Dystopia (Book 3): Revelations Read online

  There is a slight breeze; it brushes my hair across my face. The smoke smells stronger, it tickles my nose and makes me cough slightly. I realize the smoke would be coming from the direction of the breeze. Turning into the wind, I can smell it even stronger. I venture forth, stumbling through the underbrush, which returned with painful clarity as I left the pines behind. Carelessly shoving shrubs aside, they snag my clothes and hair. Thorns scratch my face, and I feel the warm blood trickle down my cheek. Feeling as though I may lose consciousness at any time, I concentrate on the smoke. Cautiously, I make my way towards the oaky smell. It is becoming stronger, and the smoke is in a narrower area, I know I must be coming closer to its source.

  Hearing voices, I call out, “Help me, please.” I thought it came out like a loudspeaker, but in reality was barely more than a squeak. Continuing to stumble towards the smoke and voices, again I call out, “Someone, please help me.”

  I can see them, it’s a camp ahead of me, there are people milling around and a fire in the center. Glorious warm fire, I wonder why I hadn’t noticed how cold I was until now.

  Willing my legs to propel me into the camp, I half run, half stumble toward them. The familiar dark circle begins to close in on my vision again, and I know the darkness is coming, I can’t stop it. Weakly I cry out, as I stumble and fall at the edge of the thicket, “Help me.” At that moment, I can feel my consciousness slipping, and I don’t care that thorns pierce my extremities, I can’t go on any further. The darkness takes me again as I lay tangled in a bed of thorns.

  Chapter 2

  “I’m Safe”

  “For a change, lady luck seemed to be smiling on me. Then again, maybe the fickle wench was just lulling me into a false sense of security while she reached for a rock.”

  -Timothy Zahn

  My consciousness is returning; I feel warm and dry for the first time in days. I can’t open my eyes yet. Laying there, nearly reveling in the warmth and comfort, forgetting almost anything unpleasant for just a moment before; I hear it, and it registers, there are voices nearby. Weakly I call out, pleading with some unknown person “Help me please.” The last thing I remember is the group of people milling about the fire. I hope they can hear me.

  A voice from beside me speaks. It is a man’s voice; it is deep, but gentle and soft.

  He says, “You’re all right now, just rest.”

  Feeling somehow comforted by the voice the consciousness again slips away having never even opened my eyes to see where the voice came from.

  Again, I awake, feeling just a little better. I’m still warm, but my head hurts. Squinting I open my eyes, it is daytime, but all I can see is white. The light in my eyes feels blinding, it hurts my eyes, but I have to know. “Where am I?” Looking at my surroundings I can see that there are things about me, unfamiliar things, but somehow I know that they are used in hospitals. Wondering if I’m in a hospital, yet also knowing I’m not. The smell is one of antiseptic, I can still catch a hint of the burning wood in the fire, but it is very faint. I look up, and clarity returns to my vision, and I realize it is a tent. A white canvas tent is where this is, and now I’m really confused. I can’t understand why hospital equipment would be in a tent. Something about this feels all wrong, and I begin to panic crying out for help again.

  A man enters the tent and says, “Its ok miss, please be careful, or you will pull out your IV.”

  I recognize the voice; it was the one I heard before. Opening my eyes, I see the man. He was tall with kind eyes and neat as a pin. His army fatigues looked very tidy with a small name tag on the shirt that said ‘Davidson.' Weakly I try to sit, as I ask, “Where am I, what is this place?”

  Putting his hand on my shoulder, he says, “Please lay back; you’re not strong enough to sit up yet.”

  He continues while he fusses with my tubing, telling me it is an army encampment and they found me in the thicket. His tone was one of detachment, almost like he was talking to no one and someone at the same time. He didn’t really look at me but continued to do the things he had been doing.

  Checking my pulse without an interruption in thought, “You’re lucky you found us. I’m not sure you would have made another night in the woods.”

