Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  Time slowed down as his muscles gave out, and his legs crumpled beneath his weight. As he lay on the floor, his hands and feet jerked wildly out of control, electric shock waves shooting from them, sparking visibly through the air. This is truly it, Stephen thought. He watched like a bystander, as Arista and others he didn’t know hurried into the room and attended to him.

  “We’re too late.”

  “There’s only one thing we can do.”

  Stephen’s eyes felt heavy; he worked to keep them open. Still they slowly closed. He fought. If I can just stay awake, he thought. He heard a soft whisper in his ear, “Until we meet again, Stephen.”

  Then all went dark, and there was silence.

  WHY DOES IT feel like such a struggle to open my eyes? Thomas tried again but was unsuccessful. He heard snippets of conversation and attempted to connect with his mind but felt nothing. “Arista,” he whispered. “Where are you? I have so many questions. You must…come…back.” The words were taking a toll on him, and he was exhausted from the effort.

  LIKE SO MANY times over the past few weeks, Elizabeth and James looked at each other in disappointment—their hopes dashed once again. Thomas was never quite coherent, but he was speaking words here and there, just not anything that made sense. Horrified, as they watched day after day, their son labored to breathe, assisted by an iron lung. One day ran into two, which ran into another; days became weeks, and now weeks were turning into a month and beyond. Time and time again they were told how different their son’s case was.

  “So unusual to have coma for this length of time, especially secondary to the first onset. Yet encouraging signs of speech. Brain function seems intact.”

  Since his birthday Thomas had been in the hospital for almost five weeks. Elizabeth witnessed her son fighting for breath often over the past weeks, and her heart ached. Never once would she let herself believe anything other than her son would recover. Day by day now, his words were more frequent and his eye movements strong. She knew he would wake any day, then they would take on whatever would come next.

  “One day at a time,” James reminded her. “One day at a time.”

  Elizabeth watched her husband cross the room and take a seat by her side. She heard him sigh deeply next to her and place his head in his hands. She knew James felt he must remain strong and stoic for his family. She felt the same. They were dying a little more each day that their son remained in a coma. Truly helpless, they could do absolutely nothing that would help their son—that is, except to pray.

  Ministers and priests had come and gone, offering prayers and blessings, with no visible result. Time passed, and their son’s recovery seemed no closer. Would God truly take our only son? Or would Thomas remain a cripple the rest of his life? What kind of life would that be, and how would they care for an invalid son for a lifetime? One day at time. One day at time. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today is all I must deal with. A knock brought Elizabeth back from her somber thoughts, and she and James both looked up as a nurse walked through the door. As was common, vital signs were taken, and adjustments made to the workings of the machinery that supported their son’s life.

  The nurse encouraged them. “Your son’s vitals grow stronger each day. The doctor will be in soon, and we plan to disconnect him from the iron lung. The indications are that his respiratory system is strong enough to handle his breathing on its own.”

  Elizabeth and James reached for each other, their gazes locking, each knowing what the other was thinking. Should we dare to hope? Could this be a new beginning?

  As the nurse prepared to pull Thomas from the iron lung, the doctor entered.

  Elizabeth and James focused their attention on him expectantly.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. Let’s begin. I do think there has been substantial progress.” While the nurse disengaged Thomas from the equipment, the doctor instructed the parents. “Speak to your son clearly. Ask him to answer you. Speak angrily if necessary. We want him to feel the need to pull himself from this state. We believe he is able.”

  In and out, in and out, she saw her son’s chest rise and fall, breathing on his own. Elizabeth felt encouraged and spoke first. “Thomas, sweetheart, we are here. Speak to us. We’ve been waiting for so long.”

  Thomas shook his head from side to side, as if in disbelief, or frustration.

  Elated, she faced her husband.

  “Now you, Mr. Stewart,” the doctor said. “You must implore him to answer you. Use a strong tone of voice.”

