The Last World (5 page)

He was more than happy to let her talk to her old man. Even when she shot playful looks
toward him he tried to look uninterested, but failed.

“That’s just great
, Daddy. Sure, we’d love to come over tomorrow night.” Janice smiled at Horace as a plan hatched in her brain. “Horace is right here, do you want to talk with him?”

Horace’s calm shattered in an instant and his horrified look brought a laugh from Janice. “Really? Oh, I’m sorry
, Daddy. Okay… I’ll talk to you then. Bye.” She hung the receiver in its cradle and turned to face her boyfriend. “Looks like you got lucky.” From the look he gave her, she could tell he didn’t feel lucky.

*****

Doctor Doug set the receiver down and sat back in his chair. The fact Horace was nervous was as obvious as leprosy, and he didn’t see the need to help his daughter traumatize the young man any further. He had other reasons for wanting to get off the phone. Franklin Bowen’s file needed to be updated. As a matter of practicality, he wanted to give the night staff a clean slate. His daughter’s phone call took his mind off of the task at hand and the trepidation did pass, only to be replaced with intense curiosity.

Before any second thoughts could take root
, he flipped the folder open and began to read. In general, the only information they had on a patient was the barest essentials: previous conditions, operations, allergies, and of course, insurance. What struck him as odd was Mr. Bowen’s parents and contact information was filled in by the receiving nurse.
Hadn’t he come in semi-conscious?
Doug thought it curious that Harriet Rice was able to gather such information. Such a task usually came later, once the patient was able to offer it. Of course, the boys with him could’ve volunteered it, but Horace told him he didn’t know the man and he doubted the Drake boy knew him if Horace didn’t.
They probably asked him when they found him
. To be on the safe side, he’d ask Miss Rice when he saw her next. He doubted it was some devilish plot to overthrow humanity. Such things only happened in movies or books.

The item he noted with surprise was the young man’s father. General Winfield Jackson Bowen was well known throughout the world as a brilliant military strategist. Most likely a myth, as most reputations were, but he made a note to call the general in the morning
, then changed his mind. Picking up the phone, he pressed the buttons listed as the general’s contact information.

On the second ring
, the phone was answered with a commanding voice. He didn’t expect anything else. “Winfield Bowen.”

That was short and sweet
. “General Bowen?” He didn’t mean it to be a question, but that’s how he sounded.

The audible sigh told Doug that man’s patience for foolish inquiries was low. “Yes. What can I do for you?” He didn’t ask how someone he didn’t know got his direct line
, but Doug could imagine the line was being traced as they spoke.

“I’m sorry to disturb you
, sir, but I thought you should know your son’s at Tarken Heights Memorial Hospital. There’s been an accident.”

The general’s voice tightened
. “Is he alright?”

Doug nodded, though he knew the general
couldn’t see him. “He’s doing well. We’re holding him for observation until tomorrow.” He paused, thinking the general wanted to ask something. When he didn’t, Doug continued, “He was found semi-conscious, so we suspect a concussion but he hasn’t shown the usual symptoms.”

“I see.” Doug could imagine the wheels turning in the general’s head. Fathers tended to worry more than mothers, they just did a better job at hiding it. “So he’s alright?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. “Where is your hospital? I’m in D.C. now
, but I can be there by morning.”

Doug smiled
. The man wasn’t as aloof as he heard other military parents were. It wasn’t a pleasant stereotype. Doug gave him the address, Tarken Heights was about sixty miles from Washington D.C., and he told the general he’d be back on duty at eight if he had any questions. After thanking him, the general disconnected.
Not surprising
.
Someone as important as a general couldn’t just walk away
.

With his daily duty finished, Doug signed the file and placed it back in the appropriate slot. While their filing system was rather outdated
—a nurse would transcribe the notes in the morning—their patient care was not. Doug closed his office door behind him and went to find the evening doctor.

Chapter 6

“This was the world in which we originated from.”
Tanok stood off to the side, allowing Franklin to see it.

Their view was from orbit but he could see every detail and feature on the people’s faces. The cities were orderly and clean, no one ran from place to place in a hurry to go nowhere. Even the cylindrical spacecraft and smaller transportation craft traveled at unbelievable, yet not hurried
, speeds. Franklin stared at everything in wild amazement. He never dreamed of something so orderly and un-chaotic. The closest example he could think of was
Star Trek
, but even that paled in comparison to what he was witnessing.

While the cities on the planet’s
surface astounded him, he marveled at the sight of floating cities thousands of feet above the surface. Built in rectangular or oval shapes, each city was at least four times as large as New York. “What… are those?” He thought for sure they were in his imagination.

Tanok nodded, his face held a whimsical expression.
“Our answer to over-population. Instead of destroying our planet’s life forms by building, we simply moved into cloud cities.”

