Trespassers: a science-fiction novel

by Todd Wynn

  Sara wiped a tear from Jeremy’s cheek, then laughed at what she was about to say. “I didn’t have a life—I literally didn’t have a life, and no memory of it. Then when I saw you—the very first time I saw you—it was like I was waiting for you . . . not somebody like you, but exactly you. It’s like I’ve always been waiting for you.”

  “Isn’t it a little soon for them to be getting so emotional?” Dexim huffed. “They knew each other what . . . two days?”

  “It happens,” Lyntic said. This was the last voice Dexim expected to hear coming to their defense, and he didn’t want to think about what must have happened in her past to inspire such sympathy.

  “I sure hope you remember me,” Jeremy joked, making Sara laugh.

  “Write me a letter,” she said. “If I don’t remember, write me a letter. Tell me what I did—what we did. Tell me who I was for these eight months—for these two days. You know this version of me better than anyone else. Tell me about us.” Her breath fluttered. “If I lose these memories, give them back to me.”

  She wrapped him in a hug and squeezed as hard as she could—as hard as she wanted to be squeezed.

  “What are the chances she’ll remember him?” Mindy asked with a sniffle. “There’s a chance right?”

  There was only silence.

  “Right?”

  “It was a good idea for them to say good-bye,” Tobi finally said. “It’ll make it easier on him.”

  Their embrace lingered in the kitchen window as Dexim checked his watch. “Give them five minutes,” Dexim said. “Then bring them back in and let’s get moving.” He walked through the house to the front door and checked the perimeter. Their transport ship was due in two hours, and he hoped they had that long. The horizon was calm and quiet, but that could change quickly.

  Five minutes later, Sara was back at the kitchen table with Jeremy by her side and earpieces in her ears. The throbbing rhythm had begun, and the kitchen was fading. The onlookers standing along the cabinets seemed to shrink into the distance, until all she could see was her own hand in Jeremy’s grip. That too faded.

  Below his confident facade, Tobi was questioning everything. Aeosic makes sense, he thought. If we play the numbers, it’s four times as likely as Protetic. Still though, he wasn’t convinced. What if she was in a hurry at the time? Then she would definitely use Aeosic. He felt better. Aeosic is definitely the choice for a long-term block like eight months. But she didn’t know she was going to be out for eight months. She thought it was only going to be a few days. If I was going to do it, I would use Aeosic . . . wouldn’t I? Would I? I don’t know. Aeosic would have been quicker, but if you wanted to fall asleep faster, you would use Protetic. It has much lower stimulation levels. If she knew she had to do it quickly, she would have used Aeosic, but if she thought about needing to get to sleep sooner she would have used—

  Tobi suddenly tapped the screen and switched over to Protetic. It was pure instinct, and he hoped he hadn’t just doomed her. He wasn’t even sure he had the authority to make that decision, but he had to go with his gut.

  He checked her breathing, pulse, and eye movement. They were perfect, but this was no indication that he had made the right choice. He would have to wait until she awoke to find that out, just like everyone else.

  “Sara,” he said into the handheld device, which was transmitting to her earpieces, “Focus on my voice. We’re going to start now.”

  Within ten minutes, it was all over. Sara was resting on the sofa in the living room, where Jeremy had carried her. Tobi explained that she would be unconscious until the process took effect, which was usually forty minutes to an hour. When the process was complete, she would awake on her own. Before then, there was no way to rouse her.

  “She looks peaceful,” Web said.

  Jeremy knew that peace. He had felt it before. As he knelt beside the sofa, still holding her hand, he thought back to the deck on the roof and how he had awoken in the middle of the night to feel her head on his chest, fast asleep, her warm breath on his skin.

  As Sara slept on the sofa, Web opened his laptop and checked the main computer at Home, looking for any signs of the Limestone Group closing in on them. Stewart instructed Lambert to walk the perimeter, and Jin volunteered to go with him. In the kitchen, Tobi pulled the refrigerator open and poked around for a snack.

  As Mindy gazed out the window in the living room, Dexim leaned against the wall next to her and looked her over.

  “How new are you?” he asked.

  “Second day,” Mindy replied. “Is it that obvious?”

  “No, you seem to be fitting in.”

  Mindy smiled.

  “How long have you known Stewart?” Dexim asked.

  “I met him two days ago.”

  Dexim nodded, but seemed disappointed. “And what do you think of him?”

  Mindy couldn’t answer honestly, or she would expose her schoolgirl crush. “He seems . . . confident.”

  “He’s a bit of a charmer, isn’t he?”

  Mindy recoiled for fear that she had been found out. “No, I don’t—I don’t know. Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “What does he say about Lyntic?” Dexim asked, gazing toward the kitchen.

  “Oh.” Mindy suddenly understood. “I don’t—he doesn’t really. . . . He said they used to work together . . . a long time ago.”

  Dexim nodded.

  “What about her?” Mindy asked. “Is she . . . interested in him?”

  Dexim’s eyes landed on Mindy, and for a brief moment he looked as though he were going to attack. “Like you said . . . it was a long time ago.”

  Mindy nodded.

  “He’s not right for her,” Dexim declared.

