by Almney King
If I couldn’t get my hands on halos soon, there would be blood.
I looked and saw someone beside me lying still on the bed across the room. I held my breath and a gentle warmth rose in my eyes. I could hardly move. She couldn’t be real. Even so close and so beautifully before me, she couldn’t be real. I rose out of bed, moving slowly over to her.
She was frail, but very alive beneath the sheets. Her eyes fluttered but never opened. They seemed soft as velvet. I wanted to kiss them. But I was deathly afraid to touch her. As if my touch would break her. Because she was that near death. So near that I pressed my head to her chest just to be sure there was still a beating life inside her.
“Mom,” I whispered.
She didn’t stir, but I knew she could sense me. And as I listened to that precious sound, I thought perhaps I was hearing something else... perhaps the voice of God in her heart.
I lowered a hand and touched her forehead, then gently caressed the hollowness of her face. My fingers trembled as they timidly graced her cheek. I couldn’t describe it. The pain in my hands. The heaviness in my chest. I felt dead but undead. I felt asleep but with my eyes wide open. I felt breathless but calm. And then I realized it. This feeling. It was longing. It was alive, whispering, speaking softly to me in the silence.
Suddenly there were footsteps. I had heard them coming long before they paused outside the room. The door eased open and I didn’t bother to look up from my pillow of rest.
“Well look who’s awake.”
The voice had alluringly ripened. A bit hoarse now, but still so full of youth. I glanced his way. He stood tall in the shadow of the hall. His eyes were knife-like and fearlessly aimed. Dark brows narrowed over that dusky gaze, angling in confusion.
“What? Have nothing to say to an old ghost kid, or well, I suppose you’re not a kid anymore are you... ”
“Gwen,” I whispered, rising to my feet.
At first, he was leery. He paused, one foot through the door with a disturbed look on his face. Then he grinned and welcomed himself into the room.
“I hope I didn’t offend you. It’s just... you look... perfect. It’s damn scary to be honest,” he admitted. “What in the hell did those bastards do to you?”
I looked away. For some reason, I felt embarrassed. Not that I should have been. It was only Gwen. But still, I was not ready to share my sufferings. What ARTIKA had done and what ARTIKA was doing, the world was not yet ready to hear it.
“You sound like your father,” I told him.
He raised a brow. “So you talked to my pop, huh? How is the old man? I miss him. Don’t get too much word to him these days, as you can imagine.”
I didn’t miss the ache in his voice. It had been years since he’d seen his parents, since he’d seen Ellis. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to think about him. But it was painful, especially with Gwen standing there all bright and bold in spirit reminding me of what I had lost.
“He’s fine. Your family’s fine.”
Gwen nodded, looking me over. “Can’t say the same about you. You look busted.”
That was Gwen. He left nothing unsaid and never steered from the truth. Ellis was like him in that way. But Gwen could never hide the truth, or his opinions for that matter. He was loud, abrupt, and forceful with his beliefs. And as I looked at him, he was very much the same. He still had that playful air about him, that boyish youth that charmed everyone around him. And by that mischievous shine in his eyes, I could tell that he was just as comedic and carefree as he was seven years ago.
His brows furrowed suddenly. “Hey, I’m sorry about that, Corrine. Why don’t we continue our talk outside,” he suggested.
For a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to move. I stared down at Mother. There were tubes stuck deep in her arms and bandages wound tight all around her body. Near the foot of the bed, an Ultra-wave Impulsor stood beside the IV, nursing her back to life.
“Come on. She’ll be fine. I promise,” Gwen assured.
I nodded then followed him into the hall. It was all metal, a circular infrastructure branching into several different tunnels. Yellow glow beads lit the dim, spiraling throughout the dark of the hall.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Fifty feet under sea,” Gwen answered. “Welcome to Jordan Starlight.”
“How long was I asleep?”
Gwen leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms, stroking the thick of his beard. The dark waves were smoothly trimmed and complimented the gold, even curves of his lips.
“You were in and out of it for at least four days. Kept throwing up this weird silver chemical. The craziest thing I’ve ever seen. I have to give it to you though, you sure know how to take a bullet...”
“And my mother?”
“She woke up once. Not for very long though. She was really weak.”
I glared at him. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Gwen shook his head and sighed. “I don’t think you understand your condition. Our medics had no idea what the hell they were dealing with. Consider yourself damn lucky that they managed to save you at all.”
I said nothing in response. Of course I knew. But I had known death for some time and I wasn’t afraid.
“I am grateful,” I mumbled. “I just really wanted to talk to her. That’s all.”
Gwen stared at me fiercely like it was the last look he’d ever see of me. He pushed off the wall and came to me. I watched him, his footsteps strong and proud as he walked. His shoulders had this rhythmic sway and his eyes were bright as fire. When he finally reached me, the familiarity of his scent overwhelmed me. He smelled like war, like gun oil and the rust of iron. But there was something else... roses. He smelled like roses, fully bloomed and cut fresh for a funeral.
“Hey, Corrine,” he whispered. “I know this may be a touchy subject, but I have to know... do you know anything at all about what happened to my brother?”
