Anamnesis ©
Chapter Ten
By Fiction Writer #13

( nosex, sci-fi, horror, paranormal)

"Uncle Joe!" Called Greg as he pushed open the back door. "Put some pants on, I have company!"

The kitchen they entered into was a mess.  Pots and pans filled the sink, empty pizza boxes were strewn about, trash spilled out of a trashcan that should have been taken out a week ago, and half crushed beer cans seemed to occupy any available space they could find.

"Sorry about the mess.  We were supposed to clean up yesterday, but my Uncle had some sort of an accident at work."

Rob picked his way past some sticky spots on the worn tile floor. "We're not intruding, are we?"

"Nah.  He's fine.  The doctors said he had heat stroke or something." Greg pulled out two chipped wooden chairs from the table and quickly brushed the seats clean of crumbs. "The guys down at the garage were pretty freaked out though.  They said he was speaking in tongues or some shit.  Kept saying 'He is coming' before he passed out.  Weird, huh?"

Rob and Steph took the offered seats, though Steph wiped hers down with the cleanest dishtowel she could find before sitting.

"I better go check on him.  He wasn't expecting me home so early, so he might be wackin' off in the living room." Greg shuddered. "That's why I always use the back door.  I won't make that mistake ever again.

"I'll be right back, make yourselves at home." Greg headed off down the hallway. "Uncle Joe, I'm comin' in, so hide your shame while you still can!"

From somewhere else in the home, a gruff voice responded. "Screw you college boy!  I can pull my pud whenever I damn well feel in my own home."

"You ignorant hillbilly, I have company over for Christ's sake!"

"Is she cute?  Maybe I should get a crack at 'er first, not like you'd know what to do."

"Oh, that's it you dirty prick, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

A loud crash, the sound of furniture tipping over, empty beer cans being kicked, and a violent struggle echoed into the kitchen from down the hall.

"Robbie," Steph leaned over the table, being careful of the puddle of spilt coffee. "Do you think we should leave?"

The distant voices argued for a moment, but soon laughter could be heard over the boisterous wrestling.

Rob smiled. "I think they were just joking with each other."

The laughing and fighting continued until the sound of glass breaking suddenly brought it to an end.

"Aww, damn it boy!  You broke the fuckin' lamp!"

"Me?  You're the one who kicked it, you dumb fuck."

"Alright, alright sissy-boy... enough of this.  You win, now let me up before I have another stroke."

It was quiet for a moment before Greg called them. "You guys can come in now.  He's decent."

Steph and Rob stood and pushed their chairs back under the table before apprehensively walking down the hallway to the living room, which was in complete chaos.  Bags of snack food lay open and spread out everywhere, as did a few empty cereal bowls.  They found Greg kneeling on the hardwood floor with a dustpan and brush, scooping up what remained of the busted light bulb.  His Uncle Joe stood nearby, hoisting a tall floor lamp back into place.

Greg's Uncle was nothing like they had imagined.  Instead of a man wearing a stained wife beater T-shirt that didn't quite hide the large beer belly underneath, they found a man in his mid thirties, clean shaven and in shape, who wore a sparkling white dress shirt with Khaki pants and brown leather shoes.  He looked more like a man about to go to the office rather than the man they had heard wrestling around with Greg.

"Robbie, Steph, this is my red-neck Uncle Joe.  Joe, this is Rob and Steph, a couple of friends from back in Highland."

Joe finished adjusting the lampshade before smiling and shaking their hands with a firm grip. "Nice to meet the two of you.  Sorry about the mess in the kitchen, we haven't gotten around to cleaning up after last week's poker game."

"That reminds me." Greg dumped the contents of the pan into a small trashcan. "You still owe me."

"I'll just take it out of the rent you owe me."

Joe smiled at Stephanie with a look of confusion on his face. "Have we ever met before?"

The way he was looking at her made her feel uncomfortable. "I... I don't think so."

"Hmm... It's the damnedest thing.  I swear I've seen you around somewhere before, but I can't quite figure out where."

Greg came to her rescue. "We used to date.  You probably saw her picture in my room during one of your raids on my stash."

Joe blushed a bit. "Hey, what did I tell you about talking about that stuff in front of people."

"It's okay, these two are cool.  Your secret is safe." Greg nudged his Uncle with an elbow. "Awfully paranoid, aren't you.  Are you high right now?"

"A little.  I smoked up about an hour ago." He turned to Rob and Steph. "You two want to get fired up?"

