The Nebraska Encounter (part 3)

PART 3

Day 223 post-Virus; continuation from previous storage device

We’d been shooting the shit for a few hours, chatting about subjects ranging from everything to nothing, when the kid stopped quite suddenly, almost as though afraid. Actually no, scratch that, it wasn’t so much fear as much as concern.

“We’d better set up camp, it’s not safe to travel by night anymore.”

“What are you talking about kid? I’ve been perfectly fine, travelling by day and night for the past 7 months!” As I finished my sentence, he gave me a look of disbelief.

“People weren't the only things changed by the plague. I’ve seen bears that can throw boulders with their minds, birds that are flying biohazards, and even talking cacti for christ’s sake. We aren’t going to take any chances; we’re setting up camp.”

It was my turn to sport an expression of disbelief.

“I’m sorry, one second. Just the one. It won’t take much longer to clear up what I’m sure is just an error in communication. You’ve seen what now?”

“I’ve seen things that would scare Lovecraft and would drive Lewis Carroll insane. The things i’ve seen aren’t natural and by NO means should they even exist but they do. Trust me, they do. ”

The disbelief was still firmly in place.

“You know what, I’ve had too much to drink to really care. You want to set up camp? Okay buddy, let’s set up camp.”

We unpacked our bags, mine containing only my mummy-style sleeping bag and him a whole array of things. It was at this point that I realised that although I was the one with almost unlimited carry capacity — floating box constructs were about to become central to my lifestyle and travel — he was far better equipped. This kid was really something else.

“You know you’re going to die out here, right? This isn’t any old apocalypse. Look at yourself you can make things pop out of thin air, and you’re almost frying out here. Do you really think that there isn’t someone stronger or hungrier out there? You need to be prepared for anything and if you aren’t prepared you’re dead.”

“I can handle myself kid. I mean, I say that but I’ve had it easy so far, mainly followed rivers and the like, natural boundaries. Not encountered any of these “monsters” you speak of. I’ve hear some weird rustling in the underbrush at night, but nothing major... Listen, in case you do have a point, let me try something.”

I dropped my stuff and concentrated, thought of a cocoon enveloping me. Slowly but surely a thick, oval-pod-shaped construct covered me from head to toe. I could see through it, though everything was tinged an odd blue colour.

“Okay, now shoot me.”

“How are you breathing through that? It must be a foot thick? Also, I don’t have a gun.”

“Huh. That’s a good point. How am I breathing...Forget it, I’ll work on that in the morning. Just hit me with anything you do have. Be resourceful kid!”

“Umm okay, man...”

He proceeded to lightly kick my side....

“Seriously? I’m testing the upper limits of this thing’s tensile strength and that’s all you got?”

“I may be drunk but I’m not stupid, If I hit you over the head with a rock and it passes through, you could die. Are you sure about this?”

“Just.. try punching me in the stomach first. Hard. I can take that even if it breaks through. Not well, but I can take it...”

“Fine you asked for it.”

He pulled back, really put effort into it. I didn’t feel a thing — the kid, on the other hand did.

“Ah fuck, that hurt! I almost broke my freakin’ wrist! What is that thing even made of?”

“I... Don’t know! Energy, like I said! Did that really hurt? How bad? Are you willing to try again?”

“Fuck no!”

“Interesting... Okay, fetch my pack for me?”

“Freaking psychics. Never asking if you are alright or trying to help you. Nope just get me this, get me that. Here you go.”

“I’m not a psychic!” I called out as I knelt down, seemingly unimpeded.

“Huh, so I can move...” I mumbled. I unzipped the pack, took the scalpel from my tools and held it there. It was held firmly between the construct covering my fingers.

“Alright, last test. Stab me with the scalpel.”

“Gladly.”

He swung in what I considered a most unprofessional stabbing manner. The scalpel collided with the construct and crumpled. Surgical steel, swung by a big guy like Neville, just... Crumpled.

