Chapter 1 Gehenna #2
Unlike on many bases where military personnel lived both on and off base and used the local city’s services, at Area 67 some unknown amount of people arrived on base, but never left it.
They were working on such secret projects that they had to work, sleep and eat on base.
Jace didn’t bother asking his parents if the rumor was true or what kind of projects would require such dedication.
They would never answer him and betray the country they both served and loved so much. But still, Jace wondered.
He rubbed his face with both hands, still feeling slightly foggy.
Whenever he had these dreams, when he woke up he felt like he’d left part of himself behind.
He’d been having these dreams for years, but only in the past six months had he decided to turn them into a novel or maybe even a series of novels.
His unconscious mind must have liked that idea, because the dreams were coming to him more often and with greater detail.
He blindly reached for the notebook and pen on his nightstand.
He had to write down everything he remembered before wakefulness washed it away.
He certainly didn’t want to forget that the ship’s AI was named “Hell” for all intents and purposes.
It amused him no end. He wondered why his unconscious mind had decided on that.
Was it because the AI would later be shown to be a villain?
Maybe the true assimilation would come not from the Khul but from the Precursor technology that would mind meld with every human it could and turn them into pilots and not people.
But he didn’t like that idea. It felt wrong to him.
He was sure that in the story he was writing that the AI was trustworthy and his ally.
He had learned to trust his gut instincts about what the story needed.
As he scribbled down the details in the notebook, he thought he would have to maybe change the AI’s name so people didn’t get the wrong idea, not even as a red herring. But that, oddly, felt wrong too as if the name “Gehenna” was right and had to stay.
Jace frowned at his unconscious mind’s stubbornness about this.
Just because he dreamed something, it didn’t mean the story had to be the exact copy of the dream.
Yet his fingers slowed as he tried to write down alternative names for the AI.
None appeared. His forehead furrowed and he felt the beginning throb of a migraine behind his eyes.
He quickly smoothed out his forehead and the pain retreated a little, but not much.
No, no, no, not today, he pleaded. I promised Walter I would man the store all day today so he could go to his granddaughter’s birthday party. I’m not taking that away from him.
Jace set the notebook back on his cluttered nightstand, knocking over a few books including a pile of The Expanse series.
He grimaced as they fell to the floor and wedged between the wall and the nightstand.
Getting down on the ground and fishing them out would likely just increase the pressure in his head that was already growing.
He had to do everything he could to keep the migraine at bay so the books would remain there.
He carefully got up and padded over to his desk.
His medicine was in the right pants pocket of the jeans he wore yesterday.
He fished out the orange bottle and unscrewed the white top before popping a large gray pill in his mouth and dry-swallowing it.
The medication didn’t have a name. It also didn’t come from a pharmacy, but was formulated by a group of doctors on base for him.
The reason why was that nothing else worked and the reason for that was…
“They think it was something I was exposed to on base when I was pregnant with you,” his mother had told him several years ago, her head downcast, her eyes not meeting his.
He had been almost glad she couldn’t see his eyes. He hated the guilt in them. It was unwarranted. She loved him and would die for him. There was no way she had done something that would knowingly harm him.
He jammed the bottle back into his jeans pocket.
He’d been wearing these today anyways in case he needed another pill later.
The pants were his favorites. They were soft and worn in all the right places with a bunch of patches he’d sewn on when the tears had gone from “cool” to a little too revealing.
He grabbed them and a faded lime green t-shirt off the back of the chair.
He sniffed the t-shirt. It didn’t smell of sweat or laundry detergent.
His migraines could be triggered by anything really, but strong smells were thought to be a factor though he honestly couldn’t say that was true.
Or rather, there were only certain scents that would trigger him, but they weren’t the faint floral or ocean breeze smells that were found in laundry detergent.
It was often the smell of ozone that did it.
One whiff of that electric, bitter scent and his vision would flash black as if the Matrix were failing and he was seeing the “real” world, for a moment.
But instead, his vision would come back and his head would merely throb.
Auras would swirl around objects and the high-pitched ringing of tinnitus would be in his ears.
He’d avoid that scent like the plague today.
A pair of clean boxer briefs and white socks completed what he needed to get dressed. He would get ready in the bathroom after a shower. He went to his closed bedroom door and paused. His gaze swung to the black Ray Ban sunglasses sitting on the edge of his desk.
Wearing them inside would be a dead giveaway to his parents that he was already suffering from a migraine and they would insist he stay home.
He might be twenty-four-years-old, but they still worried about his fragile health.
He gritted his teeth just thinking about it.
Though he didn’t blame his mother for his conditions, he hated that he was so brittle.
Daily living was a stretch for him most times.
He wasn’t sure how he was ever going to get a job that could support him.
Forget about his dreams of being a pilot like his father--let alone a spaceship pilot like in my real dreams--he was lucky that Walter was willing to give him some shifts at his combo book-movie-convenience store.
But Walter was getting up there in years and even businesses in Sunrise, Arizona were feeling the pinch.
So how long would Walter remain open? And who else would tolerate Jace’s significant absenteeism and other requirements like dim lights?
He doubted anyone and a flare of panic filled him like it often did these days when he thought of the future.
But he pushed it down. Maybe the doctors at the base would find some tweak to the medicine that would fix him.
Maybe he would be able to parlay his story into something that could make money.
Yeah, right. Do I think I’m going to self-publish my book and become Richard Castle overnight?
He shook his head, which was as much a mistake as furrowing his brow as the pain of the migraine seemed to slosh around in his skull.
He stopped the movement and held himself very still before picking up the sunglasses and firmly putting them on.
He was glad he had because the moment he opened his bedroom door, the bright clear light of an Arizona morning blinded him as the big windows at the end of the hall didn’t have their shades drawn as they normally did.
Keeping his head down, he dashed halfway down the hall and zipped into the bathroom.
He heard his parents talking together at the end of the hall where the kitchen was.
Neither of them had seen the sunglasses.
He sagged against the back of the bathroom door for a moment.
He caught sight of himself out of the corner of his eye in the bathroom mirror. He turned his head and nearly laughed.
His dark brown hair was sticking up in every direction from sleep.
His gray eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, but his thick, expressive eyebrows lifted in amusement.
He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones.
His olive toned skin looked even darker due to the sunglasses.
He was reminded of Tom Cruise in Risky Business when the actor had danced in his underwear and sunglasses.
He was in nearly the same outfit. Not quite as cool though.
That caused a grin to light his face. The grinning hurt too. He sighed and let his face relax.
The medicine will kick in soon. It will be okay. You’ll be fine.
He forced himself to get ready. With only the frosted small window in the bathroom for light, he was able to take off the sunglasses to brush his teeth, shave and shower before dressing quickly.
He, again, toyed with the idea of not putting the sunglasses on when he exited the bathroom.
His headache was a dull throb at the base of his skull now.
The tinnitus, too, was just a low ringing in his ears.
If he was careful, things might remain this way: manageable.
He slid the sunglasses on and popped his head out of the bathroom.
The shades to the windows in the kitchen and eating nook were now closed. They had realized he was awake.
They’re forced to live in darkness because of me, he thought bitterly.
But he was grateful for the lack of light. He took the sunglasses off and hooked one arm over the neck of his t-shirt. He then strode down the hallway to grab some food before taking off to work on his bike.