Fiction Factory: 3 Weeks, 7 Days (Part 2)

Two figures were climbing out of the darkness, Taylor could barely make them out in the dust. He felt around for some landmark to give him an idea where he was. The ground was dirt and broken concrete. Above him a small speck of light shining down. To his left, Taylor felt a flat object, he pulled it out of the silt and brought it in front of him. Feeling with his hands, the best he could estimate was an object resembling a sextant. The two figures slowly skulked their way forward.

“Mr. Langan? Mr. Langan, we’re here to help you?”

One voice, distorted through a speaker. Taylor assumed he was Mr. Langan but he had no recollection of his identity. One figure placed a hand on the shoulder of the other and came closer on its own.

“Mr. Langan, I’m Bruce. We were sent here to retrieve you on re-entry. Are you ok sir?”

Taylor tried to speak, his throat was dry. He waved his hand in response. Bruce came closer and offered a bottle to Taylor.

“Here sir, drink this.”

It was water, cold and refreshing. Taylor felt his throat easing up.

“Who are you?” Three words that passed like broken glass.

Closer, Taylor could make out the figure dressed head-to-toe in a respirator suit. Like a dusty Michelin Man, the figure shone a light in Taylor’s eyes.

“Good. Good. Your eyes seem to be functioning. Don’t worry sir, you’ll acclimatize and your functions will return. Nice to see you.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re right where we left you. 20 years ago.” Taylor could tell by the figure’s posture that this was all matter-of-fact, and quaint to him. The figure reached across Taylor and plucked the sextant from his lap.

“You don’t wanna be fooling with that now sir. You’ve only just arrived.”

Impatience rose in Taylor, “Who the hell are you?”

“Me? I’m your son. Come on, we’ve got to get you inside. They’ll have noticed the splashdown point and be sending out Grifters to retrieve you. Up, up let’s move!”

Bruce grappled the collection of concrete and stones scattered across Taylor’s legs, then pulled him to his feet. Slowly, the circulation returned to Taylor’s legs and he felt those familiar pins and needles running up his lower extremities. The second figure came over to help Bruce move Taylor through the dark.

“Hi,” a female voice, small and timid, “I’m Trish.”

She giggled, and they made their way.