Chapter CCXIII: Pale Blue Dot
September 23, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/three weeks later
UNSC Obsidian, Sol System (en route to Earth)
"Well, that was unexpected."
After three weeks of nothing but slipspace with very brief pauses, it was a relief to once again be able to see stars through the viewports of the ship. I stood in one of those right now, looking out the window as we slingshotted around Pluto to begin our burst towards Earth. The gravity of the ship had increased slightly as we used our conventional thrusters to speed up during our orbit of the planetoid, but the extra weight I had to carry didn't bother me in this position.
Andrea and Serge. So fast.
I had had time to grieve and think about all the men that I had lost in Reach, starting with Polly and ending with Serge. I had had nightmares every single day that I hadn't spent in cryo. Considering how crowded this ship was, it meant that I had had nightmares for the past three weeks.
I closed my eyes and frowned as I saw Andrea in my reflection, her midsection torn apart and bloody.
"Breathe," Schitzo said. "I don't like being this close to him."
"It was inevitable," I sighed quietly. "Inevitable."
I opened my eyes, this time to see Ramirez looking back at me. A moment later he became Dana Bamber, from a few years ago. So many faces and all of them had died under my command, having trusted me to lead them into victory, not death.
And then there was Marvin. Nobody had heard anything about the Autumn since Reach, but an observation post in tribute confirmed that it jumped out of the system with several ships in hot pursuit. Marv was alive, but the question was where.
I shook my head softly and crossed my arms. There had been several UNSC Marine Corps officer uniforms on board the ship and I had been issued one after my second day here. In fact, I had been issued the whole set. I had my dress uniform, my semi, and my work uniform all neatly folded in room. The uniform marked me clearly as a first lieutenant, but there was no nametag.
It was a good look, especially now that I was in my late thirties. Marina would've said that it made me look distinguished. Katie would've smiled and tried to fix something that didn't really need fixing before planting a quick kiss on my lips.
Katie… now that was another problem. Her ship had successfully evacuated. At least the ship that she was supposed to be in had. Amber, Lavvie, and Liz had all been in the ship with her, so they were alive.
In theory.
The evacuation ships had all arrived on Earth here alongside a few million survivors from Reach and other Epsilon Eridani colonies that had managed to evacuate. Some ships from Tribute had begun coming in as well. The numbers weren't very encouraging, but it was hard to have high hopes after seeing the carnage that had gone on in Reach. Esztergom had seen millions dead in just days, and that's a battle that we had won. The rest of the planet hadn't fared any better.
Almost a billion dead. Seven hundred million to be precise. Just three million had gotten out. Three million people. A sliver of Reach's population.
"Fuck!" I cursed, punching the window.
The glass didn't even crack. It was armored against heat and projectiles, designed to take anything that the plates that went over it failed to.
The last three weeks had been hard for all of us. From the moment that Polly died I had blocked out everything and instead focused on fighting and keeping the rest of my men alive. The same happened with everyone else. It hurt to see them go, but I didn't allow myself to grieve over them. Now that we were safe and death wasn't looming over our heads my mind had finally given in to the loss. I hadn't cried once, I hadn't allowed myself to, but there was hardly a waking or sleeping moment that I didn't spend thinking about one of the men and women that had died. I remembered all the times I screamed at them for the sake of being an asshole and when I drank with them to take a break from everything. Many of them had died saving my own life, but not all of them had been granted what you'd consider a good death.
Serge had saved Andy, but Andy herself had been unconscious when she died. Marina had suffered after saving my men. Bee had barely been able to avoid a few slashes before he felt the energy sword go into his chest. Preacher had a building fall on top of him, Payat was killed while saving the civilians in the hospital, Ramirez and Mata had gone both died in Olympic Tower as well.
The rest of my men were dead inside as well. Or at least we were dangerously close to being that.
"Lieutenant."
I turned around halfway and saw Captain Flatt looking at me. She was a bit more unkempt than usual, but at least she looked better than she had when she first boarded the ship. The poor woman had been coordinating too many units for too long a time. After HIGHCOM was razed she was one of the few officers remaining that could give reliable information and so found herself flooded with requests from a few million soldiers.
She had ignored many of those, prioritized the ones that might have a chance to survive and tried to get them to safety. She hadn't succeeded with anything close to a majority.
"Captain," I replied in kind.
"You should get something to eat," she said. "Your men are already in the mess hall."
I nodded and looked at Pluto for a few more seconds before turning around and following after her. We walked in silence, coming across a pair of sleepless Navy technicians that saluted us.
I got three rations from the cook. After so many days of MREs and other equally tasteless meals we were finally getting the real deal before going to Earth. The real deal here meant lasagna. Or pasta cake if you will. I moved my tray towards the table that my men were occupying and sat down next to Pavel and Lady. She eyed my extra large serving with a raised eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. Caboose was sitting across me, his left forearm was bandaged where needle shrapnel had cut through it, leaving several nasty scars. Crow sat next to him, his face covered with bandages that left his mouth and chin uncovered. Snark sat as far away from him as possible, lately the two of them had been clashing a lot.
