it shifted.

After the prep concluded, during which I hardly saw Jamie, I dropped her off at home that night. The sky shone clear of clouds and the moon beamed giving light to the driveway. I pulled the car to her front door. She unbuckled her seatbelt and I started to open my door.

“Wait,” she lightly rested her hand on my arm, “thanks for helping us Coyle. That was sweet of you. Sorry we couldn’t work together more.”

“Thanks for putting up with my dilapidated car.” I smiled wryly.

“I love your car! Coyle, I would love to get to know Bucky better.”

“Oh really? How do you get to school in the morning?”

“My dad usually gives me a ride. Are you offering?” She poked me on my flank.

“Maybe.” I smiled. “I could pick you up around 7. Does that work?”

“Sounds great, Coyle.”

After that, I gave her a ride to and from school most days. We would often stop at the Corner Café on the way home to grab a snack. The Corner café had booths in the back, which were quiet and private, just the way we liked it. We would spend hours there, talking, laughing, doing our homework, and just holding hands. Sometimes Aedan or some of Jamie’s friends would come along, but they all knew this had become my and Jamie’s place.

Jamie and I didn’t exactly start dating; we organically ended up spending more and more time together. My dad liked her and her dad liked me, so our families never obstructed our relationship. Unfortunately for me though, many of the other guys at my school had long-standing crushes on Jamie as well. The most protective and jealous was Jeff Steadman. Jeff was a tall, stout, and fiery wrestler who had made it clear to all of us guys that he was pursuing Jamie. I knew his family because his older brother Steve had been friends with Greg while we were growing up. They both would come over and Steve and Greg would run off leaving Jeff and me. We never got along; he would just sit down on my couch and play Xbox until Steve would say it was time to go.

Jeff went through puberty earlier than most boys did, and I unfortunately went through it much later than most. He was the big ‘man’ on the playground in school, and quickly became the star wrestler in high school. With all of this attention and accolade, he became cocky. When he heard that I had been spending more time with Jamie, he publicly told his friends that I was going to get it. At lunchtime, I was walking down to the sidewalk to wait for my dad when Jeff and his goons surrounded me. I thought he would yell at me, push me, or at least give some warning, but he didn’t. A swift right jab to my nose started this whole episode.

A large jostle of the ambulance as it went over a speed bump at the hospital brought me back to the present. The ambulance stopped with a jerk and soon they rolled me into a room in the emergency department. My dad came rushing in and I recognized the look, the sheer terror in his eyes. I saw the same look on his face on the night mom died. Up until that point I had not been too worried, I had thought it was just a bad bloody nose, but his look frightened me.

First, an older nurse with gray hair came in and immediately started shuffling around the room.

“Hi Coyle, I’m Jackie. I will be your nurse here in the ER. I need you to get out of those clothes and put on this gown.”

I was so weak; she and my dad had to help me out of my clothes under the sheet she had draped over me. Talk about awkward, I’ve never been undressed by an older lady, she looked old enough to be my grandma. Gratefully, she allowed me to keep my boxers on. She then put a white and blue hospital gown on me that tied in the back. She promptly drew a few vials of blood and switched out the IV bag.

“Looks like quite the blow you took, can I get you anything?” she stated.

How about my dignity lady, because you took it a few seconds ago? I told her no, I felt too weak really to care. A patient transporter appeared and wheeled me off to the CT scanner.

After a while, the ER doc came in. He introduced himself as Dr. Williams and did a quick physical exam. He then took out two applicators with a gray compound covering the tips. He removed the blood soaked gauze from my nose, grabbed the otoscope from the wall, applied a speculum and peered into both nostrils momentarily and then quickly placed one of them in my left nostril.

“This will cauterize the laceration to stop the bleeding,” he said as he inserted the second one in my right nostril. “Your nasal bones are fractured, as well as your left medial orbit. Given your blurry vision, we were worried the small muscle on the side of your eye was trapped in the fragments. Gratefully, even though the bone is broken into multiple pieces the muscle is intact and free.” He then placed another applicator in my right nostril.

Surprisingly, I experienced no pain.

“Coyle,” he hesitated, “we drew some labs to check your blood and noticed that your blood is abnormally thin. It doesn’t have a normal level of clot producing platelets. That is why your nose kept bleeding.” He paused as he adjusted the applicators.

“Unfortunately, that is only part of what is going on with your blood. You have severe anemia, which to a certain degree, we expected with the amount of blood you lost, but we also found that you have an abnormal amount of white blood cells. We are going to have to admit you to the hospital.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we need to run some more tests to see what is causing those high levels. I’m going to consult with a doctor that specializes in blood disorders and they will most likely take over your care.” With that, he left the room.

My father dropped his head between his knees and wept. His tears dropped silently on the floor, pooling at his feet.

They pushed blood, platelets, and fluids in my veins as I waited in the ER. Eventually, they admitted me to the hospital. They placed me in a pediatric room with windows looking over a large courtyard. The next few days were a whirlwind of medical tests and raw emotions. Jamie had come and visited multiple times but she needed to be at school. She cried every time she saw me, and told me I looked unnaturally pale.

Three days into my hospital stay, the oncologist Dr. Strayer quietly entered my room and broke the fateful news to my father and me. I had acute lymphoblastic leukemia and something called a Philadelphia chromosome. I felt the tears threatening, and then streaming down my face and the rest of the conversation seemed a blur. The word ‘leukemia’ closed in around me, consuming me with its deathly label.

3 Mucous membranes

“I have cancer? How? Why?” I screamed at Dr. Strayer.

He tried to explain but I did not really want to hear it. Everything around me went deathly quiet, like my ears refused to hear more. A rush of intense self-pity washed over me and I let the tears flow freely again. Why does it have to be me? Why does life have to beat me down again? Before the pity sank deep, a surge of anger came billowing up. I knelt down with my head buried in the pillow and began punching the bed with both my fists. I screamed unintelligible words. The screams came out as grunts, which were hardly muffled by the pillow. Dr. Strayer walked over to the door and closed it slowly. He bore a muted yet sympathetic look as he sat down next to me on the hospital bed and gently rested his hand on my shoulder. I stifled the urge to scream, calmed by his presence.

I looked to my dad, hoping he would come to me. While I appreciated Dr. Strayer, I needed my father’s strength. His head drooped low, held only by his hands covering his face.

“Dad,” I reached out to him, beckoning him to come over. He made no movement other than a synchronized bobbing of his head. Deep sobs heaved from inside him. Dr. Strayer stood up, apparently believing my dad and I needed some time alone.

“I’ll give you some time Coyle. I’m available at any moment, just ask the nurse for me.” He slipped out without another glance at my dad or me. He was crying uncontrollably.

“Dad, come on. Come here. I need you now, Dad. Don’t just sit there, damn it!”

He shot a teary eye glare and stormed out of the room.

“Dad! Where are you going? Don’t leave me here.”

I know he was grieving but he left me alone with cancer. I was deeply hurt. How could he leave me now? My world was collapsing. I needed to talk to someone, so I grabbed my phone and through my teary eyes punched Jamie’s number.

“Coyle! How are you? ” answered Jamie.

“Jamie, I have cancer.” I burst into tears.

“What? No, no! I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. Dr. Strayer just told me.”

“Oh Coyle, I’m so sorry. Can I come see you now?” Her voice cracked before she started crying.

She arrived in about twenty minutes and came with Pastor Anderson in tow. She ran through the door and threw her arms around me as I sat up. Her warm tears flowed down the back of my neck. I held her tight and closed my tear soaked eyes.

“Coyle, oh Coyle!”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have anything to say. We just held each other sobbing with synchronized deep heaves. Pastor Anderson stood silent in the doorway, eyes wet.

The next few days were comprised of innumerable tests, transfusions, and starting chemotherapy. My dad would come in my room from time to time but would remain silent. I hated him then. I despised the fact that he was less of a man than I expected, than I had hoped. He got better, sure, but it took a while.

The docs finally were able to give me enough blood to bump up my hematocrit and discharged me on a Friday afternoon.

When I got home from the hospital, I called Jamie and Pastor Anderson to let them know I had been discharged. He told me that my father had already called him.

I had started chemotherapy while in the hospital and felt nauseous whenever I wasn’t taking my anti-nausea medication, Ondansetron. Once my dad got over the initial shock, he dutifully helped me with everything at home. He stayed with me most days and we actually had some meaningful conversations for a change. My brother also came down and stayed with us for a week. Dad and he still didn’t talk much, but it was comforting to feel a little like a family again.

I had chemotherapy three days a week and it was taking its toll on my body. The only times I had energy to go outside were when Jamie came over. We would take walks to Miller Field only a few blocks away. By the time we got there, I would be so weak and short of breath that we would just lay on the grass for thirty minutes until my energy came back. Not that I minded though; Jamie and I had our first kiss while lying on that grass gazing at the clouds flying high above Englewood. We were talking about how school was going for her. I had already missed three months, including homecoming. I wished school were still the biggest of my worries, but there was no way I had energy for anything like homework, tests, and the crap that goes down in high school. Although, I missed the normalcy of picking up Jamie, going to classes, coming home, doing homework, and then slacking off, I tried not to let it show. She saw right through it; she had a knack for that.

“When will you be able to come back to school?” she asked.

“Dr. Strayer didn’t give me a date. He said cancer knows no timetable unfortunately.”

“I miss you there. The halls are lonely. Actually, everywhere is lonely without you.”

“How did homecoming go?”

She didn’t respond for what seemed an eternity. What happened? She didn’t want to go but I talked her into going with a group of her girlfriends.

“Coyle, I don’t want you to get mad.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“Some of the girls invited guys to come with us. They were drunk when we picked them up.”

“Jamie, don’t worry about it, I trust you more than anyone.”

“I know, but these guys were really drunk.”

“Sounds like a typical outing for most of the idiots at our school.”

“In the limo one of them kissed me. I didn’t see him coming; he threw himself on me. I’m so sorry.”

“Who was it?” My face flushed red.

“It doesn’t matter. I slapped him and my friends pushed him back.”

“I want to know who. Come on.”

“Dylan, okay? It was Dylan. We ditched them all at the dance.”

“That freakin’ piece of…”

She pulled me close by my shoulders, stopping me. Her eyes met mine. “All I could think of was you. How much I wanted you there. I thought about calling you but I figured you would be asleep.”

“I wanted to call you too. I stayed up as long as I could. I wanted to be there, you know that, right?”

“I do. That night I imagined you holding me as we swayed under the lights. Just you and I. No parents, friends, nobody but us. And no cancer. Coyle, you have to beat this. Promise me you will. I need you.”

“I promise.” Did I mean it? Can I beat it? I didn’t know.

She rolled more onto her side and softly turned my head towards hers. Her lips curved into a seductive smile. She moved in pulling me with my collar, and then kissed me, long and soft. Her mouth moved rhythmically around mine as she dictated the pace of the kiss. My heart swelled, I had never felt anything like this before. My first real kiss. I knew I loved her; nevertheless, the rush of endorphins solidified it with that kiss. We lay silently after the kiss, her head on my chest, awash in the euphoria of young love.

My dad would get worried about me so we had to return within an hour. She would support me as we walked back. I didn’t mind the help, especially from her.

My father and I went back to Dr. Strayer for my sixth month visit. They had drawn blood earlier that day and I was anxious to hear the results. I had noticed feeling more tired and nauseated lately.

“Coyle, I went over your blood work and unfortunately the chemotherapy is not working the way we had hoped,” he stated plainly.

“What do you mean? What can we do now?” My dad blurted out as he abruptly stood up.

“The next step is a bone marrow transplant with cells that will replace the leukemia cells. We can do that here in the next week or so if you would like,” he offered expectantly.

“Dr. Strayer, if that doesn’t work, what’s next?” I asked, already sensing the answer.

“Options become somewhat limited unfortunately. We could try and enroll you in a clinical trial with some of the more experimental therapies.”

“Don’t skirt around it Dr. Strayer. If this doesn’t work, I may die. Isn’t that what you are saying?” Death. Leaving this mortal world. Leaving my family. Leaving Jamie! I had already experienced the searing pain of death that accompanied my mom’s passing. It didn’t make me sad that I was going to die, maybe disappointed, but not sad. The main problem I had with dying was that I knew my dad wouldn’t be far behind me. Frankly, it surprised me that he hadn’t already done it. A few nights after mom died, I woke up thirsty and walked to the kitchen in our old house. As I turned the corner, I saw my dad with an entire bottle of pills poured out on the counter and a glass of water. I watched in silence for a moment as my dad sobbed over that pile of deathly white pills. He eventually grabbed a handful and held them within inches of his mouth. Tears streamed down his face and his arm started to tremble. His mouth remained tightly shut. I finally spoke up and he hastily poured the pills into the bottle and told me he had a headache and accidently spilled the pills. I knew he was lying, as he will not make eye contact when he is. I never saw him repeat that exercise but I doubt he would hesitate if he lost me as well.

Dr. Strayer brought me out of my contemplation. “Coyle, the bone marrow transplant has a good chance of working. Let’s take it one-step at a time. Will next week work?”

“I think we should talk it over and get back to you,” my dad said.

“Oh, um, okay.” Dr. Strayer stated, obviously confused.

“Why? Shouldn’t we just get it done as soon as possible?” I questioned.

“We need to talk it over. Thank you Dr. Strayer”

My dad’s insistence was odd, and I could see the shock on Dr. Strayer’s face as well.

On the way home, I remained silent. Confusion grew; my dad had been so supportive through all of the prior treatments. Why reverse course now? When we got home, I noticed Pastor Anderson’s car conspicuously parked in our lot. He got out of his car as we pulled up. He put his arm around my shoulders as we went up to the apartment.

“Coyle, I am sorry the chemotherapy isn’t working. Your father asked me to come over.”

“Why don’t we sit down?” my father suggested as we entered our small apartment. “We have some things to discuss with you.”

My thoughts started racing erratically. What is going on? Why didn’t we accept the treatment? Why do “we” have to discuss anything? What does Pastor Anderson have to do with all of this?

“I know the hospital is quite capable of providing an adequate bone marrow transplant but there is a company called Somatotech which specializes in a revolutionary type of therapy, “he explained.

Somatotech, that name sounded familiar. Then it came to me, my mom had done some contract work with them the year before she died.

Apparently, my dad could read my thoughts and stated, “Mom did some work with them, but cut the contract short.”

“Why did she do that?”

“She felt that some of their business practices were inappropriate. Your mom was in academics, and the shift to the business side of science didn’t suit her,” my dad explained.

“But now you want to use them to help me?” I replied, annoyed. “If Mom didn’t trust them why should I?”

“Because they are the best at what they do.” My dad glared, his eyes burning into me. I knew he would do anything to avoid losing another family member. And, with that, I knew the argument was over. I turned to Pastor Anderson in defeat.

“We need a sample of your cells from a mucous membrane, such as your mouth,” he said, holding up a swab.

“Why do you need my cells?” I said, bleeding with suspicion.

“Somatotech can manipulate the harvested cells from your cheek into reversing their biology so that they are pluripotent, meaning they can become almost any type of tissue. They can give those stem cells special signals to make them become new bone marrow cells, ones without the mutation causing your leukemia. Once they have enough of them, they can transplant them into your bone marrow and potentially cure your leukemia,” Pastor Anderson explained. His description sounded almost rehearsed, as if he was some kind of company representative.

I glanced at my dad and he nodded expectantly. I hesitantly took the swab from Pastor Anderson and ran it along the inner cheek in my mouth. Pastor Anderson took the swab and placed it immediately in a tube with an orange gel.

“One more, and then I will drop these off at their lab on my way home,” he offered. I repeated the task and Pastor Anderson placed both tubes in a small biohazard bag.

“This could cure you Coyle!” he said with enthusiasm.

For some reason, I didn’t feel like responding. I had an indifferent feeling, maybe it was because I had been through so many rounds of chemo and none seemed to work. My dad, doctors, and Pastor Anderson had thrown promises at me. I had become desensitized. I also felt betrayed. This is the very company my mom chose not to work with, so why would we trust them?

4 Vitals

I had my first appointment with a Somatotech physician on Thursday February 28, a few hours after my appointment with Dr. Strayer. My dad wanted me to transfer all my records and treatment to Somatotech but I finally convinced him to allow me to see Dr. Strayer for another checkup.

Dr. Strayer was a tall, thin man with a snappy, dry sense of humor, that didn’t seem to sit well with my dad. I actually enjoyed it as it brought some relief to the seriousness of the appointments.

After the appointment ended, Dr. Strayer accompanied us out of the room. My dad needed to have my records sent to Somatotech so he stepped away to the nurse’s station. Dr. Strayer pulled me aside as my dad spoke with the charge nurse.

“Coyle,” he lowered his voice, “I don’t trust Somatotech. There is some suspicion that they published doctored results. No pun intended. If you notice anything odd, unprofessional, or if you aren’t getting better, please let me know. Call me anytime.”

He slipped me a card with his personal cell number as my dad walked up.

“Time to go,” he glanced at Dr. Strayer.

“Thanks Dr. Strayer.”

“Good luck Coyle.”

I did some research on Somatotech between my appointments. They had a slick appearing website with a video on their home page explaining why their treatment was far superior to traditional methods. An older appearing doctor with obviously dyed brown hair wearing a white coat was standing outside a patient room and introduced himself as Dr. Tessel, CEO of Somatotech.

“Thank you for your interest in Somatotech. We are excited to announce a landmark breakthrough in cancer therapy. A process we call Reverse Cellular Engineering which is now FDA approved for the treatment of a wide variety of cancers.”

He entered the room and gestured to a toddler playing in a hospital crib next to him.

“Veronica was diagnosed with a rare form of neuroblastoma, a devastating cancer which affects young children and is almost invariably fatal if not found early. Veronica was near death when her parents heard of our new therapy. We were able to take some of her native cells and program them to attack the cancer cells, which unfortunately had spread throughout her small body. Miraculously, within days Veronica started her speedy recovery and will now be discharged completely cancer free.”

The scene shifted to slow motion of the toddler giving a hug to her parents and then all three walking out of the building. Finally, Dr. Tessel sat at a large dark wooden desk.

“You too can be cured. For more information please click below or call anytime, our representatives are available 24/7,” Dr. Tessel smiled, looked directly into the camera and stated, “Financing is available.”

Dr. Tessel faded out and the Somatotech logo faded in.

Pulling on the heart strings, nice work. As I checked the other pages on their website, I found mostly general information, with testimonials from supposed cancer survivors. I did a Google search and found some press releases and links to scientific papers published in a medical journal titled ‘Translational Science’. I clicked on one paper titled, ‘Controlled induction of pluripotent stem cells in treatment of chronic myelogenous leukemia.’ Dr. Tessel was the first author. Scrolling through the article, I noted that no conflict of interest or financial disclosures were declared. He is the CEO of Somatotech, how is that not an obvious conflict of interest?

I did another search typing in ‘Dr. Tessel funding pluripotent stem cell study’ and pressed enter. All that came up were articles from the same journal and Somatotech’s website on the first page of results. I clicked on page two and it was the same. I repeated this until page six. How can they control the results like this? Dr. Strayer could give me some background information.

“This is Dr. Strayer.”

“Hi Dr. Strayer, this is Coyle. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“Absolutely Coyle, what’s up?”

“I have been doing some research on Somatotech and a Dr. Tessel. Do you know him?”

“He’s a jackass, and well known as such in the oncology field.” I sensed the instant exasperation in his voice. “He started in academic medicine and quickly moved up the ranks. As Chairman of the oncology department at Hopkins, he made many of his colleagues upset by modifying admitting criteria, which selected patients with higher socioeconomic statuses. They eventually ousted him. After that, he invested his money in multiple research companies before starting Somatotech. The majority of studies coming from these companies were riddled with conflicts of interests and questionable techniques.”

“He sounds like a quality guy,” I said sarcastically.

“He has always been focused on one goal. To make as much money as possible, at all costs.”

Dr. Strayer continued to rail on Dr. Tessel when my dad came in my room and indicated it was time to go to my appointment.

“Thanks for everything. I will let you know how it goes,” I said to Dr. Strayer as I hung up.

“Who was that?” my dad asked inquisitively

“Jamie.” I lied.

We arrived at Somatotech’s building in downtown Denver and parked in their patient parking. The building was at least thirty stories tall and had an all glass façade. I could see Mount Evans gleaming in the reflection. There were no signs on the outside that this was a hospital or clinic, just another downtown skyscraper. We entered the foyer and I was taken aback by the size of the atrium. It extended to the top of the building and I could see the sun’s rays entering the glass thirty stories above. We were alone in the atrium except for a receptionist sitting at a large glass desk.

We walked up to the desk where a stoic looking woman in a black suit sat straight as a board in her chair and looked directly ahead until we were within a few feet of the desk.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Somatotech. Do you have an appointment?” she said clearly.

“We do, I’m Fallon Murray and this is my son Coyle. We have a 3:30 appointment.”

“Excellent, please place your cell phones here.” She pointed to a metal bin. “Then proceed to the elevators and go to the treatment floor,” she said without even looking down at the computer monitor before her on the desk.

I looked at my dad and he nodded. Following him, I took out my phone and placed it in the metal bin. We walked to the large glass elevators, which opened immediately. Inside the elevator, there were only three buttons: Atrium, Treatment, and Recovery. We pushed the ‘Treatment’ button and the elevator rushed up at least ten floors. Where were all the people?

The doors opened and a more familiar clinic stretched out before us. A nurse wearing white scrubs greeted us.

“Hi! Are you Coyle?” she asked bubbly.

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Oh, don’t call me ma’am; I’m not that old! I’m Kelly and I will be your nurse for all of your treatment,” she said with a deliberate wink, “Welcome to Somatotech! We received your records about an hour ago and your samples last week so we are ready to go,” she said. “Please follow me to room ten.” Kelly was a petite blonde whose smile couldn’t mask, and quite frankly actually accentuated, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Despite her energy and overt extroversion, her eyes seemed tired.

As we walked towards the room, I looked around. All I could see was one other nurse and a couple waiting near a table in the corner. Why are there more than ten patient rooms?

We made our way into a standard patient room with an examination table, desk with a computer and a few chairs. I plopped myself down on the examination table.

“Can I take your vitals Coyle?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said as I rolled up my sleeve.

“Oh, Coyle, could you please take off your shirt? We have a different way of measuring your vitals here than you are probably used to,” she explained.

I took off my shirt. She opened a cabinet door and pulled out a black vest with an LCD screen on the front. She wrapped it around my chest and fastened the straps. Cool metal discs pressed on my bare skin on my chest and back. She pressed a round silver button on the front just under the screen. The LCD screen lit up with the Somatotech logo and then showed my heart rate, oxygen saturation, temperature, and my cardiac electrical activity. I was familiar with all of these from my stays in the hospital. There was one reading labeled ‘Estimated BI’ I wasn’t familiar with; it fluctuated between 70.5 and 90.2.

“I’m going to need you keep this on while you are here, is that okay?” she asked.

“Sure, no problem.” She seemed genuine, but the vest made me nervous.

“Great, I will go let the doctor know you are here.”

Once she had left I turned to my dad.

“She is nice but this place is weird Dad; I don’t really feel comfortable here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This isn’t the same as a hospital. They are specialized at what they do. Greg highly recommends the treatments they give,” my dad responded.

Greg, Pastor Anderson’s first name. I knew he and my dad were becoming better friends because I commonly heard them call each other by their first names.

“What does Pastor Anderson have to with this? And what does he know?”

“He knows because he used to work here,” he stated coolly.

“What!? Why didn’t he tell me?” I yelled, shocked.

“He wanted to tell you, but I told him not to because I knew you would react like this.”

Pastor Anderson used to work at Somatotech? I took a moment to think. No wonder he pitched it so well. How long had he and my dad planned this?

There was a soft knock on the door and it slowly opened. In stepped a young white female doctor with a firmly pressed white coat, heels, and diamond jewelry. She looked more like a runway model than a doctor.

“Hello Coyle, I am Doctor Baldwin. How are you feeling?”

“A little confused to tell you the truth.” I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

“Hello again Mr. Murray, how are you?” she said ignoring my comment and turning to my dad.

“We’re excited to be here. Thank you for seeing us,” he said with enthusiasm. He had obviously met her previously.

“Coyle, you have come to the right place. We have grown nearly enough of your cells to do the transplant. We should be on schedule for tomorrow; we just need to run a few more tests to confirm your body will be able to handle the transplant. Then we will give the radiation dose to your existing bone marrow to get it ready for the modified cells.”

“What kind of tests?”

“Electrical studies of your heart, brain, and other organs. These will be relatively painless and will not require you to do anything. You already have the Diavest on, which will do the work,” she explained. “May I?” She extended her finger to the bright LCD screen on the vest.

“I don’t think I have a choice, really,” I said as I glared at my dad.

“Great, please lie back on the examination table.”

As I laid back and extended my legs, the end of the table immediately lifted up to support them. Dr. Baldwin then pressed on the touch screen for a few moments.

“Now just relax, you may feel a slight shock, and possibly a warm sensation. Feel free to hold on to the railing on the side of the exam table, if you need to,” she warned.

“Wait why would I need to hold on to something?”

Without responding, she tapped the LCD screen. Instantly I felt a violent shock run through my body. My back muscles started to contract fiercely making my abdomen arch out. My arms curled up on my chest and I couldn’t move.

“Dad! Arghhhh!” My jaw muscles tightened down.

“Coyle!” he yelled then jumped up and came towards me.

Dr. Baldwin put her arm out to stop my dad.

“Don’t worry. This will only take a moment, some people react differently, but it is essential.”

The shock ended as abruptly as it started and the screen blinked green with the number eight-five. I was breathing hard and my heart raced. Sweat dripped into my eyes making them sting. My back muscles were still in spasm. I tried to yell at Dr. Baldwin but I was out of breath.

“Fantastic! You should be able to handle the therapy incredibly well.” she stated with enthusiasm.

“Dad, I want to get out of here, NOW!” I yelled as I caught my breath.

“Coyle, don’t you understand? The results mean there is a very high likelihood you will be cured.”

My rational side wasn’t working at that moment. “I don’t care! There is something wrong with this place. I want to get out of here!”

“Please let me explain further Coyle,” she stated calmly.

“No! Get me the hell out!” I demanded.

“Mr. Murray, may I have a word with you?” she glanced at my dad.

He nodded and they immediately left the room. I tried to follow but found that my muscles lacked energy. It took a tremendous effort just to raise my arm to my head. Rhythmic waves of pain surged through it. Click. The door locked and I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

Suddenly, I heard a small hiss from the corner of the room near the door. I strained to find the source. The sound emanated from a small vent close to the ground. I couldn’t see the gas but I knew it was swiftly filling the room. I smelled a slight foul odor and my vision started to blur.

“Dad? What is happening?” I screamed. I tried to get up but my muscles were still too tired. A rim of darkness in my peripheral vision grew and grew until it enveloped me and I was out.

5 Consciousness

When I woke, thick leather straps fastened my arms, legs, and chest to an examination table in a brightly lit room. All I had on was the vest and some white boxers. I pushed and pulled against the straps but they didn’t budge. I recognized the room as an operating room. Multiple bright lights hung above, focused on my chest. An anesthesia cart stood next to me. Syringes, IV tubing, intubation blades, laryngoscopes, masks and bags, and other medical supplies filled its drawers. While I was at Englewood Community Hospital, I became so bored waiting between treatments that I convinced Dr. Strayer to give me a tour of the hospital including one of the operating rooms. He even let me play with one of the surgical robots.

As I struggled, a sharp pain jetted up my chest and into my neck. I glanced down and noticed a tube sticking out of my skin near my collarbone. I looked over at my arms and noticed an IV in each arm. My muscles no longer felt tired, I actually felt quite rested. What are these people doing to me? What had my dad done? Why did he let then drug me?

“Hello? Dad? Help!” I frantically yelled.

Just then, the opaque glass doors at the other end of the room slid open. Two people wearing white masks and gowns walked up to me.

“Hey! Who are you? Where’s my dad?”

Neither of them spoke a word. In fact, they avoided my eye contact. The taller one took out a syringe filled with opaque fluid and deliberately attached it to the tube sticking out of my skin.

“Wait! What is that? Don’t put that in me! Tell me what’s going on!” I screamed. “Dad! Dad?” I strained looking for him even though I knew he was gone.

They didn’t even flinch as I yelled and strained at the restraints. He proceeded to push the drug into me with a sustained movement of his thumb. He followed it with another syringe full of clear fluid. Again, the room closed in on me. Warmth spread throughout my body and my mind felt slow. My eyelids felt heavy and I expected to slip into unconsciousness like before. However, though my eyes closed, I maintained slight consciousness.

“This patient is one of the best candidates we have come across. Did you hear his bio-imprint number was eighty-five? Above the mean by twelve points. Yield should be very high off the samples.” one of the masked people commented.

I didn’t recognize his voice; he spoke slowly and had a thick British accent. They obviously thought the dose was enough to knock me out. Bio-imprint number, that must have been the number displayed on my Diavest.

“Right, he has handled the therapy surprisingly well. Take a look at his musculature.” Said the other one with a deep husky voice as he lifted the front of the Diavest, examined my abdomen, and then continued, “They are avidly taking up the modified cells. He demonstrated accelerated metabolism in the past three days, we have had to double his dietary intake.”

Three days? How long have I been out? What have they done to me? My muscles do feel stronger, almost strong enough to break those restraints.

I could feel one of them moving the tube in my chest.

“I’ll draw up the final labs. Dr. Tessel will be anxious to see the results.”

Dr. Tessel. That name sounded familiar. I then remembered, the CEO from the video and the author of the research papers.

“Samples are completed, let’s take them to the lab,” said the man with the British accent.

With that, I heard the doors slide open again and their footsteps became more and more distant. How did they do it? What did my ‘Bio-imprint’ number have to do with it? I didn’t really like the sound of it. An ominous and foreboding sensation billowed up over me like the gas from the examination room. Something was terribly wrong, I knew it, I could feel it deep inside. It felt like I had lost an integral piece of me. The feeling bothered me but my mind felt exceedingly tired, so I succumbed to the medication and fell asleep.

I awoke in a different room. It looked like a typical hospital room with a bed, a small flat screen TV, sink, and a window with a view of downtown Denver. The tube that was in my chest was no longer there and I only had one IV in my arm. I had a plain white T-shirt and white shorts on. The Diavest was conspicuously missing. A small table sat near my bed. On it was a large stack of cards and opened letters. Why they were already open was a mystery. I reached for one with a purple lace border and instantly recognized Jamie’s handwriting.

Coyle,

I miss you so much! I hope things are going well, I talk to your dad to get updates every day. I am sorry I haven’t been able to visit. They said you were too weak and needed to be isolated because your bone marrow still hadn’t rebounded.

The end of the school year went well. Mrs. Haslett ended up giving me an A in biology. I am sure you would have gotten the same grade. She loved our project. I wish you could have been there to present it with me.

We went 11-2 for the season and barely lost to Cherry Creek High in the state championship. We were sooooo close! Tracy missed an open goal with only a minute to play. Oh well, we all choke sometimes. My coach thinks I am a shoe-in for a scholarship. He’s pushing for University of Colorado. We could be close then!

Coyle, I’m going to be working at my dad’s summer camp for the next few months. I feel terrible I won’t be there when you are discharged but my dad says you can come up to the camp if you would like.

Can’t wait to see you!

Love,

Jamie

Looking at the top right corner of the card, I noticed the date, June 10. June 10! I have been out for four months? What in the hell were they doing to me for that long? Why don’t I remember?

A phone sat on the table and I immediately grabbed it. Who should I call? I could call my dad, but he was the one who put me in here. Pastor Anderson seemed to have some part of it as well. I dialed Jamie. It went immediately to her voicemail. She must be out of range at her camp.

I sat up in the hospital bed and looked around. The sliding glass door to my room was slightly opened. I carefully pinched off the IV line and disconnected it from my arm; I had done this multiple times at Englewood Regional much to the nursing staff’s chagrin. I put my feet down on the cool tile ground and tentatively peaked out the door. I found that my room sat at the end of a long hallway lined with a glass wall. I noticed multiple small metallic towers with bright red lights on top outside of each room. As I entered the hallway, I peered through the glass and instinctively stepped back. The glass was the only barrier between the open atrium and me. The ground lay thirty floors below.

“Coyle! You are awake! Fantastic.” I heard a familiar voice to my side.

I quickly turned and saw Nurse Kelly approaching me. She had a tablet in her hand and looked just as bubbly as the day I met her.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m okay, a little confused. Where is my dad?”

“I will call him and let him know he can come up,” she replied. “Can we go back in your room so I can take your vitals?”

“Sure, as long as you answer some questions,” I said, stepping back in the room.

“Of course, Coyle! The anesthesia is still wearing off, so things can be a little fuzzy.” She pulled out her phone and called my dad as we entered the room.

I sat on the edge of the bed and started to take off my shirt in anticipation.

“What are you doing Coyle?” She said as she pulled out a blood pressure cuff from a drawer in the cabinet on the wall.

“Uh, I’m taking off my shirt so you can put that Diavest thing on me.”

“Diavest? What is that?”

She wrapped the blood pressure cuff tightly around my left upper arm. As she did, I noticed my biceps seemed larger than I remembered them.

“The Diavest, it was the vest you put on me during my first appointment. It has a screen on it that you used to monitor my vitals.” What in the heck was going on here? Why was she denying this?

“Coyle, like I said, you have been under anesthesia for an extended period of time. It is a known side effect to have some memory loss and even distorted memories. We collect vitals like any other health care facility.” she explained with a deliberate wink.

No way lady! I remember that appointment vividly, the Diavest, Dr. Baldwin, the gas, and especially the moment my own dad abandoned me. That memory is seared into my heart and mind.

“Coyle.”

I looked past Nurse Kelly and saw my dad standing in the doorway with a large smile.

“Dad,” I acknowledged him. This time my eyes burned into his. My betrayer.

“Time to go home Coyle; your cured.” His smile beamed towards me. I could tell he was holding back tears. He held out his arms and beckoned me in for a hug.

“Dad, why did…” I shook my head and stopped. This wasn’t the time. I didn’t budge.

My dad stared at me, obviously confused.

I turned to Kelly. “I have been completely out for four freakin’ months, right? And now you are just going to discharge me? Shouldn’t Dr. Baldwin take a look at me?”

“No need, Coyle. They have monitored you every moment of your treatment period and determined it is time. They wouldn’t let you go if there was any reason to keep you here, believe me.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and rubbed it slightly. “Dr. Baldwin wishes you the best. I just need to finish your discharge process and then you can collect your clothes on the way out,” she said as she tapped on the tablet for a few moments. The red light atop the metal post switched to green.

“Okay Coyle, you are free to go. We have your follow up appointment with Dr. Baldwin scheduled for next week. It is extremely important that you be there on time,” she said while making sustained eye contact with me. “The clothes you came in are at the nurse’s station. You have been in these clothes now for a day.” She indicated toward me. “So we have another set for you. Once you are changed you can take the elevator down to the atrium.”

“I will wear my own clothes, thank you.”

With that, I moved towards the door. I walked past my dad without giving him the respect to look him in the eye.

“Oh and Coyle, just so you know, you will probably need the clothes we have for you.” She said with another wink as I looked back at her.

Save your winks lady. I really don’t care about what you say. I wanted to tell her what was really on my mind, but my desire to leave this place was much greater. That same ominous feeling had come over me again.

With my dad trailing me, I presented myself to the nurse at the desk at the end of the hall.

“You can change in the dressing room.” The nurse indicated to a small room near the station and handed me another white t-shirt and shorts.

“Where are my clothes?”

The nurse cocked her head as if she was confused.

“Coyle would like to try on his own clothes,” said Nurse Kelley as she reached us.

“Okay, good luck.” She smiled and handed them to me.

I pulled off the white Somatotech T-shirt in full sight of the nurses and attempted to get my old Atari t-shirt on. Kelly was right; my shirt didn’t fit. My arms, shoulders, pecs, and neck seemed bulkier and I struggled to pull my shirt down. I looked like I was trying on a little boy’s shirt. A wall in front of me had a metal panel and I saw my reflection. What the heck happened to me? I looked freaking amazing. My muscles had easily doubled in size. I was royally ripped; I had a body I never thought I would have! I had to flex, so I stroke a pose. Bam! My biceps popped and my pecs practically danced. It felt great; I thought nothing could wipe away my smile.

My dad came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder and my smile disappeared.

“Coyle, the therapy worked better than anyone expected,” he said softly.

“Dad, can we get out of here now?” I said as I pulled off my Atari shirt and replaced it with the Somatotech T-shirt.

“Sure, let’s talk in the car,” he said and turned towards the elevator.

We took the same elevator as the day I arrived exactly one hundred days prior. It rushed down almost frighteningly fast to the last five or so floors and then slowed precipitously. With a slight ring of a bell, we arrived at the base floor. We walked to the glass desk and same stoic receptionist.

“Congratulations Mr. Murray. We will see you again soon.” She smiled and indicated towards the bin with one hand.

My dad took our cell phones from the bin and we were off.

The sun shone brightly outside the Somatotech headquarters and the warmth felt unusually comforting on my skin, like a warm blanket enveloping me. We got into our car and started for home. I stared out the window as if I was in a foreign land. On the day of my admission to Somatotech, there was a deep layer of snow on the ground and the trees were naked. Now, vivid green leaves adorned the trees and the Platte River flowed strongly. The water looked different than I remembered it; not only could I see ripples, I could see millions of them bobbing and cresting. Colors were brighter, edges were sharper and it felt like I could see further than ever before. I looked up at the mountains and I swear it seemed like I could see people climbing the east face of Longs Peak. But that would be ridiculous; that mountain is at least forty miles away. I glanced above the mountains at the bluebird sky. The clouds, oh my, the clouds! I discerned every fold, puff, edge and complexity. Their constant movement and change in morphology captivated my attention. They were magnificent!

“Coyle, what do you remember of the past few months?” my dad questioned, breaking my concentration on my surroundings.

“Well, I sure remember the precise moment you stabbed me in the back,” I said frankly, as I continued to stare outside.

“Would you have agreed to all of this had you known what was entailed?”

“Dad, I didn’t even know what they were actually going to do to me. You should have given me a chance to decide.”

“Take a look at yourself Coyle, you are not only cured but the doctors say that something miraculous has happened; something that will literally change the world! The cells that Somatotech harvested from your mouth not only replaced the cancer cells but also replaced many other cells in your muscles, heart and brain. They say the cells are even more efficient, powerful and have an increased vitality.”

“What is that supposed to mean, ‘increased vitality’?” I asked suspiciously.

“It means that they may have found a way to keep people alive longer. You are the miracle; you are a living fountain of youth.” He paused then started to weep. “I won’t lose you.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He stared off into the distance.

It finally came out. I knew that was his motivation for abandoning me in that room. It was his hope, he saw it as a way to maintain life, his and mine.

“Dad, what you did was wrong. Whether it cured me or not, it was wrong. Whether it was a miracle or not, it was flat out wrong. You abandoned me and let them do all sorts of tests on me.”

“Maybe it was wrong to leave you like that; but in this case I think the end most definitely justified the means.”

I looked at my arms and felt my toned abdomen. Was it worth it?

“Why did I have to be sedated for so freakin’ long?”

“They said that they needed to alter your metabolic rate up and down to find the perfect level to target the new cells. At certain levels, the new cells are favored and begin to replace your unmodified cells. If you would have been awake they said you would have been miserable.”

“So my body is now completely filled with cells they modified?”

“Not quite, it is about 50%. Somatotech has never had a patient incorporate more adapted cells than you. That is why this is all so exciting,” he explained. “We gotta go to a lot of follow up visits to track your progress; they say you could possibly convert to 100% adapted cells.”

