“Sure, but do you want that child fighting along with you?”
“Of course not.”
“You don’t understand, Adam. This war is serious, our enemy is vicious. We’re vastly outnumbered, and the outcome could rest on the actions of a single individual. Every available being has to assume its most capable form, fully grown and prepared for combat, or we’re sure to be enslaved. Are you willing to risk that for the sake of childhood, either your own, or the children you father?”
This is terribly depressing, but my conviction to freedom is undeniable.
“No.”
“And think about the people fighting along with you, like Matt and David. Not only are they good friends, they’re experienced soldiers, loyal to you and your cause. Suppose they’re killed, then what are you going to do? Wait until they grow up again?”
“There’s no time for that.”
“Right. That’s why we do it this way. Instead of waiting years, you’re back together and ready to go the same day.”
Yeah, ready to go. To war.
* * *
Madison suggests that we bathe, and starts exploring the garden, lured on by the faint trickle of nearby water. We follow the sound and find a calm stream sparkling under late afternoon sun. She skips down the bank and slips into the shallow current, gently streaming past her hips. She leans forward to immerse herself, then snaps up to fling back her wet mane.
Beads of moisture cling to her golden skin and reflect intense flashes of sunlight. This irritating sensory input makes me uneasy, I must squint and look away. The bright flashes remind me of something, but the memory is unclear. Whatever it was, I don’t want to see it again.
I descend the bank and join her. The water is cool, a nice relief from the warm day. Scooping water with her hands, she cleanses herself of our encounter. I step through the current and assist her. She returns the same, and together we bathe each other.
“Madison, I’m confused. If none of us are having children, what about Matt?”
“What about him?”
“You said he’s your brother. But if what you say is true, none of us have parents. So how could he be your brother?”
“Well, he is my brother. Or I should say,
was
my brother, because he was, a long time ago, before the war. We may have different bodies now, but some things never change, and having Matt as my little brother is one of them. A lot of people follow each other around like that, forming families that used to be families before, or even longtime friends.”
Of all the memories revived today, many bizarre to even imagine, her idea of siblings is not so outrageous. As one encounters likable people along the way, why not continue spending time with them? How many brothers and sisters might I have? Countless. And what about wives, or even girlfriends? An unsettling thought. Some things may be better left forgotten.
* * *
Back on shore, we search for our clothes. I almost expect Matt to show up and tell us how sick it makes him. Brotherly love can be odd at times. What will he have to say about today’s adventure?
As I step into my jeans, I notice Madison has gathered her things but isn’t bothering to get dressed. She wanders away naked.
“Hey, wait for me.”
I hurry to button my jeans, grab my shirt, vest and boots, and chase after her. She looks back and smiles, then disappears behind a hedge. The maze of plant life hides all but the occasional sound of her laughter. I thrash and swipe, pushing past dense overgrowth, then emerge in a grassy meadow. She’s climbing the embankment, heading back to the forest.
“Hey, wait up!”
She reaches the top and slips from view. She’s teasing me and enjoying every minute of it. I charge up the hill, slicing through tall grass, determined to catch her.
Back to the shady forest, my search is magnified. The woods are full of wandering units, all naked. Which one is Madison?
There she is—the long dark hair, that’s her. I creep up from behind, wrap an arm around her tummy, and pull tight. She’s not getting away from me this time.
She whirls around, groping madly and humping my leg. Not Madison. The female, while certainly gorgeous, needs to learn some manners. She’s getting my jeans wet. I pull free and tear off into the forest, any direction will do, just get me away from that mindless thing.
Ahead is another female with dark hair, past leafy branches hanging low, masking a decent view. The skin tone may be off a bit, but the forest shade could be casting a shadow. The hair’s a little different, but close, and the hips are about right . . .
What’s wrong with me? Just go for it.
“Madison?”
Before she can respond, a male unit glides in and sweeps her off her feet, both tumbling through a bed of leaves as they begin to . . .
No, that couldn’t be her. She wouldn’t do that with him, would she? Well, if it is her, I have earned my just rewards. The failure to assert myself has left me out in the cold.
