The Memory Garden

Chapter 5 By William S 

Blinking what felt like sleep out of the way he opened his eyes to the most depressing sight he had ever witnessed. Before him stretched pristine white sand beaches glistening in the sun. Palm fronds fluttered in a tropical breeze, fluffy clouds without a hint of rain in them hung over the horizon. He shut his eyes tight, voiding the sights. The sound of surf pounded upon his ears. A lone albatross coasting on a thermal cawed a hello. Crabs, fat and greasy clicked and skittered about. He crushed his ears with rough skinned hands, deigning the sounds. The warm wind caressed his face. Sand, scratchy and clinging itched him. The heat of the sun wrapped him like a blanket. Back and forth he swayed in a hammock or woven rope.Mathew Lemon was in the South Pacific. He was back in Hell."A Dream. Nothing more then an afternoon's daydream. I'm still here, I'm still in my cell." Reality slammed itself home. The weight of the truth descended on him, crushed and pulverized him. None of it had been real. He had not been reprieved and freed, not been removed from this accursed paradise. White had not called for him. He had not seen a live friendly face or tasted the joy of living with others again. He was still here on his island with his palm tree garden, carved drift wood zoo and short stories written in his blood on rocks as desolate as he was.Lemon wept and cried for the cruel trick his imagination had played on him.Irrelevant time pasted. Days, nights, hours, years meant nothing here. Some were short, some long. Others repeated or played themselves out backwards. Here he had been since his sentencing and incarceration. Here he know in his heart of hearts he would remain, alone and forgotten. The world would pass on without him and he an agent of change would stay in a cell that was perfect and uncaring what he did to it.Lemon continued to weep and cry. He cursed his foolishness for letting his imagination play upon his desire to be elsewhere, anywhere then here.He needed not feed or wash. Sleep was a hobby, not a necessity. There was never a moment of exhaustion. No disease or predators, nor dangers outside of himself of any kind. He would age but never grow old. Life was eternal here, for what good is a prison you can escape from. He had drowned, bled, and bludgeoned himself. Strangulation was only good for an orgasmic high. He had swam for all his might to the distant line where the ocean and sky met, never looking back, only to come upon his island once more. He had fashioned weapons, ripped, torn, and gutted himself. Setting his trees on fire only meant they would grow back twice in size, and number, twice in mocking. Being burned hurts a lot more then your mind can imagine. Self-inflicted pain grew mentally tiresome. It was no more an enemy or friend. Death was reduced to a theory. Lemon sank inward into a black place deep beyond the most crippling of depressions. Here he sat, tears flowed no more. Feelings faded, existence dulled.It was no good he thought. It was no good just lying there and punishing himself for giving into what he wanted most. He tried to cherish the memories of his dream. Tried to remember the faces he had seen and conversations he had had. Rousing himself from one of the many hammocks he had made, each with a different view of things he knew every inch, and nuances of. He padded to the edge of the shore and stared deeply into the crystal water searching for a glimpse of his emotion worn face. His hat was in the way he removed it to get a better look.Wait. He was not jailed wearing a hat… Lemon stared in disbelief at his suit. This was not what he had been wearing? His dark green prison coveralls having long rotted off his body. He was still dreaming that must be it or had it happened, had the magic etched onto his once exposed skull bones given way and finally he was insane. At least he thought that would be a change. Something to do. Madness in its myriad forms to explore."Who are you called?" The voice came from everywhere and carried with it the taste of everything. Lemon could not help but blink and gap slack jawed and befuddled. The voice repeated. "Who are you called?""Lemon, I am Lemon." His voice was so tiny he could barely hear it."This is a lie. Who are you called?" Pain filled him. He dropped to his knees, seawater slopping, seeping and staining his trousers. His flesh on fire for his lie, tears once more burst from him."I am Mathew Lemon.""This is your second lie. Who are you called?" Swooning now with the pain of muscles melting and bones cracking he rolled to his side and feebly