  I tell him I’m hungry, and he smiles. It is the first bit of emotion I see on his face. I notice his eyes and that the smile seemed to emanate from the corners of his eyes instead of his mouth. Nodding, he excuses himself and exits the tent.

  A few moments later a young woman enters with a bowl, she is barely in her twenties and obviously not in the military. Her clothes were tattered, and her long blonde hair, tied in a loose braid had little sprigs sticking out in odd directions. She smelled like she’d been standing right next to the fire the smoky odor was not as attractive on her as it was in the air. She looked like a refugee or something from that show I used to watch where the people were trying to avoid zombies. “Damn it; I can’t remember the name.”

  I wonder about her, but I don’t question it and hungrily accept the broth she feeds me. It was warm and a little salty, it felt good as it passed my lips. I could never have imagined how good a little broth might taste. I fell asleep without even a word of thanks to the young lady.

  Awakening again, I feel famished and quite a bit better. Sitting up on my elbows I saw the man, the man with the smiling eyes. He stood with his back to me attending to something on a table.

  I asked, “Can you tell me where I am?”

  He turned from his work at the table and smiled that smile again, saying, “Well now sleepy girl aren’t you looking better?”

  Nodding I said, “I do feel much better. Do I have you to thank for that?”

  Walking over to sit in the chair beside me he said, “I will fill you in on everything, but for now, how about a little something to eat?”

  Nodding vigorously in agreement, which reminded me of my head. I grimaced, and then smiled at him. In turn, he gave me a nod as he rose and exited the tent. Only a few moments later he returned with a plate and a steaming cup. Oh, how I hoped that cup contained coffee.

  Setting it on the table, he asked, “Do you think you can sit up?”

  I hurriedly began to right myself. Placing his hand on my shoulder again he said, “Relax, not too much yet. I’ll raise the bed.”

  After settling into a seated position, he placed the tray in my lap. Excited, I could see that the cup indeed contained coffee and on the plate was a bowl of steaming oatmeal with fresh raspberries.

  Hungrily I began to eat, but the gentleman admonished me saying, “Slowly now, take it easy or you’ll get sick.”

  Watching me as I ate he said, “I have a fun fact you might like to know, the raspberries came from the same thorny area as you did.” I let out a small chuckle as I continued to eat.

  I still had no idea where I was, who I was, or how I came to be in that river. I told the man as much, and he said it was likely because of the severe concussion, and my memory might return once I regain my strength.

  We talked a little while, and I learned that I was in Pennsylvania at an army encampment. I didn’t feel like anything about my location was familiar to me, but I haven’t been outside the tent to look around at all. I was, as yet, unsure as to why the military had an encampment in the woods of Pennsylvania but felt thankful that I was rescued by the man with smiling eyes and his camp of army men. The thought made me smile. I didn’t know why but it reminded me of some kind of fairy tale.

  I knew two things at this point, I’m lucky to be alive, and I have a hideous orange hair. Looking in the mirror, I noticed the scratches on my face and fussed over them. I can see that I’m overweight, not obese, but definitely, have some extra pounds. I’m not at all impressed with what I see and wondered, “Do I even have a cat that will claim me as their own?” I’m not even sure why I felt unhappy with my appearance. Curiously questioning my existence I’m left feeling depressed. Resolving that something would give in time, I lay down. Hoping that sleep would offer some pea
ce in the mass of confusion that lingered in my mind.

  The next day, or at least I think it has been simply overnight. I feel better and want to get out of the tent. I’m not at all sure of the time, each waking moment is like a short nap, but the difference in my injuries feels longer. The man came in, and smiling, when he saw I was sitting up on my own said, “Would you like to take a short walk around camp?”

  Nodding, I begin to swing my feet over to the side of the bed.

  He put his hand up saying, “Hold on, just relax a minute. Your clothes have been cleaned; I’ll go get them for you”.

