Allow me to apologize again for Roths behavior. He motioned Zac to a seat.
What the hell was that all about? Zac demanded.
Distaste flickered across Von Meters face. Youre referring to the gun.
And the slamming door. Howd you manage that little trick?
It wasnt a trick. Roth is a very gifted telekinetic.
A telekinetic, huh? And here I thought he was just your everyday asshole.
He is temperamental, Ill grant you that. Impulsive. Insubordinate. Ambitious. A loose cannon, I believe is the term used these days. Von Meter sighed. But he has his uses.
Forget about Vogel, Zac said bluntly. What do you want from me?
I want to help you, Von Meter replied. You want to know about your past. I can supply the missing details. But first, I need to know what you do remember.
Why?
How would I know where to begin, otherwise?
Zac supposed the explanation was logical enough, but he still didnt trust the old man. I dont remember much, he admitted reluctantly. My parents died when I was just a kid. I was raised in a series of foster homes until I turned eighteen. After I left the system, I drifted for a while, then joined the navy. Eventually, I ended up working in the intelligence community before I was recruited into a classified special ops program, code name Phoenix.
When he paused, Von Meter nodded encouragingly. Please go on.
The training was conducted in a series of underground bunkers at the old Montauk Air Force Station on Long Island. I remember very little about my time there or the missions we carried out, but I do recall being on board a submarine at some point. There was an accident. Some kind of explosion. We crash-dove to the bottom of the North Atlantic where we were trapped for days. Most of the crew died. A hundred and something men. I think there were other survivors besides me, but I never saw them. I spent weeks in the hospital where I was subjected to long periods of isolation and rigorous debriefing sessions. After a while, I lost track of time and the details of the accident began to fade. Some days I had a hard time remembering my own name. He paused as the feelings of loneliness and confusion washed over him once again. Then he shrugged them away. Thats about it. I was later discharged from the navy.
They said you were mentally unfit to serve.
Zac got up and walked over to the window to stare out at the snow. The discharge still rankled five years later.
Von Meter spoke from behind him. You mentioned something about Project Phoenix. It was, and is, an operation much larger in scope than a special ops program.
Zac turned from the window. Something the old man said rang a bell. How so?
Project Phoenix is a privately funded, covert organization comprised of scientists, military personnel, and leaders from business and technologysome of the finest minds in the world. The advances weve made in psychotronics, telekinetic studies and interdimensional phasing, just to name a few, are far more vast and intricate than most people could even begin to imagine.
Zac wondered if he was dealing with a lucid mind here. The things the old man spoke of were impossible. And yetsomething inside him warned that Von Meter spoke the truth. And that truth was somehow directly related to Zac. That was why he was here.
He studied the old man for a moment, trying to gauge his sanity. Even if what you say is true, what does any of that have to do with me?
The goal of Project Phoenix was to create an army of secret warriorssuper soldiers if you willwith psionic abilities. Once their training was complete, their memories were erased and they were sent back home or back out into society until such time as they were needed. Thats why youre here, Zac. You are being called back into service.
Wait a minute. Zacs pulse jumped in spite of himself. Are you saying Im one of thesesuper soldiers? When the old man nodded, Zac laughed, but the sound seemed hollow even to him. Obviously, youve got the wrong man, doc. If I had any special abilities, psionic or otherwise, I wouldnt be working in a dump like Blue Mondays. And I sure as hell wouldnt be here.
But you do possess a special skill, Von Meter assured him. One that makes you uniquely qualified for the mission on which you are about to embark.
Mission? Uh, no. I dont think so. Sorry, old man. I dont take orders anymore, not from you or anyone else. And even if I did, you havent said one single thing to convince me you arent running some kind of con here. My guess is you need a patsy, but Im not as desperate or as stupid as you seem to think. And, as far as this mission of yours is concerned, Im not going anywhere but home.
He started to rise, but Von Meters gruff voice halted him. Wait. Just hear me out a moment longer. If you still want to leave after Im finished, then you can do so with my blessing.
