Anomaly : Part 1

*** Chapter 1 : The Arrival

THE PRIMARY purpose of the trip was to kill his brother. His second goal was to take back what had been taken from him.
Caleb Grayson opened his eyes as the airplane touched down onto the runway. The aircraft bounced a little as the wheels connected with the ground; the plane sped down the runway at a startling speed, before slowing down. He glanced over at a middle-aged asian woman sitting in the far seat next to the aisle. Throughout the entire five hour flight from New York City to Oakland, she had been curling and uncurling her hands in nervousness, and holding her breath every time turbulence hit the plane.

I’m so glad we made it here safely, Caleb heard her think. I hate flying.

Caleb smiled to himself. Truthfully, he did not like flying either, not because the thought of being in the air terrified him, but because it was one of the few times he could not completely be in control of his environment. If there was anything he loathed most, was not being in control.

He waited until every other passenger un-boarded the plane, before grabbing his luggage from the overheard compartment, and heading down the very narrow aisle, toward the front of the aircraft.
“Thank-you for flying with us today,” one of the stewardesses named Gabriella said to Caleb. During the length of the flight, she had given him special attention, always seeing if there was anything ‘extra’ that he needed. Caleb scanned her over. She was a few years younger than him, twenty-eight years old. Her black hair was cut short into a `20s bob, her skin had the smooth texture and color of cream, and her firm, round breasts and ass fit perfectly in her navy blue-colored uniform.

Caleb could not remember the last time he had sex. It had to be more than three years ago. Sex was such an irrelevant activity for him. Other than producing an heir, he did not see the value of it, and this woman, as cute as she was, was not powerful enough—important enough, to have his child, so there was no point in entertaining her flimsy infatuation.

“No, thank-you,” Caleb said and smiled. Women loved it when he smiled. He could already feel her heart rate accelerate.
It was not unusual for women to be drawn to Caleb. His physical stature alone was enough to ensnare most people’s interest. But it was also the power that exuded from him that kept them captivated.

“How long will you be staying in the Bay Area?” Gabriella asked.

“A few days.”

“For business? Family?”

This girl was too curious for her own good. Somehow it did not irritate Caleb as much as it should have…not yet anyhow. It was almost amusing to see this frivolous girl fall all over herself for him, despite the fact that she had a boyfriend named Eddie, back in her native home of Queens, New York. The more Caleb looked at her, the more her mind opened up to him. Her thoughts were very easy to penetrate, as other parts of her surely were.

“You can say both actually,” Caleb answered. “It was nice to meet you, Gabriella.”

As straightforward as she was, Gabriella did not have the courage to give him her phone number. Caleb felt glad about that. She had been hoping that he would ask her for her number, but that definitely would not happen. Caleb smiled at her again and began to proceed down the brightly lit corridor to the airport. He felt her eyes watching him as he walked away.

It had been many years since Caleb had last been in the San Francisco Bay Area. He had spent the last five years traveling the world, from London, Hong Kong, Montreal, and the last year and a half spent in New York City. When he had left Oakland, nearly five years to the date, in a state of despair and weakness, Caleb had not planned to return, until he had regained his physical and psychic strength, and until he had concocted a perfect plan to execute his revenge.

Caleb carried his luggage with him, walking in quick strides toward the ground transportation area. He had not been inside of the Oakland International Airport in years, but he remembered the layout as if he had just been there the day before. In fact, as he briskly headed toward the exit, a flurry of memories intruded Caleb’s mind, a majority of them which he successfully managed to suppress for a long time, until now.

Stepping out of the airport’s sliding doors, into a balmy Saturday evening, Caleb gripped the handle of his luggage tightly, exhaled deeply, and tried to keep his nerves intact. It was highly unusual for him to feel any form of anxiety. He was the one used to making others frightened. The only person in the world that Caleb genuinely feared and revered, his father, William Grayson, was dead. Now, Caleb had journeyed from coast to coast, in an attempt to find and annihilate one of the last remaining, but most powerful members of his family: his younger brother, Nathan Grayson.

As he waited for a cab, Caleb contemplated on how he would find Nathan. It would not be easy. Nathan had strong defenses that it would make it highly difficult for Caleb to uncover him and his whereabouts. But as capable and resourceful as Nathan was, Caleb considered himself to be even more so. Caleb caught the attention of a taxi and entered the back of the vehicle. The driver, a Pakistani man in his late thirties, got of the cab, took Caleb’s luggage and put it into the trunk.

