The Beast Within (Book One of the Changes Series)
A New Secret to Hold (Part 12.1)

I took my eyes off the mountains long enough to scan the soldier driving the military-issued jeep. He hadn’t said much since meeting on the helicopter pad. Only asking my name before getting on the road. I would’ve said that his introduction was strange, but it was the norm in my line of work.

A gush of wind came into the cab, bringing my attention back over the scenery.

I couldn’t believe I was back in the States. I wasn’t scheduled to come back this soon, but orders were given, and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane to California. I would be lying if I said the helicopter waiting for me once I had landed didn’t take me off guard. Now, I was here. I wasn’t exactly sure where “here” was. If I had to guess, I would think somewhere in Colorado.

“Hold on,” the soldier states.

My grip tightened over the grab handle as the terrain became more uneven.

I kept my thoughts to myself, but I didn’t understand why I was sent here. The road didn’t seem road enough to accommodate the jeep, let alone a whole base. From what I could see, nature had taken up all the free space.

The view was nice outside, but what I saw inside the cab was very telling. The driver’s 9mm sidearm and the M4 rifle secured in the back seat were standard. The rest of the jeep seemed to echo the same findings, but it had been gutted of its heavier weaponry.

The one detail that troubled me was the soldier’s stark black uniform with an “I.P.” arm patch. With all of my military experience, I’d never encountered the group he was affiliated with. Still, my orders came from the higher-ups, so it had to be solid.

We were driving deeper into a valley that seemed to appear from nowhere. The terrain gave the illusion that we were being swallowed whole by it. Even sunlight could barely penetrate the area.

The soldier stopped the jeep, killing the engine. He motioned for me to stay put. I looked around, still not seeing anything that resembled a base.

My gut told me this wasn’t any ordinary mission. I looked down at my clothes. It had been damn near a year and a half since I had worn civvies. I never needed, or wanted, much leave before I was on my next mission in some third-world country. Now I was back in the States, with no gear, and in jeans, in the middle of nowhere. I hadn’t felt this vulnerable even on tour.

The soldier turned his head to face me, “Hold on, Sir, you will feel the sensation of falling in a couple of seconds.”

He didn’t completely finish his sentence before it felt as if my stomach had jumped up into my chest. My body rebounded as I realized we were going down a hidden cargo elevator. The entrance closed behind us, leaving us in total darkness before recessed lights flickered to life as we continued downward.

I knew the military had their share of secrets, but it never failed to amaze me how many. I was about to break the silence when we finally reached the bottom.

“Follow me, Sir.”

I walked behind the soldier, letting him guide me through narrow passageways, opening up into a vast military hangar.

He led me into the middle of the room, where my eyes focused upward at what I could only presume was their headquarters. The large circular structure was covered from top to bottom with glass and seemed to float. I imagined the whole warehouse could be easily seen from up there. I watched as the personnel in the glass dome continued with their duties as if they couldn’t see me standing there.

The soldier cleared his throat, signaling my attention was needed.

“Wait here, Sir. Your party will meet with you shortly.”

I nodded once. I watched as the soldier disappeared around the same corner we had just entered from. I did another scan of the area. Other than the HQ, this was like any other base or military warehouse. The same gray cement floors matched the slightly darker gray walls, with red and yellow lines painted on the ground that directed flow. That was the weird part; there wasn’t any flow to be had. It was unusually slow for an operational military base.

I continued to survey the area; trucks, jeeps, helicopters, and even a few tanks covered the right side, from wall to wall. To the left, I saw dozens of steel-reinforced cages that were each the size of a Buick, with monster-sized forklifts parked next to them.

What the hell would they need that type of hardware for? Curious, I began to walk towards the cages, but my attention was stolen by echoing footsteps before I could get anywhere near them.

I turned to find other people being escorted in through various entryways. How many entrances did this place have? Retracing my steps, I waited where I was left.

There were five people in total, four men and one female. Like me, all of them were in their civvies with no other personal items. It looked as if I had become most of their focal points. In all likelihood hoping I could shed some light on the situation. Well, life is chock-full of disappointments.

One out of the five had that new to missions smell. I knew wet-behind-the-ears when I saw it. I kept watching as the shaved-head, saucer-sized eyes newbie strutted in. He couldn’t have been any older than twenty.

What the hell did they have us out here for?

I quickly switched my focus onto the other difference in the group. The only woman in the crowd looked out of place too, but for an entirely different reason. She had her eyes trained on me as I watched her walk. The clicking of her heels timed the slight sway of her hips as she advertised her tight-fitted black linen pants. With a slight flick of her hand and neck, her long auburn hair was effortlessly flung back, bringing attention to her stark white tailored shirt. She was definitely not armed forces. There weren’t any women I’ve served with that would risk being marginalized by their sexuality. Which could quickly happen and for much less than what I was witnessing. She seemed to be too at ease with this cloak and dagger kick. Her smoothness was proficient and most likely a plus for whatever her job entailed. It didn’t make sense why we would be placed together. Even if I was flown all this way for training, what would all of us have in common that would meet a worthwhile goal?

Their escorts left them as mine had left me. At first, no one volunteered to break the silence, but the excitement finally proved too much for the newbie.

Of course, he started towards me. It was a curse of mine to somehow attract the fresh out of the package soldier. I don’t know if they felt I had something to teach or wanted a buddy, but it never failed.

