"Anamnesis" Chapter Six

Black Wolf watched as the blinking light on his monitor made a ninety degree turn and shot off towards the west. The sun was rising, the cover of night no longer an asset. Aurora had to be sent away before it got any lighter outside. The black wedge rocketed off at top speed to keep the sun from shining on its tail.

"All other teams, report." Black Wolf's grip on the steering wheel tightened as his team each spoke the three words he hoped he wouldn't hear.

'Damn it,' he thought to himself, 'doesn't make any sense. We had them. Where are they?'

He knew that the car they were in wasn't cloaked. Even the best of cloaking systems had a limited time of usage before the equipment needed to cool to undetectable levels. That short time limit had come and gone over two hours ago, and the car containing the two teens was still off the grid.

That left only one other possibility, the so called "art", something that Black Wolf took great offense with. Most called it magic, but those in the know called it the "art". Black Wolf always prefaced that word with another, "dark". Practitioners of the dark arts were enemies of everything that he was sworn to protect. They were traitors to his country, and to mankind in general. To Black Wolf, using the dark art was akin to burning the American Flag.

He knew that the younger girl, Sarah, could use the dark arts. She had already demonstrated that her abilities reached the same degree as the evil creatures that hid in the shadows. These were the same creatures that were just waiting for their chance to bring down all that Wolf held dear in this world.

But Wolf's team hadn't known that the girl's older siblings could also manipulate the force known as ether in such a manner. If this was the case, if this was how they were able to elude capture, then Black Wolf and his team needed to completely change their strategy on bringing them down.

'You can't run forever. We'll find you, and when we do... I'll end your disgusting little lives.'

"Sir," the communications truck broke into Wolf's thoughts, "incoming transmission from the Council."

'Shit.' Wolf cursed this new turn. He hated the Council, hated everything about them. They were weak, they had no real vision, no idea just how desperate things were on the ground. 'One day, ' he often thought, 'one day I'll take over the Council. Once I'm in charge, my men and I will rule with an iron fist. There will be no gray areas when it comes to our enemies. No red tape, or democratic votes, when it comes to our safety. We will find our enemies, those disgusting things that have invaded our world, and we will destroy them.'

For now this was all just a fantasy for Wolf, but one that he could implement at a moments notice. His men were loyal to him, loyal to the point of being fanatical. When he chose to strike, to oust those who held the top positions, his men would facilitate him in his coup. But the time was not yet right. His ambitions for greater power had to wait. He still needed the Council and their resources, and besides, he owed them his life.

One day that debt would be repaid, and then a new day would dawn on America... on the world. The unnatural ones would crumble before the might of his army. There would be no talk of treaties, or peaceful cohabitation. No discussion of the finer points of what is and is not evil. There was but one answer that the Wolf found comforting. All users of the dark arts needed to be rounded up and destroyed. Not studied in some lab, not reasoned with, and certainly not seen as equals. They were trash, garbage, the refuse of another world thrust into our own.

For the most part the Council shared Black Wolf's views, but to him they moved at a snails pace. If he were in charge the days of hiding and secrecy would be over. His men would march out in the light of day, Aurora would no longer need the cover of night, and the American people would know just how close they were to being overwhelmed by the real evil doers.

For now the Council called the shots. All decisions came from them, and Black Wolf followed his orders without question. Everything was about to take a new turn, all he had to do was wait it out, and maybe his moment would come.

Wolf set the auto drive function to "on" and activated the video screen. On the windshield before him a twelve inch square block of static appeared. The tiny gray and white dots shifted into the multicolored blocks of a digital image before coalescing into the frowning face of Hollister Broddick, member of the Council and billionaire CEO of ADS computer systems.

Mr. Broddick was a private man, rarely seen in public. He always wore a black suite, gray shirt, and a crimson tie. It was his trademark attire and company colors. His hair was thinning but still mostly black, though his temples had begun to turn silver. He had a pale complexion, but not unhealthy in appearance. He looked much younger than his reported eighty years of age should have made him, but his steely gaze shone with a deep wisdom that could only come from such life experience.

