Thought I'd try a little character exposition in this part. Not much in the way of action. If you haven't read it, take a gander at [Big Bad Wolf by /u/pinsandneedles. Worth a read and waiting for what he puts out next.
Part 4 is here
The general reaction to Rachel's declaration was lost on Alan. He was lost himself, in his vision as voices faded into the background. ...he be okay?... be fine... him a minute... Everyone he looked at threw off a mesmerizing mix of reddish hues in undulating waves of energy. Waves collided with another creating sparks like fireworks. At some point the people in the hall left and he watched as they moved leaving wakes trailing behind them.
Eventually one came over to him, they were even more fascinating up close. Then it grabbed and shook him, ...Alan..., snapping him out of his trance. The first thing he noticed was the temperature had normalized. The next was Rachel appeared to be in the middle of a lecture, she was holding up Parker Anderson's remaining arm and speaking to Dr. Klein animatedly. Techy Pete was looking him in the face, "He's back, ma'am." He said to Director Lecoutier.
"Welcome back." She said. "Ms. Sand advised we give you a minute to explore, but I need you here now."
"How long?" He asked, "What's going on?"
"A couple minutes." Agent Franks said, it felt like longer to him though. "The Doctor and the Necromancer are having a discussion on the fundamental definition of what is 'Human'."
"... so whatever you want to call it, the soul or life spark, human's burn red and it generates our life force like heat from a flame." Rachel was saying, "It identifies us as human from the 'Human Realm'. Each Realm's inhabitants are different, the Groblin for example, burn green. The life force residue on these guys," she held up the arm to emphasize her point, "these guys burn blue. So, not human..."
Dr. Klein interrupted at that point, "I ran DNA on each victim, I have the reports, they are all human." She insisted.
"The bodies are human," Rachel tried to explain again, "flesh and bone all human. But whoever was living in the meat," She said, dropping the arm with a thud, "wasn't from this Realm."
"Then what are they?" Alan asked interrupting, "Where are they from?"
"Well, that's where it gets strange..." Rachel answered.
"Now it gets strange?" Franks said, almost laughing. The events leading up to that very moment were among the strangest they had ever witnessed as it was.
Rachel nodded, not sharing the humor, "I tried summoning an Echo, a reflection of Mr. Anderson when he was alive but instead of an apparition we could see, I got something else. It's why I asked for agent Lyons' help." She turned back to the body and immediately everybody felt that uncomfortable chill return, "There's not much residue left to work with so you'll have to listen closely." She said. "Close your eyes, it helps."
Director Lecoutier closed her eyes with everyone else and focused. Based on everything she had seen this morning so far, if the girl was right, then while operational authority would remain with the AID, jurisdictional authority of these killings might fall to the Awakened Council. Then she heard it, on the edge of perception she heard it...
oopmpuh... oompuh... oomph oomph oomph oomph...
"...is that, music?" Lecoutier asked.
"Yes." Rachel answered. "Wherever these people originated, the spiritual core of their existence is reflected as music." Does that make sense?"
"I've heard this stuff before." Techy Pete said, "It's club music, they play it at raves and festivals... Electronica."
"Trance, specifically." Rachel said, confirming Pete. "D.J. O'Beirne."
"How do you know that?" Agent Franks asked.
"I'm a big fan." she replied. "In fact, I have at least three of your victims on my ipod."
Everybody stood around silently for about a minute, trying to absorb that information. Finally, agent Franks spoke up, "Okay, Ms. Sand, I'm sorry if putting you through some hoops was upsetting but if you're joking..."
"She's not joking." Alan said. He was focusing again, looking at the body and watching the faint life force residue pulse and spark in time with the music they could all still hear. Letting go he looked over at Director Lecoutier and said, "This has to go to the Council, doesn’t it?" She nodded her head and turned to leave.
"Ms. Sand, thank you." She said as she passed Rachel, "Your demonstration was very educational, I think for everybody here."
Agent Lyons addressed his team, "We have a responsibility to do our due diligence. So, Dr. Klein, re-run your DNA analyses and any other test you think could be applicable now, be creative but be thorough. Tech Pete, analyze your footage, let me know if you find anything useful. Franks, add keywords 'music', 'trance' and 'DJ O'Beirne' to our search parameters on the National Missing Persons Reporting Database, when you're done with that dig up what you can on this DJ. Ms. Sand, you and I are going to play cards."
"Cards?"
"It's high time we laid some on the table." He said.
Jamil had been driving all night taking as many random and obscure back roads as he could. It didn't seem to matter though, they were always behind him, sometimes by an hour, sometimes by scarcely a minute. He didn't know what they were. No. He knew, he had so many dual memories, unsee'li, his mind was so muddled.
