CHAPTER SIX
Christopher woke with a start. He listened intently to try to discern what it was that had jolted him from sleep.
He sat up, looking around the dark room, listening, straining his senses as the sound came again.
It was a high pitched sound, like a bird tweeting, but not like any bird he had ever heard. He got out of bed and stretched, careful not to disturb his uncle in the next bed. He went to the window and looked out, looking for any sort of bird, but realizing the sound didn't come from outside. It was still dark, no telling what the time really was. No birds. Nothing he could see to have made that sound.
He was about to go back to bed, when he heard it again. It wasn't a bird tweet at all, it sounded like someone laughing. Curious, he crept to the archway.
Sticking his head outside the room, he cocked an ear. The sound came again, a little louder this time. He crept down the corridor, sticking to one wall, as the sounds became louder. Definitely laughter. A high-pitched hysterical laugh. Christopher stopped, listening, wondering whether he should just go back to his room and forget the whole thing when he heard singing. He couldn't make out words, but he could recognize the melody of a shanty.
He came to another corridor, which branched from the one he was in. The voice was coming from down this way. Christopher followed the sound. Every so often the singing would be interrupted by the giggling. Another voice, this one low and grumbling sounded down the dimly lit hallway. The giggling stopped to be replaced by the shanty, quieter this time.
Christopher stopped in front of an archway which led into another room. He peeked around the edge to see two men, one curled in the corner of the room, the other lying on one of the beds, hands behind his head. From the feeble light coming in from the window, he could barely make out any details. The shanty came from the figure in the corner. Christopher still couldn't make out any of the words, the man was slurring and mumbling most of them. Other "guests" of Sen and Alice? He was about to leave when the figure on the bed suddenly sat up and looked in his direction.
"Who's there?" He asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy.
Christopher, taking a deep breath, stepped into the room, his hands held in front of him.
"Sorry, I heard the singing." The figure stood up, but didn't move from beside the bed. As he did so, the light in the room gradually brightened. Christopher looked around for lamps, but the illumination seemed to come from the walls themselves. He was able to take in more of the figure before him.
The man was tall, and very gaunt. A mop of long, dirty hair covered his head which mirrored the full beard that covered the lower half of the man's face. His clothing looked to be an old jumpsuit, tattered and torn in places. He swayed slightly as he glanced over at his companion, then stared at Christopher, his eyes hard.
"Don't worry about Smitty. His mind is gone, thanks to the monster that lives here, if you call that living." He gave Christopher another long look. "How did he get you?"
Christopher gulped.
"What did he do to your friend?"
The man wrung his hands, which trembled as he spoke.
"You don't want to know. Trust me."
The man slumped in the corner stopped humming. He pulled himself up, the movements looking off. Christopher gasped as he saw the man's knee and elbow joints were bending the opposite way.
"Pulled me apart, he did." The man said, his eyes wide and crazed. Smitty's arms bent to bring the twisted hands to his mouth as hysterical laughter dribbled from his lips. "Bit by bit. Had to see how we worked, he did. I watched the whole thing." His eyes looked away and his face twisted into a grimace with the memory. "But he didn't know how to put me back together again, now did he?" He collapsed on his bed, the laughter increasing, then fading away. Christopher stood in horrified silence as the sound of humming filled the room again. He turned to the other man.
"I'm sorry."
The man shook his head.
"I am too. Smitty is my friend. We're the last two of the group of us that were captured." He swept his arm to indicate Smitty, who had fallen asleep. "I've been waiting for my turn to be examined." The implications hung heavy in the room.
Tremain appeared by Christopher's side, making Christopher jump.
"Uncle, you startled me!" he said. Tremain nodded, placing a hand on Christopher's shoulder.
"Sorry, I was half-awake when you got up and left the room. I followed you. I see you've made some new friends." The bearded man sat heavily on the bed, his eyes on Tremain.
"Tremain . . ." he croaked out.
Tremain stared to speak, then his eyes grew wide as recognition filled his expression. Christopher looked from one to the other, his brows knit.
"Uncle, you know him?"
Tremain nodded, then shook his head and looked to his nephew, his eyes full of concern.
"So do you, Christopher, although you haven't seen him in many years." He took a moment, then gestured to the man on the bed. "Say hello to your father."
My father?
Christopher looked at the bearded man, his mind racing. He had been told his father had died when he was little. He started piecing together what he knew with what the man had said about their group being captured.
The bearded man stared at Christopher with a renewed intensity.
"Chris?" he whispered. He looked at Tremain. "This can't be him, Chris is only a little guy . . . he's only six!"
Tremain pulled a chair over and sat in front of the man.
"Daylin, you've been gone a long time. You and your entire party disappeared. We thought you were all dead."
Daylin, his eyes wild, looked to Christopher again.
"How old are you now?" he managed to croak out.
"I'm fifteen." Christopher answered, still stunned by this revelation. His dad was alive!
Daylin put his face in his hands, his shoulders shuddering. Christopher realized his father was crying. He sat down on the bed next to him, putting his arm around the man's bony shoulders.
"It'll be okay. Just wait until mom finds out."
