Dichotomy

By T.S Kuginskie

Inspired by the environment surrounding the Atomic Energy Reservation in Eastern Washington State, where I was employed for several years during the late 70s and early 80s, and the recent (at that time) rumors that the United States Government was recruiting college students and training them as future agents, Dichotomy evolved as a possible blueprint for that scenario. It occurred to me, that if it could be done with college-age students, why not younger individuals? If the training could be effective for teenagers, why not even more effective for children? What would the limitations be, morally, ethically, and physically? The how, the why, and the impact of such an approach took on a life of their own and Dichotomy was born.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496900739

T.S Kuginskie

An unceasing and limitless imagination, endless curiosity, and deep respect for the written word provides incentive for Ms. Kuginskie’s drive for communication. A lifetime as a serial scholar opened avenues to a varied professional career, including 35 years as a Registered Nurse and 15 as a Private Investigator, providing multiple points of view from which to create and develop characters and story lines. In addition to “Dichotomy”, Ms. Kuginskie has put her past experience to good use in an autobiographical memoir, “Hugs From The Heart”.

Book preview

(PROLOGUE)

He lay on his stomach, intent on the small, darkened structure a quarter mile distant. There was no sound to alert him to the approach of the black-clothed figure; nothing warned him to expect the sudden pressure of the knee between his shoulder blades.

The almost gentle grasp of the hand, as it curved around to cup his chin, prevented his face from being forced into the musty loam of the forest floor. He felt a wave of fear as he caught, in the periphery of his vision, a glimpse of the smudged visage hovering above him, and he wondered, for one quick moment, how he could’ve missed seeing the figure leave the shepherd’s hut. Not that it mattered anymore.

Another hand cradled the back of his head, gave a short, swift twisting motion, and the muffled pop of his cervical spine cut short the exclamation forced from him by the sight of his killer’s face. Whatever it was that he’d wanted to say died with him there… in the decaying remains of other lives.

With no hesitation, the dark figure stepped clear of the inert form. At the cliffside, a small tree trunk provided a convenient makeshift belay, and the shadow slipped over the edge as smoothly as if it were a silken waterfall.

The soft swishing of the rope through the caribiner, along the palms of the leather gloves and around the waist strap, was the only sound to mark the swift rappel down the rock face. Once down, harness and rope abandoned, nothing hampered the silent journey to the forested valley below. Even the wild creatures of the night might have doubted their ears at the sight and smell of the intruder’s progress.

Across the valley a less patient man held yet another vigil. Periodically, he would climb down from the small helicopter and trace a circular path in the dark clearing, peering intently into the thick underbrush as if perseverance could improve his night vision. Then, with a sigh, he’d return to his waiting.

Three hours had elapsed since his passenger had disappeared, wraithlike, into the surrounding darkness, and for two of those three hours he’d been attempting to control his increasing anxiety. Every tiny sound, each rustling leaf, even the muted cries of the nocturnal creatures startled him, precipitating still another circumvention of the tiny meadow, and another click of his tongue as he chided himself in exasperation.

Startled from his reverie by a slight motion, more sensed than seen, his eyes searched the underbrush, heart thudding solidly against his ribs. In spite of his intent scrutiny, he was still startled by the appearance of the figure at the open door opposite him. Pure reflex took over, and he reached for the slim hand as it groped in the darkness for some purchase on the smoothness of the leather-covered seat.

Even before his passenger had settled in, the pilot had set the great blades in motion, expertly lifting the machine into the air. One glance at the impassive face, a ghostly-white blur in the darkness, and the pilot turned his attention to his powerful machine. There were no voluntary answers in the green eyes, and he knew better than to ask questions.

Neither spoke during the short flight. The black-garbed figure remained tense as a spring throughout the transfer to the small twin-engine seaplane, and silence was maintained until the coastline had receded in the distance. Only then was there a slight softening of the features, a gentle curve of a smile to the straight line of the mouth.

A soot-darkened hand reached to take hold of the black watch-cap, pulling it free of the small, well-shaped head. As long, blond braids swung down to frame the rounded, pink cheeks, the smile widened and the young girl allowed a sigh to escape from somewhere deep inside. She was alive, home-free and safe… until next time.

(CHAPTER 1)

Karyn jerked to a sitting position, streams of sweat tracing icy paths along her shuddering body. She struggled for breath, shoulders and chest heaving as she attempted to fill her empty lungs. Eyes wide in the darkness, their depths reflecting her terror, she strained to catch a glimpse of the object of her fear.

