The Reawakening of Major Michael F. Lukas

It felt like a shot put had been hurled into his chest. Major Michael F. Lukas fell backward onto the ground and stared into the distance as cold droplets of rain pelted his face.

“It’s not fair”. He thought to himself.

The warm blood pouring from his chest was sickeningly refreshing. The noise of shouting men belting orders slowly faded from his awareness and the only thing he could focus on was the rain. A man’s face obstructed Lukas’ view and started snapping his fingers and slapping Lukas’ face. He wanted him to go away so he could die in peace.

“What is his name again?’ The major wondered

Lukas had worked with him almost every day since he was deployed here, but couldn’t remember his name. Everything began to go out of focus. The violent twitch in his legs subsided, and Lukas realized that he could no longer move them. He coughed up the taste of copper.

“Am I really dying?”

The features on the face of the man in front of him became indistinguishable and Lukas’ breaths became quick, short, and excruciating. Even with his labored breathing, air was no longer satisfying. He felt submerged, with a river’s reed as his only source of air. Anxiety tightened its cold iron grip around his gut and he wanted to run away, but he was shivering violently from hemorrhagic shock. Everything became white.

Lukas found himself in a vast and seemingly unending jungle. It was always raining and completely silent. He would walk through the brush, between the vines, and over the fallen limbs, but no matter how hard he tried, he could find no signs of life. The trees were alive, but were always static. Even if the wind blew, which it often did in strong gusts, the trees would remain still and silent. The rain would always hit Lukas’ face. He constantly heard voices and felt eyes on him. They were voices of loved ones and voices of strangers. The last thing Lukas expected was to wake up.

The lights burned Lukas’ eyes so the only thing he could do was squint. The strangely familiar sound of the EKG beeped at a steady rhythm. Lukas felt something in his throat and noticed there was a machine breathing for him. He wanted to scream but he could barely speak because of the device in his throat. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he recognized the man asleep in a chair in against the wall. Lieutenant Machado was one of his best officers. If success hinged on the proper execution of a mission, Lukas always relied on the Lieutenant to execute it properly. His presence was comforting.

The rhythm of the EKG began to increase and the Lieutenant jumped awake. He looked around and rubbed his eyes before noticing Lukas’ Consciousness.

“Major?!” He let out an excited laugh “He’s awake!”

The pace of the EKG quickened once again and a panicked look washed over Lieutenant Machado.

“Nurse! It’s happening again!” The lieutenant announced as he rushed out of the room.

A doctor poked his head into the room and the EKG continued to quicken. He issued some rapid fire commands to the nurse and checked various instruments before Lukas lost consciousness again.

A strong gust blasted rain into Lukas’ face. He sat on the knotted root of a large canopy tree. A woman stood several feet in front of him giving him a comforting smile. The woman was his mother. Not the frail sickly mother he had said goodbye to six years ago, but the young and vibrant mother he knew as a child.

“Michael, what are you doing up there? Come down from there!”

“Yes mama” He said and fell to his feet from the branch.

The fall was longer than he had calculated and he stumbled almost losing his balance. He noticed that his hands were not the calloused and worked hands of a Major in the global police force, but the small and soft hands of a young boy.

“Look at you Michael, you got mud on your new shoes! What am I going to do with you?”

“Mama,” Lukas looked up at his mother choking back tears. “I’m scared…” He looked down at the muddy ground and couldn’t tell the rain apart from his tears. “I’m dying mama. I don’t wanna die. I’m not ready to die.”

“Come here.” His mother gently beckoned.

Lukas wrapped his arms around his mother’s legs, buried his face, and sobbed hard. His mother reached down and gently stroked his head.

“It’s not so bad, Michael. I’m sure you will pull through. You are a strong and handsome boy.”

“No mama, it’s really bad. You don’t understand.”

“Look at me Michael.” His mother commanded

Lukas pulled his face from his mother’s leg and looked up at her with a red and puffy snot-nosed face.

“You are not going to die, do you hear me? You are going to pull through and take this as an opportunity to look at your life differently. You have to be a strong man and take the challenges life presents you head on and with a confident smile on your face. Crying into my leg will only serve the purpose of making my pants wet, but standing up strong in the face of adversity will be an inspiration to everybody that looks up to you. You’ve worked too hard to get to this point in your life just to let go and die.”