"Davie . . ." Daylin said wistfully. He wiped his face with his sleeve, composing himself. "I didn't realize so much time had passed. I've missed so much."
Tremain stood, a grave look on his face.
"While I'm loathe to interrupt this reunion, I've only just realized something. Our host has a gift of creating quite realistic constructs. Christopher, this may all just be something Sen created to analyze our reactions. A test of sorts."
Christopher looked up, his face shocked.
"How could you say that, Uncle? My dad is here, warm, breathing and alive!"
Tremain cocked his head, pain evident in his eyes.
"We thought the same thing about Alice, remember?"
Christopher thought a moment, then nodded, his eyes wet. He nodded and took a shuddering breath as he pulled himself together.
"You're right." He stood.
Daylin, his eyes wide and fearful, looked at both of them in turn.
"I'm real! I'm real! Don't leave me here!" He fell to his knees on the floor, pleading with them. "Please! I've been so strong. I can't do this anymore." He paused, then looked at them, his eyes narrowed. "Unless you're the constructs, come here to torture me. To break me like he broke Smitty." Daylin stood and brushed himself off. He held his chin up and stared at them, trembling, a coldness in his eyes. "I'm not breaking."
"If you're real, why haven't you tried to escape?" Christopher asked.
"If you hadn't noticed, we're on a mountain. I'd kill myself trying to climb down. Besides," he said, slumping back onto the bed, "I can't leave this room. There's no door, but every time I've tried, something stops me." He gave a sniff and wiped his arm across his face again. "Smitty and I are prisoners."
"We'll talk again in the morning." Tremain said, pulling Christopher to the doorway with him. "We will sort this out, I promise."
They returned to their own room, Christopher's head was swimming.
<
br /> "Uncle, is that really my dad?"
Tremain sat on his bed, shaking his head.
"I truly don't know for sure, Christopher. For your sake and my sister's, I hope he really is Daylin and not one of Sen's constructs." He lay back down and rubbed his face. "I'm still in the dark. I need to understand what is really going on here. I can't do that without confronting Sen again."
Christopher lay back onto his own bed and stared once more at the ceiling. With the dawn's light filling the room, he fell back into a troubled sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The smell of coffee, eggs and bacon roused Christopher from his slumber. He rolled over, stretching and rubbing his eyes. He heard a woman's voice as he sat up.
"Our sleepy-head has decided to wake up." Alice said as she raised a fine china cup to her lips. Christopher walked to a table filled with all sorts of breakfast foods. Tremain was already deep into a full plate, his mouth full. He raised a fork to Christopher in greeting. Christopher smoothed out his hair and poured himself a cup of coffee. The first sip practically evaporated on his tongue. He took another, longer sip. As the caffeine worked its magic, he started filling a plate.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked Alice.
She set her cup down, nodding.
"Ask away."
"Is that really my dad in the other room with the horribly twisted man, or is he another construct? Like you?" he added, looking away from her. She nodded her head, understanding.
"It's okay, Christopher. There is no shame in asking." She cleared her throat. "There have been other constructs besides myself but I'm the only one in residence here. So," She took another sip of coffee. "I can tell you no, that man is not a construct. Although, it's a coincidence that you find yourself here with your father."
Christopher sagged in relief as Tremain set his fork down with a satisfied sigh.
"Is it, though?" He asked, wiping his mouth. "A coincidence?" He shook his head. "I have a suspicion Sen doesn't deal in coincidences." He set his napkin down and emptied his coffee cup. "Finish your breakfast, Christopher. Then I think we need to have another chat with our host."
A few minutes later, they were escorted back into the sitting room. This time Sen didn't hide himself under a shroud. He was standing at the window, as though looking out over the valley far below.
To all intents and purposes, the pose was quite . . . human. The hands were clasped behind his back, his “face” looked out, glinting in the morning sun. He seemed to be contemplating the universe spread out before him. The figure turned and took note of their arrival.
"You have met my other guests." Sen's matter-of-fact, baritone voice filled the room.
"You've tortured them." Christopher spoke the words before he could stop himself. Sen's oval head swiveled to Christopher.
"It is no different from what your young do. You pull the wings off flying insects or the legs off grasshoppers without a thought to the pain and suffering you cause."
"There you go again, comparing humans to insects." Tremain stepped in, "and if I am not mistaken, we are all old enough to know better than to torture another sentient being." His words dripped with contempt.
"To one like me, you are nothing more than insects."
"Then why these trappings of humanity?" Tremain waved a hand to indicate the room. "The furniture is perfect for our forms, the food is suited to our biology. You've even taken a humanoid appearance. I can't imagine your species was so like ours. Why, if we are such insects, do you mimic us?"
The silence hung in the room. Christopher shifted his weight from foot to foot, impatient to get back to his father. Tremain's gaze never left the smooth oval head of Sen's mechanical body. The body eventually swiveled to face the window again.
"It has been so long and my people no longer exist. I choose to show you an appearance you will find familiar."
Tremain didn't hesitate.
"Yet you also choose to assert your obvious superiority. If I didn't know better," Tremain said, settling himself into a plush couch seat, "I'd say you were quite insecure." At that Sen turned back to face Tremain.