He was at a truck stop earlier, filling up when he saw them riding across the freeway divider. Why could nobody else see them? It was as though they were all looking at more important things at that very moment. Nobody else saw the carpet of ‘things’, wearing red caps, scurrying across the ground like a hoard of army ants. Nobody else saw the impossibly thin monster person things riding horses, maybe lizards or sharks on two legs. Maybe they were a combination of all three. The closer they came the more discordant his music became because of that voice. He drove off without even removing the fuel hose. He stuck to the back roads ever since.
That music still pulled him North. Images in his mind showed a city, he knew it from movies, Seattle. He had to be there, to get home again, a home he only just started remembering. Strobes of red and blue from behind snapped him back into focus. This was a delay he couldn’t allow but running would make it worse. His other thoughts dismissed allowing himself to be jailed walls can't keep them out, they can't be stopped t’would be a route.
Deputy sheriff Clive Polk loved his coffee hot and strong, especially now that he was saddled with the sunrise shift. He didn't mind that, he could sit at his favorite back road speed trap, drink his coffee and reread his old Drearden Folders paperbacks. It was quiet since nobody was ever awake... except for that full sized van passing by with a fuel hose dangling from the gas hole. "Sorry Harold, that mummy mammoth's gonna have to wait."
Pulling out behind the vehicle, Clive called in the van's particulars and followed at a respectable distance while he waited for the breakdown. He didn't like the answer; stolen and a Flying Jeff's near the state line reported a gas 'n dash. Requesting backup, Clive hit his lights and surprisingly, the van pulled over. Also surprisingly, that was the last thing he remembered.
The patrol car’s dashcam would later show deputy Polk following procedure to the letter as he ordered the driver out of the van and approach with weapon drawn. When the driver opened his mouth and produced a pure note, the image scrambled. It was impossible to say how much time passed but when the image resolved itself again, deputy Polk was standing in the middle of the road, weapon holstered and the van pulling away leaving the fuel hose on the ground. Deputy Polk stood that way for about five minutes before Deputy Sheriff Lang arrived in her patrol car.
Special Agent Lyon’s office, Rachel was sitting on the small couch while Alan closed the blinds. She watched as he locked the door and unlocked a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, poured both and offered her one. “I’m only 19.” She said.
“And I’m on the clock, which says 11:30 a.m. but here we are and here it is,” He replied while setting her glass down in front of her. “I have a feeling you’re no stranger to amber fire anyway.” He took a sip and sat down in his chair, “Why did you show me how to do that?” He asked.
“Anybody who can Read can do that.” She answered, “I guess the question should be, why didn’t you know how?”
“You’re one of Doctor Clark’s, right?”
“Just like you.” She said, taking that glass after all.
“What happened?”
“That’s a level of trust you haven’t earned.” She said. “Why do you want to know?”
“Fair enough.” He said, “You don’t get goosebumps.”
“Goosebumps? You’ve had me under a microscope because I don’t get goosebumps?” Incredulity saturated her voice.
“You’re file is so redacted there’s more hidden than not.” He said. “Your breath doesn’t steam in the cold. Your mask doesn’t move when you exhale, except when you’re talking. Your breathing rhythm in and out is so regular I could use it as a metronome. Your life force is real but your aura is fake, a thing of beauty worthy of Abagnale but it’s fake…”
“I don’t know what an Abagnale is...” She said. Her lips were pursed and consternation was painted on her face.
Alan continued. “I’m going to request that you stay on with us until the case is solved. I’m going to need to know what you’re capable of, I’m going to need to know that if you accompany me in the field, you’ll be an asset, not a liability.” He got up to pour himself another drink. “Doctor Clark works with damaged people so I’m going to need to know whatever you’re hiding about yourself won’t bite us in the ass.”
Rachel finished her drink and held out her glass to get refilled too, “You first. Tell me what makes you so damaged and maybe I’ll give you something in return. Earn my trust first.”
Alan sat down in his chair and drained his drink again. "Fair enough."
Eight years ago
Begnino Rodriguez was the head of the third biggest drug cartel in Mexico and he was a monster. The more the joint FBI/DEA task force smashed his cartel in the States the more monstrous he became. He was Awakened as well, proficient in casting illusions, which he used to great effect. It meant that he was in the field a lot, taking a hands-on approach with his smuggling and distribution operations. It also meant he could be tracked down, cornered and soon captured in one of his San Diego safe houses. A job that should be made easier with a specialist the DEA brought in to counter Begnino's illusions.
They were all warned in the briefing that he used human shields, hostages taken from influential families in Mexico and used to keep his power base South of the border. Civilian hostages always meant trouble, upping the chances of a body count.
The initial breach went text book perfect. The counter charms on their night vision goggles immediately saved the lives of the point men. Three gunmen lay in wait to ambush them, one disguised as a grandfather clock and the others as a refrigerator. Clock was taken without a shot fired, the refrigerators weren't as fortunate.