“Will I be me? I mean, every cell in my body will be changed, so who will I be? Some science experiment? I don’t want to go back dad; I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You are going back,” he whispered as his grip again tightened on the steering wheel.

“Dad, this sounds dangerous! If I am the only one who has made it this far, what has happened to the others? And, if I’m the only one then they don’t really know what happens at 100%. What if something goes wrong? I really don’t want to...”

“You are going back, period, end of discussion,” he yelled, interrupting me, and then calming himself down. “If you do reach 100%, you will be in perfect health and shape. You will never have to worry about getting sick, ever. I need you to trust them,” he said slowly.

As he finished we pulled up to our apartment complex. I quickly got out of the car as it stopped and ran upstairs into my room in the rear of the apartment. I collapsed on my bed, not because of fatigue, but because of the weighty thoughts that consumed my mind.

Living fountain of youth? Never get a cold, the flu? Never have to worry again about leukemia? Probably more empty promises. Another dark feeling washed over me, bringing me nearly to tears. I burrowed under the covers and tried to force myself to sleep.

6 Risks and benefits

A vivid dream enraptured me my first night home. I was lying naked and restrained in a glass tube. A green fluid almost completely immersed my body. In front of me, all I could see were a few bright lights hanging from the ceiling. A perfect silence christened my surroundings; I couldn’t even hear myself breathing. I started to panic and noticed that I couldn’t move any parts of my body. With all my effort, I tried to move, but my limbs did not respond. My eyes stared straight ahead; they didn’t blink, even with all my effort. Despite the overwhelming urge, I couldn’t scream.

I woke up shaking and sweating profusely. I tried to kick off the sheets but they stuck to my legs, restricting me. I squirmed back and forth, fighting my perceived restraints. Get off me! “Argghh!” I screamed. Hearing my voice clicked inside my mind. My surroundings finally came into view and my mind oriented to reality.

It was 5 am and I knew I wasn’t getting back to sleep so I took a shower. As I lathered the back of my now muscular neck, I noticed a small hard bump I had never felt before. It was located just to the left side of my spine. It didn’t hurt to press on it. Must be a pimple or something. I strained to see it in the mirror. My skin was raised but it wasn’t red. No pimple, it was probably coming up though, I know because I get them all the freakin’ time. I finished showering and quickly checked myself out in the mirror. I was quite the specimen! Unfortunately, Nurse Jackie was right; I needed new clothes and I didn’t want to wear that Somatotech crap for another minute. I snuck into my dad’s room and grabbed a pair of pants and a T-shirt. Even they were tight and I vowed to stop and get some new clothes as soon as I could.

The Christian summer camp that Jamie worked at sat on the shores of Lake Granby, about two hours northwest of Denver so I quickly ate some breakfast and jumped in the car before my dad could ask me where I was going.

I merged onto I-70 and sped up to 75 mph. As I approached a group of cars, I sensed the perfect path through them. I sped up to 85 mph, swerved left, and then right, around the semi-truck, slowed down to 65 mph and swerved left around a motorcycle and punched it. Cars flew by and I knew exactly where they were in relation to me. Finally, I had open real estate! I kept accelerating. I reached 90 mph and then Bucky started to shake violently so I brought him back down to the speed limit.

I stopped in Dillon and bought some clothes that actually fit. I looked dang good, and I was excited to show my new look to Jamie.

I made it to the camp in one and a half hours. I was exhilarated about my heightened senses and could not wipe the smile off my face as I pulled into the parking lot.

I made my way to the camp office to ask where I could find Jamie. They led me to her encampment and one of them went in to get her. As she walked out, I instantly saw the shock on her face.

“Coyle! You’re here! And you are, uh, wow!” she said as she wrapped her arms around me. Her hands drifted along my back and upper arms giving them a slight squeeze here and there. “What happened to you? You are different, um, much bigger.”

“They say the modified cells didn’t only cure my cancer but they got into my other body parts and I guess, made them better or something.”

“Well you look great. I’m so happy to see you healthy. I’ve missed you so much Coyle.” She gave me a solid kiss on the lips.

“I missed you too. Thank you for your letters, I didn’t have an opportunity to read them till the last day I was there. They kept me out for most of the time.” I said and laid a kiss on her. “Do you have time for a walk?”

“Let me go ask,” she replied and ran into the cabin to ask the supervisor.

The cabin stood near the shore and was surrounded by the jagged mountains of Rocky Mountain National Park. While I waited, I walked down to the camp dock. I gazed down into the gleaming water. Light seemed to illuminate the lake base. I could see hundreds of small fish, plants, rocks, and lost fishing gear all in perfect, fine detail near the bottom of the lake.

“Whatcha looking at Coyle?” Jamie asked as she latched onto my arm and peered into the water.

“My vision is freakin’ amazing; I can actually see things I couldn’t before. Take for example this lake. What can you see?”

She looked again into the shimmering water.

“Not much, I think I see a fish or two, maybe.”

“I see hundreds of fish, and not only can I see them but I can see the ridges in their fins, I can see each of their gills open and close.”

“Coyle, that’s amazing!”

“My dad said that the modified cells have replaced about 50% of my original cells.”

“What happens when you reach 100%?” she asked.

“I asked my dad the same question; he said I will reach perfect health. I won’t ever get leukemia again.” I said choking up unexpectedly.

“Wow that sounds great! So the therapy was worth it, right?”

“In some ways, for sure; but Jamie, there is something seriously off about Somatotech. They freakin’ gassed me on the first day I got there. I didn’t ask to be put out and there was obviously a reason they had to resort to that. My dad said I had to be out while they messed with my metabolic rate, but I have a sneaking suspicion they were deliberately keeping something from me.”

“What would they want to hide from you? Your dad loves you, he wouldn’t sign up for something that would do you harm.”

“I hate to admit it, but my dad isn’t the most rational human being. I know he loves me, and that is precisely why his judgment was likely impaired.”

“I still doubt he had any idea something malevolent was happening.”

“You’re probably right. But still, my dad left me there, all alone in that room without the slightest hesitation.”

“I’m sorry Coyle. What do you remember from the therapy?”

“I only woke up once during the four months. I heard some of the doctors talking. They mentioned something called a ‘Bio-imprint’ number. It sounded like they were using my cells for other things.”

“What kind of other things?”

“I was only conscious for a few minutes unfortunately, so I didn’t gather what exactly. They did mention that I was a great candidate, that my ‘Bio-imprint’ number was higher than all the other patients, or ‘candidates’ as they put it. I need to find out what that number means.”

“Who can we ask?”

“Dr. Strayer, my oncologist, seems to have a fairly in depth knowledge of Somatotech. Also, your dad is obviously familiar with the therapy. I wonder if he could shed some light on it, since he recommended them.”

“Coyle, my dad wouldn’t have recommended them if he felt they weren’t trustworthy.”

“You’re probably right, but having worked there he has to know more. I just need to talk to him.”

Jamie gave me an incredulous look. “What are you talking about? My dad never worked there.” She acted shocked.

“Yes he did, my Dad told me that he and your Dad put together the plan because he knew the place from working there.”

“Your dad is lying to you.” She raised her voice and tears began to pool in her eyes.

“My dad wouldn’t lie to me,” I said, not really believing it myself.

“Just like he wouldn’t betray you?” She gave me a sharp glare through her tears.

Oh! That hurt. It’s one thing for me to say it, but to have Jamie, my angel, say it with such force; it crushed me. Anger started to boil up inside of me. It quickly grew to consume me, seemingly incorporating into all of my tissues. I started breathing heavily, my face flushed. I had never felt such rage before. Something inside me told me to crush her pretty head in with a rock and throw her body in the lake. I should kill her for saying that.

Jamie could see the anger in my eyes. A frightened, surprised look crossed her tear-soaked face. But, instead of running, she came closer and quickly put her arms softly around me. She leaned close and put her mouth near my ear.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you. We can’t be against each other,” she whispered.

Her closeness, the warmth of her body, and the sweetness in her tone seemed to sooth the beast inside. Instead of bounding out of my chest my heart rate slowed and my breathing became more regular. What were those feelings? Such extreme emotions, so freakin’ raw, gratefully they were tamed by Jamie’s closeness.

Once I calmed down, I was able to speak again.

“I’m sorry too, Jamie. I don’t know what came over me.” My hands shook uncontrollably. She grabbed them and held them close.

“I saw it in your eyes, Coyle. I have never seen a look like that in them before,” she explained.

“I felt it. I couldn’t control it. I…I was about to hurt you.” My eyes started to tear as I thought of the terrible impulse that had gripped me.

“You would never hurt me. I know that Coyle.” Her eyes beamed trust. I wanted to trust myself, but I didn’t, not after that...

“Jamie, I need to figure out what has happened to me. Your dad does know a lot about Somatotech and the treatment they gave me, whether he worked there or not. When I get back to Englewood, I’m going to ask him. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course Coyle, my dad will answer any question you ask of him. You can trust him, I swear.”

“I thought Christians weren’t supposed to swear.” I said jokingly.

“You know what I mean,” she replied with a wink and half-hearted punch to my arm, then theatrically pretended her hand was broken. I snapped her hand up and laid a sloppy kiss on the knuckles.

“I love you Jamie,” I said staring into her misty eyes.

“I love you too, Coyle. It is so great to have you back. We can figure this all out together, I swea…uh I mean I promise.”

I kissed her, long and hard. She slipped her tongue into my mouth as she pulled me closer. We kissed for a few minutes but Jamie had to get back to her duties at the camp so we had to let go of each other.

We walked back to the cabin holding hands and I gave her one kiss on the cheek. Then I watched her as she went back in the camp cabin. She had another three weeks until she was done. I agreed to come up every weekend when she had more time in between groups.

I drove home just as rapidly as I came up. As I pulled the car into the parking lot of our apartment complex, I noticed a white van without rear windows parked in front of the stairs leading up to our apartment. I parked right next to the van. As I got out of the car, something felt wrong. Goosebumps formed on my skin and the adrenaline began to flow.

I quickly looked in the passenger side window of the van and saw no one. I heard a sound of a drill coming from my apartment. I leaped up the stairs in two giant steps and was in the apartment just as swiftly. No one was in the front room but I heard noise in the back, like someone trying to force a closed window. I ran towards my room and I heard a commotion and breaking glass. I tried the door. Locked. I had installed a deadbolt after my dad made a few rare unannounced visits to my room. I kicked the door in just below the knob without much effort. The door easily broke off its hinges and flew across the room shattering the molding. I caught a glimpse of someone dressed in black jump out of the broken window.

“Hey! Wait! Get back here!” I yelled to him.

I went to follow him but stepped on the broken glass and slipped forward. I outstretched my arm to catch my fall and it landed on the windowsill. A large shard of glass lodged deep into my forearm. I screamed out in pain, slowly lifting myself to my feet. I looked out the window, but no one was in sight. Tires screeched and I knew he had gotten away.

“Dangit!”

I started bleeding profusely around the glass shard. I ran down to my car to get my cell phone. I frantically called Dr. Strayer.

“Hello, this is Dr. Strayer.” He answered on the second ring.

“Dr. Strayer, its Coyle. I need your help!”

“What is going on Coyle? Where have you been?” he responded.

“I’m bleeding; I fell on some glass and cut my arm.”

“Can you make it to the hospital or should I call you an ambulance?”

Gratefully, the hospital was only a mile from my home so I opted to drive. I wrapped a towel carefully around the wound and piece of glass and raced to the hospital as he instructed. Dr. Strayer was waiting for me at the ER entrance.

He took me back to an examination room and removed the towel. The bleeding had stopped. He did a quick examination of the wound and slowly removed the glass. He applied pressure to the wound with a pack of gauze and then examined the wound again. There was no bleeding. Dr. Strayer was astonished.

“Well, this sure wouldn’t have stopped bleeding so fast six months ago. You could have died from a cut like this. What happened at Somatotech?” he asked while probing the injury.

I told him everything, including what happened at my apartment, while he cleaned out the wound and sutured it closed.

“I knew it! Those sons of bi..., oh excuse me, bad habit I’m trying to kick. I knew there was something wrong Coyle. I want you to come here every week so I can give you a physical; I’m worried about potential side effects from this type of therapy.”

“Will do, Dr. Strayer. Thanks for helping me.”

“Again, feel free to call me anytime. I’m going to pull my doctor strings and find out some more about Dr. Tessel. Be careful out there.”

As I left the hospital, I looked at my watch and realized my dad would be getting home soon. I needed to clean up my room before he arrived, I would prefer this to be a secret.

I arrived home and ran up the stairs again. I first stopped in my dad’s room and found his tools. The doorframe was cracked but I was able to attach the hinges of the door. I put a few small screws in the molding and frame to hold it all together. Hopefully, my dad wouldn’t notice. Before the therapy he didn’t come in my room much, no reason that should change now.

The window was a bigger problem. I first swept up the broken glass and disposed of it in the dumpster in the parking lot. I noticed a large cardboard box next to the dumpster. I cut it in the shape of the window and duct taped it into place in the windowsill. I then stapled up a blanket over the entire window. My room went dark. Maybe my dad would think I was going Goth.

I was putting away my dad’s tools when I heard a car pulling up. I quickly shoved the tools under his bed and ran to the front room to turn on the TV. The doorbell rang. I could hear through the door that the person’s heart was racing and he or she was breathing heavily. I looked out the peephole. Nurse Kelly stood outside my door in her white scrubs. I opened the door.

“Coyle! Are you okay?” she said with a sense of urgency.

“What do you mean? How did you know?”

“I heard from the hospital that you had an accident.” She looked concerned.

No way would Dr. Strayer tell her. How did she find out?

“Why would the hospital notify you?”

“Coyle, you are a miracle. The medical world is just as excited as we are about the results. They offered their professional courtesy to let us know if you are ever in trouble.”

Oh great, now I’m being watched. Did Dr. Strayer know about this?

“Can I see your arm?” She noticed the bandage on my arm. I had forgotten to roll down my sleeve.

“No you cannot. I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?”

“No. Why do you need to come in?”

“I’m concerned about you. I want to make sure everything is okay. I will be brief. Can I?”

“Sure,” I finally conceded and motioned with my arm for her to come in. Maybe I could get some more information out of her.

“Make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?” Time to play the nice guy.

“Some water would be nice, thank you,” she said as she sat down on our couch.

Man I wish I had some drug with me to slip in her drink, I thought. A malevolent thought, I know, but something shady had been going on and I may need to stoop to their level. But alas, I didn’t have anything so she would get purified water instead.

I poured a glass for both of us and handed her one.

“Thank you Coyle. The hospital only told me that you had an accident and were stable. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Kelly, I’m fine. It was just a little cut,” as the words left my mouth I instantly regretted it.

“A cut? What did you cut your arm on? Did you lose a lot of blood?”

I really didn’t want to give her anything; she was supposed to be answering to me. Besides, it was probably one of her company cronies that paid my apartment a visit.

“I slipped, it is no big deal. I got it checked out and was discharged.”

“I’m glad they checked you out, but I would really like an opportunity to see your arm for myself,” she said with a more serious look on her face.

“Kelly, no. I already told you.” I could feel the frustration start to boil up from deep inside.

“Coyle, we as your healthcare providers have put a lot of time and effort into ensuring your health, we just want to make sure everything is going well.”

“It’s my freakin’ body lady! I dictate what happens to it from now on. You all screwed with it back there in the lab and it’s not going to happen again!” Pure hate surged through my veins. I should kill this sorry excuse for a nurse. Scum working for scum.

I stood up right in front of her. My breathing was fast and hard. My muscles were bulging. My thoughts were wild. Kelly scooted back on the couch, obviously afraid. I could hear her heart rate increase and I saw small beads of sweat form on her skin. I frantically looked around the room for something to hit her with, something hard and heavy sure to crush her skull. Her eyes seemed to dart with mine. I caught a glance of the weighted base of our brass stand-up lamp, perfect. I was about to run towards it when the front door opened and my dad walked in wearing his work uniform.

“Coyle, what is going on here? Hi Kelly.” He looked concerned.

I had to calm down, immediately. I closed my eyes, imagined Jamie with her soft skin, caring eyes, and soothing voice. ‘We can’t be against each other.’ Her voice slipped sweetly into my mind. My breathing slowed. I started to shake slightly, coming down from the high.

“Coyle are you okay?” my dad asked as he approached me and placed his hand on my shoulder. I briskly shook it off.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I was definitely not okay. I would have killed Kelly had he not come in when he did. Before this therapy, the only violent impulses I ever had were directed at my brother, and always after he would steal my toys. My mom had always abhorred violence. Now, I can hardly control it. The urge to destroy flows through my veins like it is part of me, seemingly hardwired in.

“I was just checking on Coyle, seems he had an accident.” She pointed to my arm.

My dad came over to me and outstretched my arm.

“What the hell happened to you?” He stared at my arm.

Screw it. I unwrapped the bandage on my forearm. The wound was clean. Nurse Kelly came over to inspect it. She carefully squeezed on either side of it, inspecting the sutures. No bleeding. She smiled.

“Coyle, how did you get this?” my dad asked.

I hesitated but realized there was no use stalling. “When I got home someone was in the apartment. I heard him in my room so I went in there. He had broken the window to get out and I slipped on some of the glass. My arm fell on a shard in the windowsill. I went right to the hospital and Dr. Strayer took care of me,” I explained.

“Dr. Strayer? He isn’t an emergency doctor, he’s an oncologist, why did he treat you?” my dad asked with a tone of incredulity.

“I called him, he offered to help. It was much quicker that way, and as you can see he did a great job.” I defended him, holding up my arm.

“Well I’m grateful you were able to get the help you needed so quickly. Dr. Strayer was your oncologist, correct?” Nurse Kelly asked.

“Yes, he was. But, we obviously won’t be requiring his services anymore,” my dad responded before I could.

“I’m concerned about whoever was in your room when you came home. Many companies out there would love to know how we accomplished this miracle. Can we take a look in your room?”

“Please do,” said my dad before I could object.

Dang it, I should have searched it myself.

I walked to my room flanked by my Dad and Kelly. I entered first but Kelly pushed her way past me. She pulled out a tablet from her satchel. She turned it on, tapped on an app and started scanning around the room with her arms outstretched holding the tablet.

“What are you doing? You better not be taking pictures.”

“No pictures. This detects whether a camera or recording device has been placed by analyzing changes in electromagnetic fields.”

I glanced at the tablet. On the screen was a grid of horizontally and vertically oriented green lines with straight blue lines radiating from the center. She scanned towards the ceiling and the blue lines curved as she passed the light. Then she scanned across my bookshelf and the blue lines curved again.

“Gotcha” she exclaimed triumphantly.

On the top shelf between my cross-country trophy and a framed picture of my mom, she pointed to a small black box with a lens and antenna screwed to the wall.

“Medita…” She stopped herself and hesitated. “Uh…Someone was interested in spying on you.”

“What is Medita?” I asked.

She obviously didn’t mean to let that one out and it showed on her face. She started blushing.

“Medital is a company we are in competition with. I recognize this particular type of camera.”

“Why would they want to spy on me?”

“Much can be learned by simple observation. I will need to look through the rest of your place for additional cameras.”

“Absolutely, please do,” my dad replied.

She scanned room by room and found an additional three cameras hidden behind books, in an air conditioning vent, and behind the medicine cabinet in the wall. The intruder had screwed a small hole next to it and fed in a small fiber optic camera. He was going to watch me shower, dang pervert.

After Kelly finished, she gathered up all of the parts and placed them in a plastic bin she had fetched from her car. She said she needed to get back to the clinic and reminded me about my appointment. As she left, I noticed the look she gave my dad. Her eyebrows raised and she nodded slightly seeming to indicate that he was to keep an eye on me.

“Dad, this is freaking crazy. We are being watched now.”

“Somatotech will take care of it. Trust them. You are one of their greatest assets.”

“I’m not an asset, I’m a human being.”

I started to become angry. A switch flipped within my mind almost instantly. My breathing became heavy and rushed again. I could feel sweat beading up on my forehead. To avoid doing something I would regret, I ran off to my room and locked the door behind me.

“Coyle, we are not done here…I wish you would be nicer to Nurse Kelly,” he yelled after me.

My head throbbed as I tried to calm down. I grabbed my phone and pulled up pictures of Jamie. Focusing on her face my heart rate slowed. I laid there for a few minutes and then sat up. I pulled out my computer and did a search for Medital. I opened the first link and noted that the company’s name was actually Medital Healthcare Industries or MHI as it showed on their website. “The world leader in medical bioengineering.” A quick news search revealed a recent article that reviewed their decline as Somatotech stock rose. One advancement after another, Somatotech made it to the market in advance to Medital. Plenty of incentive to spy on Somatotech’s ‘greatest asset’ I thought. I wonder how they knew I was a Somatotech patient? What would they learn from spying on me in my room anyway?

7 Dreams and memories

The next morning I drove straight to Pastor Anderson’s house. I had a major bone to pick with him. This time I didn’t care about the appearance of my crappy car in their fancy driveway.

Pastor Anderson opened the door as I climbed up to their front porch. He seemed always to do that, kind of annoying to tell you the truth.

“Coyle, welcome back!” he said with his ‘church’ smile.

“Pastor, I have some questions for you,” I said as I pushed my way into his home. I made sure he felt my shoulder; it has a little more oomph now.

I stopped in their foyer, turned, and began to speak but he cut me off. He told me how well I was looking, how the therapy will change the world, and how he and Jamie had prayed for me every day. He obviously didn’t know my intention with this visit.

“Why did you stop working for Somatotech?” I blurted out.

“Wha..” he was surprised and hesitated. “So I guess your dad told you. I should have expected that. I apologize for being esoteric.” Again, he paused. “Let’s go somewhere to speak in private. How about the church? I can drive.”

I agreed to go, but declined a ride. I followed him to his church, The Third Church of The Trinity. It was an Anglican Church, whatever that meant. I didn’t really understand why it was the Third, shouldn’t there only be one?

Jamie had urged me to attend with her on Sundays multiple times but I had declined. Instead, I would come on Wednesday nights, youth night. It seemed less religious and stiff than the Sunday worship service. Jamie and I would sneak off to the hallway behind the main chapel. The hallway leads to the storage room and is behind a locked door. Jamie had a key because she took on the role of assistant youth leader and needed access to the PA system. She had said that kissing was not allowed in the church; but the frequency of our visit to that dark hall resulted in the rules being bent a little. We had both agreed to limit ourselves to hugs. It became a weekly occurrence, during the activity we would each sneak off separately and meet at the hall. Many times, she would hold me extra tightly, as if she thought something would rip me away from her at any moment. We knew her father would notice if our absence lasted too long, so we would slip back in after only a few sweet minutes. Aedan would leave the activity with me to make it seem like we were hanging out together. No one had seemed to notice. In fact, most of the church members seemed content with smiles and small talk. They never pried, unlike the church my dad had us attend. While I didn’t always appreciate the message from Pastor Anderson’s pulpit, the church had a good feel. Whether this was due to my feelings for Jamie or the ‘spirit’ as the good Pastor described, I wasn’t entirely sure.

When we arrived, the Pastor directed me to his office behind the chapel. He closed the door behind me and sat down in his large leather chair. Pastor Anderson had interesting church-wide policies including preventing anything coming between him and his ‘flock’ so he had no desk in his office. We sat facing each other. I let him speak first, my eyes fixed coolly on his.

“Coyle, again I’m sorry for not being up front about my dealings with Somatotech. What would you like to know?” His expression was sincere.

Wow, I’m finally going to get some answers for a change.

“What did you do there?”

“I earned a Ph.D. in molecular biology from Stanford. During my last year there, a physician named Dr. Tessel approached me. He was starting a new company which promised almost unlimited funding for a project I had started as part of my dissertation.”

“What was that project?” I asked.

“The very therapy you received. I am sure they have modified it, but the basics are the same. It was an extremely exciting time, as it is now seeing that it has come to fruition.” He motioned towards me.

“Why doesn’t Jamie know about your time there?”

“I worked there for seven years, from 1989 to 1996. Jamie was born in 1995. I had an awakening when she was born. I found out that many of the results from a particular wing of Somatotech were fabricated. Blatantly false, no question. This wasn’t the stem cell research area from which your therapy came but the cellular growth department. I confronted the division supervisor who did nothing so I moved up the ladder and brought the issue up with Dr. Tessel himself. He made it quite clear that the company deserved absolute loyalty and wouldn’t tolerate any degree of dissidence. He threatened me with my job and promised continued growth and funding if I minded my own research. I would come home to my sweet new baby daughter and I realized I wouldn’t want my daughter growing up with a father who had given up his integrity. So, I put in my resignation. They tried to deprive me of my stock options but my lawyer succeeded in securing them. In the last ten years the stock has grown over 500% which is how we live so comfortably.”

“But, why would you recommend them, if they are obviously corrupt? Why risk my life?” My heart rate began to pick up.

“I know it looks bad, but I really do believe in the therapy. I was on the brink of changing the entire world. Only a few hiccups in the research stopped me before I was ousted. I knew they could figure it out, they hired the best and the brightest. It was your best hope. Jamie urged me to help, and this was the best way I knew how. Again, I’m sorry for not being more up front.”

I couldn’t fault him for wanting to help.

“When did you decide to become a pastor?”

“After I resigned Dr. Tessel black listed me, I couldn’t get a job anywhere. I tried with other bioengineering firms and they all shut me down. I even tried at different government organizations including the National Institutes of Health but no one would even grant me an interview. The stress started to build and my wife urged me to start coming to church with her. I met a great pastor there. His connection with his congregation inspired me. His integrity shone forth through his interactions, everyone trusted him and he didn’t fail them, ever. It was in stark contrast to my experience at Somatotech and was exactly what I was looking for. So, I applied for the seminary. I had no religious inclination at the time, but that grew over time. Now I look forward to serving the Lord and his children each day. ”

“Why haven’t you told Jamie? I know she would understand if you told her.”

“Very true, she is an angel. The time will come when I will need to tell her. And from the looks of it that will be sooner rather than later.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I will leave it to you to tell her, you can trust me.” And I would too; my mother always told me, “A man who keeps his word keeps his friends”.

“Coyle, if you ever need help, please come to me.”

I thanked him and left, my trust and respect restored.

That night I had another twisted dream. I was back in that bright operating room strapped to the table, but this time I was naked and cold. Suddenly my arms and legs moved, but not under my control. They strained against the restraints. I could feel my heart racing. Involuntarily I screamed, but it was unintelligible, more of a howl or moan. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. The same glass door slid open and a man dressed in a white biohazard suit walked in with a tray of syringes.

I yelled, again an odd howl, the man stoically did not respond. Similar to my prior experience, the man seemed intent on one purpose. As he pushed the medication through the IV, I convulsed, biting my tongue. Then, I awoke.

I sat up in my bed gasping for air and covered in sweat. These dreams were the most vivid and realistic I had ever experienced. All of my senses were involved. I could smell the anesthetic in the room. I felt the warm tears roll down my face. The terror of forced restraint seized my heart. In the end, I tasted the salty blood in my mouth.

Once I calmed down, I pulled out my computer and recorded it in detail. Normal dreams were easily forgotten, but not these, they ingrained themselves in my mind like memories from the day prior. After a few dreams, I had a realization. I became aware of my inability to alter these dreams, despite their vividness. All of my senses involved and thus my mind desperately desired to react, to modify the situation. The person I was in the dreams would not respond but my mind maintained a separate consciousness. I didn’t dream every night, but when I did, I recorded it.

Dream #2, 6/7/2014

In a video room. Letters and words flashed across the screen at increasing speeds, then numbers. I didn’t move a single finger. My eyes fixed on the screen. Felt like hours. Room went dark and I awoke.

Dream #3, 6/10/2014

I am sitting at a table with a white plate, a blue translucent cup, and fork and knife before me. On the plate sat a small serving of penne pasta. I awkwardly grabbed the fork near the tines and attempted to pick up some pasta. A blonde haired woman approached me.

“Coyle, use the fork correctly, hold it by the handle.” Her voice had a harsh tone.

“Yes, Ma’am. I sorry,” I responded. The words came out slowly and deliberate, as if I had to force them.

“I’m sorry, use a verb!” she screamed.

“I’m sorry.”

I proceeded to grasp the fork by the handle and slowly skew a single piece of pasta and raise it to my mouth. I closed my mouth around it and tasted it with my tongue. The flavor was magnificent, perfectly cooked pasta, just the right amount of salt, and with obviously freshly made tomato sauce. Involuntarily, after chewing it a few times, I spit it out onto the plate.

“No Mrs. Tolbert, no like.”

“Coyle, eat the damn food!” she violently threw down the notebook she was holding.

I awoke.

Dream #4, 6/14/2014.

I was sitting at a large opaque glass desk. Suddenly multiple small colored circles appeared on the surface of the desk. A large blue rectangle appeared at the top and the lights began to move randomly and turn on and off. I quickly moved my hands and tapped the blue lights. The rectangle turned red and the circles moved faster. My hands were swift and accurate only tapping the red circles. The color changed again and my hands moved even faster, I could hardly perceive them. Eventually, I tapped the ‘wrong’ color and the table and room went black.

I awoke.

Dream #5, 6/20/2014.

I was holding an assault rifle in a shooting range. A loud bell rang and red lights flashed. Cardboard men dressed in keffiyehs and thawbs suddenly popped up. I shot them between the eyes. My finger was light on the trigger producing short bursts of fire. Other cardboard men dressed in U.S. army uniforms popped up, my rifle quickly pointed away from them. Faster and faster, the men popped up. Bam, bam, bam. I never missed. The bell rang again and the red lights stopped flashing. A score of 100 displayed on a screen above the range. I confidently placed the rifle down on the table and turned around. An older man in uniform approached me. I saluted and he grinned. At that point, I awoke.

Dream #6, 6/24/2014.

Once again, I’m in the video room. Pictures of my family displayed on the screen with their names below repeatedly for many minutes. A video then started of my birthday parties beginning at age one. My mom always insisted my dad filmed them all. More pictures, then a narrator’s voice began describing major life events including my mom’s death and my dad’s response. My eyes dried and I had an intense desire to blink. No blink. My consciousness focused intensely on this task. After what seemed like an eternity, I forced a single refreshing blink. Me in my dream flinched and I sensed a slight confusion but then I continued to watch. After a few hours, the lights went dark and I awoke.

My dreams had a theme, my education. I was treated as a child, learning to walk, talk, eat, and read. Three people seemed to be my primary teachers, Mrs. Tolbert and two assistants, one older male and one young female. I never caught their names before the dreams would end. They were kinder to me than Mrs. Tolbert. She was a freakin’ witch.

Dream #7, 6/28/2014.

I’m jogging on a treadmill with multiple wires attached to my chest. Two men are in the room with me, one at a computer workstation and the other pressing buttons on the treadmill console. He increased the speed sequentially every few seconds by three miles per hour. My legs moved faster and faster. I reached twenty-five miles per hour and hardly broke a sweat. At about thirty miles per hour my feet had a difficult time keeping up and the test was ended. Sweat drenched my body. My consciousness yearned to wipe it from my brow. Focusing again, my hand jerkily raised and clumsily slopped across my face. Dream me fought it, I could feel the intense confusion. The two men in the room looked concerned. They mumbled something, which sounded like ‘seizure’, and I awoke.

Dream #8, 6/29/2014

Once again in the video room. The screen is black and the same narrator begins speaking. “Somatotech is the reason you are alive. Somatotech provides hope for all humanity. There are many threats to Somatotech. They must be eliminated. Your training is complete and you are well prepared. With the help and guidance of the United States Army, your mission will be fulfilled. Your first target is…” Unfortunately, I awoke before I could hear who the target was.

Dream #9, 6/30/2014

I’m laying in a soft bed situated centrally in a stark white room. A file folder stamped ‘Confidential’’ is in my hand and I am perusing the papers within. One of the paper’s titles is ‘Mission Targets’. It is stuffed behind other papers so I can’t read it. A map of a neighborhood in Denver is on the first page. I studied an outlined path to a home in the middle of a block. My curiosity got the better of me. I needed to know who the target is. I focused on the paper marked ‘Mission Targets’. My left hand shuddered and dropped the papers onto the bed. They splayed out on my chest. I tried to force my head down to look at them but I could feel ‘dream’ me fighting back intensely. “Dr. Tessel! It is happening again,” dream me yelled. I awoke.

8 Alignment

I had my appointment with Dr. Strayer that morning so I lied to my dad about meeting Aedan at the gym. Dr. Strayer told me to come in the back entrance of the hospital and to wear my hooded sweatshirt. He met me at the door and led me to his department.

Ensuring the door closed behind me, he asked, “Coyle, how are you feeling?”

“Fine… actually, great. My body always feels great.”

“Can I examine you?” he pulled out his stethoscope.

“Of course.” I took off my shirt and he listened to my heart and lungs.

He was pressing on my neck to check for lymph nodes as he had done hundreds of times before when he paused in the area of the bump I had felt in the shower. He focused his palpation on this area for a few moments, his diagnostic gears turning in his head.

“What is that? I felt it in the shower,” I asked.

“I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel like a lymph node, it is harder, more defined.”

“I didn’t have it before my stay at Somatotech, right?”

“No, no you didn’t. I would like to take some pictures, is that okay?”

I agreed and he proceeded to take a few pictures with his camera and then he pulled out his portable ultrasound machine. He squirted warm gel on my neck and placed the transducer directly over the bump. He scanned back and forth for a minute and then paused.

“Coyle, there is a foreign body in the subcutaneous tissue of your neck. It has a tubular shape. I think we need to take an x-ray.”

“Can we get it done now?”

“We can attempt it. But, I will have to sneak you in. It is imperative that no one knows you are here. The moment Somatotech is aware, this...” he gestured to himself then to me “...is all over. Wait here.”

He left the room for a few minutes and returned with a wheelchair, hospital gown, surgical cap and mask.

“Put these on.”

I threw the gown on over my clothes and slipped on the cap and mask.

Dr. Strayer had a medical chart in his hand. I glanced at the name ‘Joseph Miller, M, DOB: 09/13/1999. MRN 8332319’ He noticed me looking at it.

“I can’t get a radiograph done without an order, but we don’t want it in your name or they will be instantly alerted. Therefore, you are now Joseph Miller. The order is in for an anterior posterior and lateral neck radiograph.”

Joseph was another patient of his, and was scheduled for an appointment later that day.

As he wheeled me down the corridor towards radiology, I kept my head down. He approached the front desk.

“This is Joseph Miller; he’s here for his radiograph.”

“Dr. Strayer? You don’t normally bring your own patients down. Are you slow up there?” said the lady at the desk, apparently surprised to see Dr. Strayer perform a task normally reserved for the hospital volunteers.

“I thought it would be quicker than calling transport,” he responded in stride.

She walked around the desk with a portable scanner. Dr. Strayer’s face went pale. She looked at my arms.

“Where is his identification band?”

“I…I don’t know,” he stumbled.

She looked confused and began searching around the wheelchair.

Time to pull out my acting skills. “I took it off, sorry. It was bothering my arm. I have skin sensitivity from the chemotherapy,” I said in my most convincing sick sounding voice.

“I’m sorry it bothered you Joseph, but you have to keep it on. Otherwise, we could make a mistake and give you the wrong therapy or test. You will have to go back to registration and get another one before we can proceed with the exam.”

Oh freak. I glanced to Dr. Strayer in desperation.

“Julie, we are in quite a hurry right now, this is holding up his therapy. Time is of the essence for him.” He moved closer to her ear and whispered. “He may only have another month to live.”

She gave me a sympathetic look, then looked back at the desk and gave a big sigh.

“Okay, but Dr. Strayer you are responsible for this and I will have to record that he didn’t have his band. Please don’t let it happen again.”

He quickly wheeled me back to the room and the technologist shot the x-ray. We left just as quickly, rushing down the hall towards his office.

“Dr. Strayer! Did you see what is in his neck?” the technologist yelled, running towards us.

“I saw. Please maintain patient confidentiality and don’t yell out patient findings,” said Dr. Strayer is his patriarchal doctor voice.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” The technologist sheepishly returned to the x-ray room and we continued down the hall.

“Dr. Strayer, I have been having these dreams, dreams about Somatotech and me. But they seem more than simple dreams. I could feel everything from emotions to the taste of the food they gave me... In them I basically had to relearn everything, how to eat, talk, walk, and run. I met Dr. Tessel, a Mrs. Tolbert and other people who were training me.”

A nurse walked by causing Dr. Strayer to pause before responding. I kept my head down.

“When did the dreams start?” he whispered.

“Right after I got home from Somatotech. Do you think they reprogrammed me? Like they had to erase me to fix me?”

“I don’t know. Based on the research I have done on their therapy I don’t see any reason for it.”

We finally arrived in his office and he closed the door behind us.

“But,” Dr. Strayer rubbed his temples. “I will have to look into it.”

“Also, in the last few, I swear I could control me, you know, me in the dream.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Strayer curled his eyebrows.

“If I focused hard enough I could make me in the dream do my bidding. By the last dream it was like me in the dream became aware that I could control him.”

“That’s odd. Next time you have one, call me immediately, okay?” He glanced at his watch. “We better hurry.”

He pulled up the radiographs on his computer. He gasped as the first image came up. He turned the monitor so I could see. Just under my skin in my neck was an oval shaped object with internal circuitry about a centimeter long and a half a centimeter wide.

“What the hell is that?” he thought aloud.

His phone rang, startling the both of us.

“This is Dr. Strayer.”

His face went pale as he listened to the response. I could hear someone yelling on the other end. The conversation ended and he laid down the receiver quickly.

“Get out of here now Coyle!” he yelled.

I shot up and moved towards the door, adrenaline already surging through my veins.

“No! Not out the door, go out the window. They’re coming!”

“Who are they?”

“Go!”

I ran to the window and threw it open. Thank goodness, his office was on the first floor. I crawled out and heard a commotion behind me. I glanced back and saw two men in dark suits enter Dr. Strayer’s office. One of them caught sight of me and lunged towards the window. His hand caught the hood of my sweatshirt and yanked me back towards the room. I squirmed, raising my arms above my head to let my hoodie slip off. He grasped again searching for something solid to grab onto but I had escaped. I ran faster than ever, my legs working more efficiently than ever before. My strides were long and perfectly coordinated. I was at my car in less than a minute. That was my new favorite hoodie, dang it, doubt I will get that back.

My phone rang. Restricted Number. Not going to answer that. I jumped in my car and speedily left the parking lot. My phone rang again. I was always a sucker for persistence. I answered it and put it on speakerphone.

“Hello.”

“Coyle Murray?”

“Yes” I said with an air of suspicion.

“Coyle, this is Staff sergeant Williams of the United States Army recruiting office. How are you?”

I was breathing hard from the sprint. “A little out of breath. Why are you calling me?”

“We regularly speak with guidance counselors at high schools and yours recommended I call you to see if you would be interested in learning more about the Army.”

“I have a guidance counselor? I’ve never met him or her.”

“He spoke very highly of you. How you have overcome significant adversity. Your dad also recommended I call you.”

What? My dad has never indicated he wanted me to look into the military. My mom was completely against it, so I couldn’t see my dad ‘recommending’ it.

“Could we meet up sometime? We have some excellent scholarship opportunities to help with College.”

College, I hadn’t even thought about furthering my education since developing leukemia. The future seemed meaningless. Cancer has a way of forcing you into the present. But now, college? Before I had thought about going into computer science, I had always been good with computers. I had set up my own Linux network for my friends to access all our shared music and movies.

