Chapter 1

It was dark. She could hear the heavy rhythmic pounding of the drum moving steadily nearer to her position. She cast her eyes about, frantically searching for a source of light or a weapon. If she could not escape, at least she could fight.

Out of the darkness, a luminescent, spherical shape drew near. As it came closer and she could finally see, she gasped. A man's face floated, seemingly disembodied in front of her. Craning her neck, she felt a surge of fear crash into her, nearly knocking her backward with the force of it. The face was not that of a human, none living anyway. It was skeletal, bone white with dark circles beneath his hard black eyes. When he smiled, her heart froze. She tried to run but could not. Her feet were rooted, her eyes locked on his, unable to look away. For the first time in years, she screamed. It ripped from her throat uncontrollably, her shriek echoing in the quiet of the night.

Becca woke gasping, sitting bolt upright in her bed. This one had been so real she had to blink repeatedly while she gulped air, trying to reassure herself she was in her bed and it had only been a vision. Again.

Visions were different than dreams, and somehow Becca always knew upon waking which was which. Heart still racing, she reached over to turn off her alarm not due to go off for another half an hour. She feared what she would see if she were to close her eyes again. Rising, Becca peeled off the tank top, stained a deeper blue from her sweat. Her dogtags slapped her on the chest, a reminder of her servitude, a life chosen more out of self-preservation than actual patriotism yet both were equally strong components of her character makeup.

"God I hate sleep," Becca mumbled, stripping the rest of the way to climb in for a quick shower before breakfast.

In accordance with what her mother referred to as her "need to live in a constant state of denial," Becca limited her shower to necessities only and kept the water warm instead of the luxurious, steamy heat she would have actually preferred. Dressing was simple considering the fact that she worked in a few hours. The blue fatigues or "digies" the Military Police wore while on duty, hair pulled back into a simple bun and hat pulled down to its regulation level required no decision making on her part.

The predictability and constant external direction was a draw for her given her determination to live outside her head as much as possible. If her superior officers knew why she was so good at her job, they would have her court marshaled immediately for falsifying information upon enlistment and most likely have her out on a Section 8 before she could say looney bird.

When Rebecca Sauter had enlisted in the US Navy at the age of nineteen, she had failed to give full disclosure in the section on mental health. She had never told anyone what

she could do, knowing it would earn her a one way ticket to the same place her grandmother had eventually ended up in her later years. Becca made the connection after her first few "dreams" and chose to keep her mouth shut and stay free of that awful place.

Becca had been too young to know the particulars of how her Grandmother ended up there but whenever anyone spoke of her, there had always been the pregnant pause and eye roll that said, "never mind what that one says". She remembered Gran calling and her mother arguing that she wouldn't tell her husband not to go on a business trip because of some feeling Gran had. Her mother had been upset, reminding Gran that he was no longer on active duty, that he would be fine. When he'd called from the hospital to tell her about the car accident, things had been different. Gran became a thing to be feared and was avoided but for the rare guilty visit in her twilight years, but not for Becca. Gran had been the only one who could have guided her and she was out of reach, dying before her granddaughter was brave enough to tell her they were the same.

Becca was left to worry in private if she had inherited some sort of familial mental imbalance, if the ability to dream the future would eventually bring her to the same end as her Gran. Her older brother Kyle was straight as an arrow but her little brother Jared was a flake and Becca often wondered if he was like her, but she couldn't imagine asking even if she could catch him straight for long enough to have a serious conversation. The times between his "bake sessions" were few and far between; the man loved his chemicals.

***

Breakfast was served early on the base. Becca had no worry that she would have to wait

for her dry toast and even drier eggs washed down by surprisingly good black coffee. Her trip to the mess hall was limited to eating only. There was no visiting beyond a curt smile at the very few enlisted men and women who noticed her forgettable figure in the halls.

She'd never liked the fact that she was small, but after discovering she was different, she craved anonymity and for that she was grateful for her appearance. Becca was gifted with unremarkable sandy brown hair that hung straight to her shoulders on the rare occasion she wore it down, and large hazel eyes that sat atop a small, slightly upturned nose splashed with a few light freckles. The effect, combined with her slight build and modest height of five foot, three inches, often got her confused with a teenager despite being twenty-two years old.

Becca finished her breakfast, grabbed her cap from the seat beside her, and made her way to the front doors where her partner would be picking her up in the Charger they'd gotten last year when the base had finally upgraded from jeeps to sedans. Under normal circumstances the San Diego weather they enjoyed at the Naval Air Station at Miramar was conducive to an open topped vehicle, however, with the addition of laptops to their gear, the occasional rain had become a real problem.

As was typical, Becca heard the powerful engine before she actually saw the black vehicle pull up alongside the curb. She climbed in and flashed a quick smile at her partner.

Danny Yamamoto was a perfect partner for a wallflower like Becca. He was a California native and well liked by most everyone despite being an MP, an oft hated presence on the base. Especially on Friday and Saturday nights when the enlisted men liked to blow off a little steam.

