The Distant Echo

A Desperate Animal

EARTH — MONTANA WILDERNESS — THE DAY PRIOR

Alex screamed.

Like a desperate animal he kicked his legs, heels bunching blankets and sheets, and when his frantic retreat met the wall, he punched air and recalled being some unnatural thing, so he attacked, the assault turned inward upon himself, clawing at his chest until pain and bloody skin proved his humanity.

Marathon breathing kept time with his racing heart until Alex forced a return to calm. Fresh, horrible images faded away, and it coincided with his eyes adjusting to the dark. Morning sun sliced through the window blinds in thin beams, and he recognized the outline of his military dorm room.

He was alive. Awake. And it was just a dream.

A stupid dream, that's it. Nothing more. Angry now, Alex slapped his face for believing the delusion. Nevertheless, the vividness remained. Ignoring the images and feelings that lingered, Alex indulged a pathetic explanation: stress had gotten the better of him.

Two decades of study and sacrifice, hard work, and preparation, had led to this day — the day when Alexander Green would surpass the likes of Einstein, Hawking, and Newton as the greatest scientific mind in human history. The implications of his achievement were gargantuan, and he refused to succumb to anxiety or the possibility of failure.

The booming sounded again, and he jumped. When adrenalin dissipated, Alex recognized it as a knock at the door and he grumbled irritation.

"Who is it?"

"It's Burton."

Alex shuffled to the door and opened it.

Burton stepped inside, an amused look on his face. "Good morning," he said.

"Morning? I just went to bed."

Burton raised an eyebrow. "Colonel, it's zero-seven hundred."

Mumbling a profanity, something about this being a goddamned joke, Alex went to the nightstand. The display on the alarm clock showed just after seven.

"Sorry, I overslept, never heard the alarm. Give me fifteen minutes. I'll meet you in the cafeteria," Alex said.

Burton left and Alex went to the window. He opened the blinds, the outside world flooding in: subdued daylight from a mostly cloudy sky, beams of brilliant sunlight breaking through, light snow swirling in the wind.

Alexander Green was not a physically imposing man. He was about five feet, ten inches tall, medium build, and fit enough to be healthy. He had short-cropped black hair, and to go along with his name, green eyes that shaded toward hazel. His jaw was square, though a bit soft, and a crooked nose, twice broken: once when he survived a childhood car accident and later from a Shou Shu Kung Fu match in which he failed to block a spinning heel kick. On the left side of his forehead, a jagged scar had faded to white, yet another painful reminder of that life-changing car accident.

Alex banished that memory, and he started to move with purpose. In the bathroom, he washed, splashing ice-cold water on his face, getting the cobwebs out. Next came his thermal compression one-piece before putting on his uniform jumpsuit. After boots, jacket, and adjustment of rank insignia, Alex walked out the door five minutes ahead of the estimate.

Downstairs in the common-area cafeteria, the number of troops and military officers dwindled. Alex got coffee and headed to Burton, who was sitting at a table eating a cinnamon roll and nursing his own cup.

"Okay, let's go."

Burton took a bite. "Just a minute, I'm almost done."

"Now Major Edwards. I've more important things to do than watch you eat."

Burton motioned to a chair. "Relax Alex; we've got time. Sit down."

Alex frowned but took a seat.

The two men sat in silence, Burton finishing his cinnamon roll and reading a comic book while Alex sipped his coffee, staring off into space.

Tossing the comic on the table, Burton stood, collected his debris, and popped Alex on the arm. "You ready to do this?"

Alex feigned impatience, trying not to smile. Burton was the closest thing he had to a friend at this top-secret, secluded U.S. Air Force mountain facility. A condition for this assignment was total separation, that all facility personnel were removed from society for 15 months. Once at this base, there was no leaving and no contact with the outside world until the project was online.

It was a solitary existence, and more so without friends. Being the Officer-in-Charge of Project Echo, second-in-command of the entire base, while at the same time being an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist, did not translate well into comradery and social success. Burton had a way of getting through to him, though.

Alex exhaled. "I'm more than ready."

They walked from the cafeteria and through the lobby, outside into freezing mountain air laced with pine and chlorine. Fresh snow crunched between foot and concrete as they made their way along sets of stanchions and elevated LED lights.

Surrounded by mountains and massive trees, the facility was unlike any other U.S. military base — during the Cold War it was a ballistic missile complex located in Central Montana. Redesigned and refurbished, it was a cross between an industrial plant and a black ops themed facility, its mission higher than top secret.

Its purpose: to change the world.

The walkway formed a grid between cookie-cutter steel and concrete panel buildings, and iron-fenced lots that contained tangled above-ground pipes, transformers, polymer tanks, and automated equipment. Armed security troops manned fixed posts located at various points throughout the compound while modified Stryker assault vehicles patrolled fresh asphalt streets.

Alex and Burton went to a cube-shaped building with large roll-up doors across from the dormitory. Inside the building, shielded from the elements and satellite surveillance, a line of personnel waited to pass through advanced identity scanners.

After a finger prick of blood, retinal verification, and a full-body scan, Alex and Burton passed clearance. They made their way to the magnetic rail transport vehicle, taking their places inside the car. The moment Burton stepped inside, he smiled. Alex took several rapid breaths while he fastened his seat restraints. The car started to move, and Alex maintained a death grip on his seat. Burton laughed. He loved the maglev and laughed every time the damn thing shot off into the mountain.

Eighteen minutes and 45 miles deeper into the forest, the maglev came to a stop, and the men exited into a concrete terminal, funneling into a freezing chamber. A steel door closed while high-resolution sensors scanned all personnel. When completed, the entire room pushed upward.

After a five-story ascent, the chamber stopped and the wall opened into the base floor — the main entrance into Project Echo's emitter tower.