by G Sauvé
Young Will wipes his tear-stained cheeks and blows his nose. His eyes are still red, but he’s no longer crying.
“They’re not coming, are they?” asks Young Will, looking up at Grace. “They’re never coming.”
“Don’t give up. There’s always hope.”
I know she means well, yet I also know her words of encouragement do nothing to ebb the pain my younger self feels. Why? Because that was the moment I realized no amount of wishing or hoping would bring my parents back. I was an orphan, and I would remain one of the rest of my life. At least that’s what I thought at the time. But I soon forget all about that when I notice the package hidden behind Grace’s back.
I immediately recognize it. It’s the very same package she gave me on my fifteenth birthday, the one that contained the letter and the ring left for me by my mother. At first, I don’t understand why she has it, but then it hits me.
She was planning on giving it to me. She must have felt guilty about how upset I got when my birthday wish failed to come true and decided to give it to me earlier than was asked of her. As I stare at the present, I can’t help wondering why I didn’t receive it until a few weeks ago.
“They’re not coming back,” says Young Will. Only this time he’s not asking. He’s stating a fact. I can tell by his resolute expression and tear-filled eyes he has finally accepted the fact that his parents are never coming back.
“You don’t know—” begins Grace as she gets ready to give my younger self the present.
“Yes, I do!” yells Young Will as he jumps up. He scurries around Grace and hurries out of the kitchen, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Grace stands there for a few seconds, stunned. She stares at the present she failed to deliver, sets it down, and hurries off in pursuit of my younger self. I consider following her, but I already know what will happen. Five-Year-Old Will will run back to his bed and hide under the covers. Grace will try to console him for a few minutes, then failing to succeed, she will leave. Young Will will continue to cry until his tired little body gives out and he falls asleep.
I stare at the present. It’s such an innocuous-looking thing, yet I can’t help wondering how my life would have turned out if I hadn’t run off that night. What if Grace had given me the present? What would have happened? Would I still be here right now or would that one small detail have completely altered my childhood? I guess I’ll never know.
Suddenly, and for no particular reason, the world around me flickers out of sight. One second I’m staring at the present that threw my entire life into chaos, and the next I’m standing in total darkness.
Memory 58
T he darkness doesn’t last long. It fades quickly, yet the world it reveals fails to come into focus. I can make out a few tall buildings and what appears to be a massive glass dome hovering high above my head, but everything else is blurred nearly beyond recognition. Every few seconds the image becomes clear, but then my vision starts swimming again, and I’m left struggling to remain upright. I don’t understand what’s happening until I notice a man standing before me.
He staggers down the street, barely managing to stay straight. I can tell he’s drunk, but that doesn’t explain why I’m just as incapacitated. That is, not until I recognize the man.
It’s Jonn.
He’s a lot younger—his hair only has very minute traces of white, and his right arm is unmarred by scars—but it’s definitely him.
If the past few minutes have taught me anything, it’s that the most illogical explanation is usually the right one. Using this logic, I determine I’m currently trapped inside one of Jonn’s memories. Seeing how he was drunk out of his mind at the time, it’s only logical his memory is equally distorted.
I stagger down the street in pursuit of Jonn. At first, I’m tempted to study my surroundings as this may well be my only chance to visit Atlantis, but the effects of alcohol make it difficult to focus on any one point. Just remaining upright is a challenge. I thus forget about taking in the beauty of my surroundings and instead concentrate on following Jonn.
We zigzag down the street for a good fifteen minutes before the mostly black-haired soldier stops dead in his tracks. I somehow manage to focus on his face and find it frozen in horror. I don’t understand why until I follow his gaze and discover one of the nearby houses is on fire. Actually, two of them are. One is burned nearly beyond recognition while the other is still in the process of catching fire.
“Anna!” yells Jonn. “Kara!”
