Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three. The Welcome Wagon.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three. The Welcome Wagon.

Annisa stepped through the portal, winced as a wall of heat washed over her.

"Yeah, sorry about that, ought to have warned you, I guess," the man named Waters said, "we've been transferring out here in the Mojave, which as you can see is a desert."

He motioned for her to follow him to a long, low metal cart of some sort. It was beautiful, lines flowing smoothly together, painted a deep lustrous blue that glowed in the sunlight.

Waters walked her to the cart and opened the door for her, handing her down into the contoured seat, where she sank down into soft, buttery leather. Leather that was extraordinarily hot. He helped her secure herself into the seat with a set of straps that clicked into place.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

He moved around to the other side and entered the cart as well, sliding behind what appeared to be a wheel that you might find on a ship. Wincing, he apologized again, "Sorry, the sun turns the car into an oven; I'll crank the a.c. and cool down the seats."

Pressing a button in front of the wheel, she both heard and felt a gentle rumble, and a blast of hot air burst out of the slots in the dash. "Give it a second," Waters advised, fiddling with some sort of glass protrusion, swiping at it as a variety of glowing images flickered and changed.

Seconds later, the wind sweeping into the vehicle rapidly cooled down and became glacially cold. She started as the seat beneath and behind her cooled down as well.

"There we go," Waters muttered, settling into his seat. "I probably shouldn't have bought this," he confessed, "but I figured hey, I'm not paying rent or utilities anymore, or probably ever again, so why not?"

"Of course, I have my baby, but she's safely back over on Thayland," Waters continued, "and I needed something to drive back on Earth."

"You needn't justify yourself to me," Annisa offered him a smile.

"Oh, I'm justifying my own choices to myself," Waters grinned at her in return, "I have a car already, a beautiful car that I've spent way too much time and money restoring and keeping up with. I bought this Charger on impulse, partially because it's the newer version of my baby."

"I don't know what most of that means," she replied, "but this is a lovely car? Like a cart?"

"This cart has seven hundred horses under the hood," Waters's grin widened, and he moved a lever on the bench between them.

Reaching up, he pressed a few more icons on the glass plate, and suddenly she could hear eerie echoing notes, the sound coming from all around her. She clutched the handle of the door as Waters manipulated pedals with his feet, and with a growl barely audible over the rising notes, the car leaped forward, rushing to reach speeds greater than she could possibly run.

Another instrument joined the first, clearly of the same type, but playing in a different chord.

The landscape, all tones of yellow and gray, with only the occasional sad flash of green, sped past them as Waters drummed his fingers on the wheel, the flat dirt road leading them through the hills.

She could recognize the sound kicking in as drums, the notes of the other two instruments coming more quickly.

"I can't remember anything, can't tell if this is true, or dream. Deep down inside, I feel the scream; this terrible silence stops me," Waters sang along as a voice called out from all around her.

It was clearly music, but not like anything she'd ever heard before.

The car came to a quick halt as the dirt road ended against a new road, this one done in some sort of black and grey stone, with bright yellow lines down the middle and white lines along the side.

Waters piloted the car onto the new road, and the car tore loose of the road, the force of the acceleration pressing her back into the seat as the early rumbling noise rose to a roar, the landscape whipping by.

The pressure eased as they had apparently reached the appropriate speed, and she took a deep breath. They were nearly flying across the road, so smooth was the travel.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Waters said loudly over the music.

Annisa nodded. She was fairly certain he was talking about the car.

The music had gotten... harder, somehow, and faster.

"Now the world is gone, I'm just one, Oh God help me. Hold my breath as I wish for death, please God help me!" The voice pleading over the instruments was raw.

"What is this music?" She yelled.

"A Marine Corps anthem," he replied as the music reached a crescendo, the drums, and other instruments ringing out so rapidly it was hard to believe they were individual instruments.

"Darkness, imprisoning me, all that I see, absolute horror, I cannot live, I cannot die, trapped in myself, body my holding cell," the vocalist yelled. "Land mines, have taken my sight, taken my speech, taken my hearing, taken my arms, taken my legs, taken my soul, left me with life in hell!"

She waved her arms frantically, and Waters turned the volume down.

"Please," she said, "that's not only too loud, but the words..." she shook her head.

"Ah, sorry," he replied, tapping the screen a few more times, switching his attention from the screen to the road, causing the car to drift from side to side in a manner she didn't find very safe given the speeds they were traveling at.

"That was very... angry," Annisa offered.

"It's a song about a soldier who was wounded so badly that he couldn't see, hear, or speak, with no legs or arms, begging for the release of death," Waters replied, "it's not really a happy song."

"Is that a common theme for the music in this world?" Annisa asked.

"I guess?" Waters shrugged, "We have a lot of music, and while I don't have a lot of what you might call 'happy' tunes, I'm sure I can find something."

He shuffled through what she could see was a list of items on the glass. She understood the words, but they didn't make any sense without context.

She shook her head. There were only two hundred thousand people in Greenwold.

