08-19-2018, 04:50 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-19-2018, 05:07 PM by Jay Carpenter.)
He drove with one hand clenching the wheel, the other propped against the rim of the window. Both thumbs tapped the leather like a drum along with the music. At one point, he turned up the volume when a particular song crossed the radio. Last time he heard it, he was crossing the countryside in a truck hours from failing and abandoning him in the snow. It wasn't snowing now. A spring clung to the flat horizon. Here and there, tufts of green brave- or stupid-enough, showed themselves early. A risk on the part of the plant, making them vulnerable to spring frosts as much as spring storms. In this part of the world, either extremes were just as likely, either with catastrophic results. At least on the part of the plant.
The two-lane highway rolled endlessly along as mundane and homogenous as acre after acre of empty fields. The only sign of the passage of time was the slightly different billboard decorating one side of the road versus the other. A green sign pointing the way to distant hubs of people that barely qualified as a town down one lane or another.
It was home. A horizon that promised something on the other side but human eyes simply couldn't strain hard enough to glimpse it. Home stretched unobscured, treeless, buildingless, empty, but not alone. Not necessarily.
He turned from the main road onto one whose pavement was dimpled with age. The rented vehicle was only a few years old, and rolled fairly smoothly over the terrain, but the passengers jostled none the less. "Short-cut," Jay explained as the engine revved. They flew along the road almost twice the posted speed-limit. Jay didn't care. Nobody policed this stretch, though perhaps they should. Old wooden crosses dotted the ditches once in a while, marking places of former accidents now forgotten.
From this road split dirt-paths that led sometimes to distant farmhouses and sometimes to seeming nothingness. But mailboxes marked their entrance. Someone lived down those dirty lanes. Another one off another road would take him to Jay's house. It darkened his face to think about. They were getting closer. One dirt road pulled his attention as they rolled by, memories overwhelming him like a flash flood. He picked up Anna Marie, the cheerleader he took to senior prom, as she stepped out onto the front porch ready for prom. He remembered thinking she was gorgeous in those smooth blue skirts. He put flowers on her wrist and waited to slip his hands on her waist until the view of her dad was long gone. Anna Marie was a hell of a lot of fun. Although he wasn't ignorant of whispers behind her back, of the names others called her.
She was some sort of pharmacist in town now, the one that mom brought up last time he was home. Light of all that was good and holy, don't let her be working at the hospital. He exhaled like the memories might get shoved someplace less accessible in his mind.
The shortcut ended with the turn onto another highway. A minute later, houses filled in. Then a gas-station, the cost per gallon outrageously high. The building was pockmarked with signs of old protests. Boards covered half of the windows never replaced. But the store clung to life anyway.
A decent sized town revealed itself. Post-office was shut down for the weekend. The grocery store was still dark. A pizza restaurant was closed up, boarded for permanent closure. Downtown was no less depressing. Jay was somewhat relieved to see the hot-dog/pool hall/bar remained. That place was a shithole, but had the best food in the county. Lots of memories.
Ten minutes after arriving, he pulled into the hospital parking lot. It was a two-story building constructed some fifty years ago. Age didn't settle well upon the shoulders of this old girl.
Blood pumped fresh through his veins as he seized the power for the first time since landing. The eyes of a soldier scanned the perimeter, though a growing weight in his chest gave him warning. The building was far more similar to the hospital in Freetown. The same double-levels. The same flat exterior. The same bottleneck entrance. Temne-units overran it, the Mende slaughtered. Doctors, nurses, other staff, the patients, the vulnerable -- it didn't matter. They were all caught in the crossfire. The building represented the town. A hub. Control. Then burned.
Jay pushed his eyes closed. Temne soldiers moved with blind fury through the halls, kicking in doors and shooting any resistance. All because the president laid vulnerable in surgery. Anyone standing between them and the president were fodder.