  Elizabeth reached for her husband’s hand. James nodded his head, and tears welled up in his eyes as he mustered a stern tone. He spoke, and a lone tear escaped down his cheek. “Now, son, I’ve told you a hundred times. Get out of that bed. You must come take care of these animals at once!”

  “Yes, Pa,” they heard, as their son softly replied, “I’m coming.”

  Thomas opened his eyes, blinked, and looked around. “Arista? Where are you? You left and never returned. Come back.”

  Elizabeth and James rushed to his side, both now crying from relief and happiness. “Son, you were dreaming. You’re in a hospital. You have been here since the night of your birthday. You gave us quite a scare.”

  The doctor interjected, “Don’t mistake, it will be a long road, but I do believe your son will recover. He is made of strong stock, and his determination and will brought him through.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Will we take him home soon?” Elizabeth prodded.

  “One step at a time.” The doctor continued, as Elizabeth and James stole a knowing glance. “We must move him to a regular bed and increase his strength first.”

  “Yes, one step at a time,” James and Elizabeth said, optimistic for the first time in weeks, “One step at a time,” they said again as they shared a brief smile.

  THOMAS SURVEYED THE room, totally confused. I’m home again, or maybe I never left? He took in his parents, obviously relieved, the hospital room, and what is this? “Oh, my gosh. I’ve been in this thing all this time? Ma? Pa? You must fill me in. I’ve been having the wildest dreams. What day is it? I’m all confused.”

  Elizabeth and James looked at each other, knowing they must tell the truth. “Thomas,” Elizabeth said, “It’s June 22. You’ve been in the hospital over a month now, but that’s all right. You will go home soon, and that is all that matters.”

  He stared incredulously at them both, as he thought of the time he was out. Stephen, Stephen. Don’t forget me. It won’t be long.

  Thomas looked around, expecting to see Arista, and said out loud, “Where are you? Why have you gone?”

  “Son, we are right here. Now don’t frighten us like that,” his pa answered, his voice tinged with fear and worry as he searched his son’s face.

  “I’m fine, Pa. Really I am.” Thomas thought, as he pulled off a weak smile for his parents’ benefit. Actually I’m sure I’m losing my mind.

  THOMAS STRUGGLED BACK to health. The days were full of interruptions by nursing staff, visits from various doctors, many special exercise sessions, and peppered with visits from family as well. But Thomas grew stronger every day. Breathing was no longer difficult, and all the long therapy sessions were helping too. Braces would again be necessary, and, while he was now resigned to this fact, he was most eager to leave the hospital to continue his progress at home.

  When Thomas closed his eyes, sometimes he felt transported back to Remeon. He imagined himself there. His thoughts rested with Whisterly and Arista, as he contemplated his time with them. Uncertain as to what he should share, Thomas kept quiet about his “adventure.” He hadn’t heard Arista since the night he woke up in the hospital. Could this all have been brought on by my illness? Is it possible I “dreamed” all these vivid details of another planet, a world filled with people, who live lives full of danger, sickness, and intrigue? I was telepathic, Thomas thought. No one would ever believe me. I’m sure they would just think I’ve been reading too many comic books.

&nbs
p; Lost deep in thought, he didn’t even hear Belle and Ma come in. Belle took the opportunity to sneak over to Thomas and wrap her arms around him, enveloping him in a miniature bear hug. Thomas managed a smile for his biggest fan, and she bounced down on the hospital bed next to him.

  “Hi, son. How are you today?” Ma asked.

  “I brought you more comic books,” Belle interjected.

  “Feeling fine, Ma. Thanks, Belle. That’s just what I needed.”

  “I’ve got great news, Thomas. The doctors have said tomorrow is the day, two weeks since you woke up and came back to us. You’re off the iron lung, breathing normally, walking slowly on your own—”

  “With the braces,” Thomas said, clarifying.

  “Yes, with the braces, but you are much stronger,” she replied, beaming back at him.