His voice was too timid for a man his age, and I was afraid to hear it. Afraid to tell him the horror that had befallen his brother. His brother once so bright and beautiful, so rich with valor and youth that even the grave could not bind him. How could I tell him that the boy we so adored and so longed to touch had gone, was lost?
“Ellis,” I uttered. My throat ached. “He’s in a very dark place right now...”
“So he’s alive?” Gwen asked. He was so close I could hear his heart trembling.
“Yes, but like I said...”
“What do mean? What happened to him?”
He was just like Kailes. He had no mercy, no consideration at all in his demand for the truth. I looked up at him suddenly and he jerked back a little. He looked startled, and for a moment, guilty as well. It seemed he saw something desperate and pleading in my expression. He took a breath and relaxed against the wall.
I tried to calm myself. Everything was coming back too fast. The killing. The blood. Ellis and the chamber. My pain and my hatred.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “Not yet. But I can show you.”
I slowly raised the left side of my shirt until the fleshy spiral of skin was naked under his gaze. Gwen stared, a look of horror in his eyes. He glared at that wicked scar as if it were his own mark of sin. His fingers twitched, as if hungry to touch it. But they didn’t move at all. They were afraid that even the sweetest caress would bring me pain. And it would. Already, I could feel it. The heat. The flesh breaking. The stillness. The blazing cold.
“Ellis... did that to you?”
I covered the wound. “He’s not the same anymore. His memories are lost. I tried to save him. I did. But he...”
Gwen reached up and cupped my face. His hands were warm but calloused by war. He pressed his thumbs to my brows, gently smoothing the stress that had gathered there.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry too much. One day, one miracle at a time, yeah?”
I nodded. But his voice was the voice of sorrow.
“Hey, I’m going to tell
you something,” he said. His fingers wandered down my neck, messaging the sore muscle there. “Try not to get too worked up when I tell you.”
I hardly heard him. I was hypnotized by the lazy motions of his hands.
“What is it?”
He pressed his forehead against my temple. “We had to save you using a blood transplant... a particular person’s blood to be specific...”
I clutched his forearms. He flinched, trying to shake free. My grip was too strong.
“Don’t tell me...”
Gwen slipped free from my grasp. “Yeah,” he confirmed, “your father’s here...”
I stumbled back and held tight to the wall. His words couldn’t be true.
“Corrine, hey calm down you’re losing it,” Gwen called.
I looked up at him. His voice was an echo, loud but soft like in a dream.
“Where?”
Gwen put a hand on my shoulder. “Follow me,” he said.
My steps were so quick I thought I was running. We passed several others in the halls, but they had no faces, no figures, and no voices. They were nothing but shadows that moved aside as we rushed through Jordan Starlight.
My father. Father. Father. Father. The name wouldn’t leave me. I had wanted to say it for far too long. Just once more.
We passed the mess hall and came to a door just a few paces down. Two guards, one male and one female, blocked the entrance. They had seen us coming and sharpened their stance as we approached.
“Open the door,” Gwen ordered.
The male guard looked me over suspiciously. “We can’t do that, captain. They’re in a meeting.”
“I don’t care if they’re in there reciting prayer, Officer Kent. I said open the door. That’s an order.”
The woman guard stared at me. “Let them in,” she said.
The man looked at her in surprise. “You’ve lost your mind, Ruby. But why am I surprised? No matter the situation, you always choose him, don’t you?”
The woman said nothing. She stared up at her superior with an unreadable expression. The man looked to Gwen, then to Ruby, his eyes doing a back and forth dance between them. Then he huffed and slowly moved aside.
“I swear, you’re going to get me in real trouble on of these days, Gwen. You’ll owe me for this.”
Gwen grinned. “Yeah, just put it on my tab.” He gave Kent a pat on the shoulder.
The door opened slowly, or perhaps not. Perhaps my mind had slowed it down. I didn’t know. I only knew to find him. And I did.
He was down a small flight of steps, his tall, lanky figure arched at the far end of the table. A circle of men crowded around it, but there was only him. Only the familiar shape of him, of his moving hands, of his strong and delicate profile angled slightly away from me.
The talking in the room died down. One by one, the men looked up from the paper flutters and the empty coffee mugs that had been strewn across the table in the heat of debate. I saw my father rise up like the break of day. It was beautiful, that curious motion, that haunting movement of my father that proved him undead and far too real, and far too alive.
He looked at me. And when he did, I nearly cried.
He swallowed the floor with his strides. We united, and there was so much warmth. In his arms. In his breath. I wept silently in that killing embrace of his. I became a little girl in his arms. I held onto him, gripping him like a pillar of strength. And he was my strength.
“Corrine, my God,” he gasped.
His gripped me tighter to reassure himself that I was indeed real. When he drew me back, I saw joy in his eyes. It was a mellow joy, but joy nonetheless. He looked tormented, dried out, and detached. It was war, I knew. But my father was unyielding. I saw his resistance, alive and alight in the gleam of his eyes.
“We mustn’t talk now,” he whispered. “I’m in the middle of strategic planning right now. How is your mother?”