Sensing my thought process, he continued. “Your dad mentioned that with your prior illness your thoughts haven’t really been on the future. We can offer you a great future. The army wants you to join the team that always wins. How about we meet at the Corner Café on Friday August 23 at noon for lunch? My treat.”

I was also always a sucker for free food, especially from my favorite place. And it was more than two weeks out, I would probably forget about it anyway.

“Sure. Can I bring a friend?” Random person calling and wanting to meet at a restaurant, I’m definitely not going alone.

Silence. He didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity.

“Sure. See you soon,” he finally replied. Click.

I was almost home by the time our conversation ended. I noticed several black SUVs parked on the road outside the parking lot of my apartment building. As I approached, the car doors opened in unison and a few men in suits came out. I parked in my usual spot and nonchalantly walked up to our apartment. I could hear my dad speaking with another man who had a familiar voice. The door was already open and I could see my father speaking with a brown and gray haired man in a dark suit.

“Coyle, what the hell are you doing? I heard you were at Dr. Strayer’s office.”

Good to see you too dad. The man turned around and I instantly recognized him. Dr. Tessel. He obviously hadn’t dyed his hair recently as the roots were all gray. His beady eyes and wry smile screamed mistrust.

“Mr. Murray, it is good to see you again. I apologize for the intrusion and for not introducing myself earlier,” he said deliberately.

“You need no introduction Dr. Tessel. I know all about you and what you do,” I snidely replied.

“Coyle!” Fire burned in my dad’s eyes.

“Then you know how I have developed the cure for the most devastating disease of all, cancer. Even the very cancer that would have taken your life. Coyle, you should know that I am the reason you can kiss your girlfriend Jamie and tell her you love her. I’m sure she has noticed that I have harnessed the very essence of life to improve every aspect of your body.” His face flushed and his eyes began to appear wild. “Given all that we have done for you, we, including your father, expect certain things from you.” Some spittle flew from his mouth. “Let me articulate them clearly. Dr. Strayer will no longer see you and vice versa. You will attend your appointments at Somatotech, and our press events. Finally, you will participate in our body training activities.”

“Body training activities?” I questioned.

“You have a new body, one that should be almost foreign to you. You require some capacitation to control and eventually harness its true power. Think of it as personal training.”

“I don’t need training.” I said quietly, barely holding in my dislike of the man.

“Son, you are being quite disrespectful. This doctor and his team not only saved your life, but also improved it. You should be grateful,” said my dad in his all too familiar lecturing tone.

He did have a point. I never have had so much hope for the future, so much promise. My future is brighter than ever with this improved body. I recognize that, but the way I was treated, the secrecy, the methods, they all seemed shady. It was supposed to be my choice.

“I’m grateful,” I said quietly. This was not the time to act out again.

“Good boy, I knew we could come to an agreement. Well I must be off. Thank you Mr. Murray, we will be in touch. Coyle.” He nodded towards me as he stood up. His condescending eyes fixated on me as he left, obviously trying to send me some telepathic message like, ‘don’t screw this up punk.’

My dad stood up as well and closed the door behind them.

“Don’t you dare pull another stunt like that.”

“Whatever, Dad.” I stomped back to my room. Crack! I slammed the door, breaking the frame just a little more.

9 Publicity

That Saturday afternoon I drove to Jamie’s camp. I relished the weekends when I could see her. Our trust in each other permitted full disclosure, well, except the details about her father, which were not mine to disclose.

“Coyle!” She threw her arms around me.

“Jamie, I missed you so much.” My heart swelled. Sure doesn’t sound manly but it was the truth. I had never experienced the uninhibited joy that being with Jamie engendered.

“I missed you too,” she said, holding me tight.

We took a stroll to the edge of Lake Granby and sat on a bench looking towards Twin Peaks. We talked about the comings and goings at the camp. A new youth pastor had taken over and apparently shaken things up a bit, however much a Christian camp can be shaken. She then asked about my dad and I told her about the visit from Dr. Tessel.

“He sounds awful!”

“He’s a snake, slimy as all get out.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Right now I don’t have much of a choice. Until I can find out more, I will go along with everything. I want them to trust me.”

“What does your dad think about all of this?”

“He’s all hopped up on them. He blew up on me when I voiced even a smidgen of dissent.”

“You understand where he is coming from, right?” she said sympathetically.

“I do. I most definitely do. And I understand my responsibility to Somatotech. I don’t deny that I owe my new life to them; but there are some things which are not right.” I paused, gathering some thoughts. “My mom always taught me that if an action is wrong, even if something apparently positive results from it, it is still wrong. So, I may be cured, but that doesn’t absolve Somatotech’s actions if they were in the first place, as you would put it, ‘sinful’.”

“What evidence do you have that they are ‘sinning’?” She winked.

“Not much, mainly a feeling I get. Dr. Strayer sure doesn’t trust them. I saw him yesterday.”

“What for?”

I told her about my agreement with Dr. Strayer and the bump on my neck; which she proceeded to touch with curiosity.

“He doesn’t know what it is either. Just as we were about to discuss it, his phone rang. I don’t know who it was but it really freaked him out. Then, after he got off the phone he told me to run and two guys in suits came into the room and tried to get me.”

“Why would someone try to get you?”

“Apparently Dr. Strayer is a threat to them. The Snake said I’m not supposed to see him anymore.”

“The Snake?”

“Dr. Tessel, remember?”

“Gotcha, so are you going see him again?”

“Who? Dr. Strayer? For sure. He’s the only doc I trust.”

“If you trust him, I trust him too. Remember you can always talk to my dad.”

“Yeah,” Apparently he hadn’t told her yet. He’s probably waiting to do it in person. “Jamie, I’ve been having some weird dreams lately,” I said changing the subject. “In them, I’m at a Somatotech lab and the staff there has me do all sorts of tasks, like they were reprogramming me.”

“We all have crazy dreams sometimes.”

“These are different Jamie. They feel real, like really real. I can feel everything that happens in them. I am beginning to think they may be more than dreams. Maybe they are memories. Maybe they messed with me so much that I they had to re-teach me my life.”

“That seems like an awful lot to do.”

“I was under for months, who knows what they did to me? Another funny thing is, sometimes I feel like I could alter these dreams. Like I can change what I do in them.”

“I’ve heard of dream manipulation, maybe with all your therapy your mind can control them. Who knows, maybe your mind is so active with all the new cells that it needs to create elaborate dreams while you sleep.”

“Could be. It just gives me an odd feeling.”

“Enough, let’s go swimming!” She gave me a quick hug.

“Okay, okay.”

We walked over to the camp pool. Since it was the weekend, the place was abandoned. We put our things down on one of the pool chairs. I watched as she pulled down her skirt to reveal her swimsuit bottoms. As she did, her bottoms came down a bit as well. On her right cheek was a round brown mark about the size of a quarter. She caught me looking and quickly pulled up her swimsuit.

“What are you looking at?” She grinned and winked.

“Is that a birthmark?” I probed.

“Sure is. Kinda ugly, huh?”

“Nothing about you is ugly.” I meant it. Her skin had taken on a silky brown tint and glistened with a slight sheen of sweat. She pulled off her tank top to reveal her tight pink tankini.

“What are you waiting for? Get your clothes off.” She caught me staring again.

“Okay, okay. Just enjoying the view, jeez!” A seductive smile crossed her lips but before I could make a move, she dove into the pool. I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. I dove in underneath her and tickled her feet before coming up.

“Hey! None of that, you know my weakness.”

“I couldn’t resist, sorry.”

“How fast do you think you can swim with your new body?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see!”

I synchronized my arm and leg movements and moved swiftly through the water going from one side of the fifty-meter pool to the other in only a few seconds. A small wake formed behind me as I sped up. As I got the hang of it, I could push off from one end and easily stay under the water to the other side. I swam up to Jamie and gave her a quick kiss on her wet cheek as I passed.

“Hey, wait up!”

She grasped my shoulders and hopped on top of my back.

“Giddy up, you fish!”

“Ready? Hold your breath!”

She held tight around my neck as I dove straight to the bottom of the deep end. The pressure made my ears pop. I rotated her to be in front of me and pulled her close. Her hair floated above her head like a halo swaying in the slight current streaming through the pool. I gently rested my hand behind her head and brought her lips close. She made up the last few inches, pressing her soft and wet lips on mine. After this kiss, she pulled her head back just enough to meet my eyes. She mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and then pushed off the bottom. She shot up to the surface and I watched her silhouette from below. Rays of the sun split the water between her arms and legs illuminating the floor of the pool.

No urge to breathe came over me. The air in my lungs seemed sufficient, as if I could extract every last molecule of oxygen from a single breath. I could see Jamie looking down at me. She beckoned me to come up. Time to test my ability. I laid back on the pool floor and closed my eyes.

In the quiet isolation of the water, I found myself alone with my thoughts. Other than my mom, Jamie was the best thing to ever happen to me. Truthfully, I was happy only when I was with her. Almost every other moment emptiness would find me. I could even feel it creeping up on me as I lay there. Focusing on the thought of Jamie floating above kept it at bay.

Eventually, I felt the familiar tightness begin to form in my chest. I sat up and pushed off hard with my legs. I shot out of the pool well above the water. “Whoa!” I tipped backwards on my way down and crashed into the water. Jamie covered her face from the splash.

“Sorry, still getting used to this body,” I said as I resurfaced near her.

“Coyle, you were down there for a few minutes. I was about to break out my lifeguarding skills and come down there.”

“I could go longer. Do you want me to try?”

“No, Coyle. I want you to stay right here with me.” She rested her arms around my neck and laid one more wet kiss on me.

“I better get going. Dad will get worried; I promised I would be home for dinner.”

“Please stay a little longer.” She nuzzled into me.

“I wish I could, but I don’t want to further sour things with him.”

“Okay, I understand,” she conceded.

“I have that stupid press conference tomorrow. Are you going to watch it?”

“Of course! My boyfriend getting all famous on the TV, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Should be a sight.” I said sarcastically.

I carried her over to the side of the pool and lifted her out. I hopped out and quickly dried off.

“What are we going to do on August 10th?” she asked as she dried herself off. My male brain didn’t catch on at first. Then it came to me, she was booked for only two more weeks of camp servitude.

“To celebrate you coming home? I don’t know; I will have to surprise you.”

“I like the sound of that!” she said with an irresistible smile. But the smile only lasted a moment. A wave of concern crossed her normally cheery face. “Coyle, please be careful. I’ve had a bad feeling about this all ever since you were discharged. Something is off. I’m not sure what it is.”

“I’ll be alright,” I said while flexing my huge biceps.

“It’s not those I’m worried about.” She gently pulled my arms down, and then placed her hand over my heart. “Don’t let them control you, change you, or hurt you.”

They already had changed me. I could feel it inside, deep inside, a lurid beast lurked within. I couldn’t let it show again, especially around Jamie.

“I can’t wait till you are home. Things will be better then, I promise. I love you.” I gave her a gentle hug.

We said our goodbyes and I sped home.

The next day my dad drove us to the downtown building and parked in the visitor parking. As we walked towards the stairs, which lead to the main entrance, I noticed a large garage door leading to another section of parking. A metal door with a reinforced window stood at its side. I peered in as we walked and noticed two cars, one BMW M3 convertible and a Mercedes Benz SLS AMG Roadster. Someone likes his sports cars. I could only assume they belonged to Dr. Tessel. Along the far wall of his parking section, I saw a door, which appeared to lead to the main building. Another smaller garage door stood at the far wall.

Somatotech’s PR team met us before we could reach the main entrance to Somatotech.

“Hello Mr. Murray, Coyle,” a younger woman dressed in a suit said as she approached us. “Thank you for being on time.” She glanced at our clothes. “We will need to change your clothes. Then you will proceed to makeup.”

They shuffled us through a back door and into a dressing room. There were clothes hanging in the corner. After they left to allow us to dress, I looked at the clothes. They were actually quite stylish, a gray three-piece suit for my dad and tan slacks, a dress shirt and sweater for me. The clothes fit perfectly and accentuated my new physique. Next, we proceeded to the makeup room. Not only was this the first time I had makeup on, I hoped it would be the very last.

“Coyle, are you ready? This is a very, very exciting day.” Dr. Tessel had entered the room behind us. “I trust you have reviewed the talking points we sent you.”

“We went over them every night, Dr. Tessel,” my dad replied confidently.

And we actually had. My dad brought them out at dinner and read them repeatedly. I had tried not to participate, however, ever since the therapy my ability to memorize had increased substantially. I only had to hear or see something one time and it would stick with me. So hearing my father repeat the lines Somatotech gave us had firmly ingrained them in my mind.

“Somatotech has not only returned my son to health, but has made him healthier and happier. It truly is a miracle.” This was my dad’s line.

Mine was lengthier, “I feel great. Before, while I was receiving chemotherapy, I felt tired and sick nearly all of the time. Now, after Somatotech’s therapy I am stronger, faster, and healthier than ever before. And it is all because of the excellent staff of scientists, doctors and nurses here. If it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t be planning on college in the fall.” They had other suggested lines, which sounded just as ridiculous.

The PR group made us aware that there would be another patient present; a girl who had just finished the therapy last week. The time would be shared between the two of us. My dad frowned.

They shuffled us into a small pre-press room with two sofas, a coffee table, refrigerator, and TV.

“We will come get you when it is time to go live. Make yourselves at home. There are drinks in the refrigerator.” They turned and left. My dad and I sat opposite each other on the couches.

“Did you ever imagine we would be involved in a press conference?” He did not give me a chance to respond. “Coyle, soon you will be famous. Your name will be inexorably tied to the cure of cancer. Doesn’t that excite you?”

“The thought of being famous is so foreign to me Dad, I’m not sure I really want it.”

Right then, the door opened and a young woman and her father entered the room. Without hesitation, she approached me.

“Hi, I’m Naveah. This is my dad.” She outstretched her hand towards me. “You must be Coyle?”

Her hand felt soft in mine, although her grip was firm. She caught my gaze and smiled.

“I have heard so much about you!”

“And I haven’t heard anything about you until just now,” I snidely replied.

She ignored my rudeness. “Dr. Tessel said that your recovery has been miraculous. No one has responded as well as you.”

“Thanks, sure has been nice. What about you?”

“I have, I mean I had hepatoblastoma, a liver cancer, but I’m cured now.” She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me close. I could feel her breath on my neck as she approached my ear. She whispered, “I’m at 75%! I’m so excited it is almost compete. Have you noticed anything different about yourself?” She moved even closer, invading my personal space.

Naveah was probably around my age and had long blonde hair and a thin frame. She wore a tight camisole, blue skirt, and a tan lace cardigan. She was definitely attractive, but excessively forward, which made things real awkward.

“I…I’m stronger.” I managed to get out as I stepped back.

“You look strong!” She grasped my left biceps and then slowly glided her hand down my chest.

I stood there in disbelief. Who was this girl? I glanced towards my dad but her dad obscured my view. I shuffled to the right and saw that he was reading the talking points.

“Hey Dad, can I go over those with you?” I hopped over the table and sat down next to him.

Naveah followed and squeezed down next to me on the couch.

“Why do you need those talking points Coyle? We have plenty to talk about without them.” She deliberately tapped my thigh with her hand and then left it there. My dad noticed this and raised his eyebrows. I deliberately picked up her hand, lifted it off my thigh, and dropped it in her lap, hoping she would take a hint.

“Time to go. Ready?” The press lady had returned sporting a headset.

“Oh this is so exciting!” Naveah grabbed my arm and gave me a tight squeeze, pressing her chest on my arm. I shook her off and stood up.

“I’m ready,” I said.

Somatotech situated Naveah and I in the middle between our dads. A rostrum with a large Somatotech logo stood to our right. In front of us, the room was bustling with activity. Reporters checked their recorders, cameramen adjusted their focus, and Somatotech representatives ran around handing out the press material.

The Snake finally entered the room in his firmly pressed white coat. His steps up onto the press platform were confident and instinctively the room went quiet as he approached the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming. Today Somatotech has an announcement that will forever change the face of cancer treatment. It is with great pleasure I introduce Coyle Murray, a cancer survivor, let me rephrase, Coyle the cancer conqueror. Through Somatotech’s revolutionary treatment, Coyle is now completely cancer free. But our therapy didn’t stop there. Not only is Coyle cancer free but he will never have any type of cancer ever again. Preliminary tests also indicate he may never be sick from any ailment ever again.”

A collective gasp rushed over the crowd.

He continued. “If you will open your press information to page four you will see the amazing progress Coyle has experienced. Please pay particular attention to the pictorial timeline.”

A pamphlet slid down the table to me. The entire inner spread documented my physical progress with a series of pictures. From boney cancer patient to brawny man, the pictures were quite impressive.

“We have sent each of you electronic versions of this pamphlet, our press release, and the promotional video. I am available for interview. Please contact my secretary. At this time I would like to open the floor for questions.”

"Coyle, how do you feel?" asked a reporter from Channel 9.

The Snake shot a look at me. His eyes were black as coal. A slight smirk slid across his mouth and he gave a small nod.

I turned and faced the crowd. “My body has never felt better," I responded truthfully.

"How does it feel to be the face of the cure for cancer?" she followed up.

“I don’t know, great, I guess. I never thought I would be here.”

“Tell us about the treatment? What was it like?”

Naveah interjected. “It was great; we didn’t really feel anything bad like other therapies…just felt like getting better, more energy, more light at the end of the tunnel.” A confused look came over the reporter and she gave the ‘who is this?’ look to her fellow reporters.

“My apologies, this fine young woman is another one of our cancer conquerors. Naveah Tanner. Naveah battled a deadly cancer for many years before coming to us. After the initial success we had with Coyle, we modified our treatment plan accordingly and applied it to Naveah. We are happy to announce that she is cancer free also.”

“I’m so grateful to all of the people here at Somatotech and also Coyle.” She locked her arm around mine before I could retract it. “Without him, I probably wouldn’t be here today.” She stared at me, batting her eyes, begging me to look at her, to make this a perfect press moment. I ignored her. Instead, I looked intently at the reporters, urging them to ask another question.

"What are your plans for the future?" a reporter asked me, breaking the awkwardness.

“I hope to go to college and I may join the military.” That caused a stir. My dad shot me a look. Concern crossed his face as he scrunched his eyebrow together. So the recruiter had lied, my dad hadn’t talked to him.

“Which branch of the military?”

“I’m not sure, probably the Army.”

“Do you feel you could be the perfect soldier?”

“My son is not a soldier,” my dad blurted out. Everyone went deathly quiet. My dad’s cheeks went flush.

“How about we focus questions on the therapy from now on?” said Dr. Tessel.

“Your mom used to work for Somatotech, is that correct?" a reporter from the rear of the room yelled out. All of the attendees turned to see the interrupter. A graying man in an old tweed suit stood.

“Please, let’s focus on the point of the press conference,” Dr. Tessel said a little more forcibly.

“Isn’t it true? According to the records we obtained, she worked for the company for six months,” the reporter continued to probe.

“Coyle, you don’t have to answer that,” one of the press staff whispered into my ear.

“No, it’s okay. My Mom did some contract work for Somatotech, yes.”

“Do you think you received preferential treatment because of your Mom's contract work with Somatotech?"

“I don’t…”

“That had nothing to do with his treatment. Naveah received the exact same treatment!” The Snake slammed his fist onto the rostrum. Spittle again flew from his mouth.

"How were you able to afford this treatment for your son?" The reporter didn’t stop.

“We financed part of…” my dad began.

“Stop! No more of this! Gary, this is not the purpose of this press conference, you little twit. I ought to throw you out of here.”

A Somatotech press staff member jumped onto the podium and nervously grabbed the microphone.

“No further questions for our clients or Dr. Tessel. You have our press release. Thank you for coming.”

Despite objections from many of the reporters present, a staff member turned off all the microphones and we were ushered back to the prep room.

“Well, that went great,” I said sarcastically.

Naveah glared at me. Dr. Tessel stormed down the hallway yelling at a few staffers in tow.

We changed out of our clothes and were promptly led out of the building.

“Dad, who was that reporter?” I whispered as we entered the parking garage.

“Gary Middleton from News 4. He is some kind of investigative reporter,” he paused, “The army Coyle, really?”

“An army recruiter called a few days ago. I haven’t met with him. I just thought the reporters would love it.”

“You know what your mom would think.”

“I know, I meant to talk to you about it. Sorry. But, the recruiter guy said you were all for it anyway.”

“I’ve never spoken with a recruiter. Nor would I ever give my consent for you to get yourself killed in Afghanistan or wherever.”

That’s refreshing. This was the precise response I expected; my Dad would do anything to keep me around. I wonder why the recruiter lied to me?

“Dad, how did we pay for my therapy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“C’mon Dad. I know we don’t have money for it. So how is it happening?”

“It is covered. I don’t want to talk about it.” And he meant it. Not another word left his mouth for the entire ride home.

10 Discovery

Every appointment at Somatotech was similar. We would arrive and be ushered to the treatment clinic. Nurse Kelly would take my vitals and draw two large vials of blood. Dr. Baldwin would then come in and give me a physical exam. I waited until the third visit to start asking questions.

“Dr. Baldwin, why don’t you use the Diavest on me again?”

“What are you referring to Coyle?

“Don’t play stupid with me doctor. My first visit you tortured me with that vest and afterwards it showed a score, something called a Bio-imprint number.”

I saw a flash of surprise cross her face but she almost instantly regained her composure.

“I have never heard of anything like that and I can assure you we did not torture you with anything. Memory alteration can be a side effect of the anesthesia and the therapy we have given you. I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“That is a bunch of bull Doc! I know it happened!” I looked to my dad. “Dad, you were there, you saw what the test did to me, I screamed out to you when they gassed me. Tell her!”

“Coyle, nothing of the sort happened. You need to calm down now. Are you feeling okay?”

In fact, a headache had started to creep up on me.

“The first visit was pretty uneventful; you were simply admitted and given anesthesia so they could start the therapy,” he said without any hint of deceit.

What the heck? They must have drugged my dad as well. Anger started to build up deep in my core. I stood up directly in front of Dr. Baldwin.

“Tell me what the Bio-imprint number is! NOW!” I was breathing heavily and my veins popped out like hot sausages.

Dr. Baldwin jumped up towards the door, but I was much quicker and blocked the way. She reached for something in her pocket so I grabbed her wrist. I pulled up her arm and saw that she had a syringe with an attached needle in her hand. She struggled to break loose of my grip but it was no use.

I stared directly into her fear stricken eyes and yelled at her conniving face. “Gonna drug me again? Make it so I forget? Maybe your drugs aren’t strong enough because I do remember what you did to me.”

I gruffly pushed her down on her chair and grasped the syringe from her. I removed the protective tip off the needle and held it towards her neck. A terrified look swept over her face as small tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

“Want some of your own medicine, Doc?”

“Coyle you need to stop, now,” my dad yelled and stood up quickly.

“No Dad, I know you don’t believe me but these people are dark, something dark is going on here!”

Just then, the door locked behind me. Then the all too familiar hiss began again. Dr. Baldwin jumped up and began banging on the door.

“Dr. Tessel, I demand to be let out of here! Now!” she yelled.

My dad joined her, both frantically banging and pushing on the door. After a few moments, they slowed; even with obvious effort, their knocks were weak. I remained alert; it had absolutely no effect on me. My dad lost his balance and started to fall back. Dr. Baldwin stood wavering between him and me.

“You are not getting out of here Coyle,” her speech slurred. She held out her hands as if she were planning to block me from the door.

I pushed her out of the way and I caught my dad just as he was about to hit the floor. Unfortunately, the anesthesia had already taken great effect on her as well. Behind me, as I lifted my dad, I heard a sickening crack then thud. I turned and saw Dr. Baldwin prostrate on the floor with a small pool of blood around her head.

“Oh crap, oh crap! Dr. Baldwin are you okay?”

No response.

I carefully lifted my Dad onto the examination table. Then I lunged toward Dr. Baldwin and turned her head slightly to see the source. The blood flowed from a large gash just above her right ear. Skin, hair and blood were on the corner of the desk obviously from the initial impact. I anxiously searched the room for something to press on her head to stop the voluminous hemorrhage. I found a hospital gown in one of the cabinets and pressed it against her head to stop the flow. I felt her skull collapse in slightly. More blood began to gush out of her head despite my efforts. My hands were covered in it. A wave of nausea rushed over me.

“Oh God, please help her,” I yelled as I held her head close to me.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps and multiple clicks outside the door. It quickly dawned on me that the clicks were probably the cocking of weapons.

“Five, four, three,” One of the men whispered.

The door flung open and men with gas masks burst into the room firing darts at me. A few hit me in the back injecting their contents deep into my muscles. I jumped up and they shot me with a few more before I could reach the first group. I managed to take down two of them by barreling through into their chests with my shoulders. I could hear each of their ribs shatter into multiple segmental fractures. They tried to scream but their chests collapsed in as they tried to take a breath. The other two continued to fire hitting me in the neck and arm. I managed to hit one just below the right eye. His face crumpled in; his cheek bone collapsed in from the force of my fist. He was unconscious instantly. I became dizzy and weak before I could take out the last man who stood a few paces back. He fired two more darts into my chest. The room went dark and I collapsed onto one of my unconscious assailants.

“Quite a little stunt you pulled back there.” A familiar voice filled my waking ears. My eyelids were heavy, resisting my efforts. “We underestimated the power of the treatments it seems. You received an anesthetic dose, which veterinarians use on elephants, and it hardly affected you. Simply amazing. Coyle, you are literally superhuman. Too bad you are not cooperating; we could accomplish so very much.”

My eyes slowly opened to see Dr. Tessel standing over me. Reinforced thick metal restraints were around my arms, legs, head, and torso.

“I don’t want to accomplish anything with you.” Rage instantly began to fill my veins.

“Such an unfortunate shame, Coyle. Nevertheless, I believe you will come around and I would like to tell you why.” He paused for effect. “Coyle, there is one side effect we conveniently failed to mention when your father gave his consent for the treatment. Since we used pluripotent stem cells there is a possibility for heterotopic ossification, or bone growth where it shouldn’t be. This ‘side effect’ is quite simple to induce with an untraceable injection of a compound called bone morphogenetic protein or BMP. As of yet you have not incorporated all of the stem cells, and they are scattered throughout all tissues of your body. If I infused even just a few milliliters into your veins, your insides would turn to bone over a few weeks. Every movement would create excruciating pain as the bone incorporates into your muscles, nerves, and organs. Eventually, you would slowly suffocate and your heart would stop. You would experience a slow painful death which is entirely within the realm of side effects possible with this type of treatment, and completely untraceable.”

Goodness gracious this guy means business. “Why are you threatening me? Why can’t you let me live my life?”

“We need you to cooperate with us from now on. You know some of our secrets. It is in my best interest to hold all of the cards; I am not one to share. But, if you can cooperate we can offer you a future that is brighter than any other human who has ever lived.”

“I want my old life back.” At least control of my life back.

“A life with leukemia, with no future, no strength? How long do you think Jamie would have stayed with you as you deteriorated? You would have become a vegetable and then died a slow death. Cancer strips you of everything that is meaningful and you are only left with disease and death.”

“That choice, or that life, whatever was left of it, was taken from me.”

“Thankfully, the law considers you a minor and as such your father can consent for you. He was more than willing to sign the dotted line to save your life. You are an ungrateful punk.” His face scrunched together in disgust.

That reminded me of the anesthesia used on my dad. “Where is my dad? What have you done with him?”

“Your father woke up about an hour ago in his comfortable bed at home. Unlike you, the amnestic effect of our anesthesia works on him. He won’t remember anything from your unfortunate incident.”

“What about Dr. Baldwin?”

He just stared at me for a moment with a slight disconcerting smirk.

“Coyle that is precisely another reason you need to cooperate. Dr. Baldwin died due to massive hemorrhage. Surveillance video shows you pushing her down violently. And when we found you, your hands were drenched in her blood.” He paused. “I should turn you into the police. With the evidence in your medical chart, which describes your multiple rage-filled outbreaks, you would be convicted swiftly and spend the rest of your ungrateful days in prison. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You son of a…” I struggled against the restraints.

“Now Coyle, I know your mother taught you better.”

“You don’t know my mother!” I screamed.

“You are mistaken, I knew her quite intimately. She was a good woman, somewhat introverted and judgmental, but a good woman indeed. We were sad to see her go.” He said with a slight smirk.

“Arggghhhh!” I yelled as I strained against the restraints. My veins popped out like plump slugs and my muscles swelled.

“You really should work on your temper,” he said calmly as he pulled out a syringe and hooked it up to an IV in my left arm. He quickly infused the substance directly into my veins. “Over the next few days we have some more tests to run and then you will start your training. We weren’t planning on entering you into training so early, but I think you’ll be able to handle it. Once our trust in you is confirmed, you will be free to go home to your father Fallon and girlfriend Jamie.”

He slowly walked out of the room, apparently quite content with himself. The room went dark.

Over the next few days, I was in and out of consciousness, frequently seeing people in scrubs carrying tablets, syringes and the Diavest. It all became a blur.

11 Capacitation

Eventually, I woke sitting on a metal chair and dressed in white athletic clothing including sneakers, shorts and a tight T-shirt. An IV was taped to my forearm. I looked up and saw that I was in a vast room, which had a floor that tilted up to a large garage type door at the top. The back of the room had to be a couple hundred feet away from where I was sitting. Thick steel plating covered the walls and floor.

“Please stand, Coyle.” A female voice came over the intercom. I frantically looked around to see the origin.

“Where am I? Get me out of here!” I screamed back at the voice.

“Coyle, this is your first training activity. Stand now, please.”

I stood and immediately the chair retracted into a compartment in the wall.

“Please walk forward.”

I took a few steps towards the sloped floor and a net of thick wire shot up behind me and rose to the ceiling twenty or thirty feet above. A large hatch in the floor, extending from wall to wall, opened behind me and in front of the net.

“What is going on here?”

“10, 9, 8. Prepare yourself Coyle...5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Begin”

A large screen lit up at the side of the room. It displayed:

Subject 1: Attempt #1

Subject 2: 20:45

The garage door at the end of the room slowly opened with a sustained creak. I heard a rumble beginning to form, getting louder and louder until it hurt my ears. I covered them to reduce the pain. My heart started to race and I instinctively crouched down ready to pounce.

Large granite boulders came rolling at me and careening into the net and then disappearing into the deep hatch. They were easily the size of small cars. The first few were easy to avoid by simply stepping aside. However, they came faster and faster. Soon I had to jump over some and dive to avoid others. My mind could perfectly calculate their trajectory and velocity. My muscles responded in concert. The clock adjacent to ‘Subject 1’ continued to tick. Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes.

I continued my precise movements as they began to hurl the boulders in the air towards me. I had trouble keeping up and panic began to spread in my mind. I jumped on top of one just as another hit. It shot me up into the air inverting me. My arms and legs flailed out. Many were coming straight for me and I could do nothing to control my landing.

"Help!" I screamed just as the boulders nearly crushed me.

Another net rose up in front of me, catching almost all of them. But, it was too late to catch one that was bouncing high in the air towards me. As I hit the ground, I tried to roll out of the way but it managed to land on my ankle, crushing it. Pain instantly surged up my leg. My foot was a macerated mess of shoe, blood, bone and tissue.

"Arrrgghhhh!" I yelled out. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?" No one responded.

The nets came down and the hatch closed. Three men came running in from the door in the corner and immediately started administering to my mangled extremity. One of the men took out a syringe and infused some clear liquid into my IV. I laid back and they loaded me on a stretcher. As they were carrying me out, I glanced at the scoreboard.

Subject AM1: 15:04 - FAIL

Subject AM2: 20:45

The medication kicked in and I was out.

“Wake up, Coyle.” A female voice addressed me.

I opened my eyes slowly.

“Good morning, Coyle. How do you feel?”

“Tired, but otherwise fine.” And I really did. The pain had vanished. I glanced down at my foot and to my amazement, it appeared completely healed. No evidence of injury, although my vision was still a little blurred. Not sure if it was the medication they had me on or the rest I’d had, but I felt a tremendous calm.

My eyes finally focused on the woman in my room and I instantly recognized her from my dreams. A sickening feeling of déjà vu came over me.

“My name is Mrs. Tolbert and I’m your primary trainer. I’m sorry for not introducing myself before the first session. We wanted to assess your abilities without any capacitation.”

I sat up in the bed. “Those boulders could have killed me. What the hell is going on here?”

“We wouldn’t let that happen, Coyle.” She smirked “As Dr. Tessel explained; you are here for training. Although, as you have already experienced, this is not conventional training.”

“Unconventional training that I didn’t agree to.”

“I would advise you to change that tone, Coyle. This training will change your life in ways you can only imagine. You should feel extremely lucky to have staff who are dedicating their time and effort to your progression.” She looked me over, from head to toe, as if passing judgment with a simple glance. “Your ankle appears intact. How does it feel?”

“It feels like nothing, like a massive freakin’ boulder flattening it, ever happened. How did it heal so fast?”

“You underestimate the miracle we have accomplished with you. I’m not a scientist, and do not pretend to be, but I do know that almost all tissues of your body now have the ability to accelerate the healing process.”

I gently prodded each bone, tendon, and muscles of my foot in disbelief. What have I become? A chill came over me as I had a sneaking thought enter my head. I was no longer human. I wasn’t even sure if I was mortal. Would I really have died if one of the boulders crushed my head? The thought frightened me.

Mrs. Tolbert broke my train of thought. “We have another training session this afternoon. I will send some food in; you will need your energy.”

“Where am I?”

“We are at the Somatotech training facility in Castle Rock. Feel free to explore.” With that, she promptly turned around and slipped through the sliding doors of my room. Curt and to the point, she was uncannily similar to the Mrs. Tolbert from my dreams.

Before getting up to explore I took the moment to ponder what had just happened. It was so fantastical I hardly believed it. Trapped in a room with massive boulders hurling at me? Who does that? They had to know I wouldn’t die, or they wouldn’t have risked it, I’m their greatest asset. The same chill crept up my spine once again. Mortality. We are human by our mortality. On the other hand, at least we are alive because of our ability to die. Had I lost my mortality? I was tempted to test it but I pushed the thought away almost immediately realizing how irrational it sounded. All of this felt like a vivid nightmare, a headache began to work over my temples. I lay back on the bed and gazed around the room.

The room was all white with a large desk in the corner. A flat panel TV hung from the corner and a remote sat on a small table near my bed. I turned it on hoping for a traditional array of cable channels. Nothing, not a single channel. I opened a closet along the far wall, which contained more white clothes. How incredibly boring. The whole environment felt sterile, lifeless. I pressed the ‘Open Door’ button on the wall and walked out through the sliding doors. The same small tower with the fluorescent light on top stood outside the room, the same as outside the recovery room at Somatotech headquarters. It was lit bright green. Multiple rooms stretched out around a central courtyard. Looking in the other rooms, I saw no one. I walked to the far side of the courtyard to large silver doors. They opened as I approached. Inside a familiar room stretched before me. With a large LCD screen and a desk, it was the video room from my dreams. I sat down on the chair and the screen instantly lit up. A female voice spoke to me.

“Welcome to the Video Room Coyle. This system works by voice commands. Please feel free to speak at any time.” The screen displayed a small picture of me in the corner with 000201A next to it.

“What would you like to view?”

A menu popped up on the screen.

TV – Movies – Somatotech Body Training – Contact Staff – Schedule

“Somatotech Body Training,” I spoke instinctively.

“Somatotech began in 1988 with one aim, to eradicate cancer from the human race. We have accomplished this amazing feat with the support and effort of many extremely talented physicians and scientists. You, and many others, are the fruits of our labor. To ensure you thrive in your new body we have put together training activities. Thank you for being willing to participate. You should have already been through stage 1, our pre-capacitation test. Stage 2 is comprised of visuospatial and pattern recognition training. Stage 3 comprises of intelligence and intuition training. Finally, stage 4 comprises of personal protection and military tactics training. Mrs. Tolbert and her assistants will guide you throughout the process. If you have any questions feel free to ask.”

“When can I leave?”

“Coyle, your training will last at least one week depending on your progress.”

“What if I want to leave earlier?”

“You are contractually obligated to fulfill this training. It was a condition of your receipt of treatment.”

“Treatment I didn’t agree to.” I stood up to leave.

“Enjoy your stay Coyle.”

“Screw you.” I slammed the chair into the desk and I walked off.

A man in a white one-piece jumpsuit carried a tray of food and dropped it off on a table in the center of the courtyard. I ran over to confront him.

“Hey, who are you?” I stepped in front of him. He didn’t look surprised.

“Hi Coyle, I’m Mr. Collins, one of Mrs. Tolbert’s assistants. Here is your dinner tray. Let me know if you need anything else.” He turned to leave but I shuffled to stay in front of him.

“Hey, I would like to call my dad and my girlfriend. Is there a phone I can use?”

“There is, but it can only be used to contact family during approved hours.”

“And when is that?”

“From 7:30 to 8:00 p.m.”

“Only 30 minutes?” I said in disbelief.

“Yes, unfortunately there are no exceptions.” The look on my face gave away my growing frustration. “Coyle, this first day can be rough, but it will get better. Try and enjoy your time here.” He considered me sincerely.

Mr. Collins was a tall thin man with wire-rimmed glasses. He looked somewhat cachectic, like many of the patients I saw on the oncology ward. He had hollow cheeks, lacking in fat, and his eyes seemed sunken in his skull. I thought about asking if he had cancer but decided against it.

“Mr. Collins, why are there no other patients here?”

“Because of your abilities, Dr. Tessel and Mrs. Tolbert want to dedicate all of Somatotech’s resources to your training. Frankly, I’m honored just to be a part of it.”

“I’m flattered,” I exclaimed sarcastically.

“There is no need to be snide, Coyle.” He stared at me disapprovingly.

“Sorry.” And I meant it. Mr. Collins seemed sincere, almost someone I could trust, although, trust and Somatotech most definitely did not go together.

“Coyle, I’m here to help you. Each stage will be difficult, and in some instances almost impossible. My instructions will prove vital, and thus, you will need to trust me.”

I sensed his sincerity and responded truthfully, “I will.”

“Other patients may arrive later this week, after we have ensured your progress.”

“How many are there?”

“Not many. I believe you have met one of them, a girl named Naveah.”

Oh great, her again, Miss Way Too Freakin’ Forward.

He checked his watch. “I must go Coyle. You can contact us through the video console at any time. You can find your schedule there as well. The next training activity starts in about an hour. I will come for you.”

After he left, I snarfed down the food. I was almost insatiably hungry. I must have been out for a while, either that, or the healing process required more energy. Either way I could have eaten three or four plates of food.

Walking around the courtyard and hallways, I noticed a single reinforced metal door, which I presumed led out of the residence. All of the perimeter walls were slick white plastic coated metal, which stood at least fifteen feet high. Keeping what is in, in, and what is out, out. I wondered if I could touch the top of the wall. I jumped with as much force as I could muster but came up a foot or two short. I searched for a ledge to climb up on but there was none. Large corner pillars held up the ceiling around the perimeter of the courtyard. While inspecting them, I noticed the cameras. There were probably twenty or thirty of them. Small glass balls dotted the walls, spaced about ten feet apart. I was not surprised they were watching me, nevertheless, I was alarmed by how many there were. I couldn’t imagine they were all solely for my surveillance.

“Time to go, Coyle.” Mr. Collins stood behind me.

He led me out of the square through a long hallway with doors labeled, Stage 4, Stage 3, and eventually Stage 2. Outside each room stood the familiar lighted small tower. As we approached the Stage 2 doors, the light turned green and the doors opened revealing a dark room.

“Go ahead Coyle.” He placed his hand on my back. “No danger here.”

