Awakening.

Parables From The Apocalypse.

Written by Norman Christof.

Welcome Back.

It hurts. Every fiber of my body hurts like h.e.l.l. What the frig happened to me, and why can't I remember a thing? d.a.m.n, everything hurts so much. It feels like I've been run over by a transport truck. I need to get up and open my eyes. Need to find some pain killers. This is just too much to take. Where the h.e.l.l am I? This feels so much like a dream. It's like one of those dreams where you're trying to get away from a pack of freaks, but your legs move slower the harder you try. The freaks are gaining, and there's nothing you can do to make your muscles move any faster. They've got a fifty-miles-per-hour tail wind, and your feet are moving through wet cement. I've got to get moving.

Chaz was lying flat out on his back. He tried to roll over, but his muscles wouldn't respond. He felt like something was pushing him back down. Why can't I roll over? Is this what it feels like to be paralyzed? Why can't I get up? I must just be disoriented. Who knows how long I've been lying here. Just take a minute, and collect yourself. You've obviously been through some sort of trauma. You just need to get more strength, then you'll be able to get up. Maybe something's broken-maybe I broke my back. Chaz tried wiggling his toes and his fingers. Well, that worked. I can move a little. My back can't be broken. I've seen guys paralyzed before, and they thought they could move their fingers and toes, but really they couldn't. It was all in their mind. Maybe this is just in my mind as well. Maybe I really am paralyzed. He tried tugging at his pants with his fingers. That worked, I could feel that in my legs. I could feel my pants rubbing against my legs. There, I must be alright, I could feel that. I just need to relax. Don't panic, Chaz, we're still here. We still have a chance. I don't know what the h.e.l.l is wrong or where I am, but if I still have a breath in me, I'm not beaten.

Think for a minute about what you can remember. If I can think about where I was last, maybe I'll figure out where I am now. That's the key here. Stop letting your mind play tricks on you, and focus on what you know. OK. Last thing I remember was getting the h.e.l.l out of Fort Knox with Christa and Alex. I remember fighting our way out. We had that psycho doctor as a hostage, and eventually we made it to the front door. That place was a freak show, what with Patient Zero carved up into tanks in the lab. That was too much. I remember all the freaks outside. When we got outside things got really crazy. At first all the freaks kept their distance. They didn't run, they hung back. They didn't want to, but it was like something was pushing them away. It had to have been Christa. She was keeping us safe. She kept them at bay. But then a few started coming closer. Not many, just a few of the braver ones. The ones that didn't seem quite so far gone. We fought them off for a while, but then I remember Christa didn't look so good. She'd been locked up in that lab for too long. They kept her alive but weak because they were afraid of her. Everything after that gets pretty foggy. Like a dream again. I remember fighting, but I think we got overwhelmed. I remember Alex fighting like a madman. He'd always do anything to protect the girl. h.e.l.l, for that matter, he'd have done anything to protect me. Not sure why.

Chaz tried rolling over again but with little success. He got further, but something kept holding him back. He tried once more, and realized his shoulder was being held back. Am I hitting something? What's holding me back? He strained his neck to raise his head higher and get a closer look at what was above him. He felt his hair and then his head come into contact with something. Squinting his eyes in the dark and focusing as much as he could, all he could see was a flat surface. Is that the ceiling? Why is the ceiling so close to my face? Why am I so close to the ceiling? d.a.m.n, that's not the ceiling. I'm in a frigging box. What the f.u.c.k am I doing in a box? Is it really a box? It's soft on the bottom. Why is it so soft?

Chaz tried yelling, but he could barely get enough air in to make a whimper. He tried again, sucking in as much air as he could. Again, he barely got enough to make any noise. The air tasted stale, and there wasn't much of it to go around. He began breathing harder from the panic, like a drowning man trying to suck oxygen from the water. The harder he tried, the less air he got in.

d.a.m.n it, Chaz, get a grip. Slow down your breathing. C'mon, slow it down. There's nothing to be gained from panic. That's it, slow down your breathing. Gradually, Chaz regained control of his breathing. OK, think about things now. You're in a box. The air is stale. You can barely move, because the box is confining. You can't hear a d.a.m.n thing, and this thing smells like formaldehyde. I'm in a d.a.m.n coffin, is where I am. I'm in a coffin and I can't move. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds frigging buried me alive. Jesus! I don't know which b.a.s.t.a.r.ds it was, but I'm putting my money on those d.a.m.n freaks. The smarter ones. I'll bet like h.e.l.l they did it on purpose, just to torture me for the last few minutes of my life. Monsters with a brain, that's all those things are. Every bit a monster, just friggin' sick and twisted inside their rotted brains.

