8

Chapter 8

When David returned home…it was nightfall. The ziccata's were chirping; a few fireflies could be seen buzzing about.

After David stowed away his hover-cycle in the barn…he slowly ascended the gravel path up to the house.

He climbed the steps…spotting Uncle Carl on the front porch as he approached the front door.

The two made eye contact for an instant; David could feel his blood boil a bit.

"David,"

David slowly turned. He approached him…standing about five feet away.

"Can we talk?"

David's expression didn't change; his eyes darted off into the distance.

"How are you?"

David kept his eyes away; he leaned his arms on a chair in front of him.

"I'm alright,"

Carl kept his eyes focused on David; his face was filled with sincerity.

"I spoke with your mother earlier,"

"Yeah,"

"She tells me you don't have any plans for this fall,"

David shot Carl a brief glare…but contained himself.

"No," he mumbled.

Carl folded his hands over his lap and sat back in his chair.

"David would you take a seat?"

David glanced over at Carl; his face looked pained. He straightened up and folded his arms.

"David…please,"

David rolled his eyes. He sat down…but kept his eyes off Carl.

"You like farming?"

"Sure,"

"You don't sound too thrilled,"

"I'm tired of being interrogated," David groaned.

Carl pursed his lips in frustration.

"I'm here to talk,"

"I know what you're going to say. I know what you're here to do. I'm not interested."

"David…I only came to talk to you,"

"Well I don't want to talk to you. I don't want you to reach out to me. I don't want anything to do with you. You're just like him. You want want want…"

Carl's face stiffened; he scowled.

"I don't want anything from you, David."

David paused; he looked Carl in the eyes.

"I wanted to tell you I'm proud of you. For cleaning yourself up. For getting yourself out of that mess,"

David was silent; his face softened.

"We have a slot left for the fall semester. If you passed the entrance exam now…I could make sure you were the one to fill it."

David's face hardened a little.

"I don't need your pity…I sure as hell don't want to go down that road."

Carl rose to his feet. He started to leave…pausing on the stairs.

"You have a lot of potential, David. More than you may realize. Your mother is content to toil in the dirt. But you…"

He looked David in the eyes.

"You're meant for so much more. I'm not pushing you to join. I'm giving you an option. You have a week to decide. That's the cut-off,"

David watched as he left.

He sat there for several hours…contemplating what he'd said.

He felt this nagging feeling. And he couldn't ignore it.

The three ate dinner in silence. Each with their eyes on their own plate. The only sound that could be heard was the scrape of silverware .Or one of them asking for potatoes…or pepper.

Even Kara didn't feel like making small talk.

She looked the most disheartened of them all.

After dinner…the three each pitched in on the dishes.

Kara scrubbed…Karen rinsed…and David dried.

The air was filled with tension.

David was afraid to even breath.

Half-way through drying the platter for potatoes…David's foot slid on a pool of water on the floor. The dish flew out of his hand…and shattered on the ground.

He froze in his tracks; terror gripped him.

The other two were dead silent for a moment.

Then Kara shot a death-glare at him; David gulped.

"God dammit, David! That's my fine china!"

David said nothing; he stood there…with a deer in head-lights look on his face.

"Aren't you going to say anything!"

David racked his brain for a response.

"Uhmm…"

"That's it! That's all you have to say for yourself!?"

She clamored over and started grabbing the pieces of broken pottery. David started to help.

"Get out of here you bumbling fool!" she shouted…slapping away his hand.

David stood up straight…his face turning from fear to rage.

"Its just a stupid plate!"

Kara froze…standing up straight and staring him straight in the eyes. Her face was beet red.

"Exscuse me?"

"Get over yourself!"

"This is my house! You will not speak to me like that!"

"Try and stop me!"

"Oh I will!"

Karen quietly slipped out the door…rolling her eyes as she went.

"You know what I think? I think you can't stand that Karen is leaving. And you know damn well I'm tired of loafing around this damn farm. You're just a lonely old woman…"

Kara slapped David in the face.

"Get over yourself! You're a terrible farmer anyway! And a lousy son! You run off doing god knows what for an entire year…after I already lost your father!"

Kara started bawling. David's face softened a little. He tried to hug her…but she shoved him off.

"Get the hell away from me…you lazy, good for nothing parasite! Just go on…leave! Run off and do whatever it is you're going to do. Go and get yourself killed for all I care!"

David turned around and walked out of the room. Kara collapsed on the floor in tears.

I'm running…faster and faster. I can hear my breathing. I can see my heart beating through my chest. The throbbing pain worsens with every step.

I can't see anything around me; its all a blur.

I can hear twigs snapping; I can hear leaves crinkling.

I wave my hand in face as if to grab for something…anything.

I can hear footsteps…my own…and someone elses.

I spot a tree through the blurriness…but it quickly slips away.

To the left of me is an animal…large and on all fours. Its gone in a flash.

I keep running; I don't know why. I just know that I must.

I hear a howling in the distance…like a wolf.

I stumble…my whole body crashes to the ground. I feel dirt. I struggle over roots.

The footsteps get closer and closer…I try to move but I'm paralyzed.

The howling gets closer; through blurry vision…I can see the outlines of the animal.

The footsteps end behind me; I hear the animal howling again. The sound pierces my ear-drums.

I can feel my panic; its like my beating heart getting faster and louder.

I slowly rise to my feet; my fear locks my legs in place.

I hear breathing; I hear snarling.

"David,"

My father's voice.

My stomach churns.

My panic builds.

Sweat pours from my face.

In a panic and adrenaline induced frenzy…I whip around.

Through the blurriness…I can make out the image of my father.

His skin starts to melt away like wax; my vision becomes crystal clear.

I'm staring back at myself.

"Don't run," I say to myself. He is older…his words put me at ease.

The snarling turns to growling. It's a voice; a language I couldn't understand.

Shouting…screaming.

Someone screams in agony.

David's eyelids slowly slid open. His thoughts were a blur…caught in a haze of grogginess.

The image of himself was fresh in his mind; the strong feelings of dread racked him.

He laid there for what felt like hours…processing everything.

He struggled to remember every little detail…desperately wanting not to forget.

He wondered to himself…what it had meant.

He wondered if it was just the fall out of the explosive incident at dinner.

Or if somehow…it meant something more.

David slowly slid onto his behind…dangling his legs on the edge of the bed.

He rubbed his head with the palm of his hand...blinking to clear up his vision.

He let out a heavy sigh…feeling worn out from the vividness of his own nightmare. And groggy from the deep sleep.

His blurred vision could make out an image at the opposite end of the room; it was a picture.

David rubbed his eyes with his hands…he got to his feet…grabbing a glass of water on his nightstand.

He was dripping with sweat; the heat of the late Kansas summer was un-bearable.

He felt an anxiety in the pit of his stomach…slowly growing. He didn't understand.

Until his vision finally came back to him.

He could make out the picture on the other end of the room.

It was his father…in his Starfleet uniform.

The sight of it made David's anxiety double; it was almost like the picture…was mocking him. Taunting him.

He could hear his father's words in his head.

"I expect more of you, David; I expect you to carry on the family tradition. Just like me…just like your grandfather. You're a Moore; we are men of honor."

David gulped.

He could not escape his fear; it consumed him.

Just like in his dream…he couldn't run from it any longer.

David packed his bags again; he was gone before morning came.

He left a note for his mother.

He didn't want to be around when she read it.