Genesis Rising (The Genesis Project Book 1) Page 4

  “No,” Saige laughed, “it just means you’re not an asshole.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, too.”

  Saige leaned across the table but kept smiling at me. “Don’t be too hard on him. Most guys I know aren’t terribly open-minded.”

  “No,” I agreed, “but most people I’ve met don’t seem to be.”

  “You don’t seem like the typical military type. How’d you end up in the Navy?” she asked.

  Great. More stories I had to create quickly before she realized almost everything I told her about myself had already been a lie. She hadn’t asked me yet for my last name, but I didn’t even have one. I hadn’t signed the lease on my apartment. I wasn’t even sure who took care of it each year and paid the rent. Probably Parker.

  And for some reason, I decided I’d steal his last name.

  He’d stolen an entire life from me. It only seemed fair.

  “Same problem as a lot of kids all over this country, I guess. Small town, few opportunities, and I couldn’t afford college on my own.” This wasn’t my story, of course. It was Cade’s.

  “GI Bill requires a four year enlistment unless you’re honorably discharged, right?” she asked. “If you joined the Navy right after high school, I’d think you earned your benefits.”

  Cade had decided to reenlist for obvious reasons. He’d set his sights on one of the most elite special operations teams in the U.S. military and after qualifying, his fifty-one month enlistment had begun. He’d only been in the field for a couple of years when he’d been told to report to a small, non-descript but highly secure building in northern Virginia. He’d had to reenlist the third time for my sake: The Genesis Project, a government funded research institute, had insisted he continue to babysit me and his commanding officer had agreed.

  I still wondered how much influence the Project had over the Navy because they seemed to be able to get their way all the time.

  About a year ago, I’d had to drag Cade from a different bar on a different continent, and he’d spent the next three hours complaining that I’d derailed his career. I couldn’t see how. He’d never finished college. He’d taken some online courses, but he couldn’t become a commissioned officer without that degree or attending the Officer Candidate School. And that wasn’t my fault.

  So I’d pointed his oversight out to him, and he’d just thrown his beer bottle at me.

  Even drunk, he had remarkably good aim, but I dodged it and told him if he was just going to be violent, I could find plenty of strangers outside who’d be more than happy to try to kick my ass. For some reason, he thought that was funny, and he didn’t try to throw anything else at me that night.

  I honestly didn’t always understand that man.

  Considering he was the only person I ever really talked to, though, I’d always assumed I wouldn’t really understand any man or woman.

  “I guess I kinda like it,” I finally told her. “Lots of men and women have made careers out of it, you know.”

  “Yeah,” she acknowledged, “but you don’t seem terribly happy.”

  I unrolled my napkin again and pulled the silverware out. What the hell was taking our waiter so long to return with our drinks? I’d even settle for him coming back just to hit on me, anything to get me out of yet another uncomfortable conversation.

  Even if I were human, I wouldn’t have chosen this career. I couldn’t imagine any other career because I hadn’t been programed with the knowledge to exist beyond the U.S. military’s reach. But I knew I wouldn’t have chosen to be a sniper.

  I often watched Cade in the field to see if he had any of the same reservations I had, but he never seemed rattled by orders to murder someone we didn’t even know. Eventually, my programming took over anyway and those same disturbing thoughts that had made Parker worry about me trying to hurt someone at the Project, which had led to my confinement to that bed, took over. Any misgivings I might have were suppressed until later.

  I still wasn’t sure if the men I’d killed deserved to die. Maybe they did. I only knew I’d never been able to decide for myself, and if I’d been given the chance, I wouldn’t have entered a career that took the right to choose whether or not I killed another person away from me.

  I rolled the silverware back up in the napkin and gave up on our waiter returning. Perhaps someone had killed him and that’s why the bastard had disappeared on us.

  “Sometimes, I like it. Sometimes, I don’t. I think anyone who joins any branch of the military can potentially find themselves in situations they’d rather not be in, and that’s just part of our lives, you know?” That was mostly true, except I never liked it. I didn’t even like traveling all over the world because it’s not like I was ever sent anywhere I wanted to be.

  “Makes sense,” Saige responded. “Honestly, I’ve never been able to understand why anyone would willingly join. Guess I’m not one for giving up free will.”

  I caught my breath and lifted my eyes. She’d somehow managed to strike my biggest fear and deepest regret in one simple sentence and we hadn’t even ordered yet. “Yeah,” I said, but my voice sounded weak. “It’s difficult for some of us.”

  The only thing I’d ever owned that was entirely mine were the thoughts the Project didn’t know about: the doubts, the questions, the curiosity, the anger at them for creating me in the first place and at my shitty luck for allowing me to survive when none of the other experiments had, my anger at the world for being so irretrievably fucked up that I was often put in situations I didn’t want to be in. Those were my feelings, not the result of some program, but mine. And even the anger and sadness I could never talk about were priceless because they belonged solely to me.

  Saige reached across the table and squeezed my hand and I held my breath again. I didn’t pull away from her as I always did when someone touched me. I didn’t find her touch repulsive at all. That same sensation from the day before when my fingers had brushed against her hand promised me that there might be something different to look forward to, that maybe, there could be exciting and pleasurable and wonderful things in this world, too.

