Chapter 05 – His Name Was Weston

Darren stood in line for the self-checkout station at Walmart, looking down at the jar of tikka masala in his hand. It felt absurd to be coming in for just this one item, but the other components of his lunch were already sitting on his counter at home. All of them except the jar of sauce, which had found its way to the floor. Hence, the trip to Walmart.

“Oh hey Darren, how's it going?” came a voice beside him.

Darren looked over to see a woman he knew from his church standing adjacent to him, pushing a cart with a modest amount of foodstuff lain inside. “Oh, hey!” he enthusiastically replied. 'Her name is Odessa, right?' “Nice to see you! Uh, yeah, I'm doing fine, what about you?” He smiled in a way that he hoped looked casual. 'I should say her name; it's rude not to. Of course it's Odessa. But what if it isn't?'

“Good, good,” she said with a slight nod.

“Yeah, I'm just... Buying some food.” 'Observe the situation and comment. She's got food in her cart so she's probably here shopping too.' “I guess you're buying food too, huh.”

“Yeah,” Odessa said with a polite smile.

Silence.

Odessa slightly nodded. “Well anyways, it was good seeing you... Take care.”

“Right, you too.” Darren smiled back and watched as Odessa pushed her cart forward toward the other check-out stands.

Darren stood there for a moment. 'What the hell was that? What kind of conversation was that supposed to be? I sounded like a 14 year old. Shazbot, no wonder I'm still single at 40.'

He looked back to the self-checkout station. He was next in line. One of the station lights turned green after a receipt printed for its patron. 'You know, all I ever really wanted...' He looked down at his jar of sauce; his fingers tightened against the glass.

Darren stepped out of the line and walked over to the woman. “Hey Odessa!” he called out.

Odessa looked back toward Darren, her black hair swaying gently from the movement. Odessa impulsively ran her hand across her face, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear where they met up with the streak of silver that grew from her temple.

Darren stepped up to her. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get something for lunch? In fact I was getting some lunch right now, I was going to go home and make some tikka masala – do you want to come over and have some? I make a good tikka masala – actually it just comes from a jar and I use frozen chicken but it's still pretty good, you know I'll bet you've had better I don't know if it's authentic flavor or anything, maybe it's not that good after all, I just thought I'd offer because I was just about to make some anyway and normally I just save the extra for lunch tomorrow but since there is the extra I thought maybe you might want some because you're beautiful and since my apartment is just down the street it wouldn't really be a bother, so... Um, do you think, you wanna come over and have lunch?”

'Oh no, I just offered to make tikka masala from a jar for a girl who actually grew up in India.'

Odessa opened her mouth to speak and blinked slowly. “...Sure.”

“R-really?”

Odessa gave a wry smile and looked at him with sullen eyes. “Why not, I mean, it's just one date, right?”

* * *

Darren had to hide the smirk on his face as he looked over the movies in Odessa's bookcase. From Star Wars to Farscape, from The Princess Bride to Lord of the Rings, (in fact it was the same Limited Edition of Lord of the Rings that Darren owned,) her collection was amazingly similar to the collection Darren had on his shelf back home. 'I'm starting to see why this woman actually went out on a second date with me.'

Darren called out toward the kitchen, “I gotta admit, I expected to see more Bollywood movies on your shelf.”

“Well, I didn't actually watch any movies when I was growing up; I didn't have the money.” The tone in Odessa's voice shifted, sounding a bit more contemplative. “Besides, when I moved to America, I was kind of... Well, I was trying to escape my old life. I wanted to put that past behind me and make a new life. Plus, I really wanted to fit in here, so I started watching all the shows that everyone in my classes were talking about.”

Darren paused for a moment. “You're an engineer, right?”

“That's right.”

Darren nodded his head. “So all the people in your classes were all geeks and computer nerds. This all makes sense now.”

“Hey now!” Odessa called out with a miffed tone and a smile on her face. “It's more than just that! I've always been more interested in fantastic stories than some history drama! I want to see magic and lasers! Not some period piece where the best a woman can be is a housewife!” She set a pot of water on the stove-top.

Darren smirked again. “Housewife, she says, while making dinner for a man.”

Odessa picked up a ladle and waved it menacingly. “Hey you! Show some respect! I am being nice to show you what real tikka masala is like!” Despite her tone a sly smile still graced her face.