Both of them declined with a headshake.

"Always polite to ask." He smiled and stooped down to pick up a large green glass bong, which had tipped over onto a throw rug. "Aww, damn it Greg.  You got shit all over the carpet!"

"Whatever, Joe.  I think that shit is really starting to fuck with your memory.  You threw it at me."

"And you didn't catch it!" Joe opened a drawer on a side table by the couch and placed the bong inside. "That's going to leave one hell of a stain."

Finished with his part of the clean up, Greg motioned for Steph and Rob to take a seat on the couch. "Hey Joe, why are you all dressed up?  The doc said you shouldn't be driving, at least not until the test results come back."

"Fuckin' doctors, they don't know shit!" Joe flopped down into a large cushioned chair. "I feel fine; better than fine, actually.  If I let those morons run the shop I'll go out of business in a week."

Greg turned to Steph. "My Uncle owns a custom body shop."

"Best damned shop in New York State!" Joe declared from his seat. "We turn factory cars into works of art."

"So when are you going to get around to fixing my piece of shit.  It's over-heating again."

"I'll get around to it when you can pay for the work!  Nothin's free in this world; you better learn that before you get out to the big city.  N-Y-C," Joe shook his head, "That town is going to eat you up and spit you out if you don't grow some balls.  Lot's of strange shit there, strangest shit I ever did see."

"Joe lived there up until 911," explained Greg. "Hasn't been back since."

"I didn't leave because of those damned terrorists, you little prick.  I left because, well, because the scene changed.  The weirdoes were always there, but after 911, I don't know, it just seemed like they were everywhere." Joe unconsciously began to scratch an imagined itch on his forearm, pulling the sleeve up enough for Rob to notice the odd black tribal tattoos hidden beneath. "The freaks that only came out at night started comin' out durin' the day." Joe chuckled. "That an' my favorite bar closed."

Joe leaned over in his seat trying to see something on the other side of the room. "Hey kid, what time does that clock say?"

Robbie read the small desk clock on the shelf above a fish tank. "Uh... it's almost eleven."

"Damn weed," Joe huffed as he pulled himself out of the chair. "I wanted to get to the shop before the guys decided to take an early lunch.  While I'm gone, why don't you start cleaning up the kitchen."

"Hey, I said I'd help you clean up your mess.  I didn't say I'd do it for you." Greg took over the just emptied seat. "Besides, I have guests."

"Fine, I'll do it when I get back tonight.  Oh, damn, I almost forgot.  Your realtor called.  The tenants in your apartment cleared out early, so if you got the security deposit you can start moving in early."

"That's fucking awesome!" Greg leapt out of the chair. "You ain't fucking with me, are you?"

"Nope, it's on the machine if you don't believe me.  You can pick up the keys when you drop off the check." Joe headed for the front door but stopped before leaving the house. "It was nice to meet the both of you.  If you ever need some work done on your car, come to my shop and I'll give you a discount."

He smiled warmly before leaving.

"He seems nice," said Steph as Greg practically ran up the stairs to the answering machine to listen to his message.

"Yeah, he's cool," Greg called over his shoulder.  "I'll be right back.  The remote should be somewhere on the couch if you want to watch TV."

Rob found it between the cushions, along with four pennies and a pizza crust.  The TV came on with a pop and a hiss, the volume up before the picture had a chance to appear.

"We're continuing to get updates on the breaking developments in North Korea.  Early reports of explosions and gunfire in the capital city of Pyongyang have been confirmed in an unprecedented sharing of information between the news networks of North and South Korea.  Equally surprising, the long defended DMZ seems to be undergoing some kind of change in authority.  Citizens of the north have been gathering on the border for almost three hours now in numbers too large to count.  Soldiers defending the border have been allowing anyone who arrives to cross into the south unmolested.

"Okay, I'm getting word now that we have CNN correspondent, Arissa Ching, on the phone from Panmunjom." The picture on the TV screen splits to show the blonde anchorwoman on one side and a photo of a Korean woman on the other.  Below both images, bold white text scrolls across the bottom of the screen stating 'Sixty-year war may be over after military coup.  Border defenses breaking down.  No word yet on condition of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il.'

"Arissa, are you there, can you hear us back in the studio?"

"I can hear you Lisa." The voice on the phone answers after a short time delay. "Can you hear me?"

"We can hear you just fine.  Can you describe for us what you are witnessing?"

