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Memories of Lori Part 10: A Thirst For Answers

Lance Striker's picture
Submission type:

                                                 ??:?? May ?? 2144

                                  Location Unknown



Am I drowning?

I can feel the water taking me.

Men, there are men here.

Where are they?

I can feel them, but I can't see.

I try to call out, but the water strangles my breath.



With a whining in his ears, reality came back to Striker. His arms were bound behind

him, he tried to move but he was stuck fast to the chair he was seated on. He tried to

open his eyes; nothing, and then...colour, shape, pressure, agony. He snapped them

shut with a gasp of pain. He could feel water dripping from his face, he was soaked.


   “I don't care what it takes, just get him to talk.” Came a muffled male voice.


Footsteps. They grew distant, sinking below until fading entirely. A door groaned

open – metal, unoiled. More footsteps; shuffling, hesitant. A gasp, male, young.


   Striker! You're awake!”


The voice was familiar. He lifted his head, a dry tongue licking even drier lips. His question

caught in his throat, the young man was greeted only with rasping breath.


   Drink? Do you need a drink?”


Striker nodded, his head falling in exhaustion. He heard the rubbing of clothes, leather,

a buckle, then water sloshing in a bottle. A hand on his beard, it lifted his head, lips

peeling apart in anticipation.


   “Here, drink as much as you need.”


The water stung as it graced his lips, skin breaking and tearing with rehydration. He wrapped

them around the mouth of the bottle, trying not to choke as he drank deep. His heart sank

as the bottle emptied, the hand taking it away.


   I'll get you some more.”


   “Where am I?” Striker asked, mopping his lips together.


   “Safe,” the young man replied after a moment of hesitation, “that's all I can say for now.”


   Am I in Hoover Dam?”


   No...why would you think that?”


   “Dead...I died. I felt it.”


   “You were unconscious when we found you, a patrol heard Lori screaming for help. Lucky

    for both of you, there are mutants and worse in this part of the forest.”


   “Lori...where is she!?”


   “Safe. You're both safe, where you belong. With the true Vista.”


Something about the way he said it made Striker uneasy, he thought back to the voice

he heard earlier and his hands, still bound at his back. The familiarity of the young man

in front of him grew.






   “Your dad sent me to find you. Where the hell have you been? What's going on?”


He could hear him pacing on the floor, a nervousness to his breathing.


   “What exactly did he say?”


   “That he misses his son, that he should go home.”


Dustin shuffled towards the door.


   I'll get you food and water. Then we'll talk.”


The door squealed shut, footsteps growing distant once more. Half-formed questions

careened through exhausted thoughts as he tried to piece things together. What did

he mean by true Vista? Where was Lori? How had they survived? He sank in the

chair, powerless and awaited whatever what was to come.







Joe Spivey's picture

((Yeah. Whenever somebody says 'true' Christian or 'true' Scotsman or 'true' any damn thing then you know you are not in nice company and things are likely to get icky.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Lance Striker's picture

(( True.

Lonely are the brave...

Hyle Troy's picture

(( Uff   born again vegetarians....  Hallelujah and pass the lentil broth.. Pray to King Edward, Dance to the Maris Piper. Denounce the Greg Pie  !!!

I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers

Lance Striker's picture


Lonely are the brave...

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