by Bialois, CP
I’d hope so, he thought. In another month, maybe two, Buster would be able to jump over the gate without a second’s thought. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that, but he thought she already knew. “So, we’re letting him out?”
Janice shrugged. “That’s the plan.”
Buster seemed to know what they were planning, so he tried to help Horace with the latch. His tongue and saliva only made the latch slippery and harder to undo, but Horace succeeded after a couple of tries.
*****
As he suspected, the buttered bread had been sprinkled with garlic salt. While not the most artistic in nature, the effect blended well with the lasagna. While the meal wouldn’t pass the scrutiny of a typical Italian lover, it was far better than he could’ve done on his own. Horace pushed his plate away after three helpings
“Finished already?” Janice watched him with a smile. “Good thing I bought the family size.” There were two things about men she learned over the last couple of years. The first being, if a man is allowed to, he’d eat like a pig. And second, he’d eat one out of house and home. Knowing those facts and seeing them in operation, she couldn’t help but wonder how Horace stayed so thin. If she ate half of what he did, she’d buy stock in one of those diet companies.
Horace patted his flat stomach and smiled. Being proud of himself was one thing but to help Janice feel good about her meal, even if store bought, went unparalleled. “I couldn’t eat another bite.” He responded after stifling a belch.
Shaking her head, she put the empty cardboard container on the floor for Buster. She knew it wasn’t healthy or smart to feed a dog table scraps, but she couldn’t stop pampering her little boy. When she looked up, she changed that to her boys. Watching Horace go about clearing the table in preparation for that night’s movie, Caddyshack, she could only smile and shake her head. At least Horace was housebroken.
*****
Franklin remained unmoving except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Even his eyes barely moved as he counted the black spots in the drop ceiling tiles. It was something he started doing to keep his mind active. He exhausted the line of thought based on figuring out what the tiles were made of earlier and settled on them being made of some sort of cardboard or fiberglass threads.
Asking the nurses hadn’t helped as they didn’t know and only smiled at him, asking, “Can we get you anything?” Each time he shook his head or said no, but he was curious as to how they’d react if he asked for a fifth of scotch or a line of cocaine. He never touched either of them, he was a beer drinker, but it was hard for him to not imagine the looks he’d get.
Yet, on some level of consciousness he knew what they’d say or do if he asked, thus he decided to entertain himself with counting the black marks on the surface of the tiles. What caused those marks? He wondered, but didn’t lose count. If he did, then he’d have to start over and he didn’t want that to happen. The longer he could keep his mind active, the longer he hoped to keep the images away. Not yet sure he was insane, he felt himself slipping.
“Why do you resist so? Are you that ungrateful?”
Franklin’s eyes flew open and he slammed his hands on the mattress at his sides. He was sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. Although he didn’t look, he could sense Tanok to his left. “Leave me alone.” His voice was low and his anger was beginning to boil.
“It is not up to you or me. I helped you, will make you a hero and all you do is fight against me.”
Tanok didn’t move, Franklin was sure of that, but somehow his face became clear and unhindered by the shadows.
Franklin pushed himself into a sitting position. “You helped me? My life’s been turned upside down since you appeared. Anyway… you don’t exist.”
Tanok gazed at him with a mixture of kindness and impatience. “You have been through much and I cannot help that. I am here to help you. If you do not accept that, then you will be erased. I must not fail because of your sensibilities.”
Franklin stared at him; the manor Tanok spoke to him was calm and without any emotion. Nothing different from their other conversation except for the threat. “What… do you mean erased?”
Tanok remained motionless, giving no hint at whatever thoughts passed through his mind. After a moment, he spoke with sorrow in his black eyes, but his voice remained the usual monotone. “You will cease to be.”
Franklin swung his legs off the side of the bed and gasped for breath. The anxiety attack should’ve caused him to remain still but he made himself move as perspiration dotted his forehead. Through an inner strength he didn’t have before, Franklin forced himself to calm down. After a minute of rapid heartbeats, a tight chest, dizziness, and an unbridled fear he never experienced before, he regained control. His fear came from the feeling his attack was caused by Tanok.
When he was certain he could trust his voice, Franklin spoke three words. “Am I crazy?”
This time, the emotion in Tanok’s eyes carried in his voice. “No, you are not.”
A flash of light snapped Franklin from his sleep. Was it really sleep? At first he wanted to discredit what he experienced but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Something about this dream felt more real than the others. The one part he did notice was he didn’t feel an unbearable pain in his back this time and he hadn’t bit his tongue. At least something positive came from the experience. He was tired of the taste of his blood, but he did have another question that seemed trivial to him at the moment. Why was it his tongue was always healed when he came to his senses?
He remained in his bed thinking about what Tanok told him. He wasn’t crazy, or so the illusion told him. Common sense told him to ignore Tanok, but the feeling of what happened when he was told he wouldn’t exist any more wouldn‘t leave him. Could you really die in a dream? He found himself believing he could… if it was indeed a dream.