Realization came slowly, but come it did, and the clenched hands relaxed, began to open. Consciously, she slowed her breathing, willed her heart to stop its insane tattoo. The warmth of the air evaporated the dampness from her clammy skin.

Just a dream, girl, she murmured to herself, fighting down an irrational urge to giggle. Just another crazy dream!

From the other side of the double bed, Jeff mumbled sleepily, his voice thick with antagonism. He’d stopped being concerned for her months ago, attributing the nightmares to the alcohol that had become her constant crutch. She didn’t blame him. Poor Jeff—pragmatic, logical Jeff—couldn’t understand the sudden darkness that had enveloped her mind any more than she, herself, could.

She rolled out of bed, staggering to the bathroom. A moment of panic nearly overcame her as the light switch eluded her groping, numbed fingers. Sighing in relief as the small room was flooded with light, she sagged against the closed door for a moment—willing her knees to stop shaking. Crossing to the sink on wobbly legs, she bent to splash her flushed face with cold water.

Avoiding the reflection in the mirror of the medicine chest, Karyn dried her face on the small hand towel. She knew what she’d see, what she’d seen so many nights before; the hollow, burned-out eyes, staring back at her as if it was she, not the girl in the mirror, who was a sudden stranger. A shiver rippled through the thin frame. There was little more than skin to protect the bone and muscle from the chill now, all extra flesh had melted away as the terror grew.

She hurried back to the warmth of the bed, sliding carefully beneath the covers in an effort not to disturb the man who lay silently, his back toward her. When his breathing had returned to a normal rhythm, she stretched a foot across the expanse which separated them, the touch as soft as goose down. She sighed as his foot slid away from hers. He was still awake then, she realized—in his sleep he still welcomed her touch, murmuring her name as he’d done in happier times. Before the nightmares came and she’d begun to run.

In the beginning she’d tried to talk to him about it, but his frequent business trips out of town had left her alone to face the terror too often and, eventually, she’d stopped relying on him entirely. She felt an irrational anger for his inability to help, but she couldn’t really blame him when she, herself, in spite of all her efforts, remained frustrated and annoyed by a total lack of success. At this point she wasn’t even sure who she pitied most, him or herself!

He’d been so strong after the accident, so reassuring when she’d finally been allowed to see the purple mass of swollen flesh that disguised her familiar features, so gentle and supportive during the painful months afterward as her shattered face was slowly reconstructed. He’d blamed himself—for giving her the horse in the first place—for allowing her to mount a jumpy animal—and he’d thrown himself into her treatment with a vengeance. The physical damage he could see, and he addressed himself to its correction. The other damage, the havoc being wreaked on her mind by the medications, he did not suspect.

Closing her eyes once again, she willed herself to sleep, a state which had become impossible, in the past few months, without the aid of alcohol. Even then she found no rest… sooner or later the black-robed figures would come, single file, to the foot of the bed, and they would stand there as if floating on air, waiting for her to drop her guard.

When they’d first appeared, she’d thought they represented death with the ruby-red eyes staring at her from the depths of the cowls, and that they’d come to take her with them. It had only been recently that she’d begun to understand that it wasn’t her death they desired, but her awareness—they had a secret to tell her, a secret that she didn’t want to know, and they were waiting for her defenses to lower enough that their own power would be sufficient to force her to hear the message.

As soon as she was tired enough, saddened enough, hopeless enough, they would reveal to her a truth that would be a devastation of all she considered real and honest! Somehow she knew this, and she fought the revelation with what was left of her strength.

As her fear began to mount, she rolled, carefully, over the edge of the bed, noticing, as she did so, that Jeff sought her warmth now. Dismissing an urge to rejoin him, she told herself that the chances of waking him were too high. She knew she couldn’t bear another rejection… not tonight. Slipping quickly into the shirt and Levi’s she’d worn the night before, she let herself out the back door. Without so much as a glance to either side she broke into a relaxed, loose-jointed run.

The night was black velvet, last night’s sliver of moon gone now. The soft glow from the street lights two blocks over did little to illuminate her path. No matter—feet that had traveled this route, time and time again, took over, carrying her, unerringly, to safety.

Along the levee her tired legs dragged her, exhaustion in the measured thud of each step. The smell of the great Columbia River filled her head as she swung into the cluster of trees which comprised the tiny park. She flung her tired, wasted body onto the dew-damp grass, and she slept, safe from the robed figures who could not trap her here beneath the wide sky.

Where’ve you been this time? Jeff’s voice was cold, angry, and the peace Karyn had found in her untroubled nap began to dissolve.

Walking.

For more than two hours! he exploded, tearing the last remnants of calm from her. For God’s sake, Karyn, I can’t take any more of this!