"Lisa, I'm having a difficult time trying to find words to convey the impact of what is happening here at the border.  It's somewhat reminiscent of the fall of the Berlin Wall, with family and friends from both sides meeting in a place where just a few hours ago they would have been shot for trespassing.  Unlike that joyous time back in nineteen eighty-nine, the mood here is rather subdued.  It's as if everyone gathered is unsure whether or not this is reality, or some dream that no one wishes to wake from."

Rob changed channels, cycling through at least two dozen before switching the television off. "It's on every channel."

Steph sighed before leaning back against the arm of the couch. "It's dirty here, but at least the couch is comfy."

"I wonder why Greg kept calling his Uncle a red-neck.  He didn't seem like one to me."

"It's a little joke between us," Greg answered as he bounded down the stairs carrying a black binder. "A difference of opinion.  He likes NASCAR and professional wrestling, so I call him a hillbilly.  I graduated high school in the top ten of my class and know how to dress myself, so he calls me a sissy college boy.  It's all in good fun, though.  He knows I could kick his ass if I wanted to."

Greg motioned for Rob and Steph to give him some space between them before taking a seat. "Thought you two would want to see this for yourselves.  I don't know why I kept all of this, but, well, I guess I was just trying to make sense of everything."

Steph leaned over as Greg opened the book. "What is it?"

"Everything I could gather after the fire." As he spoke he began to slowly flip through the pages he had put together. "News clippings, obits, stuff from our relationship, I even managed to sneak over to what was left of your house before it was torn down and found some pictures that made it through the fire."

Rob and Steph looked on in disbelief as scenes from a life they had no knowledge of were revealed to them in bits and pieces.  Pictures of Steph dressed in a black and burgundy gown, holding a corsage of roses next to an uncomfortable looking Greg dressed in a black tuxedo, both in front of a blue house.  A news clipping dated from the previous year, its headline: Entire Family Dead In Explosion, almost as disturbing as the black and white photo of the still smoking remains of a home, it's ornate doorway twisted, but a match for the blue house.  Another clipping, this one from a high school newspaper, its bright goldenrod colored paper an odd contrast with the serious subject typed upon it: Students and Faculty Say Goodbye To Three Lost Classmates.  Yet another clipping, this one ripped from a page where the others had been neatly cut free with scissors: Highland Heights Tragedy, Crime of Passion?

Page after page of charred family photos came next.  Younger versions of the siblings stared back from the past, smiling with memories of a life foreign to them now.  It all seemed like a dream, or some cruel joke.  It was obviously them in the photos, but they had to be fakes, a cruel attempt at some kind of joke.  But who would go to such lengths?  Who would create an entire lifetime of memories and pictures?  Why?  Why would anyone want to?

"Stop!" Rob shouted a little louder than he had meant, but Greg was flipping too fast for him to absorb what he had just seen. "Go back one page."

Greg flipped back, and Rob's jaw dropped to the floor.

"That's... that's her."

Steph stared at the remains of the family photos, so burnt and discolored by water and fire damage it was difficult to make out what they showed.

"Who?"

"The little girl," Rob pointed a shaking finger at her, "The one from my dreams."

"That's Sarah." Greg peeled the plastic covering back to extract the tattered Polaroid. "Your sister."

Rob took the picture from Greg, held it up to the light, his hand trembling as his heart throbbed a tribal drumbeat in his ears. "Sarah."

"Oh God.  Urmp..." Steph lurched forward, her hand reflexively covering her mouth as all the color drained from her face. "I'm, I'm going to be..."

Greg didn't wait for her to finish.  He'd seen that look before, and in an instant was up and charging across the room to grab a wastebasket for her to use.

Rob barely noticed as his older sister wretched and sobbed.  As Greg held her hair out of the way, his focus remained on the photo, on the little girl he'd only seen in his mind for so long.  Now she was real, or at least she had been.  Maybe she really had died in a fire, but if the rest of his family hadn't, then maybe, just maybe... she was still out there.

"Qian!  We need that radio!" Jonathan yelled from the passenger seat of the wildly bouncing Humvee into the dark rear seats loaded with panting soldiers.

"Working on it!  Stop asking!" her annoyed voice called back. "It would be quicker if Speed Racer up there would slow down!"

"No fucking way, Qian." Pritchard's foot hadn't left the accelerator since he'd sat down in the seat.  His eyes strained into the dark night fixed upon the dirt road before him, a road illuminated by a single remaining headlight. "I slow down and we're all dead."

