Sleeper Seven (10 page)

She focused on her left hand, and began to feel a tingling sensation in that area.

"Good work, I am seeing something take form just in front of the door knob. It is getting noticeably colder in the room too; what you are doing is harvesting the latent heat in the air, which is just perfect. Oh wow, I think I can see fingers now — this is incredible work here Jess — it is definitely your hand. Can you wave to me?"

Keeping her eyes closed, she raised her hand and waved it back and forth. She was concerned that opening her eyes would break the 'spell', but in sneaking a quick peek, she saw her hand as nothing out of the ordinary.

"Excellent job, I can see motion now. Try to focus on your arm, let's see how far we can extend the manifestation."

Feeling bolder, she opened her eyes and gazed down at her forearm, imagining it solidifying, and the tingling traveled upwards from her hand.

"Great, great, great. I can see up to the elbow now, and I can see you are projecting the yellow shirt you have on as well. Oh, but now I see that some of the hand is fading. Can you bring the hand back? Try focusing on the arm and hand as one unit."

She did so, and the tingling spread back downward. The feeling reminded her of an odd trick she would occasionally perform as she was about to go to sleep. As far back as she could remember, she had been able — through some odd mental and muscle mechanism near the area behind her ears — to shoot an electrical sensation throughout her body. It wasn't painful — and though not necessarily comfortable either — it was novel, and strange. She wondered what would happen if she tried activating it now, and so she did. The reaction from Terry was immediate.

"Oh, Jess, what the heck! What did you do? You were full body for just a second, that was quite a feat! How did you manage that from just an arm? Remember to tell me later. Can you do it again?" he asked excitedly.

She waited a moment and tried again.

"Oooh, really, really cool. It's like a light switch is flipped on, then flickers out after a second. Never seen that before. I could clearly make out your features except for your face. But that's always the hardest to project."

She tried once more, but the source of whatever energy she tapped into seemed to have been depleted.

"Yeah, not so much this time, I think that battery needs a little charge. That was great though! OK, enough of that, let's go in the other direction, it's always easier.
Now
try to imagine yourself as a single point of awareness, no body whatsoever: no hands, no arms, no legs, no torso, no head, just the ever-present awareness that is
you
. Now, after doing that for a minute, I want you to move around the room some. But don't try to move, just imagine going to another spot, then another, then another. I'm going to turn off the lights to help me out here, so hold on just a second."

She began these mental machinations as he stood and flicked off the overhead light.

"Just to let you know Jess, it is pitch black in here for me, but you probably are able to see a little bit."

He was correct, she could still see the room fairly clearly, and began to move around it.

"I think I'm seeing something...there's a dull glow, wait, no...I think you've got it, I clearly see a little shine there. There's a little point of light. Oh, there you go! I just saw you shoot over to the dresser and fade out. Can you center your energy again and come back towards the door?"

Jess was having fun with this; even her astral body felt like a burden now, the way she was flying around the room.

"There you go, I saw you zip to the door and do a little swizzle-type jig over to the far corner. Pretty neat! OK, I think you've got that figured out. Now if you're not too out of it — if you've still got your energy up — let's try one more thing. How about you try to talk to me. But not normal talking, that won't work. It's too high for me to hear. And I'm not saying yell and scream either, it's not a question of that. Like your manifestation earlier, you've got to imagine your speech organs in exquisite detail, while at the same time thinking the words to say. Now I left this for last, as it's the hardest, so don't fret if we can't do a thing here just yet. So start with your lungs, then your larynx and vocal chords, forming the muscles around them, and encase all that in a throat, leading up to a tongue, mouth, and lips. Try to keep all that in mind, then see if you can force a word out from this motley apparatus."

As she attempted what Terry was asking, she reminded herself to study the anatomy of it all later, as she couldn't quite remember what some of these things even looked like. The word she focused on was
Terry,
but not sure how exactly to produce it, she simply tried pushing some air through. She could hear the result as well as Terry, and it was a shockingly awful noise.