Legio Patria Nostra he said to himself, hoping after he did that the words didn't escape his lips like a whisper. The promise had been the last thing he said before they kicked in the front door for themselves, plunged into the smoke, and searched for Natalie.
He shook off before the tide yanked him under. All the fatigue was gone. He blinked and the pressure-doors whooshed open almost in the next heartbeat. He didn't remember running..
He skid to a halt. Cayli could be anywhere..
A help desk..
"Cayli Carpenter's room," he said as he raced to the receptionist. An elderly lady looked up at him, and slowly input information into the computer system. Jay's fists opened and closed, foot swiveling like any second he'd turn and sprint away.
The lobby was sparsely populated this time of day. Two staffers walked in a pair. An elderly man shuffled along, bearing a sack of breakfast and nursing a cup of coffee. A man with a young child walked hand-in-hand. It was the sole man seemingly slumbering in a chair along the wall that Jay studied most closely. He was thick with muscle, dark-haired, and wearing jeans and boots. His jaw clenched. Zacarias could have arranged for an assassin this soon, but Jay let the power continue to give him the edge. The man was legitimately asleep. The slow drawing of his breath was easy, smooth. His muscles were limp. The man was asleep. No assassin standing guard, waiting for their arrival.
The woman's voice yanked his attention away. "Room 119 East."
Jay ran to the east corridor. One, three, five.. eleven...
He skid to a stop outside of 119. The door was slightly ajar, the room dark within but for the dim glow of dawn breeching the shades.
He swallowed. Staring at the door. There were no sounds within. No television. No talking. No shuffling. He focused on it, power giving him strength. A steady beep. The churn of a pump. Not dead.. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not dead. They made it on time.
He bit the inside of his lip. Scrubbed his hair. Tugged his sleeves and readied to face whatever was inside.
He reached for the handle. Ready to push it open. When the call of his name slammed like the chains of a collar clicked around his throat.
"Jay?"
The power rippled angry, still waters disturbed. Gaze unblinking, he turned to face his dad.
The last time they saw one another, a pack slung over Jay's shoulders, sunglasses rimmed his temples, jaw tight with promises - some of them unfulfilled - some of them upheld. He promised to send money. To help them from afar. Fuck the farm, he said angrily one night, knowing that it wounded his father's pride and legacy far more than anything else he'd ever done in defiance. What was legacy of land, soil and sweat, when sons and daughters died before their time?
"How did you get here?" Shock shook his voice. His eyes were sunken. The skin across his lips drawn. He'd never seen his dad so frail-appearing. He looked old. Tired. Worn. Jay frowned. Like hell he was going to explain that his good friend the great evil overlord of the world Ascendancy arranged it all.
"I can save her," he quickly explained.
His dad blinked like he didn't hear. "What?"
"Well. I can't. But I brought someone who can." He waved Jensen closer.
His dad's gaze swiveled to drink in sight of the stranger. He was unlikely to recognize the Texan t.v. preacher. Mom would be a different story.
"I don't understand," he responded, wary of the promise. Jay's promises were works in progress, for the most part, as far as he was concerned.
"You don't have to," he said and pushed the door open, ushering Jensen inside as quickly as possible. He begged the man to hurry.
Shadowy shapes filed into the room. Mother flinched from sleep, jumping to her feet from a recliner. Darkness hovered in the corners, shadows of machines and pumps and poles thrown around the walls ominously. But Jay was at the bedside in two steps. The ridges of his fourteen year old baby sister's body barely demarcated beneath sheets.
She opened her eyes when he sank close. He put his palm on her forehead, clammy and damp. She hadn't showered in days, it seemed. Probably didn't have the strength. The power gave him strength enough for the both of them, though. For once. He smiled as her eyes fluttered open. "Hey kiddo.." His voice was softer than he expected it to be. It took her a moment for recognition to settle, but when it did, he buried his face in her neck and hugged her frail skeleton. He felt her sobs like they were his own.