  “No, certainly not. And she’s not right for him—at all.”

  In the backyard, just outside the kitchen door, Lyntic was gazing off into the woods when she felt a familiar presence behind her.

  “What are the chances she’ll make it out of this?” Stewart said as he arrived at her back, his nose touching her hair—as if he had a right to be there.

  “What are the chances any of us will make it out of this?” she said, as she leaned back into him. She could feel him inhaling her, and it gave her goose bumps. They both closed their eyes and saw the exact same image: a flower—two flowers to be exact . . . two ranunculus flowers.

  They could remember it as if it were happening all over again. It was so many years ago when they were two lovers who found themselves strolling silently through the woods, taking turns playing hard to get, sharing dangerous looks of passion. It was a break from their intense love-making sessions. It was a moment to take in the air, explore their surroundings, and enjoy each other’s company. It was a sacred moment away from the pressures of the waiting world. It was pure bliss . . . and two flowers were about to ruin it all.

  The flowers seemed harmless enough, growing in the middle of a footpath just beside a flowing stream. Stewart plucked one from the ground and offered it to Lyntic. Instead of taking it, Lyntic pulled the other flower from the ground and headed off the path toward the stream—her way of playing hard to get. Stewart took up the chase, and when he saw her sandal-clad feet breaking the brisk current of the water, he kicked off his shoes to follow. In the knee-deep water in the middle of the stream, she turned to wait. As he arrived, he extended his flower to her. She extended her flower to him in the same way. With a sudden frightening shock, they realized this wasn’t about flowers anymore. How a couple of plants in the forest had transformed into a monumental turning point in their lives, they did not know. But you can’t pick moments like this. You just have to hope they arrive on their own . . . and hope you can respond the way the universe expects.

  They stepped into each other’s arms and fell into a kiss that meant more than any they had shared before. The two flowers dropped into the water, and the current quickly swept them out of sight. Perhaps they were reunited downstream with their petals intertwined.

  35
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  Old Memories

  Jeremy sat down at the kitchen table with pen and paper. How do you tell someone what they meant to you if they don’t remember you at all?

  Dear Sara, he began. If you are reading this, it means you don’t know me. A tear fell onto the page and blurred a few letters. He wiped his eyes and continued. But you used to know me. The feel of writing an actual letter was unfamiliar in this era of text messages, e-mails, and tweets. But the ink on the paper had a warmth that couldn’t be found in keyboards. It allowed his emotions to flow. You used to know me very well. For two short days you knew me, and I knew you. You’ll have to take my word for it. In those two days, all we wanted was each other. Maybe I should just speak for myself, but you have a right to know how you felt. So, I will tell you everything I remember, all that I saw and experienced. If you’ve lost your memory, that means you’ve lost eight months of it. I can only tell you in detail about the last two days, so I’ll start from the beginning. I first met you in Nathan’s Hardware, where you worked. As far as I could tell, we were instantly drawn to each other. I know that’s how it was for me.

  At the other end of the kitchen, Tobi was in his own version of hell. Aeosic would be anybody’s first choice, he thought, especially if you’re an amateur. Had he just destroyed this girl’s mind on a gut feeling—a feeling with no scientific basis? If she knew what she was doing, she would have used Protetic. Was that true? Or was he just trying to convince himself? It’s a flip of a coin either way. Nobody could ever know. Either one is as good a guess as the other. He looked to the clock on the wall, above Jeremy’s head. It showed 5:22, just as it had the last two times he checked it. Time was refusing to move. It was leaving him to languish in his own thoughts. Dexim had ordered me to use Aeosic, he suddenly realized. I didn’t have the authority to go against that. What does that mean? If I put her in a coma, it would be all my fault. I could be charged with a crime—maybe. Could I? I don’t know, but I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I was trying to help her. I was doing what I thought was right. Another look at the clock. How the HELL is it not 5:23, yet!

  Outside, Lyntic and Stewart had migrated to a more secluded spot in the yard, just beyond the view of the kitchen windows. Stewart slid his fingers along the back of her arm.

  “Did you find anyone?” he asked, as if continuing a conversation from a hundred years ago.

  Lyntic wanted to laugh at this, and she would have if it weren’t so painful. “I tried to forget you,” she said, turning to rest her hands on his shoulders, letting them slide down onto his chest. “I’ve never tried to forget someone so hard in all my life. Every single day I try to forget you. I’m exhausted from trying to forget you. I just want to have a moment where I can take a break—where I’m not pushing you away.”

  Stewart wrapped his arms around her. She melted into his grasp. This was the side he got to see—the soft side—the side she hid from the rest of the world.

  “You don’t have to forget me,” he said. “I couldn’t bear it if you forgot me.”

  He wanted to tell her that he was doing fine—that their plan had worked, that he had moved on with his life and never looked back. But that wasn’t the truth. He thought back to the day they parted.

  It was August 8, and he was packing the last of his things into a backpack—ransacking his office for the last few items that he didn’t want to leave behind. He was saying good-bye to Home, good-bye to the Limestone Deposit Survey Group, and good-bye to Earth. He had a ship and a girl waiting. He and Lyntic had decided to run off together. They didn’t care about responsibilities or missions; they just cared about each other. What their plan lacked in forethought, it made up for in passion.

