by Andrea Bills
After Luke’s accident, Dean had been assigned to be his handler. Luke rolled his shoulders at the thought of his accident. It was a habit he had developed. At first it was because he couldn’t seem to fathom the feeling of having the hard drive protruding between his shoulder blades. Now it was just an annoying tic he had; like he needed to remind himself a hundred times a day that he was more machine than human.
“How are you handling being out in the civilian world by yourself?”
“Pretty good considering all I’ve done is stop at a gas station.”
“Where are you now?”
“I just left the registration building with my house keys.”
“Well, just keep us posted.”
“Roger that,” Luke said as he disconnected the call.
He followed the directions the woman from registration had given him over to the beach house. His house was an oceanfront bungalow nestled in a quiet cul-de-sac. As he dismounted his bike, he took in the other houses, noting that there were hardly any vehicles in the parking spots. Luke had waited until after peak season for that reason alone. He had also picked one of the less frequented towns on the Outer Banks. Avon was certainly that. It boasted a population of less than a thousand people during the off season.
Luke unstrapped his duffle bag from the back of his bike and then walked up an old set of deck stairs to the wrap-around deck. He noted the outdoor shower to his right, and then he saw the big sliding glass door the woman had told him would be the main entrance. He pulled the key from his pocket and let himself inside.
The floor plan was completely open, so when he walked in, the living room and kitchen were all together with giant floor-to-ceiling windows, giving him an awesome view of the ocean. Luke immediately pulled the blind up on the windows that faced the ocean, but kept the other ones closed. He desperately wanted to shed himself of his jacket and shirt, so his back could breathe some after spending the day under layers of fabric and sun. Once he had his shirt off, he rolled his shoulders as the cool air washed over him. Luke checked the two bedrooms and bathroom out quickly, and then out of habit, he made sure all the window locks were secured.
His phone buzzed from his pocket. When he checked the screen, it was a text from Dean.
“Get laid, get drunk, or if nothing else just relax for once man.”
Luke laughed at the text and then tossed his cell on the couch. As he stood in front of the windows and watched the ocean waves crash onto the shore, he thought of what Dean had said. Luke didn’t have any intention on picking up some random chick to hook up with; chances were she’d never adhere to his particular tastes in the bedroom. Since Luke couldn’t let anyone know about his hard drive, it made getting laid a bit of a chore. Luke stuck to mostly female soldiers close to him in ranks. They understood his need for secrecy, and they could stand his rougher nature. Luke had become accustomed to restraining the women’s hands- at first out of necessity, and then out of pure love of the control and the pleasure it gave him.
Dean had been the one to suggest it to Luke. Luke wasn’t sure what his sex life had been prior to the accident, but he hoped he got a lot of ass then because it was a rare thing now.
As his thoughts turned to Dean, Luke felt that age old ebb of guilt. Dean was Luke’s only true friend, his only connection to normalcy. Had Dean not accepted the position of Luke’s handler, Luke wasn’t sure how sane he would be. Luke just hoped Dean hadn’t accepted the position out of guilt. The mission that had landed Luke paralyzed and left for dead, had been the one mission that Dean hadn’t gone on. It had been the first mission they hadn’t done together. Dean’s fiancé’s father had passed away, so he had rushed to her side instead of joining Luke as he parachuted behind enemy lines in Pakistan.
The kid that had gone in with Luke had been killed. Luke had managed to escape thanks to a man who found him after the explosion. The man was Iraqi but belonged to a colony who still practiced the ancient tradition known as Pashtunwali. Luke still couldn’t pronounce the name to save his life but it had in fact saved his life. The tradition requires the members of the colony to aid and protect anyone in need; whether they are friend or enemy. Luke had definitely been an enemy that day, but a man had dragged him into his village anyway. Bloody, suffering from amnesia, and unable to walk, Luke had hidden in the man’s home until the helicopters had touched down, and Dean and the rest of his usual team of Navy SEALs, flooded the house and whisked him back stateside.
Lights came on in the house to Luke’s right. Out of instinct, Luke stepped away from the windows, even though they weren’t in the direct line of vision of the other house. He crept next to the windows that looked into the house to see if he could figure out who his neighbors were.
The neighbors had the blinds drawn just as Luke did, so he couldn’t see much. There were just silhouettes of a woman and a little girl. Luke inched closer to his own window as if it were going to somehow make him see better. The little girl fluttered around the house; her shadow never stopping for more than a second. Luke watched her intently for what seemed like hours, but he knew it had only been a few minutes.
The woman joined the little girl in the front room, and the two of them started spinning in circles. There was something so carefree in their movements that Luke found himself smiling; a real smile, one he felt deep down in a part of himself he thought had died five years prior in that hellish desert.
As the mother and daughter settled in for the night, Luke sat down in the chair and rested his head in his hands. For as long as he could remember, his entire life had been his career as a Navy SEAL. There was really no way for him to turn that part of him off, whether it be for a week or a day. His jaw clenched as he tried to fight the urge to find out more about them. It was nothing for some of the people he had fought to use women and children to lure American soldiers into traps. Luke repeated to himself that he was stateside; he was on vacation. The woman and little girl were more than likely doing the same thing themselves. There was no trap.
