The Wrath of the Revenant Page 5

  "In that case, I think I would like to spend some time with my father."

  Alice smiled.

  "I believe that can be arranged."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tremain awoke to total darkness. He flailed about, not feeling his body.

  "Oh, now this is interesting." He said . . . or at least, he thought he said it, not being able to feel his mouth either. He felt his awareness floating in this sea of blackness. It was relaxing as well as aggravating.

  "I wish I could see something." Pinpricks of light began to appear in random patterns across his field of vision. Some were larger than others, some were smaller. All were sparkling in various intensities. They continued to expand until he was looking over the vastness of a nearby galaxy.

  "I don't know how I can breathe in space, but this is . . . beautiful." He felt a presence next to him as a glowing orb appeared, tendrils of energy snapping and coiling around it. A warm glow . . . a recognition overcame him. "Sen."

  "Greetings." The glow bobbed. The voice was audible but wasn't. Disconcerting.

  "Where are we?" Tremain asked.

  "Your mind."

  Tremain gasped, the implications overwhelming him.

  "My mind? How? The glow was you entering my head? Then these aren't stars, are they?"

  "You're catching on."

  Tremain could see more stars had appeared. He examined the one closest to them. He could see movement just below the surface, shapes just barely recognizable. He gasped.

  "They're memories!"

  Sen laughed. Tremain could feel the joy Sen was filled with at being able to share the experience.

  "Yes, they are your memories. Come." Sen moved towards the nearest star. Tremain found he didn't know how to move. He had no visible means of locomotion.

  "Um . . . Sen, would you be kind enough to educate me on how to move?"

  In response, Tremain felt himself being pulled along. Feeling helpless did not improve his mood. "If I survive this, I am going to take him apart, bit by rusty bit." He thought to himself.

  The globe of light became so large he could see nothing else. He pierced the surface, the glow suffusing him. When he could see again, he froze in shock.

  He stood in a hospital room, the smell of antiseptic making that fact perfectly clear. It was a private room, the ping of machinery sounding every so often. The figure in the bed was hidden behind someone leaning over the bed. She was on tip-toes to be able to reach. He heard a kissing sound. She stood and turned to look in his direction. It was his sister, Davie. She looked so young, with her red hair pulled back into a large ponytail. Her eyes were bright with tears. Tremain realized where he was.

  "My father's hospital room. This is the day he died." He felt Sen pull him to the side as Davie spoke.

  "Here comes Tremain now." She gestured to a figure just coming into the room.

  Tremain saw himself as a young man shuffle into the room. The younger version of himself wasn't the most spectacular thing he'd ever seen. The boy's hair was long and unkempt, just brushed back with some sticking up and out all over the place. His t-shirt was too large and hung off him. His jeans, also just a bit too large, were rolled up at the ankles. His shoes were untied, the laces making a clicking sound as they hit the linoleum. The bed started moving, raising up to allow the figure to sit up more. Tremain felt conflicting emotions as he saw his father.

  His head was hairless, liver spots dotted the scalp. The eyes were sharp, taking in the room and his two visitors. An oxygen tube wrapped around his head, taped just under his nose. The eyes followed Tremain as he came around to the other side of the bed. When the old man spoke, the voice was barely over a whisper.

  "Nice of you to find time to visit me." His voice was cold.

  The young Tremain shrugged, looking at his shoes, his hands grasping the bed-rail.

  "I've been busy." He mumbled.

  The older man reached a withered arm and grabbed the boy's hand, the grip stronger than one would believe from such a frail man.

  "Nice of you to pull yourself away from your precious lab." The voice came stronger now. "I won't be around much longer for you to ignore."

  The voices grew dim as Sen's presence filled Tremain's mind.

  "Why does your sire feel this way about you?"

  Tremain's conflicted emotions were creating ripples in the space around him. The hospital bed and visitors wavered.

  "He never understood my fascination with science. He felt it was a waste of time rather than doing something productive to help the colony. Besides that, I think he resented the fact I didn't need him any longer." His sadness turned to frustration and anger. "Why are we visiting my memories? I thought we were going to help me understand your people?"

