Reanimated_Terminal Misery

by Jon State

  “I am sorry, Shela,” Charlie 4 said, adding, “I wish I could help.

  “That means more to me than you may think, little one.”

  Chapter 69

  Exile

  Terranova, USC

  October 8, 4088

  Outside City Hall, the sun gleamed off the brilliant buildings. Clumsy clouds gathered in clumps attempting to blot out the blue heavens. In front of the building, Efrem, Aron, Mathew, Johnson, Mirra, and Sammis disputed audibly.

  “Do I have to alert security?”

  Everyone turned to see Captain Pierce and Stevens approaching.

  “I think we should know what is going on. We have been sworn to silence, but why aren’t we in there? We need to understand what will happen with the program,” Mirra said, winded.

  “Sorry, guys. I know we’ve all been on this from the start, and I feel what you feel, but this is survival, this is humanities fate," Captain Pierce said, his eyes settling on each of his friend's faces. "Malica and Dr. Spencer are in there, and I’m sure he will tell all of you what was said, but please be ready to accept the Council’s decision.” Captain Pierce put a comforting hand on Johnson’s shoulder.

  Sammis came forward. "You realize Mother could construe this as a picture of what we represent—a race that manipulates other beings for its own interests.”

  “She could view this as a violent act and eliminate us once and for all,” Efrem said.

  “She won’t,” Sergeant Stevens said. His once-tight skin had started to soften, lines formed creases under his eyes. “I know this is not right, but I think Mother will not mind if humans experiment on humans.”

  “Yeah, but what do you think she’ll do when we start disposing unwanted mutants into the wilderness? Which, may I remind everyone can happen to any of us when we’re up for reanimation,” Mathew said.

  Captain Pierce lowered his head and kicked at nothing. “All we can do is hope and watch. I think, at this point, we are all taking part in a cosmic experiment—we being the guinea pigs,” he said, eyes downcast.

  No one spoke. They turned as one when the doors to the hall spread apart.

  ************************************

  “I beg the Council reconsider,” Malica pleaded.

  “I second the plea,” Dr. Spencer intoned, but he saw in their faces the resolve to do what it took to save humanity, no matter the cost. Humanity was a doomed thing, he thought, as his eyes fell on his own shrunken shadow that cast against the whitewashed wall. We are but mere shadows. His past life seemed like a dream to him now. His mind projected a few familiar faces. Each one had a story to tell. Each one had slipped away into nothingness and would soon be reanimated. He hoped he would forget how he failed to stop this unethical practice from taking place following his own reanimation. Perhaps being mutated and exiled would be his punishment.

  “Spence, Malica,” Ben Greer addressed them with a nod of his half-bare scalp, “We are all under great direst—especially you, Spence. You have given humanity another chance. I know this is not what anyone wants, but this is for the preservation of our kind. We are not coining this the only solution. We will continue to seek alternate methods with the help of the Alphas.”

  He turned his gaze to the other Council members. “Anyone else?”

  A morose silence encased the well-lit chamber.

  "Then it is decided. We have chosen to exile any reanimate with mutations. If they cause trouble, then we will be forced to terminate them; however, we do not wish this, so we will have to take precautions. We are to continue to improve our reanimation process while maintaining it classified. We will dedicate a separate location for this enterprise since contact with mutants can cause undue attachment, as is our current experience. Doctors, scientists, and specified personnel will continue to find alternate solutions for our continuance as a race," Ben declared, sitting as erect as possible in his high-chair.

  No one stirred, and no one spoke, not even on behalf of the generations of mutants that would suffer exile—only because they were different.

  Dr. Spencer’s eyes lowered to his shadow again and felt small and lost. He felt personally responsible for this outcome. How else could he screw things up? He could see the hopeful look on other faces. His own face held a deep frown as he considered how to explain this to Shela.

  Epilogue

  Terranova, USC

  October 30, 4088

  Dusk fell over the land, unnoticed by the oblivious human colonists. Even now, entering a new world order—a new era—they failed to appreciate the sky, the blue shield which thwarted the vacuum of space from sucking away the new life that had sprouted over the planet. The skies were crowded with purple-reddish clouds which rose like waves over a yellow layer of gasses.