His coal black hair was clipped in a standard high-and-tight and he was only a few inches taller than his partner, but his lean, muscular build marked him as someone to be left alone. Despite Danny's strong presence, there was sincere warmth in his deep brown eyes and his lips formed a perpetual smile, lending him a welcoming air that put most people at ease.

Danny's insistent way of burrowing his way into her life was the only reason Becca had a somewhat steady boyfriend. He had been more upset than he should have been eighteen months ago when they had been assigned to each other and, after much prodding and poking, he had learned of Becca's strict regime of no excess and no social life. Almost immediately, Danny started trying to lure her to parties and the apartment he shared with his girlfriend Michelle, forever trying good naturedly to draw her from her bubble of isolation to meet some of his friends.

On occasion she relented, mostly out of annoyance, but still her aloofness kept her from really being accepted. Then, three months ago, Danny introduced her to Terry. Terry was the youngest of five children, all girls. He knew how to be patient and was more than willing to take the reins when she appeared at a loss for how to proceed with an adult relationship. He had been nothing but kind since their initial meeting; her cool exterior had not turned him off. Quite the opposite, he had become infatuated with her.

It was this odd infatuation Becca credited with the relationship she now shared with him. They saw each other a few times per week with intermittent phone calls sprinkled in. It was more than Becca had done before and she saw it as progress. Not Terry. Though the relationship had become physical well over a month ago, Becca had yet to stay the night or invite him to stay at her apartment. It was a stalemate each silently refused to budge on.

"Hey Danny," Becca greeted her partner warmly. His peaceful nature automatically relaxed her. She didn't know if that was why he was assigned to her after her first partner said she was a cold bitch, but she appreciated him regardless.

He eased the car slowly away from the curb. Danny gave her his usual dimpled smile, flashing his artificially straight white teeth at her. "Are you coming to our barbeque this weekend? I talked to Terry last night and he said you still hadn't committed one way or the other." He was cheerful though she could hear the anticipated disappointment in his tone. "Michelle said to tell you she hopes to see you there, otherwise Terry will be in her

kitchen the whole time and that is not where a man belongs." He annunciated the last exactly as she would, including a head weave. "Her words, not mine."

"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead," she deflected.

The car slowed causing her to look over at him. Danny was staring at her in disbelief. "Bec, it's the day after tomorrow."

"Oh." She felt her cheeks warm. "Um, when is it again?"

Danny blew out a gush of air in frustration. "Saturday at two. My place. We're going to grill and maybe head over to the courts for some volleyball."

Battling the way her lip wanted to curl at the thought of being around so many people she didn't know, Becca gave him the answer he wanted to hear. "Okay. I'll be there."

Danny had started to ease back out away from the curb while twisting his head to cast her a sidelong glance. "Think you're coming solo?"

"I can call Terry but he might have made other plans," she offered lamely, knowing that as much as she wished he hadn't, she knew he would have set the date aside for Danny even if she had refused, as was frequently the case. She was a crap girlfriend. If it wasn't for the sense of normalcy it gave her, she wouldn't let the charade continue. It wasn't fair to Terry.

Looking quite pleased with himself, Danny hummed happily, bobbing his head in time to a few short bars of "I Kissed a Girl." They were not supposed to have the radio on anything except a few approved stations while on duty, none of them good, so the two had gotten used to leaving it off.

"So how's it going with you love birds?" Danny asked her innocently. Though by rights, he probably knew better than she. Terry had been Danny's best friend since the sixth grade and she knew they often spoke of her. Both professed a deep need to see her happy, serving only to irritate her all the more.

Annoyed at the image of the two of them discussing her in her absence, Becca growled, "You tell me. The two of you are worse than a couple of old ladies."

"Bec, I can't tell you anything you don't already know. The man's smitten and you are the object of his affections whether you like it or not." What he couldn't tell her was that Terry was completely gaga over her. If Becca suspected the intensity of Terry's feelings, he knew she would head for the hills. Danny had told Terry to play it cool if he didn't want to scare her off, although he doubted Terry could keep himself in check much longer; the man had it bad.

Becca didn't answer. She stared out the window at the sparse landscape surrounding them. San Diego was one of the most temperate climates in the world. It was usually in the mid to low seventies, sunshine most days and a slight breeze off the ocean year round but for the twice annual gusting Santa Ana winds. The base was mostly flat. The military need for a grid justified the razing of most of the trees at its inception, yet Becca had learned where to look to see remnants of the stark desert beauty.

The dry winter landscape had caused most of the plants to go dormant; the base didn't water like the surrounding suburbs. Becca let her eyes slide over most of the brown vegetation. The naked twisting branches of a small copse of trees just beyond the base's fence line behind the airfield was one of her favorite places within sight of the base and her eyes focused intently to catch as much as she could before they passed. The trees overlooked a semi-wild patch of ground that would be dotted with native wildflowers in the spring and summer. Becca found rare and invaluable peace sitting in the trees after a run and enjoying the smells of dry ground, the bark of the Cypress trees, and the occasional whiff of jet fuel.

"He's a good guy, Bec. It wouldn't kill you to give him a little more." Danny spoke softly, bringing her mind back inside the car. "You know he'd treat you like a queen if you'd let him."