crawled into the surf in search of relief."I told you my name. It is all I have! Please the pain. Make the pain stop. I've been punished enough. I've learned my lesson. Please!" Flesh now dripping from him into the sea he crawled onward."Who are you called?""Seventeen… Experimental Diplomatic alternative Seventeen." His lips now gone formed the words unbidden. Physical pain vanished. Rage and shame washed over him, as did the sea. He had left that accursed title behind in the Ministry laboratories, lecture halls and torture chambers filled with white smocked, black lens doctors and executioners."What are you?""I told you I'm an experiment." He dragged himself to his feet, clad once more in his body and cloths, wet, but unharmed."This is a lie. "What are you?" His vision flared and faded. His sight gone, gone forever he knew it."I'm, I'm a weapon…""This is your second lie. What are you?" he stumbled and sagged as he ceased to feel the world around him. Taste disappeared. Well at least it was change, but what would his prison be like with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company? The truth must be told."I am a failed Agent of Change for Her Titanic Mysteries Special Service." The truth being the word failed. With that his hearing and smell vanished. He was caught from the reality he knew and drifted only in his mind. He may have screamed and wept, he could not tell."What are you?" his own voice spoke to him now."I'm not sure. I really am not. I can tell you what I would like to think of myself as being? Is that what you want to hear?" Silence. He answered anyways. "A hero. I'm a hero." His senses returned. Lemon sighed with relief and tried not to pee himself in delight."Why?" The voice of all sounded close, conspiratory.Lemon kept his mouth shut and thought long and hard. He returned to a hammock to sit a bit and recover. This was turning out to be a long day."Because I don't know how to be anything else." He whispered it to himself, but the reality heard him.Lemon yanked his face from the Basin. The gray-green sludge of security clearance level three evaporating from his flushed face. The half-breed clerk stared unabashedly at him making sure that the tell tail blue staining of the skin was not becoming visible. "Your clear sir." With deft hands and quick movements he cleaned the thermos and pen from the table. The basin he flipped over a shoulder to smash on the warehouse floor behind him. Lemon gave him as smile, smoothed back his grey hair and placed his hat firmly back on."Well I'm glad of that. Hate to walk out of here blue and dying of ink poisoning." He hoped his voice sounded solid to the clerk. The shock and terror of the security test was still playing havoc on his nerves."Who wouldn't be glad of that." The demon entered a note into his logbook and turned to fetch the package Lemon had come here to retrieve. Over his shoulder he offhand mentioned. "I've seen that level of security check done only twice. It doesn't seem that bad.""Have you ever been through it?" Lemon knew his voice was frosty as he said it; he tried to keep his look of disgust of his face."Nope.""Then don't say stupid things." The demon paused in his work and turned back. A sneer was there but it faded quickly at a stern look from Lemon."Are we going to be difficult to each other?""Don't worry about it. You never told me your name." Lemon accepted a small black Ops-like army duffle bag. "My name is Kaplin.""That's a good name. Nice to meet you." Mathew held out his right hand. The demon wiped a palm across his green hoodie and gave him a firm handshake."Likewise." They looked at each other not sure where to go with the conversation. They decided to busy themselves with tasks instead. Kaplin went back to making notes in the logbook. Lemon reached for the bag and gave it a rattle. No noise issued from within. He turned the bag over examining it from all angles till he found the most likely zipper keeping it closed. With a shrug he unzipped it and spilled out its contents onto the counter. Kaplin's eyes went wide with shock, and then narrowed as they looked at the contents. Scattering and clattering about were four ivory dominoes, yellowed with age; A cartoon style tarot card, the six of wands; A NVIDIA GeForce 4 MK400 video graphics card; half of a cracked marble chess board, split corner to corner, sixteen seashells of various types; A leather bound CD holder, but no CD's; Two brass candle stick holder slightly tarnished each with a bleeding yellow candle within; A deck of bumble bee playing cards; An Zippo lighter engraved with Johnny Black, Private 1st