I stepped into the dark room. As I did, the lights instantly turned on illuminating an opaque glass desk similar to the one from my dream. A chair slid back, attached to the floor. I sat down and the tabletop console turned on.

“Welcome to Stage 2, Coyle. The purpose of this stage is to train your visuospatial abilities. As a result of your therapy, the transit of messages from your central nervous system to your peripheral nervous system is more efficient. In other words, messages from your brain to your muscles arrive much quicker than before. These pathways need reinforcement, which is why we developed this stage. The exercise is quite simple. Soon, a colored rectangle will appear at the top of this screen. This is your reference color. Multiple colored circles will appear and disappear. Your task is to tap the colored circles that correspond to the reference before they disappear. This stage will last three hours. Any questions?”

“Three hours? Are you friggin’ kidding me?”

“It would require days, if not weeks of practice to reinforce these pathways in a normal person. Be grateful you have the ability to accomplish it in a much shorter period of time.”

There they go again with the ‘be grateful’ crap.

“Any other questions?”

I didn’t respond.

“Excellent, we will begin in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”

Remembering my dream, I readied my hands just above the table.

BEEP. “Begin, Coyle.”

A green rectangle appeared, and subsequently multiple colored circles. I tapped the green ones easily before they disappeared. Just as in my dream, they began to appear and vanish faster and faster. My hands adjusted appropriately, matching the speed of the circles. Eventually, the colors became less distinct. Different hues to green flashed on the screen tempting my hands. Inadvertently, I tapped an incorrect circle and the exercise would start over.

After an hour, I could last twenty to thirty minutes without making an error. After two hours my mind not only sent the messages more efficiently, I began to understand the algorithm the computer used. I anticipated the next color and location. The color choices were not random; it would cycle from blue to orange to green to red to light green to light red to blue. Then another cycle would begin with a shift down the color spectrum. Violet to light green to blue to light red to green to orange to violet. The third cycle started from higher wavelengths of light and did the opposite shifts. Red to light green to light red to blue to orange to blue green to red. The cycles would then repeat. Each cycle lasted approximately two minutes and each reference color between ten and thirty seconds.

Location and timing of the circles was also only partially random. My mind caught on that the table was divided in a 20 x 20 grid, with each square fitting a 2-inch diameter circle. The grid was further divided into smaller grids of 5 x 5 squares. I surmised that each smaller section had a number dedicated to it. The algorithm would choose one of the smaller sections at random, say number four, then add the half of that number to arrive in this case at six. The circle would then appear in one of the squares of the smaller section at random. After that circle appeared, the number was divided by two, so the correct circle would appear in section three. The cycle would then repeat with a random number again. For odd numbers the result was always rounded up. For example, twelve, eighteen, six. Or nine, fifteen, eight. Despite the fact of the limited element of randomness, and the increased speed at which they appeared and disappeared it became easy to follow and keep my hands in appropriate position.

For the last hour, I made no mistake, tapping each circle with fluidity. A wave of euphoria came over me as I realized my capabilities. Never before had I been able to figure out complex puzzles; my mind didn’t seem to work that way. But now, my mind seemed to extract tremendous joy from deriving the solution.

The screen flashed bright yellow then faded to dark. The lights turned on in the room and I heard the door slide open behind me.

“Well done Coyle. You may come out of the room now.”

I stood and exited the room. Mr. Collins stood in the hallway with an approving look.

“Why not make it completely random? That would truly test my visuospatial ability.” I asked as we walked back towards the courtyard.

“As you will soon appreciate, these tests serve multiple purposes. Almost anyone, with repetition, could last for a few minutes and maybe even a half an hour. Only those whom take the challenge a step further by understanding the algorithm can master the task. It takes superior intelligence. You demonstrated it quicker than all others we have tested,” Mr. Collins explained matter-of-factly.

12 Words and Emotions

When I arrived at my room, I found the desk teaming with books.

“What are all these?”

“As I hope you’ve already found out, your mind has an immense capability to capture and assimilate information. Not only do you have a photographic memory, you can instantly comprehend the information. These are some of the most influential and important works ever written. Prepare to be enlightened.”

I ran my hands over some of the hardcover books, reading the titles.

‘The Wealth of Nations’, ‘Crime and Punishment’, ‘The Art of War’, ‘The Prince’, ‘The C++ Standard Library: A Tutorial and Reference’, ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People’, ‘Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine’, ‘Principles of Anatomy and Physiology’, there were others on physics, mathematics, political science, military strategy, and creative writing.

“Welcome to stage 3. You have six hours to complete this task. There will be a comprehensive exam. Enjoy.”

“Six hours? It is already 7 p.m.; you mean I have to do this till 1am?”

“Your body does not require the same amount of sleep as the average person. Do you know the purpose of sleep Coyle?”

“Beats me! Probably to recharge our batteries?”

“Sleep benefits the mind. It solidifies knowledge gained throughout the day. In the average person, the mind utilizes energy saved from resting their muscles and other organs for that purpose. Your mind is more efficient and does not require the same energy or time to accomplish the same task.”

“So, how much sleep do I need?”

“A single sleep cycle, typically around ninety minutes. We better get started.”

“I thought Stage 3 was down that hall?” I pointed to where we had come from.

“That room is only for storage of these books. You had better hurry Coyle. There are over fifteen thousand pages to read. You should carry a pace of around forty pages per minute.” He motioned to the three large stacks and then he placed a small clock on the nightstand. It read 5:58 and actively ticked away.

“Good luck.” He coughed and left the room.

I threw open the first book, ‘The Art of War’ to Chapter 1. At first, my eyes concentrated on a few words at a time as I read.

“Heaven signifies night and day, cold and heat, times and seasons. Earth comprises distances, great and small; danger and security; open ground and narrow passes; the chances of life and death.” Hmm…so enlightening, I thought sarcastically. If Mr. Collins was right, I should be able to move rapidly through each page without hesitation. Either the dullness or the unfamiliarity of the subject seemed to trudge me down.

Soon, I realized I could focus on entire sentences at a time and completely ignore the subject matter; my mind would subconsciously do the rest. This then expanded to complete paragraphs. The words maintained in perfect orientation in my mind. I would then almost instantaneously comprehend the material. As I moved quicker and quicker through the book, it became increasingly interesting. My mind would create images, diagrams, charts, models and other media including music off the material and organize it based on various categories. In the case of ‘The Art of War’, I visualized expansive battles with great tactical and logistical challenges, stealth missions to lay siege on entire cities, and the optimal commander in chief. The only active mental faculties required were to focus on the words; my mind almost literally took off from there.

I grabbed a bunch of the books and jumped onto the bed where I could be more comfortable. The books on programming were boring at first as well. It was only until my mind could create, compile and execute entire programs, simulating their function did that similar wave of euphoria wash over me. Heck yeah! It was fun, a different type, more nerdy, but still heck-a-fun.

I devoured books; flying at a pace of sixty to seventy pages a minute. I kept a vigilant eye on the clock, not wanting to fail.

Often my imagination would expound on the material, developing alternate endings, solutions, and twists. I had to rein it in, so as not to waste time.

Finally, the last minute ticked away. I had finished all of the books five minutes prior and had spent the remaining time carefully reviewing each text in my mind.

Mr. Collins entered with a laptop in hand.

“You have twenty minutes to complete this examination. There are five challenges. You will be judged not only on the content and functionality but also on grammar and style. You must proceed in the order they are presented to you. I will remain here if you have any questions. Good luck.”

Somatotech had smartly included a five hundred-page book on English grammar and composition in the pile, thank goodness. I needed it desperately. I nearly failed junior English, never really having the patience to put my thoughts into words or follow the rigid rules of proper English.

Compare and contrast the following: humanism, behaviorism and Gestalt psychology.

Program an executable that correctly tracks the sun’s path across the sky in Lima, Peru.

Discuss the specific ‘Art of War’ tactics utilized by American revolutionists in defeating the British.

Describe in detail each step of the Krebs cycle.

Write a compelling original work of at least 10,000 words combining the following themes: poverty, love, power, hunger and anger.

Oh crap. Here we go. I rested my hands on the keyboard hoping that the simple act would ramp up my creative juices.

“Can I look at the books again?”

“Of course not Coyle, they should all be in your head by now. Extract them.”

“I’ll try. No promises though.”

The keys felt cool under my fingertips. I thought back to my typing class. I could hear Mrs. Goldwin yelling at us students.

“Don’t look at your hands! Let your mind flow through your fingers to the screen, not to the keyboard.”

Okay Mrs. Goldwin. Here goes nothing. I placed my fingers in the proper position and began typing. The first few sentences came out in awkward spurts. I couldn’t seem to stream them together correctly. My mind caught up on the syntax and grammar I had just learned from that forsaken book. It couldn’t let a single error pass. I rubbed my face with my sweaty hands. A few drops fell onto the keyboard so I wiped them with my shirt.

“Coyle, you are wasting time. Figure it out now or you will fail,” said Mr. Collins unnecessarily. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

Dang it. I erased it all and started with a blank slate. C’mon Coyle, let it flow. I closed my eyes reflexively and began writing. I focused on the message, on the ‘what’ rather than on the ‘how’. A switch went off in my mind, like my right brain took over. The words fell on the screen like music, perfectly timed and fluid. Paragraphs turned into pages and pages into entire chapters.

“Move on Coyle, or you will not have enough time for the others.” He tapped on the timer. 14:32 left. I wrapped up the first challenge and moved on. The program came together easily once I remembered the longitude and latitude of Lima from the almanac provided. The next two challenges flowed easily, requiring most rote memorization. The story remained with only four minutes.

“Can the story be based on anything I have read?”

“Absolutely not. Original means you have to be creative. Any semblance to established works and it will be disqualified. You can do this.”

What can I write about? What would be compelling? Then it came to me. My mom. I remember the day my mom died like it was yesterday. It was one of those memories that softens over time in my mind but keeps its pain in my heart. I was in my seventh grade algebra class.

“Coyle Murray?” said the principal as she walked to the front of the class.

“Ooooo!” The entire class responded in unison. Dumb middle-schoolers, always looking for ways to embarrass their classmates.

Dang, not again. I had been to her office many times lately for stupid stuff. Stuff that shouldn’t have been wrong. I brought my skateboard into class, so what? It wasn’t my fault Katie didn’t see it. She should have looked where she is going. I did feel bad when she hurt her elbow though.

I scrunched down into my seat. Principal Winters had whispered something to my teacher and he indicated towards me.

“Coyle, will you please come with me?”

I had no choice. I slumped out of my chair and walked with her down the hallway. Something was off, she wouldn’t make eye contact. She even put her hand on my back as we walked.

“What’s up Principal Winters?”

“We will talk in my office.”

As we entered the administration department, I noticed the secretaries giving me looks. Not the normal ‘what did you do this time’ looks more ‘there is something really wrong’ looks.

“Please sit down Coyle.”

“What did I do this time?” I rolled my eyes.

“Nothing, Coyle. You are not in trouble.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Coyle, your mom was in an accident.”

“What? Is she okay?” A heavy weight seemed to drop on my chest.

“No, no she is not okay. She is badly injured and...” She hesitated and then hastily added, “Your dad is on his way to come pick you up.”

“What happened?”

“All I know is that she had an accident on the highway and the EMTs couldn’t…” She stopped herself.

“Wait, is she dead?” I said, incredulously.

“Coyle, I…”

“C’mon! Tell me, is she dead?” I stood up.

“I’m sorry Coyle.”

“No, no, no!” My head reeled, the room spun. I felt like hurling. I couldn’t hold it in. Acidic fluid erupted from my stomach. I quickly grabbed her black trashcan and let it flow. Tears, snot, and vomit poured off my face and into that black hole. I stared down into it feeling darkness envelop me. My mom, my best friend, my role model, the only, and I mean only, person who understood me, dead. My breath seemed to escape me and I was forced to take quick short breaths.

“Coyle, calm down, you are hyperventilating.”

“I’m not hyperventilating. I just need my mom. I need to see my mom!”

“You can stay in here until your father comes or wait in the lobby. Which would you prefer?” she said, somewhat impatiently.

“Where would I like to sit? What kind of stupid question is that? My mom just died. What in the hell is wrong with you?” I blew up at her.

“Do not yell at me Coyle or I will have to call security.”

“Security? Screw you Principal Winters.” I shot up from my chair and headed for the door, knocking the trashcan over in the process and spilling its contents all over the floor.

“Coyle, come back here now!”

I slammed her office door into the wall as I ran out. The door knob busted out a large hole in the wall. The secretaries watched in shock as I bolted out of the administration area. Bursting out of the front doors of the school, I just ran and ran. Tears streamed behind me. I didn’t know where I was going; I just knew I had to run. The afternoon became a blur of tears, inquisitive looks from onlookers, and vomit, lots of vomit until all that would come up was thin green fluid. I didn’t remember how I had made it home. My dad was there, I could hear him sobbing in his room. I tried to open his door but it was locked.

“Dad?”

“Coyle, you have two minutes.” Mr. Collins’ voice ripped me back to the present.

So I wrote about it, as fast as I could, I wrote. This flowed easier than all the rest. Although, I somehow had to add ‘hunger’ to the story to qualify all of the requirements. I put in that I had a voracious appetite after vomiting up my guts in Principal Winter’s office.

As the last few seconds ticked away, I finished the work. I sat back, admiring it. The screen then went black. A small dialog box popped up.

“Pass – 95%. You have completed this Stage.”

The computer immediately shut down.

“Hey! Wait, I want what I wrote. It was personal.” I had never written it all down. I shot my eyes to Mr. Collins, looking for some concession.

“I’m sorry Coyle, all the work you do here is property of Somatotech. It will never leave here.”

“I want that back, now!” Pure heat began to surge through me.

“I’m sorry Coyle…,” he said, taking a step back.

“You are not sorry. Get it back now.” I pushed the computer over to him then jumped up in front of the door. My heart hit the inner surface of my chest with rhythmic force as the adrenaline spread throughout my body energizing my muscles.

“Coyle, you need to calm down.”

“Everyone is always saying that, ‘Calm down Coyle’, ‘Don’t get angry Coyle’. Well I have had enough!” I took a step towards him.

ZAP. When I was within a couple feet of him a bolt of white-hot electricity rained down from the ceiling, making contact with the back of my neck. Beyond my control, my extremities first shot out like I was about to bear hug somebody then viciously contract in, forcing me into the fetal position and collapsing my chest. The stream of electricity continued, holding me down like God’s finger. My chest wouldn’t expand, I couldn’t get air. I needed to breathe. The room darkened and I was out.

“Don’t jeopardize your training Coyle. You can’t afford to screw this up.” It was Mr. Collins voice. He was whispering. “You have to control the anger. Oh, here she comes.”

I opened my eyes. The blurriness slowly wore off. Mrs. Tolbert came in and stood at the foot of my bed with Mr. Collins. I sat up wearily.

“What happened?” I rubbed my throbbing head.

“You activated the submission protocol. When the computer recognizes potential violent activity it neutralizes the threat, in this case you,” explained Mrs. Tolbert. “If it happens again, the voltage will increase.”

Was I going to hurt him? I don’t know. The hate exuding from my pores probably would have pushed me over the edge. Could I be a murderer?

“Why are you doing this?” I sat up.

“To protect ourselves and to teach you control. Something you obviously lack. Because of this little incident, you are behind schedule. You will resume activities tomorrow morning.”

“Whatever,” I said as I collapsed back down into the bed. The clock read 7:45 pm. I had been out for at least ten hours. “Can I call my dad?”

“I suppose it is time, but only a single call and no longer than fifteen minutes. If you exceed that time, your privileges will be revoked. And no mention of this little incident or else.” She pointed to the ceiling.

“Just give me the phone,” I wasn’t in the mood. I hadn’t seen Jamie or my dad for too long, I had just been shocked by a lightning bolt from the ceiling, and I had a ripping headache.

She pulled out a phone from her pocket and pressed a button. She put the phone to her ear.

“It is ringing.” She handed it to me.

“Dad?” I tried to shoo Mrs. Tolbert and Mr. Collins away but they remained in my room.

“Coyle how is your training going?” His voice monotone again, eerily expressionless.

“Fine, Dad. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Son. Have you done all they ask?”

“Dad, is something wrong? You sound, um, distant.”

“Everything is working out so very well. I can’t wait till you come home and show me all you have learned. I must go to work. Goodbye Coyle.”

“Dad, wait! Wait, don’t hang up. Its 7:45 pm, you don’t have work.”

“I have to go. Bye.” Click, he was gone.

Abandoning me once again, quite typical of him now. I attempted to dial home again but the dial tone went dead silent. I slammed down the phone on to the nightstand next to the bed.

“Control it Coyle.” She once again pointed to the ceiling then picked up the phone.

I clenched my fists and bowed my head trying to calm the rage.

“Have a good night Coyle,” she said walking out of the room, Mr. Collins in tow.

13 Excessive Force

That night, as I was lying in bed, my mind took me to a dream, although I wasn’t yet asleep. My mind hovered somewhere in between consciousness.

I was walking in a hallway filled with prison cell doors. As I passed each door I glanced in. I saw no one. I reached the last cell, which seemed larger than the others. A man approached me from behind.

“This is where we will hold her if the situation escalates.”

“Will I retrieve her?”

“No, we have some contractors who are on call for such dealings.”

I stared into the cell, as if deep in thought.

“Will this get him here?”

“Love is a powerful motivator. You will see.”

“I can’t wait to kill that punk.” I clenched my fists tight.

“We hope it never comes to that. The mission is for both of you.” The man placed his hand on my shoulder. I shook it off.

“I don’t know why you keep on saying that. I am the one who is loyal to the mission, I am the one who is trained, I am stronger, faster, and smarter. I deserve the glory.” I beat my chest with one of my clenched fists.

I pulled myself out of the dream and sat up in bed. How could I have such a vivid dream without even being fully asleep?

The next morning Mr. Collins delivered a breakfast tray at 6:00 am.

“What is on the docket today Mr. Collins?”

“Haven’t you checked the console? Today you will be participating in physical capacitation.”

“More boulders?”

“No, no more boulders. Although, the skills needed to survive the boulders will be strengthened.”

I devoured the food and took a quick shower. When I came out, camouflage pants and shirt lay on my bed. Mr. Collins stood outside my room.

“What are these?”

“Standard issue camouflage. Your first activity in Stage 4 will be survival and evasion training. Should be interesting.”

After getting dressed, Mr. Collins led me to large field attached to the facility. The castle shaped rock of the town of Castle Rock loomed in the distance, probably four or five miles away. On a table in front of us were a ballistic helmet, vest, leg armor, gloves, camouflage net, strips of fabric, a small military knife, and duct tape. Twenty foot tall barbed wire fencing extended along the perimeter of the field. A few large tractor tires were scattered throughout the tall grass. Behind the grass field, a grove of trees obscured my view of the other side. In the dead center of the open field stood an ominous watchtower, at least one hundred feet tall, with a large gun attached to a turret.

“Um, Mr. Collins, what’s that?” I said pointing to the imposing gun.

“That is what you want to avoid in this section.” He pointed to the grass field. “If that detects you, it is goodnight again. I suggest you put on the armor.”

I threw it on, already feeling the brooding threat.

“Your objective is to reach the far side of the training grounds and press the red button. By any means. It is that simple. You have five minutes to prepare and ten minutes to reach the button. Do not stop during the exercise, you must keep moving.”

“What about in that forest? What do I need to avoid in there?”

“I’m sorry Coyle, I cannot tell you. Good luck.”

“Why do I never get any training before I’m thrown into this crap? Why is it always, ‘good luck Coyle, don’t die?’”

“Good luck Coyle, don’t die,” he responded with a slight chuckle. “You can do this, focus.” He turned to leave.

“Come on Mr. Collins.” I splayed out my hands in defeat.

He turned to leave before I could continue. The large metal door that led to the facility swung closed. A large clank of the lock let me know there was no exit. I turned and faced the grounds.

“Coyle, you have five minutes. Prepare yourself,” the familiar female voice boomed down from a loudspeaker.

Mr. Collins didn’t describe how the gun detected me, but I assumed motion was its primary means. Wind rusted through the grass causing it to sway back and forth. Nature. I need to mimic nature. I looked at my armor, bulky and square. Most natural objects are either smooth, linear, or round. Objects in this field were linear. I looked at the supplies. What can I use? The netting would smooth out my bulky helmet and shoulders but would do little to blend into the grass. The strips of fabric could work. I quickly tied each one to the side of the netting and threw the entire thing over me.

“Coyle, your preparatory time has expired. You have ten seconds. Get into position.”

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! The grass in the field stood at least three feet tall so I dove into it. My heart raced as I began to crawl slowly through the field. A servomotor started and I knew the turret actively scanned the field. One of the tires lay about thirty feet away so I cautiously crawled to it. The tower also had a large digital clock, counting down the time. By the time I reached the first tire more than two minutes had passed. I needed to hurry, there was no way I could crawl five hundred yards in ten minutes and make it through the trees.

As I inched closer to the edge of the tire, my knee hit a rock the size of a grapefruit. As I crawled over it an idea came to me. I could test the turret’s reaction speed. I grasped the rock and heaved it perpendicular to my intended path. BAM. The explosion rocked the tire back. I cowered down against it as pieces of the rock showered down on my helmet and armor. Freakin’ great, they’re explosive rounds.

On the ground by the tire was a pile of rocks of similar size. The next tire stood on its side about one hundred feet away. I crouched down in my track ready stance and readied one of the rocks in my left hand. I could only hold two in my right. Crap. I hoped I could move quickly enough between throws. I steadied my breathing, just as Mr. Collins said, ‘Focus Coyle’. I took another cautious glance at the clock. 6:30. It was go time.

I tossed the rock as hard and fast as I could and bolted out. The rock only made it maybe twenty yards before the gun obliterated it. The shock of the blast pushed me off balance for a moment but I regained it and took a few more strides. I could hear the turret rotating so I threw the next rock behind me. The second blast was much closer and pushed me flat on my face into the grass. Oh crap, now I was a sitting duck. I had at least forty feet to go. I lay still in the grass, hoping, praying, the deadly blow wouldn’t arrive. I held my breath. My heart slammed against my chest, lifting me ever so slightly with each beat. Nothing came.

A large gust of wind passed over the field causing the grass to flatten over me. The turret spun, apparently drawn to something moving in the far corner. I jumped up and sprinted with all my might. I had made three strides before the gun spun back towards me. I let the rock fly. It almost instantly exploded, sending fragments into my armor. A small fragment managed to hit me in the back of the neck between my armor and helmet. Searing pain caused my neck to contract back. I didn’t stop; the tire was only ten feet ahead of me.

Time slowed. I could hear the pin impact the primer and then powder exploding within the shell. The bullet shot out of the barrel, careening towards me. My body responded in turn. I dove forward, spinning in the air towards the tire. The bullet skimmed over my abdomen and exploded in the grass a few feet away. The explosion propelled me into the tire, tipping it over. Loud ringing echoed within my ears. I flopped down beside the tire onto my back. Warm blood flowed down my back under my armor. As the smoke cleared so did my vision.

“Why? Why this way? I’m freakin’ bleeding here!” I yelled out as I put pressure on my wound.

The turret instantly locked in on my position and let a round fly. The missile exploded on the far side of the tire. It rammed into me, sending me into the grass near the trees. My right arm bent behind my back as I tumbled over. I heard a pop and my arm dangled in front of my shoulder, completely incapacitated.

I stifled my scream with my other hand over my mouth and held still. Excruciating pain radiated down from my shoulder into my chest.

“Coyle, you have five minutes to complete this task,” the loudspeaker rang out.

I started crawling on my good arm towards the trees. Slowly I made it to the edge. The grass stopped short by about ten feet. A dirt path separated the two sections. No protection, no cover, nothing to shield me from imminent danger. I inched out onto the edge of the short grass. I tentatively placed one hand out.

“Coyle you have finished the first section. You may stand. You are safe until the next section. Four minutes remain. I suggest you reduce your dislocated shoulder. You will need that arm.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Then it hit me. In one of the books on emergency medicine from Stage 3 it had described how to put the humerus back into the shoulder joint. I lay on my back and slowly raised my dislocated arm with my left hand. The muscles spasmed, not allowing the humeral head back in.

“C’mon dang it,” I yelled out. The pain increased progressively as I raised it further. It wouldn’t budge. I switched tactics. Using my good arm again, I pulled down and out on my right arm. I felt lightheaded and queasy to my stomach. I didn’t want to pull too hard or I could further damage the ligaments and tendons. Clunk. The head dropped back into place like a pool ball into a pocket. The pain receded. I lay there for a moment allowing the adrenaline surge to subside.

“No stopping Coyle.”

“What are you going to do if I quit?”

The turret spun around, aiming directly at my chest.

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep going.” I held my hands up in concession and got to my feet.

I stood at the foot of the forest of Aspen trees. I couldn’t see anything threatening. It looked like any other forest with thin undergrowth. I was about to step in when a glimmer caught my eye. Something between two trees refracted the rays of the sun. I crouched down and looked closer. A thin translucent line strung from the trees. I followed it over to the tree that was closest. A small box camouflaged with foliage sat at the base of the tree. I could only assume it contained explosives because I sure wasn’t going to touch the thing. I walked up and down along the edge tilting my head to catch different angles of light. Hundreds of lines came into view, a veritable web of booby-trapped trees.

The only way I could see to avoid blowing this forest sky high was to get as close to the sky as I could. Most of the lines didn’t go higher than a few feet. The tree trunks surely weren’t stout. Most of them had thin trunks with weak limbs. In fact, some punk had cut off all the larger lowlying limbs. I bear hugged the fattest one and inched myself up. I squeezed hard with my thighs and feet on the slick bark. I made it up about fifteen feet to a branch I thought would support my weight. I reached out to the next tree and transferred with ease. Easy-peasy. I repeated the task until I reached the middle of the forest.

“Coyle, you have one minute remaining to complete this task”

I had to speed up; there was no way I could make it at that pace. As I transferred from another tree my boot caught on something. Rather than force it, I backed up cautiously. Directly below, were lines strung taut. Crap, they are forcing me up. I climbed and climbed, up until the trunks barely supported my weight. The lines came to just below my feet.

A large gust of wind came, catching hold of me and swaying the tree. Dang it! I heard the pins pull in a few of the boxes below. At first nothing, so I dove to the next tree. BAM, BAM, BAM. The trees exploded into thousands of splinters behind me. I dove to the next as the one I was just on fell. I needed to stay one tree ahead. I dove again and again feeling like an authentic Tarzan flying through the trees as they exploded behind me. At the fourth tree, I lost my grip and slid down the trunk. My boot landed on a line, pulling out the pin. I struggled to grip the next tree as the blast erupted at my side. It hurled me into the trunk and caused the tree to buckle and fall. Down I came with it. Dazed from the blast, I felt weightless, like I could fly out of there. The sensation only lasted a moment. The ever-closer cruel hard ground brought me back to reality.

I tried to brace myself, but I knew it was a futile effort, falling from at least fifty feet. I put my feet out as I collided with the ground. That was a mistake. My left hip shattered at impact, I could literally feel my femur ram up and through my hip. I tumbled over, out of the forest next to the fallen tree.

“Aghhhh! Help me! I need help!” I screamed as loud as I could over the pain.

“Coyle, you have thirty seconds to complete this task.”

“No, I can’t. My, my leg is broken. I need help, please,” I pleaded. Sharp pain seared into my hip like a hot branding iron.

“Look in front of you Coyle. You can do this,” Mr. Collins’ voice came over the loudspeaker.

I brought my gaze from my disfigured leg to out in front of me. A small platform with a large red button lay five feet away. Focus. I can do this. Using my good leg and arms, I dragged myself towards the platform.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six.”

My arms did most of the work, pulling me up the few steps, dragging my cripple leg. I collapsed onto the button.

“Congratulations Coyle, you have completed the task.”

I put my hand down to my hip. My pelvis felt boggy, like it was full of fluid. The pain overcame me. I closed my eyes and let shock push me to unconsciousness.

I didn’t want to wake up and when I did, anger consumed me. Mr. Collins and some nurses stood around me. Apparently, they knew I would be rip-roaring mad when I woke and had already placed me in restraints.

“You tried to kill me!” I yelled

“Coyle, calm down, you are safe now. We would never let that happen. I would never let that happen.”

“I want out of this place now!” I felt no pain, just the intense fire of anger.

Mr. Collins asked the nurses to leave.

“Coyle, the fastest way out of here is to complete the tasks. The sooner you do, the sooner you leave. I wish there was another way. I would help, but…” he stopped.

“What is it Mr. Collins?”

“Another time. You need to rest for a few more hours. The second half of this stage will begin soon.”

“C’mon Mr. Collins, I’m tired of this crap. I just want to go home.”

“I know you do,” he whispered, looking out to the courtyard. He then came close to my ear, his gaze darting, checking the room. He started fidgeting with my sheets. “I will help you.”

“How?

“The time will come. You will see.” He stood up. “Okay Coyle, get your rest. I will come for you in three hours,” he said loudly then coughed.

He loosened and removed the restraints.

I tried to get up but found my body demanded rest. I conceded and slipped into sleep comfortably.

“He’s approaching 100%, keep an eye on him. We don’t want a repeat of subject AF1,” Dr. Tessel’s voice slipped into my semiconscious mind.

“That was an isolated idiosyncratic reaction. We should have screened her better. Besides, he has handled the phenylpropanolamine, she didn’t.” Mrs. Tolbert responded.

“Should I take another sample of cells for potential subject AM3?” asked a man I didn’t recognize.

“Not yet, there is still hope for AM1.”

I couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from, whether they were part of a dream or if I was partly awake. I slipped deeper.

I woke to a soft alarm, a repeating tune of five notes. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked around. The alarm had stopped when I rose. On the desk were a set of cargo pants, a green belt and shirt. The same boots I had worn in the death trap sat at the foot of the desk. The death trap, I felt my hip. The bones felt intact; the muscles tight. My shoulder felt the same.

Without more hesitation, I put it all on, knowing they would force me to later anyway. Mr. Collins waited for me outside my room.

“Ready? I think you will enjoy this task.” He grinned.

“Really? Somehow I doubt that.”

He led me out of the courtyard and to a large narrow room at the end of the hall. The room was dimly lit at the far end and stretched out at least a couple hundred feet. A large table stood at the close end. A red cloth draped over the table, covering a bunch of objects. A man in uniform approached me with arm outstretched.

“Good afternoon Coyle. I am Col. Stevens. I will be your instructor for this task.”

I shook his hand, reciprocating his firmness.

“What are we doing?” I said, looking around.

“This,” he said and pulled off the red cloth. At least twenty different firearms ranging from pistols to rifles to machine guns sat organized on the table. “Firearm training.”

“Wow,” I gasped. “Why do I need firearm training?” My mom hated guns so I really didn’t have any experience with them. My dad tried to buy a shotgun once but mom shut him down.

“That’s an appropriate question. The world is changing. Extremism is on the rise and with it violence against the United States. Attacks are happening increasingly in civilian centers. We need trained and capable civilians to act at the point of attack before police and or military action. Somatotech has graciously accepted our request to train its patients to prepare them for emergencies such as a terrorist attack. We understand your elite capability. With such abilities should come a sense of responsibility to your community, your country and ultimately the entire world.”

Sounded like bull crap to me. Somatotech described as ‘gracious’?

“Seems like quite a stretch. You want civilians carrying assault rifles shooting people they feel are terrorists?” I responded.

“No.” He chuckled. “Let me clarify. Not just any civilian. You. You know you are different. Once your abilities and sense of responsibility reach the same level you will be one of the most valuable assets of this country. We hope you won’t waste it. We are placing great trust in you by giving you this training.”

There they go with that ‘asset’ talk again.

“Enough talk. Let’s get started.” He whistled to someone outside of the room and the lights dimmed. A screen descended from the ceiling and a video began.

“Welcome to firearm training Coyle. In this video we will be teaching you firearm safety.”

The video proceeded to show me how to properly handle, arm, disarm, clean, and store a variety of firearms. It lasted only ten minutes and seemed to be on fast forward the entire time.

“Please put on your ear protection and glasses. Coyle, we will start with a simple 22.” He grabbed a rifle from the table and ushered me to a line down the room. “Target one,” he yelled out. A typical target rose from the floor fifty feet away. He handed me the rifle. “Take the appropriate stance, press the stock to your cheek, aim, remove the safety, and press the trigger. You must hit the three quarter inch bullseye five times in a row for us to proceed.”

I held the 22 as they demonstrated in the video and lined up the sights with the target. I removed the safety with my finger and tentatively pulled the trigger. The round tore through the target a full three inches above the bullseye.

“Dang it. Why didn’t it go where I aimed it? Stupid gun.”

“First, it is almost never the gun. You flinched, you were anticipating the fire. Press the trigger, don’t pull it. Smooth it out. Try again and don’t fail.”

I placed the rifle in position again and aimed. Press the trigger, smooth Coyle, smooth. I let it fly with sustained pressure. The round hit just above the target.

“Come on!” I said as I lowered the weapon.

“You are failing. Try pressing the trigger in between inspiration and exhalation. There is a natural break in breathing there. Don’t necessarily hold your breath, just time it. Again.”

I tried again paying close attention to my breathing. Timing it, I pressed the trigger smoothly. Direct hit.

“Heck yeah!” Forgetting my training, I turned with the weapon.

“Hey soldier! Keep your weapon down.” He diverted the barrel. Just then I heard the familiar electric charge building. They would shock the bigeminies out of me if I acted up in here, understandably with all these weapons. The thought had crossed my mind holding the rifle. I could fire my way out of here. Probably not the smartest idea though.

“I’m sorry Sir. I didn’t mean to.”

“It only takes once. Never do it again. Finish the task.” He pointed to the target.

The next four shots came naturally passing through the bullseye in exactly the same spot.

“Good work. Safety on.”

I clicked the safety on and handed him the rifle.

“Now we will move through each of the remaining weapons so you can gain familiarity with each of their strengths and weaknesses.”

One after another, he handed me the firearms ranging from a .45 Colt to a M16 rifle to a M39 sniper rifle. Euphoria swept over me as I fired each of the weapons. Power holding power. My strength matched with the strength of a weapon. Something clicked, as if it was all meant to be.

“Time for accuracy and tactical training.” He whistled again and waved his finger to the man behind the glass.

Up from the floor rose cardboard cut outs of a variety of people. The screen again dropped from the ceiling, displaying a zero. This is the range from my dream, exactly the same. How could I know? Had I already been here, done this?

“This exercise is simple. Shoot the following people.” He grabbed a handgun and fired seven times hitting cardboard cut outs of the same men from my dream and avoiding the more ‘American-looking’ people. “The exercise lasts only two minutes. Each appropriate hit will award you one point. Each inappropriate hit will deduct five points. There is a total of one hundred points, anything below that is failure. Any questions?”

“Which weapon can I use?”

“Grab the M16. Stand behind this line and wait for the lights. Then you can begin. The targets may pop up more than one hundred feet away and anywhere from side to side. You choose your position, whether standing or prone. You can move from side to side. Prepare yourself.”

I took the M16, walked up to the line and put myself in the universal fighting position, shoulders square to my targets.

“Safety off. We start in 10, 9, 8, 7.”

The red lights turned on and the bell rang loudly. The first cardboard men popped up only ten feet from me. My rounds flew accurately through their heads, one after another. The cutouts started appearing in larger groups with ‘civilians’ interspersed with the ‘real’ targets. The same euphoria washed over me as I sensed the power in me and my hands. The last seconds ticked off the timer and the bell rang again.

“Safety on. Step back and place your weapon on the table.”

I did as I was told and glanced at the screen.

Subject AM1: 95 Fail

Subject AM2: 100 Pass

“Which one is my score?”

“Coyle, you failed.”

“What? I hit every target and avoided all the rest!”

“Come with me.” He whistled to the man and all of the targets rose from the floor. We walked thirty or forty feet down the range to a cardboard cutout of a man holding an AK-47.

“Perfect shot, right through his forehead. What’s the problem?”

He pushed over the cutout. Behind it was another cutout of a woman carrying a baby. The bullet went straight through her jaw.

“Minus five. You failed. You have to check your angles, Coyle.”

“Dang. I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

“There is no ‘next time’. You are done.”

“C’mon, give me another chance.”

“Subject 2 did it on the first try. Why would I hold you to a lower standard?”

“Who is subject 2?”

“Another patient, one who didn’t fail two tasks like you.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry, give me a break. This is my first time at this.”

“You still don’t understand. Someone with your capabilities shouldn’t need another chance, unless there is something wrong with you.”

“There is nothing wrong with me.”

“There obviously is, soldier.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“What should I call you, soldier?” He stepped closer to me, getting in my face.

I reacted in turn drawing into his chest. I should rip this guy to shreds.

“Stand down, soldier. Now!”

That pushed me over the edge. My arms shot out. I grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him into the air. The electric charge began.

“Go ahead and shock me now. See what happens!” I carried him to the wall, pinning him on it.

“Coyle, calm down, please. Don’t do this. It will set you back again. You want to see your family and friends? Then you need to put him down.” Mr. Collins had come into the room and stood a safe distance away.

He was right. This would only keep me here longer. But, man, I wanted to slam this jerk to the ground. The Colonel wore a lethal smirk on his face. He knew he had won, my hands were essentially tied. I dropped the piece of trash. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground. I put my hands up and backed up from him.

“You are weak, soldier.”

“What did you say?” I moved towards him. He deserved what I could doll out on him. Mr. Collin’s hand rested on my shoulder.

“Coyle, no. Let’s go now.”

I walked backwards toward the door, keeping my eyes on the Colonel. Mr. Collins smartly put himself between me and the table of weapons. BAM. I punched the wall on the way out, denting in the metal.

“Coyle, you did fine. Don’t let it get you down.”

“It said fail. Fail is fail, Mr. Collins. Oh I wanted to tank that guy.” My breathing began to slow.

“That would have accomplished nothing. Coyle, you didn’t exactly fail. Subject 2 is the only other one to perform on your level. You easily surpassed him on many other tasks.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“No, I can’t.” He was abnormally curt.

“Why not?”

“Patient confidentiality, I’m sorry.”

“Will I meet him?”

“I sincerely hope not,” he whispered, barely audible. Darkness crossed his face. He coughed. “We will talk later,” he said, in between multiple coughs.

He left me there in the courtyard. Who was this Subject 2? Why was he not at the press conference? Surely, they would want to demonstrate his recovery and abilities as well. A chill crept through my bones.

14 Weakness

Mr. Collins brought my dinner that evening.

“She is coming today.”

“Who?”

“Naveah. When she gets here you cannot tell her about the Stages.”

“Oh great. Can’t I just leave before she gets here? I’ve completed all the stages.”

“Coyle, I would let you go. I really would, but I can’t,” he whispered. His eyes shifted around the room. “Come with me.” He stood up and walked out of my room. “Are you coming?” he said from outside.

“Yeah, sorry.” He was acting odd. I glanced out the door but he was nowhere in sight.

“Over here.” His voice emanated from the far corner of the courtyard. He stood behind one of the white pillars in the corner.

“This is the only place on the entire grounds where the cameras can’t see and mics can’t hear. Keep walking.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Just walk. When we round this corner again I will tell you.” I kept pace with him as he led me around the courtyard perimeter.

“Are you being watched as well?”

“Everyone is watching everyone. That is how we keep our work, our secrets safe. No one trusts anyone.”

We made it to the corner again and he whispered.

“I have cancer Coyle.”

“What? Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Mr. Collins.”

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but, Somatotech has promised to treat me…” We made it completely around the corner and he stopped himself. “So, what did you learn from the last task, Coyle?”

I made some crap up about survival techniques to fill the time until we made it to the corner again.

“Somatotech will treat me if your training is successful.”