Jonathon spun around in his seat.  Directly behind him lay Guzman, still groaning despite the heavy dose of Morphine coursing through his system.  "How's he doing?"

"Not good," Ellis responded flatly. "He needs to get to a Med-Lab stat.  I can't help him here."

"We'll be in Aurora just as soon as we pick up Rico and Stewart.  Can you keep him stabilized until then?"

"It'll be touch and go, so don't stop for directions on the way."

Jon's eyes drifted further back to where the dim light of a pen flashlight held between Qian's teeth barely illuminated her stern face.  "Qian?"

The penlight dropped out of her mouth. "Fuck off Jon!  I'll tell you when it's done!"

"It's all my fault." A soft voice whimpered from a dark corner of the vehicle. "If I hadn't fallen..."

"Stop that shit right now, Jimmy!"

"But if he had just left me..."

"Shut the fuck up, Newbie!" Guzman growled as he tried to sit up, but Ellis held him down. "We don't leave men behind, ever.  When one of us is in trouble you don’t think, you just do.  Comprende?"

"Hang on!" Pritchard warned a split second before the Humvee suddenly swerved to the left and then to the right before going airborne and crashing to the ground with a violent bounce. "Jesus Christ!  How many of those things did they send out here?"

Jon eased back into his seat; the last jolt had sent him halfway into the back. "The better question is who sent them in the first place?"

"You mean, you don't think the Council did this?"

"No way, they don't use Para-Bios to do their dirty work.  Some other faction is trying to make its voice heard."

"Yeah, well, there are enough groups out there who would want to take what you have in your pocket right now, but I can't think of any of them who can control this many Zyrogoth.  Except for..."

"The Silver Circle has been defunct for going on eight years now.  It's not them."

"You sure about that Jon?"

"No... I'm not sure of anything anymore."

Jon's mind raced. 'The Silver Circle.  It can't be.  We wiped those scum out, erased them, no one left alive, and no trace of their existence left behind for anyone to find.  The Circle was broken.'

"Jon, you owe me a big fucking steak when we get home!" Qian called out. "And I want it in a real restaurant, not some dive!"

"You got it working?"

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"You're fucking amazing, Qian."

"No shit.  You just figured that out?"

Jon repressed a smile as he flipped the switch to power up the radio system. "Wombat One to Wombat Two.  Come in.  Do you copy?"

At first there was only static, but then a familiar, deep voice crackled through. "Wombat?  What the fuck is a Wombat?"

Jon sighed with relief. "Good to hear you're still with us Richardson.  How are you holding up?"

"We're all here, and about two minutes out of Alice Springs.  How about you?  We thought you bought the farm back there.  We were about to turn around for a rescue mission."

"I'm glad you didn't.  We're a little worse for wear, but still rolling.  We have one injured, and just got the radio back up thanks to Qian.  Sounds like you guys are ahead of us by a few miles.  What's the hostile situation up there?"

"Hostiles?  We haven't seen any since we broke camp."

Pritchard slammed on the breaks before swerving to the left to avoid two more Zyrogoth waiting in the road for them. "Bloody hell.  Guess it's just us they want."

Without thinking, Jon's hand instinctively dug into his pocket to hold the cold black stone in his palm. "No, it's not us they're after."

Richardson 's voice crackled through the radio. "What's the plan boss?"

"Hold on a second."

Jon slumped into his seat as Pritchard wildly swung the wheel to the right to avoid yet another Zyrogoth.  It would be impossible for his Humvee to stop and retrieve the other team members in Alice Springs, nor could he take on the other two super soldiers waiting for them at Aurora, not with an injured man in the back seat.

Jon held the radio to his lips. "Continue with the original plan.  Pick up our friends and the two guests, and then head for Aurora." 

"What about those two super pricks, won't they be waiting for us?"

"I'm counting on it." Jon's stern face suddenly broke into a sly smile. "We'll leave Aurora empty with the doors open.  You just be ready to pick a few fleas off our back when we return."

"You got it boss, we'll see you there," Richardson laughed. "Wombat two, out."

Jon turned to face the rear of the vehicle. "Qian."

"Yes Sir!"

"Think you can perform another miracle for me, beautiful?"

Qian grinned evilly. "Think you can afford lobster to go with that steak?"

"Robbie, I'm so sorry," Stephanie sobbed while curled up in a fetal position on the couch, her head resting in her brother's lap. "I... I don't think I can do this anymore."

