Second Chance War

Bound By Dreams

Thomas awoke to the sound of klaxon sirens, red flashing lights, and yelling people. He was groggy, his body was numb as if he had been shocked, and it hurt everywhere, he tried to move his fingers, no use. Legs, arms? No use there either, he just couldn't move. He was vaguely aware of the sound of many people running through the hall. He may be awake, but the numbing haze was spreading through his body and mind, he though he could hear the major general, he couldn't tell anymore, his hearing was failing, he was falling into an endless black. He knew this feeling, he was dying, could they save him though? Is this the end of his journey? Thomas couldn't let it end this way, but he couldn't move anything.

"WHERE IS THE MEDIC?"

"GET THAT STRETCHER OVER HERE!"

"I AM NOT GOING TO LOSE HIM!"

Thomas lolled from to and fro, he tried to smile, he could vaguely feel hands lifting him up. He was put on something cold and hard. A gurney? Stretcher? Medical table? Time was endless, how did he end up like this? Wasn't he dreaming? How did a dream turn so real? Things didn't make sense. There was more shouting, he was pretty sure it was Major General Hughes.

"YOU, YOU, YOU, FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED, I WANT THIS FACILITY LOCKED DOWN!"

"RADIOMEN GET ON THE HORN, BASE LEVEL ALERT FIVE, NO ONE IN AND NO ONE OUT"

More lights, flashing across his blackened vision, turning his black into a dull red, it almost felt like seeing the inside of a womb, where all is darkness cloaked in a comforting surge of red. It almost brought a smile to his lips if he could smile, he mumbled and groaned though. Hands ripped his bloody and torn shirt off, medicine was being applied, the cold touch bringing a shocking electric sizzle to his body, he could feel it. He could feel it and then he could feel nothing. The world faded to black and his arm limply fell to the side of the stretcher.

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October 8, 1941 X-WING, MEDICAL FACILITY, MOJAVE DESERT, CALIFORNIA

In a room somewhere in the highly classified facility only known as Area One, two figures watched a team of medical professionals get to work. They had a man lying on the table, his body was riddled with holes and stab wounds, you would think he's dead, but contrary to popular belief, the prototype EKG says that he's alive. One of the man standing in front of the glass window was Major General Hughes, the other slightly older man was none other than General Dwight D. Eisenhower. They were having a conversation about what happened twelve hours ago. That's right, the men and women in the surgical unit have been operating for twelve hours nonstop.

"It seems that after he entered his room, the guards outside the door reported a lot of shouting, and strangely enough, gunfire." Major General Hughes was puffing on a cigar, his favorite choice of action. "We checked the room and we found insane amounts of sand, a couple of Sten Mk I sub-machine guns, and a turban. It was all very confusing, our scientists are working around the clock to figure out what happened."

"So, he goes to bed, wakes up, slaughters a ton of guards, and collapses," Eisenhower turns to Hughes, "never mind what happened, Project Kingmaker gets accelerated as soon as he's recovered, we can't delay anymore, it's happening too soon."

"Sir?" Hughes was confused, it turns out the general had more information than him?

"Time-phasing Hughes, we always knew it was a possibility, but the brass dismissed it. For us it seems he goes to sleep, but for him, it's a battle with Kincade. We've kept it under wraps for a long time. We've known about this since he was a child. It goes deeper than you know Hughes." Eisenhower paused and sighed. He shook his head before continuing. "Know one knew anything until reality had already been altered. The journal you have is but a portion, yes it contains a bunch of technological miracles and advancements, but that's just what we gave you. There is a whole other journal, the one that belongs to the real Thomas Conlin. In it he details his battles with Kincade since childhood, he managed to force him back when he turned twelve. Every time they clash, the world around them erupts in blood and violence, we've had to hide quite a few tragedies."

Hughes was shocked, he didn't know what to say. He had only ever thought there was just one journal. He looked at the man on the operating tables as he furrowed his brows, this was becoming more complicated than he bargained for. Still, there was much to be done and only the important questions could be asked.

"How long does he have sir, before this spirals out of control?"  Hughes asked .

"A few months maybe, it can't really be helped. Every night we need to use the AK-213 serum on him before he goes to bed, it will help mitigate the dreams for awhile but not forever." Eisenhower turned to Hughes and looked him square in the eye. "You can't fail on this Frank. There's too much at stake. I'm giving you four weeks to find a solution, or accelerate the current project. If you fail, even God can't help us."

Eisenhower turned around and walked towards the door behind them, he exited the room, an escort of ten guards went with him. Hughes turned back to the glass, the surgeons had just finished taking the last bullet out of Thomas, they closed up his wounds and started binding him with bandages. There were a total of thirty five empty blood bags strewn across the floor, not a single drop of blood remained in them. He tapped on the glass and motioned for the head surgeon. The surgeon then walked through the door to surgery and appeared in front of Hughes after coming through another door.

"I want hourly updates on the situation, anything goes wrong and we all fry. Notify me as soon as he is awake." Hughes grabbed a report off the table in front of him before walking through the same doors Eisenhower exited from. The report was labelled TIME-PHASING, INCIDENT THREE HUNDRED TWENTY TWO, REPORT A. CLASSIFIED, EYES ONLY.