“Hey, this is some far-out shit, right? I’ve never seen this type of stuff before, you know, underground bunkers with a secret entrance.” His eyes were never trained on me long enough to notice I wasn’t in the mood to babysit. He continued talking. “I feel like that British spy, you know, Bond, James Bond.” He let out a boyish chuckle after his butchered impression.

Before deciding if I would leave the kid hanging, one of the other recruits spoke up.

“How about we name and rank or shut the hell up and enjoy the view.”

The husky voice came from a sunburnt, corn-fed country boy that looked to be made of pure muscle. The only thing more distinct than his southern accent was his platinum blonde hair cut high and tight. Newbie’s face turned different shades of red. What the hell, I’ll throw the kid a line and take some heat off of him.

“Killian, Navy SEALs. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

The newbie was right on my coattails. No real surprise there.

“Oh, shit!” he said as his fist covered his mouth.

There was a time and place for his type of informal reaction; this wasn’t it. He quickly recovered, good on him.

“I mean, Private McPherson also Navy SEALs, sir!”

The kid really needed to learn how to take it down a notch. I was starting to wonder how he made it out of boot without his commanding officer’s boot still lodged up his ass.

An audible scoff came from Big-Country. By the extra puff in his chest, Country must have decided it was his turn to dazzle us. He loosened his thick square jaw to show off a cocky smile and the considerable gap between his two front teeth.

“Sgt. Garvey affiliated with the Green Berets.”

It wouldn’t be long before Garvey and I would bump heads. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with soldiers like him. They thought their shit smelled like roses.

“Hey. Washington’s the name, and I’m on New Orleans P.D. S.W.A.T.”

Washington was a tall, muscle-bound black man similar to Garvey but without the arrogance. My height surpassed 6 feet, but these two had me beat. Many of my military brethren would joke on my lack of heavy bulk, but they all knew I could hold my own.

Gravey turned in Washington’s direction, “So what are you doing here, boy? You’re not military. Did you want to see how it felt to play G.I. Joe?”

From the obvious but controlled irritation present on Washington’s face, it was clear he had dealt with his share of country hicks. If Washington wanted to knock Garvey on his ass, I wasn’t going to stop him. Sometimes that was the only way to earn respect from a man like Garvey.

Before anything could go down, a new voice broke the tension. “Sgt. Hernandez, Green Beret.”

Hernandez had the demeanor of a seasoned soldier. Obviously, he was more interested in figuring out what the hell was going on than pulling rank, unlike his fellow Ranger. Garvey looked as if he had conquered a village when he realized he wasn’t the only Greenie in the room. I gave Hernandez another once over, and nothing struck foul with him. He seemed like an average guy in every sense of the word.

One thing was for sure, the information we shared only confused us further. 2 SEALs, 2 Rangers, and 1 S.W.A.T. left us turning towards the last piece of the puzzle. We all looked on at the woman in our midst, waiting for her to sound off.

She lifted her right brow as her lips formed into a smirk, “Look, I never wanted to join in on whatever this conversation is.”

“Ma’am, we just need to know your name and affiliation. You’re acting as if we asked what size bra you wore,” McPherson said as his eyes gave her a quick once over.

“Is that so?” she chuckled, “32 double-D, Junior,” she said before rolling her eyes and not saying another word.

We had a chuckle, well, everyone except Newbie. He somehow found a way to find another shade of red instead.

“That’s enough, Ms. Davis, leave Pvt. McPherson be.”

Our eyes followed the origin of the new voice. A medium-built female swiftly bridged the distance between herself and the group. I noticed she wore a variation of the same uniform as the men that brought us into the room. Though, her shoulder badge read I.S.F. with an emblem of a large cross with a sword to its right and an olive branch on the other side. The badge seemed vaguely familiar, but I still couldn’t put my finger on where I’d seen it before.

I scanned her again, studying the rest of her. It was apparent she took considerable pride in her appearance. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, while the creases in her uniform looked sharp enough to slice a finger.

She placed her hands behind her back, squaring off her shoulders. Her caramel complexion showed minimal signs of aging, but her demeanor spoke volumes of her maturity.

“Hello. I’m your commanding officer, Major Cynthia Hardaway.”

All the armed forces, myself included, saluted on queue.

“At ease, gentlemen.” We let our arms rest at our sides. She continued, “Welcome everyone to Galileo Proving Ground. You six are the lucky few that made it through our intensive background, so you should be proud of yourselves.”

Davis interrupted, “I’ll hold off the self-celebratory pat on the back until I find out what’s going on, if you don’t mind.”

If Davis’ outburst ruffled the major’s feathers, not a hint of it registered on her face.

“Ms. Sonia Davis, the reason you have been chosen will be shared soon enough. However, I presume proper etiquette is followed even in the C.I.A. So from this point forth, keep your thoughts to yourself.” She gave Davis a once over before continuing. “This will be your new base of operations until told otherwise. In the cases of Mr. Washington and Ms. Davis, your occupations in S.W.A.T. and the C.I.A. are also refocused onto the I.S.F., which stands for Inquisition Special Forces. As you may have guessed, this is a secret organization, but we are still under the United States government.”

“Wait, can you do that? I mean, I’m not even in the military.” Washington butt-in.

“Damn skippy they can.” Davis sarcastically chirped in.

It sounded as if she was speaking from personal experience. Major Hardaway didn’t respond to either outburst.

A hush took over the room.

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