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A Fugitive's Cause
Chapter Four - A New Home With Company

Chapter Four - A New Home With Company

  In the dark of the night, the engine of the electric four-wheeler whined and crackled with strain. I drive along the side of a slope of a mountain, worming my way up and up in a zigzag pattern. The full moon shined down upon me, illuminating the mountain, the clear skies assuring me that no cloud would rob me of the moonlight.

  I was driving up the side of a mountain! The panic I felt never left me since the moment I had heard the words of... it. The alien. An alien that had somehow taken control of my mind and body.

  My panic never waned or increased. It was just there, a maelstrom of adrenaline and paranoia at everything around me.

  The feelings of being hunted writhed in my mind like flames dancing in a blazing fire, every instinct within me screamed with a flight or fight impulse. I glanced manically at every tree, rock, or bush I drove past. I could feel the eyes of the hunter, the back of my head itched with the feeling. I constantly turned to look behind me, and I saw nothing following me.

  The four-wheeler made it over the edge of the incline of the slope, and I drove to a large gap in a small plain that rested between two massive rocks to each side of the plain. The cold wind blew through my clothes, hair, and skin, it was chilling, and I shivered. My breathing is ragged, and my heart thunders in my chest.

  When my eyes meet the early rays of first light reaching the horizon. It was at that moment, with the swiftness of a switch being flipped off, that my unreasoning panic was gone. Just gone. In an instant.

  I stopped the four-wheeler the next moment, and I turned off the electric engine. It clicked off with a stuttering protest. I sat in the driver’s seat, sweating as I looked at the light that grew brighter with each passing moment. I breathed, and my heart slowed, I shivered, and finally, my thoughts caught up with me.

  ‘What has happened to me?’

  Confusion grips me, my mind can barely process the events that have transpired. I looked at the director-tablet. I tapped on it, pulling up the clock app. The battery was almost dead. I read: 6:34 am.

  I shivered again as I realized I had driven most of the night in the mountains. It was a miracle that I had not driven right off the edge of a cliff. Why was I not thinking straight? Whatever that alien did to me. It was real, and my body was still suffering the effects.

  ‘No, I was… there is something… wrong with me.’

  I could feel it. I no longer know my own body, my arms, legs, hands, fingers, and toes. Everything felt… wrong. My limbs move too easily, I blink too rapidly, I breathe too swiftly, and I have never felt so steady in my entire life. I should feel exhausted, I know I am, but my body does not register the fact. I recall the crater, the spacecraft, the green lights, and the alien.

  It had me, it took command of me. My body and mind had been under its influence. It did something to me. An alien hand had been plunged into my body, into my chest, violently. I slowly pressed my hand to my chest. Fear returns to me as I slowly and carefully take off my jacket and shirt. Suitably topless, I glance down to see my bare chest.

  There were no marks, no scars, and no signs of violence. I knew with all certainty that the alien had done something to me. I remembered the feeling of the alien hand resting on the back of my head. Then the other hand… delving into my chest, my clothing did not shield me from it. I remember the blood coating the alien hand before the panic gripped me.

  I looked around my surroundings, and I saw things that I had never seen before. Motes of dust rose from the ground as the wind gently blew. I saw the beads of dew beginning to evaporate from the leaves and blades of grass in my line of sight.

  I heard the rustling of animals in the trees. Squirrels, mice, birds, and many other creatures, and if I look at the sounds, I can see them. The animals were illuminated in golden orbs or familiar shapes. The shapes were distinct and clear but still hidden behind bushes and trees. I see them move about the trees and bushes, the birds flying, and all manner of life pulsing around me in golden silhouettes.

  I had been… altered by the alien.

  I climb out of the four-wheeler and stride up a slope that lies to my right as I reach the top, I gaze down. I see a large alpine lake that stretches before me.

  “Finally, water!” I say to myself.

  After I had bathed for the first time in nearly two weeks since I set out on my own. I took stock of my supplies. I had only half a gallon of drinking water and seven more meals of dried rations. Thankfully the director-tablet’s smaller dial was waving from side to side subtly. Indicating that I was nearing my destination, wherever it was.

  I sat at the shoreline of the alpine lake as I tried again to gather myself, adjusting to whatever the alien did to me. I also organized my jumbled thoughts, feelings, and memories.

  I felt that I should be running around in circles screaming and clawing at my chest to find whatever had changed me, then tearing it out of my body. For some reason, whenever I tried to think about this dissociation from what had happened. I would find that my mind would shift to other thoughts or recall some other memory that was not connected to the… event.

  The altering… as I had labeled it, I tried talking to myself about it, but I couldn't. After uttering a few syllables, my mouth would close. I could not grasp why this… control over me was still present. How? I cannot connect my memories at all. It or whatever had happened was affecting me. Whatever it was.

  Unsure of what to do about the… altering. I knew I had to find my sanctuary, and then I could sort this out there. Standing up, I gathered my supplies and the vile dirty clothes, stuffing them in a bag. I filled the empty glass gallon jugs with water from the lake. I was determined only to use it if I had to. I would probably regret it if I drank it as it was. However, if I found the means to boil water, I would not die of thirst or become sick.

