From the Story Arc: The Sleeper Awakens

Previous Story in the Arc: Secrets Revealed by Khrushchev (Monday, May 16, 2005)

(posted Tuesday, May 17, 2005)


“We have been walking quite awhile Soviette how much farther is it?”

Khrushchev placed his hands in front of his face as the room became too bright for his swollen eyes.

“We are almost there” the older women spoke, Khrushchev became aware he was no longer with Soviette.

“Wait who are you people? ---why am I on this bed?”

“I just told you sir about five minutes ago my name is Emily Watson---and this is Donald Grant we will be assisting you with your surgery---we are almost there”.

Khrushchev looked panicked as he watched the lights on the ceiling passing him by. “What surgery are they talking about?” Khrushchev spoke to himself as he looked down his chest to see he was wearing only a surgical gown. Fiber cabling and I.V. tubes were coming from his arm and chest. Raising his hands he could see sensors taped to his finger tips.

“Where are you taking me? ---why are all of these machines hooked up to me? Where is Soviette?”

Emily looked at Donald shrugging her shoulders as she did not know what to say, “I don’t know who Soviette is---do you?”

“No can’t say I do”.

“Wait! ---Donald Grant where do I know that name? ---don’t I know you?”

“I don’t think so sir---I’m pretty good with faces and I am sure I would remember some one of your stature”.

“Yes I do…” Khrushchev began to slur his words as the medication in the I.V. began to take effect. “Yeah you’re Home World---a Peace Bringers, it’s me Khrushchev ---come on got to help me, I don’t know what is happening to me, please I need your help. Tell me where you taking me?” Khrushchev began to flail and move but the heavy medication that he was now receiving began to slow his abilities. He finally stopped and lay perfectly still.

“I have no idea of whom you are referring to; please, just try and rest. We need to tell them he is having these memories again and they need to be wiped clean”.

“Right---I wrote it on my chart and it will be included with our notes. Umm Donald…”


“Why did he call you Home World? ---Do you know this man?” Emily questioned Donald in a concerning voice.

“Not sure really, I know him only from studying the case file”.

“Well I will just jot that down in my notes they may want to know…”

“No!” Donald started to yell but stopped. “Sorry for yelling I just mean, I don’t think it’s necessary to log that”.

“Oh---Ok---if you say so”.

Khrushchev was brought into a large room where several Doctors and Engineers presided. The anesthesiologist was the first to speak to Khrushchev, as he walked near his bed side. He placed a mask over his face. "Breathe deeply," Khrushchev remembered him saying.

“What will I remember? Will I feel anything? What if I wake? What is that you’re putting into me?”

“You will be fine” he spoke to Khrushchev although his words began to garble as Khrushchev began to fall to the medication. “I’m an administering Anesthesia it typically consists of three medications: a paralytic to ensure the patient doesn't move, a hypnotic to induce unconsciousness and a narcotic to numb pain. It's the combination of these drugs in their various doses that determines the depth of unconsciousness".

Several hours would pass but to Khrushchev the time seemed to be instantaneous. However to his surprise he woke not to a dream but to a horrible reality. Khrushchev woke to pitch black, unable to open his eyes. He tried to scream and move, but everything was paralyzed except his mind. He felt the knife on his chest; they were slicing him open, widening the incision, and digging. "I feel the pain" he tried desperately to speak but his mouth would not move.

“My god the pain---stop the pain!” Khrushchev screamed as loud as he could.

“Hey I said I was sorry, I didn’t know the door would close on your foot like that. Stop being a big baby and let’s go”. Soviette placed her hands on her hips as she watched Khrushchev stand up.

“Soviette? ---when did you get here?” Khrushchev began struggling with reality the constant changing of memories became frightening to him. “They were cutting me open my chest---it burns!”

“I’ve been here the whole time, the burning you’re feeling---it’s probably something you ate---it’s just heart burn. No can we please get going?”

“No it’s not food they cut me open---I can prove it---look!” Khrushchev lifted up his tee shirt and showed his chest to Soviette “see!”

Soviette smirked as she walked towards Khrushchev placing her right hand on his muscular chest. “I don’t see anything…” she continued to slowly rub the chest as he looked down at her hand she quickly stopped. “Sorry---you’re fine---see no scars, but you do have a bruise on your arm”.

Khrushchev looked at his chest there was no sign of any surgery, not incision marks anywhere. “What bruise are you talking about?” he looked up and down his arm and saw nothing.

“This one…” Soviette reached back and punched Khrushchev in the arm “feel better? --- Now can we please go?”

To be continued…