“Those pieces of trash. So they are blackmailing you?”

“No Coyle, I’m grateful to them. This is my only opportunity to see my grandkids grow. I do it willfully. It is mutually beneficial that you demonstrate you are ready and get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I thought I was done with all the Stages. Why am I still here?” Before he could respond, we rounded the corner again. That’s when I saw her, running towards me. I tried to avoid her but she shifted just as I did. She wrapped her arms around my neck pulling her body close to mine.

“Coyle! I didn’t know we would be here together!” She gave me a tight squeeze and then released, staying close to me.

“Yeah...huh, should be fun. Any others coming?” I looked around expectantly at Mr. Collins. He shook his head slightly.

“Nope, I haven’t seen anybody else! Just you and me! We are going to have so much fun. Can you show me around?”

I didn’t have a chance to object because she grabbed my hand and led me into the courtyard, away from Mr. Collins.

“There is my room.” She pointed to the room directly next to mine. “Where are you?”

I reluctantly pointed. We shared a wall, freakin’ great.

“Yay! We can talk all night!”

Wow, she couldn’t get more annoying. I needed to get out of this dump. Naveah dragged me around the compound, having me explain each room. I promised Mr. Collins that I would not reveal the different Stages so I described them just as the computer had during my orientation.

“Do you want to help me get unpacked?”

“Uh, no. I don’t want to be a bother. I need to use the restroom anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Tap. I felt something hit my butt. Then it registered. She had just slapped me there. I looked up and she smiled back at me. What in the heck was she thinking? I went back into my room.

I looked around for Mr. Collins, but he had left. What was keeping me here? The rest of the day I avoided Naveah, rushing to the bathroom or locking myself in my room with the curtains closed. Mr. Collins didn’t return.

I only came out for dinner, which was brought out by another staff member. I sat, not uttering a word. Naveah tried to make small talk but I wasn’t in the mood.

“Entertainment night!” a woman’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

The staff appeared bringing out a projection screen, projector, two large beanbags, popcorn, and a binder chock full of movies on USB drives.

“You two have fun tonight,” said one of the female assistants with a wink as they left. What was going on? Why then? Why not during the other boring lifeless nights I had been here?

Naveah jumped on one of the beanbags and motioned for me to sit next to her. Instead, I stayed put and thumbed through the movies. I found a few action movies I had missed while under treatment and pulled them out of their sleeves. I connected one of the USB drives to the projector and it instantly began playing. I finally had a connection to the outside world.

“Come on Coyle, sit down.” She again patted the beanbag.

“Naveah, I have a girlfriend,” I blurted out.

“What are you thinking is going to happen?” She stared at me inquisitively. “We are just friends. Friends can sit next to each other can’t they?”

“Naveah, I’m sorry but, we are not friends. We both just happen to be Somatotech patients trapped in this crappy place. That is it.” I regretted the words as they left my tongue.

“What? Why would you say such a thing?” She rolled over on the beanbag covering her face and began to cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” My words fell on deaf ears. She stood up and ran to her room, heaving deep sobs along the way.

Now I felt like a jerk. I could hear her cries from her room. I walked over to the threshold of her room, leaned on the doorframe and focused my eyes on the ground.

“Naveah, I really am sorry. That was uncalled for; I know that. It’s just that sometimes you are a little too forward and it can come off as annoying.” Again, I regretted the words instantly. Never a good idea to mix criticism with apology.

“Too forward? I’ll show you too forward!” She quickly slammed on the close door button in her room and violently shut the curtains.

Not having dealt with a woman scorned before, I knocked on her door.

“Go away Coyle!”

I finally took a hint and backed away. I started towards the beanbags when I decided watching a movie without her would probably be insensitive. So, I went to my room and plopped down on my bed. I grabbed, ‘How to Win Friends and Influence People’ by Dale Carnegie, because I thought it would be appropriate, considering the circumstances. My mind already contained every word, sentence and paragraph so I did not really need to have it in front of me but I enjoyed physically handling the pages. I reached the section on making others feel important when I heard a knock on my door. I looked up to see Naveah standing in her pajamas. Her makeup was smeared on her face and her hair disheveled. I sat up slightly on my pillow.

“Coyle, did you really mean that, what you said?”

“No, I overreacted. Again, I’m sorry. I miss my family, my girlfriend, and my own freakin’ bed.” I lifted the bed sheet and threw it to the side.

She moved towards me and sat on the corner of the bed.

“Part of it is you are always so unwaveringly positive about Somatotech. I really don’t share that opinion. So, I have a hard time liking anything that is tied or even associated to Somatotech. I know that is an excuse, and a lame one at that. I should be more considerate.”

“We are both under tremendous stress here, which may play a part as well, right?” she offered.

The tears were drying on her face and her sobs became less frequent.

“Could be.” I stared up towards the ceiling thinking about my experience of the past few days.

Naveah scooted down the bed, lay back and rested her head on my shoulder and chest. I froze for a moment, not knowing how to respond. She needed this, needed my comfort, and my apology. We lay there for another ten minutes before either of us spoke.

“Coyle, I’m glad we are here together, even if you may not consider us friends. I need someone who understands what I’m going through.” She looked up at me with her round eyes beckoning me to come closer. I held my ground, but she didn’t. Before I could react, she had landed one directly on my lips, holding for a few seconds, breathing in and out, maximizing the effect before I pulled off.

“Naveah, I can’t.” I mumbled out before she promptly landed another. On the second kiss, she opened her mouth slightly pressing me to open mine. Tempting me with a slow gyrating motion, she rolled more onto me, pressing her chest against mine. She attempted to swing her leg over my waist as we kissed. I buckled my own waist and pushed her back, off my lips and chest. “Really Naveah, I can’t.”

“Okay.” She smiled, kneeling on the side of the bed. “Let me know when you can.” With that, she planted a quick peck on my cheek and left the room with a new swagger.

I should have pushed her off immediately. Like most guys my age, I was weak, and having ‘superhuman’ abilities didn’t make me immune to the effects of teenage hormones. After a moment those ‘hormones’ disappeared. Hollow emptiness came over me. I had betrayed Jamie.

The next morning Naveah sat down across from me at the breakfast table. She let a prideful little smirk cut across her lips as she glanced towards me.

“Good morning, Coyle. Did you sleep well? I sure did.”

I ignored her, finishing my breakfast.

“You have your final task today Coyle. Are you excited?”

“What are you talking about? I’m done. I’m getting out of here, away from you, as soon as I can.”

“You don’t mean that Coyle. I know you enjoyed it just as much as I.” She smirked again.

“Shut up, just shut up.” I stood up and left her at the table.

Mr. Collins met me in the courtyard.

“What is this about another task?”

“Your final task. Walk with me.” We took the all too familiar path around the courtyard.

“This last task is a psychological one. There will be a series of questions to gauge your readiness to reenter the greater society.”

We made it to the corner again.

“The test will determine whether they can trust you. You have to convince them, or they will keep you here as long as it takes.”

“I’ll try.”

“Coyle, subject 2 is someone very similar to yourself. He…”

“Mr. Collins please bring Coyle to the monitor room.” The loudspeaker rang out.

“We better go. If I can, I will tell you more later.”

We entered the room to two men sitting behind a desk, one with his back to me staring at the computer screen. The Snake turned around in the chair and wryly smiled.

“Dr. Tessel. I didn’t expect…”

“I take great interest in you Coyle. This last task is so important I decided to administer it myself. Please put on the sensors Mr. Collins.”

“What sensors? What is going on here?”

“Coyle, absolute honesty is what we desire. The sensors are present to guarantee it.”

Mr. Collins proceeded to place sticky pads all over my chest and arms. He then wrapped a blood pressure cuff on my right arm and then connected all of it to a console.

“Okay, let’s begin. Please state your full name.”

“Coyle Fallon Murray.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“What type of cancer did you have?”

“Acute lymphoblastic leukemia.”

Dr. Tessel and a technician checked the monitor after each question.

“Who cured your cancer?” Dr. Tessel asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what organization or hospital cured your cancer?”

Hesitantly I responded, “Somatotech.”

“Good, are you grateful to Somatotech for curing your cancer?”

“I’m.” There was no denying it. They gave me the gift of life.

“Are you grateful to Somatotech for improving your body and mind?”

I tightened some of my already tense muscles. “I’m.”

Dr. Tessel and the technician smiled at each other. “Excellent. Thank you for telling the truth,” said Dr. Tessel.

“Do you feel indebted to Somatotech?”

“In some ways.”

Dr. Tessel looked up from the monitor. “In what ways do you not feel indebted to Somatotech?”

Mr. Collins gave me a quick glance. I could see a few beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

I reconsidered what I was about to say. I wanted to tell him off. But for Mr. Collin’s sake, I held back.

“I do feel indebted to you all, in many ways. I just also ascribe some of my health to my dad and girlfriend, to their support.”

“That’s ridiculous. Our science cured you. No emotion, hug, kiss, words, or any other silly human interaction can do anything about biology. Get that out of your mind.” He was flustered.

“I just…”

“Stop. Let’s continue with the questions,” he interrupted me. “Are you loyal to Somatotech?”

“I’m.”

Both Dr. Tessel and the technician creased their brows.

“Let me rephrase the question. Would you betray Somatotech?”

“What do you mean by betray?” I put on an exaggerated confused look.

“Would you do anything that would jeopardize our work?” He leaned forward towards me.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Coyle, answer the question. Yes or no.” He adjusted in his seat, annoyed.

“I’m not sure how I would.”

BAM. He slammed his hand on the table. “Coyle, do not be obstinate.”

“Dr. Tessel, I’m merely asking how I could ever betray the benevolent company that gave me so much.” I smiled.

“Drop the crap, Coyle. Now!”

Thinking of Mr. Collins I conceded. “Okay, okay. I won’t do anything that would be perceived as betrayal.”

The technician shook his head. I really didn’t have plans to do anything, but maybe my subconscious did.

“The program is telling us that is a half-truth. What are you not telling us?”

“Listen, I’m my own person. I have my own opinions. Will I always say what you want me to? I don’t know. But, Dr. Tessel rest assured, you have given me a great gift, I will always recognize and publicize what you have done.”

He looked me over as if gauging by my body language alone if I was telling the truth. The technician nodded.

“Fine. That’s enough. We will talk later before you go.”

“I’m going? Yes!” I hardly held back my emotion. Mr. Collins gently patted my shoulder in approval.

“You will leave tomorrow morning.” Dr. Tessel stood up to leave. “Mr. Collins.” He indicated toward me.

“Of course. Let’s go Coyle.” We walked out of the room and into the courtyard. The sun shone brightly through the open air. Mr. Collins put his arm around my shoulder and gave a manly squeeze. “I was a little worried in there Coyle, but if he is letting you go home, he must be pleased with your progress.”

“What happens now?”

“What do you mean, you go home. That’s it.”

“No, I mean with you? When do you start treatment?”

His smile dissolved. “Hopefully soon.”

“No, Mr. Collins, that is unacceptable. They need to start it now. You did what you were supposed to.” I stopped him with my hand and stood in his way.

“Coyle keep your voice down.”

“Why? You need care. I did what I was supposed to, now you should get what you rightfully deserve.”

“Coyle, if they heard that I influenced you in any way they would start the training over. Do not mention this ever again.” He whispered so quietly that no normal person would be able to hear him. His lips hardly moved.

“Okay Mr. Collins. Suit yourself. But I think you should demand it.”

“Coyle, please get your things together. You leave in the morning.” He walked away.

“Wait, what about subject 2?”

He shuffled back towards me and came close to my ear. “I have already told you too much. I’m sorry Coyle. I have to go.” He left me.

He must have been kidding about getting my stuff together, because I had none. A dark thought then crossed my mind. Did Mr. Collins manipulate me? Did he tell me all that crap about cancer and subject 2 just so I would agree to all this? He had left the courtyard before I could catch him.

I stayed in my room with the door closed. I sure didn’t want to see ‘Miss Way Too Forward’ again. Around 10 pm, Dr. Tessel entered my room unannounced. I stood up, not in respect, but in defiance.

“Coyle, your progress has been stellar. In some areas, you were the best we have experienced. You should be commended.”

I stared coolly at him, not moving an inch.

He continued, ignoring my silence. “Now, you are returning to your daily life. You responses in the task were less than trustworthy, which is worrisome. I hope you appreciate what we have done here. Do not waste it.”

“What is it you want?” I blurted out, tired of beating around the bush.

“Loyalty. Also, we require that you demonstrate your abilities at some of our special survivor events and mind your own business. That is all. Live your life, now with the greatest gift anyone has ever been given.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“That is why we performed your exit test. To make sure you are on our side. We don’t take lightly those who take and then betray. Cooperate and we, together, will change the world. Rebel, and not only your life will be over, but also all those close to you.”

“Are you threatening to hurt Jamie?”

“Of course. We will destroy everything you hold dear if you betray us. Plain and simple, it is your choice.”

His unabashed threat hit my chest hard and sent my mind reeling. Would he actually do it? He certainly knew what mattered most to me, and apparently had no reservation in using her to force my hand.

“Coyle, say hi to the good Pastor for me.”

This time he gave me no opportunity to respond. He immediately shut the glass door and the light on the tower turned red. I stood there in shock for a few minutes.

That night I had a particularly deep sleep. In the morning, I awoke in my own apartment on Delaware St. Tightly tucked under the covers; I couldn’t help but think this was a message. They were in control; my life for all practical purposes was theirs now.

I looked at my phone and realized I had been at Somatotech for eight days. That means I was under for three to begin with. It was Saturday. I sat up and a rush of pain flowed into my head. I let out a slight groan and heard someone moving in the living room.

“Dad?” I yelled out.

The footsteps quickened and approached my room. There was a soft knock.

“Coyle? Can I come in?” Jamie’s voice sounded like sweet music.

I looked down and noticed all I was wearing was a pair of white Somatotech boxer shorts. “One second, let me put something on.” I called back to her, somewhat embarrassed. I quickly threw on some pants and opened the door.

“Hey there!” I grabbed her by the waist and held her close. She put her head on my bare chest listening intently to the beat of my heart.

“Why didn’t you come last weekend? I was worried something had happened.”

I pushed her back slightly so I could see her face. “My dad didn’t tell you? I was at a Somatotech training facility for the past week or so.”

“I tried calling you and him. He never answered. I left messages, and neither you nor he called me back. My dad and I were worried something had happened to both of you.”

“Where is my dad now?”

“At work, I think. We finally came over here yesterday when I assumed he would be home from work. He acted weird, like he was dazed or something. He wouldn’t even look at me.”

I could see the concern on her face. The hair on the back of my neck rose instantly.

“My dad asked if he was alright and he said everything was fine and that you would be home tomorrow, you know today, but he didn’t say where you were. He then abruptly asked us to leave. Something is definitely not right with him.”

“He answered the phone only once while I was there. The other times, all I got was his voicemail.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked meeting my eyes.

“They forbade it. I could only call family, and only for thirty minutes a day. Pretty ridiculous.”

“That is. I was quite upset with you, but eventually, after a few nights of crying,” She winked at me and continued, “I realized you would contact me if you possibly could. Did your dad act strangely at your appointment last week?”

“Um, not really. When I caught him…” I hesitated. Dr. Tessel had made serious threats, none of which seemed idle. I had no doubt that he, through his legion of cronies, would lash out if I rebelled. That was abundantly clear. I chose to divert the conversation rather than tell her about what happened to my dad and Dr. Baldwin.

“I mean, when the higher ups at Somatotech caught wind of my progress they decided to accelerate my training. Otherwise, I would have been there for another five days. My dad seemed proud of me.”

“Hmm, well I hope he is okay. I’m just so happy you are home, Coyle. I felt empty without you.” She gave me another hug.

A brick landed in my stomach right then. Even though Naveah had thrown herself at me, I felt the intense, brooding weight of guilt.

“Jamie, there is something I need to tell you.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“What is it?” she said without lifting her head from my chest.

“I wasn’t alone at the training facility. There was this girl…”

She shot back, breaking our embrace.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she was there also. The same girl from the press conference.”

“The one who seemed enamored with you?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s the one. Well, she kinda got on me.”

Jamie stared at me intently. I could see it already in her eyes; the betrayal had already begun to set in deep in her heart.

“I should have pushed her off right away; she kissed me before I did, and…I kissed her back. I’m so sorry, Jamie. I pushed her away and nothing happened after that, I swear.”

Tears welled up in her icy blue eyes. They screamed ‘Why?’ ‘Why would you hurt me when I have stuck by you, supported you, loved you through all of this?’

“I knew something was wrong Coyle, I could feel it. I thought you were hurt, that something awful had happened to you. All this time you were fooling around with that whore.” Her arm rose.

The sting registered before her strike. My vision blurred for a moment then cleared. She had turned to leave. I grabbed her arm.

“Jamie, I…”

“Don’t touch me Coyle. I want you to stay away from me.” She shook off my grip and stormed out the door.

My feet seemed cemented to the floor. I knew how she would react if I went to her. I had lost her. I could hear her crying in her car despite her door being shut. I wished my ears couldn’t hear it. I covered my ears to tamp it out. Racked with guilt, I ran to my room, shut the door and cranked up my music. I lay in my bed until I heard another knock at the door. I shot up and threw open the door.

“Jamie?”

My dad stood there, stone faced.

“Dad!” I went to hug him but he stayed stiff as a board.

“Good to have you home, son,” he said and lightly patted my back. Before my mom died my dad would give the best hugs. Now this felt lifeless, loveless.

“Dad, is everything okay?”

“I have to get back to work. I was instructed to let you sleep in, which I did.”

“Can’t you stay for a minute? Dad, I need to talk to you. Jamie and I, we broke up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a nice girl.” He turned to leave.

“Dad! I’m hurting here. Don’t do this again. Don’t you dare walk out on me again!”

He stopped in the hallway, not turning around. He stood there for a moment like he was debating what to do. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said and continued out of our apartment.

Back to my dysfunctional family, great. I plopped down on my bed again, cranked up the music and tried to lose myself in something other than Jamie and my dad.

15 Revelations and Contacts

That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, tormented with my guilt. The only person that made me happy, even feel like a whole person, was out of my life. I looked at my phone. 11:30pm. She would normally be up.

“Jamie I’m so sorry. ttl?” I texted her.

“The user you have attempted to contact is no longer accepting texts.” An automatic text instantly returned.

Not willing to accept defeat, I called her. It rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail.

“I need to talk to you Jamie. I feel terrible. I know I messed up and I’m sorry. Please call me back.” I hung up.

“Dangit!” I tossed my phone. It slammed against the wall, the battery popping out. I had thrown it a little too hard. I tried to put it back together but the back plate cracked. Defeated, I placed it in my nightstand and collapsed on my bed.

After a few minutes, I heard a slight tap on the plastic bag I had placed over my broken window. I propped up on my elbow to listen more carefully. Nothing. I brushed it off and lay back down in bed, thoroughly defeated. Another tap and then another, like a small object was hitting it. I listened closer and could hear someone making the effort to throw something at my window. I peeled back the duct tape and peered out. In the darkness, I could make out the form of a man.

“Coyle,” he whispered. “It’s Dr. Strayer. Can we talk? But keep your voice down.”

“Dr. Strayer! Sure, let me come down.”

“Don’t go through the front door, they are watching that exit.”

He always seemed to send me through windows.

I pulled back the duct tape slowly and slipped through my window. Grabbing on to the pipe next to my window I flung myself down gracefully. Perfect landing. The training had its benefits.

I approached Dr. Strayer who was about fifteen feet from the apartment building near the alley, which went in between the apartment buildings. He was dressed in all black and had a mask over his face. As he lifted it off his face, I could see the anxiety in his eyes.

“Stay close to the building!”

He pushed me back.

“Hey, what the...?” No need to get violent, Dr. Strayer!

“Coyle, there is something you should know.” He hesitated.

“What is it?” I quickly interjected.

“While you attended Somatotech training, with the help of a, uh, college buddy, I was able to gain access to some of Somatotech’s records. It took him awhile, but we finally found your medical chart. It was heavily encrypted; obviously they didn’t want anyone accessing it.”

“What did it say?”

“For starters, that object in your neck is a GPS tracking device. They track your every move. I pushed you back because it has a 3-meter zone in which they cannot detect movement. I had wondered how they knew you had come to me at the hospital.”

“Well, get it out of me!” I scratched at it.

“I will, but I can’t do it here. There is a place where we can. Meet me at the Heritage Mortuary on Santa Fe Ave tomorrow at 5 p.m. There is a Mexican restaurant directly behind it, enter through there and go through the back door to the mortuary. If we stay in that buffer zone they shouldn’t suspect anything.” He looked at his watch. “I have to go.” He turned to leave.

“Dr. Strayer is everything okay?”

“No, Coyle everything is definitely not okay. Something much bigger is going on. We will talk tomorrow. Be careful.”

"But Dr. Strayer, I need to talk to you about what happened during training," I objected to his insistence.

"Tomorrow!" he uncharacteristically raised his voice and then reflexively lowered it. “I know all about it. We will talk tomorrow.” With that, he ran off into the darkness. I effortlessly climbed the pole and crawled back into my window. Something much bigger? I again scratched the back of my neck where the GPS device was implanted. I had difficulty falling asleep, my mind exercising different scenarios on what something much bigger could be.

The next day I had my appointment with the army recruiter, so I called up Aedan to see if he could accompany me.

Aedan had been my friend since I moved to our apartment building on Delaware Street. He lived a few blocks to the west on Galapago Street and came from an Irish American family as well. His father had died from AIDS when Aedan was ten years old, just old enough to make an indelible mark on him. His father had contracted the HIV virus from a dirty needle he shared for injecting heroin. The treatments had bankrupted his family, which eventually forced Aedan to start work at age thirteen so they could eat. His mom had stopped abusing drugs a few years before his dad died, but unfortunately, the secondary affects had rendered her nerves permanently on edge. No amount of anti-anxiety medications can reverse twenty years of recreational drug abuse.

Our paths crossed during our freshman year of high school. While most guys were trying out for football and soccer, I had dedicated my time to improving my skateboarding. One Friday after school at Cushing, a group of jerks had sped into the parking lot in a shiny black F-150. Three of the jerks were standing in the bed of truck and pulled out a water balloon launcher. They had proceeded to bombard the park with shaving-cream-filled balloons. One had slammed into my chest knocking me off my skateboard and coating me from head to toe. I had fallen back and smacked my head on a nearby rail. Aedan had been walking home from a friend’s house when he saw the attack.

“What in the hell are you doing?” He had yelled at the assailants. They all turned to see who had dared challenge them.

“Get ready to eat it, dork.” One of them had yelled as they aimed the launcher at him.

Aedan had dove behind a car as the balloon sailed past. He had flipped open his switchblade and while they loaded another he had darted behind another car. They hadn’t seen his progress and had shot another one near the other car. He had crept along the cars parked on the street until he crouched behind a car a few yards away from the jerks.

I had seen my opportunity to help.

“Hey over here! You got lucky with that one.” I had waved my skateboard at them. Adjusting, they had yanked back on the elastic, unaware of Aedan as he closed the gap. They had let it fly, missing me by a few yards.

A loud pop and then a hiss had emanated from the side of the truck. It had buckled down on the front passenger side.

“What the?” the driver had yelled out.

Aedan had popped up from the front end and given the jerks the finger as he turned to run.

“Get him!”

Aedan had bolted towards the road, running through the parking lot. Three of the jerks had jumped out of the bed and trailed far behind him. Aedan’s legs had moved faster than anyone I had ever seen. The driver and passenger had remained in the truck and began launching balloons far into the air over the lot. Aedan had bobbed and weaved as the projectiles rained down on the street throwing large globs of cream high into the air. He had hopped the chain-link fence, trudged through the ditch and disappeared behind some railroad cars on the tracks next to Santa Fe Ave. Realizing he had escaped, the jerks had returned to their incapacitated truck.

I had slinked off from the skate park, not wanting to draw attention and headed home. As I rounded the block to my apartment complex, I had caught sight of Aedan. He must have looped around.

“Hey!” I had yelled to him, a full block ahead of me.

He had picked up his pace.

“Wait up!”

He had stopped, realizing I would have followed him. He had turned to face me.

“What do you want?” he had yelled back.

“Just wanted to thank you, man. That was ballsy going right at them like that.” I had caught up to him.

“Do you know those guys?” He pointed back towards the park.

“Nah, never seen them before.”

“They don’t go to our school?”

“Do we go to the same school?”

Aedan had rolled his eyes and a slight look of disappointment had flashed on his face for a second. Even though he had looked offended, I came to find out he wanted to keep it that way. He liked staying relatively unknown.

“The one and only Englewood high, where you’re rich or poor, high or low, upscale or destitute, jerk or jerked.” He had looked me over. “You used to be rich, what happened?”

“I wasn’t rich. I mean, we were well off. But my mom died and…”

“Oh shoot man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry dude, happens all the time.”

“Tell me about it.”

We had talked as we walked to his apartment building. He had told me all about his family and his dead dad. We hung out often after that day. Aedan and I never talked about our dead parents after that day; we had a silent understanding of the pain we experienced. Neither of us even felt the need to discuss it, besides we knew we had each other’s back. So Aedan agreed to come to the meeting without hesitation, as I would have done for him.

We arrived ten minutes early hoping to get a table near the exit. Unfortunately, SSgt Williams was waiting for us at the same booth where Jamie and I would sit. He waved us over.

“Coyle Murray?” he smiled and outstretched his hand.

“Yes, and this is my friend.” I shook his hand. He had a firm handshake but I squeezed harder. A wide grin crossed his face.

“Hi Aedan,” he didn’t extend his hand to him.

“Hi,” Aedan replied curtly.

I didn’t ask how he knew Aedan’s name; I had only told him I would bring a friend.

“Why don’t we sit down? Order whatever you would like.” He motioned towards the far side of the booth.

Aedan and I sat on that side of the booth and SSgt Williams on the other. The waitress came over and we ordered sandwiches and drinks.

“Coyle, I’m going to cut to the chase. The Army wants you. We know of your unique abilities. I was shown pictures of you before and after your therapy and let me say the transformation has been astounding.”

"How do you know about all of that?"

"That is unimportant. We are willing to offer you more than we have ever offered another recruit. Not only will we provide you with a full ride scholarship to any university but also we will grant you automatic admission to West Point, our premiere university. You will be free to study whatever you would like. How does that sound?"

"Wow that sounds like a lot. But, again, I haven't even really thought about college."

"No need to think, this is your ticket. You would start this fall; we will pay for your moving costs and give you a $30,000 signing bonus."

"Wait, this fall? I haven't even finished high school. In fact, I’m behind because of chemo."

"We can take care of that. In your medical chart, it clearly demonstrates increased intelligence because of the treatment. Your school board has agreed to allow you to take a special test to graduate. You would be essentially done with High school." He smiled.

“You certainly have done your homework.”

“We always do. We will need to move quickly on this if you are interested. I brought the initial paperwork with me. Let’s get started on it now.” He held out an Army-labeled pen.

“I better talk this over with my father.”

“Your father is on board. I have already spoken with him,” he retorted.

“No my dad is not.”

“Coyle, I just spoke with him. He said it would be an honor to have a son serve in the military.”

“That’s a bunch of bull. He told me recently he didn’t want me joining. Did you see the Somatotech press conference?”

“Apparently he has had a change of heart. How about we call him?” He pulled out his phone and dialed my dad. He slid the phone over to me. It was my dad’s number.

“Hello?”

“Dad? I’m sitting here with that Army recruiter, SSgt Williams, and he is saying you are okay with me joining the army?”

“That’s correct, Coyle. I spoke with SSgt Williams this morning.”

“Dad, what in the hell are you talking about. You already told me you would never…”

“I changed my mind. It would be an honor to have one of my sons serve in the military.” His voice monotone.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m well. We can talk later. Goodbye.” Click. I slowly put down the phone.

“See Coyle, we all want what is best for you.” A slight grin crept onto his face.

“I’m not ready to sign up for this.”

“I understand your hesitance. It is a huge decision. But let me make it even simpler. How about a $50,000 signing bonus? I know you and your father could sure use the money.” He pulled out a file from his briefcase. “All you have to do is sign here and we will get the process started.”

“Slow down! I already said I wasn’t ready. I need to think.”

“Suit yourself. I can’t guarantee this offer will still be on the table if you wait even another day. Let’s discuss the positives of joining the army.”

This guy pushed harder than a vacation time-share agent. He went off, describing all the presidents, senators, CEOs and other successful men who served in the military. I tuned him out.

It all didn’t make sense. Why would my Dad do a one hundred and eighty from just a few days ago? He now wants to ship me off, get rid of me?

“I can’t do this right now, I’m sorry. I will call you sometime.” I interrupted him and stood up to leave.

He reached out to my arm but missed by an inch. “Coyle, think of your future.”

Aedan and I left the café without looking back.

“That is a pretty amazing offer, Coyle. WestPoint is ridiculously hard to get into, and 50K, damn man that would be sweet! But, all admitted cadets get a full ride, so that scholarship isn’t particularly exceptional.”

“I had never thought of joining the military, besides I would never join through that guy.”

“Sounds like you need to talk to your dad some more.”

“I already had. Remember the press conference? My dad told me there is no way he would let me go.”

“Again, man you better talk to him.”

I agreed and drove back towards his apartment. We sat in silence as I pondered how my life would be in the military.

“Hey, Murray,” often we referred to each other by our last names, “you seem different, and I don’t mean your body, that is obvious, but something deeper, man, like something is missing. Do you feel different?”

“Well I feel like crap since Jamie left me, if that is what you mean.”

“Nah man, it was even before then. Ever since your treatment something has been different.”

I decided to tell the truth. “There are times at night while lying in my bed, when everything is quiet, and I’m thinking about the changes I have gone through; a deep hollow feeling will come over me.”

“Whoa dude.”

“You know I don’t believe in God or the Devil, but I imagine it feels like what the religious talk about, you know, leaving God’s grace. Almost like the light everyone receives when they come into this world was taken from me. Weirdly though, I’m not sad in its absence, I’m really indifferent.”

“Shoot man, I’m sorry. Sounds like they messed with your soul. Those pieces of s…”

“There is no such thing as a soul.” I interrupted him.

“Coyle, yes there is, dang it, and we each have one.”

“That’s what people and religions want you to believe dude.”

“No man. They’re real. I’m not lying. I felt it leave my dad when he…” He left it there. We sat in silence for a moment.

“Whatever man, they probably messed with my hormones or neurotransmitters.”

“You can tell yourself that, sure, but I think it’s deeper. Take a look at your eyes sometime Coyle, you’ll see.”

“Shut up dude. I’ve had enough.”

“Aight, aight but, I’d pray or meditate or something if I were you. You may need some help from above.” He put his hands together as if he were a praying.

I stopped at his building and he got out without another word. As I drove towards the mortuary, I adjusted the rear view mirror so I could see my eyes. They looked like they always looked. Aedan was full of it. But would I ever be really happy again? The thought sent a dark arrow into my heart and my stomach sank.

I tried calling Jamie on my duct-taped phone again. No answer, in fact, now it went directly to voicemail. I cursed and drove to the restaurant.

16 Sopapillas and The Russian

The Mexican restaurant was a hole in the wall kinda place. I wondered how I was supposed to get through the back. I had checked the narrow passageway between the restaurant and mortuary to see if I could get to it that way but there was a barbed wire fence blocking the way. Someone is probably following me anyway, so something rash like jumping over this fence might tip him off. The restaurant was my best bet.

The door creaked loudly as I entered. I immediately felt out of place as the few men sitting at the sparse tables turned to see who had come in the door.

“Hola,” I spurted out.

They stared at me blankly.

I grabbed a menu and sat down at the closest table. I looked at my watch, 4:55pm.

“Hello, welcome to Salsitas, what can I get you?”

I looked up to see a cute young Hispanic girl holding a pen and pad.

“Hi!” I smiled a little too gingerly. “Um, well, all I need is a drink.” I stumbled, but I didn’t want to order food and be stuck here eating.

“Are you sure? No food? What kind of drink would you like?”

I could feel all of the men’s eyes on me and I knew they were all listening.

“A coke would be great, thank you.”

“Coming right up.” She smiled.

I scanned the restaurant and found a small hallway leading to the back of the building. I went to stand but nonchalantly sat back down as I noticed I was still being watched like a hawk. The cute waitress returned with my drink and a straw.

“Here you go. Are you sure you don’t want to eat? Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”

“Thank you. Uh, no I haven’t. Sorry.” I lifted the menu and pretended to scan through the entrees.

“I recommend the stuffed sopapillas; my mother makes them the best.” She smiled.

“Those sound great. I’ll take those.” That was a mistake. I gotta get out of here. “Um, do you have a restroom?” Please, oh please be down that hallway.

“Yes we do, down there on the left. The sopapillas take about ten minutes to cook.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and pulled out my phone. 5:05. Crap.

She smiled at me and walked off. I stood up and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. The bathroom was on the back wall but the hallway ended with no visible way out. I entered the bathroom and noticed a small window. I locked the door and slowly tried to open the window. It opened violently and made a loud racket. As I lifted myself up into the window, there was a knock at the door.

“Señor, is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, I just slipped, I’m okay. I will be out in a minute.” I yelled back from inside the window.

I could just barely squeeze through and had to wriggle like a snake to get out. I fell forward but was able to catch myself with my hands and go into a perfectly balanced handstand. A large metal door stood before me with no knob. I knocked lightly and subsequently heard it unlock. It opened only about a foot and I stepped in. Inside there were multiple metal tables, scales, and instruments. A large man with a scruffy beard was closing a closet at the far wall. Dr. Strayer approached me.

“Coyle, what took you so long?” A flash of anger crossed his face. He controlled it. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. This is Dr. Bartnev.”

“Hello Coyle Murray.” He had a thick Russian accent.

“Dr. Bartnev is a surgeon I met during my sabbatical at Moscow State University of Medicine. I convinced him to immigrate here because of the opportunities for surgeons at that time. Unfortunately, he…”

“I have hard time with English,” he interjected.

“The medical board would not accept him. So he found other ways to utilize his surgical abilities here at the mortuary and also at the morgue.”

“So he is going to take this out of me?” I pointed to my neck.

“Exactly. We set up this table as close to the wall as possible. Lie down on your stomach.”

They had draped a sheet over the metal table but the coldness went right through. I shuttered as I laid face down. My head dangled off the end until Dr. Bartnev placed a headpiece that supported my face, kind of like a massage table.

“Is this going to hurt?”

“I was able to swipe some lidocaine before I was fired, so we can…”

“Fired? You were fired? Why?” I turned to look at him but Dr. Bartnev pushed me down.

“Dr. Tessel has many friends in high places, it appears he pulled some strings and…”

Before he could continue, Dr. Bartnev stuck a needle in the skin of the back of my neck.

“Son of a b..” I basically grunted out. I had experienced injections before and none had felt as excruciatingly painful as this one. The pain shot straight up and down my spine like electricity.

“Calm down it was just a little stick.”

“No, Dr. Strayer that felt like something much more.”

“Hmm. Put an extra few ccs in there.”

After a few moments, Dr. Bartnev pulled out a scalpel and made a small incision just to the right of the device. Next, he grabbed a probe and released some of the connective tissue between my skin and the fat below. He found the device in the fat under my skin. He then took forceps and attempted to remove it. He tugged slowly. Burning searing pain instantly shot down my spine and into my extremities. My body contracted and I curled up on the table.

“Help me,” I squeaked out. Paralysis gripped me. All of my muscles were in rigid spasm.

“Coyle!” Dr. Strayer yelled and jumped to my side. He felt my tense muscles. He placed his stethoscope down on my skin and listened to my heart and lungs. The cool metal felt like ice. I could feel Dr. Bartnev further dissecting the tissues around the device.

“Oh my! This is not good.” Dr. Bartnev exclaimed and took a step back.

Dr. Strayer came around to the other side of the bed and examined the device.

“Coyle, we are in trouble. They somehow found a way to incorporate the GPS into your central nervous system. Your spinal nerves course through it. Not only do messages come to it and from it, it appears derives power from your own neural network. We can’t take it out; it could cause permanent paralysis of your arms and diaphragm. You would likely die.”

“Can you at least disable it?” My muscles were beginning to relax.

“I don’t know. I believe it is so integrated into your nerves that by turning it off, messages from your brain would not be fully transmitted to the rest of your body. It looks like it’s acting as a conduit.”

“I close him up; there is nothing to do here.”

“Let me document it.”

After a few flashes from Dr. Strayer’s camera Dr. Bartnev went back to work, suturing a deep layer of tissue and then my skin.

“You need wear scarf for a while.”

“I know it will be tough Coyle, but you will need to wear clothes which cover the incision we made. Unfortunately, it is high enough that a collared shirt won’t adequately hide it.”

“You get up.” He taped a dressing on my neck.

I sat up on the cold table. A wave of lightheadedness came over me and I began to fall. Dr. Strayer steadied me before I tumbled over.

“Sorry, I used to dead people. No movement.”

“What are we going to do with it?” I asked expectantly. Up until this point, Dr. Strayer had always had the answer.

“We can’t do anything until I find out how they implanted it. I do know of one other patient who went through the same therapy as you. I’m going to try to contact her to see if she had the same implant. I know she didn’t exactly have the same result as you.” He indicated toward my body. He then looked at his watch. “Coyle you better go, they will get suspicious.”

“But Dr. Strayer, you were going to tell me more about what is going on. I need to know.”

“No time right now. I will contact you soon though.”

“Can I call you?” I said with desperation.

“No, I guarantee your phone is bugged. I will find you, don’t worry.” He put on his trusting doctor look, which then switched to an overtly serious look. “You need to go.” He started to push me out the door.

“Wait, what is her name?”

“Who’s?”

“The girl who knows what I’m going through.”

“Roxanne Martin.”

With that, he slammed the door in my face.

Someone out there has experienced what I had experienced. Until now, I thought I was unique, alone. I stood there for a moment contemplating my next move. A twinge of pain shot out of my wound. Their control over me was confirmed. A freakin’ implantable GPS device. I would rip it out if I could.

I didn’t waste any more time in the alley. I lifted myself back into the window and down into the bathroom. When I lowered myself down, I noticed that the door was open. The waitress stepped into the doorway and placed one heavy hand on her hip. She wore a seriously disparaging look on her face.

“Have a change of heart?” she asked forcefully.

“Wha...?”

“You were trying to stiff us? Leave without paying for your drink? Why would you order and then leave?”

“I’m sorry. I had to do something. I didn’t mean to give that impression.”

“What did you have to do, hmm? Why crawl out the window? We have a front door.” The men from the dining area now joined her.

Oh, crap. How do I get out of this one?

“Are the sopapillas ready?” Just flung that out there, hoping to deflect the course of this conversation.

“Answer the young lady’s question,” A slow voice came from the back of the group of men. The men backed away in unison revealing a tall man in a light suit with no tie leaning against the hallway wall. He had a toothpick in his mouth, which he shifted from one side of his mouth to the other. A scar extended from his left eye down to his cheek.

“I’m being followed and I needed to get close to the mortuary without them seeing me. I’m sorry to have created a scene. If I wasn’t planning on paying I wouldn’t have come back. Please…”

“Please follow me,” he replied.

He turned and walked towards the dining room. The men in the hallway stood still, eyes fixed on me. The cute waitress, with arms tightly crossed, nodded towards the hallway. I walked through the gauntlet of men to the dining room with my eyes fixed on the ground. The man was sitting at a small table near the front window of the restaurant.

“Sit down.”

I sat down across from him and he parted the thick burgundy curtain covering the window.

“Look across the street.”