  The waves of emotion rippling from Tremain had pushed Sen's essence to the wall of the hospital room. With a surge of power, Sen pulled them out of that particular memory. Tremain found himself floating in the galaxy of memories once again.

  Another star had shifted and was now in front of them. "Let us look at another." They pushed through the surface once again.

  Tremain now found himself standing in the lab. An older woman wearing a lab coat was waving her arms and talking down a young lab assistant with unruly hair. Tremain was seeing himself once again.

  "Marjorie." He exclaimed as he recognized the older woman. "I haven't talked to her in a while. I should probably pay her a visit."

  Sen froze the memory and wove in between the figures.

  "This woman was your superior. Why is she berating you?"

  Tremain suppressed a laugh.

  "She always yelled at me, her bosses, and whoever else she could. It was her way of showing affection, I believe."

  The figures moved once again, the dressing-down apparently over, the older woman brushing a strand of dirty-blond hair away from her face and motioning the younger Tremain to get back to work. The young man hustled off to a workbench, where an elaborate apparatus of beakers, test tubes and Bunsen burners sat. Tremain watched as the older woman studied his younger self, hidden by another piece of equipment. She soon nodded, smiling slightly. Tremain sought out Sen, who was floating nearby.

  "Have you seen enough? What could you hope to gain by this if you're going to destroy us anyway?"

  Sen thought for a moment, his ball of light weaving around the memory of the lab.

  "I don't understand how you form attachments without communing." He moved to study Marjorie, then back to the young Tremain.

  Tremain realized almost at once what Sen referred to.

  "Ah! I think I understand. Your people link your minds together. We humans communicate by talking to each other. We use language to get our points across." Another revelation hit him. "And that's what you and I are doing right now, isn't it? This is communing."

  Sen's confusion was palpable. It flowed off him in waves.

  "Yes, in a very limited way." He said. "I am restraining my mind so as not to overtax yours."

  Tremain moved himself closer to Marjorie. He was finding it easier to direct himself in this environment.

  "I wonder why you'd take such care at all," Tremain said, "aren't I just another pest?"

  The ball of light that was Sen pulled Tremain back out into the void. The galaxy of Tremain's memories pulsed brightly around them. Tremain could feel the turmoil Sen was experiencing. He understood the powerful being's preconceived notions about humanity were starting to crack under the evidence of Tremain's own memories. He knew just what he had to do.

  "It's not easy to contemplate wholesale genocide, now is it? How about we see another memory?" Tremain concentrated, calling up two more glowing spheres. The first bright orb approached and absorbed them.

  They were in another hospital room, this one appointed much more comfortably. The walls were a calming, homey brown color and the furniture resembled more of a living room than a hospital room. A woman sat in the bed, looking exhausted, her red hair hung over her tired eyes. She brighte
ned as a nurse, carrying a bundle swaddled in a receiving blanket came over to her. She held out her arms and cradled the little baby, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

  "What is this?" Sen asked.

  "This is the day Christopher was born. That's my sister Davie, and right about now," The door burst open and Daylin bustled in with an overflowing bag of clothes, baby things and other stuff. A lab-coated Tremain was right behind him, picking up items strewn about the floor after falling out of his brother-in-law's bag. Daylin looked panicked, his clean-shaven face gaunt and pale. The nurse held up her hands to shush the two as they bustled into the room.

  "Now boys, let's keep it quiet." She admonished them. "This little one has had a long morning." She gave Davie a smile and an eye-roll and left the room. Davie grinned and beckoned to her husband.

  "Do you want to see your son?" She asked. Daylin quickly dropped the bag and rushed to his wife's side. He ran a finger across the baby boy's cherub cheek.

  "What are we going to name him?" He whispered. Davie turned her head to look at her brother, who had hung back, not wanting to impose on them.