Her own anger flared briefly, then died as the pain carved across the beloved face she’d sworn to love, honor, cherish. He loved her so, and she him—somehow it didn’t seem fair that love wasn’t enough to banish the insanity controlling her mind.

I know, Jeff… I know. Me, too. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Why? . . . No don’t tell me, I don’t want to know! Frustration stretched his features tight as he turned abruptly, long strides carrying him into the bedroom.

Saffron and crimson streaks reached across the morning sky as Karyn waited for him to emerge from behind the closed door. Sipping hot, black coffee, she marveled at the almost daily phenomenon of desert sunrises. She cleared her throat, swallowing hard, as she blinked back the sting of tears. So perfect when they’d first come here—all their joy and happiness dead now, lost in the maze of her nightmare world.

The sound of the bedroom door opening forced Karyn’s thoughts back to the realities of the moment. She turned as Jeff walked past her into the kitchen, his small carry-on suitcase in his hand. With a curious mixture of dread and relief, she followed him to the front door. He stopped suddenly, right hand on the knob, his back still turned toward her.

Jeff, her voice quavered as she saw his shoulders shake, and she realized, with a jolt, that he was crying. It was too late to save what apparently didn’t exist anymore, she knew that, but she wished with all her heart that they had tried a little harder, a little sooner. Jeff, this just isn’t any good… , her voice cracked, sounding hollow and hopeless.

We’ll discuss it when I get back from Columbus. Oh, god, she’d forgotten he was scheduled to fly to the Columbus labs today! She cursed herself again, guilt overwhelming her, as usual.

Lord, Jeff, I’m sorry! It totally slipped my mind—of course we can talk about it later. Don’t worry about it, it’s probably just another of those crazy notions I’ve been prone to lately, and I’m sure I’ll be over it by the time you get back. What time does your plane leave? I’m so sorry… !

Karyn, stop it! He whirled around to face her, tears standing in the soft brown eyes. I don’t think I can take much more.

The silence begun on the drive to the airport stretched, agonizingly, as they waited for Jeff’s flight to be announced. At some point their hands met, held fast, a mute testimony to the love they had always shared. When the desk clerk called for the passengers to begin boarding, Karyn found herself in Jeff’s arms. Desperately, they clung to one another, each holding tightly to the remnants of their love.

I’ll call from Columbus, he promised, as he always did. I love you, Karyn, more than I’ll ever love anyone again.

I’ll be waiting, she answered, though they both knew he wouldn’t make the call. I love you, too, Jeff. I always have—always will.

As Karyn watched his plane disappear into the clear sky, the bittersweet taste of their last kiss still clinging to her lips, she felt her heart break and shatter into a million pieces. The agony was unbearable and her mind echoed with a silent shriek of pain for what she’d lost.

The human mind displays a phenomenon when subjected to pain beyond which it’s sanity is threatened. It simply blocks out the pain, leaving a vacuum, totally void of any feeling whatever. By the time she’d pulled into the driveway, Karyn was blessedly numb. No one could hurt her now. She’d thrown away the only thing that made her life worth living; there was nothing left for her to lose. Jeff had been life to her, and losing him a constant threat, but now all fear was gone. There was no reason to fear death when life was absent. They were both free now, she and Jeff, and a strange peace came with that thought.

That night, for the first time, she saw the shadows on the rise behind the house. She watched them curiously for a while, two figures, standing motionlessly in the growing darkness. Unconsciously, her hand reached out to the glass, three fingers extended, to scribe three slashes in the steam from her breath. A talisman, perhaps, to protect her from the unknown? Maybe a signal, then, for one of the figures turned, walking briskly along the levee toward her park. The second figure hesitated a moment before turning to stride off in the opposite direction from his companion.

Now that’s odd, she mused, as the figures were swallowed up in the dusk. She stared at the three lines, a memory pushing at her thoughts. Definitely one to talk to the shrink about!

She slept like a baby that night, without the benefit of alcohol, for the first time in a very long time. There was nothing to warn her that the horrors of the recent past would soon pale into insignificance when compared with the secrets of the distant past or that, very soon, she would be faced with the knowledge that she was not the person she thought. The ‘truths’ upon which she’d built her life would soon be revealed for the paper-thin fabrications they, in reality, were, and she’d be left to try to rebuild on the ruins of her hopes. But tonight, she slept.

(CHAPTER 2)

Dr. Andrew Whitcomb jerked bolt upright in the large leather armchair he, somewhat self-consciously, called his security blanket. In spite of his efforts to maintain