"Hoooo... OK. There we go. That was...something. Unless I accidentally just stepped on an asthmatic baby duckling. Lets try to smooth it out a bit, perhaps bringing it down an octave if you can."

She tried again, but all she could manage was something that sounded vaguely like a breathy, wheezy
"haaaaiirrr"
.

Terry chuckled again. "Alright. That's enough of that. Creepies!" He shook out his hands as though drying them while shivering with mild revulsion. "Don't sweat it though, the best I ever heard was a whisper, cause it's the easiest to do — just need a mouth and some moving air."

"Oh, here's one last trick I forgot to mention; on the distance thing where you were getting overwhelmed. Well it's pretty common. The farther you get from the physical, the less grounded you are to the bodily method of interpreting reality. Our perceptive organs actually dial down the intensity of reality in the processing of it, and in certain altered states like this, the filters are removed completely, so yeah it can be a little stunning. So now, expand back into your subtle body, and try to manifest a pair of sunglasses to wear. Seriously, I know, right? But just try it."

She concentrated on a pair of Wayfarers, and as she did so, she found her vision darkening from the tip of her nose to the sides of her head.

"If you can train yourself to do that, over time it'll go a long way to keeping your awareness present at a distance. Cuts down on the spiritual glare, as it were. And keeps Julian from having a heart attack maybe. OK, that's enough for today, that was some good work, let's pack it up and get an early lunch."

Jess returned to her own Sec-U, settled back into her body, and groggily joined him outside the chamber.

"Now, you've gotta tell me how you did that flickering thing, that's a new one on me," Terry inquired.

"Oh, it's just a thing I do with my nervous system, I'm not sure I could explain it much less teach it to anyone."

"Well it was pretty powerful, let me tell you, and good to have in your bag of tricks. You did real good!" he affirmed, giving her a hug and patting her back as they walked back up the drive. She had been here only three days, but already this place was feeling like a second home.

~ 22 ~

A
fter lunch, Jess continued her routine of a daily nap, something she was certainly getting used to. When she awoke, she noticed a piece of paper had been slipped under her door. Retrieving it, she found it was a business card, with a name embossed on it:
S. Blackstone, Security Analyst, Department of Homeland Security
. The other side of the card had
Runaway, 4pm
handwritten in blue ink.

Her stomach dropped as a flurry of questions spun through her mind. What could the government want with her? How did they get up here? Was this whole operation
connected
to the government somehow? That last question, upon reflection of her time with the residents there, she discarded pretty quickly. But what of the others? Should she even go, or just ignore it completely?

Deciding she would follow this thread wherever it led her — the whole idea of going to this place in the first place — she showered, changed, and headed downstairs to tell Julian she was going to the Runaway for a drink. There were only fancy liqueurs at the Center — no beer — so it sounded like a halfway decent excuse at any rate.

A few minutes later, she parked in the lot at the Runaway, and with the engine still running, gave herself one last chance to turn around and go back. Shutting the car off, she relinquished that chance, and headed for the entrance.

Upon entering, she didn't see Kal anywhere, and of the few people there for an early dinner, none of them looked like government folks. Then she noticed in the back, at the bar, a woman waving to her discreetly. It was the chatty, rosy-cheeked woman from the Center.
Oh great,
she thought to herself while making her way over,
What was
she
doing here?

"Hi Jess! Sorry for the late notice, but it's tough finding any time to get out of there," the woman said curtly, extending her hand. "Sylvia. Sylvia Blackstone."

Jess took her hand but was too stunned to shake it. The woman's whole demeanor was different — she had dropped the ditzy act and was now all business.

"It's never easy outing yourself, I hope you'll forgive me? Nature of the beast I'm afraid." She spoke like a doctor, oblivious to — or unconcerned with — any of the messy emotions she might stir up in others as she plowed ahead.

"I would appreciate your keeping this meeting, and my identity, to yourself, of course, for obvious reasons. I understand you are quite talented in your abilities at Adams, and we could use someone like you to further our progress in keeping America safe."