  Stewart was sixty seconds away from leaving behind everything he knew, and he had no intention of looking back. Just then, a roadblock stepped through the door—a burly fifty-year-old man with a red ring of hair clinging to the sides of his head.

  “What’s all this?” George asked.

  Stewart tried to play it off as a simple case of reorganizing his office, but George wasn’t buying it. He closed the door to give them some privacy.

  “This happens,” George said. “It’s not uncommon. You didn’t just invent it, you know.”

  “What happens?”

  “Falling in love,” George said, placing air quotes around the word love.

  Stewart slid into a seat, realizing that his sixty seconds had just been extended.

  “And I’m not saying there’s not true love here.” George took a seat across from Stewart. “I have no doubt your feelings are very real—and mutual. But there’s more to consider. There’s a much broader scheme here. You have to realize who you are and who she is. What will this do to her—dragging an earthling into her world?”

  Stewart sat quietly, wondering how much longer he would have to wait before walking out the front door.

  “Can you support her?” George continued. “Are there companies out there looking to hire an earthling who has no experience in any other part of the universe, no references, no education or credentials from anywhere but Earth? As a civilization, we don’t even have the wherewithal to get to our own moon—and landing a dozen people there fifty years ago doesn’t count. We’re as primitive as you get by universal standards. You may be a big shot here, but out there you’d be lucky to get a job busing tables at a cheap intergalactic restaurant.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  “I know you’re thinking, What’s all that have to do with love. But you know what it has to do with love—think about it. Is that what you want for a woman you love? Either she’s trapped on Earth where you can feel special, or she’s lugging around a caveman she has to support.”

  George had gotten Stewart’s attention. This was something Stewart hadn’t considered, and it was reshaping his vision of the future—his future with Lyntic.

  “What will her family think?” George said. “Did you consider that? And don’t tell me that you’re tough enough to take it. I know you are. But think about her. Think about the disappointment she’s going to face from her family and friends when she brings home a cabana boy from a resort planet.”

  “So, what’s your point?” Stewart shrugged. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you have to realize what has happened here. It’s a hazard of the job. Two great people have crossed paths because of the greatness of their jobs. You deserve to do great things, which you can do on Earth. And she deserves to do great things, which she can’t do if she’s stuck on Earth. It doesn’t mean she can’t visit you from time to time. You can have your romantic vacations. That works for some people.”

  “Maybe I’m not some people,” Stewart retorted.

  “Most people aren’t,” George conceded. “But if you love her . . . if you love her . . . let her go. Let her find true happiness. Let her find someone she can marry and have a family with.”

  Stewart took a moment to digest this before abruptly shaking his head and rising to his feet. “Thanks again.” He thought about shaking the man’s hand—after all he was never going to see him again—but after that soliloquy, it just didn’t feel right. “Good-bye,” Stewart said as he walked out.

  George didn’t bother getting up as he watched Stewart disappear into the hall. But George’s words lingered as Stewart walked out the front door of the Limestone Deposit Survey Group for what was to be the last time. He crossed the dusty lot to his vehicle, and George’s words began to infect his thinking. As he drove to the landing site, his concept of the future began to change. As he approached Lyntic—who was waiting for him at the base of the unseen ship—he had tears in his eyes. Lyntic’s heart sank as he began to speak.

  “We need to think this through,” he said.

  “I don’t want to think anything through.” Lyntic shook her head, her eyes beginning to water. She drowned him in a hug, hoping to stop his words before they could slice into her. But what she had done was place her ear against his lips, and the
whisper that poured from them chilled her bones.

  “What happens if we do this?” he said, choking on the words.

  Lyntic didn’t want to hear it. She just squeezed him tighter.

  “I belong here. And you belong out there,” he said.

  She squeezed him even tighter.

  Now—so many years later—standing at the edge of Camp Whatever, the feelings were still just as strong. Stewart ran his hand across her back and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Back then, they had decided to part because it was for the best. It had been a mutual decision. It was logical, reasonable, and sound. It was the hardest decision either of them had ever made.

  Yes, Stewart wanted to tell her they had made the right decision—that his life had never been better. But that wasn’t the truth. When she left him behind, Stewart was no good at his job and no use to anyone. He spent three days in a row staring at the sky without a wink of sleep, waiting for her to return—hoping she would ignore their decision and come back to him. When sleep finally forced itself upon him, he wasted away in bed for another three days.

  George had decided to give Stewart two weeks off to clear his head, but it didn’t help. Stewart spent all his days in bed and all his nights staring at the sky. He was on the verge of giving up on life altogether when George finally staged an intervention—along with Stewart’s partner at the time. It was this partner who pulled Stewart down from the ledge and brought him back to the land of the living. Stewart made a radical change. He sold his house and got a new one—outside the optimal cone of entry, with a view of the night sky that faced away from incoming ships. He decided to throw himself back into his work and let go of the past. But he could never truly let go. He just put her out of his mind long enough to get through each day, and when she returned to his thoughts, he convinced himself that she was happy. He told himself that it was his letting her go that allowed her to be happy.