Extensis Vitae

Extensis Vitae - By Gregory Mattix

Chapter 1



“Can you hear me?” a distant voice asked. “Are you awake? You’ve been injured… There was an accident. You are going to recover, but you may feel disoriented for a while.”

Somewhere far off in the darkness, the white noise of humming machinery droned on endlessly. As time passed, another sound became discernable, this one nearby. Beep…beep…beep. Slow and constant, like a fine-tuned watch.

The comatose man slowly began to gain awareness. The beeping sound was like a beacon, and he was able to focus on it. Slowly, he tried to open his gummy eyes, but grunted in shock as harsh light seared his retinas. After a moment, he tried again, this time averting his gaze from the overhead lights. Squinting and allowing his eyes to adjust for a moment, he was able to make out a gray metal ceiling with a track of LED lights. Everything slowly came into focus around him.

The man couldn’t feel anything. It seemed that his sight and hearing were the only senses available to him. He turned his head and took in what appeared to be some sort of laboratory. A mix of unfamiliar machinery and computer terminals were along one wall. A sink and some storage cabinets lined the other side of the room. The source of the constant beeping was a machine on a wheeled rack next to the steel table he lay on.

There was nobody else in the room. He didn’t know if the voice he had heard was real or a dream.

Opening his mouth to take a breath, his gag reflex took over as he choked on the tube running down his throat. As his body convulsed, he instinctively tried to grasp for the tube, but he realized that he couldn’t move his arms. A brief moment of panic struck as he realized that he was unable to draw breath or move any of his limbs. The machine began beeping more rapidly in response to his elevated pulse. After a moment or two of thrashing around, some protective instinct kicked in and he fought to calm himself. Eventually he was able to relax enough to the point where he could breathe through his nose. Relief flooded through him, and once he was breathing calmly and relaxed again, he drifted back into the darkness.



***



“Reznik! Hey, are you ready?” A man wearing camouflage fatigues and face paint was beside him, looking at him expectantly. The man’s face was familiar to him, yet he couldn’t quite place it. “You’re losing it, man. What’s with the thousand-yard stare?”

Reznik grunted in acknowledgment. Before he could reply, some chatter came through his earpiece. A voice was talking about the ETA for air support that had been radioed in.

The two of them lay prone behind a boulder. A steep slope rose in front of them up into the tree line. Glancing sideways, Reznik noticed another pair of soldiers crouched behind a fallen tree about thirty yards away. Seeing his glance, one of them nodded and turned back toward the high ground.

“This time, these f*ckers aren’t gonna escape back into the hills. We’ve got them surrounded on all sides, and Williams’s squad is waiting on the other side of the ridgeline, ready to cut them down when they run. Hopefully they won’t make it that far, though.” The other soldier had an eager gleam in his blue eyes. Nash…the name came back to him now. He didn’t look much like a normal soldier due to the growth of beard covering his face and mop of unruly blond hair sticking out from under his boonie hat. His fatigues were totally unmarked.

“You okay, buddy?” Nash asked. “You better get your head in the game!” Reznik nodded, looking at the rifle in his hands. It was a standard issue M-4 with a night vision scope.

“Lock and load, everyone! Move into position!” barked the voice over the radio. Reznik checked his weapon without thinking about it, his hands moving of their own accord. He had been through this routine thousands of times before. Muscle memory, he thought as he chambered a round and switched off the safety.

“Let’s go, hoss.” Nash moved out from behind the boulder in a crouch, M-4 held at the ready. The pair on their right flank began advancing, as well.

Reznik and Nash crept up the slope for about seventy yards, taking care to move quietly. After a few minutes, Nash waved him to a halt and they went prone again behind a bush. “Bravo in position,” Nash called softly into the mic.

They waited until everyone had checked in. Reznik could see a slender column of smoke rising through the trees from a campfire above them. He guessed it to be about fifty yards away.

“Okay, hold your positions… Air strike in T minus five,” the voice announced again. “You won’t hear the drone coming, so once it goes boom, move in and take them out.”