  He thought, I do feel stronger. But I feel so much different here than on Remeon. It’s like I’m handicapped here, but there I’m an equal with the power to save whole generations of people. That is, until I crashed and burned. Thomas had spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened to him on Remeon, right before he found himself back on Earth. Those last few minutes, looking through the glass, Whisterly was there, and others he recognized from the council. Those must have been all the sick who Arista mentioned. They looked unconscious, but how could they be there and out in the compound as well? The memories were fuzzy, becoming less and less clear, the longer he was away, the more difficult it was to remember. He didn’t want to forget. He did know one thing. The whole lot of them, they had not been truthful or maybe had just conveniently left out a big piece of the story. When, or if, he saw Arista again, she would have a lot of explaining to do.

  Belle spoke quite loudly, interrupting his train of thought. “Did you hear Ma, Thomas? You are coming home tomorrow! We have all missed you so. The house has been so lonely without you there,” Belle concluded with a small pout, for emphasis.

  “Yes. Yes, I heard, and I will be chasing you around again before you know it, so you better watch out.” He laughed. “I’ve got some catching up to do.” Thomas grabbed Belle and pulled her in for a hug, tickling her, as she giggled uncontrollably.

  “Thomas” Elizabeth said, “tomorrow is July 6. The summer is half over. Would you like some of your friends to come by? After all, you missed the Fourth of July festivities, and we didn’t feel much like celebrating with you not home. What do you say?”

  Thomas paused, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

  “What is it, Thomas?”

  “Well, Ma, I’d really like for things to be quiet. Promise me, just us for a few days. I want to spend some time with you and Pa and the girls,” he said, as he squeezed Belle into his side, bringing forth a new cascade of giggles. “I don’t know what’s happened to me, but I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot.”

  “Certainly, as you wish, Thomas.”

  “Mary’s making something special.”

  “Shhh,” Ma insisted. “Belle, honestly be quiet now.”

  “Yes, Ma,” Belle replied sheepishly. As they spoke in quiet tones, Thomas was left to his own thoughts once again. Tomorrow is July 6. Where had all that time gone? Was I here? Did I dream up all my time on Remeon? Why, I’ve practically missed a whole growing season. Thomas focused, as he was taught, and willed himself to pick up Arista or Whisterly, even a faint inkling of their presence. That would be all he needed, just enough to convince himself they were out there somewhere. Arista, Whisterly, speak to me. Let me know you’re there. Tell me what’s going on. I miss the excitement of life there. Tell me, will I be coming back? Have you decided I can’t help you? Have I failed a test? I’m sure I broke a few rules. Maybe I saw too much? He pulled himself back, waiting, and heard nothing in return. He felt foolish.

  Belle and Ma brought Thomas to the present with talk of food and his homecoming. He was eager, no doubt, for some of Ma’s cooking. Absolutely nothing was better. Visions of vegetables cooked up fresh from the garden made his mouth water, along with mashed potatoes dripping with butter, and biscuits with sausage gravy were all on the supper menu for tomorrow. As visiting hours came to a close, they smothered him with hugs and kisses, and, after lingering for a few more minutes with promises of home, they left.

  Sleep did not come easily for Thomas. He was tired from all the tests he had endured earlier in the day. Now left to himself, sleep came fitfully, interspersed with visions of bountiful harvests of food, and rows and rows of beds all matched to faceless people hooked up to machines which did the work of life for them. His breathing came in short bursts, in time with the equipment, and, as he opened his eyes and fought to concentrate, he heard the rhythmic whir of machines forcing air into his lungs as with all the others in the hundreds of beds surrounding him. Strapped in and unable to speak, he brought forth a soundless scream. And oddly, in his mind’s eye, the scream was multiplied and answered as others’ cries and agonies were forced into his consciousness.

