For his own part, Frank’s mental training was fine — they had him doing memory games and number puzzles to keep him sharp, which was a perfectly decent way to spend the afternoon. Trying to mine his past experiences was something else entirely. They gathered a lot of information on the folks who died around him and tried to test him on it — who was so-and-so’s brother, where did this guy go to school, what color was her favorite dress. Try as he might, he never had answers to those specific questions unless he had specifically focused on it during the… transfer, for want of a better word. Transfer of memories. Of lives.
He’d been able to choose what memories and talents to take the last few times before he came to Area 51. But it seemed that he wasn’t getting any more information than the specific topics he chose. And when he didn’t choose, he just got random stuff. Maybe it was what the deceased wanted to be remembered for, or what was on their mind in their last moments — or even what they wanted to give him. He had no idea, really, how it worked. And he accessed the memories not as his own but as if the deceased who had the memories or talents were there with him, speaking right in his ear, telling him what to do or drawing his attention to a specific matter.
So, when he’d train on his individual talents — engaging in tactical simulations, fixing a car, et cetera — Frank could hear them whispering. The left flank is vulnerable. That crankshaft is bent. Put pressure on the wound before you do anything else.
There were now ten people in his head… and counting. The scientists were monitoring hospitals in Nevada and Arizona for more potential “test subjects,” and they had a small plane standing by to rush him to some poor sap’s bedside if the opportunity arose. He’d been excited at the prospect at first, until Anderson told him he’d be blindfolded and earplugged each time he left the base and until they landed or arrived at their destination. Whatever they had going on at the rest of Area 51, Frank definitely wasn’t cleared for it.
He’d taken to writing down details of the individuals he transferred, keeping them in a little book. Frank had been able to get some biographical details and would occasionally try to engage them in conversation. That didn’t work, though; the voices would only tell him about the skills or memories he’d focused on during the transfer. But Frank thought it was important to try anyway. Just as he once felt responsible for his squad, he now felt a certain duty to the memory of the people he’d sat with as they died.
There were definitely days Frank wished he had a different Enhancement. Most days, in fact. At least the exercise and the memory games helped Frank clear his head and focus on himself rather than the dead.
The others really didn’t see their abilities as burdens, from what Frank could tell. Ellis, in particular, loved the thought of being a superhero, which Frank took as evidence that Ellis needed to stay away from the Sunday funnies for a while. Cal saw his as a blessing from God, and it wasn’t for Frank to say whether he was right or wrong there. Maggie seemed to be resigned to the whole thing, though she admitted that she didn’t see it as a curse the way she used to. She even seemed mildly amused by it occasionally.
Frank had been out of the Army a while, but despite his best, selfish intentions, he caught himself thinking of the others as “his” team. Maybe that was the point, maybe that was exactly what Danny was banking on, but for whatever reason, he had a kind of paternal thing going. It was annoying, frankly, but he figured he’d better at least keep an eye on the others, since he was the only one with any real military experience.
Overall, the Variants were well treated, except if Anderson felt they were slacking in training, of course. Then it was an extra set of push-ups or a lap around the inside perimeter — a mile-long perimeter, conveniently enough. And every now and then, Frank would catch Anderson looking at one of them in a funny way. What did he think of them? What did anyone think of them? Hard to say. He wasn’t even sure these days what to think of himself.
Frank’s thoughts snapped back to the run as he lapped Cal, who was taking it at a walk. Without brennivín, Beaujolais, or beer, the training was the only mood-altering substance he could manage, but he had to admit, it felt good. He stopped at the finish line and turned to find Maggie less than twenty-five yards away. “Not bad,” he said after she finished.
She bent over at the waist and worked to catch her breath. “We better be ready if and when they call us up.”
“My gut says that’ll be happening sooner rather than later,” he said quietly. “My quarters, 1900 hours. Tell Ellis; I’ll tell Cal.”
Maggie gave him a quizzical look and grinned mischievously. “Sounds like you’re plotting an unsanctioned meeting.”
Frank shrugged. “They want us to be spies? Let’s be spies. Don’t everyone show up all at once — stagger it so the guards just think you’re going for a walk.” He jogged off before she could reply, knowing he already had her.
Sure as shit, everyone showed up starting a few minutes before seven. Frank ushered each of them into his small quarters — a twelve-by-twelve with a bunk, a desk, a chair, and a dresser — and offered them seats. Cal was given the chair for his old bones, leaving Maggie and Ellis to perch on the bed while Frank leaned against the back of the door. The room was lit with an overhead bulb and a little lamp on the table, leaving much of the room bathed in the dusky, slightly ominous light of the sunset coming through the window.
It seemed fitting.
“So we’re all briefed up,” Frank began. “They want us to be useful to the military, to this new Central Intelligence Agency. It’s all top secret; that’s what they keep saying. Anybody curious about knowing more?”
Maggie nodded. Ellis looked a little suspicious. But Cal spoke up first. “What’s there to know, Mr. Lodge? They’re training us, helping us with our Enhancements. Miracles, I say. Anyway, they’re training us and taking good care of us. And we get to help our country.”
“I told you, Cal, call me Frank.”
Cal chuckled and put his hands up, as if to say he gave up. “Southern manners. Been with me so long that they’ve turned into a hard habit to break.”
“Well, you’re right; we could be getting treated a lot worse,” Frank continued. “But this is a big valley, and when the air’s clear and the light’s right, I can see a couple other outposts along the lakebed. There’s a big one in the center. Seems like there’s at least one big building there, maybe a hangar or something. What’s in there? What do they have going? And I think there’s another smaller base further north and west, but it’s hard to tell. I’d love to get some binoculars.”
Maggie nodded again. “I can get those,” she said. “Maybe get a guard to lend me his.”
“How you gonna do that, if I may?” Ellis drawled. “You gonna make the poor boy piss himself again?”
She just smirked. “Believe it or not, I don’t need this thing in my head to bat my eyelashes at a guy. I’m probably the only woman in a hundred miles of here.”
“Good. Let’s keep this short before we get a knock on the door here,” Frank said. “Maggie gets some binoculars, hopefully to keep a while. Ellis, I heard you talking about poker with Smitty the other day, yeah?”