Part 211: Awakenings
Colonel Fender walked into his office. It was the only room that was bothered to be cleaned. He walked over to a small shelf that contained his bottles of scotch. Gently he opened up a bottle and poured him some in a small glass. As he sipped it, a rapping echoed from his door. “Come in,” he ordered.
Belmont stepped in, close the door and stood at attention. “At ease,” Fender told him.
The second-in-command relaxed. The Colonel walked over to his desk and sat down, sniffing his scotch. He then chugged in one gulp. “Have you read my report, sir?” Belmont asked.
“I have.” The Colonel said, calmly.
“Your thoughts, sir?”
“You did the right thing with Titus. He must be kept on a short leash.”
“I think he is still bitter about his demotion.”
“That is to be expected, wouldn’t you say?” Fender smiled.
“Of course, sir,” Belmont said.
“Have a seat, Henry,” he pointed to the chair in front to him.
Belmont stepped forward and sat down. Fender pulled out his box of cigars and within seconds, lit one up. He inhaled deeply and blew a smoke ring into the air. The blonde soldier waited for his superior to speak. “I brought another psychic.” He whispered.
“Is he any better, sir?” Belmont asked.
“We will soon see.” The colonel leaned forward, “It is imperative that we communicate with that thing in the ground.”
“Let’s hope he works. The last one was screaming so loud we had to put a bullet in his head to shut him up.”
“And we may do so again but we must try. We need the password if we are go forward.”
“But, sir . . . we’ve already been able to do so much . . .”
“Yes, Belmont but we can do so much more.” He sneered at him.
“Yes, sir,” Belmont sighed.
“Status on Frakes?” he asked.
“He is in the Awakening Room now.” The blonde leader pointed toward the other door, “Luckily his wound wasn’t that bad. He was under the impression the boy had shot his testicles but he missed. Since it was in his crotch area and there was so much blood, he naturally panicked.”
“Do not let him stay in the Awakening Room for too long.” Fender got up to get more scotch, “I want to see what Mister Fishman can do.”
“Fishman?” the second in command raised an eyebrow, “THAT’S his name?”
“Yes, it is,” the old man chuckled.
“Well . . I heard stupider.” Belmont stood up.
The second in command walked toward the door and opened it to leave. Immediately the old blind woman Cassandra was standing there, holding her wooden staff. Belmont gently stepped aside to allow her in. The blind woman slowly walked to the chair which he was sitting and sat down. The Colonel sipped on his scotch and then motioned for his second to get Frakes out of the Awakening Room. The blonde man then walked the length of the room into the special room.
Inside the room was empty, except for a single shelf that contained nothing. In the corner, Frakes sat against the walls with his eyes closed. He was sweating; which was normal in the Awakening Room. Belmont walked over to him and checked his wound. The stitching was already starting to disappear. “Frakes, time’s up.” Belmont grabbed his arm.
“Hmm?” he said, opening his eyes from a sort of trance.
“I said, time’s up, partner. The Colonel wants you out and if I stay here too long, I will want to stay too.” He said, putting his arm around his shoulder.
“Give me five more minutes,” he begged with a groggy voice, “I was starting to see some mermaids.”
“Where they Lesbians?” joked the blonde man as he dragged his friend out.
The Colonel watched two of his most trusted men finally leave his office area. The old crone in front to him faced his back wall. He finally sat down and gulped his scotch again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing from an unseen pain. He then leaned over and opened up his travel bag. He pulled out a bottle of pills, placed one into his hand and then shoved it down his throat. Gulping, he coughed and poured himself another glass of scotch. “You haven’t slept.” Cassandra whispered.
“I have slept, my dear,” he coughed, “But I haven’t gotten any rest. Big difference.”
“The same dream?”
“The exact same dream,” the colonel massaged his face, “The exact same nightmare . .the pain is so real . . every single time . . .the Medicine is helping but I still have a feeling of dread every night when I got to sleep.”