  “NOT AS PLANNED. Not as planned,” Garrick murmured more to himself than to anyone who might be listening. He had spent much of the evening pacing in his chambers, weighing the options for his next move. The council would convene again tomorrow, and he must take control. Novaryous was with him, as well as Riam, and others would follow. He paused staring at the medallion around his neck and scoffed. This means nothing. So what? I’m a council member. The council can do nothing with a weak leader. We must stop this nonsense before it’s too late. Take what we need for the survival of our people. Then put the human back on Earth—dead or alive. It really makes no difference. We must do what is necessary. The complication of keeping this human alive, like some sort of pet, was madness. We found out what happened last time when we tried that. His energy level declining, mid-thought Garrick reached impatiently for some nourishment. As the cool slippery material went through his system, he immediately felt refreshed once more. This should last me until later tonight, when I can plug in and regenerate, he thought.

  Garrick paused to further consider the facts. So much the boy has seen now and still doesn’t understand. All the more reason to go forward without further subjecting him consciously to the details. Time is of the essence… If the others, those Night Dwellers, find Stephen before we can get him back, they’ll capture him, force him to help their side. A knock brought Garrick back to the present. He opened the door, and Novaryous and Riam walked in. “Greetings, my friends. Take a seat. We’ve only a short time before we convene as a full council. What say you both on this matter?”

  Novaryous, eager to confirm his opinion, spoke first. “I stand with you, Garrick. You know I do. However, addressing the full council will take tact and patience as well,” he said, nervously wiping his forehead. “Whisterly and the princess have the advantage, and the majority of the council will stand with them.”

  “Yes, yes,” Garrick hastily replied, “but this vote will require us to be unanimous. We all believe the boy has what we need. The called meeting is just about how we will proceed with obtaining it. And since this decision affects another species, we must agree. It is written so.”

  “All we need do is dissent. This will cause enough discord among the other members that we may persuade the group as to the inconsequential nature of this human,” Riam clarified. “However, we must quickly move. We all know other forces are at work here. We can’t afford to lose Stephen for good. There is no time to start over. Too many to count are dying each and every day. It’s my own race I’m concerned about, not some no-account human.”

  “Agreed. It is now time to come together with the group. Let us be as one,” Novaryous exclaimed.

  “We must,” Riam chimed in.

  “Let us go forward.” Ceremoniously the three men gathered, clasping shoulders, and leaned forward until their foreheads met. “So it will be,” Garrick finished.

  WHISTERLY SURVEYED THE members of her council, here and there catching snippets of their thoughts. She knew the conversations she heard were idle chatter. Mind
probing, on the other hand, was something that would probably prove most fruit-worthy; however, she did not enjoy this activity. Hopefully it would be unnecessary. Communicating to all, she signaled the start of meeting. Arista made her way to her seat, and the others filed in after her. As Whisterly watched her daughter, her face softened. She noted how much she had aged. She truly looks as if a weight is on her shoulders.

  Even though the stress of her position was beginning to show to those who knew her well, her demeanor was unchanged. She carried herself regally as she always did, and her pale blue gown fit her exquisitely, modestly clinging to her maturing figure; she was a beauty. All I do is for her and the future of my people, Whisterly rationalized. With an imperceptible nod, she brought the meeting to order.

  The session continued for several hours, and still no decision was made. As this involved the life of another race, the council’s decision necessitated a unanimous vote. All knew this to be the case. Whisterly summarized, “I believe we all can agree that we need Stephen back to fully engage his ability to ultimately solve our dilemma. He proved helpful, curious, and even brave, as he tried to ascertain his ultimate task. We are all aware his holographic body depleted itself, and, as a result, he resumed his life on Earth but not before viewing the gravity of our situation.” Whisterly paused and scanned the room, assessing the weight of her words. “However, our test was successful, in that he is a willing and able candidate.” With this last comment, a fresh wave of chatter begin.

  “As I said before,” Garrick began, “take him and use him. If he lives, fine. If not, that is no consequence to us. We are the superior race, and we should take what we need by whatever force necessary.”