Zac didnt really care whether he had the old mans blessing or not, but seeing as how he didnt have anywhere else to go on a cold, blustery night in Philadelphia, he sat back down. If nothing else, Von Meters charade could get interesting.
Have you ever heard of something called the Philadelphia Experiment?
Zac nodded. Yeah. Its a bar on South Street.
The old man waved an impatient hand. Im not talking about a bar. Im talking about an event. The disappearance of a U.S. warship back in 1943.
Zac eyed the old man with skepticism. I know what youre talking about. But the Philadelphia Experiment is a myth. An urban legend based on the navys experiments during the war with electromagnetic fields. Scientists were trying to find a way to make ships invisible to enemy mines by demagnetizing the hulls, but according to the legend, what they achieved instead was visual stealth. Optical invisibility. Whatever you want to call it. That sound about right?
Von Meter nodded eagerly. Yes, precisely. But what if I were to tell you that the Philadelphia Experiment is more than a legend? He leaned forward, his eyes lit with an uncanny glow. What if I were to tell you that the powerful magnetic fields created by the specially designed generators installed on that ship somehow ripped a hole in the space-time continuum? What if I were to tell you the ship didnt become invisible? It entered another dimension. It traveled forward in time, and when it came back, it left something in its wake.
Tingles stole up and down Zacs spine as he gazed at Von Meter. What are you talking about?
Im talking about a secret passage. A time tunnel, if you will. A wormhole that links the present to the past. To 1943 to be precise. The old mans smile deepened Zacs chill. Weve found it, you see. We know the location of the wormhole, and we have every intention of sending someone through it. Someone who is uniquely qualified for such a mission. That someoneis you, Zac.
Chapter Two
She dreamed that Adam was still alive. The vision seemed so real, it was as if that day in the park had never happened.
But even in her sleep, Camille knew it wasnt real. Adam was dead, and no amount of wishful thinking was ever going to bring him back.
But his voice She could still hear it in her sleep.
Mom, can you really teach me how to play baseball? he was asking her.
Mom, can you really teach me how to play baseball? he was asking her.
In her dream, Camille grinned down at him, her heart swelling with love. You bet I can. Ill teach you just like my mother taught me.
Why didnt your dad teach you?
Because my dad died when I was little. You know that, Adam. Weve talked about it before.
Did my dad die, too? he asked solemnly. Is that why hes not here to play baseball with me?
How was she supposed to answer that question, Camille wondered sadly, when the truth was something she still hadnt come to terms with herself? Adams father wasnt dead. He simplydidnt remember them.
Luckily, the child suddenly became distracted by something else, and he let the matter drop. Mom, why is that man watching us?
Startled, she glanced up. What man?
That man over there. Adam was holding her hand, and his grasp tightened almost imperceptibly, as if he somehow sensed danger.
Camille followed her sons gaze. About thirty feet from the path, a man stood in the shade of an elm tree. Sunglasses obscured his eyes, but she could tell that he was staring at them.
A chill ran up her spine. There was somethingunnerving about the way he watched them. As ifhe knew them.
Camille was certain shed never seen him before. She would have remembered. He had a striking appearance, the kind you didnt forget. Dressed all in black, he was tall and thin, with silvery-blond hair combed straight back from his face.
Camille shivered again. She and Adam had purposely drifted away from the more populated area of the park so that they would have plenty of room to play pitch without worrying about stray balls hitting toddlers. She suddenly found herself wishing they hadnt wandered quite so far away from the swing sets, jungle gyms and mothers pushing babies in strollers.
Adam, maybe we should go back
No, Mom, please. He squinted up at her. You promised youd teach me today. Cant we just stay for a little while? Please? Pretty please?
It wasnt in her sons nature to remain obstinate for long. If they left now, hed soon get over his disappointment. He was an easygoing child. Loving and affectionate although, like his father, he had a bit of devilment lurking in those dark, soulful eyes. Eyes that could melt her heart with just once glance. And when he gave her that lookas he was nowshe didnt stand a chance.
Okay, just a few pitches, Camille relented, her gaze moving back to the stranger. Surely he meant them no harm. They were still within shouting distance of the playground, and they were visible from the street. It was broad daylight, a beautiful summers afternoon. What could possibly happen?