“You simply do what?” Try as he might, Franklin couldn’t understand the scientific principles behind such things.

Tanok looked at him.
“I am sorry. I cannot explain it in simpler terms.”

Franklin stared back, he knew the man wasn’t lying but could he believe him
and
his own eyes?

“You are not insane, Franklin. We share a greater understanding those on your world won’t achieve for a thousand years.”

Franklin watched Tanok for a moment until he realized what he was being told. “We’re a colony.”

Tanok nodded
.
“You understand now.”

No, but I’m beginning to
. Franklin looked back toward the planet and the peaceful existence the people enjoyed. “Will we be like them?”

Tanok didn’t smile or nod, all emotion left his face before he spoke.
“That is why I am here.”

“To help?”

“Yes.”

A brilliant white light engulfed Franklin. “No! Not now! Not again!” His cries went unanswered as the light swallowed everything
, including himself.

He opened his eyes to find he was staring at the ceiling of the hospital. Once more
, there was no pain aside that which was caused from being ripped from such a peaceful place. The mental agony, similar to what people feel when someone dies, burned behind his eyes. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor brought the harshness of the world back to him. Sobbing, he turned onto his side and hugged his pillow tight.

The morning sun broke through the curtains into the white and cream colored walls of the hospital room. In many ways, the combination of coloring and light gave the room a depressing aura. If the patient in room 136 cared about such things any more
, there would be cause to worry. By the time the sun broke the horizon, Franklin had other things to be depressed about. In the course of a few hours his life and the world around him had changed. He wondered if it was for the better.

*****

The same sun filled Janice’s bedroom with a soft glow that warmed and welcomed her to a new day. She extended her arms over her head and stretched, letting out a groan of pleasure.

“Do you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep.” Horace’s muffled voice found its way through the thick down pillow. He was beside her with his face buried as deep into his pillow as possible.

She couldn’t help but smile at the side of Horace’s head. She had the feeling he was somehow watching her. “Don’t be so lazy. Maybe you shouldn’t have been up so late.”

He lifted his head from his temporary hiding place and glanced at her. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “That’s because I was already half asleep.”

“Oh! You…” He tried to hit her with his pillow but she rolled out of bed too fast.

In a matter of seconds, she was across the room, standing by the bathroom. She stopped by the door long enough to stick out her tongue. “Would you mind feeding Buster?” Laughing, she closed the door before the pillow struck it.

Defeated, Horace slid out of bed and started getting dressed. Buster heard them and started barking for his food and attention. At least the day was starting better than the previous one. It only took him a couple of minutes to finish putting on his
day-old clothing and make his way down the narrow hall. He paused at the first door to his left, which led to the apartment’s second bedroom, where Buster was locked in at night.

Horace paused
, listening to the sounds of her dog sniffing and whining. Buster knew they were awake and he wanted to come out and join them. Picturing the lab waiting impatiently with his ears raised and tongue hanging out caused him to smile. He resigned himself to the fate of being licked and begged for attention until Janice came out of the bathroom.

As soon as the door opened
, Buster did what Horace expected. Even being so small, Buster was able to push him back half a step when he propped his front paws on him and started licking Horace’s hands. Horace rubbed Buster’s ears, but the puppy wanted his mistress. Smiling and shaking his head, Horace went into the room and picked up the half empty water bowl. He thought it strange to leave Buster’s water bowl in the room with him at night. If he made a mess it’d stain the carpet and Janice would have to pay to have it cleaned. In answer, she put papers down for him to use. Buster was her dog, so he just shook his head and let the matter drop.

By the time he finished rinsing out the bowl and refilled it, Janice entered the living room/kitchen in jeans and a
loose-fitting sweater while drying her hair. Buster playfully chased at her heels, sometimes crossing in front of her. Had he been a cat, Horace was sure he would’ve tripped her.

“You didn’t feed him yet?” She stood with her head down as she continued with her hair.

Horace stared at her. “It’s not my fault he chose you over food.”

“Oh really?” Finished, she lifted her head, tossing her hair back. “So you wouldn’t make the same choice?”

He recognized her coy expression for what it was. “Not if we’re talking about a steak.” She punched him in the arm. He was still amazed at the quickness and strength she had in such a small frame. “Ow.”

“Keep it up
, mister, and I’ll let Buster take care of you.” At the mention of his name, Buster lifted his head from his empty food bowl and looked at her, wagging his tail. He knew he should be eating, but his food wasn’t out yet. Despite his best efforts to locate the food, he was forced to wait.

Janice couldn’t help but smile at him
. “Maybe after breakfast.” Horace laughed, but Buster’s tail began wagging at hearing the B word. While Buster enjoyed his canned turkey and giblets, Janice and Horace sat down to uneventful bowls of cereal. Whenever he watched the puppy eat, Horace was astounded the dog tasted anything.
Oh well.
He settled in to enjoy his breakfast.

