Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  Once on the gun range Thomas saw revolvers, pistols, shotguns, and rifles with many variants. Some were unrecognizable to him; others looked quite familiar. Errol chose an open lane with a bull’s-eye target hanging at the end and unholstered his revolver. Thomas recognized the weapon and stepped in closer for a better look. Errol easily handled the Smith & Wesson .38 special, aiming and firing in quick succession, effortlessly hitting the target about twenty-five yards out.

  “Ready to show us what you got?” Errol asked.

  “You bet,” Thomas said.

  Thomas stepped up as Errol reloaded, then offered the S&W to Thomas. He considered only for a few seconds killing the two and running into the dense underbrush under the cover of night. Here at the gun range, however, he was quite confident he would be taken out almost instantly. Better to wait for a more suitable opportunity, he thought, as he took aim and fired, unloading all six bullets one after another, hitting the target with five out of six shots.

  Errol moved in closer, offering advice and adjustments, as he supplied additional bullets to reload. Then, taking aim for a second time, Thomas shot without hesitation, emptying the chamber, this time hitting his mark six for six.

  “Not bad, not bad at all,” Errol offered.

  Thomas turned to his right just in time to see Terron draw his weapon and take aim at a live target. As the animal bounded across the target venue, Thomas heard the clicky-clack of the pump action before the gun fired. The first shot a miss, Terron jacked another shell into the chamber and squeezed the trigger, then he pulled another and another, each landing in his intended target as he obliterated the animal. Still two shells left, he offered the shotgun to Thomas, holding its weight as Thomas held and adjusted himself to the size of the weapon. Finally possessing it independently, Thomas straightened his stature. He felt invincible, and, sliding the safety release, he pumped the shotgun and released the trigger, just grazing the intended target. Smiling with satisfaction, tension building, he was encouraged and felt the adrenaline kick in. Then he repeated, the satisfying clicky-clack echoing in his ears as he pulled the trigger and unloaded another shell.

  “I’m surprised,” Errol said, grinning, revealing a vest heavy with ammo. “I was under the impression you were a rookie. Reload now and take aim at the target about thirty yards out. See it? Just beyond that large mound of dirt?”

  Thomas’s heart raced as he reloaded.

  Errol stood close as he instructed and adjusted the sights of the shotgun before Thomas took aim. “Now, shoot quickly and fire again, emptying your load. Let’s see how you can perform under pressure.”

  Thomas pumped the shotgun and missed the target, then quickly followed up with five more shells, each hitting their mark. Satisfied now, he took a deep breath and released his tight grip on the gun. Errol and Terron looked on as Thomas pulled the lever to bring in the bull’s-eye.

  Thomas retrieved the target, and then appeared once more, the sheet clutched in hand as a prize.

  “Again shall we?” Terron voiced.

  “I’m game. Can I switch it up again, back to the .38 Special?”

  “That can be arranged. Reload,” he said, handing over the Smith & Wesson. “Wait this time for a live target, and let’s see how you do when something is actually moving.”

  Thomas watched while Errol signaled an unknown person who released what looked to be a deer onto the range. Errol held out his hand high in the air, indicating a cease fire to all others on the range. The silence was pervasive as Thomas counted the beats of his heart and met the eye of his victim, connecting with and imagining the pulse of the animal beating in sync with his own. The noise grew louder and louder in his head the longer he waited. Breathing shallow now, he took aim, carefully bringing the animal within his sights. Then firing in quick succession, he released his breath, unloading all six bullets, sinking each one into the soft flesh of his prey, ending its life.

  “Well done. But we’re not finished yet.”

  As Errol handed Thomas the Winchester, he eagerly loaded and set his focus on the range for the next live animal. In his ear he could hear coaching encouragement as he felt another surge of adrenaline. He pumped the first shot, then pulled the trigger. Unsatisfied, he continued jacking shell after shell as he pulled the trigger, his aim improving with each successive shot.

  Thomas handed the shotgun back and glanced downward. There they were. The braces he hadn’t once thought about while shooting, and they hadn’t limited him here. He tuned back in and heard Terron shout, “Good job,” as he raised his arm in camaraderie.

  Without thinking, Thomas raised his own arm and grasped Terron’s, joining in a mutual celebration. Thomas felt elated as he reveled in the moment, then, pulling away his hand, he felt uneasy, shameful even, and couldn’t shake the sensation that he had betrayed others with this budding alliance. But this growing desire inside he couldn’t ignore, and he didn’t want to push aside the power emanating from within that made him feel renewed and alive. A power and drive that needed an avenue. As he looked out over the range and took in the scene of death before him, he called out, first a low guttural sound, then escalating louder and with more intensity. He pumped his fists, and others joined in. The lingering uneasiness remained, but Thomas couldn’t hold back this alien, yet instinctive response, as he celebrated the conquering of an unknown enemy and the kinship he felt powerless to deny.