“The Island is causing it. It must be.”
“I don’t think so,” Fender coughed.
“What makes you say that?”
“The dreams started happening about a month and a half ago,” he stood up, crossing his arms, “They started out as normal nightmares and then they increased intensity. Then the warnings began to echo in my head even when I was awake. Now . . .she is here. In the flesh, and I am not hallucinating.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Who?” she asked.
“Mia,” he turned to her, “The young Indian girl that Belmont nearly hanged this morning.”
“She . . .she is the one in your dream?”
“Yes, and now, this must be the omen that I knew would strike my life.”
“She’s hear to kill you,” the old crone whispered.
“You don’t know that.” Fender immediately shot back at her.
“If you think for instance, she will take my place by your side . .”
“SILENCE, OLD WOMAN!” Fender screamed, “You . . .are reading too much into this. I merely wish to talk to with her. Nothing more.”
Cassandra twisted her cheeks, slightly angry that the colonel put her in her place. True, she could not see the winds of the future in regards to Mia but she didn’t like how Fender had taken such an immediate interest in her. The old crone then stood up and found her way outside. Pristine was there with the psychic Fishman. She escorted him in and closed the door behind him. “Well, Colonel, we must be near it,” he said, “I can feel it . . .like . . .a pulse in my spine.”
“It’s in the next room,” the colonel stood up, “Let me know you the way.”
--------------------------------------------------,
In the bunker, everybody rested against the metal walls but said nothing. Mia was resting in John’s arms, as he gently stroked her hair as she slept. Clay was mumbling something to himself. Hurley tried to pick up on it but he couldn’t hear him. Libby was massaging her arm, and Ana-Lucia looked like she was going to sleep. Joseclyn kept to herself most of the time, which wasn’t unusual. Marita stayed next to Tony, as he massaged the dead skin from his wrists. The Latina rubbed her neck and then her eyes fell on Mia. The Lakota girl still had small bruises around her neck. The stewardess stared at them and then abruptly stood up, storming to the corner. “Marita?” her boyfriend called.
The Latina walked to the corner, placed her head against the wall and began to cry. Jack then took Tony’s hand and helped him up; pointing him in the right direction. The blind doctor felt along side the wall and arrived at Marita, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “I know, honey,” he whispered, “No one likes being in his damn cage. But you have to hang on, I promise you McKay is coming.”
She then turned around and embracing him, weeping into his chest. He held onto her, hoping that if she let it out, she would be better later. After crying for two minutes, she stopped and wiped her nose. “It’s not that,” she whispered, “I . .Tony . .”
“What’s wrong, Marita?” he whispered, “You can talk to me.”
“When they . . .were coming to get Mia . . .I didn’t think they were going to choose her.”
Tony listened.
“I saw you out there. I thought . .I thought they were going to choose me . .to use . .as leverage toward you . . “
“Shhhh,” he rubbed her arms.
“When they chose Mia . . . I was . . .Oh, God, Tony, I was happy . . .I was happy it wasn’t me . . .and I hate myself for it.”
“No, baby, no,” he embraced her tightly, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You are not alone in that aspect.”
She sniffed, and looked up at him, “Wha . .what do you mean?”
“When I was in the Gulf War, three men got gunned down in front of me. I was wearing the blood and brains . . .and I was glad. I was glad it wasn’t me. I went to confession so many times before the pain and the shame washed away. You are not alone, Marita. I know exactly what you are going through.”
She wept into his arms a little more. Then as she was done, she looked up and gasped. Tony turned around, unable to see who was behind him but he knew someone was. Marita shook her head, “Mia . .I . .”
“I was coming to see if you were all right, “the Lakota girl whispered, “Marita, don’t cry. I don’t blame you for feeling that. If the roles were reversed. . . .I would probably feel the same thing.”