  “If you want out, Drake, I think you should give it some serious thought. There’s so much more to life than one job. I’m twenty-eight and I went through three careers before finding one I love. Don’t be afraid of making mistakes. Be afraid of finding yourself stuck and too scared to try something new.”

  I smiled at her even though there was no way to unstick myself from the life I’d been given. “I’ll give it some thought,” I promised her.

  Eventually, our waiter managed to climb out of the black hole he must have fallen into and after dinner, I took Saige to a nearby park where we walked around the lake talking. Cade had suggested I take her to a club or bar after dinner for drinks, but I didn’t drink and I hated cigarette smoke and crowds. Why would I willingly go into a place like that?

  Saige slipped her heels off and I noticed for the first time just how much shorter than me she was. I couldn’t explain this new feeling either, but for some reason, her petite stature made me feel overly protective of her, and as we walked the path around the lake, I watched our surroundings even more carefully than usual. She slipped her fingers through the straps on her heels and carried them in one hand then held my hand as we walked. I didn’t want this night to end. Some of the conversations were still awkward and uncomfortable, but creating a fake past for myself proved to be easier than I’d feared it would be.

  When she told me she hadn’t been in a serious relationship in over six months, the silence that followed assured me that was my cue to fill in the missing information about my own romantic history. I swallowed and watched the path in front of us.

  Those goddamn chips in my brain immediately began to replay every single word I’d read about Mormonism, but I ignored it.

  “Honestly, Saige, I’ve never dated anyone,” I told her.

  She stopped walking and let go of my hand. I watched her fingers fall by h
er side and something painful stabbed my chest. I wondered if that’s what heartburn felt like. I’d never had heartburn. I doubted that’s what had caused the sudden pain now.

  “Ever?” she asked. She eyed me warily, but of all the lies I’d already told her, why would the truth be so shocking? And why would this be so much harder to believe?

  “No,” I sighed. “I never have.”

  The same hand that had been holding mine only moments ago rested on her hip as she glared at me. Why the hell was she glaring at me?

  “So what… you just jump from woman to woman looking for one-night stands? Is that what you intended me to be?”

  “No!” I insisted, perhaps a little too loudly. But of everything I’d been anticipating, that particular accusation hadn’t even made my list. My mind rewound and began playing those facts about Mormonism again and I wanted to sigh again. “Saige, I just meant I’ve never dated. Period. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m shy and weird and I don’t know how to act around other people, and the only reason we’re here is that you asked me out. If you’d waited for me to do it yesterday, we would have never seen each other again.”

  I shook my head because I realized too late that I’d just made it sound like I’d been dragged along. “I’m glad you did. I like you… a lot. I’m just not good with people,” I rambled. “And that’s probably why I won’t leave the military even if I could right now. I don’t have to think or make my own decisions. I just do what I’m told and nobody ever expects me to be able to impress clients or sell something to someone, and honestly, that whole band of brothers thing? I’m probably the asshole they’d leave behind.”

  Saige snorted and interrupted my rambling. Her fingers tapped against her hip as she continued to study me, perhaps wondering for the first time if I were lying and if I were lying now, then I could have lied about everything else.

  Or maybe that was my own paranoia.

  “I like you, too, Drake Parker. I’m not exactly sure what to make of this, but if you want, we’ll figure it out together.”

  I cringed a little at hearing my name associated with the man’s who controlled my entire life, but really, I was too damn happy she wasn’t demanding I bring her home and never contact her again. So I reached for her hand and told her, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

  That night, I stood in front of my mirror again and studied the face staring back at me. What did Saige see that she liked? I had a hard time believing there was anything likeable about my personality. It had to be this face and this body that usually attracted attention from women – and even some men – because I wasn’t interesting at all.

  After leaving the park, I’d brought her home, and knowing the humiliating truth about my inexperience, she’d unlocked her door then stood on her toes to kiss my cheek before telling me good night. And that had been it. Part of me felt embarrassed still by my admission to her and the way she seemed to treat me like a child now, but I also found myself relieved that I wouldn’t be forced to pretend I knew what the hell I was doing.

  I touched my cheek and ran my fingers along the smooth skin. She hadn’t said anything about just how smooth my skin was. Did she even notice? Would she eventually notice? My eyes fell to my chest, also smooth, and my fingers rested over my heartbeat. If she continued to see me, and she’d asked me out again so a second date seemed certain, would she eventually place her hand over my heart? Would it feel any different to her?

  I’d never felt anyone else’s heartbeat.

  Part of me realized my heart was entirely organic and there was no reason its beat should feel different, yet I couldn’t shake the suspicion it somehow wasn’t quite right. There was nothing right about being able to heal exponentially faster than ordinary humans. There was nothing right about my apparent inability to get sick. No one at The Genesis Project would talk to me about this though. Whatever they’d done to me remained a secret.

  That buzzing sensation filled my head and I grimaced and closed my eyes.

