The Dark Inside (A Human Element) Page 2

  "It's what Brahm is. A weakling. He'll never survive the mission. Just like our other brother. A waste of a ship we've readied for so long. A waste of all the energy we've directed into operating that ship instead of our daily lives." He looked directly at Caleb. "Just like writing poems is a waste of time. There is more important work to be done here. The strong must lead us into a new energy age before our world dies out. Who's going to do that? You, Theresa? You, Caleb? Your face bears new marks–you are not ready to win such a battle."

  He shoved his chair back and paced along the fire. Caleb hated him more than ever. His father hadn't even cried at his own father's death ceremony, but Uncle Brahm did. His uncle had heart, and was more a father to him than his own. How he wanted to go with him to Earth–but he knew his mother would never allow it. How jealous his father would be. The thought filled him with a sweet gladness.

  "I'm leaving early in the morning for my sister's," Caleb's mother said, breaking the thick silence between them. "She's sick again."

  "Then you must go," his father said, turning from the fire to look at her.

  "I'll be gone a few days at the most. There's food in the cellar."

  "Mother, I can go with you too."

  "Good idea, take Caleb. He's good at women's work."

  Caleb gritted his teeth and ignored his father. Despair at being alone with his father sunk in quick. He looked at his mother, but she shook her head.

  "You need to be in school. Don't you have an exam this week?"

  "Yes, but–"

  "You must stay," she said gently. "I will take the main transport–"

  "But that's two miles away through the wooded path in the dark hours."

  "I have no choice. It's the only transport running at that time."

  "Father, can't you take her?"

  "The power cells are dead on my vehicle and I'm working the midnight shift again. There are blackouts everywhere and it's only getting worse. They say an ice age is coming. If we don't find a solution we're all dead soon enough." He frowned at Caleb as if it were his fault their world was coming to an end. "I'm off to rest."

  His father left the room and his mother served Caleb a bowl of stew.

  She pushed him down in a chair and pointed at his bowl. "Eat. It seems you have a busy day tomorrow now with school and helping Uncle Brahm."

  Caleb nodded, playing with his stew. His rumbling stomach called to eat but his heart didn't want to answer. His mother stroked his hair and bent to kiss his cheek. Her warmth and love moved into him. "I won't be gone long. Listen to your father and please, try not to fight."

  He nodded again.

  "I'll miss you, darling."

  "Me too." His words came out a whisper.

  And he gulped down his stew. He needed it to be strong for Earth, even if only in his dreams.

  * * *

  Caleb stared at Serah while she got books out of her locker. It was a rare moment that no one from the popular crowd was with her. She swung her glossy hair over her shoulder as she stuffed books into her backpack. He imagined moving silently up behind her and sifting his hands through her silky waterfall, drowning in her scent. If he was going to approach her, he had to do it now before he lost all nerve.

  "Serah?"

  She turned with a smile then it faded. "Nice bruises." She turned back to her locker.

  "I was keeping them for a science experiment." He tried not to stammer, but his tongue stuck to the bottom of his mouth.

  She slammed her locker shut and faced him again. "Really? You're not like the other morons who like to beat each other up to look cool?"

  "No way." He looked down into her eyes. They were so green, like the soft grass he imagined once grew here from a brilliant sun. He saw her lying down in all that lushness as he kissed her over and over. "I-I may be going on the new world mission with my aunt and uncle. I didn't heal myself because I wanted to see how long my body would be affected by an injury."

  She frowned at him and pursed her full lips he wanted so badly to kiss. "Why?"

  "To see what it feels like to be different, like a new race I will meet soon and–"

  "Maybe."

  "Right." He shrugged and looked down. When he looked up again, she was smiling.

  "I thought you were like those other athletes. Maybe I was wrong."

  "Maybe."

  She laughed, dazzling him with those white teeth. "Right."

  He took a deep breath. "Would you like to get together, sometime?"

  The bell for class rang. She slung her bag over her shoulder and tilted her head up at him. "If you get on that mission, Caleb, I'll go out with you."

