Awakenings

by Timothy Manley

  “Where is everyone?” She asked, her voice edged with anger. There were no kids here, but there were men and women, frightened, having lost everything, just like her and her family.

  “Leave or die!” the old man bellowed.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Rae said and threw one of her daggers into the older man’s forehead. A shocked looked was on his face. He began to fall, Rae opened her hand and her throwing stiletto flew back to it. The old man’s body vanished.

  The line of men shook.

  “Brandon, cover our right,” Martin said, whispering just loud enough for them to hear. “I’ve got our left. Erin, be ready, they’re about to charge us.”

  “Somebody better answer us before I punish you,” Rae said and began walking to them.

  “Hold your ground,” the old man shouted from the gate behind the shrine. He held a spear and a sword. Rae threw her stiletto again, he fell, and it flew back, returning to her hand. She now held one in each hand. Fear shook the line of men.

  “They’re in the mountains south of us,” one said. “We made everyone leave that wouldn’t join. Anyone new has to join to use the shrine.”

  A yell was heard, and men rushed from their left and right flank. Martin began working the lever on top of his crossbow, the string was drawn back, and then a snap was heard as it rushed forward. But instead of firing a crossbow bolt out of the wooden box magazine at the stop of the crossbow, lightning strikes erupted from it, hitting one, and arcing to the one on either side, electrocuting them. With each pull of the lever, a lightning bolt fired.

  The attack faltered and then men turned and fled back the way they came.

  “Charge!” the old man yelled.

  His group faltered but one started running. A couple more men began running behind him, the tiny few charging the small group. Martin spun around and began firing. Thunder roared with each bolt fired from his crossbow and the few charging as well as the ones fleeing fell quickly. He didn’t stop, hitting all of them, roasting them before their bodies vanished to return to the shrine.

  Rae locked eyes with the old man. He was fearless. He didn’t fear pain, he didn’t fear her sending him to the shrine again. He just had to wait, and she knew it. He acted as if he was going to try and catch her next throw. She threw both, each for one eye. He screamed as they left his eyes and flew back to her.

  He staggered, blind, trying to turn and return to the shrine. She sprinted to him and was quickly on him, grabbing him by his silver hair. She pulled her recurve and sliced the back of his knee, the blade passed easily, as if it met no resistance at all. He fell, and she drug him as best she could away from the shrine.

  Erin’s hand was there, grabbing and pulling him with ease. He then knelt and tied the old man’s naked body, trussing him up so he couldn’t move.

  One by one the shaken men left the shrine. Rae was standing there, staring at them, at their shame. Inside the small gate area to the shrine they had placed weapons and clothing. They were prepared to recycle as best they could.

  “You touch anything I send you back,” Rae said.

  Brandon went and with his war hammer began breaking down the small cache and scattering it across the dusty ground.

  “Colonel Carson,” one said as he walked out. “You can’t treat him like that,” he directed at the group.

  “Oh, hell yes we can,” Erin said.

  “What happens when the ones you sent away come back to the Shrine?” Rae asked.

  “They don’t,” he said. “We make them leave without using the shrine. Their choice.”

  “That’s no choice,” Brandon said, holding his war hammer as if he was ready to use it.

  “You’d be surprised how many just leave,” the man said.

  “No,” Wendell said. “We aren’t.”

  “Your turn,” Rae said.

  “My turn?”

  “Leave. With what you have.”

  “Or what?” He said, laughing.

  “We drag you to the black shrine,” Wendell said. “That undoes your binding and you can die and stay dead.”

  Fear crossed his face. “I haven’t heard of such a thing,” he said, challenging.

  “Of course not,” Wendell’s voice took an ominous tone. “You never left the nest.”

  ————

  There were actually six oases within twenty miles of Yar’s Camp. With the scraps from the gate that had been makeshift built around the shrine, they built a sign. A sturdy sign. Then they burned onto the sign directions. The map was a circle in the center with lines in directions, and markings showing hazards on the way.

