The Used

By Theresa Jacobs

607 people go missing every single day without a trace.
Jeremy Samuelson an ex Canadian Security Intelligence Service agent is one of them.
Four months after his mysterious disappearance, Jeremy reappears, but in his mind no time has passed.
The government fear another country had taken him to use against Canada. They worry he's been implanted with a devious plan deep in his psyche, to active as needed. Through forced hypnosis he begins to remember things.
Strange otherworldly things, that neither himself or the government can believe, and other people. People who he remembers he cares about, and who he will need.
Jeremy sets off , against the governments wishes, to reunite his amnesic friends and bring back their memories, to prepare them for a fight to save the entire universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theresa Jacobs
• Release date: Nov 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463267844

Theresa Jacobs

Theresa Jacobs believes in magic, fairies, dragons, and ghosts. Yet she trusts science and thinks that aliens know way too much. When she is not at work she spends her time, reading, writing, exercising her dog, and binge-watching TV shows, with her longtime partner and fiancé.She is also a big movie buff and a sci-fi nerd at heart.

Book preview

The Used

© 2018

Originally concepted by Jim Jacobs

Written by Theresa Jacobs

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters and places are of the writer's imagination, and any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book in any manner whatsoever, without permission of the author.

This book is dedicated to my father Jim Jacobs, who originally created Jeremy, Joan, and Ed and an idea of what happens when people disappear. He allowed me to take his beginning and run with it, to turn it into a story that grew a life all its own. I can only hope he’s proud of the end result, and that you all, my new readers, will enjoy it as well.

Great thanks must go to my editor Gari Strawn, for her keen eye, and many read throughs.

Also, to my newest beta reader, Lacey Lane who catches all the silly things we miss, no matter how many times we re-read.

Therefore, any errors left behind are all of my own doing – we are after all only human.

To the grand cover creator, Eric Lathi, I can’t thank you enough for your talent and dedication to making a spectacular work of art.

Eric Lahti is an author of urban fantasy with a bit of a twist.

Eric Lahti grew up hunting for UFOs and buried treasure in northwest New Mexico. He never found any UFOs or treasure, but he did find a lot of stories.

He currently resides in Albuquerque with his wife, his son, and one remaining dog. He studies and teaches Kenpo, writes software to track trains, and tries to be an all-around good guy.

http://ericlahti.com/

Bibliography

Novels

Cataclysm

Kept

The Used

Novellas

Sudden Death

The Cimmerians

Wife ‘n’ Death

Anthologies

Shrouded Voices

Things only the darkness knows

My other friends & more stories

100 Word Horrors

A world unimagined

Kids Books

The lonely leaf

Puddle jumping

Poetry

Spewed thoughts

Table of Contents

1.Jeremy

2.Dabria

3. Amell

4. Lela

5. Soul Searching

6. Out of Session

7. Finding Normal

8. Angry

9. Hypnosis

10. Connecting

(a) Something to do

(b) Rebuilding

(c)  Living

11. The Truth

12. Together again

13. Time’s up

14. Preparations

15. War

16. Win or Lose

17. End Game

18. Home again

19. Two years later

1. Jeremy

The water mesmerized Jeremy, appearing to slow at the edge before spilling over to hammer the rocks below.  He came to this, his meditation spot, to reflect on his students, upcoming martial arts tournaments, to ponder new ideas for his classes, and how to improve as a teacher.

He tended to drown out the deafening roar which was ironic as Niagara Falls was in itself a deafening roar. The mist rose to vibrant rainbows over the falls. He felt a sudden chill as it settled on his bare arms and found it odd. The temperature must have dropped, he thought. Usually the mist was a slight reprieve from the humidity of summer and only if a storm was brewing would it be this cool.

As Jeremy lifted his eyes to the still cloudless blue sky, he noticed the trees across the river wore the colourful coat of autumn. His brow furrowed as he gazed along the Niagara Falls, New York, skyline. All the leaves had turned colour. The maple, birch, and oak trees bore bright red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves of late fall.  

Yet it was only June.

Confused, Jeremy turned. It was all green and hot when I got here, he thought, when he spotted a tour group nearby. The tourists, a multicultural mix of colours and languages, were all dressed in thick coats, most with hoods, or gloves. All with cameras. The tour guide droned on, The distance between the American Falls and the Canadian side is 3,409 feet. During the summer months, at least 100,000 cubic feet per second of water traverses the falls...

Jeremy stopped listening. He’d left the house at 3:00 p.m. sharp, June 8th, he looked up to the sun again. It was high in the sky, and for some weird...inexplicable...crazy reason it was now autumn, and approximately noon.

What’s going on? he said out loud, causing a few of the tourists to look over at him.

Wanting to talk to Joan, he rushed past the group and up Murray St. towards the pay-lot where he always parked his car and kept his cell phone. Entering the half-empty lot—again another oddity today—during the hottest months finding parking was the most stressful part of the day. Now he could see about twenty vehicles, SUVs mostly, but not his midnight-metallic blue Stingray. It wasn’t where he left it an hour ago, and it wasn’t elsewhere in the lot either.

Okay, I do not need this right now. Jeremy’s ire mixed with his confusion, and he wished he'd stayed home.

Though he was cold, he had little recourse but to take the thirteen-minute trek to the Niagara Parks Police Station. He cut along Fallsview Boulevard. behind the large casino, taking a shortcut through a portion of the shopping area, coming out onto Robinson street. From there it was a quick jaunt through Victoria Park and out to the stately 1928 historic building.

Jeremy approached the glass window and saw a young communications officer talking in a low voice on the phone. From the man's tone, Jeremy deduced that he was speaking with either a girlfriend or wife and let the man have his moment. As soon as the phone left the officer’s ear, Jeremy stepped forward, took in the name badge and said, Good afternoon, Officer Marcus, I would like to report a stolen vehicle, please.