  She flashed him one last smile and ran off to class before he could even close his mouth that was hanging open. Idiot! But she had said yes. His heart soared.

  His only way of winning Serah was to get on that mission. It occurred to him that accomplishing this meant he would never see her again. That would be all right with him.

  One kiss and one night with her would sustain him for a lifetime on another world.

  * * *

  Caleb knocked on Uncle Brahm's house after school. His uncle greeted him with a wide smile on his round face and pulled him into a big hug. His uncle's hair was white like his father's, but all over the place–like his scientific inventions.

  "My boy! Manta and I are off. Starting a new path for our world to follow."

  "I'm happy for you. Everything will work out on the mission, right?" Caleb was sorry the moment he asked.

  His uncle's smile faded. "My brother's crash was over twenty-five years ago. He was just a young man, just out of youth-hood. Like I was once." He paused and shook his head as if reliving that time. "But we have new technology now."

  "I know."

  "I often wonder if your father's twin had survived that crash, would your father be different."

  "Not likely. He was born the way he is."

  His uncle shook his head and looked down. "No, he was much softer in his youth. We were brothers and friends then…"

  "I didn't mean to make you sad."

  His uncle looked up, his smile came back. "You could never make me sad, son."

  Caleb was desperate to move on from talk of his father. "So, taking any volunteers?"

  "Aha, I don't think your mother would take to that very well."

  "Or my father."

  "Yes, nor him."

  "Will you think about it though?"

  "I'm sorry, Caleb. The team overseeing the launch has decided to draw a lottery to take more travelers. A mix of male and female."

  Dizziness engulfed Caleb as he fantasized about two of them being him and Serah. "If I got my name in the lottery I'd still have a chance."

  "Our family cannot participate in the lottery, as Manta and I are already going. I'm truly sorry."

  Caleb's cheeks burned. How could he impress Serah now and escape this world? It was hopeless. He swallowed his frustration and anger. It wasn't his uncle's fault. "Why isn't Aunt Manta helping you get ready?"

  "She's at the main laboratory. We have weeks of preparation ahead. She left me in charge of readying our equipment here for the ship. She knows it's my area. Hers is directing."

  "And mine is helping. Can I take a tour of the ship?"

  "We'll see."

  "I don't want you to go, Uncle Brahm."

  "You'll be the first one I send a message to when we arrive and I'll watch over you from afar."

  Caleb nodded. Unlike my dad, up close.

  "Come, Caleb. No time for sadness. For now, we must work! And you must read me some new poetry while we do."

  Caleb pulled his notepad out, eager to share his words with another poet. If he couldn't share it with Serah, he could share it here.

  And the following day his uncle's presence helped soothe the hurt of her rejection. When Serah asked if he had gotten accepted to the mission he had to tell her the truth. He hoped she would feel sorry for him and date him anyways, but when he told her he was
n't going she questioned if he ever had the chance to go. He tried to tell her it wasn't a lie (it wasn't, right? He had wanted to go). But she didn't believe it, said he just wanted a piece of her like all the other boys. He grabbed her hand eager to convince her otherwise–glimpsed her pure soul within and desired her even more–but she shoved him off and walked away. He watched her go, taking his love and self-respect with her. She remained unattainable.

  All he had to look forward to now each day was readying his uncle's mission and sharing his poetry, the comforting bond that drew them close. They continued this way all week, as Caleb spent hours after school with his uncle amongst machinery and manuals. When his uncle needed to free his mind to figure out a mechanical problem, he would tend to his roses in his greenhouse while Caleb's poems floated in the air. They were special roses his uncle had bred to grow in low light, pale, and sweet smelling. They seemed of another world, not this one Caleb was forced to suffer on. He didn't want to go home. Each day he stayed longer and longer, living in his uncle's world. A world he wanted. He daydreamed about his mother and Uncle Brahm being together. What a perfect family they would be. All kindred souls.