Lukas was silent for a moment and took several steps backward. He sniffled and rubbed the snot off on his arm. When he looked up his mother had disappeared from the cold rainy jungle floor. He panicked and looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Be strong.” He told himself and looked up at the torrential rain. It turned into a gentle sprinkle. The sound of water droplets hitting the large leaves of the jungle floor surrounded him.

Casper Station (Part 2)

Serah pulled her coat tightly around her. She tried keeping the justifications for what she had done clear in her head. She wanted with all of her being to run back to Dwight. His minor license violation was only a small part of the reason she had to leave him. The work she was doing with her father was groundbreaking and if they were successful, they might change human civilization permanently, and Dwight was only holding her back from that. She held a little comfort in the likelihood that he would talk her out of all of this foolishness in a few hours.

Taking the long route to Casper Station, Serah carefully avoided passing in front of the shopping center where she first met Dwight. The night was bitter cold and she couldn’t wait to be in the warmth of her home and surrounded by the laughter of her children, but the musty gravrail car would suffice until then. When she arrived at the platform, she went to the kiosk, rented a net tablet, and scrolled through the news sites looking for something to distract her mind for the ride home. Something she saw out of her periphery bugged her. Every time she looked up the same man was staring at her.

The man was tall with brown blonde hair and a well kempt beard. Serah couldn’t tell if he was burly or if his brown jacket was just filled with too much down. She would consider him handsome if he didn’t seem so predatory. He faced her and began to walk in her direction. Serah pulled her jacket tighter and let out a nervous smile as the man approached her.

“Need a tissue?”

Serah realized that in her haste to get away from Dwight, she forgot to wipe the running mascara from her face. “Oh, no thank you I have one,” Serah said as she began ruffling through her purse.

“One of those days, eh?”

His intense gaze never left Serah’s face.

“Yeah, I guess.” She let out a polite chuckle “Do you know what time the train is coming?”

“Hmmm…” The man stroked his beard “I got here just as the last train was leaving, so I guess in about five minutes.”

“Thanks, I should go wash my face.”

Thankful for a reason to get away from the bearded man, Serah headed into the bathroom and cleaned her face off. She made sure to take her time. Waiting in the bathroom would be more comfortable than standing on the platform with that man. Sometimes Serah thought the only reason women had even separate bathrooms was so they would have a place to retreat from men like him. Serah tossed the tissue in the trash and stared at herself in the mirror. Her black hair came down to her jaw line and curved forward toward her chin. The slight coloration in her pigment as well as her bone structure gave away her Thai descent. Her otherwise deep and contemplative eyes were irritated and puffy. Once Serah was certain that five minutes had passed, she left the bathroom and shouldered her way through the crowd on the platform. It still amazed her how many people could gather in just five minutes.

The gravtrain pulled in as silently as if it were never there. The light coming from its windows illuminated the platform in the dusk. The snake-like train set a solid foreground for the tall buildings that hogged the skyline. Serah took a few moments to admire the picture painted by the dark city and red sky. Once most of the crowd had piled onto the train, Serah followed as she fuddled through her purse trying to find the pocket she put the ‘net tablet in. With her legs on autopilot, she found an empty seat as well as an article about her father’s company on the ‘net.

“We meet again.”

Serah looked up to see the bearded man sitting across from her. He was beaming.

“Hah, yeah I guess so.”She looked back down at her tablet and hoped he would get the message this time. He didn’t.

“Did you know that before anti-gravity fields, we used magnets in trains like this one? The design hasn’t changed much but-“

“Sir, I’m sure what you have to say is fascinating,” Serah interrupted “But I have had a very stressful day and would just like time to myself until I get home.”

“Very understandable” The man stroked his beard and his smile faded into a scowl. “And you’re right, what I have to say is fascinating. Life changing even. I really think you should hear it.”

The look in his eye was hard to place. She knew he wanted something, and knew it had to do to with her, but it wasn’t sex. She set the tablet in her lap.

“Okay you win. What?”

“Where was I? Oh yes! As I was saying, the design of these trains hasn’t changed much excepting certain modifications to the track as well as different materials used on the cars to make the train run more quietly. We take for granted that gravtrains are virtually silent. Like ghosts. That’s why they name every station in this city after a famous ghost. But I’m getting off track here.” The bearded man chuckled at his own dry pun “My point is that the invention of anti-gravitational fields revolutionized transportation. That was, what? A hundred years ago? Anti-grav tech is still limited to low weight planet-side transportation. If it is such a revolutionary technology, why haven’t there been any breakthroughs in anti-grav technology in one hundred whole years?”

