Dystopia (Book 3): Revelations Page 4

  At that, the Lieutenant looked up with amazement, but I continued without giving him the chance to speak. “If aliens took me they could have used a memory ray on me and made me forget all the other stuff but still let me keep the information on how to write and speak.”

  The Lieutenant’s look shifted between shock and annoyance as I continued even faster, I was on a roll now. Swiftly turning to him in an accusing tone I said, “Do you know how this happened? Is this what you are doing? Testing me to see if the memory wipe worked?”

  Shocked the Lieutenant tried to speak, but I cut him off, turning and walking back towards the case saying, “No, no, I don’t think so. I mean why would you take me from the woods and help me with the cut if you are the ones that hurt my head? But, really who is to say the aliens didn’t do anything but erase my memory, and I just fell into a river because I was erased too much?”

  Reaching out for the case again to see his reaction, he started to jump up, but I swiftly turned to him saying, “Do you think it is aliens and this is why we are here and not in a hospital?”

  Before he could speak, I turned again towards the case that made him so nervous and continued, “You see how hard it is? If aliens erased my memory, why would I know we should be in a hospital?” Continuing to talk in circles, not to him but myself, as though I’d lost track of others in the room.

  I began to cry, making the guard shift his feet. The lieutenant said nothing but looked as though he was shocked that anyone could be truly that off-kilter. Nodding to the guard who walked over and took my arm, and without a word escorted me out of the tent.

  Exiting the tent, I could hear the Lieutenant shout for Rich to enter. I could only hear a few shouts before the conversation quieted. The guard from inside the Lieutenant’s office escorted me to the hospital tent I’d been staying in. He stood by, face expressionless. Although, for a brief moment, I thought I saw a hint of a smile. He took his position, standing in front of the entrance to the tent. Feeling awkward, I tried to strike up a conversation while I waited for Rich to return. Refusing to speak to me the guard stood motionless and stared forward acting as though I was not even there. Soon anxiety overtook me, and before I knew it, I was crying for real. Sitting there I realized that I really had no idea what was going on, but I knew I had to get away from this place and find my son.

  It felt like an eternity, the expressionless robot guarding my escape. At last, Rich came to the entry of the tent. I nearly jumped up, until I noticed the look on his face and his hand at his side, almost unperceivable motioning me to remain seated. Something was wrong. His look was troubled and nervous. I looked at the floor, staring at it like it was going to swallow me up.

  I listened as Rich approached the guard saying, “You are relieved, Sargent.”

  The guard nodded to him, turned and left the tent. I started to speak; he put his finger up to his lips indicating a shushing motion. I remained silent as he tinkered with some things on the table across the room. After a few minutes, he came over to the bed and sat on the stool beside me, reaching for my hand he held my wrist to get a pulse. I opened my mouth to speak in protest, as I did he looked at me, slightly shaking his head No. We continued this way in silence, him checking my vitals and writing on his clipboard and tinkering at the table until, finally, he spoke.

  Reaching out to take my hand, he turned it over looking at each side, pressing down and watching the color leave and return. When he took his hand away, he left behind a small note. I closed my hand around the note and sat silently as he continued to write on the clipboard.

  Turning back towards me he handed me a hospital gown and said, “Put this on, I’ll leave you to change and return in a few moments.”

  I did as he said while reading the small note he’d placed in my hand. The words stood out on the paper like a neon sign. “Stay strong my love, you were perfect, but it’s not over yet.”

  Sitting on the bed in the gown, a cold breeze sent chills up my spine. I was growing more and more uncomfortable with every gust of wind that ruffled the tent. My mind was racing, and the questions overwhelmed my thoughts. “Why did he give me a note? What is not over? Who are we hiding things from and who would be listening to us? The lieutenant? And for God’s sake, Why me?”

