Rest. That seemed a joke last night with the memories heavy upon me, but exhaustion had taken me. Safety, I was safe here. I was always safe here, had always been. No matter what, she always helped me, even if I didn’t want it, or probably deserve it. It may be the only place, no matter how harsh she trains, that I have ever felt like I could truly take some downtime. There’s no pretense. She know’s who and what I am.
I’m always amazed at the peace here. The spring morning hinted at clear skies, the sun barely beginning to turn the night sky grey. Probably another thirty minutes before it peaked over the horizon, but I could already hear her outside. Which meant get up because I never heard her unless she wanted to be heard.
A sharp clang outside signaled the end of my rest. I scrambled up and out, to help with the morning chores. I didn’t even sigh.
We had finished breakfast right as the sun cleared the horizon. I was cleaning the pans when Talon spoke, “If you wish to help him, tell him to come tomorrow.”
I paused, and looked at her, and asked the obvious. “Help who?”
“Your troubled friend,” she responded. I was about to retort that they were all fucking bat-shit crazy when my comm-link chirped. Shocked, I answered, thinking that it never fucking works out here.
As I listened to Donager, part of my mind ran through all the possibilities, none of which possibly made since, well, not really, but I suppose they should have.
I give him directions to the small town of Oglesby. “Wait at the general store,” I said. When he asked which one, I laughed for the first time in days. “You’ll know it when you see it.” Then disconnected.
I look at Talon before bowing and saying, “Thank you.”
She looked calmly back at me. “Before you can help him, you must find balance. We resume now.”
I awoke again, but to darkness. Rested, and not. The memory of panic, pain entered my consciousness. The omnipresent cello continued to play. Brahms I somehow knew. Distantly, I could feel the stiffness, the wounds, the stickiness of my blood-drenched pants. I feel the silkiness of the hood over my head, the cold of an empty Chicago warehouse on what remained of my torso.
I sat in the corner of my darkened mind, watching as my previous self raged against the darkness, then escaped for a while to dance along the shores of the unknown sea, while listening to the cello echo across the blackness. Hours passed, then, now. I watched and listened. I could feel the first of the wounds start to turn, smell the infection setting in.
My mental ears pricked, at the echoes of footsteps across the floor. I watched as I returned from the seashore, drawn to the sound, new in the hours that had passed, different, familiar.
Then they spoke. Blondey…..and Sateen. I watched the hopefulness flare across the mind of my captive self, and then watched it fade, become confused, they weren’t even talking about me, nor was she here against her will. I focused on the scents, no tension, only excitement from Maverick.
I returned to the moment as the bitch spoke about trust and lessons. I watched out of the swollen eyes, waiting for the moments to come. I wonder if this is what a meat puppet feels like, right before the drig. When the hood was removed, the eyes of the body flared, blinded but I focused through the glare, watching her face.
For the moment, I ignored the words, they could be listened to later. I watched the muscles around the eyes, the neck, looking, waiting. Saw the arm move, heard the shot. Even now, the distant reminder of the pain in my left foot distracted me.
When she asked the question, I watched my mind struggle with the music to answer, and watched my body fail to respond, except for tears and more blood leaking out of my body. Yet I watched.
She fired again, potentially crippling the body sitting in the chair. More words about betrayal and leadership, trust and punishment. Knowing what was to come I focused, ignoring the body slump as the cello ended.
Maverick carried my body to the car, and I watched, listened as the rage and pain took over, and anger said things that could not be retrieved. Watched as Maverick made a mess with the trauma kit, bandages, watched as Rennie, now, screamed at me, watched as I healed enough of myself to stop from bleeding to death. Watched as the reasons tried to flow out, ignored.
I watched as my body was rescued, and I betrayed my soul.
Last Dreams 