Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1) (30 page)

Okay, this was getting old.
  Finding slight focus, I saw the shrink sitting in the corner, engrossed in paperwork.

How sad that must be. 

A life of filling out assessments for patients you do not really know.  The guys think they get inside your head when all they hear is what you tell them.  Feelings are hard enough to deal with, let alone describe accurately to someone.  How someone could even think one could rationalize what I was experiencing was absurd to me.  I knew I needed to escape soon before they found out that I was blacking out.

So far he seemed unaware that I was awake.  My head lowered down with the effort not to wince or exhale from the weakening muscles still protesting.  Silence pervaded the room except for the occasional slight sigh coming from him until I realized that was his breathing.  He had stopped writing now and sat there reading.  A page turning confirmed it.  My imagination ran amuck thinking about what was on that page.  I decided to get it over with and sat up after laying there for a few more minutes trying to collect my thoughts.  He simply sat there reading for a few more minutes before he looked up.

“Hey, Doc.”

There was no reply, just a simple frown. 

Moments passed.

“You know Dieter, after yesterday, you are very fortunate to be talking to me today.  I should be closing your case as we speak.”  He looked at me for several seconds before I saw him click his pen almost as if he was disappointed.  Some smell in the room suddenly caught my nose, but I could not pin point it.  Trying not to be too obvious, my attention continued to classify the smell
. 
The odor was certainly more interesting than his insulting words.  Might as well tell me I should be dead so he does not have to deal with me. 

The smell increased in intensity and there was no hiding it.  I raised my nose up and inhaled deeply. 

It smelled like fear.

XXII

Dreams

“Can I stop there?”  I asked. 

Hearing nothing but my own voice for about an hour was getting tiring, especially while trying to recall the details of my dreams.  My throat was sore from speaking.  Doctor Price sat in the corner scribbling on a yellow pad.  I did not think it was possible to write so fast, let alone legibly.  His work reminded me of a stockbroker whose firm just told him to sell.  I saw that in a movie once, it seemed like a sad life.

I had just explained to him the dream several times.  The level of detail had to be limited because it was difficult to recall exact facts
.
  The logic of having the same dream in context but having the details change slightly was frustrating.  My "lack of cooperation" in previous sessions still frustrated him.  It took me several days to come up with what I could tell him. 

My dreams were less weird to me than the stories he and Eryn told me.  I was too tired to read any files.  It was easier to listen to them recount.  My attempt to recall my dreams made me wonder if they somehow manifested physically on my body.  He had to be thinking the same thing.  If so, how powerful was my mind?

He stood shaking his head at times.  Sometimes he nodded as he wrote.  I swore I saw dollar signs floating above his head.  I knew what he was thinking. 

My new room was very much the same but no longer in the Intensive Care Unit.  Muted hospital colors with a little personal touch adorned the room.  I never cared much for hospitals.  My recent experience made it even worse.  I did not like being someone’s experiment.  The doctor seemed too “matter of fact.”  I doubted he cared about me; he just wanted information that might up his status in the medical community.  At times his comments suggested he thought I might be involved in a cult.  This offended me.

“Yes Dieter, that’s good for now.  I am quite amazed at your memory of these events.  You’re not ad-libbing any of this, are you?”  He looked me over for any signs of lying.  The way my mother always used to do.  I decided to test the theory with him and fudged my numbers a bit, but somehow I do not think that mattered.  He seemed bored and obsessed at the same time.  That was quite the dichotomy to me…like he wanted to be doing or saying something else.

“If anything, I am leaving parts out.  Up to this point in the story, I had killed at least five dozen flyers and twice that in bipedal daemons!”  I replied, feeling a bit irritable.  It has only been forty-eight hours since recovering from the coma and neither my mother nor Jason had been there to see me yet.  It was odd for them to drill me so hard after only being awake for such a little amount of time.  My happiness was diminished knowing Jason was out there somewhere without me.  Feeling imprisoned was becoming my daily norm.  I knew that even if I wanted to leave, my strength was not anywhere near the levels needed and in truth the desire to just lie there was overpowering.

"Why do you say daemon and not the word demon?" he asked.

"I do not really know, Doc.  It just feels right to call them daemons.  It is almost like they are so minor they don't really count or are not the real thing."

The doctor looked at me; his face softened into a smile.  He really did seem like a nice man and that he cared to some degree, but I felt like a lab rat… a freak.  I was having a hard time fathoming what the information in these dreams meant, especially dreams from my comatose years.  The detail was astonishing.  Why was I able to do this?  It almost seemed like they were recalled events from my past.  That was impossible, but the dream sequences felt so much like memories.