  One by one all the occupiers were forced to leave, each picking their own path based on the sign they put up. This went on well into the night. The torches about the village came to life when dusk encroached, like streetlamps coming on when it was time for the kids to come home.

  Soon the only one left was the old man.

  “I don’t get it,” Martin said. “What did you think was going on?”

  “An attack,” he said. “On us, our home. We are prisoners of war. And you are collaborators.”

  “You’re crazy,” Brandon said. “You don’t know what happened, you’re making shit up.”

  The old man laughed. “Sure, I am,” he coughed. “Sure I am.”

  Erin took his spear and ran him through. It wasn’t long until his body vanished.

  Soon the Colonel appeared, emerging from the shrine.

  “You going to send me off too?” He said, a creepy edge to his voice.

  “No,” Martin said. “Because you’ll just head off and then come back hours later thinking to catch us while we slept.”

  “What do you plan on doing?” He laughed.

  “Are you really a colonel?” Martin asked.

  “I am.” He said.

  “Active?” Martin asked. Rae’s ears picked up. She was keen to hear this too even though she’d been out for so long. Some things you just don’t forget, and you rattle off automatically without thinking. Her MOS was fifty-eight-eleven and she was stationed in Lejeune in Jacksonville North Carolina.

  “Yes,” he said flatly.

  “Unit?”

  “Need to know.”

  “He’s bullshitting,” Rae said. The old man glared at her.

  “So, what if you think I am,” he said. “Nothing you can do about it.”

  “There is plenty we can do,” Wendell smiled at him. In the torch light his smile took on a creepily evil twist. “It’s just out of our way. But we can do a lot of things to you.”

  “Do your worst,” he said, standing his ground.

  “Fine,” Erin said, grabbing the rope and walking to him. “Hands behind your back.”

  Smiling, he stared Erin right in the eyes and said “No.”

  Erin slammed him in the mouth with his gauntlets. The old mans’ teeth crushed and broke and he fell. His expression changed, and terror started climbing into his face. He quickly moved from defiance to a scared old man. Erin went behind him and lashed his arms, so they were almost touching behind his back. The he looped it around his neck and tightened it.

  “Where the fuck you learn that?” Martin asked, whispering to him as he walked past.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “What are we going to do?” Rae asked.

  “Well take him to the undead and toss him in, so he’s made into one of them. He’ll be trapped there until someone cleans it out again.” Wendell smiled at him.

  “Dammit,” Rae said. “We were just there.”

  “There are no undead,” the old man laughed from his broken and bleeding mouth.

  “Here there are,” Martin kneeled down, so he was right next to him. “But you’d know that if you had bothered to leave this area and learn about your location.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “I am a Colonel stationed at the US Army’s Intelligence Center of Excellence.”

  “Where’s the base?” Rae asked.

 
; “Fort Holabird, Maryland.” He breathed heavily. “I’m in charge of training intelligence officers.”

  “I doubt it,” Martin said, standing up.

  “Oh really,” the old man laughed.

  “Yeah,” Martin said. “Eighteen Bravo, Tenth Mountain. I did a training stint at your school.”

  “So?” the old man seemed deflated.

  “You don’t know what I am do you?”

  “I know, but I don’t care,” he lay his head on the sand and just breathed.

  “Well, I know your base isn’t where you say it is.”

  “Hell, if it isn’t.”

  “Nope. It moved back in seventy-one.” Martin smiled. “Do you even know where?”

  The old man didn’t say anything. He just rested there, defeated.

  “What’s Eighteen Bravo?” Wendell asked.

  “Army,” Rae said. “Special forces weapon Sergeant,” she looked to Martin for confirmation. He nodded.

  “You?” he asked.

  “Marines,” Rae said. “Fifty-eight-eleven.”

  “Knew it,” Martin smiled, and fist bumped her.