For a moment, Chaz just lay there contemplating his situation. Slowly he breathed in and out, controlling every breath. He breathed as deep as he could for a count of ten, held the stale air inside his lungs for a count of ten, then breathed out at the same methodical pace. For almost fifteen minutes he kept breathing slowly in and slowly out.

If I'm going to go, it's going to be on my terms. Not in a panic, and not out of control. I'm Colonel Chaz Sheperd. I've gotten myself out of plenty of tough situations, and I may yet find a way out of this one. If those brain-addled freaks can rise from the dead, there's no reason why I can't.

Chaz focused every bit of strength he had into moving his arms up. If I can just get my arms moving, then maybe I can lift the d.a.m.n lid on this coffin. Maybe they haven't stuck me in the ground yet. They probably just drugged me, and that's why I can't move. It's not the coffin restraining me, it's got to be drugs. It's why I can barely move. Just focus on one thing. Get your arms to move.

Chaz struggled for what felt like hours, but was only seconds. His arms barely budged more than an inch. He stopped to catch his breath. He was perspiring heavily, and shaking all over. Again, he recovered by breathing in and out slowly till he felt under control. He tried again, but this time with just his right arm. His arm shook, and pain shot through it from his wrist to his shoulder. He kept focusing and exerting every bit of energy he had into raising his arm. The pain increased, and his whole body began to shake, but eventually his arm did move. At first just a few inches, but then with one last final push his arm broke free into the air. His arm shot straight up and into the air, and came to a stop above his head.

Oh thank G.o.d, I can move again. Or, at least part of me can move. Chaz was dripping with sweat, and still shaking. Happy at first, then realizing that something wasn't quite right. Hang on, why didn't my arm hit the top of the coffin? He moved his arm easily now, back down and then up again, trying to feel for the coffin lid. He felt nothing but air. He felt all around above him, but found nothing substantial to hold on to. What the h.e.l.l, that's not right.

Then, he heard sounds. Sounds like a door opening, then someone shuffling across a floor, and the clanging of metal. It was faint, very faint. Then a voice. Muddled, but definitely a voice. It was female.

"Ah, Mr. Sheperd, it looks like you're finally awake. Decided you've had enough sleep time I suppose. Oh, and look, you've gotten your arm out of your restraints. You are an eager one, aren't you? You know those are there for a reason. We're just trying to keep you safe."

Chaz felt a hand grab hold of his wrist and move it back down to his side. He tried to resist, but was still too weak from his last exertion. Once more, his hand felt restrained to his side. He could barely move it again.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sheperd. You're going to be just fine. I need to keep you from moving around too much. You don't want to hurt yourself now. After six years of lying in a bed, you're going to want to take things nice and slow at first."

Chaz's mind reeled. What the h.e.l.l did she just say? Six years? Chaz tried to speak, but only garbled whispers came out.

"Now, what did I just tell you, Mr. Sheperd? Take it slow. Just you hang on there one second. Let me dim the lights, and I'll get those covers off your eyes. You should be able see a little better."

Chaz felt hands around his head, and then some cloth being removed from his head and face. He squinted his eyes against what little light was in the room. He was having a hard time making out the objects in the room, but the woman standing close to his bedside and looking down at him was immediately recognizable.

"It's so nice to have you back in the land of the living, Colonel Sheperd. They had all given up hope for you years ago, but I had no doubt you'd be back to pay us a visit. I wouldn't let them turn the machines off. No, sir. I had faith. I knew you'd be back, and we could spend some time getting to know each other all over again. I'm not wrong very often, Colonel. Don't you agree? Oh, and one other thing. I've been talking with your wife." While Chaz couldn't react physically, the machines monitoring him showed an increase in heart rate and respiration. That didn't stop a smiling Dr. Judith Montgomery from sliding a chair over next to his bed and having a seat. She glanced up at the machines. "Your wife had virtually the same reaction when I mentioned you. She'll be so pleased to hear about your recovery."