"It's going to be okay now. I'm here."
His mom's voice lifted, but Jay did not. Hands laid on his back. Her voice growing more frantic by the second. But his gut was in knots that wouldn't untangle until it was done. Light pray that Jensen hurried. That it worked.
It had to work.
But then he had a single, paralyzing thought.. What if it doesn't work?
The two-lane highway rolled endlessly along as mundane and homogenous as acre after acre of empty fields. The only sign of the passage of time was the slightly different billboard decorating one side of the road versus the other. A green sign pointing the way to distant hubs of people that barely qualified as a town down one lane or another.
It was home. A horizon that promised something on the other side but human eyes simply couldn't strain hard enough to glimpse it. Home stretched unobscured, treeless, buildingless, empty, but not alone. Not necessarily.
He turned from the main road onto one whose pavement was dimpled with age. The rented vehicle was only a few years old, and rolled fairly smoothly over the terrain, but the passengers jostled none the less. "Short-cut," Jay explained as the engine revved. They flew along the road almost twice the posted speed-limit. Jay didn't care. Nobody policed this stretch, though perhaps they should. Old wooden crosses dotted the ditches once in a while, marking places of former accidents now forgotten.
From this road split dirt-paths that led sometimes to distant farmhouses and sometimes to seeming nothingness. But mailboxes marked their entrance. Someone lived down those dirty lanes. Another one off another road would take him to Jay's house. It darkened his face to think about. They were getting closer. One dirt road pulled his attention as they rolled by, memories overwhelming him like a flash flood. He picked up Anna Marie, the cheerleader he took to senior prom, as she stepped out onto the front porch ready for prom. He remembered thinking she was gorgeous in those smooth blue skirts. He put flowers on her wrist and waited to slip his hands on her waist until the view of her dad was long gone. Anna Marie was a hell of a lot of fun. Although he wasn't ignorant of whispers behind her back, of the names others called her.
She was some sort of pharmacist in town now, the one that mom brought up last time he was home. Light of all that was good and holy, don't let her be working at the hospital. He exhaled like the memories might get shoved someplace less accessible in his mind.
The shortcut ended with the turn onto another highway. A minute later, houses filled in. Then a gas-station, the cost per gallon outrageously high. The building was pockmarked with signs of old protests. Boards covered half of the windows never replaced. But the store clung to life anyway.
A decent sized town revealed itself. Post-office was shut down for the weekend. The grocery store was still dark. A pizza restaurant was closed up, boarded for permanent closure. Downtown was no less depressing. Jay was somewhat relieved to see the hot-dog/pool hall/bar remained. That place was a shithole, but had the best food in the county. Lots of memories.
Ten minutes after arriving, he pulled into the hospital parking lot. It was a two-story building constructed some fifty years ago. Age didn't settle well upon the shoulders of this old girl.
Blood pumped fresh through his veins as he seized the power for the first time since landing. The eyes of a soldier scanned the perimeter, though a growing weight in his chest gave him warning. The building was far more similar to the hospital in Freetown. The same double-levels. The same flat exterior. The same bottleneck entrance. Temne-units overran it, the Mende slaughtered. Doctors, nurses, other staff, the patients, the vulnerable -- it didn't matter. They were all caught in the crossfire. The building represented the town. A hub. Control. Then burned.
Jay pushed his eyes closed. Temne soldiers moved with blind fury through the halls, kicking in doors and shooting any resistance. All because the president laid vulnerable in surgery. Anyone standing between them and the president were fodder.
Legio Patria Nostra he said to himself, hoping after he did that the words didn't escape his lips like a whisper. The promise had been the last thing he said before they kicked in the front door for themselves, plunged into the smoke, and searched for Natalie.
He shook off before the tide yanked him under. All the fatigue was gone. He blinked and the pressure-doors whooshed open almost in the next heartbeat. He didn't remember running..
He skid to a halt. Cayli could be anywhere..