I don’t know who Anna is, but the mention of Kara’s name fills me with dread. I rush forward in pursuit of Jonn as he staggers toward the burning dwelling. He trips on more than one occasion but somehow manages to advance at a rapid pace. I keep up quite easily. I suspect that, as a mere observer, I suffer less intensely from the effects of alcohol poisoning.
We eventually reach the house, only to discover a small gathering of people. They stand around, talking in hushed tones as they watch the homes go up in flames.
“Where’s my wife?” demands Jonn, grabbing the first person he comes across. It’s a young man. He looks familiar, but I can’t figure out why. “Where’s my daughter?”
“I-I don’t know,” stutters the man. “We didn’t see anyone leave the house.”
Jonn shoves the man aside and rushes toward the less damaged of the two houses. A woman tries to stop him, but he pushes her aside and hurries on. He soon reaches the front door and grabs the handle, realizing too late that it’s glowing red. He yowls in pain and staggers back, but his retreat is only momentary. Struggling to maintain his balance, he kicks in the door. A ball of flame erupts from the opening, but he dives out of the way just in time. I get hit square in the face, but my inability to directly interact with the memory ensures I’m unharmed.
“Anna!” yells Jonn as he scrambles to his feet and, arms raised to protect himself from the flames, staggers into the burning residence. “Kara!” he screams as he advances. Flames rise on all sides, threatening to ignite the man’s alcohol-laden breath. He staggers on, struggling to get his bearings.
I follow close behind, unperturbed by the heat or the flames. I walk through walls of fire without even closing my eyes. I breathe in the thick, dark smoke that seems to fill every centimetre of my blurry surroundings yet my lungs remain undamaged. I can’t even smell the acrid odour of burning furniture. Only two of my senses are working, and they are that of sight and hearing.
The rumbling, crackling sound of the inferno is so overwhelming I can barely hear Jonn call out to his loved ones. But then I hear something that makes me forget all about the overpowering cacophony of the deadly blaze.
It’s the sound of a crying baby.
“I’M COMING!” yells Jonn as he staggers forward. He pushes through walls of fire and kicks down doors in search of his family. He eventually reaches what’s left of the living room and finds baby Kara, sitting alone in one of the only remaining undamaged areas of the house. Her cheeks are marred with soot, and she’s crying her little heart out, but she appears unharmed.
Jonn rushes forward and scoops her up. He staggers sideways, no doubt as a result of the alcohol that still courses through his veins, but remains upright.
“Daddy’s got you,” he mutters. “Daddy’s got you,” he repeats as he scans the room in search of his wife. We both spot her at the same time, unconscious and pinned beneath a fallen segment of the caved-in roof.
Jonn rushes to her and begins shaking her.
She doesn’t respond.
I fear she’s dead, but her eyelids flutter open. Her pupils dart around for a moment before settling on her husband’s face. A smile curls her lips.
“You came,” whispers Anna.
“I would do anything for you,” answers Jonn in a surprisingly gentle voice.
It’s a tender moment that’s shattered by the partial caving in of the ceiling. All three family members are unharmed, but it’s only a matter of time before that changes.
“I’ll get you out of here,” promises Jonn, handing baby Kara to his wife.
“No,” argues Anna, refusing the child. “I already tried. It’s too heavy.”
“I can do it,” insists Jonn, but Anna shakes her head. She peers deep into his eyes and smiles.
“Save our child,” she says. “Save Kara.”
Jonn hesitates but finally nods.
“Okay,” he says, standing up. “But I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
“I know you will,” she says, but I can tell she doesn’t believe it. If she did, why would she whisper “take care of her,” just as he leaves?
I follow Jonn as he retraces his steps to the front door. It’s a miracle he makes it out alive, but an even greater one that baby Kara is unharmed.
“Here,” he says, running to the same young man he interrogated upon his arrival and hands him his child. “Take care of her.”
The man frowns, and I suddenly recognize him. He may be much younger and a lot less angry-looking than I remember, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’s the same man who I once referred to as Angry Dude.