“Where are you going, Sir?” the man asked in heavily accented English.

Good question, Caleb thought. He had traveled across the country, knowing that Nathan was somewhere in the vicinity, but not sure exactly where. He thought about the old house, he, Nathan, and their parents used to live in years ago, and wondered if Nathan still lived there. Probably not, Caleb thought. But he figured it would not hurt to still go by there and check for himself, but not tonight.
Caleb entered the cab through the back. “Take me downtown, to the Marriott,” Caleb instructed the driver.

“Yes, sir.”

Instead of starting the search for his brother immediately, Caleb concluded that it would be best if he checked into a hotel, and get a full night of nice, restful sleep. It would be the first time that he really would have the opportunity to sleep in nearly a week. Tomorrow morning, Caleb intended to wake up early, shortly after dawn, fully rejuvenated and ready to put his plan into action.
There would be no way he would fail.

*** Chapter 2 : The Mirror

“YOU SCARED?” Blake Coleman whispered.

Nathan Grayson shook his head, even though that response had been a partial lie. He gripped the armrest on his seat, silently anticipating the moment, when the killer would materialize out of nowhere and slash the victim across the throat. Blake put his hand on Nathan’s knee caressing it gingerly, as Nathan’s breathing shortened, waiting for the inevitable.

The audience shrieked loudly. Nathan nearly popped out of his chair, as a masked murderer emerged from a closet door and ensued to mercilessly stab a teenage girl with a long hunting knife, over and over. After a while, Nathan had to turn his head away from the massive movie screen, almost sick of the explicit violence being portrayed. Nathan looked over at Blake, whose big smile on his handsome face, specified to Nathan that he was thoroughly enjoying this film. From what he could detect from the crowd’s mental energy, everybody else also seemed completely engaged with the movie.

I really don’t see how anyone could like this shit, Nathan thought.

Nathan wondered if Blake had heard that thought. If so, he did not have a reaction to it. Yet, Blake already knew about Nathan’s aversion to horror films, and Slash 2 was no exception. He had reluctantly agreed to see this movie, only because Blake insisted they watch it. Furthermore, since Blake had gone through so much trouble to switch his usual Saturday bartending shift to Sunday evening, so that he and Nathan could have a Saturday night to themselves, Nathan figured the most he could do was sit through a stupid, two hour blood and guts movie, if he could spend time with Blake.

Blake let go of Nathan’s knee and took hold of his hand. The security of Blake’s hand, made Nathan feel warm and comfortable. He did not want Blake to let go of him.

It’s already been three months to the date that we’ve been together, Nathan thought.

This time, Blake must have heard Nathan’s thoughts. He glanced over at Nathan and smiled. Even in the darkness of the theater, Nathan could see the brightness of Blake’s smile.

I love you, Blake projected with his thoughts.

I love you, too, Nathan said.

Nathan looked at the movie screen, just as the masked killer rammed his knife through a man’s eyeball. Nathan grimaced while members of the audience screamed and went “Ooooh!”

Next time, I’m picking the movie, Nathan thought to Blake.

Blake just chuckled and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bucket next to him.

Nathan observed Blake, and briefly questioned why Blake would love him. Tall, with the hard, muscular body of a professional athlete, and the heart of a romantic hero, Blake could attract anyone he wanted. Nathan sometimes pondered why he had been so fortunate to be the object of Blake’s affection. Not that Nathan exactly considered himself inferior to Blake, but where Blake was tall at six feet, Nathan considered himself short at five foot-eight; where Blake had the body of a football player, Nathan had a more lean, runner’s physique. Still, Blake was genuinely attracted to Nathan, and not only just physically. They shared an unbreakable mental connection. They finished each other’s sentences and read each other’s minds—literally. The last three months with Blake had been as close to perfect as perfect could be.

Sometimes though, it felt strange for Nathan to believe he could be loved. His union with Blake seemed so ideal at times that occasionally Nathan wondered if their relationship had been conjured in Nathan’s imagination, a continuous fantasy, which sooner or later would dissolve into nothingness. Despite their deep level of intimacy, Nathan made sure to keep any doubts he may have had about Blake’s affection a secret. That, along with some other aspects of Nathan’s life, remained tucked away in a part of his brain that Blake would not be able to breach.