  Returning moments later with my clothes. He handed them to me and exited the tent so I could change. Horrified to see that I had been wearing leopard print stretch pants and a pink hoodie, I looked at the clothes with disgust as I fumbled with the ties on the back of the hospital gown.

  Shaking my head I wondered, who was I? “This is all going to have to change,” of that, I was sure. “As soon as I make it back to civilization, I am burning these clothes and fixing the damn orange hair. That will be my first order of business.”

  Again, I was not sure why I suddenly felt uncomfortable with my appearance. Possibly because the others I had seen coming and going from the tent were dressed either in camo or jeans, making my leopard print look slightly ridiculous.

  Stepping out of the tent, the sun was bright. It took me a minute to gather my bearings, my head spun a little.

  The man caught me before I fell saying, “You need to take a moment to orient yourself, you’ve suffered a severe concussion.”

  Sitting on a stool outside the door of the tent, I took a few moments to look about the area. In the center of the camp, was a large fire pit, that seemed to have multiple fires going with pots hanging over two of them and another with a grate for grilling. There were a number of women fussing nearby, cooking and doing other things surrounding the fire. To the left was a tent where an enlisted man stood guard outside the door. To the right was a row of smaller tents of many shapes and sizes. Some with small children playing nearby, and others sitting around smaller fires. It looked like a smaller camp inside the camp.

  This did not look, at all, like some kind of exercise that I was sure I must have seen on TV. I would assume it was not what the military would conduct in these times. It looked like a refugee camp. I sat wondering why there would be a refugee camp in the middle of Pennsylvania. Shocked for a moment, I realized that I knew something about myself. “How do I know this is Pennsylvania?” Again, questioning myself, “How did I get to Pennsylvania? I know for certain one thing more…I didn’t live in Pennsylvania.”

  The man was approaching, and I began to speak, I wanted to say something was coming back; but he silenced me saying, “Questions later, first let’s walk. I’ll explain what is here as we walk, then you and I can chat about things. Sound ok to you?”

  I nodded, and he helped me stand. Holding his arm, we began our stroll about the camp. It was much larger than my view from the stool offered, and by now I am sure that something is terribly wrong. I now am not sure of anything, but decided to keep my revelation to myself for now. During the walk about the camp, he pointed some of the areas out. Civilian area, which was full of all different forms of tents and makeshift shelters. This was where I’d seen the children playing. There was the medical area, where I was recovering, and another area that looked like a covered picnic spot. There were people sitting at long tables, eating and drinking coffee.

  Looking up at him I asked if I could have a cup, which he hurriedly retrieved for me. Standing there looking around for myself, I could see a path from the picnic area heading straight out into the woods. It was well traversed and had a guard standing by the path. Thinking we would go that way, I moved in the direction of the path. The man appeared with the coffee and steered me in the other direction. We walked with my coffee. It felt warm in my hands, the pungent odor wafting up to my nostrils I was lost in the moment. We came to another area that was for the military tents. They were all set up in neat rows, each having things outside neatly arranged and folded.

  Beyond that area was the one with the guard, he called it the Ops tent. There were some other areas we looked at that were behind the medical area. It was near the river where there were people washing clothes and hanging them out to dry. Yet another beyond that point, downstream. Another guard stood watching some men talking next to a table made with saw horses. Behind them, I saw two deer hanging upside down from a tree. Noticing my grimace, he told me that it was the game processing area. All in all, it looked like a small medieval town with people doing all manner of tasks. The question still nagged me, “Why the guards?”

  Back inside the camp itself, some women were knitting, and sewing and men were chopping wood. All seamlessly maintaining different facets of the community. But still, I had no idea why all this would be in the middle of Pennsylvania. Which, was all I knew… where I was. We returned to what he called the mess tent for a bite to eat and more coffee and to talk about all that I had seen.

  Sitting down he began, “So tell me, how it is you came to be in the woods?”

  After a few moments of thought, I replied, “I really don’t know, the only thing I can remember is waking up on the river. It was cold, and I was going down the river on a tree. It took me two days to get out of the river. I smelled your fire and following the smell; I made my way in the woods to find it.”

