Chapter 3: Awakening
"Mommy! Mommy! Can I go out and pway?" A small, white haired boy pleaded to his mother.
"Have you finished your chores, dear?" asked the brown haired woman to her child. The boy frowned and bowed his head.
"No," he replied sadly, "but I thought I could go out and pway and then I could finish my chores..." The woman crossed her arms and gave the boy a entertained look.
"Now you know the rules," she interrupted, "No playtime until you finish your chores."
"I know, I know," muttered the boy. "But look, Mommy!" He pointed a small finger out screen kitchen door. The sun was slowly tucking itself into rolling country hills and the sky had turned a dark orange.
"The sun's going away!" he explained, "and I haven't pwayed all day. And I did awot of chores..."
The mother looked at the little boy for a moment, and then smiled. "You have done a lot of work today," she admitted as she walked over to the little boy, bent down, and kissed gently him on the forehead. "Okay, you can go out and play..."
"Yay!" screamed the little boy, as he began to jump up and down on the hardwood kitchen floor with excitement.
"But I want you back before dark, ok?"
"Ok, Mommy!" he promised as he ran out the creaky screen door. The woman smiled and turned back around to begin making dinner.
The boy ran out across the hills and down towards the small grove of trees in the middle of the valley surrounded by the green mounds. This was where he went whenever he got the chance. This was were all of his fantasies and dreams came to life. He would pretend that the trees surrounding him were a gang of giants and he was the knight who had to protect his kingdom. Or when he was in a less creative mood, he would just hang from the winding branches and think about what his mother was making for lunch. He didn't really like other kids coming over to this place. But then again, there was almost no one living in the area of his farm, and the little boy thought it was just as well. He didn't want to share his secret place, it was his and his alone. He didn't even like his mother coming over to the grove to pull him off the branches and bring him in for a bath. This was his world.
He walked into the middle of the grove and closed his eyes. He extended his arm and pointed his finger outward. He then began to spin around and around with his finger pointing towards the trees. He stopped and opened his eyes to see which tree he was pointing to. The boy squealed with delight when he found that he was pointing to his favorite tree in the whole grove. It had a short trunk that was easily climbed onto, and long, winding branches that spread out in all directions. He would have climbed this tree every day if he didn't feel so guilty about not climbing the other ones. He believed that trees had feelings too and he didn't want them to feel at all neglected. He ran up to the tree and quickly scrambled up it's trunk and ran across the branches. He made sure that he climbed across every one before going back to the trunk and doing it again. He did this for what seemed like hours to him, but when he looked at the sky, he saw that it had went from bright orange to a dark pink. It was almost dark. He knew his mother would be furious if he stayed out. He quickly jumped off one of the branches and onto the ground, running out of the grove and up the hill to his house.
He charged up the hill as fast as he could, looking at the sky for a sense of time. It had turned a dark purple now, and the stars were beginning to emerge. The boy ran even faster, he absolutely had to make it before sundown. He was almost to the top of the hill. There he would be able to see the faint lights of the kerosene lamps that his mother put out in the kitchen. If he could make it to the top before the sun disappeared, he could yell to his mother and say that he made it back safely.
He finally made it to the top the hill.
"Mommy! Mommy!" he yelled, "I'm -"
He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence. He let out a small gasp from his tiny mouth as he watched his house going up it flames. Huge whisps of fire climbed hungrily up the side of the small house and the porch in front of the kitchen had already caved in. All that he knew was getting eaten by the fire and there was nothing he could do. But what made the tears begin to drop down his tiny cheeks was his mother's screaming...
Melchiah's eyes shot open and he sat up straight and felt heavy beads of cold sweat dropping down his forehead. He must have also been crying because he could feel the even heavier drops of tears running down his cheeks. He took a deep breath and thought to himself
'Must have been a bad dream,' he concluded, 'but I don't remember any of it though.' However he could still feel the sheer emotion running rampant through his body. He sat there for a moment taking deep breaths and calmed down enough to realize that he wasn't dead. He was sitting in a bed in a small dark room with a window on the opposite side looking out into a lighted corridor with people in black uniforms walking to and fro past the window, occasionally glancing through it trying to see who was in the room. The room was still too dark, he reached into is coat pocket to take out his flashlight, but found himself reaching into thin air. His coat wasn't on. In fact, he wasn't wearing any clothes except for his boxers.