"Six hours," Pavel said. "Then we go down."
"Have you heard where we're landing?" I asked him, taking another huge bite of the lasagna. I knew that the meat was vat grown, but it was pretty good when mixed with the cheese.
He shook his head. "Segundo Terra came up, but I also heard something about Diego García."
I sighed. "Do you have plans?"
"I'll see if I can get someone to find out about my family… and Katie too, but it's going to take a while to find them and their refugee camp. I think it's time to see my family…"
"You'll have to introduce me someday," I said. "Grass, what about you?"
Grass looked up from her meal and shook her head a little bit. "Sorry?"
"What are your plans?"
"Visit the parents," she said. "Espoo probably hasn't changed all that much since I left. Wow, it's been a very long time."
"When was the last time you were here, sir?" Longworth asked me.
"Back when I was eleven years old," I said. "Same year that the war started."
He whistled. "Helluva homecoming, sir."
"Homecoming…" I said, as if tasting the word. "Might be."
"Captain Flatt mentioned that you might be debriefed before you can go planetside. Or before they let you take a break."
I sighed. "What could they possibly want to know?" I asked. "Why can't they just debrief Falcata?"
"They are going to do that," Grass guaranteed me. "But you had the misfortune of being everywhere of relevance."
"Just our luck, eh?" I muttered.
"What are you doing?" Pavel asked me. He and Grass knew about my family's situation. Caboose presumably knew every detail and Snark garnered that I didn't want to talk about it, but the rest of the team hadn't heard much from me or anyone else.
"I don't know," I admitted. "There's nothing here for me."
"What about him?" Schitzo asked.
"You can stay with me and my folks once I manage to settle things down."
"We're probably going to be deployed soon," I said.
"Deployed where?" Lady asked. "There's nothing in between Reach and Earth."
"Space is large," Crow reminded her. "There's plenty of directions that the Covenant can move."
"You believe that?" Snark asked in a mocking tone.
"Enough," I said.
But they weren't done yet. For some reason the two of them had taken out their frustrations on each other ever since Reach. They had never been particularly close, but I had never seen them fighting over anything until we abandoned Reach.
"Well, I know for a fact that there's more than one direction an object can move in," Crow said, moving his hand to demonstrate.
Snark didn't take kindly to someone giving him a dose of his own medicine, especially someone who he disliked very intensely.
"That's rich," he said. "I have a hard time taking you seriously when half your face is molten."
Crow leaped to his feet and pushed Snark into the ground. To his credit, he let the smaller man get to his feet before hitting him in the stomach. Snark held onto Crow's fist and elbowed it twice before kicking at his thigh. Crow didn't budge though, and he threw a vicious punch at Snark's ribs. By that point I was already there and tore them apart from each other.
"I said enough!" I shouted, throwing Crow into the ground.
"And don't get up, bitch!" Snark made the mistake of shouting.
I turned around and swung at his jaw as hard as I dared.
Snark fell into the ground, his jaw broken.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked him. "And you, Stapleton, you should know better than losing your cool like that."
"Sir," he said quietly.
"What was that?" I asked, getting in his face. "I don't want to hear a word from you at all! Not fucking now, not fucking ever! Now pick up Snark and take him to the infirmary. Right. Fucking. Now. There will be no fighting in my squad or so help me God I will beat you into friendship."
He nodded and picked up a moaning Snark from the ground, leading him away from the mess hall. The rest of the men and women were staring, but a quick glare quickly sent them back to their own meals without a comment.
"That was harsh," Pavel said as I sat down.
"He'll get over it."
Pavel sighed. "Excuse me," he said, getting up. "I'm going to bed."
The rest of the guys did the same, hastily finishing their meals. I often exploded in anger, but never this viciously and certainly not with one of my own men. They didn't want to be left alone with me after this. Grass was the only one that remained, examining a piece of meat on the end of her fork before switching her attention to me.
"You need to calm down," she said.
I didn't answer.
"The men understand what just happened. Hell, even Snark will admit that he had it coming, but if that happens again…"
"It won't," I assured her.
"Damn right you won't," she said, getting close to insubordination. "You could be court martialed for what just happened. The fact that you could've knocked his head off had you wanted to doesn't make it any better. You can't lose control like that."
I took a deep breath. "I won't."
She nodded at my fork, which had been completely crushed in my grip.
"See to that," she told me, getting up and leaving.
"You nervous?" Schitzo asked me.
I shook my head.
"Of course you are," he said. "We're going home."
"Not yet," I whispered as softly as I could.
"You ready?" Captain Flatt asked from the other end of the Pelican. She was wearing a little bit of makeup and her hair was done up in immaculate bun. She was holding her cap underneath her right arm and was tapping her fingers against her left leg.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, getting up and straightening my uniform. I didn't really care how I looked for the brass, but it would ease the captain a little bit.
"Let's go then," she muttered just as the door opened, letting in a flash of light.
Sol's light.