Family Ties.

Matt rolled into Chaz's room with his usual smile and enthusiasm. He was carrying a lunch tray and a few pages of new physio exercises for Chaz.

Chaz moved around in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. "When the h.e.l.l do I get out of this bed? I've been lying here for over six years, and you people seem intent on keeping me here for another six."

"C'mon now, Colonel, you know that's not my call. I just bring the meals, your workout for the day, and a smile. That's all they pay me to do around here. And, judging by your current disposition, I'd say they don't pay me nearly enough."

"I don't need physio, what I need is to get out of this bed and start walking around. That's the best physio I could possibly do."

"Well, Colonel, you're not really wrong. I think it would be great if you were up and able to walk around, but let's start with something a little easier. If we overdo things and you end up hurting yourself, your recovery will take that much longer. And trust me when I tell you I'm not the only guy around here that wants you up and taking care of yourself. Believe it or not, I do have other responsibilities around here besides taking abuse from you."

"Who else cares about me getting out of here? You talking about Montgomery? If she's so concerned, why hasn't she been back to visit? I'm getting a little sick of seeing your face. How about you tell her I'd like to continue the discussion we started."

"Colonel, you're going to have to be a little more patient I think." Matt flashed one of his overly exuberant smiles. "It's only been a couple of days since you awoke and Dr. Montgomery is a very busy woman. I'm sure she'll come back to see you when you're ready."

"I'm ready now, d.a.m.n it! I want to see my family. She said she'd talked with them. I need to know where they are, and what's going on."

Ignoring his last protest, Matt continued. "Now Colonel, why don't we see if we can get a little more food into you today? You really didn't eat much yesterday."

Matt set the food tray down in front of Chaz, who immediately picked it up and threw it across the room. Chaz then grabbed Matt by the collar with both hands and pulled his face in close to his.

"Can you hear me good from here?" Matt just nodded his head in agreement. Chaz continued, "I don't give a s.h.i.t about food right now. What I want is to know about my family. You may not realize this, but I thought for sure I had lost them for good the last time I talked with my wife. She left me once already, and eventually ran halfway around the d.a.m.n world just to get away. To be honest, I'm not sure if she was running from the d.a.m.n freaks, or if she was running from me. If I don't get someone in here p.r.o.nto that has a clue about what is going on with my family, you're going to see this sunny disposition of mine disappear in a heartbeat."

Once again, Matt flashed Chaz another of his overly enthusiastic smiles. He then easily grabbed Chaz's hands and removed them from his collar, placing them in his lap. Chaz tried to resist, but couldn't.

"That's great, Colonel. I see some of the physio is starting to pay off. Your reflexes are coming along nicely. It won't take long until your strength starts to come back as well." Matt never stopped smiling. "I'm sure someone will be along shortly to address any concerns you may have. In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can find some cleaning supplies to get that food off your walls. I'll be right back."

Chaz released his shaking grip on the bed sheets, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. That was a complete waste of energy. I knew full well there was nothing he could do for me. Why do I even try? It's Abby that's got me all worked up. I wonder if she even knows what's been going on with me these past six years. Would they have told her anything? d.a.m.n it, I really need to find out. I don't know what's worse, her knowing nothing about my coma and moving on, or her knowing about it and having to live with that for all these years. And then the kids. I can't even begin to think about what they've gone through. I barely understood them as teenagers, and now they'll be practically adults. So many years lost. They won't even remember me. Will they even care?

"Lost in your thoughts I see, Colonel." Chaz opened his eyes to see General Frank Chambers entering his room. "It's quite a mess in here. I'll get the cleaning staff to come get that food off the walls."

"That won't be necessary, Matt's taking care of it."

The general nodded his head in acknowledgment. He grabbed a chair and slid it closer to the bed before having a seat. "So, Colonel, it's been a while since we had a chance to talk."

"Funny that, General, it seems like just yesterday to me. Time does have a way of flying by when you're in a coma."