  THE SHADOWS PLAYED games with the light as dawn approached. Elizabeth lay awake, watching the changing patterns on the wall, while she listened to the insistent tick-tock of the clock on the nightstand. She knew the alarm would ring in a few minutes, and they would begin a new day. The room was quiet except for the soft snore of her husband, sleeping beside her. She envied his ability to sleep amid all the trials their family was going through. Sleep, when it came, though fitful, did block out the constant pain and worry for their children, if only for a brief time. She turned toward her husband, uncovered his shoulder, and lightly kissed it, conforming her body to his, encircling him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He stirred just as the alarm blared loudly, shattering the false peacefulness of the early morning.

  James silenced the noise and faced his wife.

  “Good morning,” she offered, as she snuggled in to a new spot.

  “Morning.”

  Normally awake and in the kitchen before her husband woke, Elizabeth had changed her routine shortly after the disappearance of Thomas and the sudden illness of Belle. It was a horrible, yet another “new normal,” as routines changed to accommodate the care of her youngest. Still unresponsive, Belle needed around-the-clock care. Mary was on duty during the early morning before she left for work, and then Elizabeth attended to her youngest’s needs for the remainder of the day. This afforded Elizabeth a few more minutes in the morning with her husband, before he dealt with the demands of the farm, which couldn’t be put on hold for family emergencies.

  The fragile state of their relationship had begun the first healing steps that day in field, when they had committed to sharing their grief, no matter whatever else happened. So, even with the constant raw emotion and harshness of the present state of their family, they had grown closer as a husband and wife. Elizabeth rolled away toward her side of the bed, as she prepared to dress. Maneuvering in the semidarkness, she let her nightgown fall to the floor as she stood and reached for her clothes set out on the chair.

  “Liz.”

  “Yes?”

  She turned to find her husband right behind her.

  He bent down to kiss her neck. His rough hands massaged her back, while he pulled her forcefully toward him.

  She loved when he called her Liz. It reminded her of being young and carefree, full of life—qualities that she could not attest to now.

  “Honey, the animals,” she whispered.

  He laughed quietly as he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, his lips tenderly kissing her breasts. “The only animal you need to worry about is me,” he said, h
is voice hoarse with desire.

  Although her feelings were not amorous at the moment, she knew she would enjoy the early morning rendezvous with her husband. Like everything else, their lovemaking had changed and evolved with their fragile emotional state of being. The act was frequently now much more physical, desperate even, than years past, and passionate on a new plane, mirroring their daily frantic state. At least in this one way they could acknowledge the normalcy of life, even when all else was in turmoil. Among the chaos, it was a special, untainted gift they could give each other.

  She focused on her husband, whose mounting desire inflamed her own. Elizabeth’s physical need surprised even herself, as she matched him in pace and passion. Their rhythm quickened, and she pulled him deeper into herself, as they both convulsed, their desire satisfied. “James,” she whispered.

  “Liz, it’s okay. It’s okay to love and be loved, to live our lives, to be alive. We won’t help our children by becoming lifeless shells of our former selves. We won’t stop until our family is whole. But we can’t die inside in the meantime.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right,” she said, her face wet with tears.

  James pulled her on top of him, as he held tightly, waiting for her, while her breathing normalized.

  “I love you. You are my life. I know we can bear anything together,” she spoke softly in his ear. They met in a kiss, then she turned sideways and moved toward the edge of the bed again, picking up her forgotten clothing.

  James reached toward her; his hand clasped her own, and he pulled her back in, enveloping her once again.

  “James, really the animals…” The room was now fully lit with rays of sun protruding through the curtains, reminding her how late they were with their start to the day. In his eyes, she could see a spark that hadn’t been there for a long time.

  “What did I say about the animals?” he whispered, as his finger stroked the length of her spine.

  Elizabeth shivered involuntarily and eagerly accepted his kiss. “I’m too old for this,” she murmured back.

  “Again,” he demanded, “this time slowly.” He nuzzled against her neck, kissing her softly, slowly making his way downward.

  She let out a short gasp of pleasure, and James stopped momentarily. “Why, Mrs. Stewart, what about the animals?”

  “What animals?” she said, breathlessly.

  WHISTERLY FELT WEAK and short of breath as she struggled to make her way through the halls of the compound to check in on their littlest “visitor.” The council meeting had actually gone almost exactly as planned. The effort of the encounter had physically and mentally exhausted her, however, and the final confirmation that she had been right felt like a nail in her coffin. With the most difficult work of addressing the traitors completed, she could turn her focus back to the task of returning Stephen to them.

  When she neared the atrium where she had left little Belle, the sound of laughter filled her ears, bringing a smile to her face. “Ah, I see you have been having fun,” Whisterly stated, as Sera appeared from around the corner.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am,” she replied, as she turned to find her little follower.

  Huffing and puffing and squealing with glee, Belle poked her head from behind a tree. “Hi, uh, Miss…”

  “I’m Whisterly, remember?”

  “Yes, Miss Whisterly.”

  “Okay, that’ll do. How about a break? Could you sit for few minutes?”

  “Thank you for keeping me company this afternoon,” Sera said. “I had the most fun.”

  “Oh, do you have to go?” Belle whined.