Darren laughed. A moment later he asked, “So is this the recipe your mother taught you?”

The smile suddenly vanished from Odessa's face. “...No, actually. This is something I learned from a family that I used to work for as a maid. My mother never got to teach me how to cook.”

Darren paused for a moment. He felt as if he had stumbled into something, but he didn't know what.

* * *

Odessa stood on the balcony and stared out across a vista of thousands of city lights, gleaming in the autumn night. “Oh wow, the view is beautiful!”

Darren had his eyes fixed on Odessa. “I couldn't agree more.”

Darren took a breath. 'She has to know this is coming. The fancy downtown restaurant, the scenic vista, she's a smart girl – she has to know this is coming.'

Darren spoke tenderly. “Odessa. These past several months... You've changed me. I've gone from being a bitter and tired old man, to someone who actually has hope for the future. And it's all because you are here as my best friend. You've brought something into my life that I had thought I could never have.”

Odessa looked over to him with stunned eyes. Darren knelt down onto one knee. Odessa's eyes widened and she cupped her mouth with her hands.

Darren pulled the ring box out of his pocket and opened it. “Odessa Chettar, will you marry me?”

The fingers around Odessa's mouth trembled. Her eyes grew moist. The words came softly out of her lips: “...No.”

Darren blinked. “...What?”

“...I can't. Darren, I... I'm not really the kind of woman you're looking for.”

* * *

Amber thought back to the day he had proposed to Odessa. He recalled how tight his chest felt, how cold his face suddenly felt... But looking back, it was now merely the second-most painful day in his life.

She took a few more steps around the orphanage. She kept her hand stretched out toward the wall, only occasionally needing to touch it to help keep her balance. Learning to walk the second time seemed easier than the first.

'Yeah, that was only the second-worst day of my life.' It had become easy to forget how painful that day was when a couple years later Odessa had changed her mind. But with how quickly he lost her completely, the balm that had eased his heart had dried up. The sting of that memory was now just a precursor to the pain she felt now. The pain he thought he had forgiven was just a reminder of what he could never have.

'It's been about a year, hasn't it? It's summer again; my birthday must be coming up soon. Do they even celebrate birthdays in this world? I never saw any of the other kids get a cake, but maybe that's just a luxury this place can't afford.'

Amber paused and took a breath. Growing up as an orphan wouldn't be easy. 'Odessa came out on top, and she didn't even have an orphanage. I can do this.'

Just then the front door opened and a woman with blonde hair came inside. Amber looked over at her. Stunned, she realized that she knew this woman.

Amber began running toward the blonde-haired woman. She quickly fell down, but she stood back up and tried again. “You're alive!” she called out, “You're alive!” She stumbled again, but quickly righted herself and kept moving.

The woman's face was beaming. She held her hands out, “Amber!” she called out. She knelt down and scooped her daughter up.

“I can't believe you're alive!” Amber said, not caring that people took her words for baby-babble.

The woman laughed and spoke in a pleasing tone. Amber had no idea what the words were, but the subtext was unmistakable.

Several hours later, with a pained expression, Amber's mother waved good-bye and left again.

'She was only visiting? But... why? If she's taken care of now, why is she leaving me here?' Amber was confused, but yet no one could give her a clear answer in words she understood.

A year later she showed up again; this time Amber was sure that it was her birthday.

Sitting on her mother's lap, Amber tried to have a conversation. “Ma-ma,” Amber said, “what is ma-ma name?”

The mother smiled and replied “Ma-ma!”

Amber shook her head. 'I'm not trying to play a baby game with you. How do I make you see this is a real question?' She placed her hand on her chest. “Amber,” she said. She then placed her hand on the mother's sternum. “What name?”

Her mother smiled and said “Sara,” followed by a statement that probably meant “but you should call me Mama!”

Amber tried to think of what else she could ask. With her current vocabulary, she didn't think she could get a satisfactory explanation of who her father is, but there must certainly be more that she could find out. She looked up at Sara and said “Ma-ma, what is Amber name?”

With a smile but an uncertain expression Sara responded “Amber!”

“No,” Amber said. She pointed to another child. “Niklas name is Niklas Wehner.” She pointed to one of the nuns. “Sister Band name is Claudia Band.” She tilted her head to the side. “What is Amber name?”