Sweat trickled down Reznik’s back as the minutes seemed to last forever. He was just thinking that it might have been a good idea to take a piss before they had moved up into position when he detected a faint hissing sound, which swiftly became a loud roar. Reznik could see the vapor trail of the missile, and then a deafening explosion rocked the hillside as fire exploded above them. Debris rained down upon the soldiers.

For a brief second, all was quiet, and then everything happened at once. Screams of pain and curses in a foreign tongue rose from the campsite. Nash and others nearby were yelling to attack as they leapt up and charged the campsite.

Reznik reacted instantly, rising and sprinting alongside Nash, making sure to stay lined up with the others at his flank in order to keep their field of fire open.

A dirty, bearded face rose out of the smoke in front of him, and Reznik squeezed off a couple rounds into the man’s chest. As the jihadist fell, Reznik double-tapped him with a bullet to the head for good measure.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Nash was firing to his left, and gunshots were coming from all around him. The smoke slowly began to clear as they entered the campsite.

Reznik saw a muzzle flash ahead of him, and a spray of bullets tore up the ground near his feet. He smoothly pivoted and dropped to a knee, firing a burst into the face of the jihadist that had popped up from cover. The 5.56 mm rounds tore the man’s head apart in a spray of blood.

The gunfire lasted another moment or so, and then it was quiet. Reznik looked around and saw quite a few enemy corpses. Intel had put the number in the camp at about twenty, but it was hard to tell the real number with the amount of body parts strewn about after the missile strike.

Reznik was looking around for Nash and the others when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the corpses had been shoved asides and he saw the barrel of an assault rifle pointing at him. He whipped his M-4 around, but it was too late. The AK-47 gave a bark, and Reznik was thrown to the ground as bullets slammed into his midsection.

His companions returned fire, and a hail of bullets ripped through the wounded jihadist and the corpse that he had been hiding under.

“Man down,” someone called out.

Reznik gasped for breath as a hot knife of pain hammered his side. He fumbled with his vest, trying to unfasten it with hands that were now sticky with blood.

Nash loomed over him. “Let me take a look.” His jaw was clenched as he pushed Reznik’s hands away. He pulled open the body armor and squinted at the damage. “Looks like the ballistic plates took most of it, but one got you in the side here—lucky for you, it looks like it was mainly just a graze.” Nash poked at the wound and Reznik gasped as burning pain raced through his nerves.

“It probably hurts like a bitch, huh?” Nash asked helpfully over Reznik’s groans. “You should be fine, but you’re sure as hell gonna be buying the first round when we get back stateside, a*shole.” Reznik suddenly felt cold all over, and the last thing he saw was Nash’s grin before darkness closed in.



***



The man awoke in a cold sweat, thrashing on the stainless steel table. The room and table were chilly, and he could feel goosebumps on his skin as a shiver ran through his body.

He was no longer alone in the room. An attractive young woman turned away from one of the computer terminals at the sound of his thrashing. She had shoulder-length chestnut hair and wore a white lab coat.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” she said as she approached. Her striking green eyes were narrowed with concern as she peered down at him. “I’m Myrna Kane. You must be disoriented, which is normal, I’d imagine.” She looked away and checked his vitals on the machine next to him. “Everything looks good here… Can you speak?”

He opened his mouth and gagged on the tube.

“Oh, sorry. It might help if I removed that. Hold still.” She slowly began pulling the tube out of his mouth. He unsuccessfully fought not to gag again as it slid out of his throat.

“Is that better?” Myrna asked. She coiled the tube up neatly on the rack with the beeping machine.

“Yes,” he gasped. He realized his throat was as dry as a bone. “Water.”

“Of course,” she replied and walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water. As she turned back toward him, her lab coat swung open and he noticed she was wearing some sort of dark uniform beneath it.

“Let me help you sit up first.” She reached down and unfastened the restraint from one wrist and then walked around to the other side of the table to undo the other. He was shirtless, wearing only some type of thin hospital pants. Her hand was warm on his back as she helped him sit up. A wave of dizziness hit him, but it quickly passed.

She held the glass up to his lips. “Drink slowly; you don’t want to get sick. You haven’t really had anything in your stomach in, well—forever, I guess.” The water was cool and refreshing on his parched throat. Now that he was sitting up, he noticed there was an IV in his arm. Myrna was watching him intently.