After watching another twenty minutes more of over-the-top, grotesque death scenes, Nathan found himself needing to go to the bathroom, mostly so because he needed a break from the senselessness of the movie.

Going to the bathroom, right quick, Nathan mentally said to Blake.

You might miss something good, Blake thought back to Nathan.

Nathan rolled his eyes. He already knew how the film would end: The masked killer was the central heroine’s boyfriend. The shocking ‘twist’ was that the heroine’s blonde and seemingly stupid best friend was not only aiding with the killings, but was actually the mastermind of the whole plot. Although, Nathan had used his psychic ability to obtain that information, the movie was so unpleasantly predictable, that any person who had seen enough of these types of films would have figured out what would happen.

Nathan briefly felt tempted to spoil the ending to Blake, but decided against it. He stood and began to make his way to the aisle.
Can you get me a refill on this? Extra butter? Blake sent, handing over his nearly empty bowl of popcorn. For someone in such good shape, Blake typically exhibited bad eating habits. Nathan took the bowl from Blake and headed toward the exit. On the screen, a young woman released a terrified scream, before getting decapitated with an axe.

Oh, God, Nathan thought as he walked out of the large screening room.
The Alameda Theater’s large atrium, designed in ornate, red and gold 1930s décor, was almost entirely empty and eerily quiet. Other than Nathan, the only other person he saw was a young boy, no older than eighteen, dressed in a black vest and a white buttoned-up shirt, tending the concession stand.

Nathan thought it would be better if he went to the bathroom first and then get Blake’s refill afterwards. As he headed to the bathroom, Nathan abruptly got the feeling that he was being watched. The feeling slapped him so hard that he almost dropped the popcorn bowl. Nathan swirled around, checking to see if the concession stand attendant had been staring at him.

No, the boy had not been looking at him at all. He was too busy texting on his cell phone to even notice Nathan.
Maybe it’s the damn movie that’s got me all paranoid, Nathan thought.
Nathan entered the vacant bathroom. The door banged loudly as it shut, causing Nathan to jump a little. He placed the bowl on a small ledge above the sink and went over to the urinal.

The bathroom smelled like a nasty combination of liquid soap and urine. Water dropped persistently into the sink faucet, and the overhead florescent lights buzzed like mechanical bees. As Nathan peed, he heard the bathroom door open and shut again. Whoever walked in, must have been wearing dress shoes, because the footsteps made metallic clicks on the linoleum floor. Nathan did not turn around to see who entered, but he listened as the man entered one of the stalls and locked it behind him.

Something odd occurred at that moment: everything went quiet. The water dripping from the faucet into the sink stopped making noise; the florescent lights stopped humming. When Nathan flushed the urinal, it made no sound. Additionally, the atmosphere suddenly changed. The air thickened and grew inexplicably colder. This person who had just entered the bathroom had caused this change. Nathan stepped away from the urinal and turned in the direction of the row of toilet stalls lining the back wall. All of the five toilet stalls were slightly ajar, except for the one in the center. Nathan lowered his gaze toward the ground to see if he could see the person’s shoes.

He saw nothing.

Certainly, Nathan knew that he heard someone enter the bathroom and enter one of the stalls. He wished he had turned and seen the person when he had the chance.

But where the hell is he now? Nathan pondered. Standing on top of the toilet?

Nathan reached out with his mind to see if he could pick up any thoughts from the other person in the bathroom.
Silence.

Undoubtedly, there was something else there, other than Nathan. But at this point, Nathan did not know if it was a person or something else.

Get the hell outta here, Nathan told himself.

He swiveled around, ready to jet out of the bathroom, when out of his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of something in the mirror near the sink. He became acutely aware of whose strange energy this belonged to.

Nathan wished he could have imagined it, that somehow his fear had created this image in the mirror that really did not exist—that could not harm him. But the image was there, a few feet behind him, staring him right in the eyes. He saw a man, six-foot tall, with cunning, cold-enough-to-freeze-hell-silver eyes, dressed immaculately in a black suit. The man looked like a modern day, dapper Grim Reaper.

“Caleb,” Nathan whispered.

When he looked into the mirror, Nathan had seen his older brother, Caleb, in the mirror. Of course, in reality, Caleb was not standing behind him, yet his energy had infiltrated the cramped, urine-soap smelling, movie-theater bathroom.

He‘s here, Nathan thought frightfully. He found me.