Marita took two steps forward and the Lakota girl hugged her. The Latina cried on her shoulder. Mia rubbed her friends shoulder blades, comforting her. “Let it out, Marita,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.” She cried, “I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be,” she encouraged her, “We will get through this.”
Belmont stepped in, close the door and stood at attention. “At ease,” Fender told him.
The second-in-command relaxed. The Colonel walked over to his desk and sat down, sniffing his scotch. He then chugged in one gulp. “Have you read my report, sir?” Belmont asked.
“I have.” The Colonel said, calmly.
“Your thoughts, sir?”
“You did the right thing with Titus. He must be kept on a short leash.”
“I think he is still bitter about his demotion.”
“That is to be expected, wouldn’t you say?” Fender smiled.
“Of course, sir,” Belmont said.
“Have a seat, Henry,” he pointed to the chair in front to him.
Belmont stepped forward and sat down. Fender pulled out his box of cigars and within seconds, lit one up. He inhaled deeply and blew a smoke ring into the air. The blonde soldier waited for his superior to speak. “I brought another psychic.” He whispered.
“Is he any better, sir?” Belmont asked.
“We will soon see.” The colonel leaned forward, “It is imperative that we communicate with that thing in the ground.”
“Let’s hope he works. The last one was screaming so loud we had to put a bullet in his head to shut him up.”
“And we may do so again but we must try. We need the password if we are go forward.”
“But, sir . . . we’ve already been able to do so much . . .”
“Yes, Belmont but we can do so much more.” He sneered at him.
“Yes, sir,” Belmont sighed.
“Status on Frakes?” he asked.
“He is in the Awakening Room now.” The blonde leader pointed toward the other door, “Luckily his wound wasn’t that bad. He was under the impression the boy had shot his testicles but he missed. Since it was in his crotch area and there was so much blood, he naturally panicked.”
“Do not let him stay in the Awakening Room for too long.” Fender got up to get more scotch, “I want to see what Mister Fishman can do.”
“Fishman?” the second in command raised an eyebrow, “THAT’S his name?”
“Yes, it is,” the old man chuckled.
“Well . . I heard stupider.” Belmont stood up.
The second in command walked toward the door and opened it to leave. Immediately the old blind woman Cassandra was standing there, holding her wooden staff. Belmont gently stepped aside to allow her in. The blind woman slowly walked to the chair which he was sitting and sat down. The Colonel sipped on his scotch and then motioned for his second to get Frakes out of the Awakening Room. The blonde man then walked the length of the room into the special room.
Inside the room was empty, except for a single shelf that contained nothing. In the corner, Frakes sat against the walls with his eyes closed. He was sweating; which was normal in the Awakening Room. Belmont walked over to him and checked his wound. The stitching was already starting to disappear. “Frakes, time’s up.” Belmont grabbed his arm.
“Hmm?” he said, opening his eyes from a sort of trance.
“I said, time’s up, partner. The Colonel wants you out and if I stay here too long, I will want to stay too.” He said, putting his arm around his shoulder.
“Give me five more minutes,” he begged with a groggy voice, “I was starting to see some mermaids.”
“Where they Lesbians?” joked the blonde man as he dragged his friend out.
The Colonel watched two of his most trusted men finally leave his office area. The old crone in front to him faced his back wall. He finally sat down and gulped his scotch again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing from an unseen pain. He then leaned over and opened up his travel bag. He pulled out a bottle of pills, placed one into his hand and then shoved it down his throat. Gulping, he coughed and poured himself another glass of scotch. “You haven’t slept.” Cassandra whispered.
“I have slept, my dear,” he coughed, “But I haven’t gotten any rest. Big difference.”
“The same dream?”
“The exact same dream,” the colonel massaged his face, “The exact same nightmare . .the pain is so real . . every single time . . .the Medicine is helping but I still have a feeling of dread every night when I got to sleep.”
“The Island is causing it. It must be.”
“I don’t think so,” Fender coughed.
“What makes you say that?”
