Oh, my word! I noticed something…
I am so inconsistent with my formatting! It is appalling.
And how could you guys not tell me my links are broken?! Half of my links aren’t working. Here I am linking away and all the while it is redirecting to the same stupid login thing!
I am so sorry.
I will get on fixing this ASAP.
In the meantime…
The torture of little girls aside, I really think the last installment was just too short. But I didn’t want to break the intensity. Because we are in the interim now, so this time I will take things a little slower and give you time to catch your breath.
Plus, you’ll notice a new little addition - Previously - Still a work in progress, but it’s a kung-fu philosophy of continual improvement.
Previously… After Elle’s unfortunate incident, and the manor coming down, Logan, Luke, and a gravely injured Tom must find refuge, so they can piece together the shattered remains of their lives.
INDEX | Chapter Three | Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Next Scene →
Luke's mountain cabin is settled on the inner edge of a dormant volcanic crater, on the Southern face of the Cascades Mountain range. The Estate was built almost in the range's shadow, so we are technically only a few kilometers from home but the way the mountains shelter this hollow makes it inaccessible to most pilots. A near-constant covering of clouds and snow makes it feel isolated and remote, as though we have left the whole world behind.
The house feels strange and unwelcoming, even though the style and interior decorating are similar to the manor's. We have only ever stayed here a few days at a time. Holidays, Luke always called them.
The decision to come here was pure logic.
There hadn't been time since we got home to restock the ship, which was fortunate or it would've been in the hangar rather than the garden, but it also meant that most of our supplies were already low, and without the blood and the emergency kit I grabbed on my way out, Luke would have had to improvise for sutures and dressings, and probably rig a direct transfusion between Tom and me.
The cabin's lab is small, but nowhere Luke works will ever be without a basic medical stockpile.
Sitting under the fluorescent lights, Luke buzzing around me, I stare at Elle while thinking of my brother. I hardly feel the tug of the Vicryl as my freshly de-shrapnel-ed shoulder gets stitched up, nor do I notice the sting of the antiseptic as Luke dabs it on before applying a clean dressing.
He limps slightly, with the cane, trying not to put pressure on his left side. It reminds me that he is bandaged from hip to knee. The gauze pad pasted on his neck pokes out from beneath his crisp navy blue shirt, as he pulls off the latex gloves and tosses them in the wastebin. He looks a little paler than usual but is otherwise only a little tired. It took all night to stabilize Tom, and he only tended to his own wounds after.
I got off lightest. The few shards of lonsdaleite fiber that I had to dig out myself, without anesthetic were nothing compared to sharing the sensation of Luke pulling inches of mangled hospital bed from my brother's abdomen, as if my, our, intestines were being torn out through a keyhole.
Tom is sleeping peacefully now, lucky to be alive. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him.
Elle is strapped into a gurney, dressed at least, in another hospital gown and laid out all neatly. While Luke ties off the last stitch in the cut on my cheek, I picture her as she was in the infirmary on the ship, crumpled haphazardly on a table, covered only by a dusty lab coat, and I question whether or not I should feel anything towards her. She is the reason Tom is in the state he is in, after all, the reason we all are.
All that damage, yet there isn't a scratch on her.
* * *
"Hey, brother." Tom croaks and I sit up a little, shifting my focus from the sky-blue sheets and light oak that constitute his bedroom, to my brother's face. He has been asleep for four days. I mutter a greeting and hand him a cup of cold water. It feels like I've been sitting at various bedsides for a month.
"How bad?" He groans, pushing himself up and flopping back down into the welcoming pillows with a grunt. I meet his gaze and pause looking grim as I put the cup back on the nightstand so he doesn't have to reach across. I lift the corners of my lips slightly, "A few bumps and bruises. Luke's neck and shoulder looked pretty bad but he took care of it, and I got away with a few scratches but, you, well... We repaired what we could, but your left leg." I shake my head with my lips tightly pressed together.
Tom's hands immediately shoot towards his hip with a painful groan, and I can't take it anymore. I start to laugh. The look on his face!
"No, brother. you're still all there, by some miracle. Flesh-wound, believe it or not." He nods weakly, relieved and I relent. "In a few weeks, you'll be all better." Smiling brightly, I help him place an extra pillow and he lays back gratefully.
