Remko sat up and let the scene before him register in his mind. He was outside, no longer in his holding cell. Tall, golden grass swayed on all sides of him, high enough that from his seated position he couldn’t see over it. The sun was present, but the field was still cool, the ground under Remko’s hands chilled as if a deep winter’s snow had just melted, leaving behind its cold in the depths of the earth.
The sky was blue, white puffy clouds hung here and there, birds sang, and the wind swirled to a perfectly harmonious melody.
Remko wondered why he didn’t feel panicked at waking up in this strange place, but he didn’t. In fact, the opposite of panic softly coursed under his skin. Rest, peace, comfort—feelings he had long forgotten.
He stood and turned in a slow circle to take in the rest of the field, but that was all it was. A gold field that stretched in every direction.
He caught sight of a man walking toward him, the stranger’s steps calm, his hands stretched out on both sides, the grass sweeping through his fingers. He grew closer, close enough for Remko to make out his face clearly. He had kind, deep-blue eyes and a bright smile; there was a look of something familiar on the man’s face. He was familiar altogether, actually, but something was blocking Remko’s recollection of him.
A name slipped through the cracks in his brain. Aaron. But it drifted off as soon as it entered. Was it Aaron? Did Remko know an Aaron? The insides of Remko’s skull felt fuzzy and he searched through the haze for something concrete, but everything felt foreign.
“Hello, Remko,” the man said.
He knew Remko’s name; they must know each other.
“I’m sorry; I can’t—” Remko faltered.
“I know; don’t worry about it,” the man said. “My name is Aaron.”
Again Remko felt a twinge of familiarity that lasted only a couple of seconds before evaporating into nothing. An ache pulsed in the front of his skull.
“Do we know each other?” Remko asked.
Aaron smiled. “Not really.”
Remko felt an ease wash over him. He hadn’t forgotten this man; he’d never known him. “Where am I?” Remko asked.
“My Father’s field,” Aaron said.
“Do I know your Father?”
“Part of you does.”
Remko gave Aaron a puzzled look. “So I have forgotten Him?”
Aaron chuckled and nodded. “Life is a series of remembering and forgetting.”
Remko didn’t understand the man’s words but felt the painful pulse return to his brain. “Maybe if I could see Him, then I would remember. Is He here?”
“Always. He never leaves.”
Remko glanced around the field, but the only two people were him and the strange man before him. “I don’t understand,” Remko said.
“It’s a different kind of sight. Something you have long forgotten.”
“Why are you talking to me in riddles?”
“I’m speaking to you in truth; you only hear riddles because you don’t believe.”
“Don’t believe what?”
“In who you are.”
Remko felt the pulse increase. He rubbed his fingers across his forehead to try and ease the building pressure. A single question filled his mind and Remko couldn’t think of anything else.
Who am I?
A man named Remko, a soldier, a member of the Authority’s society, a servant of that society. He tried to remember what else, struggled to see past the simple things that lay before him. Surely he was more than that? But nothing came. Only those facts were found.
Remko shook his head, annoyed. What else was needed? Why was he letting himself become unraveled at the small words of a man he knew nothing about? And where was this Father of his, and how was he supposed to know Him if He was nowhere to be found?
“I know who I am,” Remko said.
“No, you know who they want you to believe you are. But the truth has been lost to the fog,” Aaron said.
“And you know me better than I do?”
“I know you are afraid, that fear and failure haunt you. I know you long to be free but only see freedom in escaping what you fear instead of surrendering to it.”
Remko felt the soft vibration of knowing buzz at the back of his brain. In the darkest part of his mind. A sense that he might have heard these words before. The emotions that Aaron spoke of slid into his chest. Fear and worry, followed by a deep need to be rid of them. The ache in his forehead increased.
It all felt like madness. To be certain of who he was but lost all at once. The pulse intensified and his entire face felt as if it were on fire. A wild wind whipped across his shoulders and ruffled the ends of his hair. It was both warm and chilled together. The pain in his head didn’t ease, and he shut his eyes, taking deep breaths through the discomfort.
Surrender.
The voice seemed to come from the air itself, tickling at the insides of his ears and causing the pounding pain to spike. Remko cried out in agony and dropped his forehead into his hands. He dug his fingernails into his hairline, hoping a different sense of pain would distract him from the torment raging inside his skull.
Surrender.
Another throb of pain exploded behind his eyes and Remko dropped to his knees. Through the darkness in his mind pictures started to form. Through a dirty lens, muffled and unclear and yanking at emotions he didn’t understand. A beautiful girl with long golden hair, swinging a sweet child in her arms, the child’s hair black as night, both smiling and laughing, their faces fuzzy but their memory enough to bring tears to Remko’s eyes. But he couldn’t place them; his heart knew them but his mind did not. Why couldn’t he see them clearly?
Surrender and see.
“I don’t know how,” Remko whispered to the wind.
A hand lightly touched his shoulder and through the all-encompassing ache, he opened his eyes to see Aaron squatting down beside him.
“You do know; let it go. Remember who you are, who your Father calls you to be. Then you will have no fear; then you will see,” Aaron said.
