Outlaw

5. Calypso

Day 2

When I staggered up the next morning, my brain felt fuzzy due to the lack of sleep I had gotten. It wasn't my fault: my father's words kept floating around in my mind, keeping the lull of sleep at bay annoyingly. It suddenly hit me; one day left, one day until they started to come for me. I filled my water up at the stream on my right, if I kept by it, water wouldn't be a problem. The main issue would be good, I mean, I could hunt fairly proficiently with the small knife I kept in my boot. They unfortunate thing would be cooking whatever I caught - lighting a fire might give away my whereabouts and when they started chasing me it would be even more of a risk, a risk I wasn't willing to take.

Yet.

With that happy thought I packed up my sleeping mat and once again tied it to the top of my pack to continue the monotonous journey with which I was becoming all to familiar. Although the sounds of the woods were quiet and peaceful, my sleep deprived brain heard them as a tumult of jeering voices telling me I was a failure and I was going to die. All I wanted to do was shut the voices out, but doing that was like disconnecting yourself from a part of you brain; they were a part of me and, deep down, I knew they would be until the day I died (which may not be to far away with my luck).

The water flask on my back made what would have usually been a pleasant sloshing sound. But in my current state, it made me want to throw it far away from me. The rational part of me knew it was a bad idea, doing that would be more of a threat to my existence that the government crazy people chasing me in the long term. I resisted the urge to break something; doing so would only make my trail easier to follow. Today was not going well.

The wood which had been tranquil and pleasant to be in only yesterday was now the exact opposite. Every noise jarred my now sensitive ears (due to my tired state) and caused me to either flinch, twitch with annoyance, or something in between. It was, all together, the most unpleasant experience I've had since the day before yesterday. While wallowing in the self pity that was derived from the situation I currently found myself in, I forgot to pay attention to the surroundings. I was brought out of my daze by a thick tree branch to the face. The force of my impact sent me backwards, the floor coming up to meet me. It felt as though I was seeing the world from the bottom of a clear lake; everything swum before my eyes, contorting and spinning to create new and wonderful shapes, so much so it hurt my eyes. In the end, I had to close them, the fall, coupled with my sleepless night, sent me into a half stunned, half asleep daze.

When I opened my eyes I was lying on the floor of my room. As I sat up, rubbing my bruised head, I heard my mother call from downstairs:

"Calypso! Time for tea."

I was about to respond when it suddenly occured to me; my mother hadn't spoken in three years, I had forgotten her voice. It was soft and comforting like a warm summer breeze, but at the same time had an underlying sense of authority. Hers was a voice you would immediately listen to, a voice that would calm you down but also a voice you would follow without questioning if she asked you to. As I opened my mouth to respond, I heard a girl call from on the bed.

"Coming mother!"

It was me. But me from six years ago, a young me with no idea of the troubles yet to come. I - no, this girl was not me, I was so much more than her, she wasn't running for her life - she got up and walked through me and out the door. Wait. THROUGH me, was I a ghost? Had I already died? No. I had just fainted and this was a dream, a memory. I got to my feet and trudged down the stairs to the kitchen where she sat with mother at the table.

"Your dad should be home soon Cal,"

Cal. I'd forgotten she used to call me that. I mean, it wasn't like she said enough to call me anything these days  Just then the door was pushed aside, letting in a blast of cold air.

"Speak of the devil,"

Father, in flesh and blood, as alive as he had always used to be. He walked in through our front door, his hair as windswept as it had always been, despite mother's futile attempts to restrain it. I ran forward, wanting to hug him again, wanting to tell him I was sorry for what I had done. My wishes were not to be granted however, as I ran and he walked, when we met in the middle, I went to throw my arms around him, and stumbled as he passed through my embrace. It hurt me to know that the life I had had was so close I could touch it, and yet so far away. Mother sat at one side of the square table, father opposite, with her in between. They laughed and joked like I used to with them, although I knew in my heart she was just a younger version of me, it felt like they had replaced me, they had known what a failure I would be.

The scene shifted lots of times in quick succession

I was sat on the sofa in our living room, a fire crackling in the grate at the far end.

The trees rose up all around me as my father chased me through the woods, our combined laughter making a melodious harmony.

The world rippled like it had done earlier, but this was because I was lying on the bottom of the lake, anchored down by the stones I was gripping.

The scene stopped. I was back at the government building on my hands and knees. I looked up and there she was. The woman who had started this whole chase. She spoke, her voice smooth and ominously cold.

"Get up Calypso, come and see Apollo-X, come serve the purge, or, even better, come DIE for it, you know you want to."

The scene faded to the woman's cold, hard laughter and it all went black.