Flatt stepped off the Pelican and into the landing pad below. I walked towards the edge and stopped, taking in the sight of HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. The headquarters of the United Nations Space Command. Thousands of men and women worked here, but it was an honor to be invited here, even if it was just for a debriefing. Captain Flatt knew that, I knew that, the difference is that her higher rank meant that her career could be either made or destroyed in here. And I reflected on her. I wouldn't have enjoyed being in her position either.
"Lieutenant?" Flatt asked after I didn't immediately step off.
I looked down at the polycrete surface. It wasn't earth in the strict sense of the word, but it was Earth.
"It's been a while," I said.
I closed my eyes and stepped into Earth.
I don't know what I expected, but the ground was just like every other piece of dirt I had ever stepped on. Even then, I managed to feel a certain degree of relief.
"Shall we?" she asked, nodding towards the Warthog waiting for us.
I nodded and followed after her.
They drove us to a nondescript building after which we were taken to an underground level. I knew that we weren't all the way down to the bottom of the base, but we were underground enough that spying on whatever we would be asked would be nearly impossible. It was supposed to be flattering, but I dreaded talking about Reach, it would only stir fresh memories.
The rest of my men were headed towards their friends or family or had just gotten together to get shitfaced at a bar with the rest of the survivors from Reach and I was stuck with members of the brass who wanted to know whatever I had to tell them.
"Lieutenant, Captain," an ONI officer greeted us as we stepped off the elevator. "Come with me."
I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that a million different cameras had captured that motion. I didn't care, I just wanted to get this over with to get drunk and then do what I had to do. The ONI man led me into a small conference room where three intelligence officers greeted me before taking Captain Flatt away. One of the intelligence officers was obviously ONI, the other one belonged to the Marine Corps, and a third man was a member of the Army, which struck me as weird.
"Sirs," I said politely, sitting down as they did the same.
"I'm Major Brody," the Marine said.
"Lieutenant Commander Rand, we've all been briefed as to your enhancements as well as your mental condition, so there's no need to hold anything back," the spook added.
I looked at the Army man, ignoring what the spook had just said.
"I'll just be on observer for this one," he said.
"Very well, Colonel…" I replied, pressing for a name.
"Ackerson," he relented.
I nodded again. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Sydney was one of the largest cities in the planet. Along Chicago, Mexico City, Mombasa, Karachi, Jakarta and Guangzhou. Of those cities, only Jakarta and Mombasa had orbital elevators, but they had seen impressive population growth in the last two centuries. Jakarta itself had always been a large city, but after the creation of its space tether it had undergone an explosive population growth that had covered pretty much the entirety of the island of Java in an urban sprawl. Demographers often argued about which city was the largest in the planet. Some said that Jakarta was the obvious choice, seeing as the city itself had a population somewhere around 300 million people. Others argued for Mexico City, which had long since assimilated the neighboring cities of Toluca, Queretaro, Puebla, and Pachuca in order to occupy the entirety of the Valley of Mexico, turning it into an ugly grey mess with a population that rivaled that of Jakarta. Some others would instead put forward Karachi and Guangzhou as the biggest cities, since there were contiguous settlements for miles on either side of the cities, but that would have to depend on what your definition of a city is.
Sydney itself was the smallest of the number, but that didn't mean much when it had a population of some 40 million. The presence of UNSC facilities in the city had meant that thousands of families had moved there, the subsequent population growth had brought in trade and immigrants. After that it just kept growing. It proved to be a good thing overall, at least for the UNSC. A disproportionate number of soldiers in the UNSCDF came from Australia.
"Your flight leaves in five hours," Captain Flatt told me. "Don't miss it."
"I won't," I assured her.
"And make sure to report to Segundo Terra in a week."
"Will do," I said. "Is that all?"
"For now," Flatt said. "Good luck."
"You too captain."
That meant that I had five hours to get shitfaced. I proceeded to do just that, giving the bartender very specific instructions to put me in a cab to the airport as soon as there was only one hour before my flight left. I barely remember any of those hours, but my memory started coming back after I found myself throwing up in the bathroom of the airplane. I shook my head and wiped vomit from my face, wondering how I had gotten there. It was not a stretch to think that I had been sleeping in the restroom for a few hours, but at least the plane was still in the air, if the vibrations were anything to go by. I threw some water on my face and shook my head. I had shaved for the meeting, but my hair was still a bit longer than regulation and the bangs fell awkwardly, covering the top third of my forehead. I tried getting them to stay up and to the side with water, but I failed miserably. I opted instead to put on my service cap and moved out of the restroom and back into the seats. I could not for the life of me remember where I had been sitting before, so I simply sat on one of the empty seats.
"Feeling better?" the lone attendant asked me, offering my Sprite.
"A little bit," I said. "Thanks."
"We've almost landed," she said. "You might want to get some of that in your system."
I raised the soda in thanks before taking a few sips from it.
The soda was sweet and sticky, but it managed to get some moisture into my body. I rubbed my temples and prepared for the landing. The plane had to decelerate and since the airline claimed maximum comfort, it took an extra minute or two in order to make the deceleration unnoticeable. There weren't a lot of passengers in the airliner, but I was the last one to step out.
