Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  He was worried about his little sister. The last he remembered, he was huddled close to the ground with her, due to the outbreak of gunfire in the crazy crowd. Now where was she? Was she safe? Was she scared? He had no idea. All these pieces of disconnected thoughts from the past months paraded through his mind like flickering moments at a picture show.

  He fought to keep his eyes open. His limbs jerked awkwardly. He dozed, and passed in and out of sleep. Thomas felt his energy escaping him as the chill and dampness in the air settled in and permeated through his body. How long will my captors wait before they show themselves? Surely Arista, Whisterly, and the council were not behind this. They needed him, didn’t they? Thomas curled into a ball, hoping to keep in some warmth and to conserve energy, and then fell into a fitful slumber.

  A slow, steady skritching noise startled Thomas awake, as a small path of light spilled into the dark room. The door—it opened! He began to move. But his stiff, achy, cold muscles and tired body were not fast enough to reach the door while it remained ajar. An object was pushed into his cell, and the door quickly slammed shut. Unaccustomed to the bright light, his eyes had to adjust again, while he felt his way toward the center of the room to retrieve and examine what had been left for him. He bumped into a tray filled with stuff, confirming what he had hoped for, before tasting it.

  “Food!” he voiced aloud, momentarily unconcerned with the remaining items there, and then plowed through the contents of the platter. He ate hurriedly, shoving it in his mouth with both hands. Not concerned with enjoyment, only volume, he remembered he had had no dinner last night, since the sighting in the sky had interrupted all, including food preparations. Thomas ate his fill and found a liquid substance that he downed as well.

  Underneath the platter was a thin, long scratchy blanket. Grateful for the warmth, he wrapped it around himself twice, unconcerned with the stiffness of the fabric and barely noticing the moldy smell emanating from it. Drowsy once again, he realized his food and drink must have been drugged. Contented with a volume of food and a modicum of warmth, he fell into a much deeper sleep this time, and he passed into total oblivion.

  MARY WORKED SILENTLY and efficiently in the chill of early dawn. So much had changed in only a day’s time; again their family had been taken from hope to despair in only an instant. The stories were quite unbelievable, but, even now, only a day after the incident, tales were coming in from other states regarding UFO sightings in the afternoon and evening of July 7. Neighbors and lifelong friends alike said the same thing: some flying object came and took Thomas that afternoon; and Belle, who had evidently been with him, had been stunned into silence and had not spoken one word since yesterday’s strange, unsettling events. Mary replayed the prior day in her head to solidify the timeline of events.

  The commotion had reached a fever pitch as all ran to investigate. Pa careened out the door and down the hill toward the unruly crowd in just a few quick seconds, while she and Ma followed on his heels and arrived only minutes later. The women paused, clasping hands in silence, watching Pa tenderly scoop up a seemingly unresponsive Belle. Mary felt Ma’s strength leave her body, as her footing became uncertain, and she stumbled. All attention was frozen on Pa and Belle. Pa covered the short distance quickly and placed Belle in Ma’s arms as she stifled a sob.

  “She seems to be all right. Try to get her to talk. I’ve got to find Thomas,” Pa had gasped in a panicked tone. Then he was gone.

  “Belle, honey, it’s me, your ma. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  Belle gazed silently into the distance. She blinked but showed no recognition or emotion. Ma tenderly moved a curl from her baby girl’s face that had fallen from her carefully placed barrette earlier that morning. Ma rocked Belle back and forth to a tune only Ma could hear. Incongruent to the scene of chaos all around—women and children crying and screaming, men yelling for family members, an occasional gunshot, and random fights and skirmishes—Ma continued to rock, holding Belle close, as if in a bubble in time, keeping the world at bay.

  “Ma, let me try,” Mary shouted over the din consuming them.

  Ma didn’t loosen her grip as she turned Belle’s face toward her own and talked to her, shaking her while Ma spoke. All to no avail and Ma continued to rock. Time passed slowly as they stood there cocooned with Belle.

