Page 2 of A.I.AM.

Ten years he’d spent working for Army Intelligence and then was recruited by the agency. Fifteen missions in two years. But number sixteen is what left him in the chair.

“It’s all routine,” said his section chief. “Get in, get the target out alive, and we’re all going home.”

But they lied. It wasn’t that easy. He’d walked into a trap. His three teammates were dead before he felt the blood trickling down his arm. It hung loosely, literally by the tendons at his side. When he tried to crawl away, they backed over his legs.

Of all the stupid things to think about, he lay there dying wondering if he’d ever get hard again. He wouldn’t. Nerves damaged. Blockages. Critical health issues. The excuses and list went on and on.

He thought he’d found the woman that would stay by his side. Sweet, innocent, a second-grade teacher. She didn’t ask about his work or his bank account. She was willing to do anything in the bedroom. Anything. Her innocence was all surface level. She was a wildcat.

The day she walked into his hospital room, she stared at him and at the place where his arm used to be.

“They said you won’t ever walk again,” she said calmly.

“I won’t,” he said swallowing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t sign up for this.” She turned and walked out the door, the soft sounds of her loafers on the tile floor echoing in his head. She was the first one he killed.

Released from the hospital, he had no one to help him at home. The VA had assigned a visiting nurse, a male, but he only came every-other-day. But he called her one night, begging her to at least bring him some food.

She did.

She showed up in a miniskirt that would have made a prostitute blush. She had so much make-up on, he hardly recognized her.

“Wh-why do you look like that?” he frowned.

“You weren’t the only one with secrets,” she grinned. She set the bag with the burger and fries on the counter and turned to leave. He blocked the door. She never expected that he could kill her with all his injuries.

She was wrong.

“Approximate time remaining is seventeen hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifty-one seconds.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Hey, Dad?” called AJ to his father, Ace.

Ace was a genius, on the spectrum and a bit of a loner and odd duck at times. His wife, Charilie, the well-known author, was the only person he could stand to touch continuously.

AJ inherited his father’s genius but nothing else. He loved talking and touching others, in friendly ways. But their mutual love of all things electronics, computer, and securities, kept the father and son close.

“What’s up?” asked Ace.

“Something weird is happening and we can’t put our fingers on it,” said AJ. “Every time we enter a search in the computer it’s telling us that the search has been completed but it’s not giving us data.”

Ace frowned at his son, looking over his shoulder at the computer screens. Hiro, Tanner, and AJ sat side-by-side in the communications room. Ace saw it when no one else would have. It was just a slight glitch, a small blur of the words on the page. Something, or someone was manipulating things on the other end.

“There,” whispered Ace. “Something strange is happening. Sly? Get Code and Pigsty.”

Sylvester DiMarco nodded. Better known as Sly, he, Code, and Pigsty were the original comms and tech team for REAPER. They were all bonafide geniuses with IQ’s most people couldn’t comprehend. The new generation with Tanner, Hiro, Hayes, and AJ were not far behind.

“What’s up?” asked Pigsty walking into the room.

“Look at this,” said Ace. Pigsty took a seat as the others came in, doing the same, staring at the screen.

“I see it,” whispered Sly. “What the fuck is that?”

“I’m not sure but it’s gathering data,” said Ace. “It’s gathering and storing everything.”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Tanner. “It’s gathering the data as we ask the questions?”