*****
Close to eight o’clock, Doctor Doug Townsend spent the final few minutes in his office finishing any loose ends before he left for the day. The last file was on the new admission, Franklin Bowen. He paused with his pen in his hand and stared at the file. The man unnerved him unlike anyone he ever met. Why was that? Because he knew a portion of his brain was swollen? It was easy enough for him to have heard someone say something, but no one had.
Despite what was said, he thought how it was said bothered him the most. The young man sounded so… matter of fact. As though he were reading from a text or answering a question in class. It was like he was reading my mind. The thought chilled him to the bone and his hand began to shake.
He took a deep breath to try to relax. He’d been doing this job for over twenty years and his imagination was playing tricks on him. That was the only thing he could bring himself to accept. He was a man of science and spent his life studying the human mind and head. He read hundreds of articles claiming such a thing was possible under certain adverse conditions. As a man of science, he preferred to believe in what he could see, touch, and taste. His belief didn’t avert any of his fears.
He jumped when his office phone rang. Grateful for the interruption he picked up the receiver. “Doctor Townsend.” His face relaxed into a smile when he heard the voice. “Janice. This is a wonderful surprise.”
*****
With their dinner and movie over, Janice and Horace did what couples do from time to time. They began chatting. It took less than a handful of minutes for Janice to start ribbing her boyfriend about how he reacted to her father. The pair reminded her of a young man trying to get a recommendation for a scholarship.
“What’s your issue? Dad likes you.” It was an age old debate between the two. Over the course of their time together, Horace’s insecurities have driven her to points of anger and the wondrous realms of laughter. Out of the choices, she preferred the latter, and so forced herself to laugh at his shortcoming. This time, however, she found it hilarious.
Horace could only shrug. He didn’t have a clue as to why Doug Townsend made him so nervous. “
If I knew…” He shrugged once more to finish his answer.
Janice shook her head as she watched her boyfriend. What was she going to do with him? Struck by inspiration, she went to the wall phone and dialed the number for her father’s office. She smiled at the questioning look on Horace’s face while she waited for the ringing on the other end to stop. She felt a tiny pang of guilt. Maybe she was being too sadistic. She shook her head; it was time to put an end to this.
At first, she thought her plan was defeated by dumb luck as the phone service took longer than usual to connect them. He’ll be home by the time I get through. A click signaled her call made it through the hospital switchboard. When she heard her father’s voice, her smile widened. “Hi, Daddy.” The look on Horace’s face was priceless, far better than she dreamed. “I just wanted to call and say hi.”
Horace watched her, intent on not allowing his anxiety to get the better of him. He knew she wouldn’t really call her father just to torture him. A minute earlier, he would’ve bet his small bank account on his belief and he would now be poorer than dirt. As much as he wanted to be angry, he found he couldn’t be. She was trying to help, in a twisted sort of way.
He was more than happy to let her talk to her old man. Even when she shot playful looks toward him he tried to look uninterested, but failed.
“That’s just great, Daddy. Sure, we’d love to come over tomorrow night.” Janice smiled at Horace as a plan hatched in her brain. “Horace is right here, do you want to talk with him?”
Horace’s calm shattered in an instant and his horrified look brought a laugh from Janice. “Really? Oh, I’m sorry, Daddy. Okay… I’ll talk to you then. Bye.” She hung the receiver in its cradle and turned to face her boyfriend. “Looks like you got lucky.” From the look he gave her, she could tell he didn’t feel lucky.
*****
Doctor Doug set the receiver down and sat back in his chair. The fact Horace was nervous was as obvious as leprosy, and he didn’t see the need to help his daughter traumatize the young man any further. He had other reasons for wanting to get off the phone. Franklin Bowen’s file needed to be updated. As a matter of practicality, he wanted to give the night staff a clean slate. His daughter’s phone call took his mind off of the task at hand and the trepidation did pass, only to be replaced with intense curiosity.
Before any second thoughts could take root, he flipped the folder open and began to read. In general, the only information they had on a patient was the barest essentials: previous conditions, operations, allergies, and of course, insurance. What struck him as odd was Mr. Bowen’s parents and contact information was filled in by the receiving nurse. Hadn’t he come in semi-conscious? Doug thought it curious that Harriet Rice was able to gather such information. Such a task usually came later, once the patient was able to offer it. Of course, the boys with him could’ve volunteered it, but Horace told him he didn’t know the man and he doubted the Drake boy knew him if Horace didn’t. They probably asked him when they found him. To be on the safe side, he’d ask Miss Rice when he saw her next. He doubted it was some devilish plot to overthrow humanity. Such things only happened in movies or books.
The item he noted with surprise was the young man’s father. General Winfield Jackson Bowen was well known throughout the world as a brilliant military strategist. Most likely a myth, as most reputations were, but he made a note to call the general in the morning, then changed his mind. Picking up the phone, he pressed the buttons listed as the general’s contact information.
On the second ring, the phone was answered with a commanding voice. He didn’t expect anything else. “Winfield Bowen.”
That was short and sweet. “General Bowen?” He didn’t mean it to be a question, but that’s how he sounded.
