TWENTY-TWO

•   •   •

Jed awoke in darkness, a voice whispering in his ear. “Do this for your family. Save them.”

The remnants of a dream were there, just on the inside of his eyelids. He’d taken a shot, a long-distance shot. Very long distance, at the edge of his range. He’d targeted someone familiar, a friend, and the lingering guilt now pricked at him.

The voice came again, not from anywhere in the room, but from his mind. Perhaps the trailing wake of a very vivid dream. “Do this for your country. Save them.”

The voice faded until the last syllable was barely audible, then disintegrated altogether. Silence enclosed him once more, not even the sound of dripping water that was present in the corridors. Not even the hum of the ventilation system he’d heard in the other room. Not even the soft susurrating voice of the ghost in the corridor, claiming that it was going to get revenge, was going to kill the devil. This place was different, darker, void of any sensation. A place where even ghosts refused to haunt.

He grew tired again, so tired he could no longer hold himself upright, so he lay on the cool floor.

•   •   •

A flickering light woke him. Bright, now dark, bright, dark, bright, dark. A slow strobe.

Jed shielded his eyes and pushed himself to sitting again. His head still throbbed and the site above his ear still felt like someone had stuck a hot poker in it, but the pain had subsided a little.

With each pulse of the light, Jed got a brief view of the stark room he was in. No bed, no latrine, no sink. Only drab-gray concrete. The source of the strobe was a small light in the ceiling. Beside the light was one vent. And there was a door on the far wall, smooth, no handle, no window. Same gray as the wall. Nothing at all to even distinguish it as a door. That was it; there was nothing more.

Slowly the periods of dark extended and periods of light grew quicker. After several cycles, Jed measured the intervals. Two seconds of darkness followed the briefest flash of light.

“Are you ready, Patrick?”

It was Murphy. His voice, once again, surrounded Jed, came at him from all sides. Inside that concrete box, the sound waves must have ricocheted in every direction, giving the illusion of the voice having no origin.

“Ready for what?”

With the next flicker of light Murphy was there, in the room, standing next to the door. He wore dark clothes and had his hands in his pockets.

The next flicker revealed more: concern on the man’s face, his forehead wrinkled, head tilted slightly to the side. He wore a suit.

“To save Karen. To save yourself and Lilly. To save your country.”

The light continued to pulse, but Murphy never moved from his spot in the room. In fact, it appeared to Jed that the man’s mouth hadn’t moved either. Of course, it might have been an illusion brought on by the brevity of light. Possibly his brain could not register quickly enough the signals the optical nerves sent it.

“There are enemies within.”

“What enemies?”

“Dangerous enemies. They’re powerful and will stop at nothing.”

Now Jed was certain the image’s mouth did not move. Was it a hologram of some sort? Was he still sleeping?

With the next flash of light the image of Murphy was gone, but the voice continued. “Only you can stop them. All that you fought for, all that you sacrificed, will be ripped from you, ripped from everyone.”

The light flickered and the image reappeared. Murphy, same dark suit, hands in his pockets, head tilted to one side.

“What are you doing?” Jed said.

The light flashed on, but there was no Murphy.

“Only you, Patrick.” The voice began to fade. The image no longer appeared. “Only you can stop the enemy of us all.”

And then the voice was gone, the strobe stopped, and darkness prevailed once again.

Jed leaned back against the wall and let his mind sort through what had just happened. There had to be a logical explanation for it. The image was real, or so it seemed. It did not appear to be a hologram. It was too solid, too detailed. It was Murphy. Was it possible that he’d slipped in and out of the door? Was it some kind of illusion meant to mess with Jed’s mind? Was the intent to disorient him? Confuse him? He thought of the scrubbing and imprinting that had occurred before and wondered if it was happening all over again. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

His mind then went to his family. Karen and Lilly were so vulnerable. They needed him to protect them. He was a protector by nature; it was one of the aspects of his psychological profile that made him such a successful sniper. His duty was to shield his brothers from unseen enemies, prevent harm, preserve life. And he’d done it well. But now he was helpless to protect his wife and daughter. They were on their own.

In darkness that seemed to separate his soul from his mind, Jed did the one thing he could still do. He prayed. God, protect Karen and Lilly. You’re our only hope.

He grew tired then, overcome with fatigue so suddenly that he nearly tipped over and fell to the floor. Carefully he lowered himself to the concrete and allowed sleep its victory.