“Oh!” Sara exclaimed. “Amber Verrivelt.”

“Amber Verrivelt...” she repeated. 'Those sound like words I've heard before.' “Velt,” she repeated, and rubbed her hand against the wooden table. “Wood,” she said again. “Verri,” she said, cupping her hands around her eyes, “Dark,” she said again. She looked at her mother. “Amber is... Amber Dark Wood?”

Sara smiled broadly at her daughter. “Yes, your name is Amber Darkwood!”

Amber's mother returned to the orphanage every year on Amber's birthday.

On the day Amber turned five, they went for a walk in the park. Amber looked up at Sara, her face showing the bittersweet expression that it often did when they were together.

“Mother,” Amber said, “I want you to know that I am doing well; I am taken care of; I am growing up fine.”

Sara smiled. “That's good to hear!”

“Mother, it's okay that you are not here with me. I understand.”

Amber could see a bit of the forlorn expression that Sara was trying to hide.

“Mother, I... remember. I remember how hungry I was when you took me to the orphanage. I understand why you can't take me with you when you leave.”

“Oh?” Sara replied. The look on her face suggested that she didn't know quite what Amber was getting at.

'How do I explain it to her?' “We were living on streets, no home. You weren't getting enough food to eat. I thought you had hungried to death. Life is hard for you; you can't bring a child there. I know... You always wear dresses that show so much...” She gently tugged at the lace that trimmed around Sara's copious amount of cleavage. “I understand, mother.”

Sara shook her head. “No, you don't. I'm sorry, Amber.”

'Perhaps I really should tell her about my past. It will help her feel less guilty. Not today, but... next year I will be ready.'

Amber made sure her vocabulary was up to par. She made more frequent trips to the city library and tried to learn the language as best as she could. In private moments she worked out what she would say and practiced her speech.

But on the day she turned six her mother did not return.

Over the next few days Amber accepted the fact that she could never see Sara again.

'Another woman leaves my life. Still, not as bad as losing Odessa. This world is going to be hard-pressed to hurt me more than what happened that day. What could ever happen that will make me feel worse than that?'

* * *

I'm usually afraid to admit it, but sometimes I think that I joined the military because I wanted to die.

I had lost everything, and I feel like even more of a stranger in this world than in the one I was first born in. There is nothing for me here, and I am constantly beset with pain. Yet, I am too much of a coward to actually take my own life. Military service offered a tremendous ultimatum: Either I would find some purpose to my life, or I would find an end to my life. Either way, I get what I want.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

But after that first battle, after I had taken someone's life...

At that time I wished that I had died instead, and at the same time I became more afraid than ever to die.

...Does that make sense to anyone? Maybe it's just my experience.

God I wish I had someone I could talk to about this.

Amber sat on a wooden folding chair in the command tent. A pair of captains had just gone outside, leaving her alone in the canvas-covered area. She could hear faint sounds of chatter outside along with various materials slinking and rubbing as several tents were being hastily dismantled and supplies were gathered.

'Why are we breaking camp? I thought we held the line. ...I guess someone decided we were needed elsewhere for some reason.'

She heard Wahl's voice indistinctly outside, speaking with Major Brandis. 'Did the major decide to debrief us separately? Well, I guess it's his prerogative.'

Amber looked around the tent but there was really nothing special to see. A table sat at the front along with some chairs, a large map of the area, and a couple small banners embroidered with the Iron

Wings icon of the empire. Apart from the lack of inhabitants, it looked just the same as it did when she was attending the last mission briefing.

Amber looked down for a moment, but the dried blood on her flight suit made her feel uncomfortable. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the orb she took from the Norlan officer, deciding to look at that instead. The officer's name was etched into the backside of the orb. His name was Weston. Weston, the soldier she let get away.

The Norlan orb looked notably different from the Argan orbs. The jewel itself looked like a lens, well-polished and perfectly round with a sky-blue sheen, but the refraction of light made it look as dark as oceanwater when looking directly into it. The metal backing it was affixed to was shaped with what looked like wings on the sides. Amber wondered if the Norlans didn't have women in their army; those wings would certainly rub up against most women's breasts in an uncomfortable manner.

The lens-like jewel was almost mesmerizing to look at. (And it was certainly more pleasing to look upon than her flight suit.)