"I wouldn't know. But, first thing's first. I wanted you to know that I harbor no ill feelings for your betrayal all those years ago. I've had time to cool down. As it turned out, things worked out pretty well in spite of your actions. One might say you were a big help with the cause."

"Really, well that's the first I've heard of it. There hasn't exactly been a fountain of information pouring in here since I woke. One might say I'm as much in the dark as I've ever been. Although, I must say, it's nice to hear my work has been appreciated all these years."

"Well, don't get too full of yourself that fast there, Colonel. There are some of us in authority here and higher up that remember what you did. Not in a nostalgic and fond sort of way, though. There are some that think your actions deserve prison time. And I'm not just talking about that little escape stunt you pulled with the girl. There's still that whole question of desertion from the military. Last I checked the penalties were pretty high for desertion during wartime."

Chaz grimaced. "So basically what I'm hearing is that I somehow managed to save the planet from an apocalypse just before slipping into a coma and now the prevailing powers wants me to do jail time ... or face the firing squad. Which was it exactly, General? Jail time or the firing squad? I can't imagine you've kept me alive for all this time just to shoot me, so I figure it must be jail time."

The general stood up and started walking towards the door, but turned back. "No need to be so dramatic, Colonel. If you can cooperate, there'll be no need for any jail time."

"Cooperate? Cooperate about what ... with who? Surely you're not talking about Matt and his d.a.m.n physio sessions."

The general walked back to the chair and spun it around to sit in it backwards. "Colonel, I'm talking about everything. I'm talking about cooperating with every d.a.m.n thing we ask of you. Strike that ... with every d.a.m.n thing we order you to do. That's what we want cooperation with. No more of your disobedience, and no more of your insubordination. You're still an officer in this military, and I am your commanding officer."

Chaz returned the general's steely stare. "If you've got something to say, General, you have my attention. There's no reason to hold back."

The general rubbed his hand through his whiskers before continuing. "If this were up to me, I'd court-martial you and imprison your whole family. You've been nothing but a walking, talking embarra.s.sment to this military, and your family risked infecting millions of others when they illegally left the country. You're an entire family of criminal miscreants in my book."

With a clenched jaw, Chaz replied, "This is about me; you can leave my family out of this. They bear no responsibility for my actions."

"Much as I'd like to, Colonel, I can't leave your family out of this. While you may find this strange to hear, I actually follow orders. And I've been ordered to give you this message."

"Go on."

"Your family is currently in detention awaiting sentencing for the crime of illegally leaving the country. It took a few years to catch up with them and bring them back here, then another year and a half for their trial to be processed. It was big publicity here. The trial of the family of a former war hero turned military deserter. A single mother with two young children, who are now old enough by the way to be tried as adults." The general actually managed a smile. "I guess you could say they're deserters as well. They did after all desert their country."

"Is this really the message your bosses wanted me to hear? Or are you just posturing with a bunch of bad news?"

"No, that's not the message. The message is this: the government needs your help with a special mission."

Chaz's expression changed from one of anger to surprise. "You're kidding, right? I'm two days out of a coma and they have a mission for me?"

"Apparently it's something you have experience with."

"Exactly what sort of experience? What's the mission?"

"I don't know, and even if I did, I don't think they'd want me disclosing it at this time."

"Why exactly would I agree to some mission I know nothing about?"

"Because if you don't your entire family will go to prison for the next twenty years and I'll have the full support of this government to court-martial your a.s.s. One more thing: I'll need the answer by the end of the day."

The general got up, slid the chair back to its place, and walked towards the door. Before he could reach for the handle, Chaz replied, "I'll do it. It's the least I can do for my family after all the misery I've brought them. Tell them I'll do it. Whatever it is."

The general nodded his head and silently left the room.

Comatose Dreams.

