The Spark

By Jacob Roberts

A boy with no memory and a girl with too many memories. A country at war, inside and out. Together they will unearth the lies and deception filling their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781663213471

Jacob Roberts

Jacob Roberts is an eighteen year old college kid and had spent his past life invested in stories. The deeper and darker the better. He watched as more and more stories became repetitive and mainstream and he worked to challenge it. In his first book “The New Spark” he works to challenge the bigger stories.

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Copyright © 2020 Jacob Roberts.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-1346-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-1347-1 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 11/13/2020

CONTENTS

Prologue

Part One The Escape

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

Part Two The Raid

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

Part Three The Rooftops

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

XXXIII

A message:

Thank you to everyone who was there for the

start, Miss. Catherine Lewis who was the first

one to fully give me hope in this book.

To Riley baker who was the first person to read this

to completion and being there to offer critique.

To Makiehá Conley who continued to push me to

work on this until it was everything I hoped it was.

To anyone who may be suffering like these characters are,

please know that there are people who are willing to help.

Suicide helpline: 1-800-273-8255

To those who are having a hard time, I hope

that this will help you get through it.

PROLOGUE

The year is 2021, the U.S has lost the Cold War to the Russians in 1998, after turning hot in 1963, 35 years of fighting and death on both sides followed. President Whitfield went into hiding, leaving the people to fend for themselves against the new government of the Communist U.S.A. The Soviets then proceed to leave Soviet America to fend for itself as a weak and corrupt puppet state.

One family had gotten sick of the corruption and weakness that surrounded the new country. These are the Romanovs, they rallied the people together to overthrow their new leaders. The riots and revolutions ended in 2010, with a new country being born. It was named the Romanov Republic of America. In the end, the family went power hungry and started to oppress the newly freed people.

They rule with an iron grip to keep any and all protesting and symbolism to a minimum. This new imperialist government often makes examples of those who rebel against them well known. Public executions are the number one punishment for most crimes.

The small riots that have happened, are often put out before the riots get out of hand. With their secret police and the Marshals who often hunt down the leaders and make the riots collapse into itself.

The R.R. is too deep in debt to pay for the government change, this makes for heavy taxes on the citizens. Most cops are never opposed to looking the wrong way for the right price. This leads too many to give up and just accept the new imperialized, corrupt, and militarized country they live in.

But not everyone has given up, just yet…

PART ONE

The Escape

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I

No matter who you are, when your

memory is taken, you are taken.

I had to find this out the hard way. At least as far as I know. See I don’t have any memories of who I am, or who I was. All I know is that I woke up in a military hospital tent, surrounded by armed guards. I can barely see with the blinding lights tearing at my eyes.

What the hell did I do last night? Or any night for that matter?

I look around the room and notice that it is lined with others like me. Dressed in the one-sided gown that hospitals force their patients to wear.

Each person is strapped down, but I am the only one to be guarded. There are two people in hazmat suits giving shots to the other men next to me. Then mutters something to his partner. After every shot the men have a spasm and then go still. Yet their hearts were never beating according to the heart rate monitor attached to each man. Then I look at mine, I have a slow steady heartbeat that is barely noticeable.

This is patient 1-12523 he is the newest face of the Phoenix program. Someone in a hazmat suit says. I notice that they only wear a paper mask over their nose. I hear a voice say. It sounds muffled and slurred that it’s barely audible. Another new one, how many are they beating? From what I can make out, I believe it to be a man.

Another continues Not enough given the bruises all over his body, but still he’s just a civilian. How about the deeper scar above his left eyebrow? A lighter voice asks.

Looks like a gunshot wound. The first hazmat responds.

The reports never listed removing a bullet from his head though. The second hazmat sounds extremely confused and worried about this scar that I don’t even notice.

No clue, man.

So why did we bother saving him? This voice sounds like a woman’s voice. I try to talk and ask questions, but I can’t seem to open my mouth to make any sounds. So, I just wait and let my strength come back to me.

He apparently has Retrograde Amnesia; this makes him good for programming. Not to mention that he doesn’t exist on any federal database. The man explains.

Maybe, he was erased The woman suggests.