The audible sigh told Doug that man’s patience for foolish inquiries was low. “Yes. What can I do for you?” He didn’t ask how someone he didn’t know got his direct line, but Doug could imagine the line was being traced as they spoke.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but I thought you should know your son’s at Tarken Heights Memorial Hospital. There’s been an accident.”
The general’s voice tightened. “Is he alright?”
Doug nodded, though he knew the general couldn’t see him. “He’s doing well. We’re holding him for observation until tomorrow.” He paused, thinking the general wanted to ask something. When he didn’t, Doug continued, “He was found semi-conscious, so we suspect a concussion but he hasn’t shown the usual symptoms.”
“I see.” Doug could imagine the wheels turning in the general’s head. Fathers tended to worry more than mothers, they just did a better job at hiding it. “So he’s alright?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. “Where is your hospital? I’m in D.C. now, but I can be there by morning.”
Doug smiled. The man wasn’t as aloof as he heard other military parents were. It wasn’t a pleasant stereotype. Doug gave him the address, Tarken Heights was about sixty miles from Washington D.C., and he told the general he’d be back on duty at eight if he had any questions. After thanking him, the general disconnected. Not surprising. Someone as important as a general couldn’t just walk away.
With his daily duty finished, Doug signed the file and placed it back in the appropriate slot. While their filing system was rather outdated—a nurse would transcribe the notes in the morning—their patient care was not. Doug closed his office door behind him and went to find the evening doctor.
Chapter 6
“This was the world in which we originated from.” Tanok stood off to the side, allowing Franklin to see it.
Their view was from orbit but he could see every detail and feature on the people’s faces. The cities were orderly and clean, no one ran from place to place in a hurry to go nowhere. Even the cylindrical spacecraft and smaller transportation craft traveled at unbelievable, yet not hurried, speeds. Franklin stared at everything in wild amazement. He never dreamed of something so orderly and un-chaotic. The closest example he could think of was Star Trek, but even that paled in comparison to what he was witnessing.
While the cities on the planet’s surface astounded him, he marveled at the sight of floating cities thousands of feet above the surface. Built in rectangular or oval shapes, each city was at least four times as large as New York. “What… are those?” He thought for sure they were in his imagination.
Tanok nodded, his face held a whimsical expression. “Our answer to over-population. Instead of destroying our planet’s life forms by building, we simply moved into cloud cities.”
“You simply do what?” Try as he might, Franklin couldn’t understand the scientific principles behind such things.
Tanok looked at him. “I am sorry. I cannot explain it in simpler terms.”
Franklin stared back, he knew the man wasn’t lying but could he believe him and his own eyes?
“You are not insane, Franklin. We share a greater understanding those on your world won’t achieve for a thousand years.”
Franklin watched Tanok for a moment until he realized what he was being told. “We’re a colony.”
Tanok nodded. “You understand now.”
No, but I’m beginning to. Franklin looked back toward the planet and the peaceful existence the people enjoyed. “Will we be like them?”
Tanok didn’t smile or nod, all emotion left his face before he spoke. “That is why I am here.”
“To help?”
“Yes.”
A brilliant white light engulfed Franklin. “No! Not now! Not again!” His cries went unanswered as the light swallowed everything, including himself.
He opened his eyes to find he was staring at the ceiling of the hospital. Once more, there was no pain aside that which was caused from being ripped from such a peaceful place. The mental agony, similar to what people feel when someone dies, burned behind his eyes. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor brought the harshness of the world back to him. Sobbing, he turned onto his side and
hugged his pillow tight.
The morning sun broke through the curtains into the white and cream colored walls of the hospital room. In many ways, the combination of coloring and light gave the room a depressing aura. If the patient in room 136 cared about such things any more, there would be cause to worry. By the time the sun broke the horizon, Franklin had other things to be depressed about. In the course of a few hours his life and the world around him had changed. He wondered if it was for the better.
*****
The same sun filled Janice’s bedroom with a soft glow that warmed and welcomed her to a new day. She extended her arms over her head and stretched, letting out a groan of pleasure.
“Do you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep.” Horace’s muffled voice found its way through the thick down pillow. He was beside her with his face buried as deep into his pillow as possible.
She couldn’t help but smile at the side of Horace’s head. She had the feeling he was somehow watching her. “Don’t be so lazy. Maybe you shouldn’t have been up so late.”
He lifted his head from his temporary hiding place and glanced at her. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “That’s because I was already half asleep.”
“Oh! You…” He tried to hit her with his pillow but she rolled out of bed too fast.
In a matter of seconds, she was across the room, standing by the bathroom. She stopped by the door long enough to stick out her tongue. “Would you mind feeding Buster?” Laughing, she closed the door before the pillow struck it.
Defeated, Horace slid out of bed and started getting dressed. Buster heard them and started barking for his food and attention. At least the day was starting better than the previous one. It only took him a couple of minutes to finish putting on his day-old clothing and make his way down the narrow hall. He paused at the first door to his left, which led to the apartment’s second bedroom, where Buster was locked in at night.