The majority of the passengers began moving towards the terminal a few meters away, but a Marine corporal was waiting for me next to a civilian Warthog.
"Lieutenant Castillo?" he asked in Spanish.
"Si," I replied. "You're my lackey?"
He chuckled. "Indeed I am, sir. Should I take you to your hotel?"
"Not yet," I said, throwing my duffel bag in the back. "Hospital Santisima Trinidad."
"Yes, sir. It was my understanding that you weren't from Earth, may I ask who you plan to visit?"
"I was born here," I informed him. "But I left twenty seven years ago."
My tone of voice must've told the corporal that I didn't want to talk about it, because he was silent for the rest of the trip to the hospital. I took in the sights of the city, noticing how unplanned it all seemed, especially comparing it to cities in colony worlds. Here you could see a building from the 22nd century right next to modern skyscrapers. The majority of the houses or buildings were more recent, built on top of older ones, but the multi-level metropolis was an amalgam of styles and eras. The closer you got to the downtown area the more stylish skyscrapers you saw, but I knew that near the Zócalo, the old square, you only had buildings that were almost a thousand years old. A stark contrast to the rest of the city.
The hospital in question was one of the several present in the city and of no particular importance except for the fact that my mother had been kept there since we had been hit by that semi.
"Wait," I ordered. "It'll only take ten minutes."
"Yes, sir."
I had called in advance, letting the hospital know that I would be visiting. The lady on the other end of the phone had seemed very surprised and asked twice for confirmation that I was going to in fact visit that patient. They had told me that someone would be waiting for me at the front desk.
"Mr. Castillo?" a young doctor asked as I walked in.
"Yes," I said.
"My name's Doctor Mochon. I'm in charge of patients that have conditions similar to that of your mother."
"Aren't you a little young?" I asked Mochon.
He shrugged. "That's what everybody says. Now, if you'll follow me."
"How many patients are there here?" I asked him.
"Forty-one," he said. "We keep their bodies strong and healthy, using a variety of minerals and fluids. We also have seven nurses that will provide physical therapy to the patients, keeping the muscles well-worked in order to prevent any atrophy."
"So they're comfortable."
"Very much so," he confirmed. "We also play a variety of audio books, television shows, and movies… You know, just in case."
I nodded understandingly. People that suffered from persistent vegetative state were sometimes trapped inside their own bodies, conscious but unable to move. Some people said it wasn't true, but there was no way to disprove it and evidence showed that it was indeed a common occurrence in cases like this. The doctor was basically telling me that they kept the patients entertained to keep them from going crazy.
"Mr. Castillo, out of curiosity…" Mochon began. "Ummm, you see, normally patients in the same situation as your mother are disconnected after a while, but you kept paying for your mother's stay here. Such an arrangement is oftentimes expensive."
"It has been," I agreed.
"And you're a UNSC soldier?" he asked.
"Officer," I corrected. "In the Marine Corps."
"Well, I'm not going to lie, that was not what I would've imagined."
"What did you imagine?"
He laughed nervously. "Well, sir, the payments always came precisely at the same day of the month, never late. After they kept coming for such a long time without visits or any requests at all. Well, people began talking. My predecessor had a few theories of her own."
I didn't want to hear them, so I said nothing.
"So, how are you related to her, sir?"
"I'm her son."
"I thought her son-"
"Her other son," I cut him off.
Mochon cleared his throat and stopped in front of a door. I didn't fail to notice that a few nurses had stopped what they were doing to look at me.
"I think you should stay outside," I told Schitzo.
"Of course," he replied with a bow of the head.
"If that's what you prefer," Dr. Mochon said.
The door slid open and I stepped inside. The room was like any other hospital room. I had spent months of my life in rooms like this one, watching crappy shows on the television and pushing the terrible food down my throat. I looked at the small body peacefully lying down in the bed. I could see neatly trimmed hair fixed to the side. The woman in the bed was one that I barely remembered. I had failed to take any pictures of her when I left Jericho-VII for training and then they were all destroyed during the attack on the planet. She looked young for her age, with only small marks around the corner of her eyes. The rest of her looked as if she could've been sleeping, with her chest slowly going up and down.
"Hello mom," I greeted.
Several of my men were looking at me as I talked to her. Some were dead, some were dying, all had their eyes on me. It was unnerving. Coupled with the fact that I was speaking to a woman that might've been hearing everything I said, it made me feel very nervous.
"It's me," I went on. "Frank."
Marina sat down in front of me, a hole in her chest. Andy stood next to her, blood covering her midsection. Bee joined them, crossing his arms in an attempt to cover the two energy sword holes in his chest. I closed my eyes in an attempt to make them disappear and then opened them again, sighing with relief when the room was empty once again.
"Francisco," I corrected. "Pancho. I always hated when you called me like that. That much I remember."
I felt like an idiot. I didn't even know this woman. I had spent little more than a quarter of my life with her and half of that I couldn't even remember. It was painful, because she was my mother and I loved her, but also because I didn't know why. I had to love her. That's how things worked. You loved your family.