Greg had run upstairs to find a clean blanket and something to settle Steph's stomach from the medicine cabinet, leaving the two of them alone.

Rob gently brushed hair away from her sweat drenched face. "I know, but... but now I don't know what to do.  I'm so close to finding out what's going on... but I can't let this hurt you anymore."

"I'm so sorry, Robbie.  I... I really wanted to help."

"I know you did.  It's okay Steph."

"No... It’s not.  You, you helped me last night.  You, you made me feel... so... so loved... after... after what... what she did to me.  I, I never felt so... so..."

"Shhh." Rob leaned over to kiss her forehead. "It's okay, you did help.  If you hadn't taken me this far, I never would have met Greg, never would have known that she's real and not just a dream.  I'd still be sitting in my room searching on the computer for answers."

"What do we do now?"

"Well, I don't know what's going on," called Greg as he came back down the stairs, "but you're welcome to stay with me until we figure it out.

"Here, sit up and drink some of this." Greg handed Steph a cup with a thick pink liquid inside. "It should help your stomach."

As Steph moved out of his lap to lean on Greg, Rob pulled the picture back out and stared into the blue eyes of the girl in the photo.

'So close.  I can feel it, I'm so close.'

"So," Greg interrupted Rob's thoughts, "where were you two heading before I stopped you?"

"Highland," Steph wrapped herself up in the heavy blanket Greg had brought, "For some convention thing that Rob wanted to go to."

Rob stuffed the picture into his pocket. "They're going to do some hypnosis thing there to help people remember repressed memories."

"You guys really don't remember anything?"

Rob nodded but Steph just shivered.

"So, where have you been all this time?"

"Living with our folks, out near Miflin."

"And it never occurred to any of you that something was wrong?"

"Nope, well, I mean... I did, but no one else did.  I don't know.  Everything seemed fine, but, at the same time, it... it just didn't.  I can't explain it."

Greg leaned back and put his arm around Steph, pulling her in close. "You think this hypnosis thing might help you fill in some of the blanks then?"

"That's the plan, or... at least it was," Rob sighed.

A long moment of silence passed over the room.

"Rob."

"Yeah Steph?"

"Why don't you go on to Highland without me?  I mean, if it's okay with Greg that I can stay here."

"That's fine by me," Greg answered quickly, too happy to hide his smile. "I said that it would be no problem.  Besides, I lost you once already; I'm never going to let you out of my sight again."

Now it was Steph's turn to smile, though most of her face was hidden behind the heavy comforter.

Rob still frowned. "That's all well and good, but, how am I getting there?"

Steph popped her head out of the blanket. "Take the car, silly."

"Yeah," chimed in Greg. "You're only about an hour away, and traffic should be fairly light around this time of day.  The city might be another story, though.  Everyone will be getting lunch."

"Are you two kidding?" Rob laughed. "I almost killed you earlier today!  What makes you think I could drive anywhere?"

"Relax, Rob." Steph reached out over Greg to place a hand on her brother's knee. "You'll do fine."

"I don't know." Rob shook his head. "What do I do when it's over?"

"Just drive back here," Greg offered. "I'll use the computer to print directions to the convention and back.  If you still get lost or into any trouble, just call my cell and we'll come get you."

Rob thought to himself for a tortured moment.  He really did want to continue on, but the thought of driving himself without his older sister by his side made his heart race and left his palms sweating.  In the process of deciding, his bottom lip found its way between his teeth to be chewed on.

"You really think I'll be okay?"

"Sure, Rob." Steph's grip on his knee grew tighter. "You need to do this, I know you do.  You were the one who figured out that something was happening when everyone else was just content with the way things were.  You kept at it even when Mom..." She cut her sentence short, catching herself at the last second before saying something in front of Greg that she didn't want to explain, but Rob understood. "You can do this Rob.  Someone like you can do anything."

Rob smiled at his sister's tender encouragement.

"Alright!" Greg announced as he stood up and made his way back upstairs. "I'll go print those directions, and then I'll drive you back to the diner's parking lot."

Rob waited until Greg was once again out of earshot.

"Are you going to be okay with him?"

"Yeah." Steph's eyes traveled up the steps where Greg had vanished. "I... I feel safe around him.  He seems to really care about me."

"He does." Rob gave his sister a hug from behind. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me get this far, and for believing me."

Steph leaned back into his arms. "I love you, baby bro."

"I love you too, Steph."