My eyes quickly adjusted to the brightness. An all too familiar black SUV parked across the street. Through the tint, I could see two men, one with binoculars fixed on the restaurant.

“You are a young man, why do you have grown men following you?”

“I know some of their secrets.”

“Secrets can be very valuable,” he said as he continued to stare out the window. “I have seen many men killed for their secrets.” He slowly turned his head just enough to make eye contact with me and then returned to the window. This was an individual whose background obviously wasn’t typical. Most individuals only experience violence sporadically, not including elective exposure through ‘entertainment’. The scars on his face told a story of palpable violence. The scars on his knuckles demonstrated that he not only received but also doled it out.

My phone rang. I jumped up, startled by the sound. It was my dad. I nervously silenced it and quickly looked up.

“Who is it? Are they contacting you?”

“No, it is my dad. I really need to take this.” I hastily took out my wallet, pulled out $20 and dropped it on the table. I stood up to leave but the man grabbed my arm tightly with his right hand.

“I’m in the business of protection, which it appears you are in particular need of.” He reached into his coat with his other hand.

“Hey, hey! I don’t want any trouble…I’m sorry.” I stammered and stumbled backwards tripping over a chair. His grip on my arm kept me upright.

A grin formed on his scarred face and he revealed a business card between his fingers. “Call me whenever you feel ready for my protection.” His grip eased off.

“Thank you, uh, will do,” I took a quick look at the card.

‘Manuel Sanchez – Owner – Sanchez Protective Services - (303)-555-5029’

"Sorry to cause trouble," I rushed out without making eye contact with anyone else.

I flipped up my collar so the goons wouldn’t see the bandage. As I walked to my car I made a point to stare directly at them in the SUV, they needed to know I was also watching them.

I answered the phone on the last ring as I got to my car.

“Hi Dad.”

“Coyle, where are you?” he said, his voice tinged with anger.

“I, uh, went to meet with that army recruiter.”

“That was over an hour ago, I spoke with SSgt Williams. Where are you now?”

“I wanted to get some food so I went to a Mexican restaurant Aedan recommended.” Lying to my dad had become second nature.

“I need you to come home now. We have your future to discuss.”

Oh great, more of this future crap. “What do you mean?”

“You are joining the army,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Another choice you are trying to take from me. Fat chance Dad, fat freakin’ chance.” I hung up. Bucky’s horn sounded loudly as I slammed my fists into the steering wheel.

“Arrgghh.” I yelled out to no one in particular. What is wrong with my dad? I definitely wasn’t going home right now to find out. I needed to find Roxanne Martin.

I stopped at the library and went up to their computer lab on the second floor. I sat at a computer with a view of the entire first floor and entrance.

I googled ‘Roxanne Martin Denver’ and got thousands of links. Unfortunately, there was a popular ‘entertainer’ with the same name who routinely ‘performed’ at a local Denver strip club. Google was excessively broad.

I opened a simple text editor and began writing a JavaScript that took data from the three major search engines, Google, Bing, and Yahoo and correlated it with the major social networks. Even the basic demographic data on the limited view profiles could be correlated with the search data. The script then organized the data based on the zip code in which any reference to Roxanne Martin was made utilizing their unique IP address. I looked around. Only an elderly woman sat a few computers away, she seemed to be minding her own business. I tapped enter and the data flowed out onto a spreadsheet.

One hundred and fifty posts to Facebook in the last month from an address in Longmont Colorado. I found the Facebook page, Roxanne Martin. Her ‘profile’ pic was nothing more than a black square. There were also posts from a NaKeDsKiNGurl on a website called Feminitising.org from the same address.

Interestingly, my script picked up on another IP address, located in downtown Denver that was a frequent visitor to her page. I couldn’t get the exact address, only the zip. As the data continued to spill out it became clear. Wherever Roxanne went on the internet, the mystery person would follow. Exactly the same browsing habits. She was being tracked.

I memorized the address, deleted the script, and set the computer to reformat the hard drive. I know, I shouldn’t make extra work for the library IT staff but I couldn’t let a script like that get into the wrong hands.

As I got into the car, I tried Jamie again. No answer.

The drive over to her house took about thirty minutes. Longmont resides north of Denver, off I-24. The black SUV maintained a healthy distance. Enough of a distance that if I made a quick turn, they would have plenty of time to react. It was no use trying to get away from them anyway; they tracked all of my movements with that freakin’ implant.

Roxanne’s house faced Thompson Park on the corner of 5th and Pratt. I rang the doorbell and looked around. The black SUV had parked a few houses down. I knew they were following me and they knew I knew. Why be secretive about it?

I could hear footsteps as someone approached the door. A shadow crossed the peephole.

“What do you want?” a female voice yelled out from inside.

“Roxanne Martin? I’m Coyle Murray. If you have a moment, I would like to speak with you.”

“About what?”

“I was treated at Somatotech and heard that you were too. Can I…”

“Get out of here now!” she yelled through the door before I could finish. I heard steps and realized she was walking away.

“Wait! Don’t go. I really need to talk to you. I have a freakin’ GPS device implanted in my neck. They put it there. That freakin’ company! They told me all they wanted to do was cure my cancer, but they have done a lot more than that. I’m pretty sure they did the same to you.”

Her footsteps stopped.

“You don’t know anything.” She paused. “They know you are here. For both our sakes, leave now and never come back.” She walked further away. I stretched to look through one of the bay windows. In the shadows stood a thin girl dressed completely in black. Her arms, hands, legs, torso, chest, and even her face were covered. Only her brown eyes shone.

“They are tracking you. Everything you do on the internet. Every single site you have visited; every post you have made. We can help each other!” I yelled back.

“There is nothing we can do. Leave now.” She walked away down the hall and out of sight.

I was tempted to bust down the door until I glanced down the street and saw the black SUV parked a few houses down. One of the men had exited the vehicle and was slowly walking towards the house. His sport coat opened with the wind. Two pistols were holstered on either flank. At that moment the stupidity of me coming here dawned on me, now they are aware that I know who Roxanne Martin is.

I stepped back from the house keeping my eyes fixed on the man. He stopped and pointed to my car. They wanted me to leave. I took a step toward him and his hand reflexively went to the grip of his pistols. I stopped this time and raised my hands.

“Are you going to shoot me here? In front of the park?” I yelled loud enough for the people strolling in the park to hear.

Again, he indicated toward my car. I gave in. It wasn’t worth it. I flipped him off as I got into my car. Juvenile, I know I shouldn’t have, but man it felt good.

I stopped at the café on the way home to grab some dinner. I sat near the window, just a few tables back so I could see outside. Tables turned over around me as people came and went. But the whole place felt empty, almost lifeless without Jamie. I stayed until near closing time, when the SUV finally left. By the time I arrived home, it was 10:30 pm. My dad’s light was off so I slipped into my room and locked the door, content to put off another argument.

Before I slipped into sweet slumber, my phone beeped. A text from a restricted number.

‘Careful Coyle. Betrayal.’

17 Isolation

I woke up early the next morning and stayed in bed, my mind drawn to the only thing I really cared about, Jamie. Those times, all alone with my thoughts were the worst. Not only did I have my new baseline emptiness, but now the added depression of loss sent me down deep into an emotional pit. I let my eyes close as I thought about the good times with her hoping that the mere thought would bring me out of it. Closing my eyes without external distractions seemed to be a trigger as my mind entered another dream.

“I won’t fail. Let me do it now. Look at me! I’m unstoppable.” I motioned down my body with my hands as if asking for admiration. I was standing at the end of a long table in a conference room. Col. Stevens, Dr. Tessel, and another man in a green military uniform sat in large leather executive chairs at the other end. The walls were all windows and I could see down on many of the downtown buildings. We must have been high in Somatotech headquarters.

“We don’t underestimate your abilities, Coyle. The timing must be right though,” said Col. Stevens.

“When will the timing be right?” I asked, dejected.

“That depends on them, when they decide to go too far,” said Col. Stevens.

“What an incredibly stupid plan. The best course of action is preemptive! Let’s take ‘em out.”

“Soldier you are out of line. Stand down.” Col. Stevens yelled and stood up.

“I’m sorry Sir. It won’t happen again.” I sat down. Col. Stevens walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

My mind caught on what Col. Stevens said, ‘Stand down.’ I could feel the anger building in my consciousness remembering my experience in the shooting range. My mind urged to control the dream, to beat the living snot out of Col. Stevens. I focused on my extremities. The dream me fought my consciousness but couldn’t put up much of a fight. I shook off Col. Stevens hand, shoved the chair back, stood up and landed a solid uppercut on his chin before he could react. The strike lifted him into the air and he came careening down onto his back. He lay motionless. His jaw disfigured and my hand bloody I turned to Dr. Tessel. Maybe he wanted some as well.

“Coyle! What are you doing?” Dr. Tessel yelled as he lowered his hand under the table.

I started towards the Snake, relishing the opportunity to teach him a thing or two. A sadistic grin crossed my face and fear crossed his. I lunged for him. Before I could reach him, the other man in the room pulled out a handgun, aimed for my leg, and pulled the trigger. My left leg, just above the knee, burst into a mess of muscle, bone and blood. I crumpled to the floor as the pain surging through my leg made me feel faint. The pain felt real. My mind struggled to release, to escape this dream. The pain grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go.

My assailant came over to me, crouched down and stuck the barrel of the gun into the wound.

“If you ever lash out again, I will personally see to it that you suffer a slow painful…” He pressed down on his gun, separating the bone fragments. Blood pulsed out of the wound. “Death,” He said as I passed out.

I woke, covered in sweat. I threw off the covers and inspected my leg. It still ached.

My dad’s heavy footsteps approached my room. He knocked softly.

“Coyle, are you awake?”

I didn’t respond, wiping off the sweat with my sheet.

“We need to discuss plans.”

“Dad, why didn’t you answer the phone when I called from the training facility?” I asked, trying to buy some time.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy to talk to me for thirty minutes at a set time each day? Give me a break.”

“Please come out Coyle, now.”

“What Dad? What is so damn urgent that we need to talk about it right this very instant?” I violently swung the door open.

I stared at my dad, dumbfounded. His eyes! Dark circles hung low under his eyes. His irises were no longer green but a dark gray. The life had been sucked out of them.

“Dad, what happened to you?”

“What do you mean son?”

“Your eyes, they are, different.”

“Same as they’ve always been. I have the paperwork from the recruiter. I’ll be passing by his office on my way to work so I can drop them off. All I need is your signature; I have filled out the rest.”

“Dad, how many times do I have to tell you? I haven’t made up my mind about it. But now that you and the recruiter are being so dang pushy about it I’m having serious second thoughts.”

“You will join the army. You can sign tomorrow.” He turned to leave.

“You are not listening to me Dad. I need time. You know what? I’ve made up my mind. There is no way in hell I am joining the army. End of story.”

“We will see.” He left me there, utterly speechless.

I hung around the house that morning. I added my experiences at the training facility and the additional ‘dreams’ to my electronic journal. My mind wandered as I wrote about my appointment. What happened to my dad while I was gone? Why the change of heart? Somatotech. It had to be them. Who knows what they did to him while he was under the anesthesia. The ring of my phone startled me. Jamie’s face flashed on the screen. My heart skipped a beat as I tapped answer.

“Jamie?” I said cautiously.

“Coyle, you are an idiot.”

“Okay.” I learned my lesson, no interrupting, just take it.

“I know you think you are just a stupid boy who made a mistake. You’re not. You’re my stupid boyfriend, and I may be your stupid girlfriend for taking you back.”

“You’re taking me back?”

“I may. I need to know you are my boyfriend. If you are, you can’t do that to me ever again.”

“Jamie, I’m sorry, all over again. It was stupid…”

“Shut up Coyle.” I did. “I don’t ever want to hear about it again. Promise me?”

“I promise. I have missed you too. I couldn’t sleep,” I said. “Are you home now?”

“On my way. Can we meet up?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Let’s meet at…”

“Don’t say it out loud, text it,” I warned her.

“Why?” she asked with an air of concern.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

She texted me after we hung up. M2ATC510.

We had established a code so our parents wouldn’t know what we were texting. They approved of our relationship but we, like most teenagers we knew, liked to keep our comings and goings with each other a secret. Now it came in handy in case they were monitoring my communication through my phone. They would figure it out eventually, I’m sure. This one meant meet me, hence M2, at the cafe, she would arrive in 5 minutes and I would get there in 10. M2ATSN = Meet me at the school now. Sometimes we even broke out the roman numerals. CMXV = Call me in 15 minutes. MDSN = my dad said no. Minimally cryptic, but just enough to throw off parental figures who seemed lost on the whole texting thing. I knew the Somatotech goons would follow me but at least our code may keep them guessing for a bit.

I arrived at the café and searched for Jamie. I caught sight of her silky brown hair from behind. I stopped in my tracks. How did I ever betray her? She turned her head and caught sight of me. Tears streamed down her face, but she smiled through them. I was floored. I rushed to her. I knelt down on the floor at the foot of the table.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry, I…”

She didn’t let me say another word. She leaned down and her soft lips made contact with mine. She pulled back for a moment.

“Remember, I don’t want to hear about it. That includes you apologizing all over again.” We held each other for a moment, savoring the joy of forgiveness. At that moment I made an internal pact to never let anything hurt Jamie, whether by me or by anyone else. Whatever it would take, her heart would never hurt as it had. I realized ‘they’ would be along soon so I broke our embrace and sat down at our booth.

“Coyle, what went on at Somatotech?”

“It was a training facility. They trained me in a whole bunch of ways, like physical and mental.”

“Why are they doing all this?”

“I think they want to show me off. Show what the therapy can accomplish. The Snake said I have to demonstrate my ‘abilities’ at some events.”

“When do those start?”

“He didn’t say. But, I kinda feel like a slave to it all.”

“Well, we need to go over everything we know before we move forward. I know there is something going on with your dad, you, and Somatotech" she said forcefully and stared directly into my eyes with determination.

“Jamie, there are things I can’t tell you.”

“Why? What’s wrong Coyle?”

“I just can’t. I’m sorry.” I hesitated, gathering my thoughts. “Well, I know the therapy is now almost complete. At the training facility, I heard Dr. Tessel mention to Mrs. Tolbert that she needed to watch me more carefully to ensure the last phase completes uneventfully. He seemed concerned about an ‘idiosyncratic’ reaction, which has occurred with other patients in the final phase. I would bet that is what happened to Roxanne.”

“Who is Roxanne?”

“Another patient?”

“Another girl?” She cocked her head slightly, raising her eyebrows.

“Another patient. I went to visit her to find out what she knows about this whole mess but she wouldn’t let me in. I caught a glance of her though. She looked like a mummy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean every inch of her skin was covered up, head to toe. She probably has some skin reaction. I read about patients like her, it is a type of photosensitivity.”

“Maybe that is why she didn’t let you in. Or maybe you looked like a weirdo coming to her house out of the blue like that.”

“Yeah, not the smartest. But she didn’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“Be nice, Coyle.”

“What? It’s true. She could have answered one simple question. Anyway, I need to get to her. She knows something. I could sense it, feel it. She hesitated when I told her about the tracking device in my neck. I bet she has one also. I can’t get back there though, not without them knowing.” I indicated toward the window.

“Wait, are they out there?”

“They are my constant companions now.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“No, Jamie. I can’t draw you into this.”

“I was in this the moment you started therapy with them.”

I couldn’t say it out loud. I was sure they were listening. I grabbed a napkin and pulled out the pen from the bill.

THEY THREATENED TO HURT YOU IF I BETRAYED THEM.

She grabbed the pen.

YOU CAN PROTECT ME. I KNOW YOU CAN. I WILL CONTACT HER.

She passed the pen to me.

NO. PLEASE DON’T. I WILL FIND ANOTHER WAY.

“Suit yourself, but I think I can help,” she said aloud. I crumpled the napkin, slipped it into my pocket and looked around. No sight of the goons but their SUV was parked across the street.

“So, have you registered for fall classes?” I said, wanting to speak about something other than the impending mortal threat.

“Trying to change the subject?”

“Yeah, I’m tired of all this.”

“Okay, well then, yes I have. I decided to go for AP Bio, even though Mr. Hicks is teaching it.”

“Eww that will be rough. I have never met a smarter teacher than him, but man, he’s clueless.”

We spent the next hour avoiding anything to do with Somatotech, my treatment, my dad, the army, and all the other crap that had happened in the last months.

“Well, I better go. My dad wants to take me out to dinner this evening and I need to get some things done. He will be happy to hear we are back together. He really likes you Coyle.”

“Your dad is a good guy. Jamie I have to ask you, did he pay for my treatment?”

She looked down, “He did it because he felt it was the only chance. The only way to save you. I’m sorry it has turned into a mixed bag.”

“Jamie, I’m eternally grateful to him. Who knows, I could have died by now without Somatotech’s therapy.”

“Therapy my dad helped develop.”

“So he told you?”

“Yeah, when I got home. I’m sorry I blew up on you at the camp.”

“I blew up Jamie.” I looked around. Jamie glanced at her phone. I knew she needed to go. “I wish we could just stay here forever,” I said. And I meant it. Being in her presence, back in favor, felt like coming home. A feeling I never wanted to relinquish.

“I love you too.” She stood, came over to me, and gently lifted my chin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” she said before landing one.

“Of course. Text or call me before you go to bed, will ya?”

She promised and left the café. I watched her like a hawk to make sure the goons didn’t bother her. She drove off and the SUV stayed put. My nerves soothed.

I drove home, all the while deciding how to proceed. I couldn’t contact Roxanne through email, they tracked her online activities, and probably mine as well. Frankly, they were probably monitoring all of my modes of communication. Jamie was right; I needed someone separated from all of this to contact her. Aedan. I called him.

“Hey, I need a favor. Can you meet me at Miller field in ten minutes?”

Always loyal, he agreed.

“What is so urgent dude?” he said as he walked up to me.

“There is this girl. She got the same treatment as I did and knows about the company.”

“So, why don’t you just ask her?”

“I tried, she wouldn’t share anything. She didn’t even open the door. Also, the goons are following me and basically forced me away from the house. I need you to get in contact with her.”

“Why would I have any better luck?”

“You have women skills and you know it. Throw down some Mallahan charm. But you can’t contact her through email, phone, or through any other electronic device. They are all over those. Also, be careful at her house, I’m sure they have surveillance there as well.”

“Sounds promising,” he said sarcastically.

“You up for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going camping with my bro tonight and tomorrow night, it will have to be this weekend.”

“No worries. Here is her address.” I passed him the same napkin Jamie and I had written on. I had written Roxanne’s address on the other side.

“You owe me dude,” he said as he walked away.

I walked home, knowing that my dad would soon arrive. Sure enough, his car was already in his parking slot.

As I ascended the stairwell to our apartment, I could hear someone retching. The sound was coming from our apartment. I ran to the bathroom. My dad lay supine on the floor convulsing back and forth. He was nearly naked; all he had on was boxer shorts that were hanging low. His mouth bubbled over with vomit and saliva adding to the pool under his head.

“Dad!” I screamed as I fell to my knees beside him.

He didn’t respond. Eyes fixed up in their sockets, he continued to convulse. I turned him over onto his side so he wouldn’t drown on his own vomit. All his symptoms pointed to a seizure.

I protected his head as he continued to shake uncontrollably. There were no pills or bottles on the ground or by the sink. I searched for anything else that could put my dad in such a state, but found nothing. His seizures began to taper off so I lifted him out of the filth and placed him on his bed. He lay there for what seemed an eternity. Gradually, his movements stopped and his eyes began to search the room.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

His eyes continued to scan the room for a few minutes. I ran and retrieved a wet washcloth and wiped the vomit off his face. The cool touch seemed to bring consciousness back.

“Coyle, what happened?” He slowly lifted his head off the pillow with one hand on his forehead.

“I don’t know Dad. I found you down; I think you were having a seizure.”

“It is good to see you Coyle. I’ve been worried about you. How was the training?”

“Dad, what are you talking about? I’ve been home for a couple days.”

My dad scrunched his eyebrows and pursed his lips before responding, “Do you remember your appointment before training began?”

“Of course, Dad. They gassed us all. You passed out and I caught you.”

“I remember. When I woke, Dr. Tessel told me you had a violent outbreak, that you needed more therapy before heading to training. You were mad but I knew you’d never touched Dr. Baldwin. And I told him. He and his staff flipped out on me. He threatened to stop treating you.” Tears welled up in my father’s eyes. “I didn’t have a choice, I, I had to let them…”

“Let them do what?”

“I’m not sure exactly. They put me out again. When I woke, I had this.” He turned onto his side and lifted up his arm. A three-inch scar extended from just under his armpit down along the side of his chest. “Ever since, I’ve been in a haze, a continual stupor. I hardly remember anything since then.”

“It’s Somatotech Dad, they’re freakin’ evil. Do you see that now? They want power, power over us. Power over the vulnerable. This needs to stop!”

“I know…I…” His head rested back onto the pillow and his eyes glazed over. His mouth gaped open.

“Dad? Hey Dad!” I shook his now lifeless arm.

He closed his eyes and then slowly opened them again. His tone returned.

“Coyle, what’s going on?”

“You were telling me about what happened at Somatotech.”

“Ah yes. We are eternally grateful to them.”

I backed up, shocked. “They control you, Dad. Whatever they did here!” I lifted his arm and pressed my finger into his side. A small rectangular object lay under his skin. He recoiled back.

“I fell. Somatotech fixed me up.”

“They sure did dad. They are trying to fix us all.”

“The world will be a better place, indeed. Coyle, I hope you don’t mind. I made a few calls, as did the recruiter. The higher ups at the army see you as the future of the army and have decided to accept your enlistment despite your rudeness and insubordination.”

“Screw them. I didn’t sign up for anything.”

“Yes you did Coyle. I have a copy of the paperwork right here.” He pulled out a folder from his nightstand and handed it to me. A disconcerting grin crossed his lips.

My signature with the juvenile coiled ‘C’ in black ink stretched across the line. How did they get my signature? This wasn’t printed, it looked like real ink.

“I didn’t sign this. How did the goons do it?”

“Coyle, I sat down with you yesterday. We discussed it all and you finally agreed. Don’t you remember? You report next week.”

“Hell no, Dad. I’m not reporting anywhere.”

“You signed up for this Coyle. There is no backing out now. You report next week.”

I grabbed the papers and ripped each one into thirty pieces then spread them on his bed. Taking steps backward, I began to exit the room.

“I’m backing out now Dad.”

I slammed his door and went to my own room, locking it behind me. I waited for his footsteps but none came. Somatotech controls him through whatever they implanted in him. There was hope though; his period of lucidity came after his seizure. Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine, the massive textbook I read while at training, stated that there was normally a post-ictal state, or an after seizure state of confusion, my Dad had experienced the opposite. I made a mental note to ask Dr. Strayer about it when I saw him next. I checked my phone. No texts from Jamie. It was 10:05pm. I texted her.

“Have fun w ur dad? 831.”

No response. I called. It went directly to voicemail. She commonly turned it off while out with her dad. My phone’s battery indicator blinked red so I plugged it in. I rested back on the bed and let myself go. I started slipping into another dream. Slip, it was actually more like driven into. Once I closed my eyes, my mind felt magnetized, like it was being drawn into the dream. I could fight it, push it away, but it was much easier just to accept and enjoy the reverie. Before, when connected, my mind would let the ‘dream me’ dictate my actions. Now, I controlled ‘dream me’ in every dream. Similar to real life though, I couldn’t force anyone else’s hand.

“Take Gilpin to 3rd Ave and then head west one block. Pickup will be at the corner of 3rd and Franklin,” said the same man who had shot me in one of my previous dreams. Spread out before me was a large map of Denver. He had marked a house in red then traced a path to an X. We sat across from each other at the desk in a dormitory type room.

“Where is the backup pickup?” dream me asked. I stifled the urge to control him so I could hear more.

“Here,” said the man in the uniform, pointing to the corner of 5th and Logan.

“That is over a mile away!”

“Is there a problem soldier?” Leaning forward he stared at me.

“No, of course not Col. Jacobs. If need be, I will make it.”

“Good soldier. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a good day.”

Col. Jacobs rolled up the map and stuffed it in a cardboard tube.

Dream me stood to salute Col. Jacobs but I wouldn’t let him raise his arm. Dream me tried to raise it with the other arm but it stayed stiff as a board.

Col. Jacobs raised his own arm in salute.

“Salute me soldier.”

“I can’t. My arm won’t work.”

“Not again,” Col. Jacobs mumbled and pulled out his gun with one hand and a syringe with the other.

Knowing I would feel the pain if I tried anything, I pulled out of the dream.

18 Blood and Air

In the morning, I waited until my dad left for work then went to the café for some breakfast. The goons finally arrived at the café around 9 a.m. so I left. On my way home, a red light caught me at Orchard and University. This light always felt like an eternity. A man stood at the corner behind a telephone pole in a trench coat, sunglasses and a hat. If he was trying to be inconspicuous he sure was doing it conspicuously. He stared directly at me. I lowered my eyes. I always had a problem looking people in the eye, especially strangers in trench coats. An unnerving feeling came over me. I glanced up again. He was still looking at me. Slowly he pointed to the shopping center parking lot. I shook my head nervously and dropped my eyes again. Strange man inviting me into a parking lot; sounds like the start of a great horror flick. The light remained red. I did my best not to look at him, playing with my non-working stereo, turning on the weak air-conditioning. I checked my phone, it wouldn’t turn on. Must not have charged last night, I wondered if I permanently damaged it. I couldn’t resist, I glanced up again. He pulled his sunglasses down just enough for me to see his eyes. Dr. Strayer. The light turned green and I pulled into the parking lot. Dr. Strayer walked into the grocery store and nonchalantly indicated with his hand for me to follow.

I parked the car and jogged to the front entrance. I glanced back. The SUV had just pulled in to the parking lot. Dr. Strayer had walked down one of the center aisles. I followed him.

“Stop there.” His voice emanated from the end of the aisle, just out of view. I stayed near the end about four feet away and pretended to look at the variety of cup-o-noodles. Not that there was much to look at.

“Dr. Strayer what is going on?”

“We only have a moment Coyle. You need to stop trying to contact Roxanne. They are planning something if you do and they may have already carried it out. They haven’t recorded any specifics but there have been multiple mentions of an operation magnet in connection with Roxanne.”

“I only went there once. I haven’t tried again.”

“Someone has and they sure don’t like it.”

Oh crap. Jamie! I told her not too. How did she find out where Roxanne lived? There is no way Aedan could have contacted her already, so it had to be her.

“Jamie may have tried to contact her. Dang it! That Snake threatened to hurt everyone around me if I betrayed him. But I haven’t done anything. Why are they so concerned about Roxanne?”

“That ‘Snake’ is incredibly impulsive. Where is she now?”

“I…I don’t know. I tried to call her.”

“You need to find her before they get to her. Check on your dad as well.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“A talented friend and hacker who goes by the name Angelfire. He’s the one who retrieved your medical chart.”

“What else do you know Dr. Strayer?

“There are certain happenings right now that we can’t discuss. I have some suspicions that need further verification. But we will discuss it all, I promise.”

“Can I speak with him, Angelfire?”

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. At least not right now. He is already skittish about all of this,” said Dr. Strayer as he pretended to read the nutritional values of some refried beans.

“Dr. Strayer, my dad isn’t the same. I think they implanted something in his chest. I came home to him having a seizure yesterday. After it ended, he was himself again and he had told me they sedated him because he spoke out. He has a massive scar under his armpit. His lucid period only lasted a few minutes and then he reverted back to some sort of Somatotech zombie.”

“Sounds like a neurostimulator. But to gain complete control they would have to place the leads within his cerebrum. The seizure probably reset the device so he had a few minutes without its influence.”

“What can we do?”

“We would need a neurosurgeon to take it out. I will look into it.” He glanced down the aisle. “Coyle, I have to go. I left you a prepaid phone behind the Capn’ Crunch boxes in the cereal aisle. It has only one number stored in it, my own prepaid phone. Go get a cart, walk around the store for a few minutes, and grab some things to buy. You don’t want to raise suspicion. I’ll contact you.” I went for the phone down the aisle. “Hey, keep the phone hidden.”

He turned and slipped through the back door to the adjoining warehouse.

I looked around, walked to the cereal aisle and pulled down a few boxes until I found the black flip phone. A flip phone? Obviously, Dr. Strayer was stuck a decade or two back. I snuck the phone into my pocket and carried the cereal to the front to retrieve a cart. I did as Dr. Strayer said and picked up a few additional things. I spent a half an hour walking around until I felt safe to check out.

I dialed Jamie on the phone Dr. Strayer gave me. She didn’t answer. My watch displayed 9:30 a.m. A foreboding sense of dread gripped my chest. Jamie always woke before 7am. I was only a mile from Jamie’s so I drove over to see if she was home. The SUV followed for the first few blocks but they pulled away.

I rang the doorbell and waited. Pastor Anderson looked through the glass window next to the door. Upon seeing me, his eyes widened. “Call them!” he yelled to someone inside the house and then violently threw the door open.

“Coyle, where is Jamie?” he yelled.

“What do you mean? I’m here to see if she is okay. I think something may have happened to her.”

“Come in Coyle, now!”

After I crossed the threshold, he closed the door and locked the deadbolt.

“Jamie told me you had broken up, that you were quite upset about it, and now she is missing. Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

“We did break up, but we got back together. I’m sorry I missed your calls, my phone is broken. How long has she been missing?”

“When was the last time you saw her?” his voice took on an accusing tone.

“We met up at the café just yesterday. Like I said, we got back together.”

Jamie’s mom came storming in, stomping hard on the wood floor. Pastor Anderson held her back. Her arms swung wildly at me. “Where is she Coyle? Tell me now! Is she hurt?”

“I told you. I haven’t seen her.”

“You haven’t seen her? You’re a liar, Coyle. Jamie just left me a message. Listen to this!” She ripped the phone from her pocket and with fumbling fingers dialed her voicemail. She tapped on speakerphone.

“Mom? Mom, I need your help. Coyle has me. He, he won’t let me go. I don’t know where I am. I’m scared mom. Help me.”

“Hey! Get off that phone, damn it!” My voice rang out loud and clear on the recording. There were sounds of scuffling and then click.

“What did you do to her you sadistic punk?” She ran towards me again. Tears smeared her normally perfect makeup. A stream of snot flowed down her trembling upper lip.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t. Please, you gotta believe me!” I backed up towards the door. My hands searched for the lock.

“Coyle, the police were hear last night and they are on their way now. You need to stay here until then so we can sort this out,” Pastor Anderson said calmly.

“No, no, I can’t stay here.” My nerves began to ramp up. I unlocked the deadbolt.

“You are staying right there,” yelled Mrs. Anderson and then ran to a back room.

“Coyle that is your voice on the phone. You know it and I know it. What is going on here?”

“I…I don’t know.” The room began to spin in slow arcs as the confusion set in.

Mrs. Anderson returned with a pistol in hand. Eyes bloodshot and hands trembling she aimed at my chest.

“Sweetie, no. Put that away.” Pastor Anderson stepped in between us. She shuffled to the side maintaining her aim.

“Not until he tells us where our baby is. Tell us now!” Spittle flew from her mouth and onto their immaculate floor.

“I don’t know!” I yelled back.

“Tell me!” she screeched. I could see her finger tightening on the trigger as the Pastor moved in between us again. I jumped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. The shot left the barrel and struck his left shoulder pushing him into me. We tumbled to the ground, crashing into the entry table. I rolled him over as blood began to spread on the table and floor. The Pastor groaned and raised his good arm to his injured shoulder.

“Greg!” She rushed forward to him, pushing me out of the way. “Look what you made me do!”

“I…I didn’t.”

She gingerly lifted up his torn shirt and peered down into the wound.

“Let me help.” She considered me and finally conceded. I ripped off his sleeve and examined the wound. I put my hand on the other side of his shoulder. Blood slipped through my fingers. The bullet had gone clean through. Oh crap. I looked down at my own bloodstained shirt and ripped it off. The bullet had made a small hole in my left chest. Blood oozed slowly from the wound. I prodded my skin carefully. The bullet had imbedded deep within my pectoralis muscle.

“Save him!” she yelled, noticing my inattention. The blood exiting my wound was definitely not life threatening so I returned to the Pastor. I inspected him further prodding his shoulder bones; his clavicle was shattered. His breaths became short and frequent.

“Pastor? Are you okay?”

“I, I can’t breathe.” He turned his head and coughed. A bright spray of blood spread on Mrs. Anderson’s shoes. A slight hiss emanated from his chest, as if air was being sucked in with each breath. I pressed my hands on both wounds and the hiss stopped.

“Get me some plastic wrap, a towel and some super glue, now!”

She ran to the kitchen. I could hear her shuffling through drawers for a few moments and then she returned with the items. Sirens began to ring out, probably a few miles away.

“Put your hands over the wounds,” I said.

When she had replaced my hands, I cut a few pieces of plastic wrap and folded them over into four layered squares. I then smeared a small rim of glue around the edges.

“Okay, take off one of your hands and wipe the blood with the towel.”

She did and I slapped the sticky plastic into place and held it for a moment. It instantly tented in but held in place. We repeated the task for the exit wound.

“This will make sure his collapsed lung wont collapse further. There isn’t anything more we can do. You need to hold pressure. If he gets short of breath again, break the seal. The police will take care of him.” I wrapped my shirt around the back of his shoulder and stood up.

“Wait, you can’t leave! He’s dying. And you still haven’t told me where my daughter is. ” I could hear the sirens, probably only a few blocks away.

“I’m sorry. I will find her and bring her home. I promise.” I opened door and ran to my car and drove away from the direction of the sirens.

A safe distance away I pulled over at a 7-11. I ran into the store ignoring the sign ‘No shirt - No shoes - No service’ and made my way to the bathroom. The bathroom door lock hung broken. In front of the mirror I pressed on either side of the bullet trying to coax it out the wound.

“Hey no shirt no service buddy! Get out of there now!” one of the cashiers stood outside the bathroom.

“Just a minute, please,” I pleaded.

“No, if you don’t come out immediately I will call the police.”

I squeezed harder and the bullet finally plopped out into the sink. The bleeding increased so I grabbed a bunch of paper towels out of the dispenser and held pressure until the bleeding stopped.

“Okay, I’m calling the police!”

“Calm down, I’m coming out.”

I swung the door open bare-chested with blood stained skin.

“Catch.” I tossed the bullet to him. Reflexively he caught it. His eyes widened as he put it all together. He let the bullet slip from his hand as I walked past him.

“Holy sh…wait, are you okay?”

I didn’t have time to respond. I grabbed a car charger and new battery for my phone and dropped the money on the counter. Gratefully, Motorola had standardized their batteries so that they could be found almost anywhere. I glanced out the window before stepping out. The black SUV sat at the traffic light waiting to turn into the parking lot. I ran to my car and whipped to the other entrance. In my rearview mirror I could see them make a U-turn to follow me. I dropped my foot on the accelerator.

I tried Jamie again on the phone Dr. Strayer gave me. No answer. I plugged my phone in, hoping it would turn on with the car’s power and the new battery. The screen lit up and it connected with the cellular service. Beep. Ten voicemails. I assumed all of them were from the Andersons. I placed the dilapidated phone on the passenger seat.

Beep.

My phone received a text. I struggled to get it off the passenger seat and keep my eyes on the road. I swerved to the left, almost hitting the median.

‘Turn yourself in to the police or else.’

I pulled the car over. I stared at the message for a few minutes, my heart thumping against my chest. Finally, I garnered the courage to text back. My hands trembled with each tap.

‘I didn’t do anything wrong. Who are you?’

‘Oh no? What about Dr. Baldwin? Jamie? Mr. Collins? Nurse Kelley?’

‘What do you mean Mr. Collins?’

He or she didn’t text me back immediately. Had something happened to Mr. Collins?

‘We will take you in if you don’t come voluntarily.’

In the rearview mirror, I saw the black SUV pulling up behind me. Crap. What a stupid time to follow Colorado’s strict W82TXT laws.

‘Come and get me.’ I texted and threw down my phone into the passenger seat. Despite Bucky’s lack of power, I still knew I could take them on. They lurched towards me but I turned into an alley before they could respond.

I drove straight to Roxanne’s home seeing no other reason as to why they would take Jamie. Occasionally I could see the SUV behind me but I sped up and weaved through traffic enough so that I was at least a mile in front of them. My driving skills have sure come in handy. I was also dang lucky no cop was patrolling that stretch of I-25. The separation would give me at least a minute to talk to her. This time I would break down that door if I had too. As I turned onto the exit for Longmont the SUV continued on I-25. What were they doing? I parked at few blocks away from her house and sprinted to the door. My fists slammed hard on the door shaking it at its hinges.

“Roxanne! Come to the door now!” I yelled.

No answer.

The door was no match for my kick and flew in easily. All of the lights were off and thick curtains covered all the windows.

“Roxanne?” No one answered. I ran through each room of the first floor but didn’t find a soul. I bolted up the stairs and began in the closest bedroom in the hallway. I heard a rustle in an adjoining room. The sound came from a closet. I threw it open.

“They’re back. They’re back. They never go away. They, they, never go.” Roxanne sat holding her legs close to her body. She rocked back and forth and stared straight ahead.

“Roxanne, what’s the matter?”

She continued to rock.

“Where is Jamie? Did she come to you? Answer me, now!” I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, I shook her hard. She didn’t hesitate to retaliate. She got on her feet before I could react. Her kick easily swept me off my feet sending me reeling. Still in the air she sneaked in three punches to my chest and face.

“Uhggg.” My body hit the ground hard as I came down.

“Never touch me again or I will kill you.” She sank back down into the closet.

“I’m sorry. I just need to know. What happened to Jamie?” I said, catching my breath. A small laceration at my cheekbone began to bleed.

“You shouldn’t have sent her here. They were watching and waiting. After the first knock they converged on her. She didn’t have time to scream before collapsing. She is gone.”

“Where did they take her?” I said staring up at her from the floor.

“Why in the hell would you send her here? You are much stupider than the Cooks have made you seem!”

“First off, I didn’t send her here. Second, who are these Cooks?”

“You really know nothing do you? The Cooks are the scientists who made you who you are. They cooked you, created you, and grew you in their lab.”

“What do you mean? They cured my cancer.”

“Sure, they cured Coyle’s cancer.”

BAM! BAM!

A flash bang and smoke grenade rattled the house from below.

“Get out now, through the hallway window in the back!”

“What about you?”

She winked and returned to her closet. She positioned herself in the fetal position and started rocking back and forth.

Smoke began to rise from through the floorboards and a commotion grew from below.

“Go!” she yelled.

I entered the hallway. Light steps emanated from the stairs. I first saw their lasers ripping through the smoke. I turned and ran towards the end of the hallway. When I reached the end I grasped the window and tugged hard. The window flew up colliding with the frame above and shattering into thousands of pieces. The glass showered down on my arms cutting them in a linear lattice of thin red.

“Coyle Murray, this is the police. Put your hands behind your head now!”

The lasers converged on me. The pinpoint heat irritated the skin of my back. I peered into the darkness below.

“Don’t move Coyle.” Their steps approached.

Throwing caution out the window, literally, I dove out flipping in the air to get my feet below me. The impact wasn’t as I expected. Cool water shot up around me. The chlorinated water made the thousands of cuts scream to attention. Underwater, I flipped around and looked up towards the window. Three men in SWAT gear aimed their weapons down on the pool. I hugged the bottom of the pool and swam to the far edge. I burst out of the water just as the lights locked in on my position.

“Subject has exited the pool on the eastern side. He’s headed for the fence.”