  Startling me when he entered the tent, I nearly yelled at him. He stood looking at me; his face looked white as if something had drawn all the color from his world. His look frightened me. All at once and for the first time I was scared of him. Rich, the man whom only hours before, professed his love for me. This was unbelievable; I needed to know what it was that scared him. My mind raced, working out the last few moments as the epiphany hit me. That was the key; HE was scared. It was not that I should be scared of him, he was scared for ME. I needed information, the awkward way he was acting, coupled with all of this exam nonsense was making me crazy.

  After gathering a few items from the table and the clipboard, he walked over to me, sitting on the bed. The sun on the white canvas tent made it feel like one of those sterile rooms, indeed a hospital room. He looked at me, his brow furrowed, the troubled gaze of a helpless man.

  I smiled at him. Just a small one, and looked into his eyes. I softened my gaze letting him know I was fine. I knew something bad was on the horizon, but the troubled nature of his state was one of a man helpless to help the one he loved. At that moment I could see the love in his eyes, and the fear subsided, replaced with sadness for him. It was more than that; I loved him. At this moment I knew that I truly loved him. Each day we’d spent together, without even conversation sometimes. I knew him. It felt like my soul knew his, even though we’d not spent that much time, it was enough.

  Damn this camp, deep inside me I knew, possibly for the first time in my life that I loved someone and I couldn’t tell him. I reached slightly toward him grazing the side of his hand with my pinky finger and tried to tell him with my eyes. He looked back with the slightest upturn of his lips. I knew he understood, and it washed over me with a calm feeling.

  As bitchy as I could muster, I blurted out, “I’ve been here for an hour. I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Rich calmly stated, “You will be taken to the latrine when the tests are done.”

  Standing, forgetting that the gown only covered half my ass, bitching loudly, going on about going now, I walked to the entrance to the tent. Flinging the flap open, I was confronted with the looming Sergeant. This is what I was looking to know. I demanded to be taken to the latrine. The Sergeant looked to Rich who nodded to him. With my escort I marched triumphantly to the bathroom, ass hanging out of the gown like a shining beacon for all to see. A few whistles were immediately staved off by the glare of the stoic Sergeant. Entering the outhouse, I shot a glare at the Sergeant as if he had been somehow inappropriate. Looking uncomfortable he turned and faced away from the door.

  Sitting down, I did have to go, and within only a few seconds the Sergeant was rapping on the door to hurry up. Somehow I needed to find a few extra minutes to leave the message for Rich. Then it happened, the rumbling in my abdomen. Normally this would be an embarrassing moment for me knowing there was a listener just outside the door, but today it was perfect. This is not ideal, but it’ll do. I pushed hard, and as my son would have said, “Let one rip!” The sound of flatulence was magnified by the outhouse, and I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or die of embarrassment. I was pretty sure the whole camp heard it.

  Stifling the urge to laugh, I produced a pen from beneath my gown. For once big boob problems turned into a blessing. I was able to tuck it neatly beneath and there it stayed. I grabbed the toilet paper and started writing. “I know you are worried, but don’t be. I need you to know, I love you and look to you to keep us both strong.”

  Finishing up I glanced around the small porta-potty for someplace to stash the note. Settling on crumpling it and placing it into the center of the toilet paper tube, I prayed it wouldn’t fall out if another got here first. I replaced the pen from whence it came and
exited the small structure to find my escort looking somewhat uncomfortable. Grinning to myself I decided to see if I couldn’t make him even more so.

  Shoving past him, I quickened my pace making my already exposed backside even more obvious. Crossing my arms over my chest accentuated this, perhaps a little more than I’d intended, but I was about to lose the pen from its hiding place.

  Having a decent set of “knockers,” as Matt always referred to them, had its perks today. The pen, holding snugly in place, that is until my quickened pace caused a little too much jiggle. Returning to the tent, I shot an accusatory look in the direction of the Sergeant, causing Rich to look at him. The Sergeant immediately exited the tent.

  Rich looked at me confused, tilting his head to the side. The look reminded me of a puppy watching something new. A half grin, rolling my eyes right then left, I yawned and stretched my arms above my head. The pen making only the slightest sound as it hit the canvas floor. Feeling accomplished, I plopped onto the bed. Rich looked at me knowingly and stepped over the pen to the table reaching for his stethoscope.