  Somewhere in the northern sky, a giant fireball erupted through the clouds, red flames scintillating from its tip. The comet flashed as fragments spit in all directions. Its roar confined to the distant stratosphere. It hung in its anger above the horizon as it consumed itself, traveling away from Terranova like a rocket, then ducking behind the massive forest before impacting. An immense ball of fire and black, curling smoke belched into the sky leagues away from any human observer.

  The vegetation rippled as one in all directions, sensing the calamity. The massive crater sparked and smoked for hours.

  As it cooled, the land settled around it, unaware of its origin. Plants searched the scorched ground for nutrients exposed by the explosion.

  Smoking debris littered the ground; fragments of hot metal sizzled and cooled. A black plate lay on its twisted side, tempered by its heated reentry. Etched across its charred center were the words: Lystra, International Space Station.

  Acknowledgments

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this story. I am thankful for the opportunity to create this imaginary world. To my beautiful wife, Belinda, for her support and encouragement. To my Mom who, despite being illiterate, urged me never to give up. To Teri and Mike Quitugua for their encouragement, ideas, and support. To my sisters for their help. To Auntie Pangelinan, for believing in me, and lastly, but no less important, to my readers, for whom this was written for. As long as we read, there will be storytellers.

  I need your help; If you have comments or suggestions, please leave me a review. I genuinely know how valuable time is and appreciate your kindness. If you know someone who would love to read it but can't afford it, please go to jonstate1@gmail.com, and I will gift them one. Thank you. You may also e-mail me if you have suggestions.

  I have revised specific areas that my editor and I missed previously. I strive to improve my craft and beg your indulgence. Indie writing is a time-consuming task and Authors with full-time jobs rush to squeeze every ounce of time into our stories. Thanks so much.

  Jon State

  What’s Next?

  This question seems to baffle many writers, but in my case, the problem is, where do I find the time to write all the stories I have set aside all these years. After many years of arguing with situations that held me back. I moved my family to Florida to a secluded, lovely house overlooking a forest to start my writing. I left behind the memories of a previous life to find what I have always yearned for, a place to write.

  I have fought through thick and thin to get this story to you. To mention a few—in no particular order: killing pests, bad editors, sweatshop, deforesting a landscape, artist block, experiencing the last days of many people’s lives, meeting egos that conflict with my spirit, murder of a loved one, meth house home, pushy neighbor, corrupt realtor, ungrateful children, and some others . Explaining these is beyond the scope of this book. Despite all this, I have grown stronger and more peaceful.

  I hope you've enjoyed Reanimated, Terminal Misery because I enjoyed writing it very much. The idea for this trilogy came to me back when I lived in Columbus GA. I woke up from a nightmare where I had died and had risen once more. The title I jotted down on a sheet of paper was 'Awaken,' not very creative, I know, but the next day I
started building on it.

  I have a sweet tooth for the supernatural. When I was very young, somewhere in New York, I dreamt there was a portal under my bed, a hole surrounded by shards of glass where a skeleton demon lurked. After this, I would place a squad of green toy soldiers aiming their rifles and bazookas toward the black thing under my bed.

  To enhance my writing, I have used my experience in many fields: Arts, martial arts, farming, entomology, biology, math, horticulture, welding, psychology, sheet-metal, information technology, rental business, culinary arts, Buddhism, Christian teachings, and a few others. Writers must be very observant and patient.

  Remember I said how hard it has been to find the time to write, I currently work sixty hours a week to make ends meet and still find the time to be with my wife, our fury children, and write.

  The series continues with: Reanimated, Vengeful Souls.

  Reanimated, Vengeful Souls, book 2 is longer than its predecessor, mainly because it is the body in the trilogy. Here characters rise, fall, or prevail. Sam has to find a way to save humanity and has to go through many difficulties to achieve his goal. I don’t want to give anything away, but I feel the need to say something more about the second book. Vengeful Souls concerns the birth of fairy creatures on New Earth. It’s about the collaboration between humans, fairy, mutants, and aliens against a common foe. This story repairs mistakes made in the past and opens humanity to new possibilities and hope. To get there—sacrifices must be made.