Funny how things work…
"I just came to visit. There's a lot to tell, but most of it is classified stuff. I'm a soldier, in the Marines. Like Uncle Manuel. Oh, umm, he died a few years ago. He was a son of a bitch though. You might not know this, but we're in the middle of a war against aliens of all things, pretty harsh stuff."
I stopped myself again. "Anyways, I'm just visiting. I'll stay here a little longer and then visit my brother and my dad."
I sat down on a stool next to hers and felt an invisible hand squeeze my shoulder. I didn't know if it was Marina, Bee, or even Scarecrow, but I didn't turn around to find out. Instead I closed my eyes and held my mother's hand for the first time in years. It felt nice.
September 25, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/
Mexico City, URNA, Earth, Sol System
Last night I had slept better than I had in ages. I didn't have bad dreams and woke up with every bone in my body feeling exactly in place. My muscles weren't sore, my scars weren't aching, and my brain wasn't turning against me. It was more than I could've ever hoped for.
The corporal whose name I kept forgetting was now in the process of driving me to a cemetery, the place where my dad had been buried. Visiting my mom had done me well, perhaps getting some closure with my dad would help me even more. Schitzo hadn't showed up since the last time I had seen him and neither had any of my dead comrades, but I wasn't making myself any illusions.
"Do you want me to drop you off near the grave?" the corporal asked. "Or would you prefer to walk?"
"I'll walk," I told him. "Might be around half an hour. Get yourself something to eat, will you?"
"Alright sir, I hear there's an excellent carnitas stand nearby. I wouldn't mind trying it out."
"Let me know," I said. "I haven't had genuine carnitas in decades."
"Will do, Lieutenant," he said with a smile.
I hopped off the Warthog and made my way to the sidewalk. The cemetery was very large. Very large in the way that the Atlantic Ocean is very large. I knew exactly where my dad was located, but there were a few million bones crumbling to dust in between him and me. This was one of the more recent cemeteries from what I gathered, but in a city as large as this one, it meant that there were several thousand new corpses every day. Law dictated that you had to be cremated, but that was a law that was never followed strictly to the letter, especially considering that Catholic views on cremation were still a little bit bipolar. Technically speaking you could be cremated as a Catholic, but it was discouraged. If I remember correctly, both of my parents had been Catholics, my uncle took me to non-denominational mass, but he was a strict Catholic himself. I began to wonder whether I should throw in a cross tattoo somewhere in there.
My childhood was a mess…
The walk down the cemetery was a pleasant one. The place was kept tidy and beautiful. In fact, the grass was as green as it got, but there was nothing that could be made about the polluted sky. Even then, the marble and rock graves gave the cemetery a certain air of peaceful beauty that only places like this could manage.
I made it all the way to my dad's tomb and stopped before I could read it. I knew where it was and could see it two gravestones over, but I still felt nervous about standing in front of it.
I steeled myself with a deep breath and walked towards it.
"Beloved husband, and father…" I muttered. "Hey dad."
A wave of memories came into my head, more vivid than I would've liked. I got the good memories first, the ones that I struggled to remember, I also got the bad ones, my dad drinking beer after beer. My mom crying and clutching her face as he yelled at her. The sting of his buckle when I made him run out of patience. Then came the confusing ones, like him throwing away several crates of the beer that he loved so much and him crying in front of my mother, constantly apologizing for something that I didn't understand while she clutched her belly.
The memory ended right there.
Her belly…
"You were a son of a bitch, weren't you?" I asked the gravestone. "But at least you were trying to change… Did you ever succeed?"
I shook my head slowly and closed my eyes. When I opened them the gravestone next to my dad's caught my attention.
"Daniel Castillo," I read out loud. "Born March 13, 2524, died January 15, 2525."
That was on day before the accident…
Then it all came back to me.
"That bitch."
It was late and Mom would be angry if she caught me up. Dad would've been angry too and I didn't want to anger him. I knew that he had stopped drinking beer, which made him angry and mean, but I could still feel the sting of the buckle if I thought hard enough. I looked up at the ceiling of my roof, with the holographic lights that Dad had bought for me two days ago. He said it was a belated gift or an early birthday gift. I was just happy for the lights. I didn't like the dark.
It took me a minute to make up my mind, but Dani had been crying the whole night and maybe he needed someone to sit down with him to fall asleep like I used to when I was little. My dad would understand, he had been smiling a lot more lately and yesterday he even took me out to watch a fútbol game with some of his work friends. The game had been fun, but my dad's friends swore a lot and it made me nervous.
I walked through the hall with my hand on the wall, but I noticed that Dani's door was slightly open and there was light coming out. No wonder he had been crying so much. Before I could go in, however, I realized that he had stopped crying. I debated whether I should go back to bed. I decided to turn off the light before doing just that and walked inside the room.
I was surprised to see Mom sitting down next to Dani's crib. She was holding a pillow and was staring at the wall. It took her a moment to realize that I was there and even then she said nothing. It was scary and I began wondering if this was a dream.
"Your brother's sleeping," she said.