Remko hung his head and cried out against the pain again. He didn’t understand how what this man was saying could be true: a place without fear, a place where he could see.
A very familiar sense of anger blossomed and he shrugged away from Aaron’s touch. This man was a stranger, the people dancing in his mind were strangers, this Father of his was absent and a stranger. Remko knew who he was; he did see clearly, and he wouldn’t be tricked by this mental game. He clamped his eyes shut and closed out everything but the truth he knew.
For the first time, the throbbing torment eased slightly. Remko let go of the notion that Aaron had spoken of, he disregarded the images, disregarded the whispering wind. He pushed it all from his mind and as he did, the pain began to lessen.
He felt several pairs of hands grab him and his eyes snapped open. He was no longer surrounded by tall grass but rather inside a familiar gray room. Two men dressed in white coats were bracing him down on a single bed as another moved to drive a thin needle into his shoulder. The sight made Remko pull back, but the men restraining him were strong and they held on.
“We need you to calm down, Remko; we are only here to help,” the man with the needle said.
There was a soft pinch on his shoulder and then, almost instantly, a weary feeling flooded his body.
“This will help you sleep,” someone said, but Remko was already fading into darkness.
His mind thought of the field, of the man that he had met there, but hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember the man’s name. In fact, the more darkness that crept into his mind from the drug, the less he could remember about the field. And within seconds he couldn’t remember what he had been thinking about to begin with.
There was more he should be remembering, he thought, something he should be fighting, but he was done with fighting. He tried to remember why he was in this room, tried to remember where he had come from, but all that came was who he was now. A soldie
r, in the Authority Army, his purpose to serve. Nothing else mattered or existed.
With a final exhale, Remko let go of the fight and gave in to the only truth he needed.
Remko woke with a start. His eyes snapped open and he found a plain ceiling hovering overhead. The place around him was familiar, which he should have expected, but for some reason he had been wondering whether he might wake up somewhere else. He excused the thought and sat up. Food had been served—soup. He enjoyed soup. He moved from his bed to the small desk and sat down to eat. The soup tasted warm and comforting against his tongue. There was a glass of water, the liquid cool as it slid down his throat.
He was nearly finished when the door behind him opened. An average-size man walked in, his face familiar, and Remko was relieved to see his chief commander.
“President Gold, sir,” Remko said, standing to greet the man.
“Remko, how are you feeling?” Damien asked.
Remko thought the question odd. “Fine, sir.”
“That’s good. I heard you had a hard night. Nightmares, I was told.”
Remko gave the man a curious look. “I don’t think so; I feel fine.”
Damien smiled and nodded toward the chair near Remko. Remko moved and pulled the chair around for Damien to sit.
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, I’m going to ask you some questions, and I need you to be honest with me.”
Again, an odd question. Remko would never lie to his chief commander. He nodded.
“Does the name Carrington Hale mean anything to you?” Damien asked.
“No, sir.”
“What about the name Aaron?”
Remko shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Are you sure? Think very carefully.”
Remko did, searching the back of his mind. Maybe he was supposed to know them, but he didn’t. “I don’t know anybody by those names.”
Damien paused for a long second, his eyes working over Remko’s face. Then a smile broke across his lips and he stood. “Sounds like you may be ready. Let’s test your progress, shall we?”
29
Remko was led through a maze of white hallways and into a larger room devoid of furniture. He was asked to stand in the center of the room and wait. Damien walked to the opposite side of the room where another door was located and knocked on it. Remko glanced around the space to see that several men, clad all in black, stood in groups in each corner. They were armed, standing guard and watching. He assumed they must be here because Damien was present. It was crucial for the future of their society that he be kept unharmed.
After a moment, the door Damien had knocked on opened and another guard walked through, carrying an infant. The child in the man’s arms was sucking on the blanket she was wrapped in, her eyes moving about the room in wonder. She was so small; thick black hair covered her tiny head and framed her fair face.
They walked over to Remko and Remko noticed the apprehension on the guard’s face. He glanced at Remko and seemed to wait for him to have some sort of reaction, but Remko couldn’t understand why. He was just a man holding a child.
Remko could feel tension filling the room. The rest of the guards shifted, poised to move if necessary, their eyes trained on Remko and the tiny baby. Remko thought the scene strange and he looked to Damien for some sort of clarity. Damien’s face was the only one that remained calm, and at the sight of his comfort, Remko eased.
“Remko, I would like to introduce you to Elise,” Damien said, motioning to the small girl.
Remko wasn’t sure what the purpose of any of this was, but he smiled and hid his confusion.
“Would you like to hold her?” Damien asked.
Remko was taken aback and he knew it showed on his face. The baby whined a bit in Damien’s arms and Remko shook his head.
“I’m fine,” Remko said.
“No, here, I insist,” Damien said, handing Elise over.