I broke free of his grasp. “Always second,” I hissed.
“Corrine, don’t...”
“Don’t what?” I snapped. “I haven’t seen you, my father, in eleven years, and you tell me that I’m not worth a few minutes, seconds of your time—”
Gwen placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Get your hands off of me,” I warned. He stepped back.
“We have plenty of time later, Corrine. I swear to you...”
“I don’t want to talk to you later,” I growled. “In fact, I don’t want to talk to you ever, understand?”
My father frowned. And there it was, that infamous, bullheaded scowl of his. He was always this way; dispassionate, witty, analytical, and far too perceptive. A snarling whip. I should have known. But I wasn’t hurt, nor was I disappointed. I was ashamed.
“Corrine,” he sighed, “you’re not a child anymore.”
My breaths quickened. I turned hotly on my heels.
“I’m leaving,” I uttered. Gwen eased to the side, keeping my father from pursuing me.
“Just let her be for a while,” I heard Gwen suggest to him. “She’s been through hell and back.”
I stormed up the steps and past the two guards. Gwen shadowed me down the hall, inviting himself into the room again.
“Get out,” I said.
“Look, I know you’re pissed and have every right to be, but you should take it easy. You haven’t healed yet.”
“I said get out.”
Gwen leaned against the door, crossing his arms. “Yeah babe, I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
“Babe? I indubitably despise nicknames,” I hissed.
Gwen laughed. “I suppose I would take that as a snide remark if I knew what the hell ‘indubitably’ meant.”
I went to speak until a subtle sound caught my ear. Mother was awake. I looked at her just as her eyes opened.
“Water,” she groaned.
Gwen moved to the nightstand and poured her a cup. I couldn’t move. For some reason, my legs were still as stone. I watched Gwen help her drink. She could barely raise herself. Her elbows trembled as she propped against the bed pillows.
“Easy now,” Gwen whispered. He glanced at me. “Get the hell over here, you scared or something?”
I was scared. That she had forgotten me. That I was unworthy. But I loved her. And I was selfish. I had to hold her. I had to ease the longing. I moved to the bedside.
“Mom,” I called.
Mother looked to me. She froze, her eyes splitting in horror. She slunk back against the wall in a scream.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Mom! It’s me! It’s Corrine!” I cried.
Gwen yanked me by shoulder. “Corrine! Get off of her!”
“Let go of me!” I snapped. I pushed him, nearly sending him across the room. I looked back at Mother. She laid limp against the mattress. She looked haunted. Her skin was pale as death.
“God! Lord God!” she gasped. “Is it... are you really..?” She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes.
I couldn’t stand it anymore, seeing her so broken, so lost inside herself. My hands slipped from her shoulders, falling gently into her lap. I curled myself against her and cried. But it was more than with tears. I cried with my whole body. The sobs raked all through my back, and in and out of my lungs. Never had I cried so fiercely! Like a child. Like a babe from the womb.
I knew not why I cried. Was it relief? Was it joy? Was it rage? Perhaps it was all these things. Because I had suffered them all. The longing and the loneliness. All for her. And she was here now, with my head to her chest, living. Then suddenly I understood the reason I cried. I was tired, but I could rest now.
Finally, I could rest.
CHAPTER THIRTY
REMEMBER
My mother’s singing woke me up. She was humming. It sounded so much like Fern’s humming. It was a somber song, one with no lyrics, only the melancholy lull of her voice. I thought, for a moment, how our earthly days were not so different. They, too, were a hollow rhythm of highs a
nd lows.
I rose from the bed. Mother smiled and stroked my cheek. I held her hand.
“Mom,” I said. My voice trembled. I didn’t wish to bring her pain. But I had to know. “What... what happened to Fern?” I asked.
A look of death came over her and then the tears. She said nothing. The door opened suddenly. I cast my eyes away, refusing to look at who had entered.
My father rushed over to the bed. He drew my mother into his arms.
“What did you say to her?” he demanded. He sounded accusing, as if the reason for my mother’s suffering was my doing. But it was he who had abandoned us to find his own selfish existence in the world. And now he was here, holding her with those undeserved hands.
“What did you say to her, Corrine,” he repeated.
He was looking at me, but I still wouldn’t face him.
“I only asked about Fern,” I said.
“You couldn’t have waited?”
“I don’t understand why you care so much. You never did before.”
My father narrowed his eyes. There was something fierce in them, something blinding. Hurt. Anger. Guilt perhaps?
“Why don’t we let your mother rest? We can talk outside,” he grumbled. He laid her gently against the pillows.
“It’s alright,” Mother insisted. “Let me tell her.”
“No,” my father said. His order was final.
“Rest,” he said to Mother. Then he looked at me. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?” he said. It sounded like a demand, but I followed him anyway.
The halls were unusually quiet. Neither of us spoke on our way to the mess hall. I tried not to look at him again, but I found my eyes trained to the back of him. I was mesmerized by the strength of his back and the ride of his shoulders. It disturbed me how similar he was to those forestry illusions I had seen back on Niaysia. I could see it now, the same striking image of him sailing through the trees, shining beneath that fantastic Niaysian sun.