  He furrowed his brow as he asked, “Do you know who hit you?”

  I looked at him curiously asking, “Someone hit me?”

  He replied, “The doctor said your head injury was definitely caused by multiple blows to the head.”

  This scared me, and I could not help crying as I said, “I don’t know. Do you think they are out there somewhere?”

  He shrugged, trying to seem unbothered by it by saying, “Whoever did it, likely tossed you into the river and believes you dead.” His cool response to such a question left me feeling confused.

  Becoming more upset I blurted out, “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know who I am or why I’m here. I don’t understand why there is a whole camp here in the middle of the woods, and why so many guards. I don’t get any of this.” Sobbing, I laid my head on the table. I was already feeling tired again. It was almost as if I’d taken some kind of sleeping pill, things started to get fuzzy. I could have fallen asleep with my head on that table.

  The man sighed and said, “I am so sorry, it didn’t occur to me that with the loss of your memory, you were unaware of the state of things now.”

  I looked up tears streaking my cheeks, thinking to myself, “There you go, Sherlock.” Reigning in my attitude, I decided to hold my tongue and simply nodded no. Hanging my head staring into the coffee cup, fixating on the brown liquid with a light steam rising into the air and quickly dissipating. My mind wandered, I hoped that someday I would know the answers to those questions, and if I even had someone out there, somewhere. Someone that cared. Somewhere deep inside I knew I did, I felt it, there was someone I needed to be with. Someone, I needed to find.

  Sitting with my own thoughts, I wondered how I would ever find out. Sipping the dark and bitter, black coffee, I looked up tears in my eyes. Realizing I didn’t even know who it was, I was speaking with; I asked the man. “What’s your name?”

  Chapter 3

  “Awakening”

  “With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.”

  -Eleanor Roosevelt

  The next few days were the same as the others, walks around the camp, followed by chit-chat in the mess area. I found it strange that I was never permitted to mingle with the other refugees. Sometimes I would see one of them staring at me or one of the enlisted men yelling at them. It seemed strange, but I just figured it was the stress of the events. There was a lot to take in; I’d had no idea that so much happened already, and could only assume that these events were the reason I was out in the woods, to begin with.

  Rich beg
an telling me about the events of the past few weeks, but I think he wanted to spare me anxiety because I felt like he was not telling me everything. He was a kind man and often worried for my comfort.

  He explained about Ebola and how it had been discovered in some American cities. Telling me that there were camps across the country to quarantine those who’d become infected. I recalled something about worries for Ebola in the news, but nothing about it being local. I was lost in a world of wonder, thinking to myself, “Did I actually recall something about it or was it a trick my mind was playing?” As he told me about the bank holiday and the following economic crash that brought about chaos, I was disturbed to find I recalled none of this part of things. Which made me wonder if I actually remembered something about Ebola or not.

  He explained that the opportunistic terrorists chose this time to take out many power transfer stations around the country. Saying, “No one really knows how many, but it was more than fifty, and it was big ones after that it caused a cascade. We are guessing that the power will not be returning anytime soon, a large part of the infrastructure is burned out.”

  He finished his tale by telling me that other countries suspected of the sabotage against the United States were sent into darkness as well, with the work of EMPs. Worldwide chaos was well underway, and yet this little haven felt completely safe.

  I felt overwhelmed, again I was feeling fuzzy. I thought coffee should wake a person up. Thinking it was likely my head still, I asked if I could lay down, my head swimming with all this new information. I could not process the vastness of the devastation. Rich was always kind to me, although I had no idea why. Ever since the first day when I heard his voice, it made me feel somehow comforted.

  He escorted me back to the medical tent, helped me to my bed and brought me some tea to help ease the anxiety from the revelations of just how bad things were. Laying there, I knew there was someone out there that knew me, someone who would care that I was still alive, and it was agonizing not being able to remember.