"What? I know, Danny." She struggled to keep the rising aggravation out of her voice. Her partner knew her tendency to be a loner but he was a bit of a romantic. Becca was going to be lonely in life and that was that. She'd accepted it, why couldn't he? It didn't help her mood that every time she turned around either Danny or Terry, or even Michelle, was at her about her feelings. Soon she'd have to end things with Terry or she'd lose her partner's respect and that was something she couldn't do. Danny was too important to her.

Becca felt a pain in her stomach and had a sudden flash of Terry's face, twisted and white with pain. The flash was strong and she inhaled sharply at the image. As was usually the case, there was too little to use to figure out any particulars as to when or where this would happen and Becca was left to pick apart the minutiae of what she had seen in that brief premonition. Initially, she thought she was seeing their breakup only she couldn't imagine he would take it that hard. Thankfully, if Danny sensed something he kept it to himself.

She spent a lot of time in her head and Danny was used to her odd behavior. In a way, he was the closest friend she'd ever had. He let her strange gasps and exclamations at her thoughts go without question and went with her when her gut instinct gave her direction. It hadn't steered them wrong yet and her partner trusted it as much as she did, even if she did give him the willies.

It was a Thursday and not much would happen that day. Some speeding, the occasional traffic stop for distracted driving but no big occurrences. Those were the problem of the

night MPs. Danny and Becca were day shift for another week yet, meaning they would have a relatively easy time of it. She knew it was a reward for their smooth handling of several potentially severe issues the month before.

One incident had been at a bar just off base involving several Marines and a lot of Tequila. The call came in that they had gone from having a good time to being belligerent. Danny had started to enter until Becca unexpectedly stopped him from going in the front doors. Instead, when they went around back, they saw one in the process of smacking his girlfriend around outside her car. Danny had taken him into custody and Becca went in to escort the other two outside, where they could be handcuffed and delivered safely and without further incident, to sleep it off. The bartender had commented to Danny how fortuitous it had been that they had come in the back; one of the men had been planning to jump them when they came in the front door. Only Becca knew it had nothing to do with fortune or luck.

Their shift was up by five and Danny dropped her off at the mess hall to get dinner. Becca thanked him, grabbing a light dinner before heading home to change for her nightly run off base. Knowing the guards on duty had its privileges.

***

The meal sat like lead in her belly, but she prepared for her run regardless. The

conversation with Danny about Terry had been bothering her, as had her vision of him in pain. Being out in the crisp night air would clear her head.

Becca adored the long, cool nights. They gave her the ability to run hidden in the evening shadows, to let herself melt away and be free for a short while. Soon they would be gone with the impending spring but for now she enjoyed what was left of them. She took different routes to change up the scenery, except for the end. In the end she always ended up in the same place, her Cypress trees behind the airfield.

This night was no different. Becca wore dark running pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with a black fleece pullover tied around her waist to keep her warm when she would be sitting in the wood after she'd finished her light five mile circuit. The similarly colored stocking cap on her head would help her to remain warm in the cooling desert air.

At the outset of the run Becca felt her dinner, albeit light, pressing at the back of her throat. Swallowing her discomfort and maybe something extra, she set out and focused on her breathing and patterns of her footfalls. Within minutes, her stride was steady and Becca felt her head clearing, concentrating on the smooth way that her muscles propelled her forward.

Once out, Becca was glad she had chosen such dark clothing. The moon was full and she felt exposed in the few sets of headlights that touched her before she got off the main road. Running alone at night did not make her wary like it did other women because Becca's instincts had always kept her safe, as she trusted them to do now. If a path felt

wrong, she turned down another. She wasn't sure why but somehow she just knew no harm would come to her as long as she listened.

Halfway in, Becca felt her dinner at the back of her throat again. A twisting knot in her side threw off her stride. She pushed on, determined to be in command of her body. Another mile clicked past. Becca clutched her side to hold the searing pain that had planted itself there, unwilling to be moved. By the time she smelled the Cypress trees, Becca had stopped and vomited in the underbrush twice. She'd given up all pretenses of running and was now walking briskly toward the peace she craved in the small oasis.

Reaching her destination at last, Becca sat down heavily in the leaf litter, pausing only long enough to remove her pullover from her waist. She donned the clothing from habit, not need. She was overheated to the point she worried she had a fever. The fear that she had food poisoning crossed her mind fleetingly and Becca quickly cast it aside. Dinner had not sat well from the get go, food poisoning took longer to set in. Her best course of action was to catch her breath and then see where she was at physically, before deciding what to do. The idea that she needed to be home was foreign. The four walls that made up her housing were in no way as relaxing as this spot. All things being equal, she would rather be here.

Becca pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, leaning back against the rough, partially peeled bark of the tree. Her head spun and her stomach clenched again; Becca breathed deeply to avoid retching though she doubted anything remained in her stomach. The last mile of stomach-emptying run had taken care of that. Her slow breathing, combined with the earthy smell she drew in through her nose and mouth, was comforting and she rested her spinning head on her knees.