“Where’s Anna?” asks Arko. “Where’s my sister?”
Arko is Anna’s brother? That’s quite a bombshell, but I have virtually no time to process such information before Jonn runs off again.
“She’s still inside,” he yells over his shoulder as he rushes back toward the inferno. He now seems to have recovered from his alcohol poisoning, though it may merely be a temporary side effect of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. All that matters is that he reaches the living room in time. The fire has spread since the last time we were here, but Anna is still unharmed except for the massive piece of rubble that keeps her pinned.
“You came back,” says Anna. She sounds surprised.
“I promised, didn’t I?” says Jonn as he crouches next to her and grabs hold of the fallen ceiling fragment. He takes a deep breath, braces himself and lets the anger and sadness explode through his body. His muscles bulge and his face grows red, but the rubble won’t budge. He tries again and again, but it’s useless.
Anna is doomed, and there’s nothing Jonn can do about it. But that doesn’t keep him from trying. And trying. And trying.
“Stop,” finally says Anna, but Jonn ignores her and keeps fighting.
“Stop!” she repeats, but still her husband refuses to give up. It’s not until she yells at him that he finally ceases.
“You must go,” she says.
“No,” he growls, tears welling in his eyes. “I’ll never leave you.”
Anna smiles and gently caresses her husband’s cheek. “You must. Kara is depending on you. Don’t force her to grow up without a mother or a father.”
Jonn’s shoulders slump in defeat. He sinks to his knees and grabs hold of his wife. He cradles her in his arms as tears stream down his cheeks. Though neither of them can see me, I turn away to give them some privacy.
As I wait for the memory to end, I find myself inexplicably drawn to another memory, this one from my own past. I see Jonn cradling the dying lava worm that gave its life so he could escape the Plain of Pain after having valiantly led the T. rex that attacked us to its doom. I didn’t know it at the time, but Jonn wasn’t merely mourning the death of a brave worm, he was also reliving the most tragic moment of his entire existence.
I’m snapped out of my reverie by the sound of another section of the roof caving in. It misses Jonn and Anna by a good three metres, yet it’s enough to remind them that time is running out.
“You should go,” says Anna. She removes a pendant I hadn’t noticed and hands it to Jonn. I only see it for a moment before it vanishes within Jonn’s clenched fist, but I immediately recognize it as the locket the present-day Jonn wears beneath his shirt. I now understand why it means so much to him.
“I love you,” says Jonn as he places a final kiss on his wife’s lips.
“I love you too,” answers Anna. “Both of you,” she adds as her husband stands up.
Jonn throws her one final glance, then turns away and walks off. I hurry in pursuit, and he leads me through the burning inferno. The flames have now propagated to nearly every centimetre of the residence, and it’s difficult for him to find his way back to the front door. He almost makes it, but just before he reaches the entrance hall, the roof gives out, taking down the walls with it. Jonn dives out of the way just in time. He’s alive, but trapped.
He glances around, but there’s no way out. The fire has closed the gap through which he entered, and flames now dance all around him. Any normal person would have given up, but Jonn refuses to accept defeat. Picking a direction at random, he raises his arms in front of him and barrels through the flames.
I follow, unaffected by the heat. I advance through the fire, expecting to hit a dead end, but the flames go on and on. I fear it will never end, but then I emerge from the blaze and find myself standing in the open. The collapse must have opened a breach in the wall, and Jonn got lucky.
Speaking of Jonn, he now rolls on the ground, struggling to extinguish his right arm, which is ablaze with orange flames. It takes a few seconds, but he eventually manages to put out the fire. Most of his right arm and part of his hand are badly burned, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He barely even winces as he stands and marches over to his brother-in-law.
“What happened?” asks Arko, still holding his niece and doing his best not to stare at Jonn’s melted skin. “Where’s Anna?”
“Where did the fire start?” asks Jonn, ignoring Arko’s question.