"Insecure? I am the superior being. With nothing but a thought, I could separate your atoms in moments."
"I have no doubt you could. But you haven't. And you won't." Sen's posture shifted back. He was surprised.
"You think you know something."
Tremain waved his hand in dismissal.
"You can probe my mind without my ever knowing. You already know what I will say before I say it, don't you?"
Christopher, not sure what his uncle was up to, sat down cautiously. His eyes never left the metal framework of Sen's body.
"You astound me." Sen's voice boomed. "You should be begging me to let you live, yet you choose to be confrontational." The figure paused, the hand swiveling in an absent-minded way. "I can sense your anger and you are right to feel helpless." The oval head cocked. "You also feel concern . . . for Alice . . . and me?"
Christopher stayed silent.
"Of course I do." Tremain stared at the featureless face. His eyes blazed with intensity. "I don't quite understand everything, but I, well, we, felt your loneliness. If we are supposed to help you make a decision about my people, I need to know more about you and yours. Whatever that decision turns out to be, I prefer to fully know why."
Sen held his hands behind his back and paced across the room. To Christopher, he looked like a person deep in thought. Sen stopped and faced Tremain once again.
"There is a way for you to understand fully, but I am not sure your fragile mind can take it."
"Humanity is much stronger and more resilient than you give us credit for. What did you have in mind?"
"In mind." A low chuckle. "I seem to be learning your humor." A glow began to appear around Sen's head. "I will help you to understand." He reached a silver hand out and the glow traveled from his head down the arm to the hand, where it stopped and accumulated, pulsing and shining around the silver fingers.
Christopher stared at the glow, not understanding. Tremain sat up, the intensity in his gaze never wavering, curled his fingers and beckoned to Sen.
"Bring it on."
The glow shot out from Sen's outstretched fingers, slamming into Tremain's temples.
Tremain's eyes shot open and his back stiffened as the glow encompassed his head. As the light subsided, Tremain let out a loud gasp and slumped back into the couch, unconscious, his eyes open and staring. Christopher looked from his uncle to Sen, who appeared frozen in place. He felt an arm wrap around his.
Alice.
Her head was tilted to the side and she kept glancing over at Sen.
"That's odd. I can't feel him."
Christopher looked back to his uncle and noticed the light surrounding the two figures had faded.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"Yes, I think I am. It just feels different. I feel cut off." She shook her head, her curls bouncing. "Come with me. I have a feeling they will be occupied for a while."
Christopher let himself be led down an unfamiliar corridor, which opened up to a courtyard. A cobblestoned square framed a large tree and garden area set in the center of the outside space. The walls of the spire they’d exited reached high up into the sky around them. Benches were interspersed around the garden. A fountain in one corner spewed water upwards, which cascaded down a series of stones, into a pond. The sound was peaceful to Christopher, who sat on one of the benches. The heat from the cobblestones radiated up through his sneakers. It was nice. Alice took a seat next to him. Christopher could feel her gaze on him as he stared at the garden, lost in his own thoughts.
"Do you wish me to leave?" She asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Christopher shook his head.
"No, you can stay. I'm just thinking."
"About what? Your father?"
Christopher shifted his eyes from the tree to her and back.
"That and other things."
Alice
put her arm around Christopher's shoulders and pulled him close. Something his mother would do, Christopher thought as he let himself be drawn in. He liked it. She smelled of exotic perfumes. He wondered if that was her doing or if she was programmed that way.
"You don't quite trust me." She said. It wasn't a question.
"I don't." Christopher pulled away from her and looked into her face. Her eyes were clear and questioning. "I don't understand how you can be a creation, yet you seem so human."
Alice's face broke into a huge grin.
"I think I understand." She folded her hands in her lap. "You wonder if I'm acting on my own or if I'm following some sort of command." At Christopher's tentative nod, she looked away and seemed to gaze into infinity. "I am self-aware, you know. I think for myself, or at least I believe I do. I do not follow blindly." She seemed at a loss for words. "I don't know how to convince you." She looked at Christopher with tears in her eyes. "I do care for you and your uncle. Our tea-times together have been quite pleasant." She looked away once more. "I don't want humanity to disappear. I want my life to continue." She stood and paced, her hands waving in front of her as she spoke.
"Sen wanted to do away with the "human problem", as he put it, straight away. I convinced him to give them a chance to sway his opinion." She sat back on the bench, her hands finding Christopher's, squeezing hard.
"You chose my uncle." Christopher said.
Alice nodded.
"Out of all the beings I'd encountered, only your uncle seemed to see beyond his existence. His curiosity seems boundless."
Christopher laughed at that. She described his uncle completely.
"That's for sure." He said. "Uncle Tremain is nothing if not curious." He nodded his head back towards the sitting room. "What's happening in there?"
Alice glanced back, her curls bobbing as her head moved.
"I believe Sen and Tremain have . . . merged." Her eyes filled with concern, her brows knitting together. "I can't feel anything from Sen. For as long as I can remember that's never happened." She looked back to Christopher. "We will both have to wait it out."
Christopher stood.
The Wrath of the Revenant Page 4
