Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three. The Welcome Wagon.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three. The Welcome Wagon.

Annisa stepped through the portal, winced as a wall of heat washed over her.

"Yeah, sorry about that, ought to have warned you, I guess," the man named Waters said, "we've been transferring out here in the Mojave, which as you can see is a desert."

He motioned for her to follow him to a long, low metal cart of some sort. It was beautiful, lines flowing smoothly together, painted a deep lustrous blue that glowed in the sunlight.

Waters walked her to the cart and opened the door for her, handing her down into the contoured seat, where she sank down into soft, buttery leather. Leather that was extraordinarily hot. He helped her secure herself into the seat with a set of straps that clicked into place.

He moved around to the other side and entered the cart as well, sliding behind what appeared to be a wheel that you might find on a ship. Wincing, he apologized again, "Sorry, the sun turns the car into an oven; I'll crank the a.c. and cool down the seats."

Pressing a button in front of the wheel, she both heard and felt a gentle rumble, and a blast of hot air burst out of the slots in the dash. "Give it a second," Waters advised, fiddling with some sort of glass protrusion, swiping at it as a variety of glowing images flickered and changed.

Seconds later, the wind sweeping into the vehicle rapidly cooled down and became glacially cold. She started as the seat beneath and behind her cooled down as well.

"There we go," Waters muttered, settling into his seat. "I probably shouldn't have bought this," he confessed, "but I figured hey, I'm not paying rent or utilities anymore, or probably ever again, so why not?"

"Of course, I have my baby, but she's safely back over on Thayland," Waters continued, "and I needed something to drive back on Earth."

"You needn't justify yourself to me," Annisa offered him a smile.

"Oh, I'm justifying my own choices to myself," Waters grinned at her in return, "I have a car already, a beautiful car that I've spent way too much time and money restoring and keeping up with. I bought this Charger on impulse, partially because it's the newer version of my baby."

"I don't know what most of that means," she replied, "but this is a lovely car? Like a cart?"

"This cart has seven hundred horses under the hood," Waters's grin widened, and he moved a lever on the bench between them.

Reaching up, he pressed a few more icons on the glass plate, and suddenly she could hear eerie echoing notes, the sound coming from all around her. She clutched the handle of the door as Waters manipulated pedals with his feet, and with a growl barely audible over the rising notes, the car leaped forward, rushing to reach speeds greater than she could possibly run.

Another instrument joined the first, clearly of the same type, but playing in a different chord.

The landscape, all tones of yellow and gray, with only the occasional sad flash of green, sped past them as Waters drummed his fingers on the wheel, the flat dirt road leading them through the hills.

She could recognize the sound kicking in as drums, the notes of the other two instruments coming more quickly.

"I can't remember anything, can't tell if this is true, or dream. Deep down inside, I feel the scream; this terrible silence stops me," Waters sang along as a voice called out from all around her.

It was clearly music, but not like anything she'd ever heard before.

The car came to a quick halt as the dirt road ended against a new road, this one done in some sort of black and grey stone, with bright yellow lines down the middle and white lines along the side.

Waters piloted the car onto the new road, and the car tore loose of the road, the force of the acceleration pressing her back into the seat as the early rumbling noise rose to a roar, the landscape whipping by.

The pressure eased as they had apparently reached the appropriate speed, and she took a deep breath. They were nearly flying across the road, so smooth was the travel.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Waters said loudly over the music.

Annisa nodded. She was fairly certain he was talking about the car.

The music had gotten... harder, somehow, and faster.

"Now the world is gone, I'm just one, Oh God help me. Hold my breath as I wish for death, please God help me!" The voice pleading over the instruments was raw.

"What is this music?" She yelled.

"A Marine Corps anthem," he replied as the music reached a crescendo, the drums, and other instruments ringing out so rapidly it was hard to believe they were individual instruments.

"Darkness, imprisoning me, all that I see, absolute horror, I cannot live, I cannot die, trapped in myself, body my holding cell," the vocalist yelled. "Land mines, have taken my sight, taken my speech, taken my hearing, taken my arms, taken my legs, taken my soul, left me with life in hell!"

She waved her arms frantically, and Waters turned the volume down.

"Please," she said, "that's not only too loud, but the words..." she shook her head.

"Ah, sorry," he replied, tapping the screen a few more times, switching his attention from the screen to the road, causing the car to drift from side to side in a manner she didn't find very safe given the speeds they were traveling at.

"That was very... angry," Annisa offered.

"It's a song about a soldier who was wounded so badly that he couldn't see, hear, or speak, with no legs or arms, begging for the release of death," Waters replied, "it's not really a happy song."

"Is that a common theme for the music in this world?" Annisa asked.

"I guess?" Waters shrugged, "We have a lot of music, and while I don't have a lot of what you might call 'happy' tunes, I'm sure I can find something."

He shuffled through what she could see was a list of items on the glass. She understood the words, but they didn't make any sense without context.

"Well," Waters said, "I have something upbeat, if not exactly happy." He tapped on the list, and the glass now displayed; "Third Eye Blind - Semi-Charmed Kind of Life."

Wates piloted the car off the highway and into a large lot with free-standing pillars where hoses were attached, which appeared to feed into the cars.

"Do you need to feed your car?" She asked.

Waters grinned at her, "Yeah, I do," he patted the wheel, "she runs on ninety-three octane gas, which we'll find at those pumps."

Pulling the car up alongside one of the pillars, he moved the lever in the center forward and then pressed a button, cutting the rumble off like a knife. He unclicked his straps and pulled the lever to open the door, climbing out.

Annisa followed suit, stretching as she twisted slightly. While the seats were very comfortable, they didn't allow for much movement.

"Damn," Waters said, drawing her attention back to him, having been looking at the squat building at the far side of the lot. It was faced with glass and covered in slogans or advertisements.

"What?" She asked, looking around quizzically.

"Nothing," Waters shook his head, "just, well, look, you gotta know what you like, right?"

Annisa looked down. She was wearing tight white linen wraps around her chest, with another set around her waist, reaching mid-thigh. Flowing silk in white trimmed with gold rustled in the stiff breeze that rushed hot air through the lot. She looked at her sandals.

"I know your world wears different clothing," she gestured to him, "but I'm not wearing something inappropriate, am I?"

She twisted around, checking to make sure her wraps hadn't slipped somehow. Everything was in place, her arms and legs draped with strips of silk, a blouse covering her torso.

"It's more like you than the clothes, although the whole 'I dream of genie' thing is definitely eye-catching," Waters replied, waving a glassy device at the pedestal before pulling the hose from its resting place and inserting it into an opening that had previously been hidden.

"Ah," she nodded, understanding. Mike had been affected by her beauty, more so than most. His efforts not to stare had been equal parts admirable and amusing. She checked her persistent effects, making sure that coming to this mana-starved place hadn't released them.

The debuff was still in place, reducing her Beauty attribute to a value equal to a paragon.

"This won't cause any problems, will it?" She asked.

"Aside from more attention than you'd probably like, no," Waters replied, "I don't imagine it will. We have beautiful women here too."

"In fact, this is probably a good place to introduce you to a bit more of Earth," Waters said, watching the readout on the pillar, which appeared to be measuring the fluid being pumped into the tank.

"We'll go in and grab a soda before we roll out," he said as the pump clicked off, and he hung it back in place, gesturing for her to follow him into the building.

As they reached the entrance, the doors swung open, and a young boy, perhaps five or six years old, rushed out, his weary mother following behind. The boy stopped suddenly as he caught sight of Annisa, and his eyes went wide.

"Mommy, look, an angel!"

Eric was still snickering ten minutes later as they reached the speed limit, and he set the cruise control.

"Does that happen often?" He asked teasingly.

"No," Annisa replied, looking embarrassed, "it doesn't."

"Fair warning, it might over here," he pulled her coke out of the cupholder and twisted the lid off. "Give this a try; it's one of our favorite drinks."

Annisa took a sip, her nose crinkling adorably as the carbonation tickled it. Her beautiful blue eyes went wide. "It's a little on the sweet side, but that's amazing," she smiled as she took a larger sip.

Eric tore his eyes away and focused on the road. It wasn't fair for someone to look like that.

"So, who is it that will be reincarnating?" She asked.

"A Lieutenant Colonel Smith," Eric replied, "he's pushing ninety, mustang colonel, served in Korea as an enlisted, then Vietnam as an officer." He paused, then added, "Which probably doesn't mean anything to you, but he's an old man who fought in one war and led men in another."

"I gather you're attempting to retain his services for his leadership abilities?" Annisa queried.

"Exactly," Eric nodded, "the Marines over on Thayland are all enlisted, and we function better with a command structure in place, as it's what we're familiar with. He's the highest-ranking officer we could find locally who didn't have a family to hold them back."

"Ninety is nearly the end of the normal tier five life span," Annisa noted. "Are you sure he'll be willing to spend his newly regained youth and vitality helping a group of people he must have long forgotten?"

"Ma'am, once you're a Marine, you're always a Marine. There is absolutely no chance that he will have forgotten his brothers, the men he led and served with," Eric replied firmly, "we swore an oath to defend our country, and if that means fighting monsters, well," he chuckled, "every Marine is a rifleman."

Annisa had difficulty grasping the sheer scope of humanity in this world. They had emerged from the desert, a place Waters had said was preserved as a national park, where people could appreciate the natural beauty of the place, and entered a bustling city.

The city had gone on, and on, and on. She quickly realized that you'd need a car to get around; it was so vast. They'd gotten onto another road that Waters had called 'I-5', and the number of cars, six abreast, had been staggering. Now they were winding their way through a neighborhood where the homes all looked nearly identical, with few architectural differences, simply done in different shades.

"How many people live here?" She asked.

"Greater Los Angeles is about eighteen million, give or take," Waters replied casually.

She shook her head. There were only two hundred thousand people in Greenwold.

A map had replaced the list of music on the glass, moving with them as they headed to their destination. A pleasant female voice had been directing them, telling them when to turn, warning that a turn was ahead.

"In one thousand feet, your destination will be on the right," the cool female voice announced.

Waters pulled the car up a slight incline in front of the house, parking it beside another car, this one not quite as sleek, boxier, but just as clean and shiny.

Eric turned off the car and unbuckled his straps. "Let's do this," he grinned at her as he climbed out of the car.

Annisa escaped the confines of the vehicle and immediately stretched, relishing the freedom. While the car was nice and fast, it wasn't something she was eager to make long trips in.

Waters gestured for her to follow him, and he proceeded past the cars and up a stone walkway, ending in a door with glass panels set into it. He reached out and pressed a glowing rectangle, causing a chime to sound within the house.

They waited patiently for a few long minutes until a figure could be seen approaching the door. It swung inwards, revealing a human male, a bare fringe of closely cropped white hair remaining as a halo over a weathered and worn face. The old man broke into a smile as he peered at Waters shirt.

"What can I do for you, Corporal?" The old man asked.

"Lieutenant Colonel Smith?" Waters asked, and Annisa could see the old man's back straighten as he pulled himself up. "That's right," he agreed.

"Corporal Waters, sir, First of the First," Waters said, his own posture rigid, "may we come in?"

"Of course," the now identified Smith replied, gesturing for them to follow him as he hobbled down a short hallway with the aid of a cane she hadn't initially noticed.

As they made slow progress, she looked around, noting that there were incredibly lifelike paintings of the man's life. She could see the progression as he married, became a father, and then likely a grandfather. The woman that was presumably his wife stopped appearing in photos towards the end, and the last of the photos showed a man quite a bit younger and more hale than the one she saw in front of her.

"Have a seat," Smith offered as they entered a sitting room, with comfortable-looking couches and chairs, all arranged around another large panel of glass on a stand.

"What brings two young folks to come to see an old man this evening?" Smith asked after he'd lowered himself carefully into a chair.

Annisa marveled at the sleek material and the uniform softness and support of the couch. A fan spun slowly above them, creating a nearly unnoticeable breeze that kept the air from becoming stuffy.

"Sir, I'd like to first introduce you to Annisa, a civilian working on a project with a number of retired Marines," Waters gestured towards her, and she responded with a smile.

"Well, aren't you lovely," Smith winked at her, "if I were about seventy years younger, I'd ask you to a dance."

"Funny you should mention that," Waters replied, pulling out the glass slab he'd used at the 'gas station' and flipping through a series of images on the screen before pulling up one that showed Eric, missing his arm.

Smith peered at the image carefully and then looked closely at Waters.

"What's this about?" He asked warily.

"We need some help," Waters admitted, "and we need officers. I brought Annisa here to fix you up so that we could ask you to join us on a project." He shook his head ruefully, "We've got damn near a thousand Marines, sir, but no officers, just NCOs."

Smith snorted, "Best officer you can ask for is a Gunny," he said, "the rest of us are just doing work for them," he shook his head. "What do you mean fix me up? And what project?"

"Please," Annisa interjected, "just give me your hand for a moment," she smiled, "I swear by Vi'Radia, I mean you no ill."

She reached out and held the old man's hand, feeling the parchment-thin skin. She slipped her other hand into her satchel, keeping her eyes locked on his.

"I don't know very much," Annisa confessed, "Bob doesn't like to talk about this place, and I think I make Sergeant Mike nervous," she winked at him, "but from what I've seen and been told, Marines are the heroes right?"

"I've known a lot of Marines that fit that description, Ms," Smith agreed, his eyes going distant, "too many of them, truth be told."

Annisa kept smiling as she continued casting the reincarnation ritual. Normally this would be done in a temple, with the recipient laid out on an altar, but there was no temple, nor an altar. She'd developed the skill of splitting her concentration to allow her to speak while casting a few rituals she was intimately familiar with.

"Well," she began, "we have heroes where I came from too, except we call them Adventurers. They're the ones who stand against the darkness, risking life and limb against terrible foes to protect the innocent."

"Adventurers, eh?" Smith said, looking over to Waters, before returning his gaze to her.

"They aren't as well organized or as well disciplined as the Marines I've seen," Annisa admitted, "but I think they share the same heart, the same desire to protect."

"You're a little odd," Smith said, "and very pretty, which makes you holding my hand awfully flattering, or it would be if I weren't an old man," he stopped speaking and clutched at his chest with his free hand as he groaned.

"Say yes," Annisa urged him.

"Urghh...yes," Smith gasped.

Annisa smiled and released his hand as he was bathed in a golden light that seemed to sink into his flesh. Seconds later, the light infusing him flashed incandescent, the disappeared, leaving Smith leaning back on the couch, clutching his chest as he shook his head.

"What the-" he stopped at the sound of his own voice. He raised a hand in wonder and looked at the young, unlined skin. He flexed it into a fist, then looked up at her, his eyes clear.

"What the hell just happened?"