The doctor stayed in his chair.  He was still scribbling some notes when the door opened.  I felt the weariness lift from me a bit as Eryn walked in.  As cheesy as it may sound, the room somehow seemed to light up when she entered.  Granted she was wearing her traditional hospital white, which I know from a scientific point of view does actually brighten a room.  There was something about her...almost a purity of sorts.  I chuckled, thinking about the idea of an outrageously attractive woman still being a virgin and there was no way she was even thirty.  Virtue aside, it was just not possible.

She approached my bed and began to poke and prod the usual places for my vitals.  Silence hung in the room save the mad scribbling from the doctor.  Her scent created a desire with in me that I found intriguing.  It was intoxicating.  I closed my eyes while she worked, imagining fields of flowers and her running through them in a spring dress.  The sun was shining from behind so I could see her silhouette, moving rhythmically towards me with each stride.  Suddenly I felt a little ashamed and opened my eyes.  If I kept it up, there was bound to be a very manly response to these images.  I shook my head to clear the fog.

“Stop moving, Dieter, I’m trying to take some blood,” she said, trying not to yell at me.  I suddenly felt a pinch in my right arm and relaxed a bit.  Her scent was dancing on my mind in a more lewd fashion.  Sensations I could only attribute to my body being more mature sent tingles all over me.

“All done, keep that cotton on for a little while.  I know you hate bandages after last night.”  When I awoke that morning, the wraps were all on the floor.  She put a label on the vial and dropped it into her pocket all the while looking at me with her big brown eyes.  I could not help but experience boyhood crush symptoms when looking at her.  A crooked, mischievous grin danced up the corner of my mouth.  She obviously noticed it and smiled back.  Shyly my head looked down erasing my smile.  She turned to the shrink still sitting there.

“That’s all for today doctor, he needs to sleep.  Oh, by the way, Dieter, your mother will be here tomorrow.”  I did not have the energy to correct her again and realized there was slight enjoyment from hearing her say my full name.  I had never liked the sound of my name before, yet hearing it roll off her lips was comforting.  She smiled at me warmly.  Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper.  “
Did I thank you for sharing the other day?”

It was so amazing to sit and just talk to her the day before.  Never had anyone shown so much genuine interest in me before.  None of the previous girls had and certainly the girl at the lake had not.  Thoughts about the changes my body experienced raced around and realization within that not only had many aspects about me changed inside but outside.  This was a woman, not a young girl.  She was a real lady and the level of attention and the depths of the conversations were different.  As the comparison faded, I was still thinking about my talk with her and shook my head no.  A wink flew my direction and she turned to walk away.  She redefined grace and beauty when she moved.  I could not take my eyes off her.  A small sadness came over me the first time.  I did not know why or what it was.

SIGH!

This woman, this creature of beauty, had my attention every time she came near me and yet again, I noticed my attention drifted with her presence.  I sat upright in bed.  She left without another word.  Doctor Price rose to his feet and stretched.  He gathered his tablets and books into a satchel and closed the flap.  He too walked out of the room without another sound.  Funny, I had imagined some sort of exciting conversation about learning more tomorrow; yet he simply left.  It was sort of a relief.  Sleep did sound good right now.

Mom!
  I almost did not want to see her because I knew she would probably lecture me about something from six years ago.  On some level, there would be an argument.  The time just did not feel right.  I would not respond to her attacks.  It was strange that my own mother would wait days to come see me.  If I had a child in the hospital, nothing would keep me from going to them when they awoke from a six-year coma or anything of the sort.  I could understand if they were out of town and perhaps that is what it was.  It still puzzled me and my thoughts wandered back to the dreams.  They were easier to understand than my parents were.

I rolled over and my mind kept replaying scenes described earlier.  The swords felt at home in my hands as if they belonged there.  There was also something familiar about them as though they were a part of me somehow…an extension.  I had heard stories from Jason growing up that people could get so good fighting with weapons that they became a part of them.  It seemed far-fetched to me.  How could anything not actually flesh become part of something else unless there was some sort of mojo involved?