Agent Simon Falks found the door to the basement and wanted to go down straight away but the tac-commander ordered a hold until it could be checked and cleared of traps. The gunfire and muffled cries of children shot that order to hell. Simon went first, goggles on, into the dark basement. Agent Alan Lyons followed behind ignoring the orders to hold, preferring instead to back up his mentor and partner.
The basement was filled with crates, some were open and showing their contents, a mix of guns and drugs. Along one wall were what looked like four dog kennels. Two were empty but the other two were occupied by children. The hostages Begnino was famous for. Simon was looking them over as Alan reached the bottom of the stairs. One dead, one wounded he flashed in sign language. The tac-team was on their way down the stairs when Alan found a pile of crates that had been pulled down and a tunnel could be seen behind them.
While the medic relieved Simon at the kennels, Alan and the tac-team cleared the basement and then gathered at the tunnel entrance. It wasn't uncommon for a drug safe house to have one of these, they usually lead to a warehouse a few blocks away. The team entered while Alan radioed the information in to command. Hopefully they would have able to discern the exit and have another tac-team waiting for Begnino before he got there.
The tunnel was wide enough to fit three men abreast but even with the vision enhancements it was impossible to see the other end and the going was slow in case of traps. Grunting and crying could be heard coming from somewhere ahead so according to Begnino's M.O., the other two hostages were definitely being used as shields. "Non-lethals, non-lethals." the tac commander whispered over the radio. Automatic weapons were replaced by Taser rifles and beanbag shotguns. Simon and Alan had neither so they faded to the back.
After seemingly forever and in no time at all, a halt was called and the group crouched down in cover ready positions along the sides. Up ahead there were protrusions on the floor along each wall and continuing into the distance. Probably rocks but spaced as they were along the tunnel floor, the team couldn't risk approach yet. A two man point team had just gone ahead to investigate when a sudden and painfully blinding, searing light hit everybody. The protrusions were floodlights lining the tunnel walls like a runway. In shock and pain, everybody instinctively ripped off their goggles to avoid going blind. That was when the grenade landed in the middle of the group.
In the confines of the tunnel, the explosion was devastating. Body armor only protects so much, half the tac-team was immediately wiped out. Simon and Alan were spared the initial effects of the explosion because everybody else was unfortunate enough to be in front of them. But that didn't protect anybody from the pressure wave or the noise which was amplified in the tunnel. Alan blinked and suddenly found himself on his back, a quick check showed no obvious injuries. Looking over at Simon he saw that his partner wasn't so lucky, he was bleeding out of his eye socket. Unconscious but miraculously alive.
Head pounding, ears ringing, vision blurry, Alan checked the rest of the tac-team. Three were dead, two injured, the two point men were as rattled as he was but also uninjured. He thought he might have a concussion though, he was seeing colors around everybody. Sharp, shifting prismatic sprays of color washing over the wounded and the point men covering the tunnel ahead and despite the floodlights, he could see them clearly from the colors washing over them too.
From somewhere ahead, a spray of gunfire hit the wall, gouging out chunks of rock and dirt. Everybody hit the deck and brought their weapons to bear, waiting to catch a glimpse of the gunman. Not easy with the floodlights in their faces.
Up ahead one of the point men called out, "contact" and a figure could been seen headed their way as it passed in front of the lights further down the tunnel.
A child's voice cried out, "No disparar, no disparar por favor no disparar!"
"It's a hostage!" One of the point man called out, "Aqui! Aqui!" He called to the young girl running toward them. She made her way past the first tac member and was just passing the second when she came into sharper focus for Alan. Though he could see colors around her too, the back of his mind screamed at him that something was not right.
Maybe because he was further back than the other two that she didn't notice him, but when she got clear of the lights and he could see her more clearly, it all clicked for him. She looked like a cartoon. The lights around didn’t form a sharp outline of a young girl, who was turning around and raising her arms, pointing them at the two point men she just passed. Instinct took over, he scrambled to his feet pointed his gun at her and shouted, "get on the ground!" as he moved up towards her. He could see the cartoon girl now superimposing by the pudgy body of a much larger man, Begnino Rodriguez, who spun around and aimed one of two pistols at him. Alan was ready and squeezed off three rounds, automatically aiming into the center mass of the target he could clearly see, the cartoon girl. Alan felt a bullet impact his arm, Begnino managed to fire a round, just as his crotch was obliterated by Alan’s gunfire.
Everything that followed was a blur in his memory, the shouts of surprise then confusion, guns aimed everywhere including him. Backup arriving with EMTs, being put on an ambulance, exams, the CT scan, more exams, supervisors asking questions, doctors asking questions, everyone asking questions questions questions. By the time night fell he found himself admitted in a private room. Bandages were placed over his eyes because he couldn't stop seeing those colors around everybody and it started to feel like a hammer was driving a spike into his skull.
