Eden's Angels - Books 1-2

7. Home Again

Consciousness crept upon Althea much as an early morning’s light filters through window curtains. At first Ramuell’s mother was aware only of being cold. Of course I’m cold—I’m lying here bare-butt n***d. But, where am I? When she heard a moan to her left, Althea slowly turned her head and opened her right eye ever so slightly. She was vaguely aware that it was either dawn or dusk as she could only make out her husband’s profile.

Of course I’m cold—I’m lying here bare-butt n***d. But, where am I?A heavy film of postnasal mucus choked Egan as he roused. The sensation flooded his body with corticotrophin and epinephrine. He lurched toward awareness with a startled panic. Choking and coughing, he spastically rolled to his knees and retched. Though there was little in his stomach to purge, the heaving cleared the sensation of obstruction in his throat. He crumpled back to the ground facing his wife. Only after managing to see her body with his unfocused eyes did Egan realize he too was n***d.

Instinctively the couple dragged themselves across the few metres of cold ground separating them. They clung to each other for reassurance and warmth. Within minutes they drifted into an odd kind of shared slumber. As the sun rose and bathed their bare bodies, their core temperatures crept upward.

By late morning they’d warmed enough to realize they needed help. Althea was able to drag herself through some bushes and small trees to the crest of a trough. Though unable to focus her eyes, she was certain she could hear the sound of water gurgling over rocks. Turning back to Egan, she was only able to croak the word, “Water.”

Egan struggled to gain his hands and knees. This time his mission was to get fluid into his body rather than expel it as vomit. Althea managed to slide most of the way down the slope but lost momentum less than four metres from her life-sustaining destination.

Unable to grip with his numb and tingling hands, Egan slid a leg under the small of Althea’s back. Clinching her between his legs in a scissors hold, Egan scooted on his side dragging his wife to the nearest trickling flow. After they managed to suck in a few gulps, Althea coughed then said, “Slowly.”

Hydration helped, but they understood they needed food and clothing before nightfall. Once again they fell asleep in each other’s arms. The sun had just passed its apex when voices startled them awake. Their situation was so dire that any notion of danger simply was not a consideration. Both began trying to call out for help, but their vocalizations came only as coughs and groans.

Egan picked up a fist-size rock and tossed it into the stream. The clatter and splash made enough noise to do the trick. Within minutes they were surrounded by several people rendering aid. As lightweight jackets were being wrapped around their n***d bodies, Althea became vaguely aware of their rescuer’s beautiful elongated skulls. We’re home! But how?

We’re home! But how?* * *

The next time Egan and Althea roused they found themselves in a hospital room being treated for dehydration and hypothermia. They spoke for a few minutes, checking in with each other to set their minds at ease. Egan felt a huge flood of relief about his wife’s condition. When he had dragged Althea to the creek’s edge she seemed almost too weak to lean over and suck in the water her body desperately needed.

While they lay contemplating their extraordinary situation a doctor and two men wearing Law and Order Directorate identification credentials entered the room. With a kind expression and a gentle voice the doctor began, “Hello Dr. Althea—Professor Egan. Do you know where you are?”

Seeing the Law and Order officers confirmed Althea’s conviction that they’d been returned to Domhan-Siol, though she couldn’t logically navigate how that was possible. “It seems we’re home,” she said.

Egan was not so convinced. Though he remembered being rescued by Domhanians, he couldn’t shake the notion that this might be an extremely vivid hallucination. Possibly these kinds of thoughts were the last a person experienced before dying. He believed that was as plausible as being in a hospital on the homeworld.

The doctor confirmed Althea’s surmise. “Yes, you are home. We were able to identify you by your DNA signatures.”

The taller Directorate officer pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of the two beds. He leaned forward and shifted his gaze from one to the other. “As I’m sure you can imagine, we’re anxious to piece together where exactly you’ve been and how you got home. Can you tell us the last things you remember before waking up in the park yesterday? We know where you were sent, but we don’t know if you ever arrived at that destination. And we don’t know where you’ve been for the last sixty annum.”

“Sixty annum!” Althea exclaimed. “How could we possibly have been gone for sixty annum?” She felt her throat tightening and managed only a strangled croak, “Where is our son? Where is Ramuell?”

The officer pinched his lips together tightly, glanced at his colleague, and then explained, “Ramuell is now seventy-one-annum-old. Kadeya just accepted an assignment with the Anotas-Deithe mission on a planet known as Ghrain-3. She made the jump just a few days ago and took your son with her.”

* * *

Over the next few days Althea and Egan were subjected to a battery of physical and psychological evaluations. Though the medical personnel with whom they interacted seemed compassionate, no one could truly understand the couple’s sense of loss: the lost decades, the lost opportunity to raise their son, the lost hugs and laughter and tears, and a lost sense of faith in the nobility of their species.

Learning that mere days before they were found at the stream’s edge, Kadeya and Ramuell had made an interdimensional jump to a faraway world foisted an ominous sense of foreboding and a shared darkness on the couple.