Do you think someone could honestly do that and get away with it?

I’m just spit balling. She says.

Well, keep it to yourself. I don’t know about you, but I’m sure as shit not stupid enough to question the commanders. Maybe they have something special planned for him. The man says. I mean, he IS for the Phoenix program. Maybe you should stop asking questions before you get yourself, or worse, me, in trouble. He finishes.

Fine, fine, let’s just get on with the overview so we can just get it over with. The woman spits out. I wonder silently what her deal is with me, and why she hates this job so much.

They both continue Height is 5 foot 10 with jet black hair with flakes of…what looks to be red hair dye. The man starts.

I think that’s blood. The woman offers.

Who cares? Caucasian with a medium build weighs somewhere in the range of 140 to 150 pounds. Looks to be the eye color is a deep brown, with almost a maroon- the first hazmat says,

And still no goddamn name or sign of consciousness. the woman finishes.

Listen it’s still our job to make sure that the poor bastards’ shots are administered. The doctor is supposed to make sure they’re dead. The man responds, growing angrier with every word.

At that moment it is the best time to show them that I am quite alive still. So, I try to move. All that moves is my fingertip, and as the two hazmat’s continue with their inspection, they don’t notice. So, I try harder and harder, but I realize that it is useless. So, I decide to save my strength.

I still want to know why he has that upper scar; it isn’t shrapnel. It looks like a stitch marking. The woman remarks.

Look, everything you are talking about is classified, if anyone hears you talking about this, you’ll end up suffering the same fate. I don’t want to be working on you next week.

As they inch closer to me, I can see them start to prepare the shot. I don’t wait any longer to see what this shot will do, and I try to move again. This time my whole hand flicks quickly to the side.

Ugh… did you see that? I hear the woman ask.

You’re imagining things, Kelly. The man snaps back. His back is still to me as he puts the last touches in the shot.

I try to move again, and I manage to move my arm off the table. The straps pull me back down to the table with a slam.

HE’S ALIVE! Kelly yells.

The doctor turns around and examines me. He gets to my face and I push my head up and bite his nose.

The doctor screams in pain while Kelly runs out of sight

The doctor lands a punch to my stomach and I spit out his nose. He steps back, his nose is bleeding from teeth marks all around the bridge.

I taste the blood in my mouth and spit it back at him. It lands perfectly in the middle of his yellow suit. His nose is flooding the paper mask, turning it a deep red.

A door crashes open, causing me to try harder and harder to get away from the table.

Sedate him! I hear someone yell, that is when cold hands grab me all over, pinning me to the table. Suddenly, I feel a slight sting on the left side of my neck.

The last thing I hear is, Someone, go get Ares. as the world slowly goes black.

I am then left with nothing but my thoughts. Who’s Ares? Where am I? But the most important question is, WHO am I? All I can remember is seeing a flash of light and a wave of heat and pain. There was a deafening noise that must have been the cause of my memory loss. I can’t remember anything that has happened, ever.

While I sleep, I try desperately to try to put my memory together unsuccessfully. Ironic, most people ask Who am I when they see no purpose in life. I don’t know who I am.

Another problem is that I don’t know where I am currently, or why these people had to hold me down.

What the hell is happening here and why the hell am

I in the middle of all of it? Maybe I’m in a hospital.

Why? What have I done to end up in a hospital?

Then I remember the soldiers, who ran in the room with their guns pointed at me, ready and waiting for the order.

Where am I at, where soldiers would be able to enter a hospital

room in under a minute? Maybe I’m in a military hospital.

But I still have no idea as to why I am here. I start to feel sluggish and groggy, and I start to see more lights. I must be waking up from the shot they used.

I slowly come to, and the light isn’t from the sun like I originally thought it was. It looks like fluorescent lighting. I let my eyes adjust, little by little, to the lights and try to get a full look around the room. This is no hospital. There are lights hanging from poles, and I am in what looks to be a tent.

There are also two soldiers standing across from me at the entrance to the tent. They are wearing full military get-up, from the combat helmet and bulletproof vest, to the combat boots, all of which are pure black. The lower parts of their faces are covered by medical masks.