“Where am I? Is this a military hospital?”

“No, not military…not a hospital, either. Do you remember your name?”

No, he thought as he drew a blank. But then he remembered scraps of the dream. “Reznik…my name is Reznik?” It came out almost sounding like a question, but once the name crossed his lips, it felt right.

“Yes, that’s what it says in your file. Good!” She smiled for the first time. “How are you feeling, Mr. Reznik?”

“A little weak and dizzy, but no pain.” For a moment, he thought back to the dream. He probed his side where he had been shot, but the skin was smooth and unblemished. Did that really happen to me? he wondered. It had felt so real—like he was reliving a past event. “That’s strange—I remember getting shot, but there’s no scar or anything. I don’t know…it must have just been a dream.”

Myrna looked at him with some concern. “It’s probably just some disorientation. Other than the dizziness and confusion, are you feeling well?” He nodded. “That’s good. You would probably like to get dressed.”

She moved to unfasten the leg restraints when a voice boomed from the doorway, “Hold on! Myrna, what are you doing?” Myrna stepped away and turned toward the door.

A heavyset man entered the room, concern on his face. He looked to be in his mid fifties with graying hair, a mustache, and a large paunch. He wore a navy blue uniform similar to what Myrna was wearing under her lab coat. It didn’t look military, but more like some type of utility uniform. There was gaudy gold ornamentation on the shoulder board and a logo of a golden phoenix with the words ‘Extensis Vitae’ on the breast. He looks like a South American dictator out of a B-movie, Reznik thought. All he needs are some aviator shades and a cigar in his mouth.

“You need to be careful, Myrna! We don’t know what this man’s mental state is. We don’t have any research data for this procedure.” Myrna shrugged, unabashed. Her eyes flicked over to Reznik and then back to the heavyset man.

The man turned to Reznik and a smile easily replaced the scowl he had given Myrna. “Pleased to meet you, good sir! I’m Malcolm Swanson, administrator of this facility. How are you feeling? I take it Myrna’s taken good care of you?”

Politician of some sort, Reznik thought. “Yes sir, she was kind enough to fetch me a glass of water and remove these restraints,” he replied. “Other than that, I’m not sure what else she did…or even what was wrong with me, for that matter.”

Swanson beamed. “Excellent! She’s a brilliant young woman—being able to take over her father’s work like this. We have much to talk about! But right now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to speak to Myrna for a moment in private.”

“Sure,” Reznik replied.

Swanson gestured out the door and Myrna walked outside with him. Reznik could hear their footsteps receding as they went down the hall. From what he could hear of their discussion, it seemed like Swanson was doing almost all of the talking.

Reznik looked around the room again. It looked like a makeshift medical facility that had been designed for various purposes. The room was clean, yet he got the impression that it had seen a lot of use over the years. ‘Extensis Vitae’, he thought, wondering what that meant. What kind of place is this? “Not a hospital,” she said. His eyes wandered over to the computer terminal she had been sitting at.

Reaching down, he unfastened the restraints around his ankles. He wondered if Swanson realized there was nothing preventing him from freeing himself.

Reznik hopped down off the table. The floor tiles were cold beneath his bare feet. A pinch on his arm reminded him of the IV. He pulled the needle out and set the tubes on the table. He also removed a couple sensors that were stuck to his chest. The machine began to chirp in alarm, but he hit the power button and silenced it.

He walked over to the computer terminal. It was a surprisingly ancient machine amidst the other sleek, modern equipment. Blurry green text stood out in stark contrast to the black background. Shit, nobody uses these old tube monitors anymore, he thought. A cup of coffee sat next to the monitor.

Computer code was on the screen. Reznik wasn’t much of a computer tech, and the code was unfamiliar to him. It looked like something off an old DOS computer from when he was a kid. The last command on the screen was for something called ‘Augmentation BIOS, Firmware version 1.5.’ Before he could read more, he heard footsteps outside the door.

“I see you’ve freed yourself,” Myrna remarked with a wary look at Reznik.