  Pa reappeared, alone; his face reflected a stoic, intense stare.

  “Let’s get Belle to the house, then I’m going into town,” Pa said.

  An eerie silence settled on the house this morning without Belle running around or Ma about her kitchen chores or the now familiar noises of Thomas’s braces as he moved. Mary wondered what knowledge her pa had gained from his trip to town, and stifled the urge to pound on his door and find out the answers to all her questions. She knew, however, upon further reflection, that Pa would have already shared any bits of information he had picked up while in town.

  After drying her hands, Mary walked the short distance to her parents’ room, softly knocked, and, opening the door, confirmed what she had already guessed. Neither Pa nor Ma had slept in their own bed last night. Mary walked back to the kitchen and added a mug of hot coffee for Ma to the biscuits with butter on the breakfast tray, which she had prepared for Belle. Mary was sure her ma was exhausted, but maybe she would eat a little something too. Realizing now that the animals needed attention as well, Mary picked up her pace.

  As she climbed the steps, Mary prayed that she would find Ma and Belle awake, sharing quiet secrets in the light of early morning. But, when she opened the door, she found Ma dosing in the rocking chair, and Belle still asleep, a bundle of curls peeking from the covers in the center of the bed. Mary set the tray on the nightstand, then called softly, “Ma.”

  She jolted awake, and Mary saw the sadness in her ma’s eyes, even as she spoke a whispered good morning.

  “Did Belle talk to you last night?” Mary prodded, hoping.

  “No, dear, but maybe today. We’ll see. Did you see your pa downstairs?” Ma asked, reaching for the hot coffee.

  Mary paused and met her ma’s unwavering gaze. “I don’t think Pa came home last night,” Mary said quietly, looking down now, wringing her hands, “and Thomas is still not back either.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, and Ma stood to hug her eldest child, rocking her like Belle yesterday, yet today Mary was the recipient of its calming effects.

  Mary broke away and moved to the bed and unwrapped the sleeping bundle there. Ma sipped her coffee and nibbled at bits of the biscuits on the tray, her eyes still focused on Belle. Belle’s eyelids fluttered and opened. Mary managed a smile as she pulled her little sister in for a hug. She felt no response. She sat back, looking into Belle’s eyes from arm’s length. “Did you sleep all right, Belle?” Mary asked. Both Ma and Mary waited with bated breath for any response.

  Belle simply stared straight ahead.

  The solemn innocence in her eyes broke Mary’s heart. Mary reached for her baby sister’s small hands, neatly enveloping them in her own, bringing the little fingers to her face. When she squeezed tightly, the blood pumped rhythmically, belying the lifeless facade in front of her. Ma joined her daughters on the bed, and they fell into an embrace, each pining for their missing son, their missing brother in silent desperation.

  “It will be all right. We will find Thomas,” Ma assured them both. “Belle, you know how your brother is. At times he doesn’t want to be found.”

  JAMES FELT LIKE a madman as he roamed the streets he knew like the back of his hand. He didn’t really know where to begin his search but realized his son liked to be in the thick of it all. There must be a simple explanation. Thomas could have possibly made his way to town as part of the mob, due to all the commotion, through no real fault of his own, and is now hiding out, waiting for things to settle down. James focused on the sights around him. He could see the town had been thrown into chaos. Police were dotted here and there, but obviously not enough as looting was clearly in progress throughout the town. Small crowds o
f people could be seen gathering about, with accompanying arguments and skirmishes breaking out as a result. James had no time for that nonsense; he needed answers from someone who had been in that field and had seen his son. James picked the biggest gathering and made his way to the center of the crowd, noticing friends and neighbors as he plowed a path into their midst. Not really sure of his next move, he spoke loudly and distinctly, yelling, so the whole gathering might hear.

  “Hello. Hello! Could I have your attention for just a few minutes?”

  Nothing, no response.