Hollister sat in a large leather office chair. Behind him the view from his office was dotted with the tops of other buildings in the city of Highland. All ADS offices were shelled in black polarized glass and the edges of the buildings were trimmed with red neon lights. With the sun still one hour from breaking over the mountainous horizon of Highland, the red glow from the buildings exterior lights cast Hollister in a sinister light.

Since the explosion of the Internet, ADS buildings had been popping up in just about every major city in the world. Currently, the ADS world headquarters was located in Highland, NY, officially, a site selected personally by Hollister because it was where he had been born. Unofficially it was chosen so that he could be closer to the secret installation under Highland, Project Phoenix.

"Report." Hollister's voice came through the sound system with a tinny quality that sometimes plagues audio sent through satellites. Normally his voice was deep, powerful, imposing. He was known for being a bit of a bully in the software business. His company, Applied Dynamic Systems, had cannibalized dozens of other smaller companies as they were acquired through less than noble means.

"Sir. Secondary targets eliminated, primary targets are loose and mobile. We believe that they may have been tipped off to our operation by Lone Wolf." Just saying Jonathan's code name out loud made his skin crawl. Still, after all these years, Black Wolf despised the man who had once been a member of their group, the first group.

"Unlikely." Hollister's face showed very little emotion as he spoke. "I've sent him back to Australia to investigate the ruins discovered at Ayers Rock. He's been out of the country for the last fourteen hours. This should have been a clean and simple mission for you, Donovan. I'm disappointed."

Donovan, aka Black Wolf, winced at the both the reprimand and the break in SOP. At no time was it ever okay to speak someone's true name over the communications network, no matter how secure it was.

"Sir, I apologize. Our intelligence regarding the primary targets was inaccurate."

"Apparently one or both of the siblings has developed an ability to use the dark arts, Sir. Aurora One had visual confirmation on the targets when they faded out of sight. All attempts to re-establish visual contact have since failed."

For the first time since Donovan had known Hollister his normally stoic frown broke into mild surprise. "So, Dr. Whelan was hiding them for a reason other than a weak attempt at repaying familial arrears. Interesting."

Dr. Malcolm Whelan... the only person Donovan hated more that Jonathan. Malcolm had been one of the project heads involved in the advanced soldier program. He had been the one that voiced his concerns regarding the over ambitious nature of the new soldiers. His reports told of his fears that they would one day rise up against their superiors. His final recommendation had condemned Donovan and his team to death. If it hadn't been for the Council, led by Hollister, working behind Malcolm's back, Donovan and the others would have been a pile of ashes right now.

All of them except for one, that is. Jonathan. Every team is only as strong as its weakest link, and Donovan believed that was Jonathan. Right from the start of training, when they were still children, Jonathan had been different than the others. Jon smiled, Jon laughed. Jon cracked jokes and acted as though he didn't care whether or not he was made a team leader. This infuriated Donovan, especially when Jon consistently out performed the rest of the team.

When news of the teams dismantling came down, Jon's name was mysteriously absent from the final report. He was to be spared as the rest of them were erased. Donovan and his men were secreted away to the installation in Montana, but Jon was allowed to remain behind. While Donovan had to hide in the shadows, Jon had free rein.

The only thing that took away some of the sting of that betrayal was the fact that Jonathan was nothing more than the errand boy of the Council, and guard dog of the Beta project. Donovan and his team were still top dogs as far as the Council was concerned, even though they were rarely put into service.

"Do you have any indication of where they might be headed?" The man's stoic frown returned.

Donovan had hoped he wouldn't ask, but now he was caught. The two teens could have been anywhere by now, and they had no leads. It was by accident that Donovan looked past the image of Hollister and saw the approaching green sign hanging over the highway: Highland City 30 miles. Suddenly all of the pieces clicked together.

'The intel on the boy!' he screamed in his mind. 'The UFO conference that he was checking out on-line last night! He's going to Highland!'

"Sir," he tried to sound calm, as if the answer had always been there, "we believe that they are heading to Highland. We should be able to intercept them there."

Again the look of mild surprise appeared on Hollister's face, "Here? They're coming here?"

"Yes Sir. We believe that they will be attending a conference at the Highland Plaza South."