“Yeah, it wasn’t very difficult,” he said. “Perhaps you can tell me where I am. What is this place?” He took a couple steps toward her. “And why is Mr. Swanson worried about my mental state after some ‘procedure?’”

He could see her tense up as he approached. “I know you have a lot of questions, Mr. Reznik. All will be explained at the appropriate time. Administrator Swanson has instructed me that only he will be filling you in on what he feels you need to know.” From the tone of her voice, she apparently didn’t agree with Swanson’s directions.

He took another step toward her, and she took a step back. “Don’t worry, I won’t harm you.” He looked around again. “Other than having no idea what the hell is going on and not being able to remember what happened to me, I’m not mentally unbalanced.”

“That’s good, because Swanson sent for security just in case.”

As if on cue, Reznik heard the heavy tread of boots outside the door. Two brawny men entered the room and stood blocking the door. They wore some type of riot gear: a light body armor vest and a helmet with a clear visor that covered the face. Both men carried what looked like riot batons in their hands. They, too, wore the same style of utility uniform underneath their vests as the others.

Reznik gave them an appraising stare for a moment. They tried to appear imposing, but Reznik could see the nervousness in their eyes. These two aren’t used to handling much more than the occasional minor domestic dispute or drunken brawl, he guessed. He was an unknown factor to them.

“Myrna, is everything okay in here?” the larger guard asked.

“Yes, you can wait outside the door. I’ll be fine,” she replied.

“Sure?” he asked again with a glance between Myrna and Reznik.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said with an annoyed glance. Reznik saw something pass between them for an instant, and then the two guards retreated to take positions outside the door.

She cleared her throat nervously as she noticed Reznik watching the exchange intently. “Are you sure you are feeling well enough to be up and about?” She glanced at the IV lying on the table. “I can put you under for a while longer, if you like.”

“No. I have a feeling I’ve been under much too long already,” he replied. In actuality, he felt pretty good. The dizziness and weakness had passed surprisingly fast.

“You don’t even know,” she said, not unkindly.

“You aren’t really a doctor, are you?”

She sighed. “No, but I’m the closest thing we have to one right now, sad to say. I’m a scientist. My father is a physician, but he’s…not available right now.” Reznik could tell there was something wrong from the way she said the last part, but he didn’t press her on it.

“Well, Administrator Swanson wanted me to show you to your quarters and find you something to wear. I’ll take you there.”

Reznik nodded and followed her as she went into the hallway. The security duo fell into step behind them. A long, dim corridor led past numbered rooms. The walls and ceiling were all made out of the same dull gray metal. Pipes and ductwork were exposed along the ceiling, and LED lights were interspersed at regular intervals. Soft elevator music was piped through a speaker system. The place reminded Reznik of a bunker. He couldn’t specifically recall having been in a bunker before, but somehow, he knew he had.

He found himself trying to take in every detail of his surroundings without being obvious about it. Whatever past training he had received was apparently so ingrained, that he noticed all the details without any conscious effort. He noted security cameras at the intersection of the hallway facing every direction. They took a set of stairs up one level. A sign marked “DINING ROOM, COMMON AREA” had an area pointing up. Another sign that said “LIVING QUARTERS” designated the level they entered. He didn’t see any signs for an exit anywhere, though.

They passed by a number of identical rooms marked by numbers on the doors. After a few moments of silence, Myrna spoke up. “I’m sorry that I can’t tell you anything. This must be terrible for you—waking up in a strange place and nobody willing to tell you what is going on or anything.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve had less cordial treatment before,” Reznik replied with a half-smile. “You’ve treated me well, and I don’t want to get you in trouble by pressing you for answers. I appreciate you taking care of me, not being a doctor and all.”

She gave a sad smile. “Hopefully you still feel kindly toward me once you talk to Swanson. I just hope this turns out well for all of us.”

Myrna stopped abruptly in front of a door that was identical to the others. It was marked ‘56C.’ A motion sensor activated, and the door slid silently open. She gestured for him to enter.

Inside was an austere chamber with a couple of chairs, a desk, and a small sofa. Reznik stepped inside and could see a small bedroom off to one side and a tiny kitchenette on the other. He was surprised to see a large picture window opposite the door. He looked around and saw that Myrna was waiting outside the door.