Jess finally had a moment to speak. "Um, are you like,
recruiting
me or something?"

"Of course," she said, as if it were obvious. "We need people like you."

"Is this something that's
done
here? I mean, have you recruited others?"

"Oh yes, we're always on the lookout for talented folks. People with special skills like yourself can help us keep America safe, and possibly save thousands of lives — even help us in ending, and preventing, wars."

Retrieving a silver case from her jacket pocket, she opened it, and removing a cigarette, tapped it on the bar. "You?" she offered as an afterthought, which Jess politely declined. "America's enemies are still out there you know," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "Remember bin Laden? The CIA told our President there was an eighty percent chance he was living in that compound. Do you seriously think the President risked a shot at re-election on an
eighty percent chance?
No way."

She leaned back, paused to light her cigarette, and ignoring the 'No Smoking' sign, took a long drag.

"That eighty percent figure was the official, top-shelf, direct intelligence. But
we
provided them with
lateral
intelligence: at least as accurate, if not more so, but obtained via alternative sources. We had a Sleeper positioned one hundred yards from that compound up until five minutes before those stealth Apaches arrived, guaranteeing our package would be delivered while the
one-hundred percent confirmed
recipient was home." She rapped the nail of her index finger on the table to reiterate this last point, then sat back to take another drag, as if resting her case.

"Now, are you interested?"

Jess was no stranger to being overwhelmed with information lately, but this was a bit too much. Though generally anti-war, she had to ask herself:
Was it true that she could use her abilities to save thousands of lives, or even to prevent wars?
She was definitely put off by this woman, between her abruptness, insensitivity, and especially her assumption that Jess would jump at the chance she was being offered. But still...

"So, how does this work?" Jess inquired tentatively.

"I need to go back to the Center and finish out my week.
You
go back right now, say:
'Thank you for the experience, it was miraculous and transformational, be in touch',
blah blah blah, settle up with them, and return your car to the airport. I'll have a plane waiting for you."

"A plane waiting? Today? Just for me? Like a Lear jet?"

"Almost
exactly
like a Lear jet," Sylvia oozed, smiling out of one corner of her mouth while exhaling a plume of smoke from the other.

This is too cool,
Jess thought to herself,
like something from one of those schlocky three-dollar e-books I get on my Kindle.

Sylvia leveled her gaze at Jess.

"So you gonna help us get the bad guys, or what?"

"Yeah," Jess agreed. "Let's do it."

~ 23 ~

A
fter returning to the Center, Jess found Julian and asked to settle up her bill. Julian, concerned, went in the back office, ostensibly for the paperwork, but this was clearly a ruse as he soon returned with Terry.

"Julian informs me you're going to take your leave of us," he said regretfully.

"Yes...I've had a great time, but something has suddenly come up, and I need to leave." She felt awful for doing it like this, but she wasn't lying.

Terry looked disappointed. "Jess," he said tenderly, putting his hands on her shoulders as he looked her in the eyes, "there is so much more we need to work on. You know that."

"Terry, I appreciate all you and everyone has done for me, but right now I need to leave," she replied, with a firmness that surprised even her. Softening it, she added, "I
will
be back, I promise."

"Alright then," he surrendered, removing his hands. "This is clearly your path. Good luck to you, Jess, and don't forget about us." Smiling, he opened his arms for a hug, which she willingly obliged.

Ten minutes later, all settled up, she threw her bag into the back of the Kia and was on her way. It had been forty-five minutes since receiving the note under her door.

Arriving at the airport, she returned the rental car, then wandered around the terminal looking for the private flight area. She asked a stewardess who had just come off a flight, and was directed towards a plain white door. Entering it, she found it simply led to the tarmac outside. She could see smaller jets about a quarter mile away, so she began walking towards them, her bag slung across her back. About halfway there she noticed a black golf cart speeding towards her, with two men in it, a blue mars light rotating on the dash between them.