Chapters (42)
- BENEATH THE DARK ICE
- Table of Contents
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Epilogue
- One
- Two
- Three
After the first few rages, and the realisation that they looked to be part of the package that had come with the physical upgrade, he had been happy that Angie wasn’t in his life anymore. If he had ever hurt her, even while thrashing in his sleep, he may have been driven to turn that murderous fury back on himself.
Alex’s superiors had quickly shut down any further testing by the hospital and allowed him to complete his recovery at a private house owned by the United States military on the northeast coast of Australia. The brass were keen to ensure Alex’s psychological rehabilitation was as complete as the physical improvements as soon as possible. No psycho-suppressant drugs had worked with Alex; his body would overwhelm any chemical with more natural stimulants of its own; that battle could only end in one of two ways—Alex’s heart exploding in his chest or a massive embolism in his midbrain. The military psychologists had managed to provide him with some tailored sensory techniques that allowed him to gain control of his furies and at least keep him out of the hands of the chemists. Alex smiled to himself. He was living one of the techniques right now; salt, sea and sand always helped him to unwind. He only had to mention it to the doctors and here he was—his simple task was to upload the sensory experiences and play them back in his mind to inject a wave of calm into his consciousness. However, he also had a secret safeguard, a smell, a redolence, one that immediately soothed him even during the most lethal of rages; he simply imagined the fragrance of fresh green apples.
It was working for him. The military had their first super soldier by accident, and as long as he was available for further testing, he would be allowed to stay on the active duty list. But Alex Hunter was now like a caged lion—training up to six hours a day and still not fatiguing, he needed something more than further exercise or drills. He judged himself fit for duty and was looking forward to the promised call from his superior and mentor, Major Jack Hammerson. As he drew in one last breath, he smiled. “Holidays are over,” he said quietly to himself.