  "How about we name him Christopher, after his grandfather?" She raised her eyebrows at Tremain, the question directed as much at him as her husband. Tremain smiled and nodded.

  "Christopher." Daylin repeated, not seeing the silent exchange between them. "I like it. Christopher."

  Sen interrupted the scene before them, his words cutting in over the rest of the conversation.

  "Why is naming so important to you?" He asked.

  "It's one of the first decisions a parent has to make. A name is a very important thing. It has to fit."

  "How do you know?"

  Tremain laughed. The ripples disrupting the memory, causing him and Sen to be pushed out of this globe and into the path of the second memory.

  "A parent just knows." He said as they were engulfed by the light of the sphere.

  The found themselves in Tremain's lab. Tremain was just coming out from the kitchen area, a glass of milk in his hand, when he stopped and looked over at his desk. His shoulders slumped and a huge grin enveloped his face. He leaned into the doorway and watched as Christopher, only about six or seven years old, struggled to fit into his uncle's lab coat, which had been laid across the back of the desk chair. The boy had his arms in the sleeves and was smoothing out the lapels. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a half-eaten sandwich.

  "Oops" The now-Tremain whispered. "I seem to have a habit of forgetting to eat my lunches." He chuckled. "Something I'll need to work on." Then he remembered Sen's declaration. "If I live that long." He moved to the side as his younger self walked over to the desk with the glass of milk.

  "You're going to have to grow up a bit more before that fits you better." He said to his nephew.

  Christopher patted at the pockets.

  "You have a lot of stuffs in here." He said in his small voice.

  Tremain laughed.

  "Yes I do." He unwrapped the lab coat from his nephew and put it back on the chair. "Because I have lots to do and I need lots of stuffs to do it." He handed the glass to the boy. "Now drink this up and we'll get you back to your mother. She should be home soon. Maybe she's had news of your father's expedition. You know," He paused, looking from the lab coat to his nephew. "We might look into getting one of these lab coats for you." He chuckled once more. "Let's see what you mother has to say about that, eh?" The boy nodded, the glass now empty. He gave an exaggerated burp.

  "I want a lab coat. Then I can have lots of stuffs in my pockets too."

  Tremain laughed and picked Christopher up, heading towards the lab door.

  "Then let's see what we can do about that."

  Sen and Tremain exited the memory.

  "I can feel the bond you have with your nephew." Sen started. "You do not commune, yet you bond with each other. How is this possible?"

  Tremain almost felt pity for this being who could not understand this basic thing about humanity.

  "We just do. I can't explain it. It's an emotional connection we have." Tremain glanced around at the galaxy of memories. "We can spend a lifetime, well, my lifetime, going over every memory in my head, Sen." He zoomed out to see the galaxy of memories in full. It filled his field of vision, each spiral arm gracefully swirling into the center. "I have a lot of them too, near perfect memory and all." He looked to Sen, who hovered silently. "I don't know what you can learn from me or my memories."

  Sen moved closer to Tremain. He could feel the other being's confusion fading.

  "You have shown me enough. Now," He pulled Tremain with him. The galaxy that was Tremain's memories faded to a pinpoint. "I shall show you mine."

  Tremain could feel a resistance as he realized he was leaving his own mind and entering Sen's. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, it was almost slippery, like he was wearing a shoe that was much too large for him. A pinpoint of light appeared in front of them, growing larger with each second.

  In moments, Sen's memories were arrayed before them. Instead of galaxies of stars, they resembled shards of glass, each one twinkling. Some were smooth edged, others were sharp and jagged. As many memories as Tremain had, Sen's mind contained billions and billions more. Some were darker, others shone with a light that was almost blinding. A black mist swirled between and around each shard. Sen approached one bright fragment, a tendril of light softly caressing the surface. He hesitated only a moment before he pulled Tremain into it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Christopher approached the room where his father was imprisoned, Alice by his side. He hesitated at the archway.

  "Why do you stop?" Alice asked.

  "I should knock first." Christopher answered and reached up a hand. There was movement in the room.

