One (10 page)

“
I fought because of my family. There was no choice for me. I had to play the game to provide for your mother and your sister and for you. My hope was that because of the sacrifices I had to make you and your sister you both would not have to make them yourselves. Adaptation is a powerful skill to have, but you cannot allow it to take you over to where you leave the ones you love behind. I had to learn that and luckily and I did before it was too late. You wondered what Jonathan was thinking. Maybe he was thinking that as long as he had you as a friend that nothing else mattered.”

Something changed that day, my opinion of my father. I had come to understand and forgive him for having such drive that he was not around during Ashley’s and my childhood. I came to look upon his willingness to keep pushing until you reach your dreams as an admirable ability, but in the end like so much else it was just obligation. What would he have become without it?

“
He was wrong and so were you.”

I did not hate him, I was disappointed. There was no reason to stand there any longer. My words hurt him and it was a long time before we sat down and talked about that day and even once we did nothing was solved. I thought there was more time, but is that not what we all think?

Shadows

The walkway was empty again. The warm summer breeze was replaced with a chilling wind. It brought me back, reminded me what I had to do. I wondered if I was losing focus because of fear or something else. The sky seemed to darken a little, I needed to get inside.

I climbed the concrete steps to the school and found the large metal doors locked. I banged against them; it brought nothing but sore fists. While it was possible the door was locked to prevent people from entering after the event it was just as likely that the door was locked before everything had happened. I contemplated breaking a window when I saw the first classroom to the left had its window partially open.

I jumped down onto the grass and pulled myself up and inside the classroom. The floor was ice cold. Finding nothing of interest I continued on into the hallway. I knew the layout of the school from visiting several times while Ashley attended. The bomb shelter would be one floor below where they kept the auto and wood shops.

That familiar sound returned, my footsteps echoing throughout the vacant hallways. I stood at the top of the steps, at the end of the hall there was nothing but darkness below me. I slowly walked down the stairs, there were no sounds, and the only noise was my steps and my breathing.

The basement hallway was much colder than upstairs. At the far end of the hallway was an emergency light, it casted a dim light, barley illuminating the room. A large red steel door sat shut just beneath it. My hands gripped the handle and I pushed with all my strength but it would not move.

I banged my fist against the door and called out begging anyone to hear me. I pressed my ear to the door, there was nothing, another failure, and no one was there. Desperately my mind searched for another place to check, another reason to continue searching, but I did not want to listen to my mind any longer.

Drained of energy my back felt the coldness of the door as I laid against it before slumping down on my backside. Reason was defeated and my will was dying. I brushed my left hand across the handle of the gun, I felt ashamed. I had only been in this world a few hours and already I lost my ability to deal with what was presented to me, to do what I said I would always do, adapt.

My head against knees, there were still questions to answer and if nothing else, I should continue with that search. If there is something here for me to find then it was time to find it even if it meant abandoning my search for all others. However, a new thought invaded my mind. Was it possible that the real problem was with me and that continuing was the wrong choice?

The emergency light flickered then went dark. My eyes strained to find the stairs leading back upstairs. A chilling fear coursed through me. Something was wrong, a feeling, no, a wanting to run came over me. I quickly stood; something else took over causing me to run toward the stairs.

Above me at the stop of the stairs the hallway was much darker than before. I was only in the basement for a few minutes and yet it looked as if the sun had set. My heart raced. Halfway up the stairs the pain in my forehead returned. Like a burning blade cutting through my flesh I fell to one knee just before the top of the steps.

Breathily heavily I put my hand to my head but felt nothing. Fighting to stand my body froze, my eyes locked onto a shadowed figure standing at the top of the stairs. It looked like the shape of a human, but every ounce of my being wanted me to flee from it.

All I wanted was to move but I could not make my body do so. The figure took a step forward the pain in my forehead increased. I opened my mouth to scream out but nothing came. Slowly, like a predator stalking its prey it moved toward me. With each step closer, the pain in my head intensified. My vision blurred distorting the image further and yet strangely it felt more familiar and more terrifying.

It reached out toward me. Hand or claw I could not tell. Finally the proverbial ice that held me in place shattered. First instinct, I reared backwards. The room spun, I lost my balance. My foot tried to land squarely on the step but I fell backwards. My upper back and shoulders slammed against the edge of the steps.

I slide down the steps, my head cracked against the cold hard floor. My body went numb. As I felt myself losing consciousness, the figure stood above me. I could see the figure was tangible, but it was cloaked in shadows, as if an aura of dark smoke surrounded it, containing all my nightmares. It felt like death. It leaned over and once again reached out toward me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, the only place left to escape was into my mind.

Requiem for the Mind

Awakening from a nightmare only to find yourself trapped within another dream can be just as or if not more frightening. When you believe you are safe, returned to your world, a sense of peace covers you like a warm blanket. It is a feeling that what you left behind would remain there and that only what you know is real is before you. Then slowly one by one you discover that what you thought was your world is missing several pieces. Not always critical ones, but just enough to let you know something is terribly wrong. In the end when the truth is apparent and your shell of self-protection is shattered, only then is the true horror revealed.

Darkness and pain was the first thing I felt when I could feel again. But there was something else, soft. It felt familiar and foreign at the same time.

“
Timothy, Timothy Hayden. Can you hear me?”