As he finished the question, Serah’s heart began to race. It wasn’t the question itself but the circumstances under which it was posed. If Serah were any other person in the world, it would seem like a purely intellectual question. Anti-grav technology was one of the focuses of her father’s research and if their current success was any indication of future results, they could be on the verge of a massive breakthrough. As one of his chief researchers, she knew just about every scientist in the field, but she didn’t recognize this man. Serah went through all of the possibilities in her head, but still the only thing that stood out about this man’s identity caused her stomach to wrench in terror.

“Who are you?” Serah’s voice broke

The bearded man smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a notepad.

“I have to hand it to you Serah, you are a clever one. You come by it honestly I’m sure.”

He paused for a moment and scrawled something on the pad.

“My name is Marcus.” He tore the page out from the notepad, folded it neatly, and handed it to her. “I’m getting off at King Hamlet Station”

Serah unfolded the paper and all of her fears were realized. ‘If you ever want to see your kids again, I suggest you take a walk with me.’

Casper Station (Part 1)

This is a reworked piece of a story that I am currently writing. I'll update this post as I revise more of the story.

“It’s over, Dwight. I’m finished.” Serah’s tear-filled eyes flitted from the empty wine glass, to the waiter, and back to Dwight. “I can’t do this anymore. You haven’t had a job for a year and a half and the kids deserve better.”

Dwight stared blankly with his mouth half open as though he had been given a lobotomy.

“I… I don’t understand. This. This is-,” Dwight understood. Somewhere in his gut, he knew that this was coming, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. “Look, we had our whole life planned out. It took us two years just to get approved for a license to have Damian, and you’re going to just throw this all away?!”

Serah blinked the tear out of her eye. “There is no this, Dwight. You’re a shell of the man I fell in love with, and you have done nothing to provide for our children since you lost your job. And you’re right! It did take us two years to get approval for Damian so you should remember that one of the most important rules under the contract for the license is that you are supposed to be able to provide for your children properly! I honestly don’t know how we’ve gone so long without the government kicking in our door and slapping us with a fine.” Her mascara began to run.

Dwight broke out in a cold sweat as he realized what was happening. He was about to lose the only thing he had left in this world, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He put his clammy hand on the table and looked down at the remains of his steak.

“Serah, you know there is no market left on Earth for a fusion engineer. The only place I can get a job is on an outer colony, and it would take a generation to get to the closest one. By then the question of raising our kids would be obsolete. Please look at this from my point of view.”

Serah’s eyes turned to slits. “Yes, I’ve heard this all a hundred times before, but the law is the law and the last thing I want is for Damian and Jess to be taken away and sent god knows where. Look, I’ve been thinking this over for a long time. Dad agrees that this is the best thing to do.”

“Ah, so the all wise and powerful Matthew Savanh pulls through once again. I’m so sorry I can’t be rich and powerful like him.” Dwight said mockingly

“Yeah,” Serah nodded. “Me too.”

There was a long silence between them as Dwight kept his seething anger under check. Serah had a habit of hitting him where it hurt when he was most vulnerable, and he was reeling from the massive blow to his ego.

“While we’re on the subject of my father, I’ve arranged to live with him until I can find a place of my own. We can arrange visitation if-“

“Serah, your father lives off planet,” Dwight interrupted. “You know I can’t afford that!”

“They’re your kids too! if you really want to see them, you’ll find a way. Besides, it’s about time to show them some devotion and this is your big chance.”

Serah waved her hand over the sensor on the table. It read her bank account information from the identity chip that had been implanted in her hand since birth.

“I’ll see you at home, Dwight,” And with that she stood up and left. He watched her as she navigated past the tables and grabbed her coat from the rack. He admired the way her blue dress so perfectly framed her body. Dwight would have liked to know that today was the last day he would ever see Serah and his children.

