Chapter 16:
Surrounded by a forest of trees, Clark stood alone, leaning against a strong trunk, lost amidst his own mind. The sun was beginning to set and clouds were slowly rolling in through the dusk sky, but none of it mattered to the disturbed boy. Time was obsolete. It was just an object, only to be used for the scientists' advantage. Yet now they were gone. The one thing his life revolved around suddenly dissolved, only to be replaced by new surroundings with strange people. People who didn't understand he was not one of them. Were they not told? He was meant for scientific purposes...for the progression of human knowledge. Nothing else. Everything else was irrelevant.
Yet, there was something nice about the strange people. Deep down, he liked being thought of as a human, even though he knew it was wrong. They thought he was good, even when he was blatantly opposing them. In a world were all he strived for was someone's approval he never thought someone would give it to him so easily. It was like him just being there was enough for them, and the thought of that was overwhelming. They didn't expect anything from him, therefore he never knew what to do. He wanted to please them, yet they were already satisfied. So what was his goal?
Sliding to the ground, Clark looked blankly at the slowly approaching rain clouds. Sighing, he fingered the soft dirt, letting the dry summer leaves crumple in his hand. His thoughts wandered back to the kind lady he abandoned. He felt guilty. Not fearful of what punishment he would receive, but regretful for leaving her, knowingly causing her pain. She seemed so concerned...for him. Just the thought of her made Clark want to rush back to the little house he saw in his dreams. Yet, in a split second, none of it was real. And he knew he couldn't return to something that never existed.
Suddenly tired, Clark leaned his head against the trunk of the tree, looking up at the graying sky. He felt like nothing. Just a being forever tapped in a dimension of time that never existed. Maybe that was the purpose. Maybe that was the scientists' goal...to make him realize that he, himself, didn't exist. It would explain why his memories were fake, only used for the scientists' taunts. But now, the scientists, the ominous beings, were gone. His past was just a scene created in his own mind, and he, as a thing, didn't have a future. For a creature that only lived in the present, what was he supposed to do now?
As if the angels from heaven were watching from above, the gray cloud finally burst with anguish, a steady stream of rain falling to the earth. Confused by the drops of water falling from the sky, Clark reached his hand out, heaven's tears gently dripping through his fingers. Glancing back up at the cloud, he blinked back his own tears, realizing he had never felt something so beautiful. He wished time would stop, forever suspended in this moment. A moment where everything made sense. A moment just for him. Closing his eyes, he savored his moment, not letting it slip away before he returned to his dimension of nothingness.
"Clark!" a frantic voice called from afar.
Clark ignored the call as it drifted in one ear and out the other. Lost in his thoughts, he sighed as the rain continued to cascade down his face. It reminded him of a dream he once had. He was younger. Every time it rained, against his mother's wishes, he would run out to the yard and jump in the puddles, only to be dragged inside by the arm and rushed to the bathroom. Suddenly there was a warm hand on his shoulder. Calmed by his thoughts he slowly looked into the soft blue eyes before him. "Mom," he breathed without thought.
Her lost son finally found, Martha blinked back tears of relief. "Clark," she whispered as she brushed a strand of his damp bangs out of his eyes.
Clark silently looked around his surroundings. He was still in the forest, yet she was there. But she only existed when he was dreaming, and surely he wasn't asleep. "What's happening?" he wondered aloud as his eyes curiously darted across the scenery.
Her face crumpling, Martha thought back to his words right before he disappeared. 'You don't exist...' The three words had been on her mind all day as she searched frantically for her missing son. The forgotten mother gently placed her trembling hands Clark's cheeks. Tears now freely flowing down her face, she stated, "I'm real. I've always e-existed..." Swallowing, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to contain her tears. "And I am so s-sorry that you have ever believed otherwise." Unable to hold back any longer, she wrapped her arms around her son, her hot tears running though his already soaked shirt...and to her surprise he hugged back.
To Be Continued...
oOo
Chapter 17:
Ever silent on the nightstand, the digital clock gleamed 4:37 in bright red numbers as a disturbed father constantly tossed and turned in his sleep. His mind lost in his personal nightmare, Jonathan repeatedly fidgeted beneath the twisted sheets.
He was running down a dark hallway. Even though he couldn't see his hand in front of him, he knew exactly where he was going. He understood fate was against him, as it always was, but this time would be different. He would make it in time. He had to...if not for himself than for his son, his wife, everything he loved. Never missing a beat, Jonathan turned one last time. His breaths echoing down the labyrinth behind him, he threw the door open, already knowing what was on the other side. As if sensing the man's presence, a bright light blazed throughout the room. Shielding his eyes against the harsh light, Jonathan cautiously stepped forward towards the metallic table in the center of the room. The father held his breath as he shakily leaned over the table, already sensing his fate.
No matter how hard Jonathan tried, nothing could prepare him for what was in front of him. Lying on the table was the remains of his son. His skin was torn open, exposing a vast empty space where his once precious organs used to lie. Jonathan could only imagine what tortuous deeds the scientists did to his son, as he looked over the gray corpse. But what disturbed the man most of all was not gaping whole in his son's torso, or the exposed bone in his arms and legs...it was the lifeless, hollow eyes that looked back at his father, unaware that his savior had come a second too late.
Tears now freely falling down his face, Jonathan picked up Clark's cold, unmoving hand, and placed the palm against his own, just as he used to when he was a child. Unable to contain himself any longer, Jonathan dropped his son's hand and fell to his knees, his sobs rattling the table beneath his head.
