The Harmony Divide- Never Alone

by Dominick Gerard

  A few feet away, Jenn stopped. Christine didn’t know how she could get that close to the fire without protection. Where Jenn stood, the storm couldn’t even survive. The snow melted into water and evaporated far before it neared the flames.

  Jenn threw her arms directly out and away from her body again, and the huge tractor trailer lurched into the air. The metal screeched and cracked as it buckled under the force of her power. Its entire length spun as it arched high in the air, landing more than a football field length away. The ground shook as the truck landed with a massive boom. It continued to tumble over and over, and eventually settled in a burnt and mangled heap.

  Jenn made a back-handed wave motion with her right arm and the fire consuming the car immediately snuffed out. It was as if the fire itself was consumed. Even the heat was pulled away instantly. Jenn ran up to the burnt out car and looked inside.

  Christine couldn’t see inside the car, and she was too terrified to move closer. She didn’t know if she wanted to see what was inside. She dropped to her knees in the snow, covering her face with her hands, and began to cry. This was beyond words. Beyond her mind’s ability to comprehend. She sobbed silently while Jenn examined the wreckage. She should get up. Do something. Help. But her legs shook so violently that she fell back to her knees. She didn’t have the strength to try again. The thought of Charles and that perfectly innocent baby burning was more than she could bear.

  Jenn pulled her head out from the burnt car and walked around it, slowly, as if looking for some clue or trick to solve a puzzle. She made three circuits around the car, then turned back the way she had arrived. Looking out to the horizon, she squinted, as if trying to see something invisible. After several seconds, she nodded and started walking to where Christine waited in the snow.

  Christine looked at her friend’s face. It was smudged with soot, ash, and grease except where two long, clean streaks ran down her cheeks. Her long blonde hair was a dirty mess. Half was still pulled up, the other dirty and flying in the wind. Her dress clothes were ruined.

  Christine raised her eyebrows at the look of stony determination Jenn wore. Tears rolled down her face, but she walked with a purpose. She did not stop to acknowledge Christine, who could feel intense heat radiating off of her. Her arms were at her side, her hands balled into tight fists. Gone was the confident and at ease professional from before. In its place, a fierce, determined, and powerful figure emerged. Christine shied away as Jenn walked by.

  The heavy snow swirled and wrapped around Jenn like a cold blanket, but never touched her. The snow on the ground was pushed away to the sides, making two ridges on her left and right as she walked. Another bright flash, and a portal came into existence a short distance in front of her. A forest of pines waited on the other side. Some snow blew through the portal, kissing the tree bark gently. Jenn walked straight into the portal and it winked out of existence.

  Christine was left staring at the place she’d disappeared. The police officers had gathered themselves and returned to their cruisers for protection from something they didn’t understand. She hadn’t heard the fire truck arrive, but she saw fire fighters scramble around, preparing to fight a fire they thought was still burning.

  She turned back to the burnt-out car, willing her legs to move to see if they’d escaped, but she was too weak. All she could do was remain where she was and weep.

  Blinding light flooded her vision and Christine felt pain flood her body again.

  Jenn

  Jenn sat on the dirt ground against the red brick wall of a school. She observed the empty playground before her. It was a place of endless enjoyment, laughter, and fun. Yet, Jenn wept.

  She remembered growing up, attending this school and the many happy memories she had. She lived in a small town and this was a small school. She wasn’t a typical child, but she was never mistreated or bullied because she would rather read a book than play with the other children. They may have made fun of me a little, she thought, but they still liked me. She remembered many bouts of laughter and joy with her classmates. The teachers always seemed like they were proud of her and the other parents appreciated her hard work.

  She had good memories of this school, but she wept because she knew her daughter would never have the same chance at a good childhood. I lost her.

  Jenn had a difficult time thinking of her baby girl. The crash happened nineteen years ago but reliving it in the dreams opened the wounds again. She had never gotten over losing her child. Her grief was as strong now as ever, but she used it as motivation.

  She also thought of Charles. She loved him deeply. He had been so kind to her for as long as she knew him. He was a great father and extremely supportive. He would never have the chance to watch their child grow. She would never hold him and tell him she loved him again. The sense of loss was overwhelming. All she could do was cry.

  Jenn wiped away her tears, but it did no good. She had to get control of her emotions or everything was going to end. The glimmer of hope deep inside her would die with everything else. The first part of her plan was coming to an end. It had to work or everything would be lost. She closed her eyes to quell the tears.

  The sound of footsteps in the dirt came toward her. They stopped a few feet away and the newcomer slid down the brick wall to the ground. Jenn didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t need to.

  “I am so sorry, Jenn. What happened…” Christine’s words caught in her throat. “What happened to Charles and —"

  “Leah.”

  “—but I thought you didn’t have a chance to name her with Charles?”

  “It’s true, we did agree not to name her until her one month party. Charles was always so sentimental. He wanted to have a special event. He loved get-togethers and he wanted to share our happiness with others. He would do just about anything to make me… and Leah… happy. Oh, yes, my loving husband was normally fantastic at keeping secrets, but the poor man talked in his sleep. I knew the name he picked the night we made the agreement.”

