Chapter 1
Jason Burke bolted upright in his bed and scanned the room. All was as he had left it and everything appeared as it should; dark and quiet. He was sweating profusely and his hands were clenched into fists. As he forced himself to breathe slow, regular breaths, his heart rate began to drop and he slowly calmed himself. Another nightmare. That was the only explanation as to why he was in such a state. They had been becoming less and less frequent as time passed, but every once in awhile he would still be violently awakened by ghosts from his past.
He knew it was of no use trying to get back to sleep, so he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, groaning softly as he stood up. He padded across the bedroom and into the bathroom, his feet making no noise on the rough hewn wood floor. He flipped on the light and splashed some water onto his face to clear his head. He gasped slightly as the icy water hit his skin, this far up in the mountains the well water was still very cold in early May. He looked up and stared at the man looking back at him in the mirror. That man had a fairly plain face, not overly handsome, but certainly not unattractive. An unruly crop of coarse, dark hair stuck out in places and looked like it hadn't been cut in months. There was three days worth of beard growth that covered mildly weathered skin that bespoke of long durations in harsh environments and gave the twenty-six year old the appearance of someone a bit older. The light blue, almost grey eyes stared back with an intensity that made him seem standoffish to strangers, and yet there was a vulnerability there that few saw, and a sadness as well.
Jason shook his head in disgust, too much introspection was never healthy. He turned the light off and walked back across his bedroom to the window and looked out over the moonlight drenched mountains. The view was breathtaking, but he hardly noticed it. Convinced that a recurring nightmare had been what had woke him, he decided to try and sleep at least a few more hours. He fervently hoped the sheets weren’t too sweaty.
He then became aware of a low, sub-sonic thrum as he sat back on the bed. He stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it furiously, not actually expecting the act to stop the noise, but figured it was worth a try. The sound was more a feeling, but it was growing in intensity. Within the next few minutes he confirmed that the noise was indeed real, and not in his head, as the panes of glass in his bedroom window started to vibrate. Jason stood back up and approached the window as the sensation continued to climb in pitch and volume until it broke into the audible range. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. He dashed out of his bedroom, ran down the stairs, and went to the backdoor that led out onto the rear deck of the cabin. He paused long enough to slip on a leather coat and put on a pair of leather-soled moccasins before opening the door and stepping out into the cold night air.
He stepped to the far rail and craned his head towards where the sound was coming from, listening as the low rumble was now accompanied by a high pitched whine. Just when he thought whatever was making the cabin shake would pass out of his line of sight, a roaring sound made him jump as what looked like a low-flying comet streaked across the night sky and disappeared over the next ridge. He jumped again as the sound of an explosion reached him and the horizon lit up where the object has passed. But unlike an explosion, the sound and light did not dissipate. The incredible roar actually increased and shook the mountain as Jason gripped the deck railing so hard his knuckles turned white.
Then it was over. The silence was deafening and only the moon lit up the night. Jason stood stock still, staring at the spot where the object had disappeared. His breathing was quick and shallow and his eyes scanned the ridgeline for any sign of movement. Something was very wrong. He had caught a glimpse of the object as it had crossed the sky; it was definitely some sort of aircraft and it had been trailing fire and billowing smoke as it screamed over his cabin. But it had been unlike any aircraft he had ever seen or heard of, even from his time in the military. His instincts told him that this was no ordinary aviation mishap. The long duration of the explosive roar after the craft had flown over was simply not consistent with an aircraft impacting the ground and exploding.
Jason ran back into his cabin and picked up the land line, his cell phone was useless this far up in the mountains, and was greeted by more silence. The line was dead. With only a moments hesitation he went upstairs and quickly dressed in old fatigue pants, boots, and pulled a hoodie sweatshirt over his t-shirt. The night was cold, but he knew he'd be moving fast enough to stay warm without a coat. He hesitated momentarily, then the last thing he grabbed from his bedroom was an AR-15 carbine from the corner of the closet and a loaded 30-round magazine from the top shelf. He knew he may very well be a paranoid fool, but something about this didn't sit well with him and the weapon gave him a sense of security.