“The dreams started happening about a month and a half ago,” he stood up, crossing his arms, “They started out as normal nightmares and then they increased intensity. Then the warnings began to echo in my head even when I was awake. Now . . .she is here. In the flesh, and I am not hallucinating.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Who?” she asked.
“Mia,” he turned to her, “The young Indian girl that Belmont nearly hanged this morning.”
“She . . .she is the one in your dream?”
“Yes, and now, this must be the omen that I knew would strike my life.”
“She’s hear to kill you,” the old crone whispered.
“You don’t know that.” Fender immediately shot back at her.
“If you think for instance, she will take my place by your side . .”
“SILENCE, OLD WOMAN!” Fender screamed, “You . . .are reading too much into this. I merely wish to talk to with her. Nothing more.”
Cassandra twisted her cheeks, slightly angry that the colonel put her in her place. True, she could not see the winds of the future in regards to Mia but she didn’t like how Fender had taken such an immediate interest in her. The old crone then stood up and found her way outside. Pristine was there with the psychic Fishman. She escorted him in and closed the door behind him. “Well, Colonel, we must be near it,” he said, “I can feel it . . .like . . .a pulse in my spine.”
“It’s in the next room,” the colonel stood up, “Let me know you the way.”
--------------------------------------------------,
In the bunker, everybody rested against the metal walls but said nothing. Mia was resting in John’s arms, as he gently stroked her hair as she slept. Clay was mumbling something to himself. Hurley tried to pick up on it but he couldn’t hear him. Libby was massaging her arm, and Ana-Lucia looked like she was going to sleep. Joseclyn kept to herself most of the time, which wasn’t unusual. Marita stayed next to Tony, as he massaged the dead skin from his wrists. The Latina rubbed her neck and then her eyes fell on Mia. The Lakota girl still had small bruises around her neck. The stewardess stared at them and then abruptly stood up, storming to the corner. “Marita?” her boyfriend called.
The Latina walked to the corner, placed her head against the wall and began to cry. Jack then took Tony’s hand and helped him up; pointing him in the right direction. The blind doctor felt along side the wall and arrived at Marita, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “I know, honey,” he whispered, “No one likes being in his damn cage. But you have to hang on, I promise you McKay is coming.”
She then turned around and embracing him, weeping into his chest. He held onto her, hoping that if she let it out, she would be better later. After crying for two minutes, she stopped and wiped her nose. “It’s not that,” she whispered, “I . .Tony . .”
“What’s wrong, Marita?” he whispered, “You can talk to me.”
“When they . . .were coming to get Mia . . .I didn’t think they were going to choose her.”
Tony listened.
“I saw you out there. I thought . .I thought they were going to choose me . .to use . .as leverage toward you . . “
“Shhhh,” he rubbed her arms.
“When they chose Mia . . . I was . . .Oh, God, Tony, I was happy . . .I was happy it wasn’t me . . .and I hate myself for it.”
“No, baby, no,” he embraced her tightly, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You are not alone in that aspect.”
She sniffed, and looked up at him, “Wha . .what do you mean?”
“When I was in the Gulf War, three men got gunned down in front of me. I was wearing the blood and brains . . .and I was glad. I was glad it wasn’t me. I went to confession so many times before the pain and the shame washed away. You are not alone, Marita. I know exactly what you are going through.”
She wept into his arms a little more. Then as she was done, she looked up and gasped. Tony turned around, unable to see who was behind him but he knew someone was. Marita shook her head, “Mia . .I . .”
“I was coming to see if you were all right, “the Lakota girl whispered, “Marita, don’t cry. I don’t blame you for feeling that. If the roles were reversed. . . .I would probably feel the same thing.”
Marita took two steps forward and the Lakota girl hugged her. The Latina cried on her shoulder. Mia rubbed her friends shoulder blades, comforting her. “Let it out, Marita,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.” She cried, “I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be,” she encouraged her, “We will get through this.”
posted by Jason | 1:29 PM
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