When the Sleeper Wakes copyright © 2000
by Kim EM & Debra Rachel All rights reserved
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between this story and any actual person,
living or dead, is coincidental. The story contains mature subject matter. It may contain
adult situations and/or language. If you’re not old enough to legally read this (and
you know who you are), then get out of here before it’s too late. You’ve been
warned.
Permission is granted to archive or repost this story as long as the text is unaltered, and our copyright and this notice are included. Oh, and this permission is conditional upon it’s being available only on free sites. No membership fee, "Adult Check", or other means of skinning money out of people are allowed.
We’d love to hear from any readers with comments.
Email us at:
Debra Rachel: debra002@hotmail.com
Kim EM: kim@kimem.net
Succeeding chapters and other stories are available at http://www.kimem.net
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Debra: I would have this dedicated to all those that know me and who are supporting me through my changes as they happen.
Kim: Actually, I agree with Deb’s dedication. I’m in the midst of my own transition, and I’d like to thank everyone who has been so helpful and supportive
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -When the Sleeper Wakes by Kim EM & Debra Rachel © 2000
Part 01: Herbert’s Story
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Prologue:
My name is Helen, and this is my story.
The best place to start is the beginning, but I wasn’t here for that part. I’m twenty years old, although I was born thirty-one years ago. Confused? I’m not surprised. My whole life is sort of confusing, and I’ve only just put all the pieces together. I’ve lived all my life in America, Florida to be precise. But I was born in Scotland, and am still a Subject of the Crown. I know, your head is starting to hurt. Maybe this would be easier if I let Herb tell what happened thirty-odd years ago. I’ll be back later.
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Chapter One: HERBERT’S STORY
I was born Herbert Wells in 1950 in the city of Glasgow. I basically had a normal upbringing; I was happy playing and being with my friends. In March of 1969 I applied and was accepted to join the Royal Army. I was placed with the RAMC (the Royal Army Medical Corps) and by the end of 1969 I’d completed all my training.
The only thing left was to pass out from training. I was in the top one percent and very proud of having done so well. There were even mutters about the possibility of my being sent to Sandhurst, the Officer’s School.
On the 3rd of January I passed out from training. My parents were in the audience to watch me march past. As soon as the parade was over the new soldiers all got their postings—except for me. A general came over with my captain and requested me to come with him. Maybe this would be my posting to Sandhurst. I was hopeful as I excused myself from my parents and followed him and the captain.
We went into a little room, and the General cautioned me that I wasn’t to say anything about what went on in that room. Nothing. To anyone. Ever. I agreed and he said that he was looking for a volunteer for special duty. If I refused it wouldn’t go on my service record. That’s what they said, but I knew the truth. If I refused, they would remember, and it would dog me for the rest of my career, if I had one left at all. If I took the special duty I would receive a letter of commendation in my service record but that would be it. It hardly seemed fair, but then the Army didn’t have a reputation for fairness. The general told me that "if" I took the assignment I would have a six-week leave of absence and then I would be taken somewhere secret.
I asked if I had to decide right away, thinking about the two- week leave that I had earned by completing training. The General said that he needed an answer within 48 hours. I told him I would think about it that night and let him know the following morning. The General said that was fine and he gave me a number that I could use to reach him.
As I left, he made a point of reminding me that I couldn’t tell anyone about our discussion. And the captain hadn’t said a word. Why was he there? As soon as I had left the room and found my parents they asked me what the general had wanted. I told them that I couldn’t talk about it and that I had some thinking to do. My dad immediately said "Okay, I understand.", but my mother kept trying to get me to tell her what had happened. Father stuck up for me saying "Leave him alone, Susan, he told you that he’s not allowed to talk about it." My mother wasn’t happy but let it go. The following day I decided that I would take the special duty and called the number. After all, it’s not as though I had a choice. Once I had this voice at the other end of the phone, I just said "Yes" and hung up.
A few moments later my phone rang. It was the General, saying "As of this moment you are working for me. If you have any problems call me on the same number and I will deal with it. You are now on 6 weeks leave. When your leave ends, report to Redford barracks in Edinburgh." And with that he hung up. What had I gotten myself into?
I decided to just enjoy my six weeks leave and let it go at that. Just before I was due to begin my leave, I received a letter addressed to Lance Corporal H. Wells. I wondered why it had given me the rank of Lance Corporal. I decided that it must be a mistake, and opened it.
"Private Wells, you are hereby Promoted to the rank of Lance Corporal and ordered to report to General Jones at Rexford Barracks on the 18th of February 1970." It was signed with a name that I couldn’t read.
Six weeks. It seems like a long time, but this particular six weeks flashed by. I had a tearful farewell with my mother whilst my father just shook my hand and reminded me to write to him and keep them both informed. I said that I would write when I could, but that he had to understand that the nature of my assignment was such that it might make letters infrequent. He seemed to understand, but made me promise to try to keep in touch. And on February 18th, 1970, I reported to the commandant’s office at Rexford Barracks.
They were expecting me. As soon as I presented my orders, I was hustled behind the counter into the commandant’s office. The commandant told me to leave my kit in the Guard room and report directly to General Jones. I couldn’t figure out why he would get personally involved in something as unimportant as this. I left the guard room and marched directly to the General’s office. Once I got there I stopped for a moment to make sure my appearance was passable. After all, I had been traveling for the last twelve hours. That does a lot to degrade a person’s appearance, but in the Royal Army that is never an excuse for a slovenly appearance.
I knocked on the door to the office and the General called me in immediately. Obviously he’d been notified that I’d reported. I marched into the office and came to attention and saluted him. "Lance Corporal Wells reporting for duty sir!" The General told me to stand easy then he told me to sit down. I took the chair in front of his desk and sat there nervously, waiting to hear what he had to say. "I am going to tell you now what your duty is. If you don’t understand anything at any time you are to ask me. We need you to try out a new drug that will hold you in stasis for a time."
I interrupted him at that point and asked what he meant by ‘stasis’.
"By stasis," he continued, looking annoyed at being interrupted, "we mean a deep sleep like the hibernation some animals go into. That’s basically what we want to test." Then he asked if I had questions.
Well, he said that he wanted me to question things I didn’t understand, but he acted like they were most unwelcome. Still, I had to know what I was getting into before it was too late. "How long will I be kept in stasis?" I asked. "we expect the initial experiment to last six months. At that point we shall bring you round and make sure everything is all right." He paused a moment before continuing, as though he had reservations about telling me the rest. "After that we may put you back under again for a longer period, depending on what happens the first time around."
I asked about my family. They would certainly become suspicious if they didn’t hear from me for all that time. The General replied that my family was the least of their worries. I could write some letters in advance and we would send them over the time I was in stasis."
This didn’t sit very well with me, but if I turned down the assignment or made an issue of this, it would likely end my military career before it had even started.
"I think that’s all my questions sir, and may I thank you for my promotion."
The general just laughed and said "Actually I am just about to promote you again to Sergeant as you may need the rank." I was pretty well flabbergasted at this. Two promotions in less than two months, especially just out of training, was unheard of. "As of tomorrow morning you are Sergeant Wells, so make sure that your uniforms are correct. That’s all for now, Sergeant. I’ll see you tomorrow at 1000 hours."
I stood up, saluted, and left the office to pick up my kit from the guard room. When I got there I asked where I was to be billeted. They told me to go to the sergeants mess and find the orderly on duty and ask him where my room was to be. When I arrived at the sergeant’s mess I found the orderly. He asked what I was doing there but once I told him my name he showed me where my room was and told me about the meal times. I went straight to my room and settled in. I was thinking the entire time about the procedure that I was going to undergo, whilst I was thinking about that I was altering my uniforms again to reflect my new rank.
I enjoyed the thought of the new promotion, but I have to admit that I was somewhat aggrieved about the necessity of altering my uniforms again.
***
The next morning I was outside General Jones’s office at 0955, waiting for the appointed hour to arrive. In the army, especially when dealing with generals, you are neither late nor early. At precisely 1000 hours I knocked on his door and was told to enter. I marched in, came to attention, and saluted. The general said to sit down until he was through with some other work.
I’m not sure I could even begin to describe what happened next. When the general was ready, he led me to secure part of the installation, one I hadn’t even realized was there. I was brought before some doctors, and ordered to strip. With some degree of trepidation, I did so, and was immediately given an injection.
One doctor apologized, but told me that they preferred for me to not know too much about what was to happen. The injection took good care of that. I have vague memories of being poked and prodded, being forced to give specimens from virtually every bodily orifice, and having what seemed like an inordinate amount of blood drawn.
I was X-rayed, fluoroscoped, and scanned in myriad ways, but nothing of what they were doing was explained to me. Once I vaguely recall a technician making a comment about needing additional genetic material before anything could be grown, but he was immediately shushed by the others. I couldn’t even say whether the testing took hours or weeks, but eventually they took me into a different laboratory, one with what appeared to be large tanks that seemed to be sucking all the heat from the room. I was laid onto a gurney, and an IV drip was started.
I weakly looked up at the doctors, and saw the general standing in the middle of the group. As I faded out, I heard him mutter "Goodbye, Sergeant Wells, and may God have mercy on both of us." That’s the last thing I knew before my world ended.
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Interlude: HELEN
This is Helen. I’m back.
I know, Herb isn’t the most colorful guy. But he changes. And you needed to know all that for MY story to make sense.
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To Be Continued....
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© 2000
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this
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