Worry rushed through Remko, but he extended his arms to hold the child that was being shoved at him. She complained a bit as she was transferred, and Remko nervously tried to settle her in his arms. She stopped fussing and looked at Remko with large blue eyes. They were beautiful, much like the child herself, full of innocence and something else that Remko couldn’t place. She looked at Remko with wonder, reaching up and grabbing the ends of his hair with her tiny hand, and he felt a smile sneak across his face.
“She is beautiful,” Remko said, glancing up at the guard. “Is she yours?”
Several of the other guards in one corner whispered to each other and Remko thought maybe he had said the wrong thing. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He felt uncomfortable. She was just a baby, and yet he had nearly let himself be taken with her.
He handed her back to the guard and forced himself not to ask what this was all about. He’d thought Damien had mentioned he would be tested, but this surely couldn’t be what he was referring to.
Damien took the child and she fussed as he handed her back to Jesse.
“Excellent,” Damien said. “I was about to grab some lunch; would you like to join me?”
Remko was confused but worked to hide it. He knew that the chief commander only made decisions that were for the greater good, so any confusion must be unnecessary. He nodded toward Damien and gave Elise a final glance before turning to leave.
“You did very well today, very well indeed,” Damien said. Though Remko couldn’t imagine what Damien was referring to, he felt a sense of pride and was thankful for the recognition.
They were nearly to the door when the baby started to cry behind them. The sound was soft at first, and Remko could hear the guard trying to calm her, but it grew in volume, and soon the child was screaming. Damien paused to motion to a group of soldiers in the corner to assist with the child as the noise bounced off the walls around them.
Something itched inside Remko’s brain as the child’s cries tore at his heart. At first he felt ashamed that he wanted the noise to cease. Babies cried; that was just part of their growing process, but something about hearing this particular baby cry, something about the aching in her tiny voice caused Remko to pause.
Damien walked out the door, but Remko stood, his hands on the doorframe, his feet stuck to the ground. Why was it that he felt he couldn’t leave the poor child? Why did all of his cells feel as if their only purpose should be to protect that baby? Damien turned around and looked at Remko.
“Remko, are you coming?” he asked.
A war broke out in Remko’s mind. One part needed to follow his commander; the other needed to save that baby. Suddenly a heavy pulse exploded against his skull. He cried out and grabbed the front of his head as pain pounded like a hammer on his brain. His mind flashed with images—a beautiful woman carrying the baby in her arms, the baby playing with Remko’s hair and rubbing her small hands across his forehead and nose. The woman dancing in circles with the girl tucked safely in her arms, the woman looking up at Remko, a smile lighting her face.
“Remko, what is wrong?” Damien asked, but Remko could hardly hear him through the new noises filling his head. Laughter, sweet and full, a woman’s voice telling him she was pregnant, that she loved him, asking him to run away with her, to leave this place. Memory after memory burst through the thick black wall that his mind had built, and with a final pulse of images, Remko broke free from the illusion.
“Elise,” he whispered. Without another word or thought, he spun around and rushed for the child. The whole room moved at once. Guards from every corner ran to catch Remko before he could reach the baby. The man holding Elise moved away, back through the opposite door, the baby wailing in his arms.
Anger ravaged Remko’s body and he fought against those trying to hold him. He screamed, letting his fists fly toward the enemy. He connected with the guard closest to him, sending him stumbling backward, but another guard was already closing in. Remko swung again and missed.
“Do not let him get free!” Damien yelled as the guards surrounded Remko.
>
He was completely outnumbered, and he knew there was no way he was getting through to go after Elise, but that didn’t stop him from fighting.
He glanced around the room and came to a halt as his eyes fell on a hooded boy in the corner. He recognized him and something in him knew the boy would help, but the guards overwhelmed him and quickly gained control of his body.
The archer. A friend and ally.
“Help!” Remko yelled at the hooded boy. “Please—Elise!” But the archer stood still in the corner, his face emotionless.
Confusion racked Remko’s mind. Jesse. My friend. What is he doing here? Why won’t he help?
The guards contained him and dragged him back down the maze of hallways into another small room. He recognized it from somewhere, a single medical chair sitting in the center. He screamed and fought, images of Elise haunting every movement.
Damien went with them. “Hold him down,” he said.
There was a doctor in the room who looked confused to see Remko again and Damien shouted at him. “Prepare another injection dose!”
The doctor still looked bewildered and Damien had no patience. “Now!”
The doctor stumbled to comply as Remko was taken to the ground. The guards didn’t even try to get him in the chair; they simply pushed him to the floor and secured him as another painful injection was driven into his lower back.
Afterward, they pulled him up and escorted him back to his holding cell. Tears moistened his cheeks. His anger still flowed like blood, fast and steady through his veins.
They threw him into his cell and yanked the door shut before Remko could even stumble back to his feet. He rushed to the door and pounded against it with his fists. “Elise, Elise!” Remko’s voice cracked with the emotions crashing through his chest. He continued to hammer on the steel door with all his might, ignoring the pain in his hands, ignoring the blood he was leaving behind.
“Elise!” They had her, his daughter, the baby he had forgotten, the responsibility he had been given and abandoned. They had her and he had no idea what they would do with her.
The Calling Page 28