Amber's mind began drifting back to her former life. She thought of Daniel, one of his best friends who joined the Marines almost right out of high school. What might Daniel think of Darren now? Darren held a certain admiration for him; his stories about boot camp and the Crucible seemed so inspiring, as well as the host of corps history that he came home reciting. Those tales of toughness and rigor had helped Amber through her own training by giving her a standard to aspire to.

She felt like she could use such inspiring tales now; something to relate to her current condition. Where were all the stories Daniel had shared when he came home from Afghanistan?

The truth is that there were none. He never did talk about his military service after that. After all the excitement and glamour he gave to being a marine, his service there was something he never shared. Looking back later, Darren could see that once he got home he no longer glowed with the glamour of being a soldier.

Soon after he got home Darren had asked him if he had killed anyone. Daniel's response seemed vague; Darren couldn't recall his exact words, only that he felt as if the question wasn't really answered. A few years later Darren was watching an episode of JAG with his dad where a soldier described coming home and having to deal with people asking that same question, “did you kill anyone?” The soldier described the ways he would brush off the question with a joke or some other defuse, and then lamented about the deeply personal struggle his actions had put upon him. Darren then realized that he was guilty of this, pressing his good friend into the same uncomfortable situation described in the show. At that point he began to grow aware of how different Daniel's attitude was after coming home from Afghanistan, and wondered if there was a silent pain his friend was carrying inside.

'That feels like a lifetime ago.' Amber almost smirked. 'I guess it was.'

He wasn't ready back then to have a real discussion about the effects of war. She certainly wished she could have that discussion now.

Major Brandis walked into the tent. Amber didn't look up. Brandis took in a breath as if he were about to berate the child for not standing and saluting, but then he held his breath for a moment. At last he softly exhaled and relaxed his shoulders.

“You did good work out there,” the major declared.

Amber still didn't look up.

After a moment Brandis softly stated “It was your first kill, wasn't it?”

Amber slowly nodded. 'Unless you count Odessa, of course.'

Brandis continued with his uncharacteristically casual and disarmed demeanor. “I've been there myself. We all have. It gets easier over time.” He walked over to a footlocker, knelt down, and began pulling its key from his pocket. “Would you like something to drink? I'll let you have some of my personal brandy.”

“No thank you,” Amber said in a quiet voice.

“Come on,” he said with a playful inflection. “It's alright if you're under-age; you've certainly earned it tonight.”

Amber raised her voice back to a normal volume. “I don't drink, it's against my religion.”

“Religion? What religion is that?” He finished pulling his bottle from the footlocker along with two glasses. Almost under his breath he said “It's not like God has any place out here anyway.”

Amber looked up at the officer. “Some might say that this is where God is needed the most.”

'Where did that come from? Am I really going to be defending a religion I can't believe in anymore? Reincarnation is against my religion too. So is having one's gender be changeable.'

Brandis set the glasses on the table and looked back at her, noting the change in her expression. “All right, I'll concede to that.” He began pouring a small measure of liquor into just one of the glasses.

Amber still felt deeply cut by the beliefs and convictions he once held so dear. He felt that he devoted himself to the church. He could quote scriptures better than most, and was often commended by others for his faith. But where was that faith now? She felt betrayed. He had devoted his life and abstained from a number of worldly pleasures. And yet his reward wasn't the celestial glory he was promised.

Amber had mulled over these thoughts time and time again across the last nine years, growing ever more bitter. And yet she had just spoken up to defend God. Why? After a moment of reflection, she realized that in this moment of turmoil she was still clinging to those beliefs, and a hope for something greater than herself.

Maybe there still was some faith within her. She thought for a moment if perhaps she should squash those thoughts she was having. But truthfully... In this moment, it felt good to have something to cling to. It was an anchor within her raging emotional seas. She didn't believe she could depend on that anchor, but... perhaps she could at least use it for today.

Major Brandis faced Amber with two glasses in his hand. While Amber was lost in thought he had filled the second one with water. He presented her with the second glass. “Here, it feels weird to drink by myself, so I guess we'll just play pretend.”

Amber took the glass and then raised it. The major followed suit.

'Still... I don't actually want to start drinking. I guess hiding behind religion is a good excuse for that.'