  “Okay,” the old man said. “I’ll do what you want. Just tell me.”

  “Why’d you do this?” Wendell asked.

  “It’s the aliens, the Reptilians, some call them demons. But, they finally did it … and exiled us. I was building the army needed to take our home back from them.”

  “Oh great,” Rae exhaled. “He’s fucking nuts.”

  “He’s also a stolen valor shitbag,” Martin grumbled.

  CHAPTER 3

  I bolted awake and sat up quickly. I had been having a bad dream. The kids were on a boat and the boat was moving farther away from shore. Raevyn was there, tied to a dock. I had to go rescue the kids or go rescue her. I had to choose.

  The door to the small one room house was still closed. Everything was as I left it last night, except the fire had burned out. The cobwebs of sleep left my mind. I splashed my face with water from the bucket. I opened the door and peered outside. It was early morning and I could see dew still on the grass. Birdsong greeted me as I left and stood away from the building to do my morning business. My belly grumbled a bit but I resisted the urge. I’d wait until I was back home.

  I looked at the road and wondered where it led. In fact, I needed to know where it led.

  “Another day then,” I said and returned to the house. I stood there and looked it over. I had no intention of heading back to the manor. I didn’t know where the road would lead. I was hesitant taking the meager things in this shack. Then I realized, it was mine. All of it was mine, and I was the only person in the entire valley.

  I collected everything, and I do mean everything, the food, the dishes, a full and fresh bucket of water, the wood and coal, the cauldron, all of it. And one by one I put them in the box and converted them to the large cards. I collected the box and left the house.

  I took to the road, the bridge at my back. I strode with purpose, my steps carrying me quickly. I didn’t know where I was going, or why. But, that was the way to go, and it was the important thing to do. The dream still hung in my head as I walked. Rae was more capable than I was at taking care of herself. Hell, even when we first met it was her that came to my rescue to save my ass when I thought I was being the hero. I had never seen her helpless. I sure as hell never saw her as the default helpless female.

  But the kids, the dream, I did feel like they were moving farther away. That drove me, I needed to clear the city quicker than I had been. But, I needed to see where this road led. Something about the road was calling me, it was my priority for the moment.

  I hiked hard and fast. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew the road led there. I did stop for a moment to drink some water. I didn’t want to make a fire, and I didn’t want to cook anything. But I did spy some oyster mushrooms. I took them, smelled them. They smelled like I recalled. Something Raevyn had us do. Since I made everyone learn the medieval arts of thrown weapons, she made us all learn mushrooming.

  Well, it paid off. I very proud of myself for not just finding them but recognizing that they were oyster mushrooms. The one thing I could recognize, that I knew tasted good. I pulled it off the tree, cleaned it a bit and then ate it while I drank water out of the bucket.

  When I had finished all the mushrooms, I returned the bucket of water to card form and continued my hike. The more I walked, the more things took an odd turn. The sky began getting colored tinges to it. The road itself curved upward into the mountains. I soon had to hike up hill, not too steep, but steep enough that I rose in altitude pretty quickly. The density of the trees began to lessen as they became sparser, replaced with rocks, and the mix of deciduous changed to more evergreen. Then the shadows that emerged between tree and rock began to dance.

  I didn’t think I had walked the entire day and attributed it to the shadows from the mountains. I could see them clearly, rocky crags, peaks reaching skyward, arching up, grabbing, as if they were spikes shooting out from the hillside to cut the sky and cause it to bleed.

  That was about the time I began hearing my name whispered. Something told me I was getting closer. I saw it. It was a yurt, just a common yurt. I walked to it, tossed open the flap and entered. The inside was much, much larger than the outside. It was huge, and I could stand up all the way.

  My stomach felt a bit queasy. Not having a bowel movement that morning was coming back to warn me that I had a fuse burning that should be taken care of before it blew. The floor wasn’t stable and rocked a bit. A figure was there, tall, and lanky. He stood shorter than me, probably about six feet, with jet black hair pulled into a topknot style ponytail. His eyes were piercing and blue and there was something light and slightly feminine about him.