  Every night he returned home a faint rose scent permeated the house. It must have clung to him from his uncle's rose bushes. It drifted around him like a sweet song that these walls had never known. Each day he hoped to see his mother bustling about in the kitchen. Instead, the house was dark and the fire out. His father already in bed resting between his double shifts–for that he was glad. He ate cold dinners at the table, wishing away the energy rationing so his mother could call on the receiver to talk.

  The fourth day he knocked on Uncle Brahm's door but was met with a note that his uncle needed to travel to another town for ship supplies and wouldn't be able to work with him today. Disappointment fell on Caleb. He wanted to go. Why hadn't his uncle waited for him? He slowly walked home then it occurred to him that his mother might have returned. He ran the rest of the way and barged in the door. The kitchen was empty as usual.

  He dropped his bag on the floor and was about to grab a snack when a cry pierced the air. He stopped, unsure if he imagined it or not. Then it called again.

  And a moan. A thwack followed with a shriek. It came from above. Goosebumps prickled along his arms. His mother? He climbed the steps upstairs two at a time, silent in his footfalls.

  Thwack.

  More moans. Something stirred in Caleb's groin.

  He eased open his parent's bedroom door. Aunt Manta was on her knees, naked. And his father was plunging his giant staff between her legs, slapping her buttocks with a leather whip.

  Thwack.

  Caleb couldn't move. He felt himself grow hard, despite his horror, as his aunt's breasts swayed from the force of his father slapping up against her. With each lash of the whip, she shrieked and then moaned, pushing deeper back into his father. She was enjoying it.

  His father strained with his release, as he clutched his aunt's hips pumping into her.

  "Father!" Caleb's voice finally found him.

  Aunt Manta and his father turned to look at him, their faces open-mouthed with ecstasy and shock.

  "Caleb!" His father withdrew and stood up.

  But Caleb turned and ran back down the stairs. He ripped open the door and raced to the woods. Roses. That's why the house smelled like roses. Uncle Brahm made Aunt Manta perfume from his rose garden. Each night he was with his uncle his father had been plundering his brother's wife.

  Caleb stopped to clutch his stomach and retched. The woods were silent except for his sickening sounds. When was his mother coming home? He needed her but what would he tell her? And Uncle Brahm? Jealous of Brahm's good fortune, his father had ruined everything. He stumbled on through a cold rain, heading for his hideaway.

  He reached the well. A giant hole breached the brush he had last used to cover it. He shoved the branches aside and climbed down into his sanctuary, wary that some animal might be poised to greet him. Halfway down he paused, but sensed no movement. Heard no sound. The comforting dark reached up for him, and he longed to enter its embrace.

  His foot reached the floor but didn't touch hard stone. He landed on something soft. He lost his balance and fell back, cracking his head on the side of the well.

  He lay crumpled at the bottom, waiting for the pain to recede. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, a face stared back at him. Not the bright eyes of an animal. Not the hazy, unbidden memory of a chained boy. Eyes he recognized, yet so different now drained of life. His mother's.

  Caleb screamed and slammed back into the wall. Her head lolled to one side and her leg, stuck out at a crooked angle, lay on her travel bag. She leaned up against the wall as if someone had propped her there.

  Why had she insisted on leaving alone? He should have walked with her. He knew these woods better than she did. She must have wandered off the path in the dark and fallen into the brush. He never should have covered the opening so carelessly. He should have told someone about the danger and had it sealed.

  This was his fault. His own, dear mother's loss–all his fault.

  Or was it?

  Crying, he touched her shoulder. Like frozen wood. "Mother?" It echoed up the dank walls.

  She didn't answer. He placed his hands on her stiff body and closed his eyes, willing her back to life with his healing power. Please come back. You're all I have now. Please! Sweat painted the skin above his lips, formed on his brow; still he harnessed his power to bring her back. His love for her rushed through his veins driven by memories, but her memories were long gone and he could not unblock them. She remained silent and still. She had been dead far too long to work his power. Shaking, he undid her bun and gently placed her raven hair around her shoulders. Now she was beautiful again, even in death.