“We've gone over the wreckage from the battle. The Norlans like to stamp little iron-wing decals on their platforms for each kill they make. It was quite an experienced squadron you faced. There were 19 kills among them, in total.”

Brandis took a drink from his glass. Once it was down he continued speaking. “There's more. Those reinforcements that Vanderkaum called for? Lima Squadron? They're all dead. They were taken out by the same squadron you fought, and they didn't lose a single man. That's another eight for them on top of the 19 I already mentioned.”

Amber didn't say anything, but she did take a sip of her water.

“Are you sure you don't want something stronger? It will help you sleep tonight.”

“Are we even sleeping tonight? It sounds like everyone is breaking camp.”

“Something happened along the coast to the East, and there's an emergency redeployment for that. But your battalion is staying here, just to hold the line. You'll be back in the air tomorrow morning. Sure you don't want some help sleeping?”

“Thank you, but no.”

Brandis leaned back against the table. “Wahl tells me that he missed all the action. So you really did take down their whole squad all by yourself?”

Amber listlessly nodded. “Aye, I guess I did.” She finished her water.

“You have seven confirmed kills from your first battle. I really don't know how to explain how impressive that is, even if it weren't such a seasoned group.”

Amber's eyes narrowed. “...Seven?”

“One of them was still alive, although barely. He's in the infirmary. If he pulls through he'll be sent to a prison camp. The thing is though, we found nine crashed platforms. One pilot remains unaccounted for. Do you know anything about that?”

“The squad leader,” Amber held up the orb in her hand and pointed to it. “He's not going to be a problem.”

“So he's still alive?”

Amber nodded.

Major Brandis looked around a little bashfully. “Look, Darkwood, I really don't want to reprimand you in light of what you've already done, but you can't let someone go like that. Now there's an enemy soldier running around loose in our territory.”

Amber started to speak boldly. “I –” her demeanor quickly fell. “No, you're right. I understand, sir. I'm sorry.”

The major polished off the last of his brandy. “Well apart from that, you did really good. You should be proud of yourself. But we need to address this loose soldier. I don't suppose we have any way to recognize him, in case he manages to disguise himself as a civilian?”

“Well, he'd have a hard time with that, I think. He had a strong accent; he'd have a hard time pretending to be a local.”

With a low voice the major stated “So you spoke with him?”

Amber's eyes widened. She then looked down at the ground. “Yeah, he... He begged for his life.”

Brandis stood in silence for a moment, but decided not to press the matter. “Well, was there anything else?”

“Weston,” Amber called out.

“Huh?”

“His name, it's engraved on the back of his orb.” She held it up to show him. “He's an officer, but I didn't check what rank.”

“Weston, huh? And what exactly are you expecting us to do with this information?”

Amber lifted her hands like a shrug. “I don't know, maybe someone's heard of him? I thought maybe we have information about their officers, but now that I think about it I guess we wouldn't. I'm just... I keep thinking about this guy.”

“Right. We need to find him, though. He was a mage, what color was his hair? We could tell everyone to be on the lookout for this man.”

She looked back down at the orb and thought once again of her encounter with Weston. She could see his trembling expression as he gripped his arm. “Please, I have a daughter...” he said, fear filling his eyes, “the same age as you...”

'Same age as me. Yeah, I doubt that.'

Amber thought for a moment. “His hair was dark blue. And... He had a birthmark on his face, he'd be real easy to recognize.”

“A birthmark? Where?”

“Over his eye; it was on his left eyebrow.” She pointed up at her own eyebrow with her left hand. Then suddenly she jumped in surprise. “Oh! No, that would be his right, sorry, a birthmark on his right eyebrow.”

“Well, I guess we know what to look for.” Brandis stared at the child for a moment, still unsure if he should be treating her as a child or as a soldier. For the past week she had shown such remarkable maturity, and it was easy to think of her as a soldier. But in this moment of frailty it was hard to brush her off with a statement of 'it's best not to think about it' like he usually told his men.

Finally Brandis stated “The survivor aside, you did good work.” He started to walk back to his footlocker when the child reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He paused for a moment.

The child took a sharp breath as she looked up at him, her listless expression finally tore apart into anguish. She cried out “I pretended they were all game pieces!”

Brandis balked. “Game pieces?”