My mind was definitely not at rest.  I had left part of the story I was telling the doctor out on purpose.  It seemed a little irrelevant to the actual dream itself.  Although the fact that I was at
least
seven foot something in my dream and awesomely chiseled with a warrior’s body was interesting to say the least.  I almost seemed barbaric in many ways, were it not for the clean-shaven head.  My frame in real life was not even five and a half feet being heavy to some degree before the accident, maybe thirty pounds or so, made the idea of being a towering muscle man laughable.  My hand ran down my chest as I lay there; it was very lean from the atrophy.  My ribs were pushing against my skin with not much to hold them there. 

Physical therapy was going to suck.

Something sparked my memory from the dreams.  Markings…lots of them were all over my body.  There was no clue if they were scars or tattoos, but the ones on my arms were clearly visible.  They moved on their own accord.  Kind of like the symbols I saw in the campfire in my dream just for brief moments, rising up with the smoke. 

The fire seemed so real.  That old wizard character seen near the fire seemed to be doing things that appeared to be magic.  Magic!  I laughed and felt sore from doing so.  As a kid, I had some big dreams, but none of them was ever this real, let alone being able to remember them this well.  As my thoughts pondered that idea, a scent was now in the room.  The smell seemed to be stronger when I rubbed my eyes.  It was coming from me, copper and pungent, blended together.  My arms were radiating heat.

That smell, it was coming from them.  I do not know why but I touched my tongue to my skin.  Blood.  The smell was not human; it had to be from the daemons in my dreams.  It smelled evil, as though darkness itself was rising to my nostrils.  The same smell I remember experiencing when I woke up.  I felt saturated by it.

My arms seemed to be sweating so I tried to wipe them off with my hands.  The fluid on my arm was too thick to be sweat.  It felt as if I was just smearing it in.  The substance spread on my arms and coated them like oil.  It was slippery and hard to wipe off.  My eyes fell to my hands to see what was there.  Panic rose inside me for a moment as dark red fluid coated them.  Partially coagulated, it stuck to my fingers just like blood; yet too dark and thick to be human, let alone mine.  My pulse was pounding in my throat.  The smell of it was exhilarating.  I was not feeling panic, but adrenaline and blood lust.  A deep breath did not help as it soaked into my senses.  It was going to be a good hunt tonight. 

I froze.  Did I just think that?
 

I found myself falling into blackness.

There was no ground, no sound, no anything really, just this void of all color or wind.  The air was still.  I thought that falling would have created some sort of wind.  The strange part was now it was falling, but I did not feel that sickening pull of gravity as your stomach comes out your mouth.  The surreal aspect was simply there. 

My eyes could not focus on anything except the bed.  Objects were out there.  I could feel them.  The sheets were moving still.  I held onto the frame with was made of a cast iron or something dark but still metal and held on for dear life.  Knowing it was a dream did not make it any easier for the senses to perceive.  My eyes started to adjust to the lack of light when it suddenly appeared above.

I shielded my eyes with one hand and daringly had let to go from the metal bed frame.  The intensity of the light increased.  Suddenly the wind was tearing at my ears with gale force intensity.  My eyes began to dry out as it was hitting them with intensity like a burst from an air horn.  I was hoping tears would form, but they did not, in fact quite the opposite.  The wind was hitting me so hard now my eyelids were having a very hard time maintaining the ability to blink and the desire to close them hit me harder and harder.  My hand return to the safety of the rail I was holding onto.  The bed spun and increased in speed; centrifugal forces started to push me towards the railing which I held.  

Intense heat blasted down on me.  Through the very small slits I allowed my eyes to open, the sky above me had turned into a vortex that was pushing me away from it.  The wind whipped past me making it hard to hold on, while the bed continued to fall.  Weightlessness tried to take hold and uproot me.  Hoping that this would end, I issued a cry (more like a scream) and begged for it to stop.  Nausea threatened my breakfast.  I was about to get sick when the bed landed hard on stone.  My eyes flew open as sparks lit up from the metal grinding on the surface as it skidded to a halt.

The sound faded and the swirling above me slowed down like a movie that was losing speed but still playing.  Time dilation affected the sparks around me.  Silence took the area, wherever here was.  The sound of my own breathing, labored and heavy, became the only sound.  It echoed off something because it sounded like a stone room. 

I could not see clearly.  No walls, no ceiling, no doors, or windows were in view.  So whatever was out there remained unseen.  I glanced around trying to find a measure of logic to what I had seen.  Moments passed.  Nothing appeared.  No changes in my surroundings occurred.  Just like the calm before a storm, an eerie peace washed over me.  The echo stopped as if my ears no longer functioned.  Motion out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.