"Nothing. Split your team. Have one group intercept the teens at the hotel, and another proceed to the research facility. It's time to take back what is ours. Initiate operation Clean House."

The image of Hollister scrambled into a million little squares of color before fading away. The highway stretched out for miles ahead of Donovan as the first rays of sunlight bathed the back of his car in a fiery red glow.

"Time to pay for what you've done, Dr. Whelan."

"Good morning sleepy head." Stephanie's eyes darted from the road to her just stirring brother curled up on the floor then back to the road. Bright orange sunlight poured in from the rear window. It was going to be another really hot day, even for August.

"The floor." Steph held back a chuckle as she heard his head make contact with the underside of the dashboard.

Robbie shifted around and began to uncurl his body so that he could climb back into his seat. "How did I get down here?"

"You don't remember?" Steph grinned as her brother pulled himself back up, his hair wild and sticking out in a half dozen different directions.

"No." Robbie clipped his seat belt back on. "Last thing I remember is... pulling onto the highway."

"Man... you missed a lot then." Her cheeks tightened. "You don't remember professing your undying love for me and me alone?"

"Don't tell me that you don't even remember telling me that I was your goddess and that you would kiss the ground..."

"Liar!" Rob gave her a playful punch in the arm "Now, how did I really get down there?"

"No it didn't." Rob leaned over and kissed where he had landed the gentle blow. "Now tell me."

"Alright, you're no fun." Steph paused as she changed lanes to avoid some slow moving traffic. "You freaked out... said that something was chasing us, and then crawled down there to hide."

"I'm not lying Rob! That's what really happened." She turned to face him. "Honest."

"Tell me about it. You nearly had me freaking out too." Steph shifted in her seat and winced.

"Yeah. Mom sure did a number on me yesterday," Steph sighed. "I won't be able to sit right for a month at least."

"I didn't get a chance to ask you in the tub last night but... is it burning?" Rob looked out the window at the blur of green racing by.

"If you don't know then it isn't." Rob turned back to his sister. "Mom used her pepper oil on you. I know what that feels like... she did it to me. The only way to stop the burning is with milk, you have to flush the oil out, and it takes a lot of milk to do it. Mom and Dad are going to be pissed when they look for something to put in their coffee this morning."

Steph reached over and put her hand on Rob's thigh as her eyes stayed on the road. "Thank you. I really mean that Robbie... thank you for helping me the way you did."

"You would've done the same for me." Rob put his hand over Steph's, their fingers interlacing with each other.

"I don't remember Mom using that oil on you." Steph squeezed her fingers tighter around Robbie's. "When did she do that?"

"Three months ago. She woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to come down to the basement because she wanted to show me something." A shudder passed through Rob. "I knew as soon as I saw the red light that something bad was about to happen, but... I don't know. I still went down. I wish I hadn't, but you know how Mom is if you disobeyed. She did things to me that, when I think about them now... it still aches. The funny thing is, during the whole thing, she never told me why I was being punished, just that I needed to be. When the sun came up she released me and told me to go back to bed and be quiet, so that I didn't wake you guys up. The next day she acted as if nothing had happened, so I did too."

Steph pulled her hand free of her brother's to wipe away a few tears that leaked down her cheeks. "You could have told me, you know. I would have..."

"I didn't want you to get involved," Rob comforted her. "I didn't know if Mom would punish you if I told on her."

The pair rode on in silence for the next few miles, both taking the time to reflect on everything that had happened. It was several minutes later when Steph broke the quiet hum of the tires on the asphalt.

"I'm hungry, and my butt's getting tired." She pulled off the highway and up an off ramp. "Let's get breakfast and teach you how to drive so I can take a break."

"Couple hours, but I'm too tired to keep going." Steph smiled at him. "How do pancakes sound?"

"Ordering... one short stack, side of bacon, white toast light on butter, one eggs sunny up, side of sausage, wheat toast." He read the paper ticket loudly to overcome the noise of the kitchen before attaching it to the board. There were six other tickets before this one. Seven orders to get out as fast as possible if he wanted to make any money today.

"Looking for table twenty-two, three top?" he called over the steel counter to the line cook.