“Like chess or-or Warhammer or–” she momentarily put her hand over her face. “No forget that one, I mean like they were a game played with little toy soldiers. I just pretended they were all just pieces, like we were all playing a game. I just thought of games I used to play.” Her voice became choked up and tears began slipping from her eyes. “But it's not a game! They were people! They could bleed, and they died! They had families!”

Brandis looked at her in silence for a moment. Maybe it would be the wrong thing to do, but... 'No, we need soldiers here.' He stiffened his posture and narrowed his eyes. “You're right; they did have families. But do you know who else has families?” He swept his arm around. “Everyone here! These men all have families, too! These men all can bleed, too! And if we don't fight, they will lose their lives, and all the men we have already lost will have died for nothing!”

Darkwood clenched her teeth, her face still filled with anguish. “I know; that's the whole reason I joined the Army to begin with. It's just...” Her lips narrowed and she tried to make her face as stoic as she could, though not with much success. “...I'm going to be an officer. Is it really right for me to be seeing soldiers as pieces, as toys?”

Brandis shook his head. “These weren't your soldiers; this was the enemy.”

She paused a moment and then wiped her face with her sleeve. “...Right.” The excuse she had given wasn't right, but few things were making sense at the moment. 'He wouldn't understand. I don't care about Argan lives or Norlan lives; I just wanted to save everyone. But he can't understand that.' She took a small breath and tried to regain her composure. “I just didn't know it would be like this.”

The major nodded. “I get it, I've been there myself. It... gets easier, over time. And the next time, it won't be like this.” He picked up Amber's empty glass. “Do you regret joining the Army?”

Amber looked back at Weston's orb. “...No, not exactly. I have regrets, but that's not one of them.”

The major's mouth almost made a smile. “Good. Then remember why you joined; always keep that at the forefront of your mind when you begin to question what you are doing.”

Amber nodded and made a non-verbal thank-you.

'At this point, I really only have one regret.' Amber looked up from the orb and stared off into space. 'I regret not watching the road; I regret never noticing that I had drifted into the other lane; I regret that I turned the wheel too sharply and drove us off the road. That's my only real regret.' She let out a sigh. 'Seriously, how hard did I turn the wheel? I went straight from almost hitting that truck to going past the shoulder...'

* * *

In a sharp movement Darren's 4Runner veered past the shoulder and off the road, one side of the vehicle lifting from the rain-glazed ground. Between the car's momentum and the extra weight strapped to the roof, the tires did not find their way back onto the pavement. The gentle slope of the embankment only helped the car to roll further, and the scrub trees growing on the side of the road were no match against the vehicle's inertia. The car came to rest on its roof while the spinning heads of its two occupants tried to make sense of their surroundings.

Darren's eyes came in to focus on his bride, sitting in the seat next to him. But “sitting” wasn't the right term; with the car upside-down she was resting on the roof just as much as the back of her seat. Darren even more-so than her.

Odessa felt a sharp pain in her collar, but as her eyes came in to focus she promptly ignored the wound and the blood dripping onto her face. When she saw Darren she froze in fear. Her new husband's neck was bent the wrong way.

'No... It's not that bad, right? He'll still be able to walk again. It just looks bad from this angle...'

Odessa tried to move, and as she pulled her arm up her body slid down the seat and onto the roof. But the new angle didn't do anything to make the injury look any less severe.

Darren's mouth moved as he tried to say something.

'People have come out of situations like this, he could still walk, he can still...'

Darren's mouth stopped moving, and his eyes seemed to go limp.

'No... Don't leave me!'

Odessa tried to roll herself upright. Immediately a sharp pain tore through her, from her collar to the middle of her back. She gingerly touched her upper chest. Something was sticking out... bone? No, if it was bone it would have hurt to touch it. She pulled her gown back and tried to look at her chest. Something was sticking through, covered in blood. It was shattered and splintered, like... wood? Then the pain in her back, was it the other side? Did something go through her?

It was cold, so very cold. Her body kept trembling.

She tried to roll to her uninjured side. It felt tender, perhaps it was in pain too, but whatever bruises she had there paled in comparison. She looked out the window. The glass had shattered; she didn't even see any shards around. Outside there was nothing but short trees and dry grass. She heard nothing but the 4Runner's engine still puttering, and a faint sound of the light rain plinking against the underside of the car.