  “No worries. I’ll see you again real soon. Don’t forget the True Name game we played today, Belle. Now you know why you must keep your brother’s name a secret.” Belle’s face looked solemn as she nodded slowly in response.

  “By the way, ma’am, success on the communication frontier,” she said with a wink at Belle.

  “That is very good news.” The best tidbit of the day actually, she thought.

  “So you practiced today speaking with your thoughts?”

  Belle paused and, squeezing her eyes shut, clearly shouted yes!

  “Excellent. As I said, you’re a quick learner. Did you speak to Sera with your thoughts?

  “Yes.”

  “Did you speak to anyone else—using just your thoughts?”

  “We talked to a lot of people. We practiced when people passed us. Can I go home now?”

  “Come. Have a seat by me for a few minutes,” Whisterly said, patting the space beside her.

  Belle bounded over and plopped by her side.

  Whisterly chose her next words carefully. “Belle, what about your brother? Were you able to speak to him?”

  She smiled, beaming from ear to ear. “I heard him. He found me. I thought he was right beside me, but Sera said he found me through his thoughts.”

  “What did he say to you?” Whisterly asked, returning the smile.

  “He said he wanted to hear from me, and he asked me where I was.”

  “I see. And you replied?”

  Belle looked down, pondering her feet, kicking back and forth.

  “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  “I told him that I was afraid,” she said, still focused on her feet and not meeting Whisterly’s gaze.

  “Anything else he said?” she prodded.

  “Yes, he said, yes.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Would you join me for dinner, and then maybe we could try and talk to your brother together. What do you say?”

  “Sounds like fun,” she said, jumping from her seat.

  We shall see, Whisterly thought; we shall see.

  WHISTERLY SAT AT her desk in her office, reviewing the plans for the extraction op that she had discussed with the council only hours before, receiving their unanimous approval. Very soon, assuming all went as planned, Stephen would be among them again, and the cure would be found. Once and for all a healed nation was on the horizon. It was almost too much to hope for that the culmination of years of work would finally be coming to fruition. She glanced at her clock and noted she had only ten minutes until her meeting with the captain in charge of intel on this acquisition mission.

  During the council meeting all had appeared to be on the same page, but appearances could be deceiving, as she was well aware. She second-guessed herself a lot lately. One side effect of the experience with the traitors who had been flushed recently from the council was the incessant doubt she now experienced. It was unrelenting. A deep sigh escaped her lips, and she stood up, turning around to face the window behind her.

  She took in all the activities of life going on all around her: children playing, families interacting, business and commerce being conducted. This was all still possible due to decisions made years ago, against incredible odds, to keep their race thriving and productive, despite the destructive disease that plagued them all. With resources becoming scarce, choices had to be made, which involved hard, difficult arrangements. The years fell away as she thought back to the birth of her children. Could there have been a better, less traumatic path? One not so littered with pain, despair, and isolation? A series of knocks interrupted her thought process, bringing her immediately back to the present.

  “Yes, come in.”

  Arista entered, followed immediately by Vinique and the captain. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat. We must settle a few items before we move forward.” Whisterly felt her daughter’s connection immediately.

  Mother, I must say, you look awful today.

  Why, thank you, little one. My chronic lack of sleep must be catching up with me.

  Good one, Mother. You’re joking, so that’s an encouraging sign.

  “Time is of the essence, so I’ll get right to it. While we have full agreement of the council and a general time line, there is no specific date for this operation to take place. In addition, an important piece of information is missing at this time—the actual location of Stephen. Our intel i
s good but not specific enough.”

  “Mother, I agree, and, if you had no success with Belle yesterday, I must take steps to train her right away in the hope of obtaining more details immediately.”

  “Belle is a quick study and a natural at this, which she doesn’t even recognize,” Whisterly said, “but, yes, she will need instruction in order for us to obtain what we need. We all know the Night Dwellers have technology that suppresses this type of communication.”

  “When do we start?” Arista asked.

  “Right away. Vinique, what do you think about assisting with this endeavor? You and Arista have the most skill and knowledge of our telepathic processes. As long as Belle’s form can handle the intensity of the training without deteriorating, this needs to be our singular focused effort until we can get the needed information to proceed.”

  “Absolutely. I’m in agreement,” Vinique interjected.

  “Captain, any existing tactical or logistical concerns you’d like to share?”

  “No, we are good to go. It does bear repeating that casualties are expected. They will be fewer with this type of specific procurement mission, compared to a full-scale attack. However, there will still be losses on both sides, and I cannot guarantee that they won’t be significant. You have said to obtain the target at all costs, and that is what we intend to do.”

  “Thank you for clarifying, Captain. I do understand, as does the council. Let me reiterate though, on behalf of the council, that we need Stephen alive. He is not an acceptable loss. If he dies, then all our years of research will be lost, and we will need to find another subject. That is not an option. Even with our current technological advantage, thousands are projected to die during the coming years without the cure we are anticipating. Due to our current depleted resources, we cannot plan another off-world search for many years. The recent mission to Earth will be the last for quite some time. This quest must be a success. This is what we have been anticipating for decades. All our efforts hinge on the success of this mission.”