Prologue
Elan Rising Club
Hud Girard
Seeing Zeke at the bar, I walk that way surprised he’s alone while the bar is jam-packed with trainees.
“Boss,” I hope I’m not bugging him but the Little President kid measured me with and without the c-spring while peppering me with enough questions to fill a book for him and his little helper. The c-spring is the prosthetic that isn’t a foot or anything but a piece of metal that’s shaped like a c. You can’t put a shoe on it, the only pants that fit over it are well before my time and look stupid, so it works best with shorts that don’t work for a real job. I picked it first to get used to it for the training I’d be able to do. They didn’t mention that I’d need to schedule at the VA for three months away. Cancer wasn’t waiting for me to get a pretty foot. Jeff was more important so I stuck with what looks like a part from a car’s suspension. Saying what I would prefer, how I felt about the shin and foot prosthetics is just not me. Listing everything I want to do with something that looks more natural are not conversations I enjoy. While my words don’t come easy, the little guys didn’t quit. I’m sure that’s the cause of the migraine that’s forming behind my eyes. A dark room with no noise may stave it off, but that’s not in the cards for me tonight.
The President turns fast. “I can help if you want it.”
The freaky sure as hellisdefinitely freaky. His lips never move but I hear his voice clear. I thought the kids I met at the Club in Virginia topped that spot, I was seriously wrong, the magic here can’t be outdone and isn’t plugged in to a computer. I nod permission to the baby blue eyed magic Indian that is mynew President while training.
“As soon as I touch you, I’ll read what I try to block without touch.” He admits honestly.
I take one deep breath and feel the pounding of my heart in my head and know it’s going to be a bad one. I throw him chin for the honesty and respect. He’s not spreading my life around and everything I did in the military was ordered. “Yeah, I don’t give a shit.” My voice comes out rough from lack of use and maybe the headache that’s building.
“On the deck it’s not so loud.” He points toward the side door instead of the back.
I nod and follow him out with the start of a deeper ache in my missing shin and foot. It’s dark and quieter out here with the bright back light and Brothers horseshoe game muted by the building.
“Sit, no one will bother us.”
I do and hope he’s right, then think he will make sure of it. His hand touches my arm and I'm lulled into some kind of tranquil state. It’s not unpleasant but odd because I’ve had every known pain management, therapy and chemical on earth and this isn’t that. Warmth seeps in and works its way through me with just his hand on my arm.
“Pres, Cort has a job,” the VP says from right behind me.
Jesus, my eyes open pretty fuckin’ quick.
“Relax, Brother. Pablo, stay and answer his questions.”
Zeke is gone before my eyes adjust.
The VP sits. “You feeling better?”
“No pain but surprised I didn’t clock you behind me.”
“Rattled. Did you come in for him to heal you?”
“No, the little President said to bring my questions to President Zeke. When I came in, he knew and said he could fix my migraine.”
“What are your questions?” The VP is a Protector anddoesn’t mince words or force me to detail shit men don’t like talking about.
I nod. Not feeling the tension in my neck. “Why am I fast tracked when I’m in a class of SWAT.”
“You’re a military officer that has a pristine record. The Alpha-Bits pulled classified and you fit for high profile jobs. We need that quicker than Ari and Citiali can do. You’ll get a week more here and a week with Ari explaining what he calls VIP packages and some history on the CIA shit. Readers will show to read and log you on the LS board. Mucimi and Citiali do the future shit so they’ll climb in your head without you knowing.” His tone says this is normal for him.
“CIA wasn’t part of my job. We avoided more than noting their movement close to us.” I’m not working CIA anything and wonder what this is all about. Virginia Badass hates the CIA so I signed in to training there. The Florida Club burned down years ago and Sam or Sawbones, as he’s called now, was in medical school close by.
“They grew the Alpha-Bits and some K-9s, then experimented on both with chips, injections and whatever else they could fuck them up with. They’ll give you what you need. LP will answer if you ask. He has sheets he can send.”
I nod relieved they aren’t in with CIA. “The Little President said I’d have the new robotic. Do I need that before I start the job coming up for me?”
He watches the sky putting me at ease. “You beat more than half the SWAT here. You don’t need it to start but you’ll have it before your first Protector shift.”
That’s good to know. “When is that?”
He smiles looking my way. “Got no clue. They don’t tell me much but if you will be needed, the freaky Protectors will have you ready for that day. It’s not a guess, I’ve been here long enough to say it’s always the way it happens now.”