'Why is no one around? Didn't anyone hear that? Where is the truck driver? Didn't he see what just happened?!'

It was cold, and getting colder.

Odessa tried to slide forward but was instantly stopped by a sharp pain. She rolled her head around and looked back inside the car. It looked like her purse was sitting on the dashboard – no, that isn't the dashboard, it's the place where your feet go. She strained to reach up and grabbed it. It fell down. She reached inside and found her cell phone. The screen had cracked but it still lit up. She left bloody fingerprints on the screen, but it still worked...

Without even a ring sounding first, the call connected and a calm voice came through the other speaker. “Nine-one-one, what's the emergency?”

“Help...” Odessa gasped, “me...”

Odessa drifted in and out of consciousness. She recalled seeing the lights of the ambulance dancing across the trees, and she recalled the paramedics pulling her from the wreck. She only loosely could recall the trip in the ambulance, only recalling hearing people talk in a blur of terms she didn't understand.

Odessa woke up in the hospital with her whole body in intense pain. She screamed. She tried to move; her body felt so sluggish. 'Why does it hurt so much?! My whole body hurts! Why can't I move?'

A thought came to her mind, a memory of someone telling how they broke their leg open in a swamp, and had to get injected with a medical disinfectant that made their whole bloodstream feel like it was burning. That's right, she had a tree branch in her chest, they must have given her something like that. And her body was sluggish, perhaps some pain killers? They did seem to work fast as the pain died down quickly to just feeling tremendously sore.

She looked around, the doctor and the nurses all seemed excited, but she couldn't quite make out their words. There was also a woman there, but she didn't look like part of the medical staff. Some woman with very dark skin; she had a look of profound joy on her face, but her face also looked strained and sweaty, as if she had just been laboring on something intense. And somehow, this woman seemed massive. Her proportions were normal, but somehow she seemed to be impossibly large. She was able to hold Odessa in her arms, she was so large.

'That can't be right...' She held up her hand to try to gauge the distance between them, and she noticed that her whole arm and her hand were massively swollen. Not only that, but her skin was the wrong color.

Confused, Odessa tried to look around, but her head felt too heavy to move. The dark-skinned woman began adjusting a blanket she had wrapped around Odessa, and when she did Odessa saw an odd protrusion on her belly.

'That looks like... an umbilical cord? But why...' Odessa's eyes opened wide. She looked back at the woman, now recognizing the combination of strained and joyful on her face. 'Oh God! I'm a baby!'

Cedric rushed up to the reception desk. “Where is my wife?!” he yelled out with an urgent tone, “Nesma?!”

“She's in the maternity ward,” the receptionist replied, “I'm afraid that you missed the delivery.”

Cedric nodded as his panicked expression melted into a defeated one. He turned and began moving in the direction the receptionist pointed.

The receptionist called back “Oh and Lieutenant!” Cedric looked back at her. “It's a girl!”

Cedric's face warmed into a large smile. “A girl?!” He turned back around and continued walking with a radiant demeanor.

A few short moments later, Cedric found Nesma sitting up in a bed, holding a tiny newborn to her breast. Nesma looked up at him with a grand smile. “Cedric!” she called out softly, “it's a girl!”

“I heard!” Cedric replied. “So, Meredith?”

Nesma looked back to the tiny baby. “Yes, Meridetz.” Her Kumerian accent sounded especially enchanting this day.

Cedric looked at the precious little Meredith. Her tiny face seemed to look scared as she fed at her mother's teat. Cedric reached over and gingerly wiped away a tear from the newborn's cheek. He then leaned over and gently kissed his wife. “Oh Nesma, she's beautiful!”

As the man kissed Odessa's new mother she understood his role. 'So he must be my new father... He's white, so I must be a mixed baby?' She looked at her hand and its pale color, remembering how she and Darren talked about the mixed babies they might have had. They had heard from other interracial couples that they look white when they are first born but then turn darker. Her pale skin made sense now.

She stopped feeding for a moment to look at the new father. He wore a military uniform, but the nationality was just as foreign as the language everyone was speaking. Despite the military attire, his hair was dyed a dark blue. His face was distinctly marked with a birthmark around his right eyebrow.

The new mother gently held out her child and Lieutenant Cedric Weston tenderly took her into his arms. “I have a daughter...” he said, tears filling his eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -