Ended

Chapter 13

Luke is being patient. The steering wheel feels off in my hands, not like an extension of my arms, but rather as if someone decided to shove wings, like the ones Daedalus made, onto my back, and told me to fly. It doesn't feel right, and i don't know how to work it.

The pedals and gears seem to jeer at me.

Hey, good luck trying to work us out on your mission to save humanity.

I get distracted, which is a massive mistake. For the seventh time in one hour I almost kill us, revving off down the steep bank.

'Stop, Stop!' Luke screams at me. Wild panic dances on his features. 'Lets stop your driving lessons for today,' he tells me grimly. Although disapointed, relief washes through me. 'You didn't kill us today, lets see how you do tomorrow.'

We switch seats, which is rather awkward to do with barely any leg space.
'Oof,' I groan, as Luke loses his footing and falls into me. Pain shoots through me. He mumbles an apology and slides onto the seat.
I watch him through half asleep eyes as he accommodates himself and straps the seat belt around his body. He gives me a weak smile that says 'We might die, so let's hit the road whilst we still can.' My eyes respond to him, flashing a response that says
'Ok, let's not die, it would be a pity to see this car wasted.'
Luke returns my comment with a foot slamming on the accelerate pedal so hard that it flings me back against the chair, giving me serious whiplash.
I protest, Wincing and rubbing my neck.
Luke gives me a sidelong glance, ' you ok?' Yes, yes I'm fine. As the landscape rolls by, we keep our eyes peeled for the GIE aircraft. Once we see it. It's sleek white sides almost like a glider, but an odd triangular shape with GIE embossed on its side. Also it is faster than a glider. Much faster.
'No mystical portals then,' I joke.
'No rockets either.' He says a smile tugging at his lips. I sniff rather crossly and point out that I did actually predict a sci-fi, unrealistic aircraft. He pretends not to remember.

At a few hours past noon, we pullover at a place called Dartmoor (signs say all) to stretch our legs and eat some food. Luke rather un gracefully launches himself at the boot and rummages around for a few minutes, his legs kicking in the air.
'There we go,' he yells triumphantly, lobbing at me a packet of dried beef 'as see on dragons den,' and a produces a bottle of water. He snatches up the keys and gratefully slides out of tube car slamming the door behind him. Sighing in satisfaction he asks me, 'great to be outside again, huh?' Unfortunately, I do not have an answer, as I am locked in the car and furiously pummelling at the door. I scowl at him as he reddens and mumbles and apology. The keys liberate me and I half run, half dance out of the car. The expression on Luke's face changes rapidly from one of embarrassment to one of amusing. I turn and face him,
'What? Don't you know it's rude to lock a lady in a car?'
'Sure,' he tells me a small smile on his lips, he gestures for me to pass 'After you m'lady!'
I flash him a charming smile and curtesy.
'You are such a gentleman as always,'
'Anything for you m'lady,' he says, in a bad imitation of a sophisticated accent, whilst I pretend to giggle and swoon.
I run past him in a very unladylike fashion and he sprints after me We follow a little and appear in a small space of clear area with a few rocks. I cock my ears and hear a river chugging in the distance. We scramble up the big rock and sit there eating our beef and taking turns with the water, letting the cool liquid slosh down our throats. I glance at the sun and decide that it must be around five in afternoon. The sun is still hot, making me drowsy, and I feel myself slide into a slumber.

This time, I do not dream of the the young man, or the telescope, or the hologram of the world. I dream of my childhood. This time I am looking down at the scene. I see a girl of around six playing on a swing with an older boy who looks around ten. The girl has little tufts of curly blonde hair sitting on her head like a halo. The boy pushes her back and forth as the girl scream 'Higher jacky, higher!' The boy laughs 'are you sure Thalia? ' with a shock I realise that that is me on the swing, I am reminiscing, or rather watching a distant memory. Jacky. That's what I called my brother jack according to my mum, before... Well before my eldest brother died. I see my mum now, she is watching us, laughing, looking at us as if we are the most beautiful things she has ever seen.
Then the dream changes, leaving me with the sight of my smiling mother o my eye lids. This time it is my brother dying. This memory I remember too clearly. 'Jacky?' I inquire through chocked sobs. My brothers eyes flicker for a second, as if he recognises that voice, grasping for something to make sense of, but then he stops, confusion on his dying face.
Despair clutches at my insides, clawing its way to my heart. I sit on my mothers lap. Beneath me, I feel her shake with misery, cries escaping her mouth as her pride and joy slowly leave her. My brothers - the ones in good health, and my father crouch by the bed with no expression on their faces. None except the disgust as they look at us thinking woman, so weak and feeble. In my father's and brothers' view, woman were weak, emotional and were to be kept at home were they belonged. In other words, we were an embarrassment. My mother raised me in a sexist community, shielding me from the wrath of my father who had forced my mother to marry him.
He would abuse us repeatdly, watching the terror in our eyes, saying things like 'this is a woman's place,'or 'cry. Cry like you woman always do.' Good ol' dad. Always loving and gentle.
He looks away from my mother and I, and looks repulsed at his sons dying body. My father was disappointed in jack. Jack wasn't sexist, he was kind. But being kind in the view of my father was being weak. In fact, he looks almost glad to be rid of jack. In my dream, I want to run at him and pound him until he dies. Show him the strength of us woman, who he believed so fervently to be hopeless at everything save house-keeping. But my dream does not allow me to fight my father. After all, I am recreating a memory, not creating one.

I see with despair and anger as my brother shudders and dies. I howl and scream like I never have before. Through my eyes, so blurred with tears, I see my father throw back his head and laugh. Fury rips through my body and I fly at him fists flailing, legs kicking. Suddenly, I am pulled out of my dream.

I open my eyes, my heart racing, tears pouring down my face at the memory.
A cool voice suddenly speaks.
'Better late than never.' I turn around and see the aircraft hovering a few feet above us, a woman stands behind us. I scream and kick at look to wake up, before a boot come into view and I slide into unconsciousness...