These feelings- these uncontrollable urges- were what his therapist had been afraid of. Luke had a sudden urge to sweep the house to make sure there were no listening devices planted or hidden cameras. Luke also wanted to go next door and tear through the house to make sure they weren’t, in fact, spies. He knew it was ridiculous, but he also knew he wouldn’t relax until he did it. If he were on a mission, Dean would be watching his nervous system on the control board back at the compound. He would have already adjusted Luke’s nerves to calm him down. Luke rolled his shoulders, feeling the wires pull just slightly at the movement.
“Fuck,” he muttered to the empty room.
It hadn’t even been a few hours and he was already losing his shit. He knew if he called Dean, there was a good chance that Dean had access to the civilian chip that was inserted into his hard drive currently, but he didn’t want to do that. Not just yet. He needed to learn to control his emotions. It was just like that first week Luke had spent learning how to control his body.
Luke hadn’t been prepared to spend his life in a wheelchair. When his commanding officer had mentioned a doctor who might have a solution, albeit a risky one, Luke had immediately said yes. The surgery happened within days of his accident. It had taken them months to perfect the hard drive and software, but exactly eight months after Luke’s surgery he had taken his first steps as Dean monitored him on a control board.
Luke spent another year learning how to perfect his new body. In that time, Dean had dedicated himself to learning all there was to know about a human’s central nervous system and the brain. Dean had also driven the doctor who had performed the surgery crazy wanting to know everything the man knew. Only after all that research had Dean agreed to become Luke’s handler. The first mission they had been assigned afterwards had been a small operation. There had been chatter on the CIA’s network about a possible act of terrorism to happen on American soil.
He and Dean flew out to Salt Lake City, Utah where they hit the g
round running. The chatter led them to a small shack outside of the city that apparently housed two men with known ties to ISIS. It had taken Luke over an hour to hike through the wooded area where they had been hiding. The entire time Dean had been in his ear, keeping him updated on how the chip they had created for him—specifically for missions—was responding, and alerting him to how far he still had to go to the shack.
All the training he had been through came back to him. It had been different though because when he would begin to get tired, the hard drive took over, controlling the communication from his brain to his body, blocking out the fatigue. That was when Luke realized he had been given a second chance at his life. He could be a soldier again, even better than before. He was back, and he was like a junky getting high after a dry spell. All the reasons why he had signed his life over to the government came rushing back to him, and he felt born again. They had told him that the chip in his back would be a learning process. He would have lows and highs for a while, but in that moment, Luke had known he would do it all over again and continue to go through it, because that was his place in the world. It was the only home he knew.
Chapter Four
Jen
“Mamma, when I’m at Mam and Pap’s, Mam gives me both a fork and a spoon for lunch,” Bella lectured Jen as they sat down for dinner.
“Well, I’m a generic Mam, I’m sorry.”
Jen reluctantly handed her diva five-year-old a spoon so that she would have her choice while she ate her macaroni and cheese for dinner. Jen rolled her neck in slow circles as she tried to ward off the exhaustion from substituting kindergarten kids for the third day in a row. Working with kids had been a passion of hers, but after three days of running a pack of tiny tyrants back and forth to the potty for the eightieth time, she questioned her sanity.
Especially when she came home to her own tiny tyrant. Jen looked over at Bella as she traded off scooping her mess of noodles and cheese into her mouth with a spoon and then with a fork. The look of concentration on her face made Jen chuckle. The coffee pot rumbled, signaling that her cup had finished brewing, and the fantastically made machine was refilling with water, all ready for Jen to come calling again. Which she would, soon.
As she sipped her coffee, she flipped through her mail. Her cable was due to be shut off, as was her electricity. Tossing her cable shut-off notice in the trash, she pinned her electric bill to her fridge, so she could call in a payment the next morning. The rest of her mail was full of doctor bills and credit card offers, all of which she shoved in the trash.
Her eyes darted back over to Bella. She was completely oblivious to Jen’s struggles, and Jen’s ultimate goal in life was to make sure that she never knew. Her bills may never be paid on time, or even at all. Her heart may never heal from losing Luke, but Bella would never know. Her world would remain untainted for as long as Jen could possibly keep it that way.
The roar of a motorcycle engine approaching drew Jen’s attention out the window to their new neighbor. Jen wasn’t normally one to be so nosey, but the man had been there for two days, and no one else had shown up. For as long as Jen had lived in the tourist town, she had never seen a man vacation by himself. If she were being honest, she was also extremely curious as to what he looked like. He never left the house unless he had his motorcycle jacket on and either a helmet or a ball cap pulled down low. A chill ran up Jen’s back. When she decided to move Bella and herself to the beach, she picked Avon for its quiet, family-esque environment. The man next door didn’t scream family-friendly, which had Jen’s mamma instincts going into overdrive.