There was something wrong with that, I don't know how but I could tell. I moved towards the crib, sometimes I would watch Dani sleeping because he looked funny with his big head and drooling lips. He drooled a lot. I peeked over and leaned in, my eyes still adjusting to the brightness. Something was wrong, there were dried tears on his face and his face looked a little bit blue, like mine had last week when I threw up all night.
"Mom, what's wrong with Dani?" I asked. "Mom?"
She wouldn't answer.
"Dani, wake up. Dani. Daniel!"
No matter how loud I screamed he wouldn't wake up. I began shaking him, but Dani's eyes were still closed.
"Mom. Help! He's not moving. Mom!"
She said nothing, instead staring distantly into nothing. My screams must've woken up Dad because he rushed into the room with his signed football helmet in one hand. I stepped back from the crib and stumbled into my mom's lap, she held on to me and put her arm across my chest.
"What did you do?" Dad asked.
"He wouldn't shut up," she replied.
"Mom?" I asked, not understanding. "Mom wh-" I was cut off as her arm moved higher and squeezed my neck a little. It hurt.
"Let him go," Dad said.
"You can't tell," she muttered. "You can't tell."
"Let my son go," Dad replied.
"No," she answered after a quick pause.
My parents often fought, but it was usually screaming and crying. Sometimes Dad would punch Mom when she got too annoying, but he had stopped doing that after Daniel was born. This was scaring me.
"You will take me out of the city," she said. "And then you will hide him and never speak of it."
My mom sounded scary and her arm was hurting my throat, but I couldn't get away and Dad looked like he did before he hit Mom or me so I didn't want to go to him either.
"Promise you'll let him go," he asked.
I felt her nodding behind me.
A lot of things happened, but before I knew it we were in the car and going for a vacation. It wasn't a vacation that I looked forward to. We had left Dani in the house and he still hadn't moved since I last saw him. Dad tried to calm me down a little bit, but when I kept crying he told me to shut up and squeezed my wrist very hard before buckling me into place.
Flashing blue and red lights woke me up. It wasn't the sirens, so we hadn't been pulled over, but there was a cop car behind us. I could see my mom tensing on her seat and noticed that the car started going a little faster.
"What are you doing?" Mom asked.
Dad didn't reply, instead just accelerating very fast. Mom started screaming wildly and then reached for the wheel. I heard the sirens behind me and then the car swerved a little bit, making my hit my head against the window and start crying again. The car turned to the side very fast and I saw a big semi truck that was coming from the other side. It was going to hit me.
My dad hit my mom very hard with the elbow and then hit reverse, but the truck hit us and I was instantly knocked out.
I don't know how, but my body broke through the window and then landed under the rolled car. My leg hurt a lot, more than when Dad hit me. My side hurt really bad and I couldn't cry without it hurting, but it hurt so much I couldn't stop crying. I knew boys weren't supposed to cry, but I screamed loudly, calling for my mom to help me.
The driver of the semi got here first. He looked at the ruined car and then at me before running his hands through his hair. He began babbling before asking me if I was fine.
"What have I done?" he kept asking himself.
It wasn't your fault.
I realized that I had fallen to my knees and was gripping Dani's gravestone tightly. I opened my eyes to look at the green grass before looking back up. I didn't know how to feel, but there was an incredibly amount of what one could only describe as wrath.
Schitzo was standing behind Dani's gravestone with his arms crossed behind his back.
"Dani?" I asked him.
"Nope. I'm all you," he replied.
"I thought you were him," I said. "I thought you were my older brother."
"You're the eldest kid, Francisco," he told me. "There never was an older brother."
"What the hell is wrong with me?"
"Genetics," he replied. "Your mother was a psychopath or something, you just so happened to get the genes. Your father was an alcoholic and wife-beater and that damaged you. Gotta admit, you have one hell of a suppression reflex. I'm surprised that it took you this long to break past those barriers."
"Fucking hell," I grunted, standing up. "I had a shit fantasy world in my head for the past thirty years and the reality was even worse."
"What can I say?" he asked. "You're fucked up."
"The came ONI?" I asked.
He sighed. "That's what I don't know for sure. You were always a ticking time bomb, but whatever they did to you might've made it worse. I mean, you're talking to a hallucination in the middle of a cemetery for God's sake."
"Fuck. This. Shit," I said. "Half my team just died, I make peace with my mother, and now I find out she killed my younger brother because he was crying? She killed my fucking dad!"
"Just when he was trying to be better, too," Schitzo added.
"That fucking bitch."
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked.
"She ruined my life."
"Yes."
"She killed my brother."
"Yes."
"My father."
"Yes."
"Uncle Manuel wouldn't have died if not for her!"
"Yes."
I kicked softly at the ground, suddenly eerily calm. The wind was blowing softly and the sounds of a megacity seemed to fade into little more than background noise. My head had been pounding but the pain disappeared and my heart started beating slower and slower until it went back down to its usual rhythm. I felt a lot better than I had before that trip to the past. I sighed and stretched myself to my full height. I took a deep breath and started walking back out. I felt like having some carnitas.
"You know, I get a lot of vague description by kids that want to piss off their rich parents."