Sound Carried By Breath

Skipping stones across the pond of their memories
He's silently standing locked in her gaze
Confused, buried, and lost in its maze
Reawakening passion he carefully stays

All in a brief moment
The hand of his lament
Brushes hair from her face

Betrayed by his eyes, masked desire slips
And like an alarm he unknowingly trips
That switch in her mind solemnly flips
The clamp in her core tightens its grip
Sound carried by breath passes her lips

"No"

Ima's Dream

A girl looked down at the blood encrusted on her hands and under her fingernails. The image had been seared into her mind. She was on her knees clutching the stiff, pale, and lifeess woman close to her bosom while tiny rocks from the dry dirt dug into her now raw and stinging knees. The tears stopped coming because she could no longer produce them. The lingering odor of burnt flesh and pine crept into the girl's nose. "Just keep the flies away, just keep the flies away." she chanted as she waved her hands to scare the buzzing scourge that pestered the peace of the woman's rest. They greedily swarmed and landed to feast only to be swatted away by the girl again and again. The unforgiving sun beat down on the girl's neck while the back of her throat felt like burlap. "So thirsty". The girl peered toward center of the village and stared longingly at the well. She couldn't leave this woman who was somehow important to her. Just keep the flies away.

Why is she important? She wondered as she looked down at the woman's face. She was beautiful. Tiny wisps of her jet black hair escaped their confinement in the bun they were tied in and swayed in the breeze. The woman's eyes were closed and a peaceful expression was always on her colorless face. Looking at the woman made her feel comfortable and safe. Seeing the flies made her stomach wretch. They were tiny reminders of the sick reality that this woman was gone now. Just keep the flies away.

A faint clanking and rumbling sound became barely audible against the backdrop of the buzzing cicadas. The girl jarred her eyes from the woman and squinted past the piles of ash and cinder that were once buildings. In the distance she found a growing cloud of dust being kicked up on the road winding down the hill toward the village. The rumbling grew into a pounding. The clanking grew into a crashing.

On the crest of the hill a line of a dozen heavily armored men on horseback materialized through of the waves of heat rising from the dirt as their horses stomped past the eerily vacant rice paddies The men each bore two swords and a rectangular flag was posted on dowels and fastened to their back. All of them wore black helmets and the man in the front of the formation had a taller helmet and from the front jutted a dragon.

Anger began to stoke a flame deep inside her only to be extinguished by the cold wind of terror that crept up her back and seized her heart. The tears that had grown dormant began to well up once more and roll down her dirty cheeks. These were the men that did this to her home. The girl remained still. If she left the flies would come. Just keep the flies away.

She recalled the screaming from the night before. The massacre. She looked down at the woman onto which she clutched ever so tightly. The large darkened spot on the woman's brown kimono reminded her once again; This woman is gone. The terror wrapped itself around her chest and squeezed tightly shortening the girl's breath. Just keep the flies away.

The other men broke from their formation and scattered around the village as the Dragon-Helmet man slowed his pace from a gallop to a trot. He slowly circled the girl peering over the monstrous fangs that made up his mouthpiece. The rest of the armored men trickled in from the nooks and crannies of the village. "They're not here, sir," they told the Dragon-Helmet man. He dismounted and adjusted his gloves as he began to walk toward the girl with his armor clanking with every step. The tears continued to pour down the girl's face and collect on her chin as the terror froze her every limb and violently shook her hands. He grabbed the girl by her arms and threw her to the ground. The girl's vision began to blur as the man slid his sword from it's scabbard and raised it above his head. She felt sick. Color escaped her peripheral vision. Everything turned black.

***

The girl let out a whimper and a deep gasp as she opened her eyes to find a night sky full of stars. A cool breeze drifted over her body cooling her sweat-soaked forehead. The crickets and cicadas made their beautiful music and a fire crackled in the background. The ground was soft. She moved her fingers to find not barren rocky dirt, but cloth. She was in a bed. A light burning sensation prickled the girl's arm and shoulder and a dull heat and flickering light danced just out of her view. She looked over to find a shirtless man sitting with his legs crossed facing a campfire. He wore brown pants fastened by a rope and had a muscular build. His torso was wrapped in bandages half covering several long scars along his back.

"Another nightmare?" He asked. The man slowly turned to face her. His gaze was focused and calm.

"I think so." She couldn't remember anything at all. "Where am I?"

"You are safe here." The man assured as he uncrossed his legs to stand. His hair was wild and uneven. It was long in the front and short in the back. He rose and faced the fire once again. "My name is Isi." He said as he rose to his feet, arms akimbo.

The girl felt uneasy about this man she didn't recognize. But then, I don't recognize any of this. Why can't I remember anything?

"My name is..." The image of the woman she was clutching in her dream flashed into her mind. She was alive and vibrant. She was smiling and her eyes were welcoming. Her kimono was blue with a white flower pattern. The woman opened her mouth. 'Matsuki Otome' She said as the image of the woman dissolved from her mind.

"Your name is Ima." Isi stayed focused on the fire.