My eyes shot open, but the image before me was blurry. The shadowed figure was standing over me just as it was before I lost consciousness, but now it had a voice. Deep and concerned, again it sounded familiar. Perhaps the fall had broken my mind and I was hallucinating? That was one of the thoughts racing through my mind. Also, there was still a feeling of fear. Instinctively I began moving backwards when I realized I was lying on a bed.

“
It’s okay Timothy. You don’t need to run you’re safe.”

The tone of the voice sounded like my father’s when he would find me tossing in my sleep, fighting a nightmare. Warm human hands pressed against my shoulders, not specifically to hold me down, but to reassure me, yet again just like my father. He would tell me I was safe and that everyone was there for me.

The shadows faded as my vision cleared. The man was tall, looked to be in his fifties. His grey carefully trimmed beard traveled up the side of his face connecting to his silver hair. He smiled taking notice my look of confusion, my eyes searched his for lies that this was a dream or something worse. He wore a blue suit covered by a white overcoat. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small pen and pointed toward me.

“
You’re in the hospital. I’m a doctor. My name is Earl Stormed. You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Hayden.”

He shined a light into my eyes; if I still believed I would call its glow salvation, but it was not that easy. When you have seen the impossible, the probable is what seems most unlikely, not foreign. So many thoughts and I could not convey any to him.

“
I’m… in a hospital?” I said softly.

“
Yes, the fall knocked you unconscious, but there were no signs of a concussion. Of course we will run a few more tests later, just to be sure. I must say you are pretty lucky, Mr. Hayden.”

Sore back, shoulders and head aside I sat up quickly. The single patient room was small, devoid of any comforting design. My bed sat against a plain white wall facing another plain white wall. Standard hospital bed, white sheets, and one white pillow; but I was not connected to any monitoring devices. Tall ceiling, also white with only one plastic covered light high above me, dressed in a hospital gown, green and white, my head perfectly wrapped with a soft cloth.

“
The fall…” I said.

My words came out slowly. I felt like a coma patient on a television show waking up after years of deep slumber. Disoriented and confused I could remember everything that happened in the school, but I could not say it to him. The pain on my forehead was still there, it was worse than anything else. I squinted my eyes together; the doctor could clearly see it.

“
The nurses cleaned the wound on your forehead. You must have hit it against the edge of the steps. It caused a nasty gash, but you will be fine. If you’re still in pain I can speak to Dr. Leafs about giving your something for that.”

Listening to his words I understood them fully, but they did not register with my mind. His voice was calm and his explanation absolute as if there was nothing strange that occurred. The room still interested me. It was clearly and older building. Chips of paint were breaking away from the corners of the walls and ceiling. Thick glass windows allowed sunlight in, but nothing else. The ventilation system was out of reach even if I stood up on the bed. Cold air blew directly on my face, which answered why I had still felt so cold even though covered with a sheet and blanket.

“
What happened to me?” I asked.

A question asked because I wanted, no, needed to hear the answer. The doctor’s eyes told me that no matter what he said the answer would not bring me any comfort. He reached down to the foot of my bed and pulled a metal clipboard from it. He began flipping through the numerous pages held there. I never liked doctors. They would either withhold information until the last possible minute or try to downplay the truth of your condition.

He wrote something on one of the pages; it was short, no more than a sentence, but seeing that angered me. I never wanted or required emotion from doctors, their job was to diagnose a problem and recommend and/or administer treatment. His look of general concern was unnecessary, while pleased and puzzled to see another human, just the few things I had noticed had unsettled me and I knew it was only going to get worse.

“
You don’t remember what happened to you?” He asked me.

I knew what I was beginning to accept but refused to fully believe, but was that his question? His eyes searched mine trying to pluck the answer from me before I could give it to him. When my mother and I arrived at the critical care unit after my father’s accident the doctor attending looked at me the same way. He asked the most asinine question, one asked every time someone is part of a traumatic event. Are you alright? A verbal answer was not why the question was asked, they want to see your response in your actions, in your eyes, in your soul.

I laid my head back against the pillow; its cool soft surface relaxed me, but only for a moment. I wanted to give the answer to his question that would lead to an answer for mine. I thought back to what had happened, my mind felt cloudy as if trying to recollect a fading dream. For a moment I had forgotten some of what I had seen. Images were of my past, what had happened with Jonathan, Christine and my family not the vacant world I had woke up to earlier that day.

A scent of flowers washed away the images. On the nightstand next to my bed a small crystal vase filled with an assortment of flowers sat with a small card attached. Its bright vibrant colors were such a stark contrast to the plane white room I wondered why I had not noticed them first.

Looking harder that the arrangement, I recognized the logo on the card, it was from the flower shop I worked at as a kid. Only twelve and I had a job bringing the display flowers from the front of the store to the storage area in the back. I learned a lot about flowers from working there and shopped there many times for gifts given to my mother and Christine.

“
They arrived this morning.” The doctor chimed in.

My hand shook as I reached for the card the card hanging from one of the flowers. I knew who the flowers were from, but this only brought more questions. The card smelled of perfume; Christine’s favorite brand. I fumbled to open the envelope, finally opening it I began to read the card.

In time these flowers will wither and die, but my love for you is eternal, love, Christine.