From behind, fingers caress my shoulder. I twist around to face another female, this one with better manners, as she is simply running fingertips along my skin, curiously indulging in the sensation rather than groping me with wild abandon. It’s the woman, or unit, that was spying on us earlier, from behind the tree. Or its twin. There could be more than one, as Mac explained. She is beautiful, her skin light and silky, rusty hair long and straight. She seems familiar, and might be if not for the hollow gaze, that colorless dull gray. Regardless, her soft touches give rise to many sensations. Against my better judgment, I reach out and slide fingers along her side, and lower, to the slope of her hip. Her skin is incredibly smooth, as if brand new, and our gentle exchange, while perfectly innocent, may be the first step toward an exchange of greater pleasures, not so innocent. I’m becoming aroused. Is this okay? Her fingertips glide across my bare chest as we ease closer, nearing a kiss.
I’m yanked backward, stumbling over a log, and land in a spiny thicket. I raise a hand over my brow to shade bright sun coming through the trees.
“What the hell are you doing?” Madison stands over me, naked except for the wad of clothing under one arm, and she’s pissed.
“Looking for you,” I say.
“You seem to be easily distracted.”
“Her? That was nothing. I was just curious.”
She yanks me upright. “Watch who you get curious with.” She gets in my face. “You might get hurt.” Her fiery stare intensifies, then she storms off in a huff, back to the forest path.
She’s right, I am easily distracted, this time by the rousing swing of her hips as she stalks away, naked as the day she was born. Or rather, the day that gorgeous body was manufactured.
* * *
On our way back to the farmhouse, Madison starts getting into her clothes. Each time she pauses to add another item, I take the chance to say I’m sorry, which prompts her to postpone dressing and hurry along. After a dozen apologies, we’re dressed again and she agrees to forgive me, but not very sincere, more like she’s annoyed or distracted and wants me to shut up already. She keeps looking to the sun hanging low in the sky, just above the treetops.
Back at the farmhouse, we find Mac in the living room, reading a book and sipping tea. He sets the book down and motions to the sofa, inviting us to stay and socialize, even offers to fetch us drinks, anything we’d like.
“No, Mac,” Madison says. “Maybe another time. We have a long ride ahead of us.”
She hauls me out the front door and Mac follows to offer his good-byes. Three seconds of me shaking his hand is all she can stand before dragging me down the steps. I was only trying to be polite. Mac stands on the porch watching as we don our jackets and helmets.
“Stop by for a visit anytime,” he says, like he already misses us.
Someday perhaps, but if for another body, not anytime soon, I hope. Knowing a fresh vehicle awaits does little to ease the painful thought of losing the one I have.
Mac waves good-bye, then he turns to the front door and shuffles inside, back to his world of mindless drones. We should have stayed longer, spent the night even, at least one night. He’d probably like that, sit and talk awhile, with real people. I would if I were him, but not Madison. She can’t leave fast enough, ready to sit me on the bike herself.
“What’s your hurry?” I ask.
“It’ll be dark soon.” She looks to the day’s last sun punching through the trees.
I study the forest, but can’t see anything past the orange glow. “They turn into zombies or something?”
She smirks. “They manage that day or night.” She taps her wrist, at a nonexistent timepiece. “Time to go.”
Maybe I’ll buy her a watch someday, to replace the imaginary one.
“All right, we’re going.”
When I lift a leg over the bike, I’m paralyzed by a shooting pain, up my insides and ending in my chest. Then it’s gone as quick as it came.
“You okay?” she asks.
“How about you drive this time. I’m not feeling so good.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, just a little beat.”
She giggles. “Yeah, I bet you are.”
I scoot back on the seat and let her have control this time. Driving is good, but riding is good, too. I wrap my arms around her tummy and hold tight.
She maneuvers the bike up the bumpy road, and we get back to the highway. At the intersection, she glances over her shoulder. “Just how fast does this thing go?” She grins, then twists the throttle wide open and banks onto the highway, the bike nearly on its side and my knee skimming over coarse asphalt. The bike snaps upright when we straighten out, she runs up through the gears, and our rocket ride only accelerates. Speed so intense, I can barely hang on or find my next breath.
The sun follows alongside, funny how that works, the land around us screaming past while the mighty orb matches our pace, so far away that after miles it hasn’t budged, other than dropping below the horizon well before we might reach home. Our trek continues under magenta evening sky, and further into night, one lonely headlight guiding our way along the darkened highway. As we travel homeward, time passes quickly, as if the ride back is shorter than the journey out. Likely due to the ridiculous speed she applies to the motorcycle, but more than that, somehow the return trip always feels bound by different rules of time and distance. It just goes by faster. As in dreams, where time and distance do as they please.
But this is no dream. It had better not be. Don’t let me wake to a cold bed and empty arms. I squeeze tighter and cling to her warm body. Let this dream come true continue.
* * *
Rolling through quiet streets, we cruise toward the beach. The ocean is calm, reflecting bright moonlight, our exhaust the only sound, rumbling low. Madison slows the bike and turns in to the alley. She reaches into her jacket, clicks the garage opener, and jabs the throttle. Fires spits from the exhaust and we rocket past the opening door, then she slams on the brakes and nearly throws me from this bucking bronco.
“Was that really necessary?” I ask.
She kills the engine and springs off the seat. “Maybe not, but it was kind of fun, don’t you think?”
“What I think is, next time I’ll drive. At least the heart attack will be my own fault.”
Pulling my leg over the seat is a chore, and when my foot drops, the floor doesn’t feel all that solid. No, the floor is fine. The problem is my legs, rumbled to putty by the bike’s droning roar.
Dave bursts into the garage. “Where have you been? We had important things to do, remember? This is no time for joy rides.”
Madison removes her helmet and flings her hair into place. “Just shut up, David. We
were
doing important things, helping Adam remember more, so he can remember what to do next.”
Since when is it my job to say what we do? Let someone else, I’m in no mood for any of that, not right now.
“Look, Dave, I’ve had a rough day.” I get my helmet off. “Madison wore me out, if you know what I mean.”
Dave is aghast. His horrified glare shifts to her. “Right, real important stuff to remember, like how to get it on.”
Madison turns nasty, the bad kind of nasty. She lands a finger on Dave’s chest and jabs hard. “It
is
important, David. Knock it off with all the technical stuff, and all that serious, depressing, doom and gloom end of the world crap, like remembering any of that is going to make him better. He needs to know who he is, too, and what he
feels.
”
Dave swats her hand away. He looks poised to strike. He can’t be that barbaric, she is a woman, though given his contempt, he might use words more colorful.
We make it around the house as they continue arguing, their voices growing louder, fighting to shout over the other. I wish they’d shut up. Let’s have some peace and quiet while I lie down and relax. My entire body feels melted, except my chest is tight, and I’m out of breath, almost dizzy. Past the front door, I make a beeline for the sofa and plop down.
Matt comes out of the kitchen, hears their argument, and his eyes go wide. “You did what?” He blasts Madison, “Sex is all you think about.
You slut!
”
Oh man, here come the flames. “You watch your mouth.” She advances on him, aiming to rip his head off. “You’re not my master.”
“Right,” Matt says. “But what about Chris?”
Madison halts.
I’ve heard that name before. When Madison mentioned the crew.
“Who’s Chris?” I ask.
Madison says to Matt, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“Sure,” Matt says. “She’s not a whore, like you.”
She lunges and pins him to the wall. I leap from the sofa, and despite crushing pain of my chest in a vise, insert myself between the two.
“Now hold on!” I holler. “Who is Chris?”
Matt finally realizes my question but doesn’t answer. Instead he looks to Dave. “He really doesn’t know, does he?”
Dave studies me, then says to Matt, “I don’t think so.”
Madison steps back, getting uncomfortable with all this.
Matt starts for the wall of photos, muttering as he moves off, “I think Maddie should tell him. It’s only fair after what she’s done today.”