"Who is Matsuki Otome?" Ima inquired as she sat up and inspected her hands. Her hands and fingernails were clean and the blood was gone.

"Matsuki Otome is dead. Your name is Ima." Isi repeated. He ruffled his hair and looked back at Ima. She was still a young girl who hasn't seen more than ten winters. Her usually long straight black hair was a disheveled mess. Her features were soft and round and her eyes were still innocent. Isi picked up a spear and slung a bow and quiver over his back. He walked away from the fire and his foot nudged something soft. He bent down to pick up a large lock of black hair and let out an amused grunt before tossing it into the fire.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Ima asked with a disconnected voice

Isi paused as he stared deeply into the fire. "Because I have taken a new path in life."

Ima looked back down at her hands. Her past felt barely out of her reach taunting her with it's secrets. Her uneasiness and disorientation began to grow into frustration and despair as tears began to well up in the girl's eyes. The breeze carried the revolting smell of Isi's burning hair over to Ima.

"I'm going to be sick." Ima jumped from her bed and ran tripping over a bundle of cloth and caught herself on a nearby tree. As she leaned on the coarse bark, the girl felt weak and her breathing quickened. Cold water splashed over Ima's back causing her to spin around violently. Isi stood leaning on his spear with his other arm extended holding an empty bowl.

"Control yourself" He said calmly

Who is he to tell me to control myself!? The thought furiously raced through her mind as the reality of the situation sunk in. He was a big man with a big spear; precisely the type of person to tell her to control herself.

She leaned back on the tree and let her tears fall to the ground. The uneven bark from the tree caused the dull burning sensation on her shoulder to sting. Ima looked up at Isi. "Please turn around." She requested. Isi nodded his head in compliance as he turned around to set the bowl down by the campfire. Ima was wearing a brown kimono, a robe that extended down to her ankles and was secured by a sash tied at waist level. She lowered the left side of her kimono to inspect her back and found the tattoo of a dragon snaking up her arm to devour a red sun rising on her shoulder. Her skin under the tattoo was raw and swollen.

"Don't touch it." Isi warned as he wrapped his ankles with a white cloth. "Wash up, the sun will be rising soon. We have to leave."

"Where are we going?"

"We are wanderers, that is what we do. We go. Now isn't the time for questions."

***

Birds began to chirp as the sky transitioned from black to a deep blue. Ima stood immersed to her neck in the pond, if not for the water she would be bare. The cool water soothed the raw and burning tattoo that she couldn't explain. She couldn't explain any of this, it all still felt like a dream.

Isi sat with his legs crossed on the shore. He had a red mat laid out in front of him and was ritualistically sharpening his wakizashi, a short sword about twenty inches from the hilt to the tip. It remained the same width up until the last three inches where it formed a pointed end. It had a slight curvature and only one sharp side. It was not a blade meant for hacking but for precise cuts from a highly trained wielder.

"I'm finished!" Ima proclaimed

Isi sheathed the sword and rolled up the mat containing all of his sharpening paraphernalia. He walked back toward the camp trying his best to remain vigilant. His healthy paranoia kept him up all night never more than an arms length from his spear. The campfire was now a smoldering black heap. Isi made sure to put it out before daybreak. If they had pursued him this far, which was a very real possibility, he didn't want to give them any reasons to find him and the girl. Isi bundled up the remaining food, eating implements, and bedding, and fastened it all with a rope forming a nice heavy backpack. He could afford to split the contents of the pack, he could even carry the pack himself with no real extra burden, but this girl was weak. She was going to be the unwitting and undeserving recipient of a soldier's training.

"I'm ready" Ima said, tying the sash around her kimono.

"Good. Leave your shoes, I'll need your feet to be strong." Isi slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder and pointed at the pack. "You'll be carrying that until I say otherwise."

Ima looked over at the pack. It's bigger than I am!. She looked back up at Isi who was already on his way. She walked over to the pack and tried to pick it up but it was too heavy for her to lift. She set the pack upright and squatted in front of it putting her arms through the ropes. She slowly stood up trying not to fall down as the rope dug into the tops of her shoulders. Once she was confident enough that she wasn't going to fall, she began to walk.

Isi waited for her to catch up. "Ima your shoes."

Ima looked down at her straw sandals and back up at Isi with a pained expression on her face.

"And take this" He handed his wakazashi to Ima.

"What's this for?" Ima began to worry.

Isi chuckled and looked up at Ima with a warm smile. "Good measure".