  Go to Cade’s apartment and get him then go to base immediately. Report to Admiral Borowitz. You have one hour.

  The buzzing sensation vanished and I opened my eyes and shot a disgusted glance at my reflection before grabbing my clothes and obeying the command in my mind.

  Chapter 5

  I looked out the window of the airplane as we descended over Incirlik Air Base. I’d flown into this base forty-three times, but I always watched as we descended anyway. I’d never seen much of Turkey outside of this base. We usually boarded a helicopter soon after landing here, and I always held onto the irrational hope that I’d be able to see something different as our plane dropped lower to the ground.

  I’d never flown into one of the German bases, but I’d read about them. I secretly wished one day we’d be sent to one of those bases and allowed a few days to explore the area before being shipped back to Virginia. I wanted to visit Stuttgart the most, but I’d never even told Cade about my secret wish. After all, I’d only recently learned he already knew I had my own wishes.

  As the plane touched down, Cade flipped his magazine closed and nudged my arm. “Raining,” he said. “Probably won’t delay us, but just in case, did you bring something to do?”

  I shook my head. “Didn’t have time. I got dressed and grabbed you like I’d been ordered.”

  Another member of our team glanced in our direction, a hard glance at me, but as always, he didn’t speak to me.

  Few SEALs who knew what I am ever spoke to me.

  “We’ll get you a book or something at the Commissary if we’re delayed then,” Cade offered.

  “It’s not raining that hard,” I told him. “And we’re not going that far.”

  Cade just shrugged. “We get delayed for all sorts of stupid shit, Drake. You know that.”

  “Stupid shit, sure,” I agreed. “But that’s almost always stupid shit we know nothing about. Rain would be too obvious. They won’t delay us just for that reason.”

  Cade snickered and nodded. “True.”

  The same man glared at me again and as soon as I met his eyes, he looked away and stood up to grab his bags from the compartment above him.

  Cade exhaled heavily and asked him, “Phillips, what the hell’s your problem?”

  Phillips didn’t bother looking at either of us. “One of these days, that thing is going to malfunction and I’d rather not have my goddamn head blown off because some people think we should be replaced by machines.” He pulled his bag over his shoulder and edged toward the front of the plane.

  Cade grunted at his back then told me, “Ignore him. He’s just an asshole.”

  I shrugged it off and tried to pretend like Phillips’ outburst didn’t bother me, but of course it did, not so much because I was offended by what he’d said, but the possibility of malfunctioning had never occurred to me. Was it possible for me to lose control of myself? For the men back at The Genesis Project to lose their ability to control me? I’d fantasized about the latter scenario and having a few rare, precious hours alone in my own body, but I’d always assumed I’d still be me.

  But Phillips made me question whether that would be possible after all.

  I grabbed my own bag and followed Cade off the plane. The rain pelted my exposed skin and we ran toward the hangar where the bird was waiting to take us out of Turkey. As soon as I stepped inside, the rest of the team stopped talking and a guy standing by Phillips, another man who was always addressed by his last name, tossed me a towel but didn’t look in my direction.

  I harbored a deep suspicion they actually had nicknames for each other but refused to use them in my presence for some reason. Perhaps it would have made me seem too much like one of them. If I were right, Cade never bothered to tell me anyway. But I’d once overheard them calling the guy who tossed me the towel Mutt, even though I couldn’t imagine why he’d tolerate a nickname based on a dog’s breed.

  Instead, every time I approached, they called him Ramirez just as
they called Phillips by his last name and Cade by his.

  I was the only one who didn’t go by a surname because I didn’t have one.

  I ran the towel over my face and the back of my neck, but our clothes had gotten soaked. A man opened a door on the far wall and shouted at us to go change into our gear. We were leaving in fifteen minutes.

  I followed Cade again, this time to the same door the man had just stepped through, and down a long hallway. Ramirez pushed a door open and the rest of the group entered a locker room. I let the others enter first because I didn’t want to go into the locker room with them. I dreaded undressing in front of the others. I always got the same strange looks, like if they just caught me at the right moment, they would be able to see the inhuman parts of me and they could finally see, once and for all, that I’m completely, utterly, hopelessly different.

  Cade motioned for me to hurry up and muttered something about me needing a tune-up. I flipped him off and tossed my bag into the corner of the room where I could change quickly and out of sight of the others. I kept my back to them as I pulled on dry clothes and strapped on my gear then pretended I didn’t notice the others watching me as I left the locker room to wait for Cade in the hall.

  I was about to climb into the Blackhawk when that annoying buzzing sensation warned me someone was about to interfere with my original directive. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists and I heard Cade sighing beside me. He waited silently because he’d witnessed this hundreds of times before.

  Lost visual on target. Small group left behind. Proceed as planned then await directions for new location.

  I sucked in a quick hissing breath and opened my eyes.

  “What now?” Cade asked.

  “He’s gone. But they want us to take out whomever he left behind.”

  Cade shrugged and stepped closer to the helicopter so he could climb aboard. “Cade,” I said. “They don’t know who’s in there. What if they’re…?”