  “Hello,” James said again, this time calling specific individuals in the crowd who he knew by name. “Bert, John, Keith, did you see my son in the meadow, during the commotion? I’ve gotta find him. Tell me what you saw.”

  Bert and Keith turned toward James and acknowledged their friend. The glance was all he needed. James pulled the three of them clear from the crowd and, out of breath now, said again, “Tell me what you know now.”

  John and Keith looked at each other, then back at James, clearly not sure where or how to begin.

  James studied their faces. Was it sadness or pity he saw there?

  Keith spoke tentatively. “Well, uh, James, it’s hard to know what happened tonight. People are saying all kinds of things. Most of it makes no sense really.”

  James grabbed Keith by the collar and yanked him close, bringing his face within inches of his own. “What did you see? My son is missing,” he hissed, one slow, desperate syllable after another.

  John stepped in. “James, come, sit, have a drink. We’ll talk.” He pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam.

  “I don’t want to sit. Maybe you didn’t understand me. My son is missing. Do you hear me?”

  The larger crowd dissipated and moved toward the intimate, but more volatile gathering.

  Keith, having pulled free, looked at James’s broken expression and spoke.

  “Yes I saw your son.”

  James took a breath, momentarily relieved, and opened his mouth, about to speak.

  “But”—Keith leveled his gaze at James—“I haven’t the slightest idea where he is now.”

  James’s expression shifted. “Go on.”

  “I didn’t see your son at all,” Bert quickly interjected, as if unable to hold it in any longer.

  “I told your son to get farther away. I even pulled him back,” Mr. Martin said as he joined the group. James recognized the husband of Thomas’s teacher’s as he spoke.

  “Everything was moving so quickly. I didn’t see him again until the lights came. The lights found your son, shining and focusing on him. Then he was gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” James prodded.

  “I mean, he was there one second, then gone the next. I can’t be no clearer than that.”

  The crowd grew noticeably silent, as all focused on James. Then another voice spoke up, and James recognized Bill, a neighbor and family friend, who said, “I saw the same thing. I was there with your young’un. Then the bright light came, and he was gone.”

  Others chimed in and agreed, one by one. The crowd seemed to be of one mind.

  “This makes no sense,” James spoke out loud, more to himself than anyone in particular.

  A strong hand rested squarely on James’s shoulder, and he jumped, quickly spinning around. The uniformed officer offered a sympathetic smile, then spoke. “James, it’s difficult to tell where Thomas might be. Honestly there are so many stories that we are still trying to find out what happened. Indications are it’s not just our community that experienced this strange event. Reports on the radio state many quite odd occurrences have been reported elsewhere. It seems we aren’t alone in what happened here.”

  James digested what he heard from the officer, David, a close friend from childhood, as the crowd, driven by its loudest participants, began milling their way toward the next confrontation. James reached out and grabbed the bourbon from John, murmuring a quick thanks before he was out of earshot.

  He unscrewed the top and took a healthy swig, contemplating his next move. He had to keep looking but where? How could he possibly go home without Thomas or at least answers? His family would be looking to him for both.

  “James,” David said, “let me walk home with you. We’ll talk this through and figure out your next step. If Thomas doesn’t find his way home by morning, we’ll fill out the paperwork and have the force officially search for him as a missing person. I’ve already alerted all officers on duty to be on the lookout for him. They are searching as we speak.”

  “Much obliged,” James said softly, the weight of all the words spoken now fully sinking in. “But, if others are out looking for my son, I can’t sit idly by and wait for word. I must be busy searching too,” James said, as he tossed his head back, taking another substantial gulp.

  “Why don’t you get some rest tonight and join the others tomorrow?”

  James just stared at the officer for a moment. “David,” James said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “did you hear what they were saying about spaceships and bright lights? Do you believe it? Did you see it too?”

  “Well, I wasn’t there in the field today, but the basic elements of the story as told by many bystanders seem to be the same—loud noises, two vehicles in the sky, a bright light, then the intruders were gone. Some standing close to your son said he disappeared with the bright lights. I’ve been told others are missing as well, but those statements have not been substantiated.”