  He listened to my heart and breathing, did a few other meaningless tasks and turned to me saying, “You may dress now. Your clothes are on the bedside table, but I’ve placed your unmentionables under your pillow. I’ll be back in a few minutes to talk with you.”

  Anxious to see what was under the pillow, I lifted it and found a note. Quickly dressing, I turned to the note. “Darling, I fear for your safety. The Lieutenant is not happy, but you were great. He will now start some unpleasant procedures to try and see if you can remember anything. Please be strong; I’m going to get you out of here. Hang on a few days. I love you!”

  His note frightened me, I had no idea what kinds of unpleasant things I could be facing, but almost every woman can attest that the first thing that comes to mind is how vulnerable they are. Our worst fear is the violation that can be inflicted and used as torture.

  That night, I lay in silent reflection of the day’s events. The knowledge that something uncomfortable was on the horizon and the worry about Matty left me restless and unable to sleep. I was sure that John and Amy would care for him and keep him safe, but knowing your only son was out in a world that has more dangers than pleasantries, was a horrifying thought. The helplessness at the inability to care for him myself and the worry for what Morgan might do to him if she ever knew he saw her kill Kevin, all kept me awake and in a state of anxiety. The tears flowed that night from both fear of tomorrow and a longing for yesterday.

  Chapter 5

  “Allies”

  “The darkest moments of our lives are not to be buried and forgotten; rather they are a memory to be called upon for inspiration to remind us of the unrelenting human spirit and our capacity to overcome the intolerable.”

  -Vince Lombardi

  The light shown grey against the white tent, not the usual morning sun. The normal yellow hue that would brighten it feeling like sunflowers and showered the room was missing today. The day was cloudy, like my mood. Exhaustion overtaking me last night and finally, I slept, it was not the kind of sleep that gave rest but one of the endless nightmares. My eyes still red and puffy from the tears of the night before, I was dressed and taken to the Lieutenant before I’d even had breakfast. I was hungry, and my head hurt from the fretful night and lack of caffeine, also having been denied even coffee. Rich was nowhere to be seen. I could not help wondering if he’d been caught with my note or somehow found out. Again fear gripped my consciousness, and I prayed for deliverance.

  Entering the makeshift office of the Lieutenant was different today. A more somber tone hung in the air. He sat unmovingly and without looking up said, “Good Morning, miss.”

  To which I replied, “Good Morning Lieutenant.”

  Looking up at me he asked, “What troubles you today?”

  I said, “I didn’t sleep well, I feel worried.”

  Halting what he’d been writing, he looked at me closer and asked, “Have you been crying?”

  Looking at my feet, I replied, “I’m sorry, I had terrible nightmares last night, and they frightened me.”

  I could see the look of intrigue on his face. I knew he would want to know what they had been about. Hoping he might find some pieces of my lost memory floating amongst the dreams.

  With a kinder tone and offering me a seat he said, “Tell me about them, won’t you?”

  Sitting in the chair opposite him at the table, I let the tears roll down my cheeks. Hoping to garner some sympathy from him. I began, “First, I was lost, and it was so dark. The chill in the air made me shiver. I remember I was looking for someone.” The Lieutenant sat straighter as I continued, “I don’t know who I was searching for because, before I could find them something came from the darkness. It chased me trying to steal my thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t get away until I woke up.”

  The Lieutenant sighed as he went back to writing, without much interest he said, “Go on.”

  Still crying I said, “Sir, can you tell me who I am?”

  He looked up, shocked, and said, “Miss, I’m trying to find out who you are.”

  I nodded, stifling a sniffle, wiping my tears on my sleeve. He asked, “Is that all that scared you last night?”

  I said, “No, I had a few of these dreams. Every time I was running from something that wanted to steal my memories. It wanted me to forget my family and my life.”

  Again, looking at me he asked, “Do you have a family?”

  Glaring at him, I sneered, “Everyone has someone.