He then became calm enough to realize the throbbing pain in his head. He reached up to the top of his head to feel his wound and touched cloth, he then ran his fingers over his entire head and found that the forehead up was bandaged. He sat there for a moment, taking it all in. His pectorals glistened with sweat in the moonlight coming through the other window to his side. He shivered. It was cold. He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and tried to remember what had happened. 'Winhill,' he thought. 'Battle with SeeDs. That damned commander...' He touched his wound again and gritted his teeth with anger and pain. He then remembered the familiar voice and the gunshots he heard before he passed out. 'Sam?'
Suddenly, the door by the corridor window swung open. "Mel! Your awake!" exclaimed the familiar soothing voice of a woman. In the doorway stood the shapely figure of a woman. She was shorter than Melchiah, about 5'9, and had beautiful chestnut hair that was shoulder length and shone bright in the light of the hall. She was wearing tight gray sweatpants and a heavy gray sweatshirt that that said "Galbadia University" in bold blue letters across it. Melchiah recognized the voice and the womanly physique at once.
" W...Wolfe?" he said weakly. The woman quickly rushed over to the Melchiah's bed and clicked on the lamp on the table beside it.
"Don't talk Mel, you've been through a lot," she urged as she reached for the pitcher of water and a glass on the table. She poured the water into the glass and gave it to Melchiah.
"Here, drink this. You must be thirsty."
She was right, he was thirsty. He quickly took the glass from Wolfe's hand and gulped every last drop of water down. He then turned his head to her.
"....Thanks," he said softly. Wolfe smiled and took the glass out of his hands and set down on the table next to the picture.
"How do you feel?" she asked, looking at Melchiah's bandaged head with her dark green eyes.
"Not too good," he grunted, "my head hurts."
"I should think it does!" replied Wolfe as she crossed her arms. "That SeeD cracked your skull when he brought the butt of that gunblade down on your head!"
Melchiah's cold blue eyes widened in disbelief. "He did?" She nodded and sat down on the bed next to him.
"Yep," she confirmed. "If he had done it a little bit harder, then you could have gotten brain damage."
Melchiah's eyes got even wider. "Did they cut any of my hair off when they fixed it?" Even though he never talked about it, Melchiah took great pride in his hair. Wolfe laughed and put her hand on Melchiah's bare shoulder.
"No," she chuckled. "The doctor's managed to sew up that wound without cutting any of your precious white hairs off." Melchiah sighed in relief and looked at Wolfe. She was beautiful. Just looking at her made him feel better. But he also knew all too well that Alandra Wolfe was a force to be reckoned with.
For starters, the Wolfe family name was a highly respected one. They dominated the world of martial arts and was victorious at almost every tournament held. Alandra was the first woman in the Wolfe family to have an interest in martial arts. She loved especially to see her older brother Ransom compete. He would soon be the greatest martial artist that the Wolfe's had ever produced and Alandra held her brother with great respect. Her mother died while giving birth to her and with her father being the left to raise Alandra. He decided the best way to teach her discipline was through martial arts. She began training at the age of four. By the age of nine, she was a black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do. She began to enter tournaments with boys and winning with great ease. At age thirteen, she began to take an interest in Ninjitsu, or the arts of the ninja. Her father was deeply concerned by this interest being that it was a deadly art and was only to be used by those with perfect self-discipline. He concluded that if he wouldn't teach her then she would teach herself, so he decided if she was going to learn Ninjitsu then she better learn it right, and took her in as her pupil in ninjitsu. By seventeen Alandra had mastered the art of ninjitsu. She could move as fast as the wind itself and be seen only when she wanted to be seen. When she was eighteen she wanted to join the military. She wrote countless letters to General Caraway in Deling City, asking to give her special permission to join. Caraway was impressed by her persistence alone, but when he saw her unsurpassed mastery of martial arts, he moved her to Genesis. There she met Melchiah, who had been her only friend (except for Sam) within Genesis ever since.
Melchiah took his eyes off of Wolfe and looked around the room. "Where am I?" he asked.
"You're in the infirmary ward of Genesis headquarters," she answered.
Melchiah's eyes narrowed in confusion as he scanned the room once more. Another question came to mind. "How long have I been out?"
"About two weeks," she replied calmly.