“It s-started next d-door,” stutters the young man as he releases baby Kara with one hand and points to the neighbouring house, which is now nothing more than a pile of burning rubble.
“Did anyone survive?” asks Jonn.
“I-I think so, but…” begins Arko, but he his voice trails off when he realizes Jonn isn’t listening.
Jonn stares at the now imposing crowd that has gathered to watch the fire. Faces blend together, but one stands out from the rest due to the look of utter disbelief that is plastered across it.
It’s Avalon.
She looks younger. And prettier. Her scar is red instead of the faded white I’m accustomed to, indicating that whatever caused it happened recently. The final detail I notice is the bundle she clutches in her arms. I try to make out what it is, but I can’t.
Avalon spots Jonn, and their eyes lock. Her disbelief slowly transforms into guilt. Her shoulders slump as her eyes light up with a mixture of fear and shame. Her gaze drops and her head falls. Moments later, she takes a step back and gets swallowed by the crowd.
Jonn takes a step forward, but baby Kara starts crying. The soldier hesitates. I can tell he wants to pursue her, but he made a promise to Anna. He tears his gaze from the crowd and retrieves his child from Arko’s arms.
“Don’t worry,” he tells the crying infant as he rocks her tenderly. “I’ll keep you safe.” After a few moments of silence, he adds, “And I’ll avenge your mother’s death if it’s the last thing I do.”
Jonn’s vow is the last thing I witness before the world around me begins to fade. Within seconds, all that remains in darkness. Nothing happens for a while, and I’m starting to wonder if I will ever escape this infinite void when something unexpected happens.
I wake up.
Memory 59
T he first thing I see is Kara’s face. Under normal circumstances, I would be happy to see her, but the horror of Jonn’s memory is still fresh in my mind, and all I see when I look at her is that crying baby.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“Like crap,” I groan.
Kara chuckles.
“At least you’re alive.”
“Am I?” I ask as I struggle into a seated position. A wave of nausea slams into me and nearly knocks me over. My head throbs and my vision is blurry. My skin feels sticky, though I’m not sure why. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. It helps somewhat, but it takes a while before I da
re open them again. One look at my surroundings reveals I’m back in the Mesozoic era.
“What happened?” I groan, my head now throbbing. My entire body feels numb, but I pay it no mind.
“You don’t remember?” asks Kara.
I shake my head, which only makes the pain worse.
“You—” she begins, but a voice cuts her off.
“What the drowned happened?” asks Jonn.
“Oh my god!” I gasp at the sight of him. “What happened to you?”
“What?” he asks, patting himself down in search of injuries. He has no open wounds, yet he’s disfigured. Massive welts riddle his entire body, giving the impression he was in a cartoon fight and is now suffering the exaggerated side effects of getting his butt handed to him.
“You’re hideous,” I say.
“You’re one to talk.”
At first, I think he’s merely insulting me, but then I catch sight of my arm, and I realize he’s right. I’m just as disfigured as him, if not more.
“I’m… I’m revolting,” I stutter.
“Yes,” agrees Jonn. “You are.”
“He’s not that bad,” says Kara. “In fact, he’s kind of cute.”
I glance at my friend. She’s unaffected by whatever mysterious disease caused Jonn’s and my hideous transformation. Once again, I’m reminded Kara is no ordinary girl. Still, it’s rather strange that she escaped whatever fate befell Jonn and me.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, still slightly confused by Kara’s appearance. “I’m a me—Wait! Did you say you think I’m cute?”
Kara blushes, but only slightly.
“What happened to us?” asks Jonn before Kara can answer my question.
“You got stung,” explains Kara.
“By what?” I ask, but the memory of the giant mosquitos comes rushing back before my friend answers. I can tell by Jonn’s facial expression he also remembers the attack.
“What were those things?” he asks. At first, I’m confused, but then I remember he lives in an underwater city.
“Mosquitos,” I say. “Flying insects that drink your blood. They’re quite common where I come from, though this is the first time I see such massive ones.”