Two days passed before the colors went away. Some doctors explained that it may have been the result of a concussion from the grenade but scans from when Alan was admitted revealed no evidence of such. Based on the descriptions of what Alan could see, his doctor ordered an examination by the Awakened Holistic specialist on staff. More questions followed, some completely unrelated to his health followed by a laying on of hands and the specialist diagnosed Alan with having Awakened. The next day he was discharged.
The following week was filled with paperwork; incident reports, after action reports, debriefing notes, board reviews, debriefings, psychoanalysis to make sure he didn't suffer from PTSD, it never seemed to end and Alan almost forgot about the colors and his diagnosis. Almost. It stuck in the back of his head, like a song you can’t get rid of but managed to shove into the background. Until something reminds you it’s there.
He was taking a breather, enjoying the air on a bench in a nearby park and letting his mind wander when he heard a voice behind him. "Alan Lyons?" Turning around he saw a middle-aged man with a briefcase, wearing a nicely tailored three-piece suit. "I'm Dr. Ian Clark, with the International Council Concerning Awakened Affairs and Individuals."
"That's quite a mouthful." Alan said.
"They're working on an shorter title." Dr. Clark said.
"What are you doing here?"
Dr. Clark took a seat on the opposite end of the bench, "You've Awakened, Mr. Lyons. I'm assigned to help you in your transition."
"Oh yeah... that." Alan took in the scenery for a few seconds, "So you're Awakened?"
"No, I’m a trauma counselor. I work with individuals whose Awakenings have been particularly... difficult."
"Yeah? What do you know about me?"
"Normally when somebody Awakens they’re making eggs and toast or driving to work. Nothing terrible happens, it’s like they have an epiphany and an already big world becomes even bigger. Sometimes though, you’re stuck in a drug tunnel with a grenade exploding in your face.” Alan looked at him, “Your supervisors gave me complete access."
"Huh, wonderful."
"May I call you Alan?" Dr. Clark asked. Alan silently consent by waving a hand dismissively, "Alan, your life has changed. I'm here to help you come to grips with that change."
"The specialist at the hospital said I was seeing people’s auras. I haven't seen any since then and to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to again."
"You will again. I'll help you learn to control it, to turn it on and off so to speak and hopefully see what else you may have Awakened into."
"How?" Alan chuckled derisively, "You're not Awakened, how are you going to teach me anything?"
"Nobody can teach you, it's up to you to learn how to control this ability." Dr. Clark said, "I can guide you through, help you learn to develop a mindset and interpret what you see. It will be like learning how to walk with four legs when you’ve only ever had two but over time..."
"Three men died from that fucker's grenade," Alan shouted angrily, "Simon took shrapnel in his brain. He's in a coma and they don't think he'll ever wake up and even if he does, he won't be Simon any more. How will 'seeing auras' help stop that from happening again?"
"You saw right through 'that fucker's' illusion." Dr. Clark said calmly. "You saved your life and the lives of five other men in that tunnel. This is why I'm here. Alan, your Awakening sucked, but it happened. You’re a good man with a keen mind and this gift can help you do a lot of good. You can see when another 'fucker' is lying to you or angry or scared enough to pull a gun, you can see when somebody needs help and comfort and if you're good enough you will learn to see all that before they know it themselves.”
“You sound like you’re trying to sell me a bridge.” Alan said.
Alan laughed a little at that. “I suppose that does sound a bit like a party line. Your Awakening isn’t the cause of your anger Alan. It can be quite a boon though, as much as you think otherwise right now. You're part of a new world and where you're going to fit in is entirely up to you. But you're going to have to fit in somewhere."
“You’re obviously capable of much more than you say you can do.” Rachel said after he finished. “Where’s your friend, Simon now?”
“He’s in a facility, still comatose. Dr. Clark was a tremendous help to me but I didn't put in the effort to learn more than was necessary.”
“Doctor Clark said you were a good person. He implied that I shouldn’t be afraid to trust you.”
“Only way to find out is to try.” He said.
“That doesn’t sound as reassuring as I think you wanted it to.” She said with a slight chuckle.
“Try me.” He said.
She paused for a minute, “My parents Awoke the night the Veil was lifted, they were among the first to Awaken probably the first. They created the meme avatars, the Bear and Wolf, that nearly wiped out the Groblin. Everybody thinks that was Humanity’s first display of power. It wasn’t.”
“What was?” Alan asked.
“I was.” She said. “I was murdered the night the Veil lifted.”
translation:
No disparar, no disparar por favor no disparar! = Don't shoot, don't shoot please don't shoot.
Aqui = Here
Submitted November 09, 2015 at 07:34AM by toclacl http://ift.tt/1Oyj4ko HFY
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