  They both smiled and laughed a little at that, wiping tears from their eyes. They noticed each other doing the exact same thing and it made them laugh a little more. For just a few moments, they forgot their pain and smiled at each other. But the reprieve faded, and with it the laughter.

  “Leah. That’s a very pretty name. Fitting, I think. So, you decided to use the name he picked. That was thoughtful of you, Jenn. Charles would’ve been so happy. He never would’ve let you forget he’d won.”

  “You’re so right. Goodness. That man would never let anything go. He was quite stubborn. He was wonderful, and I miss him so much.” Jenn rested her head against the brick. “I miss them both more than I can say. I wish they could have met you. They would’ve liked you.”

  “I don’t… I don’t know what to say, Jenn. I’m just so sorry. I wish I had been there to help you.”

  “Oh, you were. You were. At least, in my memories you were. Now, when I think of my past, you’re in it. When I remember the pine forest, I remember spending time with you there. When I think of that amazing evening with Charles at that pool party, you were there. You helped me get through giving birth to Leah. You gave me strength through my whole life. My memories tell me so. Do you remember the last time we were here? I told you sometimes all it takes is for somebody to believe in order to make it real. Well, I have no doubt in my mind, you are real, and you’ve been my closest friend my whole life.”

  Tears rolled down Christine’s face. She shook her head and looked at Jenn, disbelieving.

  “I know you feel otherwise, but… you are the one who gave me strength. You’re the one who has helped me through all of this. You’re the strong one.” Jenn pointed at Christine as she spoke.

  “My dear, let me tell you what kind of person you are. You’re mere seconds away from death. You’ve been tortured and endured more pain than I ever thought possible. You’ve witnessed horrors beyond comprehension. You didn’t even scream. With your last breath, you were defiant.
I have no strength compared to you. And after everything that happened, all the pain and horror, you come here and all you care about is trying to make me feel better. I can make light dance and bend space, but you’re the one with the true power. You.” She pointed at Christine again.

  Christine shook her head and offered a small smile. “I… I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.” She sighed. “We’re going to die, Jenn. This is it. We’ve got no time left.”

  Christine looked at the ground. She drew two lines parallel to each other in the dirt in front of her, rubbing the space between with the palm of her hand, as if coloring it in.

  Jenn smiled at her and wiped the drawing away. She drew a single thick line by itself.

  “Oh, we’re not done yet,” she said, looking at Christine. “We’ve just gotten started. Right now, your body is still alive, but it won’t be for long. There’s still a lot we can do in the next few seconds of waking time. In our dreams, we can make miracles happen.”

  “That’s what we’ll need. I still don’t understand what you have planned, but after everything, I’m not ready to give up on you yet. I’m ready.”

  “Yes, you are and so am I,” Jenn said with a more serious expression. She’d known this was coming. She could feel it in Christine’s mind. It was less fragile, less broken than it had been before. Despite all the horror, something new was blossoming inside her friend.

  “What am I ready for?”

  “You’re ready to see one more memory. Then, you’ll have a decision to make.”

  “What more of your life do I need to see?” Christine sounded tired as she spoke. Jenn knew she was stalling.

  “Not my memory, dear. Yours.”

  Christine didn’t move. She showed no emotion at the mention of finally regaining her own memories. Jenn thought she knew how Christine felt. It must be frightening, to know the past holds horror worse than her present. But it had to be done.

  “Yes, well, that’s what I was afraid of.” Christine rubbed her arms. “It’s strange. I don’t know what my memories are, but I’m terrified of having them again. Is there no other way?”

  Jenn shook her head. “There’s no other way. Neither of us can run from our memories forever. We have to face them eventually.”

  Christine looked around the playground, then back to Jenn. “No funny cat videos this time?”

  Jenn smiled. “Not this time.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

  Jenn’s smile faded. She had been dreading this moment for a long time. What her dear friend was about to see could change everything between them. She had no choice, but she hesitated for several seconds before she continued. Everything that could be done had been done. Jenn had done her best to show this woman what love is. All she could do was hope it stuck.

  “This is going to be hard for you to see, but you will accept it. You have to. When you’re done, we’ll meet one more time, then these dreams will be finished. Remember, you’re stronger than you know, and you can be anybody you want to be. I’ll still be with you. You’re never alone.”

  Jenn reached out a hand for the confused young woman to hold. She took it without hesitation. Such strength, Jenn thought.

  As they touched, Jenn spoke one more time. “Your name isn’t Christine.”

  The scene was flooded with a flash of bright light, and faded.

  8342-2334-9844-3429

  Her dreams were troubled, as they normally were. She dreamt of outstretched arms she couldn’t reach, a whisper she couldn’t hear, and a face she couldn’t see.

  She opened her eyes as a loud buzzing noise from the barracks intercom shocked her awake. Still dressed in full armor, she laid in a small bed in the barracks. Although she was the only one on this ship allowed to ever remove her armor, it was extremely rare for her to do so, even while sleeping.