"Have you been home?" He asks, a hint of dismay in his tone.
"Yeah, I stopped by, just to have a look, the day after. Luke couldn't get away so I loaned him my eyes."
Tom listens avidly, seeming more alert by the minute as I shiver, recounting the details of what it felt like standing in the pile of rubble that used to be our home.
"The official story is a lab accident, which, viewed in a certain light, is not completely untrue. I imagine it took a few favors but thanks to the dubious nature of much of Luke's past research, it doesn't seem to have raised too many eyebrows, even though half the manor is destroyed."
"Destroyed?" He inquires with one raised eyebrow, sitting up a little more.
"To be fair, it happened in a sort of gentle way. There was no real shock wave, no actual explosion, and a lot of dust but no real debris scattered all over the place. The blast damage was confined to the lab with no burns or fires. It wasn't even hot. The walls crumbled and fell down where they were. The foundations and grounds, saturated with energy, just disintegrated into a pile of dust. There is quite the crater and really half of the house is gone, but it looks more like some kind of fantasy time warp bubble of accelerated aging went off than a bomb."
"That’s going to raise some eyebrows for sure,” Tom pauses, taking a minute to absorb what I’ve just told him, then with a hint of his usual charm says, “I guess it looks like this will have to be home for a while then." He smiles wearily, then almost as an afterthought asks, "What does Luke have to say?"
"He says and I quote: ‘It won't be a problem.’ I think the PG might be involved, but I've hardly seen him. Aside from your treatment and the odd meal, he has closeted himself in his lab since we got here. We did talk once, just after I got back. He pointed out how much control must have taken to release such a magnitude of raw energy. The analysis from the portable scanner he sent with me, says the amount of power was akin to a small nuclear explosion. There’s even some latent radiation, but nothing dangerous. It's just, that much power... It's just scary." I shake my head looking out the small window at the not-too-distant jagged peaks. "We got lucky. The staff were off duty, and the skeleton crew was in the other wing. Of all the people that were in the house at the time, we were the only ones that took more than a few bumps." I smile meeting my brother's intense brown gaze. "It'll take months to rebuild, and you know Luke, perfectionist as he is. He'll want every stone restored to its former glory.”
“Good thing we are insured against everything from earthquakes to meteor strikes and every imaginable scenario in between." Tom chuckles, then stops, holding his stitches. "And her?" He winces, stretching to get another drink of water.
"Elle is unhurt, actually, which is hard to believe, but she hasn't woken. Luke says coma. High amplitude delta oscillations in her brain or something." I mimic his haughty tone.
"Poor little girl," Tom mutters laying back down to sleep with a sorrowful sigh.
I am not sure I share his pity.
Next time: With everyone in recovery from their various injuries, Luke has to manage some expectations and get the rebuild of their home on track. And who is this PG we keep hearing about?
I found this thing!
I like the idea.
Keep in mind that your answers will affect how aggressively I pursue finding a way to go paid, because money makes the world go round, and making sound files that sound good takes so much time and energy, and I have a (wonderful) husband and two (adorable) kids, but I am also only a human being.
Okay, that was a little forward of me. Sorry, but I really do care what you think.
And no matter your answer, I will probably not get around to it right away, but I am working on getting there. Promise.
As always, if you like what you read, please let me know.
If you want to support my finishing this project,
or
And I will be back Friday to delight you with more Bottled Embers. 😁
I like the previously/next time additions, helpful in navigating the story.
"it looks more like some kind of fantasy time warp bubble of accelerated aging went off than a bomb." I love this description!
Thanks Jenny and keep up the good work!
I guess it's what I get for joining the show a little bit later than most... but you already closed the poll on two votes? First about this scene, which continues with engaging, well written prose. The scene is mostly about how impressive the release of energy was from Miss Elle and as such maybe a little more than necessary. Of course there is some additional character development as well. Anyway about the development of an audio version of your story, I'll give my two cents anyway, ha! Do it to use as a proof read of your text and to spot problems, but unless you are already an experienced voice actor or narrator I wouldn't right now as a product to release to readers. You were right about the considerable time investment required, multiples of the amount of finished publishable product. And diety forbid you are thinking of using one of the text to voice AI tools!