“Well, this is where you will be staying. Clean clothes are in the wardrobe. If you feel like a shower or anything, help yourself.” She pointed to an intercom device near the door. “If you need anything, just call me. Swanson will send for you soon, I’m sure.”

“I can hardly wait. Thanks.”

She smiled and left, the door sliding shut quietly behind her. He decided he liked her—she had an honest face. Pretty, too, he thought.

He walked over to the picture window, amazed that there could be such a view from what seemed like a bunker. A scenic landscape stretched out before him: deep blue skies overhead and a sunlit green meadow below an imposing mountain range. As he moved closer to the window, he realized there wasn’t any glass. In fact, the mountain scene was a clever projection on the wall. The image distorted as he passed his hand through the projection and touched the metal wall behind it.

Reznik walked into the bedroom and saw a neatly made bed and a large wardrobe against the wall. Inside the wardrobe hung a couple of the navy blue utility uniforms, nicely pressed. I guess this is the dress code, then, he thought.

He was going to poke his head out into the hallway and see if the guards were posted outside, but the door wouldn’t open. He ran his fingers around the frame, but couldn’t find a handle or any buttons to release it. Apparently, he wasn’t going anywhere unless they invited him.

With a sigh, he decided he would take a shower and freshen up before they summoned him. He stepped into the shower, surprised that the water came out hot almost instantly. As he soaked up the warmth, his mind began to wander.



***



“Down the hatch!” yelled a clearly drunken Nash. The others howled in agreement and they all downed a shot of whiskey. Reznik felt the burn as it went down, but it felt great. There were four of them in the hut—he, Nash, and two others that he recognized as Combs and Jefferson. They all were grinning like fools, clearly drunk or well on the way. The bottle of Jack Daniels had nearly been drained. Whether or not all the damage had been done in one sitting, Reznik couldn’t recall. Someone had smuggled the whiskey into camp, as it was banned and could be cause for trouble if the C.O. found out about it.

“So what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get back stateside?” Combs asked.

“I’m gonna find the first bitch I meet and give it to her so hard, she’ll walk bow-legged for a week!” Nash shouted. The drunker he got, the more his southern accent came out. The others all bellowed their laughter.

“Well, I’m gonna go buy myself one of those new SS Camaros. Man, those things are money!” Combs said. “Then we can go pick up some bitches together!” The others hollered their agreement.

“What about you, Reznik?” Nash asked.

Reznik heard himself say, “I’m think I’m going to catch the first flight to Denver and show up at my girl Amanda’s doorstep, and then…” He paused for dramatic effect. “…I’m gonna pop the question!”

The others whistled and hooted. “Damn, you getting hitched, son? Look at you, all ready to settle down and shit!” Combs said.

Nash punched him in the shoulder. “Well, brother, I hope she’s the right woman for you. She seems like a good one, for sure.” Reznik nodded.

“Well, since no one bothered to ask,” Jefferson interjected after a pause, “I’m gonna get drunk off my ass and have an Xbox marathon with my homies.”

“Aw, that shit’s weak! You need to go out and get your ass laid,” Nash scoffed and spit some dip into his spit bottle.

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, since I hear your mama’s available,” Jefferson shot back.

“Go f*ck yourself,” Nash said with a grin. They all bellowed in laughter.



***



Reznik snapped out of his reverie and realized he had no idea how much time had passed. The water had grown lukewarm.

I have a fiancée back home! He was shocked. Amanda. How the hell could I have forgotten about her? Try as he might, he couldn’t picture her face. This is jacked up…I need to get my life back. But first, I need to get the hell out of here—wherever ‘here’ is.

Reznik got out of the shower and toweled himself off. He stopped cold as he got his second big shock. Leaning closer, he examined the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. He had close-cropped dark hair, flint gray eyes, and a five o’clock shadow covering his face. His body was lean and muscular, with powerful arms, chest, and shoulders. His sharply chiseled abdominal muscles formed a well-defined six-pack. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his frame; he was definitely much more ripped than he remembered ever being before. His face was smooth and youthful, the lines of age wiped away. The problem was that the person reflected in the mirror wasn’t him.