  Her helmet activated, and she calibrated the vision sensors by looking left, right, up, and down until the screen inside indicated it was successful. She sat up and got out of bed, standing at attention.

  If she was awake, there was a mission to complete. Between missions, she was put into cryogenic sleep for various amounts of time. It didn’t matter. She would do as the leadership commanded her, sleeping or awake.

  She looked straight ahead and didn’t move a muscle. This was easy, as practically nothing could distract her. She thought of nothing but waiting for her next instructions. Even as others rose from their bunks and stood at attention, she remained still. There was no talking. There was nobody for her to check on or talk to. She was alone among many.

  The barracks housed twenty-five soldiers. Each had a small bed, but no storage for possessions. They had no need for that. The room was various shades of gray. The floors and walls were created to help maintain focus and require little attention.

  The display inside her helmet indicated an incoming transmission. Each member of the Century would receive their own separate instructions from the leadership. She didn’t know who was in charge of this excursion, but it didn’t matter. She would follow her orders.

  The display indicated for her to verify her serial number. She read it out loud at the same time as all the others:

  “8342-2334-9844-3429.”

  She was then prompted for her personal pin number, for security purposes, which she gave as her helmet secured itself so she couldn’t be overheard.

  The helmet display acknowledged authentication and went blank. The order text loaded all at once. It was short and concise, as always.

  “Report to Sensory Conditioning for preparation. Acknowledge.”

  Sensory Conditioning was used on soldiers before missions to change their mental state and tolerances through what the leadership called Pain Therapy. Varying amounts of pain would be applied to the soldier so it wouldn’t be so shocking if they were wounded in battle. This ensured they could continue to follow orders, even if they were under severe physical stress. She thought the process was quite effective and welcomed it. It made her better at following orders.

  “Acknowledged,” she replied, and set off briskly in the direction of the Sensory Conditioning facility. It wasn’t far from her barracks. She exited the room and only had to make two turns before she reached the facility.

  As she walked, she passed several other soldiers wearing all black with their customary flat-front helmets. Nearly all the soldiers were veterans. She could tell due to her helmet’s ability to automatically identify each soldier’s rank. This typically indicated a high value mission, but it didn’t matter to her. She would follow her orders.

  As she arrived at the facility, she slowed down and placed herself at the end of a long line. She would wait patiently and —

  The scene distorted and became scrambled.

  “No, Jenn. No… please. No… make it stop!” Christine screamed.

  The young woman had her head in her hands rocking back and forth. Her eyes were shut tight, but tears still ran down her face.

  “Shhh… it’s going to be okay. You can’t fight it. You have to keep going. You have to see this. It’s the only way.”

  “I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I can’t…” She shook her head furiously.

  The scene shifted again.

  —and have no worries about how long it took. This was her duty.

  More soldiers arrived and joined the line. The armored bodies squeezed tightly together. After a few minutes, a dozen more soldiers were ushered into the room. The door closed behind them and she moved closer to the entrance.

  Even at her rank, it was always required to go through conditioning before a mission. She had no opinion on the matter. It was effective. She watched ahead for the door to open.

  Another round of soldiers entered the room and she moved up further. She estimated she would be in the next group. A few minutes more went by and the door opened. There were five soldiers between her and the door. She followed them closely into the room.

  It was compact and crowded. There were six machi
nes - Conditioning Modules - on each wall to her left and right. Each module had a metal seat with wide, flat arms. Above the seat was a metal bowl-shaped object with a heavy wire extruding form it. The bowl was held in place with a mechanical arm, which could raise or lower the bowl as needed. Inside the bowl were long metal spikes. She was familiar with it all and it didn’t faze her.

  In the center of the room was the control desk, which was a permanent rectangular-shaped table about five feet long. On the table was a computer console, a couple different input devices, and a display screen. A soldier sat behind the table, staring at a screen while he operated the modules. The soldier was small and thin. He sat with his back slightly slouched, which was quite unusual and punishable if his officer chose to do so. She paid him no mind, not even bothering to identify him.

  A veteran officer stood beside the table, watching everyone. Her helmet display identified him as the Senior Centurion of their Cohort, the 1st Cohort of the 3rd Legion. He was taller than most soldiers, and muscular, but not as large as some of the others she had seen. His armor was scarred in many places, which signified his battle experience. He faced the door as the soldiers walked in. As each soldier sat down in an open module, he raised his arm slightly in a silent order to have the door shut. He scanned the room, his gaze seeming to linger on her just a moment longer than the others.

  She was sure he had no reason to look at her, and at her rank he had no authority to address her without her permission. She must have imagined it. Senior Centurions, of the 1st Cohort no less, would never step out of line.

  The first soldiers were already in their seats, the bowls ready to be lowered over their heads. She made her way to an open seat at the end of one row. She turned and sat down in one fluid motion, placing her arms on the rests, her back straight, eyes looking forward.