Yes sir, Officer Marcus responded in kind. Your name, where the vehicle was last located, make and model?

My name is Jeremy P. Samuelson. I parked in the Imax pay-lot at 3:15 this afternoon. My car is a 1963 Corvette Stingray…

Officer Marcus gave a low whistle as he typed in the information the man before him was laying out. She sounds like a beaut! I had a ‘57 Chevy for awhile... He stopped talking as an alert appeared in the center of his computer screen.  The officer looked from his screen to Jeremy and typed some more and asked, You are Jeremy P. Samuelson? What is your current address?

42 Salina street, St. Catharines.

Can you wait here a moment, sir?

Where am I going to go? Fed up, Jeremy moved to the wooden bench against the wall taking a seat. His head was feeling foggy, and he noticed the sun was setting, it would be dark soon. Another conundrum to add to today. At the peak of summer, it shouldn’t get dark until nine p.m. He checked his watch, it read 4:55 p.m.

A door popped open on his left, Officer Marcus cleared his throat. Mr. Samuelson, can you come with me, sir?

Jeremy threw up his hands. Why not? This day can’t get any weirder. Moving past the young officer, he asked, What day is it?

Sir? Officer Marcus frowned.

What day is it?

It’s Wednesday.

Jeremy shook his head. He wanted to press for the actual date, but held back, for some reason afraid of the answer. He figured he’d go with the flow for now and think of the strange weather later.

The young officer led Jeremy to a small interrogation room that housed a metal table, four simple chairs, and a two-way mirror.

Am I under arrest, Officer? Jeremy asked plainly.

No, no, not at all sir. Inspector Robert Davidson wants to speak in private with you. He motioned to the table. Please sit and I will bring you a coffee. What do you take?

Black, please. Jeremy sat in one of the cold, hard chairs, his mind travelling a million miles an hour. When he left his house that afternoon it was hot, it was June. What happened to me? he wondered, touching his head to feel if he had any bumps.

A minute later, the door opened again. Officer Marcus stepped in to hand Jeremy his coffee and did a quick turn about to scuttle out as a large red-faced bald man stepped into the room.

I’m Inspector Davidson. The robust man held out his hand to Jeremy, gave him a perfunctory shake and sat across from him. You claim to be Jeremy P. Samuelson, is that correct?

Claim to be? Jeremy sat back folding his arms across his chest. There is no ‘claim’ about it. That is who I am. Do you care to tell me what’s going on here, Inspector?

Do you have any I.D. on you?

Jeremy reached into his back pocket and tossed his wallet on the table. He held the law in the highest regard but was not going to be disrespected at every turn. And I asked you a question.

The Inspector opened Jeremy’s wallet, drew out his license, health card, and lastly his Air Force-retired-ID and Canadian Security Intelligence Service-retired ID. Please bear with me, Mr. Samuelson. The inspector handed Jeremy his wallet. You understand the need for national security and that it’s my duty to ensure you are in fact, without any hint of doubt, Jeremy P. Samuelson.

Exasperated, understanding that he would not get out of the station anytime soon without playing along, Jeremy took a big swig of the cooling coffee. What do you need?

Your history to start, if you please? The big man leaned back emitting a vibe that he had all the time in the world.

When I was five, I wanted to be a jet fighter…

Inspector Davidson cleared his throat, Your wife is on her way. Try again.

Jeremy felt the heat rush to his face. Joan was coming here? But why? Alright, I’ll speed this along shall I?

Please do.

I have a photographic memory. Until today that is, he thought. When I was twenty, I was the youngest ever to graduate from the Canadian Air Force Academy with top honors in computer science, weapons, and communications. I am a retired senior officer for Canadian Security Intelligence Service, therefore I know a little something about our need for security. His nostrils flared with ire, but he continued, When I decided to leave CSIS, I opened my own martial arts studio with my friend Ed Graft. Jeremy had been reading the inspector’s face as he spoke, and he deduced that he’d given enough information as the man’s stern expression relaxed. Is that enough, or shall I go on?.

Inspector Davidson held up his hand. I believe you. When I tell you why I had to go through this charade, you’ll understand.

Well, I’m waiting.

Mr. Samuelson... Inspector Davidson paused, leaned forward, lowering his voice, you’ve been missing for nearly four months.

Jeremy rocked back in his chair, his eyes widening, his mouth opened and closed like a hungry carp. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he digested the information, and thought it through rationally. When he was at the river, he knew it was mid-June and hot, but the trees' fall colors and the damp coldness of approaching winter proved he was wrong. His car was missing from a nearly empty lot. He shook his head staring into the inspector’s face. There was no trace of tricky, or a humorous ‘gotcha’ smirk, the man was dead serious.

Me? Missing? Four months? Jeremy stammered, unbelieving.

A gentle rap on the door brought both men’s heads to turn. It popped open a foot and Officer Marcus’s solemn countenance appeared. Sir?

The inspector nodded to Marcus. Yes, bring her in. To Jeremy, he said, Your wife is here and wants to see you. I’ll leave you two alone for a while, but then we have much to discuss.

Jeremy stood, still in disbelief, until Joan walked in. Her normally long dark locks were cut in a short boyish style and were no longer auburn, but a silver gray. Again, his mouth dropped open, only nothing came out.

Upon seeing Jeremy, Joan rushed in, tears came instantly as she dove into his arms, sending him staggering back two feet and knocking into the wall. It’s true! Oh Jeremy, I can’t believe it’s really you! She planted wet kisses over his cheeks and forehead. Where have you been? What happened to you? Are you alright? She gushed on, not giving her husband one second to respond.

Joan, Joan...stop. Jeremy placed his hands