  I could not use the four-wheeler. The director-tablet pointed me into the forest that lay ahead, beyond the alpine lake. I abandoned the four-wheeler and traveled on foot. I felt a sense of determination despite my unease.

  I found the sanctuary four days later during the morning hours. To my relief, it was a cabin, not a large one, but larger than most cabins. Lush and overgrown greenery had hidden it from me, and I had nearly walked past it. The trusty director tablet turned me around, and after cutting away the few bushes and branches, I found my new home.

  The cabin was deep in the forest and well away from what remained of civilization. With breathless anticipation, I opened the door, and the air from outside whooshed in, telling me the cabin was well insulated. I walked inside, and I was stunned. The interior was fully furnished with a plush leather sofa, armchair, a fireplace, shelves, curtains along the windows, and so much more than I could have hoped for.

  Little notes were pinned on various items and amenities I thought I would have to live without. The dry toilet had a set of chemical septic tanks that could burn away the contents within them over years. There was a shower and a sink with a mirror. The kitchen had an electric stove, and there was a basement with over a hundred boxes filled with MREs. I also found a large bedroom with a big bookshelf full of books.

  I had noticed that the roof of the cabin had a sheer vertical slope that served to catch rainwater or snow, which drained into a purifier system. In the shed, there were three fifty-gallon tanks. The gauges on each pointed to ‘full.’ I also found to my intense relief, a large locker containing a compound bow with arrowheads, an assortment of hunting knives, five pistols, three hunting rifles, and a pair of highly illegal assault rifles.

  Well, they were legal when they had been stored here… probably. Not that it mattered to me, as I was an outlaw. The shelves in the locker contained ammunition that had been sealed and preserved. Of these was mostly ammo for assault rifles. The rest was a variety of ammo sizes, as each pistol had different specs, but the hunting rifle ammo was all the same.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I spent a lot of time washing up, deciding not to waste water in the shower. I filled a bucket with cold water and had myself a sponge bath. Then after that, I put on the dry, warm clothes that resided on the dresser of my new bedroom. Nice clothes. They smelled a bit too much like the plastic that they had been wrapped in. I had a very interesting experience seeing and handling plastic from oil days.

  As I lay down on the bed from the last rays of sunlight, I thought that maybe my self-imposed exile won’t be so bad. I settled into the covers. The pillows, blankets, and mattress made me sigh heavenly relief for the most basic comforts.

  From the fluffy covers, I open an old leatherbound book I had selected for the evening, “Mr. Vast” by P. Brown. It was my grandfather’s favorite book and famous or infamous, depending on your perspective on life. I didn’t care in any case, I had read it before, and I thought it was an excellent book. Before I could read the first few paragraphs of chapter one, I blinked and fell asleep instantly.

  In the morning, I awake to a horrific slitting stomachache. I stumbled out of bed, barely reaching the toilet before I puked. When I had finished emptying my stomach, and the pain faded, I found that my whole body was aching and shivering. Was that MRE I ate last night expired? I remembered the date, those MREs were good for another few years, and most were good for ten years.

  As I washed up in the shower, feeling shaky and unsure of my footing, I felt waves of disorientation, like something was miswired in my body. I would try to move my hands or legs, and then my limbs would move, but it was delayed. This was bad, my mind was rushing with memories of the alien face, the green lights, and the spacecraft. Then I remembered the alien’s hand disappearing into my chest, then the insane fear that recklessly propelled me into the night.

  I tried forgetting what happened, and I think I did forget, but now I found myself still unable to process the event… the altering. After sitting for a solid hour on my bed trying to let my body process whatever was messing it up. It did process the whole episode, whatever it had been. I kept seeing the eyes of the alien, its mournful voice, and soulful eyes. Then the memory vanished again. It was there in my mind but very indistinct, as if it had happened decades ago and not just a few days ago.

  After some more thinking while I dressed for the day’s work, I started by taking stock of my supplies. I thought that doing some work would help me, I gathered and reexamine all the notes, and I made a list of what I had and what I didn’t have.

  I got straight to work.

  What I had was a lot of everything that I thought I wouldn’t have and what I didn’t have was only a few things that were minor in comparison. Whoever had set this sanctuary up had a good sense of planning.

  I had food for a good seven to nine years. I had preserved seeds for various vegetables, hunting equipment, tools, replacements for everything, and a disassembled greenhouse that I could set up outside. Around mid-afternoon, I discovered an attic. A trap door that could swing down, which I hadn’t noticed the day I arrived at the cabin. I excitedly climbed up the ladder and found another stash of stuff that would help me survive on this mountainside.

  I found two laptops amongst the many boxes of equipment stored up here. I turned on one of the laptops, and on its hard drive were thousands of audiobooks, some vintage old-school video games, and thousands of digital books amongst those books was a file labeled ‘technical.’

  That file contained manuals on survivalist life, repair and troubleshooting guides, hunting practices, how to clean dead animals, how to extract seeds, and how to maintain vegetables without using antibacterial agents. Which involved breeding plant-friendly insects. I found a set of insolated insect beds where I could do just that.