His head turned toward the house, and even though she still couldn’t see his face for the helmet, there had been something so familiar in his movements. Jen’s coffee cup slipped out of her hand, slinging coffee all over the floor and up the wall at the sight. The familiarity of the man caused Jen’s heart to sink, and her stomach to turn. Some of her best memories with Luke had been on the back of his motorcycle.
“Mamma, are you okay?” Bella’s sweet voice broke through Jen’s fog of emotions.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m fine; just clumsy.”
Jen hurried to clean up her mess and try to steady her racing heart. It had been a while since she freaked out at the sight of a motorcycle. The first one she had seen after Luke’s funeral had felt like a truck driving straight through her heart. She had been in the parking lot at the grocery store when a young boy zoomed into the spot next to hers. Tears flowed down her face as she clutched her chest praying the pain would subside. The young man had even stopped to ask her if she was okay after he had dismounted from the bike, but all she had been able to manage had been a quick shake of her head.
Jen peeked back out her window, but the man had already disappeared inside of the rental house. Her heart yearned for the pain to subside; praying that all the women who were at home that very moment missing their husbands who were out serving their country would get their happy reunion. She hoped that their husbands would return to them, happy and healthy. She didn’t wish her pain and longing on anyone.
Chapter Five
Luke
Sunlight burst through the flimsy curtains, causing Luke to stir. As he sat up in the bed, he was careful to not stretch his hands too high over his head. The first time he had done that after his procedure, he had felt the wires tug and stretch, pulling on his skin. Just the thought of that feeling made him shudder. He stood up and headed to the bathroom to relieve himself.
A few minutes later, he was strapping on his helmet and kicking his gear stand up, bringing his engine roaring to life. A mom and pop restaurant sat just across the small two-lane highway the cul-de-sac connected to, so he quickly looked both ways and then gunned his motorcycle across it and into the parking lot.
The smell of pancakes greeted him when he walked in, causing his mouth to water. They had pancakes at the barracks, but nothing like what these smelled like. Being out in the real world, he realized how much he missed being secluded to his life at the barracks. Maybe his week of freedom hadn’t been a good idea. There was no telling when the government would let him have another slice of a freedom.
The waitress rushed over to him with a pot of coffee in her hand.
“Morning, honey. Want a cup of coffee?” She purred.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, pushing his coffee mug forward for her.
“Do you know what you want for breakfast?” She quipped.
“I want a stack of pancakes and three orders of bacon.”
“My, you’re a hungry one.”
“I’ve got a long day ahead of me,” he defended.
She shrugged and then took off to put his order in. Luke sat back and drank his coffee, looking at all the other patrons scattered throughout the establishment. Most of them were elderly men, but there were some mothers with their small children.
Since his accident, Luke had never longed for a wife or family of his own. Watching these children made him yearn for it for the first time. There was something unsettling about the scene. One woman in particular brushed her daughter’s curls out of her face. Luke’s heart clenched at the sight.
The waitress brought his breakfast. Luke scarfed it down and then hurried to pay the bill so he could leave. With every tender smile the families shared, Luke seemed to fall deeper into some weird déjà vu.
The doctors had warned him if he ever did get his memory back, it could be sudden and brought on by the smallest detail. Luke couldn’t say he necessarily remembered anything, but he was definitely feeling some kind of way. What he didn’t understand was why the mother and daughter had been who triggered it.
He gunned his motorcycle to life with every intention of turning out onto the highway, but instead he went back to his house. Luke knew it wasn’t healthy, but the woman and child next door had become his obsession. He watched them almost every second they were at home. After he had caught the woman’s attention yesterday when he had been getting off his bike, he had felt a strong
jab of pain, almost as if he were being forced into a memory. Nothing came though. All Luke could do was chalk it up to his PTSD.
Before his trip to the beach, his motorcycle had been his oasis. The way the roads dipped and weaved was where Luke always found the rhythm of his soul; or what was left of it. On the back of his bike he wasn’t deformed, or part machine, he was a human; he was Luke.
The road may have been his solace, but the woman in the house next door—she held the key to the lock on his memories. Solitude was usually a welcome beacon for him, but no longer. He was hungry for company; hungry for more than the life he had been living.
Desperate to find out if he was simply losing his mind or possibly on the verge of a breakthrough, Luke dialed Dean’s cell.
“Luke! Couldn’t take it, could ya?” Dean joked in greeting.
“Did I ever live off base?” Luke asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I asked. Before my accident, did I ever live off the barracks?”
“Where’s this coming from?” Dean asked.
The evasion of the question wasn’t lost on Luke. He felt a spike in his adrenaline, which was quickly offset by his civilian setting in his new chip. Since Luke had been put on leave, the computer system had been adjusted to keep him neutralized. Not that Luke had a temper, but the Navy couldn’t be too cautious. They had to make sure he didn’t start a bar fight that could cost civilians their lives and out the Navy’s biggest secret.
“You mostly lived in the barracks,” Dean finally responded.
“I may be on autopilot right now, but I do still have my own instincts. Right now, they’re telling me you’re hiding something from me.”
“Are you getting your memories back, Luke?”
“No, but something weird is going on. It’s like déjà vu, but worse. So much worse. It almost makes me sick, but I never quite remember anything.”