Class, Blue Squad; 2 Trojan Medium condoms, ribbed for her pleasure, with spermicidal lubricant; A well-thumbed hustler; A bullet holed civil war era tin tea pot, missing its handle with a minie ball rattling about within and a red Gortex fanny pack. Kaplin whistled softly, Lemon frowned and spoke his mind."What the hell is all this garbage for?" He hadn't meant to say that aloud but confusion made his mind slip. He picked the playing cards up and put them down, then the CD case followed by one of the dominos. The fanny pack caught his eye. Maybe the rest of the contents were a ruse and this is what White had sent him to this depressing place with its industrial green walls for. He snagged a strap. The bag growled. Kaplin blinked and looked over."Did that just growl?""I don't think so…" Lemon shrugged again and unzipped the fanny. It resisted, but he got it open. When he let go the zippers pull-tab, it zipped back up again. "Well now that's curious." He tried again, only to have the same thing happen. A third time and still he was stopped from see what was inside. In frustration he tossed the pack into the black bag. He piled all the other contents on top of it. Kaplin watched out of the corner of his eye while pretending to continue to make more log notes. Lemon gave him a parting smile and made ready to leave. Kaplin chewed his lower lip a little and then made his mind up."Wait…" He shock a little at his boldness."Yes? Did I forget something?" Lemon turned back and looked down at the bag, around the room and at the Clerk. "No, not really, well maybe.""Which is it?""I well. Look, um, take me with you?" Kaplin felt a touch silly for having said it, but there was no retreat. He couldn't stand the thought of spending another moment here. With it's fucking logbook, green walls and Yuri making a pigs ass of everything. There had to be something better to do."Pardon." Lemon wasn't expecting such a request, but never one to pass up an opportunity to let someone speak their mind he waited."Look. I can't fucking stand it here. This place is a prison. I want out, I want to be out there doing, not fucking standing back here counting, invoicing and logging." Kaplin spread his arms wide and asked Lemon to look about once more with his body language. "I'm a trained officer of the Ministry, I’ve got field qualification, I'm fucking good at it to. Shit I deserve to be out of here. You're a full agent you can vet and flag me. You're my ticket out. Just… fuck it. I need to escape this place. You know what I mean?”Lemon looked him over again. "Yes, yes I know what you mean." His voice trailed off as he looked over at the shards of the porcelain bowl, now clean of the evaporated security test. "But why? Why should I?""Shit, I got skills, talents, I know how to curb stomp with the best of them. Fuck I'll even carry you luggage just get me out of here.""Tell me one really useful thing you’re good for.""I'll give you two. I can drink anyone under the table and I know how to get anywhere in the Pinnacle.""Anywhere or anyone?""Fuck in some cases those words are interchangeable."Lemon didn't take long to decide. His mission was going to be difficult enough as it was. Dragging the half-breed along might help. If anything he could use him as a meat shield in a tussle. "Okay. You hired." He handed over the Dawn package and gave one of his ear lobes a tug. "Just remember if you screw the pooch I'm not whipping your remains up.""No biggy." Kaplin hopped the counter top and shouldered the bag. Without a backward glance he strolled through the transparent door after his new boss.Outside midway down the cracked concrete steps of the Department building the two of them stopped a moment. Lemon checked his handless watch. It was threatening to rain. "We need to find the Ministry of People. Is it still buried under
Times square?" "No they had to move it, too many rats. It's part of the Tatterdowns now.""What the hell is a Tatterdown?"“Its addendum world to the Pinnacle. It's difficult to explain, you sort of have to see it to believe it.""Must I?""Not really. I know some short cuts." Kaplin shrugged. Matthew frowned."Either way. We need to get there. I'm allowed a team to help me complete my mission. We're to pick them up from there.""Sure thing, all we need do is take the new subway there. This way." Kaplin walked the rest of the way down the steps, Lemon trailing. At the bottom they turned south and walked off into the distance.“A subway? That’s new. Convenient is it?”“The subway, fuck ya. Just finding it’s a bitch.”“Thrilling.”Fluttering overhead a little red robin darted after them.