The fence proved no obstacle; with a simple hop, I cleared it easily. I cut to the south along the wooden fence, grateful for the cover. I cleared a few more fences and bolted to my car. The blinking lights of the police cars illuminated the trees a few blocks away. I jumped in my car and drove through Boulder rather than risk the highway. I needed to get her back. I would bust down the freakin’ walls at Somatotech if I had too.

19 Two

“Dr. Strayer! They took her! I’m headed over to Somatotech now. Can you help me?” I yelled into the phone on my way back to Denver.

“Slow down Coyle. Do not go there. Don’t you understand, Coyle? You would walk into an ambush. They might even open the front door for you.”

“Well, what are we going to do? We need to get her out now!”

“Coyle, I’m sorry, we can’t do that yet. We need more information. Meet me at the pizza place on Alameda and Downing in twenty minutes. I’ll contact Angelfire and see what he can find out. Stay on smaller streets. If you can you might want to switch cars, the police are probably looking for your clunker.”

“Switch cars?”

“Yes, Coyle, I mean steal a car. Nothing fancy, try an older Civic or Corolla.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Look it up. You will figure it out. See you in twenty.”

I pulled over and searched ‘How to hotwire a car’ on my phone, fully knowing Somatotech was probably monitoring my searches. I didn’t care; this wasn’t to thwart them but the police. A few step-by-step videos pulled up. I watched each one realizing why Dr. Strayer encouraged I look for an older car. A fuel shut off circuit had been implemented in most new cars.

I drove around Lakewood, which borders Denver on the west side, looking for an ideal candidate. The blocks were all the same with most cars parked in a driveway or garage. On the third block I canvassed I found an older tan Toyota Camry parked under a large tree in front of an unlit house. I parked my own car three blocks away. Out of the trunk I grabbed a screwdriver, pocketknife, flashlight and my automotive gloves.

The streetlights illuminated the corners but not down the streets so I easily slipped down the block towards the target.

“Woof woof!” A dog from the next door caught my scent. I needed to hurry.

I approached the car from behind and glanced to see if I could see any alarm lights. No lights. I gently lifted up on the driver’s door handle. Click. What amazing freakin’ luck. Unlocked with no alarm. A foul smell emanated out of the car when I opened the door. I put one foot in onto the floor of the car and instantly regretted it. My shoe soaked up the mystery fluid. I turned on my flashlight. Urine, vomit, feces, and other bodily fluids drenched the car. Needles pointed precariously out of the ashtray. A condom on the brake shaft made me recoil and nearly lose my dinner. I slammed the door and sprinted back to my own car savoring the relatively clean air within.

“Screw it,” I said out loud as I started my car. I didn’t have time to look for another one anyway. I had been here way to long. Why hadn’t I seen the SUV? Surely I had given them ample time to catch up to me.

I found the pizza joint and pulled into the parking lot. It had been exactly twenty minutes. The pizzeria had all glass front windows. Only two employees and a woman were inside. The woman sat at the close table eating a slice of pepperoni while texting on her phone. Dr. Strayer wasn’t one to be tardy. He never kept us waiting at our appointments, in fact often he would be waiting for us. My heart started to rev up as my nervousness increased. I couldn’t stay here much longer. Three minutes passed.

I didn’t know Dr. Strayer’s address but I had his telephone number. After a minute of searching with his name, age, telephone number, and title, Google spat out his address. I screeched out of the parking lot.

His house was only a mile away, maybe he was planning on walking? I drove along the path I assumed he would take but didn’t see him. I parked near the corner of East 3rd Avenue and High Street South and made my way over to Gilpin Street one block to the west. Dr. Strayer lived in a mature and expensive neighborhood in Denver called Country Club, aptly named considering its proximity to the Denver Country Club.

I approached Dr. Strayer’s house from the south staying close to the brick wall that lined his yard, multiple small trees ran along the sidewalk hiding me. I made it to his driveway and could see lights were on in the second floor rooms. A light rain had begun and I was anxious to get inside. I knew I had only a few minutes before ‘they’ would arrive as they had done before. I have been timing them; it typically takes them between five to ten minutes depending on the location. When I go to Jamie’s house, they arrived in about ten minutes and when I went to Roxanne’s it was only two. Dr. Strayer is a serious threat to their organization so I expect them any minute.

I peered out around the street from behind a tree and saw no one. In two strides, I was at his front door. I rang the doorbell and nervously waited. I couldn’t hear anything inside. The rain started to pick up covering most sounds I would have been able to hear anyway. I glanced up at the window and saw a shadow cross the room. I rang again hoping he would hear me then. Nothing. Was that Dr. Strayer? I contemplated throwing a small rock at his window. Suddenly I heard some commotion upstairs, like a door forced opened. Someone yelled and then there was the distinct sound of gunfire. Four shots. Instinctively, I kicked the door open and sprinted to where I thought I heard the sound. The bedroom door was on the floor, obviously forced off the hinges. A man kneeled with his torso draped over the side of the bed with his hands handcuffed behind him. His white bathrobe was stained with four bleeding holes in his back. I came closer around the side of the bed and instantly recognized the man. Dr. Strayer.

“Dr. Strayer! Are you okay?” I yelled at him, not believing what I was seeing. No response. I slowly turned him over and he started coughing up blood. His nose was disfigured and bleeding. His eyes opened and he instantly looked confused and panicked. His eyes searched my face.

“Coyle…why?”

“What do you mean, why? We need to get you to the hospital.” I took out my phone.

“Why did you do this?”

I hesitated, phone in hand. “What do you mean? I didn’t, I would never! I was outside, heard the shots, and came in. What can I do to save you?” Tears welled, and then streamed down my face.

He took two deep breaths and then another panicked look came over his face.

“They did it, oh my, they did it…” He started to trail off; his breathing became more rapid.

“They did what? Dr. Strayer, please stay with me. I need you!” My tears dropped on his face as I held him closer.

“You... there are two," he said as he coughed up a large blood clot which slowly slipped down the side of his face leaving a crimson trail. He stopped breathing.

I quickly checked his pulse. His heart had stopped as well. I started chest compressions but blood bubbled up out of the bullet holes in his chest as I pushed, so I stopped. His skin cooled under my blood-drenched hands.

“Dr. Strayer! Please oh please don’t do this!” I held him tight against me. He was only the person with knowledge of exactly what I had gone through and the only one with the power to do anything about it. I pressed on his neck again. He was gone. Dead. Why was he shocked to see me? What did it mean, ‘You, there are two.’?

A cool breeze from the open window tickled my skin. The hair on my neck stood on end. I laid Dr. Strayer's body down on the bed and pulled the sheet over him. I stared at his still profile for a moment. A shuffle outside drew me away. I walked over to the window and peered out into the darkness.

Below, standing on the driveway, was a man dressed in all black with an M16 slung over his shoulder. His eyes were fixed on the window. When our eyes met, a bolt of lightning flashed through my mind. I dropped to my knees reflexively. His eyes were my eyes. A similar reaction affected him and he stepped back a few steps but stayed on his feet. At that instant, I knew what he meant. 'You, there are two'. He was me. The Bio-imprint number was actually my cloning fitness or an indicator of how easy it would be to clone me. They had done it and somehow convinced my clone to kill Dr. Strayer. I was nauseated and stooped over to vomit. The vile acidic fluid flowed freely on to Dr. Strayer's wood floor. For a moment, I kept my eyes fixed on the multicolor mess.

"Beta target neutralized." I heard from outside. It was my voice, clear and confident.

I shot up, stared him down and yelled. "Why?"

He stood there, not moving a muscle, staring me down.

"I have alpha target in my sight, should I engage?" He spoke into his earpiece and then nodded.

After a moment, he held his hand up towards me in the shape of a gun and pulled the trigger. He held his hand there for a lingering moment and smirked. Hearing something in his ear, he turned and ran toward the street.

"Do you even know who you are?" I yelled at him.

He stopped and turned slightly towards me. He spoke, just audible. "I’m the perfect soldier," then ran out of sight.

I slumped down on Dr. Strayer’s floor, my body and mind drained. I wanted this all to be a gruesome nightmare, something I could wake up from, something that would not change everything. However, I knew at that moment I could never go home again. My life had once again changed inexorably, not by my bidding but by Somatotech’s hand. Why had ‘the other me’ not killed or at least captured me? What are they waiting for?

At that moment, an idea dawned on me. Maybe they knew I would be coming here and this was all an elaborate plot to set me up. I looked around the room. My prints are all over the crime scene. The vomit spread on the floor contained my DNA and Dr. Strayer’s blood is on my hands and shoes. The only stretch would be tying me to the gun, which I never touched. Are my other’s prints the same as mine? It wouldn’t take long to conjure up a presumed motive. Maybe they would not even need to establish a motive. The police could present me as a crazed murderer and kidnapper, especially considering my ‘violent outbreaks’ which are conveniently documented on Somatotech’s records. Somatotech would probably release the video of me pushing Dr. Baldwin as well. This would obviously prove to be indisputable and extremely incriminating evidence. Then it would be all over. Colorado had swung heavily to the right the past few election cycles and in turn recently brought back the death penalty. I would definitely be a candidate, having apparently killed two physicians.

Sirens rang in the distance. I shot up and quickly exited his room. I glanced down the hallway from his room and noticed a light on in a room at the end of the hallway. Two long strides and I entered. It was his home office. On his desk was a laptop with the screen still on. A document was open in Microsoft Word titled, ‘Somatotech and the U.S Army’. I scanned through the first few paragraphs. It read like an exposé and detailed out Somatotech’s backdoor dealings with the United States Army and the results of my therapy. The police sirens grew louder. I was about to grab the computer when I noticed my hands. They were caked in blood, some of it still fresh. I ran to the bathroom in the hall and scrubbed feverishly. Dr. Strayer’s blood seemed to stick like dried paint. Returning to the office, I shut the computer and took it with me. I also grabbed Dr. Strayer’s cell phone, which was plugged into the charger on his desk.

I knew going out the front door would be a mistake as I could hear the police pulling into the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and quietly opened the back door. Gratefully, the rain had picked up again, muffling my escape. I tucked the computer and phone under my shirt and hopped over the backyard fence to the neighbor’s yard hoping they did not have a dog. My luck for once held out, no dog and no lights were on in the house. I was able to slip over their fence and onto Franklin Street, one block west of Gilpin. I circled back to my car, all the time worried the police had seen it. I peered around a large oak tree and saw no one near my car so I sprinted to it and got in. Gratefully, the rain had washed off most Dr. Strayer’s blood from my shoes so I would not track it into my car.

I didn’t know where to go; all I knew was that I needed to get out of the Country Club neighborhood. I pulled out and drove to the Cherry Creek Mall. The parking garage would at least provide a place to hide my car. I thought about where I could go. My dad would have too many questions if I went home. Unfortunately, I couldn't trust him. I had no doubt he would contact Somatotech. The police and Somatotech were probably actively watching Jamie and Roxanne’s houses.

I needed to get underground; somewhere they would not find me. This was near impossible with the tracking device inconveniently implanted in my neck. The only way to stay untraceable was by being underground, literally. I couldn’t stay at the mall, it would close soon and security guards patrol the garage at night. Besides, I was a sitting duck here being that there was only one exit.

I remembered the business card Mr. Sanchez had given me. I desperately needed help. I pulled out my phone to dial but stopped, realizing Somatotech had probably bugged my phone. I used Dr. Strayer’s instead hoping Somatotech hadn’t gotten to his as well.

It was then 10:30 pm, I doubted Mr. Sanchez would answer. The phone only rang once.

“Manuel Protective Services.”

“Mr. Sanchez?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“My name is Coyle Murray. I met you a few weeks ago at the restaurant on Santa Fe Ave.”

“Yes, I remember you. Are you ready for my protection?”

“I think so, something’s happened and I could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the Cherry Creek Mall parking garage. They know where I am. They always know where I’m.”

“Why is that?”

I hesitated. How much information I should give to a man I met once in a shady restaurant off Santa Fe Ave? I really had no other option. My circumstances necessitated trusting someone outside of the situation.

“I have a GPS device implanted in my neck. They track my every move.”

“Interesting.” He paused to think. “Let me contact some of my sources. I will call you back in exactly fifteen minutes. Move around the garage; do not stay in one place. Keep an eye out and let me know immediately if you see anyone or anything suspicious.”

“Thank you.”

Click. He was gone. I glanced around the garage. Unoccupied parked cars sat near the elevator in the northwest corner. Otherwise, the garage was eerily empty. The silence was disconcerting. I turned on the radio to break the silence and then quickly turned it back off realizing how poor of an idea that was. I needed to be keenly aware of my surroundings. A few minutes passed without even a single sound. All of the stores had closed over an hour ago so I didn’t expect to see or hear anyone.

A single car pulled into the first floor and my heart rate started to pick up. I turned on my car, went up to the top floor, and parked next to a large Chevy Suburban. The windows were tinted but I could see that it was empty. I listened intently for the mystery car. It had stopped, probably one floor below me. The engine was still running. It then began moving again, slowly, deliberately, as if they were looking for something, or really someone. They came closer and closer so I decided to ditch my car and sprint for the stairs. I pulled out my phone to call Mr. Sanchez as I ran, but my phone rang before I could dial.

“Hey! Someone is here! They’re after me.”

“I’m on my way. Meet me in the southwest staircase in two minutes. Can you make it undetected?”

I peered out from the stairwell and didn’t see the vehicle.

“I’ll try.”

The southwest stairs were at least one hundred yards away if I ran directly to them. I could sprint up one more level away from the direction of the car but that would increase the distance by at least another hundred yards. The car was approaching more rapidly now. I chose to go up. As I stepped out of the stairwell, I saw the black SUV round the corner. They caught sight of me and sped up. I sprinted for about fifty yards and then realized my ridiculously stupid tactical error. The SUV would easily catch me and an easier evasion would be to descend the stairs and sprint on another level. I turned on my heels and lunged toward the stairwell. It was too late; the SUV had already wedged itself between the stairs and me. I stood frozen as it made it within ten yards of me. They stopped the vehicle and three men dressed in full SWAT gear swiftly exited with what appeared to be semiautomatic rifles.

“Get down! Face down with your hands above your head. Now!”

There was no use fighting them. I lay down on the cool concrete and closed my eyes. It was over. Two of the men approached me while one stayed a few paces back, gun aimed squarely at my head. One of them jammed his foot on the back of my neck. I gagged and struggled to turn my head. He pressed harder. The other one grabbed my arms and bound them with multiple heavy-duty zip ties. I knew I could break them, but what would be the use. They would shoot me before I could even get to my feet to take them out.

Apparently, a police car had entered the parking garage. I could hear the car speed up from behind, sirens blaring. The men, obviously startled, jumped up. One of them attempted to drag me by my shoulders towards their vehicle. I forcefully rolled over onto my back and managed to kick him in the abdomen with both of my feet. He flew back, violently landing on his upper back and rolling over his head.

“Leave him!” A man inside the vehicle yelled. “The police will get him.”

The other two men lifted the incapacitated man into the SUV and sped off, almost running me over as they turned around. I could hear as they slowed down on the second floor, likely to reduce suspicion as they passed the police. The car coming up the parking garage didn’t slow. Why didn’t the police stop them?

I struggled to get to my feet. The stairwell stood only twenty yards ahead of me. I ran as fast as I could with my hands tied as the police car turned the corner a couple hundred yards away. I made it to the stairwell just as I heard the loudspeaker from the vehicle.

“Coyle, stop! It’s me, Manuel.”

I stopped and stared at the approaching blue and white striped police car in frank disbelief. I wasn’t sure what to do. Either Manuel was a police officer and I was giving myself up willfully or he had no apparent regard for the law. Impersonating a police officer carried a minimum sentence of 2 years in jail and a $5000 fine.

He slowed and pulled the car next to me. I could see his police uniform as he exited the vehicle. I was tempted to book it before he walked around the hood of the car.

“Coyle, don’t worry. They are gone, and I doubt they will come back.”

He took out some wire clippers from his back pocket and made quick work of the zip ties.

“Get in.” He opened the front passenger side door.

I hesitated.

“They are not the only people looking for you now? Are the police after you as well?” He walked to the side of the car and peeled off the magnetic ‘POLICE’ sign from the side.

“I’m not the police. Now, get in the car.”

For some reason stepping into this car felt right. I wanted to trust in someone that could actually help me. Mr. Sanchez had demonstrated that. I had lost the only people who had fought back with me. Dr. Strayer knew what had happened to me even better than I had.

He quickly peeled off the other magnets and the lights from the top of the car and threw them in the trunk, while I climbed in the front seat. He returned from the trunk with a small cardboard box.

“Open this and put it on.” He tossed me the small cardboard box and it landed in my lap. Inside I found a small gray plastic box attached to small strap.

“Strap it around your leg or arm. It is a GPS jammer; it generates power to jam the satellite driven radio signal from your movements. The more you move the greater energy it will have to disrupt the signal.”

I had heard of such devices but had no way of getting my lower class suburban hands on one. In fact, one of the books Somatotech had me read was on military technology. GPS jamming devices were banned in the United States. Congress acted swiftly after a high-powered commercial jammer spoofed a drone on a training mission. The device had the ability to not only jam the signal but also send incorrect coordinates and time stamps; thus confusing the receiving GPS in the drone. Despite the operator’s efforts, it crashed in a residential area outside Albuquerque, New Mexico killing three people.

“I have another one for your car. It plugs directly into your cigarette lighter,” he said as he removed the stolen police uniform. “But we have no time to stop at your car. I have no doubt the police will be here soon. I will have one of my employees take care of it.”

“What do we do now?”

“We leave this place and get to somewhere safe. While we go I need you to tell me who is following you, and why. My protection will be much more effective if I know the particulars.” He pulled the car around and started down the parking garage.

I went through the story of my last year detail by detail, omitting the facts about the ‘other me’. Even I hadn’t really grasped that one. I didn’t want him to think I was a loony. It took me about ten minutes to recite it all. By the time I had finished I realized we were on I-25 traveling south towards Castle Rock.

“Sounds like they provided a service for you. Nevertheless, they also committed an injustice.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Now, they desire your cooperation even though you know some of their dark secrets, including the murder of your doctor and the possible kidnapping of your girlfriend.”

Hearing the words ‘murder of your doctor’ hit me hard. He was my doctor. Dr. Strayer had taken the Hippocratic Oath to a new level in helping me. A modern version in Harrisons contained the following line, “I will remember that I remain a member of society with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.” In my mind, he had embodied this, the ultimate Doctor. He had demonstrated unwavering dedication to his patient, me. Tears welled up in my eyes as the sinking feeling of loss weighed heavy on my heart. At that moment, I felt grateful to have another person on my side.

“Thank you for helping me. Where are we going?” I said, holding back the tears.

“I have a safe house near Sedalia; no one will bother you there.”

“Can I call my friend Aedan? I need to find Jamie.”

His countenance instantly changed in response to my inquiry. Eyes narrowed, he responded, “Absolutely not. We will establish contact with friends and your dad once we gather more information. In fact turn off your phone and take the battery out.” I did as he asked and ripped off the duct tape, letting my new battery fall to the floor.

“Calling my dad wouldn’t help anything anyway.”

His phone rang. He answered it hastily.

“¿Qué pasa?” He paused to listen for a few moments. “No te muevas. Llegaré en un momentito.” He slammed down the phone. “¡Mierda!

He looked stressed.

“What’s a matter?” I asked cautiously.

He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze fixed ahead of him on the road. I kept quiet for the rest of the thirty-minute drive to Sedalia, as it was quite evident he now preferred to drive in silence.

Sedalia is a small town south of Denver, not far from Castle Rock where the Somatotech Training Facilities are located. As we started out of town, he abruptly pulled the car on the side of the road.

“Put this on over your head.” He pulled a black fabric sack from the back seat and threw it on my lap.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I will leave you here. Coyle, for this house to be completely hidden from society, only a few people can know of its location, let alone its existence.”

“I understand.” Inside I was freaking out. I had placed my trust in this man and now I headed to a hidden location, somewhere no one would find me.

I pulled the bag over my head and the world went dark. He drove for another ten to fifteen minutes. It was an odd sensation feeling tugs in all directions as he turned multiple corners. He continued to drive up a windy road, up into the foothills, I could tell by the slope of the car. Finally, he pulled off the bag and we came upon a large compound with a tall iron gate. Mr. Sanchez pressed a combination on a console near the entrance. I heard a beep and the gate slid open. I instantly felt under surveillance. Scanning the large front yard, I spotted the reflection of two cameras on the perimeter walls and at least three in the few trees that dotted the property. As we arrived at the hacienda-style home, I noticed a small tower on the roof of the northeast corner. The muzzle of a rifle peeked out of a small window pointed towards the front lawn. Manuel abruptly stopped the car in front of the house.

"This will be your home for at least a few days. Get out."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"No, get out. I have to go."

His tone worried me. Reluctantly, I stepped out. He sped off kicking up dust and rocks behind him.

"Hey! Wait! What about my car?" I yelled after him. My car had Dr. Strayer’s computer and with it the exposé.

He continued out the gate and from my field of view.

I stood there, staring out into the dark towards the gate. I slowly turned back towards the house. Illuminating the hacienda were two streetlights positioned at either side of the small roundabout out front. No lights were on inside the house that I could see.

A high-pitched creek of a door sounded behind me and I swung around, ready to pounce. A petite elderly woman stood near the door gesturing for me to come towards the home.

"Coyle Murray. Manuel told me to expect you. Welcome to my home. Please come in, it is late." She turned, motioning me to follow with her hand.

I followed her inside and she led me down a long narrow hallway to a spacious kitchen. I sat at one of the bar stools gazing at the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, the stainless steel appliances, and large countertop island.

“Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t, but I don’t want to be trouble.”

“No trouble, I’ll make you some eggs, okay?”

“Thank you. Do you mind if I ask your name?”

“Not at all, I’m Doña Maria. This is my home.”

“Is Manuel your son?”

“No, Manuel is of no relation. I take care of the people he delivers, no questions asked.”

“Are there others here? I saw a gun in the small tower outside.”

“You are awfully observant, Coyle. Yes, there are others. My home is always guarded. Manuel delivers only those who require extreme protection. It is quite a shame you require such protection, but please know that you are safe here.”

She prepared huevos rancheros and heated some tortillas she had prepared earlier.

“Thank you.” I said as I dug into the food. They were easily the most delicious eggs I had ever eaten.

She stayed in the kitchen, watching me eat. Doña Maria’s eyes weighed heavy in their sockets as if they had seen too much.

“Can I call my friend?”

“No Coyle, I’m sorry. We must keep this house secret for it to be safe. I’m sure Manuel will contact him.”

“Can I trust Manuel?”

“If Manuel has accepted the job and has been paid, he will be the most trustworthy person in your life.”

“I haven’t paid anyone.” Nor did I have the funds to pay anyway.

“Someone must have, or he wouldn’t have picked you up.” She glanced at the clock. “Time for bed, Coyle.”

“Thank you Doña. It has been awhile since I had a home-cooked meal.”

“I’m glad to be of service. Does your mother not cook?” she said, picking up the plate.

“Oh, she did. She was an excellent cook and so was my dad.”

“Was?”

“My mom died when I was thirteen and my dad hasn’t been the same ever since. We eat frozen meals or go out for food. They all taste bland compared to those eggs,” I said, licking my lips.

“I’m sorry Coyle. I lost my parents when I was young. I had to take care of my sisters so I became the cook of the family. Cooking kept my heart in the right place, with my family. You should try it.”

“Will you teach me?”

She chuckled. “That’s a first! No one I have protected has ever requested cooking lessons. I may be able to show you how to make those eggs you just ate.”

“I’ll take it,” I said, grabbed my glass and walked over to the oversized sink.

I helped clean the dishes with this grandmother-like figure and then she led me down the long poorly lit hallway to a large metal door. The door was adorned with two deadbolts. She used two separate keys and the metal door swung open. The bedroom had a simple bed, chair and closet. A small bathroom was attached to the back corner.

“Coyle, all the toiletries you will need are in the bathroom. Extra sheets and pillows are in the closet.”

“Thank you. What is the plan for tomorrow?”

“Coyle, I do not make the plans. I only protect.”

“Manuel makes the plans?”

“Of course Coyle,” she said as she fluffed up the down pillow. She then indicated with her wrinkled finger to a loud speaker hanging from the corner. “If you hear the siren, lock the door, move the bed to the side, and crawl through the small door in the floor. When inside, lock that door as well and proceed to the cellar at the end of the tunnel. Someone will be there to protect you.”

“Has anyone ever broken into this place?”

“No, not once. But we are prepared if it does happen. Good night Coyle.”

After showering, I lay in bed. I wondered what they had done with Jamie. If they hurt her…I couldn’t finish the thought. The stress of the day weighed on me. I pulled up the covers and rested my eyelids.

I shot up, eyes wide. A thought came to me as if it had been injected deep into my brain matter. They haven’t been dreams. They were much more. They were direct connections to my other. I gained access to his mind. Somehow I could feel what he felt and had influence over him. Unfortunately, I wasn’t privy to his thoughts. My other was Subject 2. No wonder the Colonel seemed enamored with him; my other was the soldier.

I rested back and concentrated on the connection. I needed information, and this may be my ticket. The connection was easy to make, my mind slipped into his body.

“When will we take him?” he asked a man in a uniform. The man stood at least six feet tall. His broad nose distracted from his shallow blue eyes. He wore his uniform well.

“When we find him. We assumed the police would pick him up. Our jail insiders would have done the job and made it look like he attacked a police officer.”

“I could have taken him, why the order to stand down?”

“And risk having you both caught, absolutely not. You are lucky we even let you out of here.”

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you for letting me participate in the mission. Now, how are you going to find him?”

“The police imposter. Coyle must have made contact with him sometime before today. We will analyze Coyle’s movements, find any that are out of the ordinary, and target those locations.”

“What should I do?”

“Once we have compiled the locations you will perform the analysis and give us probabilities.”

“Right.” My other went for a glass of water in front of him.

It was time to mess with him. As he brought the glass to his mouth, I jerked his arm. Cold water washed over his face as if someone threw it in his face.

“Coyle, what the hell?”

“I don’t know what happened.”

I jerked his arm again causing the glass to leave his hand and crash against the wall.

“Coyle! Control yourself!” The man in the uniform indicated.

“I can’t. I don’t know what is happening.” My other panicked.

For good measure, I forced his hands and slapped my other’s face over and over. Back and forth his head bucked.

“Dang it Coyle.” The man took out a syringe, struggled with my other’s arm, and eventually stuck the needle deep into his deltoid. He pushed the plunger down with a single fluid motion.

After a minute or so, my other slumped over and my connection ended.

Dang I shouldn’t have done that. Could they have slipped some information about Jamie had I not messed with him? I tried to make the connection again but I kept hitting a mental wall. Why did they use my name when addressing him? Why not give him a different name? Lying there, my mind focused on what Roxanne had said, “They cured Coyle’s cancer.”

20 Indentured Servitude

I woke to a slight knock on the door followed by a large clank of the unlocking of the locks.

“Good morning Coyle. Please shower and get dressed,” said Manuel as he stepped in the room.

“Any news?”

“We will discuss everything over breakfast. Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

After showering and putting on the clothes they had provided for me, I entered the kitchen. Seated around the blue tiled island were Manuel and four other men. The Doña mixed a skillet of eggs at the stove.

“Come, sit, Coyle. Let’s go over the conditions of your protection.” He pulled out a chair next to him. “Your benefactor has paid for a week of intensive protection. After that period has ended, I will deliver you back to where I picked you up. Or, if you want continued protection, you can aid us in our other missions.”

“Wait, who is my benefactor? And what are these other missions?”

“The late Dr. Strayer.” He popped a grape into his mouth.

“Dr. Strayer? How? I mean how did he find out about you?”

“There is a lot you do not know about him. He had other ‘careers’ before becoming a doctor. We became acquaintances during one of his operations.”

“Operations?” I said as Doña Maria placed a plate of hot food in front of me. I smiled at her and she responded with a wink and raised eyebrows.

“The good doctor led some of the largest corporate robberies in the nineties. Before I wised up, I took part in many of them. He was the mastermind, a genius really. His plans were so detailed and exact only experts could work with him.” Manuel smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sad to see him go, especially after changing his life for the better.”

“Is that how he knows that guy Angelfire? Through his operations?”

“How do you know of Angelfire?”

“Dr. Strayer mentioned him. He’s the one who hacked my medical chart and predicted that something was going to happen to my girlf…” I couldn’t finish. A ball formed in my throat.

“If he mentioned Angelfire to you he wants you to contact him. He would never mention his name to anyone otherwise.”

“Manuel, I need help getting my girlfriend back. I will do whatever you want.”

“I cannot help you get her back. But I can gather information, possibly weapons and contact Angelfire, but again only if you help me with some operations.”

“I thought you said you wised up, kinda seems to me you are still in the thick of things.” The men dropped their forks with a clank. All eyes turned to me. One of the men stood up and moved closer to me.

“It’s okay, sit down.” He pushed the man back. “Coyle, I have. We protect the innocent now. Rather than steal, we collect. Rather than kill, we protect. So, yes I have wised up.”

“I’m sorry Manuel, I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken. But Coyle, know that these men, my men, are quick to take offense. Be careful.”

“Duly noted. I’m sorry,” I said to all of them. All of the men raised their glasses and gave a slight nod. Everyone except the man who stood up earlier. He stared at me coolly and took a sip from his glass.

“If you are up for it, we have an operation today. If you participate, maybe I can expedite the process.”

“I’m in.”

“A woman named Mrs. Jefferson contacted us for assistance. One of her former boyfriends has been harassing her at work. She has requested that we intervene so he will no longer have the desire.”

“How do we intervene?”

“Hopefully shear intimidation will suffice, if not, a little physical persuasion usually does the trick.”

“So what, we flex our muscles, hope he backs down, but if he doesn’t we beat the crap out of him?” I asked nervously.

“Calm down Coyle. You will see. Follow my lead.”

I finished my breakfast and brought my plate over to the sink.

“Thank you Doña. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome, Coyle. Be careful out there. Don’t lose your opportunity to free your girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?” I said as she turned on the faucet.

“Do everything Manuel says, but be careful,” she whispered.

“Time to go Coyle,” yelled Manuel from the foyer.

He placed the sac over my head again as we pulled out of the compound. With my bearings improved, I memorized the time between each left and right turn. I didn’t need to see the turns, they were now all stored in my head. He removed it when we passed Sedalia.

“Why are your other men not coming?”

“We can handle it. Besides, there are many in Denver who need protection. I sent Tigre to gather information about your girlfriend.”

“Thank you, Manuel.”

“Don’t thank me until this job is done.” We arrived at a US Bank and parked the car in the far corner. “Coyle, tell me what you see.”

“A bank, a few cars, people coming in and out. There are a few trees.”

“When we intervene, we search for unsurveilled areas. There are two cameras in this parking lot. One, near the ATM. The other is on the main building looking over the majority of the parking lot, except the southwest corner, where we are. This is where we stop the harasser.”

“When is he coming?”

“Mrs. Jefferson said he comes on Tuesdays around noon.” He pulled out a picture and showed me. A man and a woman were standing in front of a row of Harley-Davidson motorcycles. The man looked like a giant, at least two feet taller than she. His muscles had their own freakin’ muscles. Three black tattooed teardrops extended below his right eye.

“This is the dude we are supposed to intimidate?”

“That’s why I brought you,” he said pointing to my arms.

“Oh great.” Somatotech had left out the hand-to-hand combat training.

The clock hit 12:00pm. A rumble approached. It sounded like death on wheels. The beast entered the parking lot near us and parked next to the building. He got off his bike and entered the bank.

“Wait, I thought we were here to stop him.”

“I warned Mrs. Jefferson that he would be coming in one more time. Put this on. Time for you to do your part.” He threw me a black stretchy mask. “Here are the keys. Do not start it, roll it over to our spot. We want to draw him there.”

Great so now he will be pissed when he comes over. I ran over to the bike, trying to avoid the sight of the camera. Placing the key in the ignition, I caught sight of a little boy watching me through the glass of the bank. He tugged at his mom’s pant leg as she pressed buttons on the ATM. Before she could turn around, I kicked the bike in neutral and rolled it to the spot. I jumped back into the car, hopped up on the adrenaline of the moment.

“What do we do if he has a gun?” I asked as I anxiously kept my eyes on the bank entrance.

“Avoid getting shot,” he said dryly.

I looked at Manuel to see a grin or other expression to indicate he was kidding. None surfaced.

Even before the beast exited the glass doors, I could tell he was enraged. He ran to where his bike used to be and then scanned the parking lot. When he caught sight of his bike, Manuel got out of our car. I followed him. The beast of a man approached.

“What in the hell are you doing with my bike?” his voice roared like the beast he was.

“Mr. DeFelice. You will no longer come here. You will no longer contact Mrs. Jefferson. If we see you near her, we will kill you,” Manuel said calmly, standing his ground.

The beast came up to Manuel, towering over him, pressing his chest into his. “You’re a little man to be putting out threats. How about I teach you a lesson?” He pushed Manuel into the side of the car.

“Do I need to repeat myself? You will not harass Mrs. Jefferson ever again,” Manuel repeated as he regained his balance and adjusted his sport coat.

“Shut up, I do as I please.” He looked around. “You picked a good place to die.” He pulled a knife out of his coat pocket and advanced on Manuel. Manuel looked to me and nodded.

I jumped into action grabbing his arm and twisting. He resisted, trying to pull his arm back towards Manuel. His other arm swung around contacting me in my flank. Three of my ribs cracked but I held on. I twisted harder until, SNAP, SNAP. His radius and ulna cracked in turn and his forearm gave way, twisting his skin tight. The sickening sound caused me to release his arm which recoiled back like a spring. He fell to his knees.

“Argghh,” he groaned. Clank. The knife fell to the ground and he grasped his forearm. His wrist and hand waved limp from his arm. I kicked the knife away towards his Harley.

“Look what you did!” he yelled as he buckled over. Reflexively, I took a few steps back.

“Like I said. Come near her again and we will kill you. Do you understand?” Manuel said, now towering over the beast.

He didn’t respond, still writhing in pain.

“Let’s go.” Manuel stepped into the car. I stood there, staring at the man I had just mangled. What had I become? What had this man done to me?

“Get in the car now!” Manuel yelled.

His insistence broke me from my trance and I jumped into the car. I looked down at my hands, dangerous hands.

“He raped her and beat her kids. Is that what you wanted to hear? He deserved it and more. You did good back there,” he said while pulling out of the parking lot.

“Sure didn’t feel right, but I had to, right?”

“He would have killed me. You did what you had to do.”

As we pulled out into the road, I asked Manuel, “Why don’t these people just call the cops?”

“Because the cops can’t do what you just did,” he said, waiting on the light.

I sat in silence on the ride back to the compound. Once again, he had me put on the bag when we entered Sedalia. I almost told him I had memorized the directions just to not have to wear the itchy thing.

Upon arrival, the four men, Manuel, and I, met in the kitchen for a late lunch.

“Report,” said Manuel, pointing to the closest man.

Down the line, each man described in detail his respective operation. One man protected a woman at an abortion clinic; another escorted a congressman to a backdoor deal. Finally, we made it to who I presumed was Tigre. He stood, walked slowly over to Manuel and whispered into his ear.

“They shook down Juana and Frederico. They know about Salsitas and the kid going there. We gotta get rid of him.”

“Everybody out!” yelled Manuel. He clenched his fists and slammed them down on the island. The men scattered. Doña Maria stayed at the sink washing the dishes. I started out of the room.

“Coyle, stay.”

I nervously returned to my seat.

“Coyle, you have to leave. Somatotech is already too close for my comfort.”

“They don’t know about this place, they can’t…” I protested.

“I’m sorry, you will leave tomorrow morning,” he said and abruptly left the room with Tigre behind him.

The Doña came over to me and placed her hand on my back.

“I’m sorry, Coyle. You do understand, right?”

“Yeah. But you all are my only hope. Who knows what they are doing to her? Probably torturing and drugging her. She is the most kind, dedicated, and beautiful person I have ever known. She doesn’t deserve this. I must get her and I need help. Please,” I said with hands trembling and tears beginning to stream down my face.

“I will speak to Manuel, but no promises.”

“Thank you Doña.” I gave her a hug and she left the room.

I spent the rest of the day in my room. Most of the time was spent crying, just flat out balling. I know, I was a wuss, but the overwhelming sense of futility hit me hard. Near dinnertime, I heard a knock on the door.

I opened it and quickly hid my bloodshot eyes. Manuel and Tigre stepped in.

“I will give you the intelligence you need to extract you girlfriend in repayment for the operation.”

“Thank you Manuel, but I need more than intel, I need help, like manpower and supplies. C’mon Manuel, please.”

“I will not risk my men, I’m sorry.”

“Then firepower, please. I’ll do another job for you, I promise.” I sniffled up some tear snot.

Manuel and Tigre looked at each other as if reading each other’s thoughts. Eventually, Manuel nodded. “To pay for the firepower you will have to go on many operations after you extract her, do you understand?”

“Of course, thank you.” I grabbed his hand eagerly and shook it.

“Come with me,” said Tigre.

Leading me down the same hallway as my room, we ended at a vault.

“Turn around.”

After turning my back Tigre dialed the combination and spun the bolt on the vault. It creaked open behind me.

“Come on in.”

The vault extended at least fifteen feet back, with multiple rows of metal shelving full of weapons. Heavy artillery hung on the walls. Rocket and grenade launchers, mortars, and a wide variety of high-powered rifles.

“Lethal or non-lethal?” he said while pointing to either side.

“Non-lethal, I don’t want to kill anybody,” I said looking at the weapons.

“You know they won’t return the favor, right?” With gloved hands he grabbed a few AR15s and a shotgun.

“No death.”

He tossed me an AR15. “It will be your death and it will be a waste. Take a box or two of live rounds, I promise you will need them. How many will be in your party?”

I wasn’t sure. Maybe it should be just me. Why would I endanger my friends? Would they even willfully help me? I knew Aedan would be there beside me, but I needed Roxanne. The way she didn’t hesitate to take me down, dang, she would be an asset.

I agreed to take a few boxes of live rounds. The weapons clanked down on the cart he had retrieved from the hallway. He loaded up a cart with M16s, Beanbag shotguns, armor, helmets, rubber bullets, beanbag bullets and a box of two hundred live rounds.

We returned to Manuel with the weapons in the cart. Turning over each one he inspected the serial codes. Deep scratches blurred all of the numbers.

“Coyle these weapons are untraceable. Always wear gloves when handling them. If you lose any, you will pay for it. Agreed?”

“Agreed. So, have you heard anything about Jamie?”

“Yes, your suspicions are confirmed. Angelfire located her in the basement of Somatotech headquarters. He has agreed to help you with the extraction if you are the only one to communicate with him.”

“How do I contact him?”

“We will give you a website when you leave. Coyle, I want you to be successful so I get my weapons back. Let me give you some advice. Utilize each advantage you have over them. You are stronger and smarter than all of them put together. Analyze their security system; they all have weaknesses, especially those operated by imperfect humans. Also, choose the right crew, individuals who are intensely loyal to your cause. If they display even a smidgen of dissent, drop them. It is not worth it. You or they will die because of it. If you choose friends as your crew be prepared for the pain of their death.”

“Thank you Manuel, I appreciate it. Speaking of my friends, can I call Aedan?”

“Yes, we looked into him. He seems trustworthy. We checked the phone Dr. Strayer gave you, it is not being traced.” He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to me. “We dropped a phone with him and he is expecting your call.”

I dialed the number they provided.

“Aedan!”

“Coyle, what the freak is going on?”

“Somatotech kidnapped Jamie and killed Dr. Strayer.”