She spent a few minutes showing Adam how to hold the ball. Your hands are too small now to grip across the seams, but well work on that as you get older. Right now, just try to get the ball out on your fingertips. See? Like this. She demonstrated the technique. And keep your wrist loose and cocked back. That way you can use it as part of your throwing motion.
After a few more minutes of instruction, she backed up and tossed Adam the ball. Now, throw it to me, son. Just like I showed you.
After a few tries, he was able to get the ball to her with some accuracy and catch it when she threw it back.
I did it, Mom! Did you see me? He jumped up and down in his excitement.
Good job! I knew youd be a natural!
It was true. Hed inherited his fathers athletic prowess along with his dark good looks and innate charisma. Someday hed be a real heartbreaker. Just like his father.
They played for several more minutes. Camille was just about to suggest they head back to the car when her last pitch got away from Adam. The sound of his laughter echoed back to her as he chased after the ball. She laughed, too, at first, enjoying the moment, but then suddenly her breath quickened in alarm.
Something was wrong.
The grass should have slowed the balls momentum, but instead it kept rolling and rolling, always just out of Adams reach. She heard him laugh again as he tried to chase it down.
She must have thrown the ball harder than she meant to. That had to be it.
Adam! Wait! Let me get the ball. Adam!
Out of the corner of her eye, Camille spotted the stranger again. Hed moved into the sun, and now she could see him more clearly. As she watched, he slowly reached up and removed his dark glasses. Camille gasped. There was something odd about his eyes.
A fist of terror closed around her heart. He meant to harm them. She knew that without a doubt. She had to get to Adam. She had to protect him.
But the harder she tried to catch him, the farther away he seemed.
He was almost to the street by now, still chasing the ball. Try as she might, she couldnt reach him.
Adam! She screamed his name, but a sudden gust of wind tore it away. Adam!
The ball rolled into the middle of the street and stopped. Without hesitation, Adam darted after it. He was so focused on the ball that he didnt see the blue sedan roaring down the street toward him.
CAMILLE AWAKENED with her dead sons name on her lips and tears drying on her face. She thought at first the pounding in her head was the echo of her own heartbeat, but then she realized someone was banging on her front door.
Lifting her head, she squinted at the clock. Just after seven. Had she overslept?
Her gaze darted to the window where she could see the sun slipping below the edge of a distant ridge. She sank back in relief. It was evening, not morning. She must have dozed off while listening to the news. The radio was still on, and she could hear the transmission fading in and out. She reached over and snapped off the old Motorola, but it took a moment for the static to die away.
The pounding came again, more desperate this time, and someone shouted her name. She put a hand to her eyes, trying to wipe away the last of the sleep as she swung her legs to the floor. Running a hand through her messy hair, she got up and hurried to the front door.
The dream was still so fresh in her head that when she glanced through the sidelight and saw the little boy standing on her front porch, her initial instinct was to throw open the door and sweep him into her arms, even though she almost immediately recognized him as one of the Clutter children from down the road. He didnt even resemble Adam. Her son had been dark haired while Billy was a freckle-faced redhead.
Camille drew back the door and scowled down at the child. Billy? Whats all the commotion about? Is everything okay
He grabbed her hand and tugged. You gotta come, Miss Camille. Davy says you gotta come right now
Whoa, wait a minute. Come where? Camille felt as if only half her pistons were firing while Billy operated at full throttle. She had a hard time keeping up.
You gotta come to the mine! His voice rose in agitation. Davy says
To the mine? You mean the old deserted coal mine up on the ridge? You boys didnt go up there, did you? That place is dangerous Camille sank to her knees and gripped the boys shoulders. Billy, tell me what happened. Is someone hurt? When he nodded, her stomach lurched. Whos hurt? One of the twins? Donny?
He shook his head, gulping in air as he tried to catch his breath. No, not Donny. Not Davy, either. Its a man. We found him in the mine. Hes croaked and everything, and Davy says hes a German spy probably!