"Two minutes," the man called back to him as he deftly flipped eggs over easy on the sizzling griddle before him.

"You said that four minutes ago!" Greg pulled a large brown plastic tray out of the stack, wiped it off and slid it onto the counter. "How about twenty-three, four top, all shorts?"

"Commin' up." The line cook's spatula clanged against the griddle. Soon plates began to drop on to the tray, each piled high with pancakes. Greg rushed to place little paper cups stuffed with whipped butter on each while making sure that all four plates were properly balanced for lifting. The line cook spun around one final time dropping a small pitcher full of hot maple syrup beside the tray. He pulled the ticket for table twenty-three off of the board and stabbed it through the center on a metal spike loaded with other dead tickets. "Order Up!"

Greg hefted the heavy tray up onto his shoulder and took off at a brisk walk. The double swing doors opened with a shove and he exited the noisy and frantic kitchen for the quiet of the dining area.

Table twenty-three was patiently waiting for him, cups of coffee still half full. The plates went down with a smile one at a time before Greg calmly asked, "Can I get you anything else?"

"Uhhh ?" The oldest of the four seated men looked vacantly around the table, searching for anything that might be missing. "No, I think you got it all."

"All right, enjoy your breakfast." Greg nodded at them and tried to escape his section before any of his other customers had a chance to ask him for anything. He needed a cigarette, and he needed one now.

"Absolutely," but what he thought was, 'You fucking bitch! I asked you twenty seconds ago if you wanted something to drink!' "I'll be right back with your juice."

Greg moved quickly over the short pile carpet, any faster and he'd be running. 'Two more weeks, ' he thought to himself. 'Two more weeks and I'll be out of this shit hole and in college.'

Greg couldn't wait. He only took this job because he needed some cash to get him through to his move-in day on September first. New apartment, no more crashing at his Uncle's house here in bumble fuck New York.

He never questioned his decision to leave his home in Highland; there were too many bad memories there. His family had supported him, set him up at the school of his choice, and even convinced his uncle Jerry to take in the eighteen year old before he started his freshman year. They agreed with what he believed. If he had stayed, he would never be able to forget her. Never be able to forget about the death of his girlfriend and her entire family.

Greg was moving on auto-pilot at this point. The morning shift sucked, but at least it wasn't boring. 'Turn and burn,' he spoke to himself as he deposited the used tray onto a stack of others now sticky with syrup at the server station. 'Get em in, get em out.' He pulled two clean glasses out of the stack and filled them with OJ for the deuce seated at table twenty-one.

He turned to find the hostess standing behind him pulling menus that the servers had collected after taking orders. "Yeah Ginny?"

"I just sat a deuce at table twenty." Ginny looked at him and smiled. "Cute girl, 'bout your age."

Greg looked past her to his section near the front door, but couldn't quite make out the couple seated at table twenty. A frosted glass divider separated all of the booths and prevented him from seeing anything other than their silhouettes. "Cute, you say?"

Ginny, nearly four times Greg's age, kept smiling. "Time you got yourself a girl, the other waitresses are startin' to think you're one of them fruits."

Greg laughed but stopped himself before he spilled the two juices balanced on his smaller tray. "Alright... alright... I'll check her out. But if she's anything like the last dog you tried to set me up with..."

"No, no! This one looks classy." Her smile changed to a frown. "And what was wrong with my granddaughter Chastity?"

"Ginny..." Greg gave her a peck on the cheek, "... your granddaughter has nothing on you."

Greg smiled and made his way back to his section. He had to side step two little kids as they raced past him to the bathroom. 'Fucking kids!' The juice rocked back and forth, sloshing inside of the glasses. 'Don't parents take care of their kids anymore! Christ.'

He turned the corner and approached the table waiting for the almost spilled OJ. He could see his new table now. A young man with blond hair sat with his back to Greg. Across from him, sitting with a smile as her dark eyes darted over the menu selections, sat a ghost...

Her eyes moved up to lock on his at the sound of her name. The sound of shattering glass filled the air, the room spun round and around, there were screams, and then Greg heard nothing, felt nothing... except darkness.