  “My Lord Urto,” he said. “I am surprised to see you. I was expecting much sooner.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. Yep, I was feeling sick. I would probably throw up. Hell, I might just spew from both ends.

  “I am Thiago Alcocer. I am your weapons master,” he said. “I am to train you in all forms of combat. But I expected to see you much sooner. Did your guide not direct you to me?”

  “What?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

  “My lord,” the man seemed concerned. “You cannot…”

  He paused as a greasy and very juicy fart escaped from me. It was followed by a fairly rancid belch that I couldn’t control.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Yes, of course m’lord,” he said. “As I was saying, you cannot leave until you have defeated me. I thought you’d come to me first, to be properly trained, before you began the work to clear the pathway for your children. Once you enter you are locked in our training embrace. It may take a long while before you are able to leave.”

  “Toss it,” I said, another fart escaped. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “What weapon?”

  I pulled my sword. I figured why not.

  He seemed surprised. But he went and pulled an identical sword to it.

  I don’t think I was standing too still. I think I was weaving. Or he was moving. Either way I was weaving to adjust to his moving, so I could balance it out, but it wasn’t working.

  “Make your move,” the weapon master said.

  I made a step and swung. He moved, he was beautiful, moving in slow motion, the rainbow lights sparkling as they trailed from his sword edge. I watched his off-hand toss my blade away like he smacked a toy out of toddler’s hand, and his sword make the short arc to slice open my belly. But, nope. I grabbed his sword blade with my left hand and caught the blade. Blood trickled from my hand as I held it tightly. I knew it was blood because it screamed as it oozed out of my hand. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Just screaming, non-stop and it needed to shut up. I could see the little faces on them as each drop fell, their mouths open, fear in their eyes, as they plummeted to the dirt floor. Yep, those sure as hell were not oyster mushrooms.

  “What?” Surprise was on the we
apon master’s face. This shocked him. I was confused at this since the move was so obvious.

  I pulled him close, wrapped my right arm around him and grabbed his little top knot and pulled his head back, hugging him close to me.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “I am Urto!” I screamed and vomited all over his face and into his mouth.

  ————

  I woke up in my own bed. Not, my original bed back on earth with my wife, but my new bed, in this world. It had taken the turn to become my bed in my mind. It was comfortable. I vaguely remembering the weapon master coughing and gagging. I felt better, though my head did feel like it was no longer attached, and I recall hiking here, eagerly, to the manor house, to home, trying desperately to make it before I shit my pants.

  The trees talked to me as I hiked through forest, on a direct path. What I thought was a direct path. They corrected me, ‘turn here’, ‘no, not there’, ‘don’t trip’ and guided me until I was at my doorstep. I recall apologizing to them a lot for crashing into them.

  I made it, almost, and it was an explosion. The day of not going, and then those mushrooms must have rotted their way through my insides making damned sure nothing was left behind, and it came out, in force, and power, and oh my, the retching stench. I ended up in the shower having completely ruined my bathroom. From the shower I staggered to my bed to pass out, not even bothering to dry off.

  I woke to my mouth horridly dry and yucky. I gingerly peeked at the disaster that I had left my bathroom in, not looking forward to confronting the mess. And it was perfect. As pristine as the first time I saw it. I promised myself I would never let Raevyn know about my little misadventure.

  “Thank the Gods,” I said.

  I climbed into the shower and stood under the water. I brushed while in the shower, scrubbing my teeth and I gulped down a lot of water. Then I went down and wanted a ‘full Irish’ breakfast. I cleaned my plate, finished off about a quart of orange juice, and double that in coffee, then I was ready to begin work.

  When I had left the day before, I had cleaned nothing up, I put nothing away. I left Alfred out all that time on the wagon.