"Maybe you shouldn't have gained a reputation for being the best tattoo artist in the city," I replied.
"Western hemisphere," he corrected with a small shrug. "Although there are a few in Miami that might disagree."
"For what you're charging me, I hope you're right."
He laughed. "I am," he assured me. "What's your name again?"
"Frank," I said. "Or Lieutenant."
"Alberto, or Beto if you want. You're UNSC or Mexican Defense Forces?"
"UNSC. Whatever happened to the URNA Army?"
"Didn't stick," he said. "Canadians didn't want that. Something about their independence and whatnot."
"I'm surprised the Americans went with it in the first place."
"They were happy to," he said. "Ever since their civil war… Look at me rambling about events that happened centuries ago. What was it you wanted again?"
"My left arm. I want it inked."
He sighed. "Alright. Take off your shirt."
I complied and sat down.
"Nice bod, man. Got an impressive set of scars too. Turn around."
I did so after a quick roll of my eyes.
Beto whistled. "Shit dawg. That's one nasty back you've got. It's going to be hard to work around those scars, especially the long one."
"I don't want my back tattooed," I said.
He chuckled. "They all say that. I notice you already have some ink. Oh, ODST? Should I be concerned."
"No."
"Don't worry, I get a lot of your type. Shock Troopers take their ink seriously. They'll pay top dollar for it. You know, whoever tattooed your right arm did a good job. Was he the instructor?"
"Yeah," I said. "One of them. Used a needle gun too."
"Most people now use molds, crappy things if you ask me, but they're good if you just want letters or numbers."
"So I've heard."
"Who did your left arm?" he asked. "It's a weird combination, but they are obviously in the same style." Beto grabbed my arm and examined the ink. "Huh, they're not even from the same session, are they?"
I looked down at the three tattoos in the arm. One of them was a raven or a crow, I had put it there to honor Scarecrow's memory many years ago. Stefánia had done a great job with it, above it was a black cross for Almers, and above that a Corpsman insignia with highly angular wings instead of the more traditional curved ones. Two dates stood on either side of the insignia, the birth and death dates of Hanna Lockley. I rarely talked about that one, but it was always present in my mind.
"So, what do you want?" he asked for the second time, gesturing for me to sit down. "So far you've mentioned three things, a grim reaper, a knife, and Mary's little lamb. Odd trio, even by tattoo standards."
I shrugged.
"You know," he went on, "tattoos are supposed to have a meaning. This shit will stay in you forever, you might as well make it important."
"Curious attitude for a tattoo artist."
He laughed. "And it looks beautiful too. But all kidding aside, why do you want that. In fact, I would like to know what those three in your left arm mean if I'm going to merge them with a sleeve."
I sighed. "Bird near the wrist is after a man I lost in combat. He wasn't the first, but it hit me hard. We called him Scarecrow."
"Alright, seems like straight up symbolism. Cross?"
"Our squad medic. Sander Almers."
"Why do you have a corpsman insignia over that then? Not the official one either, a little bit stylized."
"Hanna, she was my girlfriend," I explained calmly. "She wasn't in my unit, but she was a corpsman too."
"And that's what you got?"
I nodded. "I didn't know what else to do. To this day I feel like I should've gotten something else, but it is who she was. A medic that died helping other people."
Beto leaned a bit back in his stool and spun side to side. "The serial numbers I can figure out… How long have you been in the Marines for?"
"A long time," I sighed. "I enlisted back in '33."
"Huh, about to get your big twenty. If you're still alive by then feel free to come back and get something to celebrate. I'll even give you a discount."
"Don't expect it," I said. "Back to the tattoo."
"Yes. A knife, why?"
I shrugged lightly before reaching down to my ankle and pulling out the Damascus steel knife and showing it to him. "This puppy's saved my life more times than I can count."
"Beautiful blade," he said, admiring the pattern. "May I?"
"Go ahead."
He grabbed it and spun it a couple of times. "Terrible balance."
"It throws well," I assured him.
"How long have you had this for?"
"Nineteen years."
"No wonder you can throw with it, it's a lovely knife, feels strong too, but I get the feeling that it wasn't made for throwing."
"It is a hybrid blade," I explained. "The center of gravity is not where you'd expect it because it was designed to be both a knife and to have a certain degree of throwing capabilities. Took a long time to get used to it."
"I bet," he agreed. "Do you want this blade design exactly?" Beto asked.
"If you could, it would be ideal."
He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I love a challenge, and those patterns are going to be fun to paint. One recommendation though, I'd keep it with dark grays, reds and blacks."
"You're the artist."
He nodded. "Very well then, forearm?"
"Yeah, outside."
"Good, good. Now, why the reaper?"
"My squad's call name. We made it through a lot. Some of them still fight with me."
"Good, good. Any particular preference? Do you want a skull, just the cloak, a little bit of both?"
"I'm not really sure about that one," I admitted. "Any suggestions?"
"As a matter of fact I do," he said. "I've been working on a design. Here, wait a sec."