Caleb’s image disappeared when Nathan gazed into the mirror again, but the imprint of his image remained in Nathan’s brain.
The lock on the closed bathroom stall door unlatched and slowly swung open, creating a loud, squeaky sound that superseded the sound of Nathan’s rapidly beating heart. His hearing had returned, more amplified than before. In fact, all of Nathan’s senses magnified. He took off in the direction of the bathroom door, forgetting all about Blake’s bowl of popcorn.

Taking long strides through the big, empty lobby, with the aroma of freshly made popcorn wafting into his nose, Nathan continued to feel like he was being watched, except now, he knew who was watching him.
He needed to hurry up, get Blake, and go home as soon as possible.

But is it safe to go home? Nathan considered.

Nathan had not felt so weary about going home, since the ‘Shadow Incident’, three months ago. That was the phrase, he, Blake, and their other close friend and roommate, Justin Bronson, used to denote the harrowing occurrence that almost ended up in Nathan losing his mind and killing someone.

Back in January of that year, a man named Kyle had created a psychic projection of malignant energy, which Nathan referred to as a Shadow. It was meant to deteriorate Nathan and Blake’s connection, so that Kyle could have Blake all to himself. Blake had managed to prevent Nathan from fully succumbing to the darkness within him, just as Nathan was about to murder a man named Andrew Dominguez, who had been responsible for the dissolution of Nathan’s previous relationship, with his ex-boyfriend, Russell Moore.

Since then, their lives had been tranquil, nearly free of any major concern, until now. At the back of his mind, Nathan always dreaded the day when he and Caleb would encounter each other again. Nathan was surprised that it had taken this long for Caleb to come search for him. Yet at the same time, it was not too surprising. Caleb was a psychotic perfectionist, and every action he took was calculated to the minutest detail.

Nathan reentered the movie theater. On the huge projection screen, the central heroine was doing her best to evade the masked killer. The audience members trembled in their seats.
Blake, Nathan propelled into the audience. We have to go, now.
Nearly everyone in the audience screamed as the killer hurled an axe at the heroine, which barely missed her head and got stuck in a wall beside her, instead.

Hurry up, Blake.

Nathan saw Blake rise from his seat and shuffle through the crowd and head to the front where Nathan stood.

“Nate, what’s up?” he asked. The glow coming from the screen illuminated his handsome face.

“Something happened. We gotta go.”

“The movie is almost over, though. Can it wait?”

“No, Blake,” Nathan replied firmly. “It can’t.”

Blake must have seen the seriousness in Nathan’s face and the sense of urgency in his tone of voice, because he nodded, and together they headed out of the theater. As they walked out of the double doors, into the eerily empty atrium, Nathan half-expected Caleb to be out there waiting for them, but he was not. The lanky concession stand attendant was the only person in sight.

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Blake asked, as they headed outside into a slightly warmer than usual spring night.

“I’ll tell you when we get home,” Nathan insisted.

“I thought we were gonna go to La Piñata. I’m kinda hungry now.”

“I’ll cook you something when we get home.”

Blake put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “I wanna know right now, what’s happening? I haven’t seen you look this spooked about something in a while.”

Nathan exhaled and chills zipped down from his chest to his feet when he recalled what happened in the bathroom, barely fifteen minutes prior. “It was my brother, Caleb,” Nathan finally admitted.
Blake knew of Caleb’s existence, but he did not know the details. He knew enough, however, to know that the mentioning of Caleb’s name was an indication that something was wrong. Nathan had committed much effort into hiding his family secrets from Blake and Justin. He knew eventually he would have to divulge the particulars. Their lives would be in serious peril if he did not.

“Is he here?” Blake asked.

“I saw his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom,” Nathan answered. “I felt his energy. I don’t if it was a Shadow or not.”
Nathan could still feel Caleb’s energy, pricking all over his skin like needles.

“But he’s not here, is he?” Blake questioned.

“He may not be here in Alameda, but he’s close. I know that for sure.”

Nathan suddenly received an image of Caleb, dressed in an expensive Armani suit, carrying a light luggage bag, heading out of the Oakland airport.

“He just recently arrived in Oakland,” Nathan said. The problem was that Nathan could not if this vision was from tonight or some other night. His knees buckled a little. Thankfully, Blake was there to keep him from falling.

“What does he want with you?” Blake asked.

Everything, Nathan thought.

To find out how you can read the full book for "Anomaly" and the first book, "Shadow", email me MikeSKBooker at gmail dot com