Wednesday, May 30, 2012

War Angel: part sixty-two


From the Journal of Steven Keys- October 11, 2021

They managed to save my right eye. My vision isn’t exactly great in it; I think I’ll need a… shit, do we even have the capability of making a monocle anymore? I suppose if I could find a good prescription lens, I could break a pair of glasses in half and do it that way. On the bright side, if I hold the paper close, I can write, so I still have this.

I’m not sure I have anything else.

Still flabbergasted that they came for me. I understand it, but I don’t. Rationally, they needed to know if I had broken, what I had told. I’m certain they were moving and shifting things anyway, planning from the moment I was captured. The only smart thing to do. Stupid not to.

The good news, to them, is that I gave up nothing. They believe I didn’t crack, didn’t break under the torture.

A lie.

On the second day, when they took two of the toes from my right foot, my mind… I suppose I can best describe it as a schism. I faded out. Steve was away from the phone, please leave a message. Even now, it comes to me in bits and pieces, but what I do know is this: Nadine was there.

“But Steve” you say, “she’s dead. Not possible.” Trust me when I say that I realize that. But as they started snipping away at my feet, I felt my brain leave my body and I saw Nadine standing there next to me. She looked good, like the Nadine I met all those years ago. In fact, I think she was wearing the same dress she wore on our first date. We went to a Mongolian barbecue joint, a tiny little spot in a dying strip mall in east Mesa. She got tofu, I got steak. Tasted amazing. After that we went to a small local theatre and saw a performance of Much Ado About Nothing. It was one of the greatest- and most important- nights of my life. Anyway, there she was, smiling at me like she hadn’t seen me in years.

We talked. She asked me about Yumiko and told me she was happy for me. I asked her if she missed being alive, and she said no. I could hear the regret in her voice when she said it. Then she said that she only missed me, which was nice, yet also kind of sad. As we were talking, she cut herself off and said she had to go, like it was a real hurry. As she did, I snapped out of it, noticing then that the Omegan doctors were sewing up my foot. Seeing it, I cried.

Overwhelmed with missing Nadine, I cried more.

Logically, I realize that I manifested Nadine as a coping mechanism for the pain and agony coursing through my body. I continued to do so during the duration of my “stay” with our enemy. As far as this sort of thing goes, I’m rather impressed with my brain for working this one out. Appreciative, even. Whenever I snapped out of it, and the agony started setting in, it was all I could do not to whimper and beg. Never did, though. For whatever reason, I held on the idea that I would see her again when they started up, and I realized that I missed her so much that I… looked forward to it.

Obviously, I don’t think I’ll be sharing this with Yumiko. Maybe she would understand, maybe she wouldn’t. It isn’t important for me to find out. What is important is that she fought for the idea of rescuing me, and that she is alive and loves me right here and right now. I’m not going to throw that away for a mirage.

But… there is a part of me that wonders why I didn’t manifest Yumiko. What that means about my feelings for her.

Fuck, I’m a mess. Thinking about this kind of stuff instead of the fact that we’re currently being occupied by a military force of big purple bastards. Or maybe this is a good sign, that I am thinking about something normal in the face of all this insane shit happening to our world.

Fuck, I’m a mess.

Anyway, once I am feeling up to getting around and moving, I have been asked to report to the design group. I’ve spent more time inside Omegan vessels than any other living human, and they want to pick my brain about the things I’ve seen. Apparently there is a movement to design a ship of our own to meet the Omegans in the air, taking them on ship-to-ship. Whatever they come up with, it’ll probably take years to get it going. Better get started now, I suppose.

Nurse just came in and left a sleeping pill for me. Guess the word is getting around that I have been avoiding sleep since I got back. There’s truth in that, I know. I… shit. There’s a part of me that is terrified that I dreamt the rescue. That I have replaced Nadine with this scenario. That I look down at my six remaining toes and eight fingers, using my one good eye, and I fade out into imagination land. What happens if I go to sleep and I am right back there on that ship? Maybe that’s what will push me over that final edge.

No. No sleep until I am sure.

Yet how bad could death really be? Would it be better than this “life” on Earth?

Fuck, I’m a mess. A rambling, barely coherent mess. Can’t survive like this, that’s for sure. Maybe I’ll take the damn pill and just let things play out. Ugh.

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