A help desk..
"Cayli Carpenter's room," he said as he raced to the receptionist. An elderly lady looked up at him, and slowly input information into the computer system. Jay's fists opened and closed, foot swiveling like any second he'd turn and sprint away.
The lobby was sparsely populated this time of day. Two staffers walked in a pair. An elderly man shuffled along, bearing a sack of breakfast and nursing a cup of coffee. A man with a young child walked hand-in-hand. It was the sole man seemingly slumbering in a chair along the wall that Jay studied most closely. He was thick with muscle, dark-haired, and wearing jeans and boots. His jaw clenched. Zacarias could have arranged for an assassin this soon, but Jay let the power continue to give him the edge. The man was legitimately asleep. The slow drawing of his breath was easy, smooth. His muscles were limp. The man was asleep. No assassin standing guard, waiting for their arrival.
The woman's voice yanked his attention away. "Room 119 East."
Jay ran to the east corridor. One, three, five.. eleven...
He skid to a stop outside of 119. The door was slightly ajar, the room dark within but for the dim glow of dawn breeching the shades.
He swallowed. Staring at the door. There were no sounds within. No television. No talking. No shuffling. He focused on it, power giving him strength. A steady beep. The churn of a pump. Not dead.. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not dead. They made it on time.
He bit the inside of his lip. Scrubbed his hair. Tugged his sleeves and readied to face whatever was inside.
He reached for the handle. Ready to push it open. When the call of his name slammed like the chains of a collar clicked around his throat.
"Jay?"
The power rippled angry, still waters disturbed. Gaze unblinking, he turned to face his dad.
The last time they saw one another, a pack slung over Jay's shoulders, sunglasses rimmed his temples, jaw tight with promises - some of them unfulfilled - some of them upheld. He promised to send money. To help them from afar. Fuck the farm, he said angrily one night, knowing that it wounded his father's pride and legacy far more than anything else he'd ever done in defiance. What was legacy of land, soil and sweat, when sons and daughters died before their time?
"How did you get here?" Shock shook his voice. His eyes were sunken. The skin across his lips drawn. He'd never seen his dad so frail-appearing. He looked old. Tired. Worn. Jay frowned. Like hell he was going to explain that his good friend the great evil overlord of the world Ascendancy arranged it all.
"I can save her," he quickly explained.
His dad blinked like he didn't hear. "What?"
"Well. I can't. But I brought someone who can." He waved Jensen closer.
His dad's gaze swiveled to drink in sight of the stranger. He was unlikely to recognize the Texan t.v. preacher. Mom would be a different story.
"I don't understand," he responded, wary of the promise. Jay's promises were works in progress, for the most part, as far as he was concerned.
"You don't have to," he said and pushed the door open, ushering Jensen inside as quickly as possible. He begged the man to hurry.
Shadowy shapes filed into the room. Mother flinched from sleep, jumping to her feet from a recliner. Darkness hovered in the corners, shadows of machines and pumps and poles thrown around the walls ominously. But Jay was at the bedside in two steps. The ridges of his fourteen year old baby sister's body barely demarcated beneath sheets.
She opened her eyes when he sank close. He put his palm on her forehead, clammy and damp. She hadn't showered in days, it seemed. Probably didn't have the strength. The power gave him strength enough for the both of them, though. For once. He smiled as her eyes fluttered open. "Hey kiddo.." His voice was softer than he expected it to be. It took her a moment for recognition to settle, but when it did, he buried his face in her neck and hugged her frail skeleton. He felt her sobs like they were his own.
"It's going to be okay now. I'm here."
His mom's voice lifted, but Jay did not. Hands laid on his back. Her voice growing more frantic by the second. But his gut was in knots that wouldn't untangle until it was done. Light pray that Jensen hurried. That it worked.
It had to work.
But then he had a single, paralyzing thought.. What if it doesn't work?
Only darkness shows you the light.