  Parents, brothers, sisters, a cousin or an aunt. I feel like I would at least have an aunt maybe or at least a damn cat that might not want me to be hurt or something.” Sniffling, I acted truly indignant.

  All the while a man stood in the corner behind me shuffling and making small noises of either acknowledgment or the occasional “huh” sound. After saying that he made the sound again.

  This annoyed me, and I turned to him and snapped, “Ok, little man with the ghastly green jacket, what the hell are you grunting about?”

  Stunned that I even noted his presence, he stammered for an answer as the Lieutenant said, “I’m sorry, this is Doctor Hostin. He is a psychologist who has offered his services to help you recall what you’ve forgotten.”

  Scoffing I said, “More like Doctor Hostile. Why would this little creepy man be lurking in the corner and not come right out and say so anyway?” I was being intentionally adversarial.

  He scurried over and began whispering in the ear of the Lieutenant.

  Flopping myself back against the chair and folding my arms across my chest, I looked towards the shelving and rolled my eyes in disgust saying to no one in particular, “Like I said, creepy little man.”

  He stood up looking at me and said, “Davidson was right about you.”

  Anger flashed in my eyes, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Catching a knowing look in his raised eyebrows as he said, “That you were a bitch.”

  The Lieutenant stood up saying, “Enough! Both of you.” Looking at the doctor, he asked, “What do you think?”

  The doctor nodded at me as he began to speak, but before he could, I blurted out in an accusing tone, but one that said I found him contemptuous and irritating, “Yea, Doctor Hostile, what do you think?” Dragging out the word doctor for effect. I was not yet sure if this doctor was friend or foe but felt like if Rich said I was a bitch, I should act the part.

  Ignoring my comment, he continued, “Sir, I believe the content manifested in the dreams are both latent and manifest. There could be some PTSD that is possible surrounding the event associated with the memory loss, causing her to project a desire for the safety of family or loved ones. However, I believe the latent content is causing a displacement of the event into the unseen being and hence the belief that it is aliens.”

  Cutting him off the Lieutenant said, “Doctor, in English please.”

  Giving him a nod, he said, “Sir, I
believe there is a traumatic event surrounding the amnesia. If we can find the underlying event, I think it will help uncover the rest of her memories.”

  I thought to myself, ‘Bullshit, that’s not what he said. He said he knows what really happened.’

  He continued, “I could try some regression therapy with her to see if we can unlock the memories.”

  Shooing us out the door and looking at some papers on his desk he said, “Very well, you have until tomorrow.”

  The doctor tried to object saying something about it taking time, but the Lieutenant cut him off, without even looking up, he said, “Tomorrow.”

  The doctor replied, “Yes sir.”

  As we were about to leave and without even a nod he said, “Tomorrow, the area overseer will be here to question her. For her sake, I hope you make progress.”

  The guard, whom until now, had never spoken a word, said in a panicked tone, “The black suits? Are coming here?”

  With obvious discomfort himself, the Lieutenant put his pen down, looked up and replied with an exasperated sigh, “Yes Sergeant, so I suggest you whip your men into shape."

  I recall that term, “Black Suits.” I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it. I did, however, recall it was not a good thing. Walking back to the medical tent with the doctor on one side and Sergeant on the other felt very much like imprisonment. I was without a doubt, in trouble and better think of something fast. What I couldn’t understand is why someone like me was even important. Why were they so interested in my memories? I was just an average person with no special talents or knowledge. What could they possibly want?

  My thoughts jumping from one place to the next, I’d hardly noticed that we were at the door to the tent. Looking around as if he’d lost something, the doctor instructed the Sergeant to stand at the door while he went for his briefcase. Sneering at him, I went inside. I looked around the familiar tent, but there was no Rich. Where was he? I was still worried about him and was feeling very frightened, not only for myself but for him as well. I knew deep inside that this was going to get worse before it got better and I needed Rich to help me hold it together. My thoughts raced to my note. Questioning in my own head “Did they catch him with my note? Why has he not returned?” I then internalized things thinking maybe my profession of love had scared him off.