“I know about Jamie, but Dr. Strayer? Dang man. I’m sorry, I know you guys were, you know, close.”

“How did you know about Jamie?”

“You told me to get in contact with Roxanne, so I did. She told me all about what happened. Oh and she says you owe her a window.”

“Aedan, I need to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest. Don’t feel obligated man. I…”

“You know I’m in Coyle. We’re going to get Jamie back from those scumbags. I already cleaned my mom’s gun.”

“Whoa dude, we don’t want to kill anyone. But, we need a team. Any ideas?”

“Way ahead of you man and so is Roxanne. Two words, Special Forces. Roxanne knows two guys who were special forces. I guess they owe her. She is something else man.”

“You falling for her? Mental case and all?”

“Shut up dude. How could I fall for someone I can’t even see? Who knows what she looks like under there? Anyway, when are you coming back?”

“Soon, but I need a place to stay. Somewhere off the radar, but I need access to the internet.”

“I gotcha covered,” said Aedan. I could tell he was smiling.

I closed the phone and sat down on my bed, amazed at the recent turn in events. A glimmer of confidence and hope grew inside me.

“Eat and then get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.” He and Tigre left, taking the weapons cart with them.

I ran into the Doña in the hallway.

“Whatever you did Doña, thank you.”

“You are welcome. Manuel is a good person. And you are now my little nieto.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ‘grandson’, I have decided to adopt you.” She winked and gave me a hug.

“I would be proud to be your grandson,” I said while she held me.

“Coyle, if you ever need anything, you come to me okay? I think you can figure out how to get here,” she whispered into my ear then gave me a grandmother kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, I’ll always be in your debt.”

I couldn’t sleep. My mind created elaborate simulations of how the extraction could play out. I die, Jamie dies, Aedan dies, or maybe we all die. A commanding sense of guilt occupied my heart. What had I gotten my friends and family into?

Another knock came in the morning.

“We have decided to let you stay until evening, so you have time to familiarize with the weapons and will have the cover of darkness,” Tigre called from outside the door without opening it.

After breakfast, Tigre and I reviewed each weapon and piece of armor.

“Manuel trusts you,” said Tigre as he cocked one of the shotguns.

“I’m learning to trust Manuel.”

“If he trusts you, I trust you. Do not fail.”

21 Preparations

After dinner, Manuel walked me out to the courtyard. The sound of a revved up motor echoed around the hills, coming closer. A billow of dust rose from the dirt road leading to the compound. Then I saw her, Bucky, in all her glory.

“When my men went to get your ‘car’ they were embarrassed to drive it so we made some modifications,” said Manuel.

Manuel had had two of his men working on my car the entire time. When the dust cleared my mouth gaped open at the sight of my car. New paint, cool blue, new wheels, 20” black rims, new license plates. They had even installed new suspension in the back to support all the weapons, which were now hidden in a compartment in the trunk. Dr. Strayer’s computer lay on the back seat.

“Manuel, thank you. I will be back and I will fulfill my end of the bargain.”

“You better. I will drive you out.”

We hopped in my car on our respective sides. Both doors finally worked! He placed the sack over my head and we were off. I adjusted my body in preparation for each turn.

“You know how to get here don’t you?”

“Every turn, sorry.”

“We trust you, Coyle. Please do not betray us. One of our greatest assets is having a safe house.” he said as he pulled off the sack.

In Sedalia he pulled over and turned off the car. He turned to me.

“Coyle, be smart and be quick. I wouldn’t have given you all this if I didn’t trust you. You could be an integral member of our team, so I want you back. I will contact you.” He patted my back and then began to step out of the car.

“Manuel, I need to tell you something.”

He sat back down and looked me in the eye.

“I didn’t tell you the entire story before. I left out something kinda important.”

“Continue,” he said, searching my eyes.

“Somatotech somehow found a way to clone me, to make a copy of me. He is the one who killed Dr. Strayer. I saw him, my clone, that night.”

Manuel remained silent, contemplating the bomb I had just dropped.

“I know it sounds crazy, but Dr. Strayer suspected they were up to something with my cells. He even said so when he was dying in my arms.” I looked down at my hands. A flash of red flickered as I remembered Dr. Strayer’s blood coating my hands.

Manuel looked down and scrunched his eyebrows.

“When I meet you again, how will I know you are indeed you?” he finally spoke up.

“How about we agree on a random word, you know a word only you and I know about.”

“Solitude,” he said and shook his head slightly.

He stepped out of the car without another word, rubbed his temples and climbed into Tigre’s car. They sped away back towards the compound.

I drove to the address Aedan had given me. When I arrived and looked around, I immediately called Aedan.

“What, is this some kinda joke?” I said looking around the property. An old decrepit church with broken windows and boarded up doors stood in front of me. It wasn’t the best neighborhood either.

“Not in the church, dork. Look behind it.”

I walked around to the back. A small shed was situated in the far corner of the church grounds.

“You see it? Home sweet home!” he chuckled.

“The tool shed? Does it even have power? I thought I told you I needed the internet, what am I going to do now?”

“Check for wireless, my friend.”

I pulled out my phone and turned on wireless connectivity. Bingo. An unsecure network named ACTIONTEC23 came up on my screen.

“How did you find this place?” I said as I opened the door. Within the dimly lit tool shed there was a small cot, wood burning stove, workbench, and a small sink.

“When my dad would get high and come home all crapfaced, I would run off. I found this place on one of my runs. The shed was empty when I found it so I ‘furnished it’. Many of those nights, I would stay here rather than see my family degenerate. Turn around.”

Aedan stood behind me in the darkness. I heard him approaching but acted surprised nonetheless.

“Aedan!” Uncharacteristically, I hugged him.

“Whoa man, why all touchy?” he said, though he returned the hug and then gave me a manly pat on the back.

“Sorry man, it’s just been a crazy week. So, when do I get to meet the team?” I asked as I put my things, which included Dr. Strayer’s computer, down on the workbench.

“You didn’t see me?” Roxanne’s voice emanated from the darkness.

“Hmm…, a girl who dresses head to toe in black is hard to see in the dark. Go figure,” I said peering out into the churchyard.

Roxanne and two guys stepped into the shed.

“Coyle, meet Steve and Jonas.”

I extended my hand to each of them. Steve was taller and thinner than Jonas who had stocky shoulders. Both sported buzz cuts and wore black cargo pants and green Tshirts. They were probably in their mid twenties.

“Good to meet you Coyle,” said Jonas. “Thanks for taking us on.”

“I had nothing to do with it. Are you sure you want on board?” I said looking at both of them and then to Roxanne who was now lounging on the cot.

“Yes, they’re in,” Roxanne interjected before they could respond.

“Guys, I need to know I can trust you, so I need a little more information.”

“We owe Roxanne our lives, so we…” said Jonas.

“We’re not going into that.” Roxanne stood up pushing her way in between the guys. “Don’t we need to contact that Angelfire hacker dude anyway?”

“I’ll want to hear about your little agreement after this is done,” I said as I pulled out Dr. Strayer’s laptop. Roxanne stuck her tongue out at me. Manuel had recited a website which I memorize instantly. I typed the address into the browser. A single dialog box popped up with an input section.

“Please input your username:” I put in my initials.

Angelfire: Who RU?

CM: A friend of Dr. Strayer, Coyle Murray.

Angelfire: NO NAMES.

CM: Sorry. A friend told me to contact you.

Angelfire: Dead doctor. Angry. Will help.

CM: My girlfriend is being held at ST. We are planning to extract, but need help with security system.

Angelfire: Gaining access now. Needs testing. Guards have eyes and ears.

CM: Can we meet?

Angelfire: No. Never. 3035553212. Only call with phone from dead dr. I drop instruments at drop point for operation.

CM: Instruments?

Angelfire: 39.72089 -105.01063. 8am.

CM: I’ll be there.

Angelfire: When do we extract?

CM: Tomorrow night.

Angelfire: Fast. Working all night. Call tomorrow at instrument site. Gb.

The chat ended.

“So where are you all staying tonight?” I asked as I closed the computer.

“In the church, we are already set up,” said Steve.

“I’m staying here with you. You can have the cot, I’ve got my bag,” said Aedan

“All right, everyone be ready in time. And I just gotta tell you right off the bat, I don’t want to kill anybody. What I’m saying is we aren’t taking live fire into there.”

Jonas and Steve looked at each other with incredulous looks.

“Yes sir, Mr. Boss Man,” said Roxanne saluting to me, she then glared at Jonas and Steve.

“We’ll be ready,” said Jonas as he grabbed Roxanne’s arm playfully and led her out of the shed.

When they got out of earshot, I sat down on the cot and whispered to Aedan, “How do we know these guys are trustworthy? Roxanne doesn’t even seem stable.”

“I got your back, you know that. I heard them talking, Roxanne did something big for them at Somatotech. Sounds like they may have a grudge against those scum as well. Besides, these guys seem like the real deal.”

“I hope so. We are going to need it. How did you convince Roxanne?”

“I put on my charm, man. She basically melted in my hands.” He extended his hands toward me.

“Bull,” I called him out.

“Nah, she told me no one has ever stood up to Somatotech like you and Jamie before. Apparently, Jamie had some sway with her, cause when I met up with her she was all gung ho to do this.”

Jamie. She convinced her. A pang of guilt hit me again. I shouldn’t have brought her into this.

“So, Murray, Roxanne told me about, you know, your clone thingy. What’s up with that?”

“My clone thingy? C’mon dude, they made a freakin’ copy of me. I guess he is some kinda bad dude. He’s the one who killed Dr. Strayer.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down at his feet.

“We just gotta get them back for all they have done.”

“I told you they messed with your soul.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Who do you think has your soul? Can you split a soul? We can’t live without one so do you have seventy percent and he thirty? Or maybe he has more of it?”

“Or maybe souls don’t exist and you are full of it. Go to bed dude,” I said and kicked his sleeping bag over to his corner.

Pondering the state of my soul wouldn’t help anything right now. Lying in bed, I connected to my other.

He was standing in the conference room again, but this time all by his lonesome. I pushed aside his mind and walked over to the door. Locked. I tried to force it. Not a budge. I peered out the glass wall. No one in sight. I picked up a chair to bust through. Then the thought came to me. I needed him. If they drugged him again I may not be able to connect. If I can’t connect the plan falls to pieces. I gently placed the chair near the conference table and disconnected.

The special forces guys weren’t kidding about getting up in time; in fact, they woke Aedan and me up. We drove to the coordinates Angelfire had given me. Using the GPS, I walked to the exact spot, a parking lot near a water treatment center.

Stepping out of the car, I dialed the reclusive hacker.

“Mr. CM. So good to make your acquaintance,” said Angelfire. He sounded younger, maybe in his twenties, with a high-pitched voice.

“Uh, Hi. Thanks for helping us out.”

“No problem, no problem. Dr. S and I were planning to take down those scumbags anyway. There is a trashcan next to the light post. In it are the instruments for this operation. Park your car as close to it as possible and pull the bag out. You will find the very best in there, Dr. S liked quality.”

We did as we were told and pulled my car around. The trash bag was actually a duffle bag and it was nearly busting at the seams with electronic devices.

“Dang! Do we need all of this?”

“The right tools for the right way, man. You will see. Now let me take you through each of them.”

I put him on speakerphone. He described each device in excruciating detail. He couldn’t mask the excitement in his voice but Aedan and I felt like we were back in school listening to a lecture.

“This will be sweet!” he said as he finished. “I sent you the intel Dr. S and I gathered. What time is this all going down tonight?”

“10:00 p.m. tonight.”

“I’ll need your army boys to do some recon.”

“Sounds good,” said Jonas.

“Okay, let’s meet back at the church at 5:00 p.m. Is that enough time?” I said to the group.

“Plenty,” Angelfire responded confidently.

Aedan and I drove back to the church to review the intel, while Jonas, Steve and Roxanne went downtown in Jonas’ van.

From the intelligence Angelfire had given us, which included the building blueprints, I planned our attack to the basement of the downtown headquarters. I knew they would be expecting me, I half believed the kidnapping was for that very purpose, to draw me in. Somatotech now was fully aware that I knew what they have done, to me and to all the others.

The Somatotech building was located in the central business district of downtown Denver at the corner of Curtis and 15th Street, next to the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City. The northeast side, which bordered the Reserve, was closed to thru traffic and heavily surveilled with multiple reciprocating cameras. Both the southeast and southwest sides of the building faced a large building of condominiums and multiple restaurants, not to mention the busy intersection, and thus would not be optimal for entrance. I would have to enter from the northwest parking garage. The door we had been brought through for the press events led to the exterior perimeter hallway. The elevator from that hallway descended five floors underground. Floors B1-4 contained multiple labs, offices, and operating rooms. On B5 there were numerous small rooms, 8’x8’, with in-room utilities. They appeared to be cells, as in prison cells. Angelfire found a security feed showing Jamie being led down that hallway.

Everyone made it back at five, just as promised.

“Everything set up?” I asked Jonas.

“Yep, we are good to go,” he responded.

I pulled out the laptop and we went over the plan. No matter what, Jamie was getting out of there. If it took giving up my life then so be it, as long as Jamie gets to safety.

22 Infiltration

10:00pm arrived. Our nervousness was masked by the body armor and weapons we carried. We climbed into the van and rehashed the plan. Jonas drove, getting us within a few blocks of Somatotech. Angelfire had given me a voice-changing device, which attached to my prepaid cell phone. I dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Coyle Murray, the man wanted for murder and kidnapping, is entering the Somatotech building downtown. Please send the police."

"Who am I speaking with?"

"A concerned citizen."

“May I have your name?”

“No.”

"Are you near the building? Can you see him now?"

"Yes, he is entering the building through the front entrance. Please hurry."

“Are you in danger?”

I hung up.

"Okay, let’s go." I said and smashed the phone onto the ground.

Jonas stepped hard on the gas and the van peeled out toward the parking garage. The crossbar gave way easily to the multi-ton van. Jonas drove to the back of the parking garage across from Dr. Tessel's private garage. We jumped out as the van came to an abrupt stop. I wielded a heavy battering ram to the door leading to the press entrance. After ensuring the door was locked I glanced back at Aedan for confirmation the alarms had been deactivated. He gave a thumbs up after conferring with Angelfire in his earpiece. Without hesitation, I easily smashed the metal door off its hinges with the 50 lbs ram. Steve had tested whether the security guards could hear from the parking garage after Angelfire had fixed the video feed. Not even a flinch from either guard when he banged on the door with a hammer and then booked it out of there.

The team, composed of Roxanne, Aedan, and Steve, entered the building armed with gas masks, tear gas grenades, cellular earpieces, and rubber bullet loaded AR-15s and shotguns. Aedan brought his mom’s Taurus Millennium Pro 9mm with a full magazine. I had urged him not to bring it. He’d said, “You don’t bring a knife to a gun fight.” I hoped there would be no fight at all.

I jumped into the van and we sped off across the way to Dr. Tessel’s private garage. Using the hacked garage opener Angelfire had crafted, we entered and parked directly aside his Mercedes Benz SLS. Jonas closed the garage door, got out of the van, and wedged a board under the handle of the door leading out of the garage to the main building. I crawled into the back of the van, spread out the small mattress pad and pillow, and took out the sleep mask. I lay back and checked in with the teams.

“Where are we at?” I called over the closed cellular network.

“Beta team is outside the atrium making our way towards the southeast hallway.”

“Angelfire, are the security guards in check?”

“They are none the wiser my friend. Coast is clear.”

Despite his assurance, adrenaline surged through me. The seconds ticked away, I knew we only had three to four minutes before the police would arrive. That gave me less than a minute to make the connection. The beta team would have to make it to the basement in two minutes and find Jamie in less than one.

“Going quiet. Good luck teams.”

I started to count down from 50, focusing on slowing my breathing and heart rate, eliminating distraction. Thoughts of Jamie would flood my mind and my consciousness would boil up. I started again, slowly counting down spacing my breaths. 50, breath, 49, 48, breath, 47, 46, 45, 44, breath, 43, 42, 41, 40, 39, 38, breath, 37…

I instantly entered his consciousness. Once the blur cleared, I saw that my clone stood in a small cell looking at the wall. Dang, I thought, I hadn’t taken into account that my clone may be locked up. Although, it was somewhat fortuitous because this was precisely where we believed Jamie was held.

I focused my mind on his arms. They moved jerkily at first, then I could feel his mind weakening and he let go. I moved his arms to the cell bars. Gathering up all my mental force, I attempted to bend them. They wouldn’t budge.

“Jamie? Are you there?” I knew by this time my other had met Jamie, or at least knew of her presence. So it wouldn’t be out of place to ask for her, in case people were listening.

“Coyle, pipe down please. Remember what Dr. Tessel said.” A voice from the overhead speaker startled me. I recognized it as the voice of one of the guards from my dream. His cordial tone surprised me. At least in the movies, prisoners were treated with indifference, if not overt angst.

Remembering my clone’s prior interactions with him, I spoke up. “Hey Carl, I need some water.”

“Sure thing Coyle, but keep your voice down.”

I draped my hands over the horizontal bar between the vertical bars and leaned forward hoping the guard would come close. The older guard from my dream appeared from around the corner holding a small Styrofoam cup of water. He walked right up to the bars and handed me the cup, not sensing the impending danger. I quickly grabbed his uniform near his neck and slammed him into the bars face first. He remained conscious and had a surprised look on his mangled face. Apparently, my other hadn’t been violent towards the guards. I wondered why my clone was locked up as I slammed him harder the second time and he went unconscious. Pulling him close to the bars, I inspected his person. Attached to his belt by a lanyard I found a keycard locked in a small plastic carrying case. I searched for a card reader on either side of the cell doors. About six feet away along the far wall were multiple card readers fastened in a row. I strained to see how many cells were on either side of me. The hallway curved out of my sight making it impossible to know which card reader corresponded to my cell. I took off the guard’s belt and fastened the lanyard to the end of it. I attempted to swing the card to the card readers but found it wouldn’t stay in close proximity long enough to activate. Looking down at the guard’s limp body I came up with a plan. I glanced at the clock in the hallway; if it was accurate, I had been in this cell for two minutes. The police should have arrived by now and Beta team should be nearing the laboratory. I needed to hurry; wake time had been set at five minutes.

I ripped off his shoes and unlaced them. I took the laces and tied the card to his left foot. I took the other and tied it around his ankle on one end and the other I attached to the lanyard and belt. His body lay in a contorted position so I straightened him out, orienting him perpendicular to the hallway. Pushing his body with my feet, I controlled his leg with the lace and lanyard. His leg just barely reached high enough to contact the card readers. I strained to hold him still and finally rested his foot on the card reader for enough time to open the first cell. I heard a cell open a few feet away. I adjusted to the next reader and held the card until I heard the beep. Bingo. The cell door slid opened. I dropped his leg and quickly exited the cell. While making sure the guard had a pulse, I looked around remembering the blueprints. I quickly opened all of the cell doors with the keycard. No one came running out, so I assumed I was alone.

Scanning each cell, I found Jamie in the third from the last. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her. Lying face down, she was motionless. I lunged to her and carefully flipped her over. The foul odor of vomit wafted through the air as I revealed a small pool of it on the bed. Jamie wasn’t breathing, although she had a faint pulse. Remembering my reluctant involvement in Scouts, I began first aid. I leaned her on her side and swept her mouth of the residual vomit. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled into her lungs to trigger her natural respiratory response. Jamie had all the signs of an opioid induced respiratory depression. Anoxia can lead to permanent brain damage from which no amount of pulmonary resuscitation can reverse.

“Come on, Jamie, come on!” I yelled in between breaths.

Jamie started taking shallow erratic breaths on her own after about a minute of assisted breathing. She coughed flinging aspirated vomit across the cell.

“Jamie, take some deep breaths, come on.” Sweat dripped from my forehead onto her face and she flinched.

The sound of gunfire broke my concentration. Crap, they were already in the lab outside of Dr. Tessel’s office. I needed to get Jamie to them in less than a minute. I lifted her up and raced down the hall. The main hall was located at least one hundred yards away. Angelfire supposedly was actively monitoring the security cameras. He’d better be. Three doors stood between me and the drop point that only opened by central command. Through there was the only way back to the stairwell back to the parking garage. Jamie coughed again as I jostled her with my running.

Trusting Angelfire, I rammed into the first door with my shoulder. Gratefully, it gave away easily. Bursting through the third door, a chaotic scene unfolded before me. On one side of the laboratory, the team hunkered down behind three lab benches turned over on their sides, periodically shooting a few rubber bullets at a group of guards on the other side of the room. Aedan fired a few indiscriminate live rounds in their direction as well. The laboratory was divided by four rows of large metal tables. Shelves stood on the tables stacked with centrifuges, tubes, and other equipment, most of which were destroyed already. Two large biohazard hoods adorned the close and far walls. Only thirty feet separated the team from the guards. There were only three exits: a service elevator, and two doors. Only the one I had entered would lead us out of this forsaken building. I quickly ducked out of sight with Jamie behind one of the benches.

“Take her and get out of here to the stairwell, I will meet you there.” I passed Jamie off to Aedan and ran towards the elevator leading to the back hallway. Bullets whizzed by so close that my ears felt like they would pop with the pressure wave. I had less than thirty seconds until the planned wake time. The elevator doors opened and I rushed in. To my surprise, Dr. Tessel stood triumphantly in the corner wearing a slight smirk.

“Good of you to join us, Coyle.”

“Yes sir.” I knew it was no use to play dumb, but I did it anyway just to piss him off. He gave me a snide look. The elevator doors closed behind me. I wiped thick sweat from my palms. He stood there silent, taunting me. I could probably have killed him before the doors opened again. Time ticked away.

“Coyle, congratulations on mastering control of your other. Very impressive indeed.” Seems I always impress the Snake. “The police are waiting for us above. Thank you for delivering yourself to me.” Before I could respond, he revealed a Taser in his left hand and delivered a 100,000 volt burst of electricity into my flank. I dropped violently to the ground. Pain gripped my chest and flowed out to my extremities. I attempted to get up and he jammed it into my neck and pulled the trigger again. My limbs stiffened and froze in place. On my back I had full view of what he was about to do. He removed a syringe and tourniquet from his coat. He turned me over onto my face. I could feel him wrapping the tourniquet tightly around my leg just above the knee. The elevator dinged twice signifying we had passed two floors and had three more to go. Dr. Tessel palpated the back surface of my knee obviously searching for a concealable vein. He found a particularly plump one and skillfully inserted the needle attached to the syringe. He infused the entire 20 cc syringe into my, or rather my other’s, popliteal vein. I felt nothing other than the pain from the two shocks.

Dr. Tessel bent down to look into my eyes. “Coyle, we are not done here. Jamie is not leaving, your friends are not leaving, at least not until we have you as well. So come on in you ungrateful punk! I know you are somewhere close.” He sneered again, nostrils flaring. “This version of you is going to die, not immediately, but in time. He will take the fall for you. Yet another reason you should be grateful to us. Unfortunately, this means you will have to disappear as well.” I wanted to scream but I found it difficult to breathe. “Don’t worry Coyle; we don’t plan on killing you. We have a more productive plan.” He took my hand and used the fingernails to scratch his arm. Then he punched himself repeatedly until his nose bled. Then, just as the elevator doors opened, he kicked me in my ribs. “By the way, your mom made this all possible,” he whispered in my ear. “Officers! Over here! He attacked me.”

I couldn’t break the connection, my mind held on tightly. “Wake me up, wake me up! Shake me,” my mind desperately tried to broadcast to my friends. The officers approached me with guns drawn. Finally, I woke with a start. Jonas had shaken me.

“We gotta get out of here.” I yelled as I jumped up.

“What the hell is going on? Angelfire went nuts. He said you were locked up,” said Jonas.

I clicked on the radio. “Beta team, what is your status?”

“Coyle, what the hell man? They must’ve known we were coming, there are more now. We’re pinned down in here. Aedan is the only one able to hold them off, but he only has a few rounds left.” Steve responded, obviously distraught. I could hear the short bursts of gunfire in the background.

“How is Jamie?”

“Not good, man. She is barely breathing. What are we going to do, man?”

Rage surged as I thought about my trapped friends. I grabbed the last AR and loaded it with the live fire I had stored in my backpack.

“Hey, Coyle, you said no one dies,” said Jonas with a slight smirk.

“None of us will die.” I exited the van, sprinted through the parking garage door and found the stairwell to take me down the five floors.

“Angelfire, is the coast clear?”

“No, three maggots are guarding the door out of the stairwell on B5.” Maggots, Angelfire referred to all adversaries as insects.

“Freak. What can you do for me?”

“Let it rain man, let it rain! Giving you a classic, man. Fire alarms will sound in twenty seconds. Should give you a moment to take them out.”

I entered the stairwell and jumped from floor to floor skipping all of the steps. My legs flexed hard to absorb the controlled fall. As I arrived at B5 the fire alarm rang loudly and the overhead fire sprinklers came to life, drenching the place. It’s on now!

“What the hell? Steve yelled into his earpiece, obviously, he hadn’t heard my conversation with Angelfire.

“Good to go?” I whispered to Angelfire.

“Now or never buddy, backs are to the door, they’re scrambling.”

I flipped off the safety to semiautomatic, slowed my breathing and concentrated. The heavy metal door squeaked ever so slightly as I slowly pushed it open. Cool water streamed down my face and I wiped my eyes to see through the spray. The guards’ backs were still oriented towards me. I slipped behind the first guard with his back to me and hit him squarely on the back of the head with the butt of the gun. He groaned and collapsed. The others quickly turned with their weapons engaged. Time seemed to slow. Each glimmering droplet bouncing off their black barrels froze in midair. I squeezed the trigger in short bursts. The first set hit one of the guards in the chest before he could get off a round. I darted behind a desk and rolled to the far end. I peeked from the side. The men were converging on the desk. I rolled again behind a cubicle divider and waited for two seconds, the exact amount of time for all three to arrive. Then I switched to automatic and unloaded through the divider, holding the trigger down until the magazine clicked empty. I peered through the gaping holes. All three guards lay prostrate on the ground.

“Nice work Tony Montana!” Angelfire boomed over the headpiece.

“Who is Tony Montana?” I said as I picked up the guards’ weapons and an extra three hundred round magazine attached to one of their belts.

“Oh come on Coyle! Don’t tell me…, I mean everyone has seen Scarface, right?”

“Not the time to be discussing movies guys. We need some help in here,” Steve interjected.

I ran to the end of the hallway and kicked in the doors. My pulse pounded in my ears seemingly as loud as the gunfire. I dove towards the pinned down team and landed right in the midst of them behind several lab benches. The gunfire intensified around us as I swung the guns off me.

“Change of plans, time to fight fire with fire.” I tossed each of them the guards’ M16s.

“Hell yeah!” said Aedan as he checked the magazine. All of the others followed suit.

“Where in the hell is Jamie?”

Steve pointed to an overturned metal desk pushed against the wall.

Pop pop. Aedan let a few fly as I hopped over the desk to Jamie. She lay motionless and sopping wet. I looked her over. No bleeding wounds I could see. I took a fleeting look over the desk to gauge the situation. The guards were swiftly moving towards the door I had just entered. The lead few carried ballistic shields. Filing in from the far corner door, five men in army uniforms and full body armor joined the guards in the push. We were in serious trouble.

“Take ‘em out! Now!” I yelled to the team, throwing my pointed finger in the direction of the door. That was our only escape. If they blocked it off, we were doomed. The only other exit would lead us to the police.

“We have to make an offensive or we’re screwed.”

“No way dude, there is no freakin’ way,” said Aedan.

“Yeah man, it is over, we should surrender,” said Steve.

“Does it look like they are going to let us surrender? I’ll lead it.” Moving the metal table protecting Jamie, I shot a single round at it with the M16. It dented but did not perforate. “Aedan, you will have to carry Jamie. Steve and Roxanne, give me cover. When I make the sign, run for the door.”

The solid metal lab table weighed at least two hundred pounds yet it felt light in my arms. The guards made it to the door and began closing in on our position.

Game time! “Let’s do this!” I yelled. Holding the table oriented vertically as a shield, I charged towards the goons through the water. Shots rang out and bullets rained on the table causing it to recoil back. Searing pain shot up my right hand and arm. Blood streamed down my exposed hand. I dropped that side of the table momentarily to look at my distorted hand. The bullet had ripped my middle finger clear off. Blood shot out with synchronous squirts. I held it tightly to stop the bleeding. Within a few moments, it coagulated. I lifted the table again and another surge of rounds hit the table. As I approached the group of guards, I accelerated, focusing energy to my legs. Diving forward, arms extended, I crushed the front line of guards. The collision knocked me down to the ground behind the table.

“Stay down Coyle,” yelled Aedan. A torrent of rounds flew above me. Distinctive thuds emanated from the guards as the rounds made contact. A few rounds hit the table just above me so I hunkered with my head down.

“Coyle, I can’t get the rest!”

I slung the M16 over the side of the table held down the trigger. Thud, thud, thud. I knew I had hit a few of them. A shuffle of feet let me know there was one still alive. I jumped up, aimed to where I had heard the sound, and squeezed the trigger. Thud, Thud. Dead. Breath sound emanated from a few of the men but I heard their hearts stop. I made the sign to the team and, led by Steve and Roxanne, they moved in on my position. Steve made it first and glanced over the table.

“They’re done.”

“I know. Let’s get out of here.”

Beep. The elevator door from the other side of the room opened and five guards filed out weapons blazing.

Thud. Aedan’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor dropping Jamie on the way. Her limp body splayed out on the wet and bloody floor. Aedan reached for his leg. The maggots’ barrels aimed once again at Jamie and Aedan. Time slowed again. I could see and almost feel the maggots squeezing the trigger. I knew the exact trajectory the bullets would take. I picked up the table and hurled it at the guards. The bullets meant for my friend deflected off the table and flew into the wall. The table continued and crushed the front three guards. The other two jumped out of the way in time. I laid into them with my M16 as I ran to Aedan and Jamie. I got off ten rounds. Click, click. My magazine was empty.

“Give me cover!” I yelled as I dove to Jamie. Water splashed up as I landed, bullets piercing the water back and forth. I slid her back to the corner near Steve. Aedan was bleeding profusely from a large hole in his calf.

“Oh damn, oh man, dude, I’m hurt bad.” He tried in vain to stop the bleeding with his hands.

“Give me your gun.” He unslung it from his shoulder and handed it to me. The two remaining guards had hid behind the desks near the far wall close to the elevator. Click. One of them pressed down their radio.

“Colonel Jacobs, this is Captain Waters, we have multiple casualties, only two of us remain, requesting backup.”

“Roger, situation elevated to domestic terrorism, Delta Force en route. T-minus 3.”

Oh crap. “Guys we gotta get out of here. Now or never. Give me cover.” I grabbed Aedan and slid him along the water slick floor, then turned and sprinted towards the group.

Pop, pop, pop. Bullets whizzed by me again. I dove behind the table and rolled towards the door. Steve lifted Jamie to me and then shouldered Aedan. Roxanne emptied her magazine as we exited the lab.

Jamie whimpered while shaking slightly in my arms as I ran. Her eyes glazed over and stared out without emotion. I pressed her close to ensure she was breathing. Shallow quick breaths. Her wrists had distinctive bruises from tight restraints. If only I had time to tear those scum to pieces. Pop, pop, pop. The distinctive rattle of gunfire emanated from behind me. The guards must have followed us into the stairwell.

BAM.

“Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, just giving them a reason not to follow.” Roxanne had dropped a flash bomb down the stairwell.

My shoulder collided with the door to the garage slamming it open. My shoes squeaked loudly as I tried to stop before ramming into the van. Jonas had moved the van directly in front of the door. Jamie’s head shook violently as I stopped. The team caught up and jumped in the van. Jonas wore a shocked look when he saw Jamie and Aedan. I laid her down on the mattress and sat down next to her.

“Move it Jonas!” I yelled. The tires squealed as we lurched towards Dr. Tessel’s private exit.

“Angelfire, you got control of the garage?”

“You doubt me? C’mon, have I failed you yet?”

The small door rolled open and the van screeched out. Roxanne tended to Aedan holding pressure and bandaging his wound. Steve kept watch out the back window for signs we were being followed. I doubted Somatotech wanted us found now considering the police had ‘Coyle.’

I gently placed Jamie’s head into my lap and wiped her hair out of her face. She stirred, mumbling a few unintelligible words. Her eyes opened slowly and then searched frantically around the van. Our eyes met and she recoiled violently, turning her body over then scooting to the other side of the van as if she had seen a ghost.

“Get away from me! Get…get away!” she screamed.

“Jamie, what’s the matter? It’s me Coyle.”

“I can’t look at you. You are a monster! Get away!” She tucked her head between her legs.

“What do you mean? Jamie, please.” I moved closer.

“Away, now!” She kicked at me frantically.

“What did they do to you?”

“Not what they did; what you have done. I saw who you really are Coyle. You’re a monster.”

“I’m not a monster!” What had happened to her? What had Somatotech done?

“You forced yourself on me Coyle! You’re a monster. I can’t look at you!” She placed her head between her knees again and heaved heavy sobs.

23 Futures

It took a moment for the shock of what Jamie had thrown at me to temper before I could speak. “Jamie, you know I would never - I couldn’t, I wouldn’t.” A wave of nausea swept over me. “I have been looking for you this whole time. I love you Jamie,” I said slowly with all the feeling of my heart. That piece of trash had done this to her.

Jamie kept her eyes fixed on the floor of the van. Tears streamed down her face.

“Why?” she screamed. “You helped them capture me, and then…” She pointed to me, her hand shaking uncontrollably. “You tried to force yourself on me. If it wasn’t for the guard, you would have raped me.”

“Jamie, no.” I scooted closer to her, reaching out my deformed hand. She responded reflexively. I knew it was coming. Her strike broadcasted like an amateur boxer. I didn’t move. This time she used her tightly clenched fist. My nose didn’t break but a few drops of blood spilled on the van floor. Squeezing my nose the bleeding stopped almost immediately. Jamie had recoiled back into the corner.

“Let me out, now!” she screamed at Jonas. He looked back but kept driving.

“Jamie, first off, I didn’t do that to you. I would never do that to you, you gotta know that. I need to explain something to you, something that may be hard to believe.” I swallowed hard. “Somatotech cloned me. That monster who hurt you was not me; it was their creation, using my cells. I swear to you I didn’t do this. I’m so sorry this happened. I love you and have always loved you.” Wet tears streamed down my face.

“I need a little help here.” I looked around the van.

Roxanne shot me a look then returned her eyes to the floor.

“Roxanne, c’mon tell her it’s true!” I pleaded.

“It’s true, it’s all true,” Roxanne whispered.

“Say it louder.” I needed Jamie to hear it.

“It’s true! Somatotech creates and destroys lives!” Roxanne screamed.

“Take me home,” said Jamie. Her eyes were especially cold towards me.

“You can’t go home. None of us can. Our lives have irreversibly altered. We will never be safe, not ever, until Somatotech burns and the Army is exposed.”

“I need to see my mom and dad. I need them Coyle.” Tears again welled up adding to her bloodshot eyes.

“I know you do, and we will find a way let them know you are okay. But if we tried to visit them, Somatotech or maybe even the Army would be all over us.”

“Coyle I can’t do this, not with you,” said Jamie.

“The monster that did this to you is gone, Jamie. As in, forever gone. The real evil, the company, is still out there. You know they won’t hesitate in cloning the next unsuspecting cancer patient. And they won’t stop there, not with the Army’s backing.”

“Well, what do we do now? Where are we even going?” Jamie asked waving her arms.

I felt everyone’s eyes glued on me after her heartfelt inquiry. Aedan lay motionless on the mattress. Roxanne checked his wound. Blood continued to stream out of his leg despite the tourniquet she had placed. He needed immediate help. The hospital was out of the question. Somatotech had a grip on all of them.

“Where do we go? To a place where we all can be safe, where we can get Aedan the help he needs. Gratefully, I know just the place and a Doña who will take us in. From there we plan, plan for taking down the beast. Somatotech and everyone associated with them will come burning down when we are done.”

Silence gripped the van as Jonas drove through Sedalia, following the directions I gave him. As we approached the compound’s gate, Jamie fell asleep, overcome with exhaustion.

I pressed the button on the console outside the gate.

“Who is it?” A voice I didn’t recognize came over the speaker.

“It’s me Coyle. I need help. Aedan’s been shot. He’s bleeding out, please help us.”

“No. Leave.”

“What do you mean, no? Get Manuel or Doña Maria, they know me!”

“I don’t know who those people are. Leave now.”

“The hell you don’t. Let me in!”

No response.

“Come back here!” I frantically yelled.

No response.

I ran back to the van. “I’m going in.” I threw on the body armor. “When I clear the shooter ram the gate.”

“What then? They don’t want us here,” yelled Roxanne as she squeezed on Aedan’s leg.

I climbed the fence, glanced over and caught sight of the rifle in the tower. I jumped down from the fence and hid myself behind the nearest cottonwood tree. The next tree stood thirty feet in front of me in a direct line to the house. I shot out, pushing hard with my legs, covering ten to twenty feet with each stride.

THUD.

The round hit me dead center in my chest knocking me back. The armor stopped the bullet but another came hitting my thigh, then another in my other thigh. My legs, bloody and incapacitated, collapsed under my weight. The blood gushed out of my left leg. The bullet severed my femoral artery. I had to make it; Aedan’s life depended on it. I started to pull my body with my arms, leaving a trail of blood-soaked grass behind me. The next round hit my shoulder. My vision blurred, I became lightheaded and collapsed onto the ground. That’s when it came to me.

“Solitude, solitude, solitude!” I yelled, louder and louder. “Solitude!” My voice trailed off.

The firing stopped. I could hear the chain reciprocating, opening the gate. The warmth of a spotlight hit my exposed skin. My breathing picked up as I continued to exsanguinate.

“Coyle!” someone yelled out to me.

Darkness once again enveloped me as my brain, starved for oxygen carrying blood, shut down.

Continue the story! Reverse, book two of The Infusion Series can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Reverse-The-Infusion-Series-Book-ebook/dp/B00NQQCN96

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Steven Tandberg is both a physician and new author. During his undergraduate days Steve enjoyed his creative writing classes but due to his decision to pursue a career in medicine they dwindled away. After having the creative bug thoroughly stamped out during medical school, Steve reignited the fire with his debut novel Origins. Sequel novels are slated to be released next year. Steve lives with his beautiful wife and daughters in Albuquerque, NM.

Table of Contents

- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

- Copyright

- DEDICATION

- 1 Pain begets pleasure

- 2 Turns of fate

- 3 Mucous membranes

- 4 Vitals

- 5 Consciousness

- 6 Risks and benefits

- 7 Dreams and memories

- 8 Alignment

- 9 Publicity

- 10 Discovery

- 11 Capacitation

- 12 Words and Emotions

- 13 Excessive Force

- 14 Weakness

- 15 Revelations and Contacts

- 16 Sopapillas and The Russian

- 17 Isolation

- 18 Blood and Air

- 19 Two

- 20 Indentured Servitude

- 21 Preparations

- 22 Infiltration

- 23 Futures

- ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Table of Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Copyright

DEDICATION

1 Pain begets pleasure

2 Turns of fate

3 Mucous membranes

4 Vitals

5 Consciousness

6 Risks and benefits

7 Dreams and memories

8 Alignment

9 Publicity

10 Discovery

11 Capacitation

12 Words and Emotions

13 Excessive Force

14 Weakness

15 Revelations and Contacts

16 Sopapillas and The Russian

17 Isolation

18 Blood and Air

19 Two

20 Indentured Servitude

21 Preparations

22 Infiltration

23 Futures

ABOUT THE AUTHOR