  I also found a large collection of small solar panels, a lot of them. All of which came from Teslaic Solar. The model I had was from its last days of business, just before the US government wrecked the company when it nationalized it. That was during the early days of the energy crisis. There was also a handful of high-powered batteries and a rig for my power grid.

  Wires, ropes, tools, a chainsaw, more seeds for fruit trees, hoses, lightbulbs, pipes, wired meshed fencing, brick molds, shovels, replacement electronics, electrical components, a disassembled workshop table and so much more that I would need days to catalog it all.

  I didn’t even have to do that! I found a clipboard nailed to a beam along the ceiling labeled: manifest. It was ten pages deep and detailed. In short, I was set for life.

  Two weeks passed, and I had been a busy exile. I finished setting up the greenhouse a few days ago, and today I finished setting up the power grid. The solar panels rested on two long poles bolted to the cabin.

  Which reach above the treetops to provide me with solar power. Tonight, I was listening to Beethoven while reading another manual on how to repair and maintain my weapons. The sun had set, and the day of hard work was over. I relaxed and read.

  I lounged on one of the leather sofas munching on crackers and sipping rehydrated orange juice. Just as I looked down to reexamine my written notes on a small notepad, the lights went out.

  “Damn...” I said.

  In the dim dark, the only source of light came from the screen of laptop. I got up and was about to head outside to check the power grid when the laptop's light flickered out and turned on again. The glorious Symphony five ceased. I walk back to the sofa to look at the laptop's screen.

  “No!”

  The laptop screen was a blank blue, and I was sure the power grid had overloaded it. This wasn't good! There are no repair guys out here except me, and I was not a computer expert. I gently tapped on the keys, and I quickly unplugged the charger cord, feeling the onset of panic as I thought I may have somehow broken the damn thing.

  An inhuman, grayed distorted face suddenly appears on the blue screen, and a blaring electronic distorted voice blares from the laptop. I scream as I fall off the sofa; the laptop tumbles off my lap onto the sofa as I scrabble on the floor, shuffling away from the laptop. A laptop that had a face that was crackling with indiscernible syllables.

  “Doraaaooocraaaaa… carkaa… carrak… Iaaarago!”

  I stare at the screen from the other side of the living room, huddled on the wooden floor, my back shoved up onto the wall. I stared at a face that was one moment human and then alien. Then a series of popping noises comes from the laptop’s speakers. The face disappears, and the blue screen returns. I stare at it for a long series of moments as my heart jackhammers in my chest, and a cold sweat erupts across my body.

  Then a line of text pops up on the bluescreen. I can’t read it from where I sit, hugging my knees to my chest across the room. Then more text pops up. As my heart rate settles to a normal level, I slowly crawl over to the laptop, settling in front of it on my knees. My curiosity getting the better of my fear.

  I read the text, and my jaw drops. The lights come back on.

  ‘I am sorry I scared you! My program almost overloaded the power grid while I was talking to you, my processor was trying to communicate with you at electronic speeds. Please don’t be afraid of me.’

  I read the next line of text.

  ‘I am here with you. Please type in your queries.’

  Tentatively I reach out and feeling totally not alone, as goosebumps erupt on my skin, I type in a message, and the words appear on the bluescreen.

  ‘Who are you, and where are you?’

  The response was instant.

  ‘I am Core A.I., and I presently reside with you.’

  I read the text over and over. I type as I feel a weird emotional amalgamation of fear, confusion, and frustration.

  ‘WHO ARE YOU?’

  ‘As I said, I am Core A.I. I am the onboard artificial intelligence that the commander transferred to your command!’

  ‘I don’t know what that means!’

  ‘I am trying to understand this: you are saying that you are here with me, but I am alone in a cabin that is on the side of a forested mountain! I should be alone here! Where are you, and who is the commander?’

  ‘You are the commander, and I reside with you!’

  “MY GOD!” I shout, utterly frustrated.

  ‘I am not a commander of anything or anyone! Where exactly are you? Are you outside my cabin?’

  ‘I reside within you, I, the onboard A.I.’

  I stare at the text, and I begin to feel weird vertigo and rising panic. My hands shake as I type. I feel the sweat run down my back and forehead.

  ‘You are saying that you are inside of me.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘How and where?’

  ‘The previous commander, Greater curse him, placed me within you when he took control of you at the crash site. And presently, my mainframe is located between your stomach and liver. Take off your shirt and look down at your chest.’

  Numbly and with a feeling of panicked hilarity and disbelief, I pull off my t-shirt. A line of text appears on the laptop as I toss the shirt over the sofa.

  ‘I am right here.’

  I look down at my chest, and my mind reels as I see a very tiny bulge of skin poking out just below my sternum and slightly to the left side. As if a tiny finger of something poking me… from within me… inside of me.

  ‘That is me. That is where I am.’

  ‘Hey! Why did you….’

  ‘Oh, you fainted… and you hit your head! Damnit! Now I have to replace those dead brain cells! Now, what am I going to do? The melding process is unstoppable, and despite that fact, I wanted to have your permission before I proceeded.’

  ‘Well, I guess there is no point in delaying. I am beginning the final melding, standby.’

  ‘Imitating movement and initiating full melding now.’