When you've been in a coma for six years, sleep loses much of its appeal. For that matter, many people express a distinct fear of going to sleep after awakening from a coma. Quite often they're plagued with sleep disorders for the rest of their lives. These disorders are quite often misdiagnosed as other physical ailments that doctors blame on the original coma or the original coma-inducing trauma. Chaz was learning firsthand how uncomfortable the idea of going to sleep could be.

d.a.m.n, it's three o'clock in the morning and I'm lying here wide awake. Sleep, they said. You need your sleep. It's important to your recovery and gaining back your strength, they said. Or Matt said. That kid is really getting on my nerves. It's his friggin' smile. I really wish he'd quit that. No one is supposed to be that happy. I used to be able to sleep anywhere, anytime. It's basic survival when you're on a mission. Things are never on a schedule, and you have to be able to grab shut-eye whenever you can. d.a.m.n missions. Can't believe the government wants me on another mission. Why me? It's not like I've given people a lot of reason to trust me as of late. It's gotta be freak related, that's for sure. What else am I good at? Certainly not raising a family. Just one more mission, and that's it. Then I'm really done. Maybe I sucked at being a husband and a father in the past, but that doesn't mean I can't be a good one in the future. For as long as I can. For as long as they'll let me.

Chaz's mind drifted back to when his kids were young. Back when things seemed more straightforward. It made sense back then. Things were easy. His job was to take care of and protect people. His kids, his family, his country. That was it. He protected them, and they loved him for it. Somewhere along the way it had gotten harder. He tried to remember when exactly, but couldn't. Sleep finally took over.

He didn't sleep long before the voices started. Dream voices? He wasn't sure, but they sounded familiar. Not human voices. Strange disembodied voices that brought back uncomfortable feelings.

My dreams seem so vivid now, so real. I'm thinking about my dreams while dreaming. I never used to do that. They used to be events that just happened to me, but now I feel like I have a say about what happens in my dreams. I feel like I have control here. I can control who is here and what happens next. This is so weird.

A voice sounded in the distance. "Control isn't real. It's humorous. An illusion for the weak."

Chaz looked around in his dream, but all he could see was fog and sidewalks. There were multiple sidewalks under his feet all heading off in multiple directions like the points of a compa.s.s. N E W S ... NE NW SE SW. The voice sounded like it came from all around him. Chaz replied, "Where are you?" No one answered, but he spoke again regardless. "Control is real if you believe it to be so. The trick is knowing when you're in control, and when you're not."

"Your understanding is limited. Your insignificant control is fleeting and of no importance to me."

"Where are you?"

"You're in control. Where should I be?"

Chaz turned right and followed the sidewalk leading in that direction. The clouds parted, and Chaz found himself walking down a hallway. The walls were antiseptic white, and all the doors along the hallway were open. Inside he could see laboratories filled with people and machines and test tubes. None of them moved. None of them turned to look as he pa.s.sed by. At the end of the hallway was a single closed red door. Chaz turned the k.n.o.b and walked in.

He'd been here before. Shortly before he, Christa and Alex had escaped from Fort Knox. This was Patzy's lab. Patient Zero nicknamed Patzy by the staff, in all her morbidity.

"Why am I dreaming about you?" Chaz asked.

"Dreams? Who said dreams? You don't dream me. I found you. My control ... not yours."

"Of course I'm dreaming. I can't even get out of my bed. My handlers don't trust me anymore, they still keep me restrained when they're not around. There's no way I could get out of bed, let alone leave my room. Besides, I remember your room. There's no red door. I was there before. That's just weirdo dream dramatics. It's my mind playing tricks on me."

"Red. Blue. White. Yellow. Change happens. Things have changed. Been so long but just a heartbeat. Doesn't matter. You're here for now. That matters."

"Alright, you're talking nonsense. Of course, you talked nonsense even when I wasn't dreaming."

"Dreaming not. Can't dream. Can't sleep. Can you?"

"Yeah, I have a hard time sleeping, but I'm definitely dreaming now, so I must be asleep."

"Not dreaming ... listening ... watching ... me. Controller watching me. My thoughts. My messages. Listen now! Listen to me!"

Chaz took a step back and wondered, Am I dreaming? I have to be, right?

Patzy replied, "No. Not. Can't."

"You heard that? That was in my head; you couldn't have heard that."

"In your head, with you. I am. Machines took me to you. I remembered you. Your machines watching you. I watch machines."

"The machines in my room monitoring me? You're talking to me through the machines?"

"Yes. Gets it now. Finally it does."

"Why would you do that?"