Gasping for air, Jonathan awoke with a start, bolting straight up in his bed. Steadying himself, he placed his hand to the right of him, only to feel that the spot where Martha usually slept was empty. He quickly glanced to the right of him, the undisturbed pillow confirming his assumption. The dream still fresh in his mind, he quickly ran down the short hallway and threw open the door to his son's bedroom. The moonlight from the window softly lit the small room, showing a mother and son reunited.
Martha was sound asleep in a chair next to Clark's bed, her hand stubbornly wrapped around the boy's. His eyes never leaving his son's peaceful face, Jonathan strolled over to the other side of the bed and sat next to him. Noticing Clark's steady breaths were slowly increasing, Jonathan whispered in a soothing tone, "You're awake, aren't you?"
Clark slowly opened his eyes and shamefully hung his head. "Yes, dad," he breathed. Jonathan stayed quiet for a moment, just glad to see his son alive and well. Perturbed by the silence, Clark looked up at the man, wondering what was running through the man's mind.
Seeing the boy's empty green eyes reminded Jonathan how unwell his son truly was. Still shaken by the image in his dream, Jonathan slightly patted Clark on the shoulder, stating, "Well, c'mon. I'll show you around the farm before the workers arrive." He slowly rose to his feet and stretched, mentally preparing himself for the task he was about to face. Jonathan never took a course in psychology or even knew exactly what was expected of him, but in his mind he figured the best way to make Clark feel comfortable was to introduce some type of routine. The father casually walked over to the closet and tossed his son a plain, white shirt and a pair of jeans. Never looking back at the confused look on the boy's face, Jonathan instructed, "I'll meet you downstairs," before walking out the door.
Taking one last look at the now closed door, Clark shakily stood up and made his bed. He nervously glanced at his sleeping mother, praying he wouldn't disturb her. Changing as quickly as possible, he cautiously walked down the stairs, toward the already lighted kitchen. He abruptly stopped before he reached within ten feet of the wandering man. Clark silently watched as the man paced around the kitchen, randomly grabbing several meats from the refrigerator and some bread. Obviously unfazed by the boy, the man kept his back towards him as he made what seemed to be a sandwich on the counter. Finally satisfied with his product, the farmer spun around and handed Clark half of the sandwich. "Don't worry, I'm sure your mom will make something more sufficient once she wakes up," he stated as he headed towards the front door.
"T-thank you, dad," Clark whispered, his eyes never leaving the sandwich placed in his hands.
Pausing for a moment in the doorway, the man answered, "Don't mention it. Now, c'mon, we have a lot of work to do."
Seeing the man already making his way down the porch steps, Clark immediately jogged towards him, feeling a strange sense of acceptance. Once he became within a foot of the farmer, Clark slowed down a bit, not wanting to intrude on the man's personal space. Clark's eyes hungrily traveled down toward the untouched sandwich in his hand. As the scent hit his nose, he quickly stuffed a huge bite in his mouth. Whatever the sandwich contained, it was like heaven compared to what he usually ate. Now all thoughts on the delicious sandwich, he absently followed the man, devouring it before someone else got their hands on it.
Reaching the entrance of the barn, Jonathan quickly turned around, still chewing on part of his own half. His jaw slightly slacked at the sight of his son, who was wiping his hands on his pants and swallowing the last part of his breakfast. "Y-you just ate that whole thing?" Jonathan asked, blinking back disbelief.
"Y-yes, dad," Clark answered, as he nervously rubbed his left arm.
A smile growing on his face, Jonathan laughed, "Some things never change."
oOo
As the glowing sun slowly rose over the Kansas plains, its soft, gold rays gently peeked through the small window within Clark's bedroom. Squinting her eyes against the sun, Martha slowly sat up in the hard wooden chair where she had spent the night. Realizing where she was, her mind jolted awake as recollections of the previous day quickly danced through her thoughts. She quickly snapped her eyes open, the desire to see her son so great she could wait another second. But to her horror she found the bed where he was once sleeping in, completely empty with the sheet undisturbed as if he was never there.
Her heart beating faster by the second, she ran out of the room, screaming her son's name, praying for some type of answer. Looking around the deserted house, her subconscious second guessed what had happened the day before. "It couldn't be a dream..." she whispered to herself, tears brimming her soft blue eyes. Unable to take the solitude, she ran out the front door. "Jonathan!" she screamed frantically as she sprinted towards the barn.
Twirling around the large cathedral-like room of the barn, she hollered again, "Jonathan!"
Hearing the frantic tone in his wife's voice, Jonathan appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Martha, what's wrong?" he asked as he placed a steady hand on her arm.
Unable to wait another second, she yelled, " Clark! Where's Clark!"
Mentally slapping himself for not informing her before he left, Jonathan calmly answered, "Don't worry he's right here." As soon as the words left his mouth, he turned and gestured towards the stables, only to find the space empty. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he stuttered, "I-I don't understand, he was right here milking the cow..." He slowly sauntered towards the abandoned cow, finding the pale half-full and his son no where in sight. He turned towards his wife, surprised to find her slowly heading in the opposite direction. "Martha?"
Jonathan's voice never reached the mother's ears, her thoughts totally fixated on the shaking person in the corner. " Clark?" she whispered, as she stopped a couple inches away from her son.
Leaning against the wall, the boy stood, terrified of whatever was in front of him. His long hair dangled in front of his face as he hung his head shamefully. "L-Loud voices..." he breathed as his arms constantly rubbed each other as if he was cold. "P-Please stop...I'm sorry," he continued, he voice barely loud enough to hear the last words.
Blinking back tears, Martha slowly reached out towards her son, only to have him slightly move away, but she persisted until she slowly touched his face, gently brushing the long strands of hair out of his face. "I'm sorry, that was me, honey," she calmly explained. After waiting a couple seconds for some type of response, she turned towards Jonathan. "Let's get him inside."
To Be Continued...