They stand guard, each holding a two-handed black rifle with a pistol on their hip. One of them is guarding the left of the door. While the other is standing on the right side of the table I am tied to.

The man at the door has a black eye. Meaning either I had a good hit, or some officer didn’t like how the soldier had handled the situation. I try to get up to move around, but I am held down by leather straps across my chest and legs. Each arm is held down by its own strap with an attached handcuff. The door man points his gun at me and informs me to remain still, or his gun may go off "accidentally".

I hear some shouting off in the distance that is getting closer and closer by the second. Then something that sounds like an explosion about 500 feet to my left. Then 400, 300, 200, … BOOM! I get sent spinning across the room like a ragdoll from the concussion wave. The table I’m strapped to hits one of the poles supporting the tent, and the table shatters in half.

I’m free now, but I’m dizzy from the blood rush and the spinning. For a moment there was silence, then gunfire erupts throughout the walls, or at least it seems like it. I watch the two guards get shot all over, but their armor saves them from any fatal shots, but they are left crippled in every limb.

After the shots stop two men entered the room. They are not wearing any uniforms, only regular clothing. The skinnier one wears a leather jacket that looks worn. Oddly enough, the jacket is a little small for him. He is also sporting combat boots and jeans.

The heavier set, black man is wearing some combat pants and boots. He wears a light jacket, almost like a windbreaker.

After the first two secure the room with the two injured guards, someone else walks in. A girl with snow white hair pulled back in a ponytail and deep blue eyes like the ocean that sparkle, even in the shitty lighting I am under. She is as tan as though she has been in the sun for a week straight. She isn’t dressed like the other two though. She only wears a grey shirt under a black leather bomber jacket, and her stripes run all the way around her arm at the bicep. She is wearing normal blue jeans, and standard military boots and she has a pendant around her neck. She looks to only be about 5 foot 7.

She looks to the man on her left Finish off those two and make it quick then looks to the other, Get him on his feet and ready to move. We don’t have much time left before reinforcements show up. The one soldier tries to get me to stand, but my legs collapse under the weight of my own body. He looks at me and sighs. He proceeds to pick me up, and fireman carries me on his shoulders. He starts to run, and I heard two gunshots in the distance. Then more explosions to cover our exit. I try to stay awake, but the blood rush and exhaustion knocks me out while we run towards the cover of the tree line.

As I start to pass out, I hear the skinner man carrying me yell Welcome to hell! Then I succumb to the darkness.

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II

I wake up around midday, we are resting in the woods inside a foxhole. I am in the hole with the guy who carried me out of the camp last night.

My savior is a mix of Russian and Asian with dark black hair covering his left eye. His usually pale skin is tan from the setting sun. His dark green eyes staring at me, I can see the fire in them. The pain he has endured, the fear he has faced, it makes me shudder where I lay. He is wearing an old green coat that he has the sleeves pushed up. There is a rip mark on the shoulder as if he tore something from it. He is in black jeans with brown combat boots.

Where are we? These are the first words I have been able to say since I have woken up.

So, I didn’t just drag your dead ass 13 miles for no reason. Good to know. Anyway, keep your voice down, we are still being hunted by those R.R. assholes. We are about 7 more miles from the base, and it would be nice if you could walk, so I don’t have to carry your sorry ass anymore. He spits out in a sour tone. I wonder what his deal is. Apparently, not too many people like me. Guess I’m not a people person.

Well thank you anyway for getting me out of there. I start.

Listen, your thanks don’t mean shit to me. If you are grateful, then make it all worth it. He spits back at me.

Make what all worth it?

I just lost my best friend to save your sorry ass from that hell where we should have left you. If you were dumb enough to get caught by the R.R. soldiers, you deserve to stay there.

I’m sorry for your loss- I’m interrupted

You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what we suffered through. Your words mean nothing to me so do us both a favor, and just shut the fuck up.

I now notice I’m wearing boots, jeans, a plain white V-neck t-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

Can I ask where I got the clothes, at least? I ask.

Sure, if it gets you to shut it. They were some of Rich’s clothes, turns out you two are the same size.

On that note, I stay quiet and he returns the silence. We wait in that hole for what feels like three days. Up until I