  He smashed his fist against the damp rock. It bit into his hands. He didn't know how to deal with this–he was only a teenager, he shouldn't have to. With weak hands and a heavy heart, he started to climb. Father!

  Had the word flown from his mouth? It couldn't have, the sound had no echo. He looked back down and instead of his mother; he once again saw the vision. The boy in the well–he was the one who'd screamed. Don't leave me here, Father. Please! And even though he was looking down into the pit of the well, Caleb saw a gray figure loom over the opening to speak to the boy. You must suffer for being weak, it said. No son of mine shall be weak. The figure swirled away.

  "Go away. I don't want to see you anymore." Caleb reached the top and clung to the last rung, trembling with grief. He had nowhere to go.

  Beneath him he heard the boy crying. Above him, he heard movement in the brush. He looked up–into his own father's face. How could he know his hiding place?

  And Caleb knew.

  His father was that boy from long ago. And his father had chained him in this well as punishment for being weak. Uncle Brahm had said Caleb's father was soft once. Caleb believed it now, but his grandfather had tortured that softness away. An ache of sadness for his father rose inside him through his overwhelming grief. Perhaps his father had only wanted his own father's love and respect too.

  Caleb held tight to the rung and wept, his loss spilling over.

  "Caleb, come up." His father held his hand out. "We can work this out."

  Caleb shook his head. How could it work out with his mother dead below him and his father an adulterer? Sobs engulfed him as he hung on to the wet rock. The rain fell faster.

  "I need you, son."

  "You don't need anyone!" Caleb was ashamed of his tears but unable to stop them.

  The weakness in his father's voice pierced his dying heart. "But I do."

  Caleb was frozen between two worlds of horror as he hung over his mother's corpse, shrouded in darkness, and faced his dominating father who he thought he hated–and who hated him.

  "We can start over. Maybe not here. Somewhere else."

  "No. No!" Tremors ran through him as his anxiety grew.

  "I know what your dr
eams are, Caleb. We can follow them together."

  "You don't know me!"

  "We are much alike."

  "I'll never be like you." He sobbed harder.

  "You'll see in time. Trust me."

  "My mother couldn't trust you." It came out a whisper as his strength faded. He could just let go, have the same fate as his mother. He saw them both laying peacefully together in the dark. Then he could escape this dying world that offered him nothing.

  "I'm sorry for what you saw. I was wrong…about many things. Now, come."

  Caleb's sanctuary had been his father's prison as a child–and now his mother's grave. Her death was an accident, right? It had to be. His father couldn't have done what he dared not think. They were connected now to this well in pain, and to each other. His father confessed to being wrong. People who confessed didn't murder, did they?

  He didn't want to need anyone. But everyone needed someone. Even his father.

  Serah was gone. His mother was gone. Soon Uncle Brahm would be gone.

  And Caleb took the hand offered.

  It was all he had now.

  The First Time

  X-10

  It would be his first time.

  Not for killing. That was a known pleasure. For the pleasure of a human female. Dr. Bjord had promised him one as a reward for good behavior. X-10 knew it was just another of the doctor's experiments. He only hoped this one wouldn't be as painful.

  He stared at himself in the small mirror that leaned on the built-in shelf of his concrete walls. He did not look like the human doctor. X-10's nostrils flared wide below his flattened nose. His cheeks were bulbous. His eyes yellow. Would he terrify this female? He flexed his arms. At eighteen they bulged out like many of the cartoon super heroes he read about. Comics were another treat Dr. Bjord bestowed on him. They also got taken away when he wouldn't submit to testing. But the one thing he wanted most of all he would never get. A name.

  Like Charlie. Good guy characters had that name. Charlie Bucket. Charlie Brown. And especially Charlie Gordon in Flowers for Algernon. That's who he could pretend to be for the female: Good Guy Charlie. Someday, after he killed the decrepit doctor, he would claim a name. But not today. Today was for a different pleasure.