  David and James drank as they silently walked past the field near the family farm and made their way closer to the house.

  “Chances are Thomas will find his way home tonight,” David said, but James didn’t believe his words and didn’t think David believed them either. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” Then, firmly patting James on the shoulder, David left.

  Lost in thought, James didn’t remember the rest of his walk home. Back at the house, without his son, he didn’t want to go inside and face his family. Instead, he turned toward the barn and finished off the bottle of bourbon in his hand. “Why, Lord, why? What have I done to deserve this?” he spoke out loud for only the animals and heaven to hear.

  His muscles twitched along his jawline, pulsing in and out. His heart raced, thumping loudly in his ears, as he drew his arm back and threw the empty bottle, smashing it against the barn wall. Is this it? Is this how it ends? Tears filled his eyes and clouded his vision. Isolated and alone, he let the despair that had been creeping up on him for the past several hours overtake him. He slid to the ground. Banging his fists on the straw-covered barn floor, he allowed his tears to fall.

  THOMAS WOKE SLOWLY, his head in a distant fog. As he tried to put words together, he could only mumble incoherently. He moved to sit upright and met with resistance, as he yanked both arms, then both feet. He pulled a little harder, struggling, willing strength into his sluggish muscles, hoping to break free of his bonds.

  “It is of no use. Conserve your energy. Screening is underway. It won’t be long until we have concluded initial testing. Afterward you must rest. This will not be easy for you. Your body is still recovering from the hyperspace jump. It will be some time before you feel normal again.”

  Thomas turned toward the voice he heard, and focused as best he could.

  “Who are you, and where am I?” he asked. “Why have I been tied down? Release me. And what is this all about?”

  The man let out a sinister chuckle. “You may have noticed that you are not in a position to make demands. I will share with you that my name is Dr. Timmon, and I have been assigned to your experiment.”

  “I am back on Remeon then?”

  “Back?” The man’s laughter continued. “There is much that you don’t know, and I’m not the one who will reveal additional information to you. Suffice it to say, however, it sounds as if you have been misled.”

  Thomas lifted his head, raising his eyebrows, “Misled? By who?”

  “You will hear nothing fur
ther from me. Now lay still.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Thomas’s eyelids drooped, and he fought to keep them open. But the longer he lay there, the more difficult it became, and so he lightly dozed while a small team led by Dr. Timmon worked on Thomas, taking samples, subjecting him to test after test.

  The doctor broke the silence, startling Thomas awake. “I’m done for the time being,” he said. “Don’t move. You will not have the strength to even get up from this table,” the doctor warned. “I started a drip to help with the energy depletion. Be still, and let it work.”

  Thomas could tell from the doctor’s tone that he cared very little for Thomas’s personal well-being but rather was tasked with keeping him functioning. Thomas’s head was spinning, and his stomach was rejecting what little food he had consumed. Although he was sweating, his arms and legs trembled. Since he was tied down and had no way to warm himself, he shook and shivered, his braces clattering noisily on the cold table. “Thanks so much for making me comfortable,” he yelled after the doctor as he left the room. “I guess I’m staying for the night. Thanks for your hospitality.”

  Thomas’s thoughts fixated on his sister, while he wavered in and out of sleep. As he closed his eyes, he relived the look of terror in Belle’s eyes as the bright light shone in her face. Belle, where are you? he thought as he fell into a restless, feverish sleep.

  Dreams tormented him as he slept. Images flickered in and out of his field of vision like a continuous ticker tape: Belle, the farm, his motorcycle, his parents, Arista. His eyes fluttered open. I feel awful, he thought, as he tried to stretch his arms and legs. Thomas took in his surroundings. He saw a young man—possibly his age, maybe older—studying him intently. “Who are you? Someone to take me back to the stinky dungeon, where you’ll starve me while I’m waiting on you to stick me with more needles?”