*****

Stephen Drake’s morning began as normal as possible in his house. The day before, his father lit into him like there was no tomorrow and left to look at the accident site with his friend Jerry and the sheriff. It was the usual torrent one would expect from an insurance agent-turned-father. “Why weren’t you paying attention? You know how much this’ll cost me? You’re lucky you still have your license.” And the always popular, “Do you understand how lucky you are you didn’t kill someone?”

Of course, there were other comments not befitting insurance agent or father. “How could you be so stupid? One mistake and I’m still stuck with you. You’re worse than a fuck up.” Through it all, Steve handled himself well. He planned
on arguing back at first, but changed his mind after seeing the murderous look in his father’s eyes. Instead he sat there, nodding and responding only when he was expected to. He knew his father had a temper, but it never carried into the next day. He was adamant to make peace before they went to sleep or their separate ways in case the unthinkable happened. Steve thought he did so only to clear his own conscience..

Steve woke at about nine
, when the rays of the sun shot through his bedroom window and settled on the head of his bed. Not a believer in alarm clocks, he relied on the bright morning sun to wake him. Of course, that also led to him being late for classes on an overcast morning. Considering such an event was a regular occurrence during winter, it was a mild surprise he never flunked out of school. His father’s hefty tuition to Tarken Heights booster club saw to that while Horace’s constant tutoring kept him in the community college.

When the bright light settled on his face
, he twitched for a minute before opening his eyes. Morning wasn’t his favorite time of day. Steve struggled with himself for a few minutes; the decision to stay in bed was nearly overwhelming. It was a fight he was destined to lose.

Throwing off his covers, Steve slid his bare legs over until his feet touched the floor. The feel of the cool fibers beginning to warm at his touch sent the usual sensations coursing through him. While invigorating, the softness brought back memories of his blanket and bed. Irritated, he pushed the thought away and pushed himself onto his feet and stumbled
toward the bathroom.

Once finished, Steve began the descent to the first floor and his father. No sooner did Steve’s foot hit the bottom step than he heard his father calling for him. “Stevie? Come on in here
, Son.”

Oh great! Another lecture coming my way
. Steve’s face twisted into a grimace at the thought of catching more hell. He started to wonder if his dad planned on carrying their arguments over and, if so, why’d he have to start today. Those thoughts and more worked their way through his mind as he turned right at the bottom of the stairs, then left, into his dad’s study/office. The sound his steps made on the hardwood floor didn’t come close to matching the beats from his racing heart. Resigned once more to his fate, Steve stepped into his dad’s study and froze. This was the last thing he expected.

Fulton
Henry Drake sat behind his expensive and oversized hickory desk with a cigar clamped between his teeth smiling so wide Steve was surprised the top of his head didn’t fall off. “Come in, have a seat.” He motioned to the pair of chairs in front of his desk.

“Yeah
, Dad?” Steve’s voice was at its usual pitch, no need in letting the old man know he suspected a turn away from the norm. No sooner had he sat down than Steve regretted it. The chairs were solid oak without a cushion or comfortable fiber in their design. Similar to the chairs one often found in high school libraries where they still thought they could head off the self destructive paths teenagers chose. His father was one to never allow others to have comfort. In many cases the “others” were Steve or one of his friends his father wanted to lecture. Steve always thought his father kept the comfortable chairs at his actual office off route ten just to torture him. Lord, how he hated those damn chairs.

Unaware of his son’s discomfort, or aware enough to be proud, Fulton began. “Son, I have some wonderful news.”

Oh
? Realizing he wasn‘t going to be punished Steve, brightened at once. “What’s that, Dad?”

Fulton’s smile broadened, if that was possible. “After the hassle from yesterday
, I called around to a few clients and I got you a job.”

A what?
Steve felt the color bleed from his face. At no time had he ever been told to get a job. He always thought his father would pay him to stay out of the way. It took some time until he was able to speak again, but Fulton beat him to it.

“I knew you’d be as excited as I am. The best thing
, Son… you get to work with the government. How about them apples?”

“A job?”
It took numerous attempts, but finally Steve managed to find his voice. “But… what about school?”

Some of the luster left Fulton’s face
, but the smile remained. “I didn’t say nothing against school. You’ll still go and work on your free days.” He paused to chew on his cigar before continuing, “Son, you need to start learning to fend for yourself. I thought you’d grow up if I let you be, but…” His voice trailed off.

Fury rose in Steve
, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. His father’s mind was made up and Fulton Drake never went back on his word. Besides, he knew his father was right. Until then he’d been a fat and lazy SOB. He had hoped judgment day would’ve waited a little longer. With his mind conceding defeat, Steve raised his eyes to his father’s. “What kind of job?” For the first time in as long as he could remember, Steve saw his father’s eyes shine with pride. He only wished he deserved to share the feeling.