  "Chris? Is that you?" Came a voice, followed by Daylin, appearing from around the corner.

  He was still painfully thin, but it looked as if he had taken time to smooth his hair. His beard seemed neater as well.

  "Yeah, Dad, it's me. I wanted to talk to you some more." He still hesitated.

  Daylin gestured into the room.

  "Of course, come on in."

  The room looked exactly as it did the night previous. The beds were the same, with Smitty crouched in the corner near the window. He seemed to be asleep. For now. Christopher was relieved as the man creeped him out.

  "I have to tell you, Chris, I didn't sleep a lot last night." Daylin said softly. "Finding out I'd been gone so long, seeing you . . .” He trailed off. Christopher sat next to his father on the bed.

  "I know. I thought you were . . . well, you know. It's going to take some time to get used to."

  Daylin shrugged.

  "If we ever get out of here. I don't know about you, but I don't think that metal monster is going to let us go so easy."

  Alice, who had been standing just inside the archway, came into the room further.

  "Maybe you'd like to sit in the courtyard?" she asked. "It might be a more pleasant spot for a visit."

  Daylin pointed to the archway.

  "Can't leave, remember? Something your boss did to my head."

  Alice smiled and held her hands at her side, palms forward.

  "I think Sen's a little busy. You should be free to move about the castle."

  At that, Smitty jumped up, startling everyone. He cackled loudly.

  "Free?" he whined. He trembled, then shot forward, past Alice and out into the corridor. "FREEEE . . .” He shouted as he galloped. His fading cry echoed.

  Alice shook her head, an enigmatic smile on her face.

  "Won't that piss off the big guy?" Daylin asked.

  "Do we care?" Christopher replied.

  "I don't think Sen has recently given much thought to you or your companion." Alice admitted. She turned slightly and indicated the doorway. "He's otherwise engaged at the moment, and as you can see, his block has faded. How about that courtyard? I can bring some refreshments."

  Daylin stood, took a deep brea
th and shuffled towards the exit. He hesitated as he neared, cocked his head to the side, then continued out into the corridor. His eyes were bright and sharp as he turned to Christopher.

  "Let's go get some fresh air." He said.

  Christopher nodded and smiled as he took his father's arm.

  "We have a lot to catch up on."

  Daylin patted his son's hand.

  "I have no doubt."

  They returned to the courtyard Christopher had sat in earlier. The sunlight played off the leaves of the tree, leaving dappled shadows everywhere. A soft breeze swirled around, pushing some fallen leaves. It was peaceful.

  Daylin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  "I thought I would never see anything other than the inside of that room for the rest of my life." He opened his eyes and shuffled over to a bench, where he plopped down, his legs giving out under him. Christopher sat beside him.

  "So where do we start?" Christopher asked.

  Daylin scratched at his beard.

  "What do you remember of me?" he asked, tentatively.

  "Not much," Christopher admitted. "I remember you leaving on your trip, but I was little, so I didn't understand what had happened until I was older and I asked Uncle Tremain."

  Daylin shifted on the bench, his hands alternating from the stone of the bench to wringing themselves in his lap.

  "Did they ever come looking for us?"

  Christopher nodded.

  "Yeah, they did. Uncle Tremain told me they tracked you guys to your last known camp. All they found was shredded tents and broken equipment. It looked like it had been abandoned."

  "In a manner of speaking, I guess it was." Daylin squirmed on the bench. "Our expedition was to find and catalogue the flora and fauna of the area. We’d just finished our first survey when we were taken away, all of us, at the same time, so the camp sat just the way we left it." He scratched his beard again. "I wonder how much time passed before they found it."

  "What did he do to you?" he asked. Hearing the tone in Christopher's voice, Daylin looked long and hard at his son.

  "My friends were lab animals for him. You saw what he did to Smitty. Everyone else was treated the same way. Some didn't last very long, others were . . . ." He closed his eyes, hanging his head. "I can still hear the screams." He looked back at Christopher, his eyes haunted. "They tried to resist, but he's too strong."