He reached back and pulled a datapad from inside a drawer before tapping it and then producing a picture. It was a curious design, mixing fantastic and current elements. The skull itself was vaguely human, but most of the lower part was covered with the cloak. However, the design of the cloak was what interested me, it was made to look like a type of misty darkness, straddling the line between solid and gas. The cloak itself didn't seem to cover the chest of the reaper, which looked like you'd expect a man that had died of hunger to look like, but Beto had made the reaper to look strong and powerful as opposed to starving. Let's not forget about the scythe, no reaper is truly a reaper without its tool of the trade. It was a bit wider than your usual staff and the cloak seemed to merge with it. The only thing I wasn't sure of was the blade itself, it was still traditionally curved, but it was fixed upwards, like a spear.
"I like it," I admitted. "But it could be better."
"I'm open to suggestions, it's you I'm putting this on."
"Not convinced by the scythe, it's a spear, not a scythe. Then there's the chest. I like how you made it look, but it looks vulnerable."
"It's hard to make it look more powerful when I'm going for the starving look," Beto said defensively.
"Think you can make it look like ODST armor?" I asked him. "Not actual ODST armor, but maybe make the cloak kind take that form in the chest?"
He smiled. "I can do that. I take it this one will go on the upper arm?"
"Yeah."
"Good then. Now we only have to talk about that little lamb."
"Another friend of mine," I said. "Her name was Marina Bogdanovic. She was the best damn pilot I ever knew. Braver than most ground troops in any case. For a long time she was the one in charge of dropping and picking up my team. She never failed us and not once did she let us down. She'd go into areas that would be considered death traps by most sane men."
"And why do you want a little lamb?"
I smiled. "Her first Pelican was painted with streaks and she called it Mary's Little Lamb . The name was painted on the side below the cockpit."
Beto smiled with me. "Sounds like a hell of a gal."
"She was," I agreed.
"I know just what to do," he said. "It's hard to make a little lamb badass, especially when it's going next to reaper and a knife. Then again, we're forgetting about the other important aspect of a lamb. When it becomes a ram."
I shook my head with a small smile. "You got an idea?"
"Yeah, let me sketch you something."
It took him around a minute before he presented me with a piece of paper. He had drawn a ram from a head-on perspective, it looked like it was about to, well, ram you. The horns looped one full time before turning to the sides and the animal looked like it meant business.
"I was thinking we do all black for the head," Beto said. "A little shading, but no features other than the shades for depth."
"I like it," I admitted. "Now, should it go near my elbow or inside of my arm?"
"Inside of your arm," he said. "Bicep is a pretty good place for this one."
"We have the three things I wanted," I said. "But how do you link them into a sleeve?"
"Patterns," he said. "Or we can add smaller tattoos that merge them. In all likelihood I'll end up filling in the unused skin with a pattern that fits the main theme, but having other tattoos would be good."
"Hmm…" I hummed.
"You know what's been popular lately?" he asked. "I take it you've heard of the so-called Legendary Symbol?"
I chuckled and nodded. "Hunter shield, elite skull, and crossed knives?"
"Or any variation thereof," Beto said with a nod and a smile. You like it?"
"I could see myself getting that somewhere."
"What about the bottom third of your upper arm and top of the elbow?" he asked. "I can make it around five by five centimeters. Hell, I can probably fit three different ones in there. You get your standard elite skull and knives one, then slight variations."
"Human skull with battle rifles," I said. "I liked that when I saw it."
He scribbled something down in the piece of paper. "Want a third one?"
"No," I said. "I want the human skull in the inside and the elite skull on the outside."
"Alright… There's going to be some leftover space, not a lot, but some."
"We've got time," I said. "We'll need to fill out the skin between the knife and the other tattoos in the forearm," I added.
"Yeah," he agreed. "No need to rush it though."
"Let's get started then," I said. "Wait, there's a list of numbers I want you to add to my right forearm. Ten numbers."
Beto nodded solemnly. "Should be twenty minutes before I get to the real work. You've got anywhere to be?"
I shook my head.
"Good, cause I want to see this puppy when it's done and I don't want to wait. It's going to take a few hours. Around seven if I do it right."
"That's why I showed up early," I told Beto. "You'd better not mess this up."
"I won't," he promised. "It'll be my best work."
I took a deep breath and leaned back on the chair, closing my eyes as the tattoo gun started whirring and Beto began doing his thing.
The arm felt numb, but no longer stung as bad. I had to switch the phone to my right hand and pressed it against my ear.
"Hospital Santísima Trinidad, how may I help you?"
"Put Doctor Mochon on please. It's Francisco Castillo."
"One moment please."
"Lieutenant Castillo? Good to hear from you."
"Likewise Doctor," I said.
"What can I help you with?"
"Disconnect her."
"What?"
"Disconnect her. Send me all the forms you need to have filled out."
Thanks to General TheDyingTitan for proofreading this chapter. I intended to submit this one three days ago, but my other beta couldn't be contacted. Then I went skiing for spring break and all that.
So that's one mystery solved. I'd say more, but I just came from several hours of snowboarding and I'm what you'd call fucking tired as fuck, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you thought.
Stay strong.
-casquis