ODE TO THE END: A BALLAD OF BROTHERS

CHAPTER 31

NAOMI

The ringing of a phone broke against her ear. Then came the click, followed by a voice. "I know it's not an easy task but—I am well aware, sir but— What does that have to do with any—No! YOU LISTEN TO ME! I Am Lieutenant Abigail Delen, personal scribe to Warden Commander Mave Caitlyn, and she GAVE me the order that I am giving you! I'm sorry, but please get the helicopter ready BEFORE we arrive!"

She hung the phone with a slam. The young officer then turned a gaze to Naomi as she lingered at the precipice of consciousness. "Do not worry, Ms. Caitlyn. I'm a friend of your mom. She charged me with seeing you to safety," said the lieutenant. "While the nice agents drive us to the doctor, let's play a game called count the fingers. When I hold up my hand you"-- Her words were interrupted by a sudden jolt. "DRIVE CAREFULLY PLEASE!"

The young officer would shout far more scathing words at the driver but Naomi would hear none of it. She faded out again just as quickly as she faded in, and so the cycle began. When she awoke again it was beneath the humming chops of helicopter blades just as they revved for flight. She would see gray shadows in a haze of light , panicked in their mysterious doing. The Caitlyn princess could not understand their hurried words against the mesh of sliced air and the fuming engine. She was not interested either, not in these strangers. In the darkness of sleep, time flowed in fragments. The length between the blurbs was not for her to know so whenever she awoke, it was in the throes of strangeness.

"She's awake! Mave! MAVE," said colonel Damien. Naomi saw the faded visage of the man's familiar face leave her line of sight, but she saw him amid a backdrop of halos above. "MAVE! GET IN HERE," the man shouted. "NAOMI'S AWAKE!" What followed was a stampede of boots clacking across the floor. Naomi was soon surrounded with faces shrouded in the cerebral fog, but her mother's voice rang through the haze like a beacon.

"Naomi? Pumpkin can you hear me," said the Caitlyn Queen.

"Mom," Naomi weakly replied.

"That's right, pumpkin," Mave responded. Naomi felt a tender hand wipe the hair from her face, and she could not help but smile. "Achim." Whispered the sun-kissed girl. "Don't...hurt him."

As if that single utterance took all she had, Naomi found herself fading after that request. Into the dream she slipped, but she was not completely detached from the waking world. Voices trickled through the veil and the fragmented messages came in voices of all kinds. Most went unrecognized, but a select few endured the shattered path of her comprehension. Her mother's voice, stern, dry and sharp with every delivery, was one such survivor. Colonel Damien's as well. She had known him for a long time, so his hard yet relaxed tone of voice braved the gauntlet with the same bias. With those shoddy ears Naomi heard tales of her condition. A comment about the damage here, a snippet about the lasting effects there, and her mother consistently assuring that her daughter would endure it all.

"She will be fine. She always ends up being fine," said Naomi's mother. "In hindsight, I forgot myself when I requested that she be brought here. She has always been rather resilient."

That is what Naomi heard. It may not have been in that order or in those exact words, but the impression of her mother's confidence lingered. Mave's assurances were not all that broke through the veil. The doings of unknown aids checking her health came here and there. Requests for certain items. Perhaps a snack or two. Even a report. Achim's name was common, but the details were lost in the overlaying dream. The only other thing that stuck to Naomi's memory was an argument. An exchange between her mother and the colonel.

It was not an explosive exchange, but she could feel the traded contempt. Naomi was barely lucid when the conflict came, but the sensation of her mother's alien unease compelled the girl to see. She tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was the silhouettes of a reprimanding figure and the victim before the onslaught. The moment could not be recorded properly, not when she saw nothing by blurred lights in a soup of fuzzy sounds. That was the last thing Naomi recalled before she drifted away again. That and the question "and what of the boy?"