A map had replaced the list of music on the glass, moving with them as they headed to their destination. A pleasant female voice had been directing them, telling them when to turn, warning that a turn was ahead.

"In one thousand feet, your destination will be on the right," the cool female voice announced.

Waters pulled the car up a slight incline in front of the house, parking it beside another car, this one not quite as sleek, boxier, but just as clean and shiny.

Eric turned off the car and unbuckled his straps. "Let's do this," he grinned at her as he climbed out of the car.

Annisa escaped the confines of the vehicle and immediately stretched, relishing the freedom. While the car was nice and fast, it wasn't something she was eager to make long trips in.

Waters gestured for her to follow him, and he proceeded past the cars and up a stone walkway, ending in a door with glass panels set into it. He reached out and pressed a glowing rectangle, causing a chime to sound within the house.

They waited patiently for a few long minutes until a figure could be seen approaching the door. It swung inwards, revealing a human male, a bare fringe of closely cropped white hair remaining as a halo over a weathered and worn face. The old man broke into a smile as he peered at Waters shirt.

"What can I do for you, Corporal?" The old man asked.

"Lieutenant Colonel Smith?" Waters asked, and Annisa could see the old man's back straighten as he pulled himself up. "That's right," he agreed.

"Corporal Waters, sir, First of the First," Waters said, his own posture rigid, "may we come in?"

"Of course," the now identified Smith replied, gesturing for them to follow him as he hobbled down a short hallway with the aid of a cane she hadn't initially noticed.

As they made slow progress, she looked around, noting that there were incredibly lifelike paintings of the man's life. She could see the progression as he married, became a father, and then likely a grandfather. The woman that was presumably his wife stopped appearing in photos towards the end, and the last of the photos showed a man quite a bit younger and more hale than the one she saw in front of her.

"Have a seat," Smith offered as they entered a sitting room, with comfortable-looking couches and chairs, all arranged around another large panel of glass on a stand.

"What brings two young folks to come to see an old man this evening?" Smith asked after he'd lowered himself carefully into a chair.

Annisa marveled at the sleek material and the uniform softness and support of the couch. A fan spun slowly above them, creating a nearly unnoticeable breeze that kept the air from becoming stuffy.

"Sir, I'd like to first introduce you to Annisa, a civilian working on a project with a number of retired Marines," Waters gestured towards her, and she responded with a smile.

"Well, aren't you lovely," Smith winked at her, "if I were about seventy years younger, I'd ask you to a dance."

"Funny you should mention that," Waters replied, pulling out the glass slab he'd used at the 'gas station' and flipping through a series of images on the screen before pulling up one that showed Eric, missing his arm.

Smith peered at the image carefully and then looked closely at Waters.

"What's this about?" He asked warily.

"We need some help," Waters admitted, "and we need officers. I brought Annisa here to fix you up so that we could ask you to join us on a project." He shook his head ruefully, "We've got damn near a thousand Marines, sir, but no officers, just NCOs."

Smith snorted, "Best officer you can ask for is a Gunny," he said, "the rest of us are just doing work for them," he shook his head. "What do you mean fix me up? And what project?"

"Please," Annisa interjected, "just give me your hand for a moment," she smiled, "I swear by Vi'Radia, I mean you no ill."

She reached out and held the old man's hand, feeling the parchment-thin skin. She slipped her other hand into her satchel, keeping her eyes locked on his.

"I don't know very much," Annisa confessed, "Bob doesn't like to talk about this place, and I think I make Sergeant Mike nervous," she winked at him, "but from what I've seen and been told, Marines are the heroes right?"

"I've known a lot of Marines that fit that description, Ms," Smith agreed, his eyes going distant, "too many of them, truth be told."

Annisa kept smiling as she continued casting the reincarnation ritual. Normally this would be done in a temple, with the recipient laid out on an altar, but there was no temple, nor an altar. She'd developed the skill of splitting her concentration to allow her to speak while casting a few rituals she was intimately familiar with.

"Well," she began, "we have heroes where I came from too, except we call them Adventurers. They're the ones who stand against the darkness, risking life and limb against terrible foes to protect the innocent."

"Adventurers, eh?" Smith said, looking over to Waters, before returning his gaze to her.

"They aren't as well organized or as well disciplined as the Marines I've seen," Annisa admitted, "but I think they share the same heart, the same desire to protect."

"You're a little odd," Smith said, "and very pretty, which makes you holding my hand awfully flattering, or it would be if I weren't an old man," he stopped speaking and clutched at his chest with his free hand as he groaned.

"Say yes," Annisa urged him.

"Urghh...yes," Smith gasped.

Annisa smiled and released his hand as he was bathed in a golden light that seemed to sink into his flesh. Seconds later, the light infusing him flashed incandescent, the disappeared, leaving Smith leaning back on the couch, clutching his chest as he shook his head.

"What the-" he stopped at the sound of his own voice. He raised a hand in wonder and looked at the young, unlined skin. He flexed it into a fist, then looked up at her, his eyes clear.

"What the hell just happened?"