“Well, isn’t that something... Guess we know how I’m sleeping from now on!”

“I gotta admit, that is pretty neat; you really lucked out with your powers. I’m just happy that I'm not growing another limb or something worse...”

“And you have no powers that you know of?”

“Of course not! Do I really look like a meta to you? No enhanced speed or strength, no energy manipulation or creation of any kind. I am 100% human.”

That’s when it clicked. He really had no idea.

“Kid, I hate to break it to you, but I think those freaky results in the tests might have been a manifestation of a power. No human I have ever seen in a clinical setting has achieved those results. You’re a super, kid, just like the rest of us.”

“No I am not. I can’t be a super... I just have a good memory is all. There is nothing super about me.”

“Time for some of your own sarcastic medicine! ‘I can decrypt ROT-13-encrypted sentences in my head in a few seconds but I’m not a super’! C’mon kid, wake up and smell the roses.”

“So what's my power then? C’mon Doc psychoanalyze me, break me apart and pretend you know me.”

“One thing first: can you remember that list from earlier?”

“Banana, earthquake, Mauritania, shepherd, cow, mustang, zeppelin. Any idiot could tell you that.”

Again, more clicking. Everything was falling into place.

“No, any idiot could not. You are not ‘any idiot’; I think you’re the furthest thing away from an idiot now. You’ve become a genius of sorts, but not in an analytical or critical sense — your intelligence lies in your ability to remember, or rather, your inability to forget. I think that’s damaged you as much as it’s helped you.”

He seemed... Defeated, in a way. His shoulders slumped, he sighed and said to me:

“You’re right about most of it. I'm constantly reminded of everything that’s happened to me, but when I actually focus on remembering something... God. it’s like I’m still there. The sights, the sounds, the smells... Have you ever smelt the rotting stench of bodies left out? Of course you have, everyone left alive has... But I’m still there. I’ve tried come to terms with the death and decay of our world, I can deal with those memories. But you wanna know what I can’t deal with? It’s the constant reminder of what I had. It wasn’t a glamorous or rich life, but it was my life.”

“I hear you, I hear you... It must be incredibly tough. I guess learning was a way to stop thinking about the past...”

“I... I had to keep my mind occupied but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. I’m going down to Mexico to get away from it and it’s still not enough.”

He punctuated those last words individually, as if seething with rage. I think he was just powerless, and angry about that. In any case, I quickly sought to change the topic.

“Well hey, in all your reading, did you happen to find a way to fix a scalpel? Because you’ve ruined this one!”

He turned away.

“I’m going to bed and I suggest you do too.”

“Pfft, fine.”

I kept it nice and short, the kid seemed rattled and a little pissed off. What he’d said had made a lot of sense, and was kind of terrifying. My main concern, however, was that I was still out one scalpel, with no replacement for perhaps hundreds of miles.

THE NEXT MORNING

“Wake up doc, it’s time to for us to head out.”

He shook me. He shouldn’t have been able to, given that I should have been enveloped in an energy-cocoon, but as the saying goes, teaching an old doctor new sleeping methods involving a full body suit of armour which defies our current understanding of physics ain’t always a cakewalk.

“What time even is it, kid?”

“Oh about noon. I couldn’t really sleep last night, so I had some free time and wanted to give you this before I left.”

As he said this, he handed me a small shiny object. Keeping in mind that I had just awoken, and in a rather abrupt manner at that, it took me a few seconds to process.

“Is this... Is this my scalpel?”

“Turns out I did read a book on fixing surgical equipment. I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted. It wasn’t your fault, you were just trying to tell me something I didn’t want to know.”

“I... I appreciate it kid. I’m gonna take my time, you go on and leave. Good luck in Mexico, I hope you find what you’re looking for. And hey, if you ever need a doctor, just find me. I owe you one good bottle and a favour, my friend.”

“Ha, I’m going to hold you to that, seeya ‘round doc.”

And just like that, he left.

END RECORDING

END OF PART 3

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