#at first I felt like Lucas was being too whiny and wimpy

[lucas-taylor-rpg]

The Second It Began, Part 8

((Previously))

A few more minutes had passed. Lucas finished sipping his milk, prompting his father to comment, “Finally! Took you long enough.” Lucas frowned at him. The commander ignored that. He took the empty cup—and, much to his son’s disappointment, filled it up with more milk. Lucas frowned again. “Don’t give me that look, kid,” Taylor said while putting the cup back on the table. “You’ve got to drink.”

“No, I don’t,” Lucas replied. “I’ve had one cup, I think that’s enough for now. Actually, I think that’s enough for eternity.”

“Come on, it’s one cup,” Taylor urged. “Can’t you handle drinking just one more cup?”

“I can handle it with no problem,” Lucas claimed. “I just don’t want to.”

Taylor blinked. “Really? No problem?” he questioned. “It seemed to me you had a pretty big problem with the first cup. You were sipping it for half an hour.”

“I—” Lucas opened his mouth as if to respond, yet it took him a couple of seconds to find his words. Taylor raised his eyebrows at him. “That wasn’t because I couldn’t handle it!” the young man defended himself. “That was…” His voice trailed off.

“What?”

“You know what?” he said, leaning forward. “Here.” He grabbed the cup of milk and raised it to his lips. After giving his father a look, he downed its contents at once. Good grief, was it gross! He had to fight hard not to grimace at the taste—or, god forbid, puke. In spite of his efforts, there was a frown on his face as he put the empty cup down. He exhaled, then looked up at his father. “Happy?” he asked.

“Very,” Taylor said, smiling. “Want another one?”

“No!”

“Okay, then.” Taylor chuckled.

“I mean,” Lucas said, “I could handle it, you know? I could, believe me,” he insisted. He really did not want his father to think he was too much of a wimp to handle drinking something only because it did not taste great. “I just don’t want to because…” He paused for a second. “I want to save it for later.”

“If you say so…” Taylor took the cup and put it and the bottle into his bag. Afterwards, the commander leaned back. He eyed his son. The boy had been sitting in that chair for about an hour by then. While he had promised the kid two, he figured one was enough to get at once. “Hey, can I suggest something?” Taylor spoke up. “I know you still have an hour in my chair left, but how about you get it some other time? We could go walk through the rest of the colony now. I don’t know if I’ll get called away again later, and I was kind of hoping to get that done today.”

“Sure.” Lucas gave a nod. Immediately, his feet were down on the floor.

“Really?” Taylor asked while Lucas stood up. “You don’t mind?” He had not expected his son to agree so readily.

“To be honest with you,” the boy said as he stretched his body, “I was sitting in the same position for so long, it was starting to get uncomfortable.”

Taylor laughed at that. Lucas frowned once again.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

They were walking through a part of Terra Nova which was surrounded by the wooden fence yet contained nothing but trees. His father insisted on showing him the entire colony, even the parts where nothing had been built yet. It was like walking through the jungle, except he knew he was (supposed to be) safe.

“Dad?” Lucas spoke up as they walked, prompting Taylor to look at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Was it hard? Staying in the jungle on your own?” Lucas inquired. Taylor gave him a look, and Lucas added, “I mean, obviously, it must have been hard, but… I, I guess I’m trying to ask how hard it was. It’s just…” He paused, trying to find the right words. His father waited for him to finish the thought. “Well, you see, when they first told me what happened with the portal—that it malfunctioned when you walked through it and… Honestly, my first thought was: ‘He must be dead now.’ I mean, four months. That’s insane! The idea that you would survive out there, with all the dinosaurs and everything, all alone, for so long… It seemed impossible. But you survived.”

Taylor nodded. “I know what you mean,” he said. “If I had been in your place and heard this happened to somebody, I wouldn’t have thought they could have made it, either. Even now, having gone through it myself, I wouldn’t find it likely. It was a tough experience.”

“Yeah, but… you seem pretty okay now,” Lucas replied. “You’re still alive. You don’t even seem scarred by that. And I don’t mean just physical scars. I mean, you seem so happy here, like you really love this place. One would think you’d hate it here after what you went through.”

“Why would I hate it here? It’s not like it was Terra Nova’s fault I got stuck here alone.”

Lucas considered saying that Taylor clearly did not have a problem with hating people for things that were not their fault, but he decided to stay on topic. “So how hard was it?”

Taylor took in a breath. “Some days were… really hard. Some days were more or less okay,” he replied. “You know, it’s funny, most people think the hardest part about living out there was fighting off dinosaurs, but honestly? The worst part was being alone all the time.”

“Being alone?” Lucas questioned. “That doesn’t sound dangerous.”

“It wasn’t ‘dangerous’ per se; it was just hard to handle,” Taylor told him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying living among dinosaurs wasn’t hard. It was. But it was more of a… occasional hardship. Every now and then, I’d have a really big problem, but most of the time, I managed to steer clear of them. But the isolation? That was constant. I couldn’t hide from that.”

“Yeah, but still,” Lucas said, “it’s just being alone… I’m not saying it sounds like fun, but it doesn’t seem that bad.”

“Actually, in some ways, I’d go as far as to say it was good for me,” the father claimed. “It gave me a lot of time to think, you know? About life, about what’s important and what’s not.”

“Really?” The boy chuckled. “You never struck me as the philosophical type.”

“Well, there are only so many things you can think about when you’re alone,” Taylor said, chuckling as well. “To be honest, sometimes I kind of want to go back there. Not for long, just for a day or two. Maybe even a week. Like on a vacation, to take a break, clear my head. It really helped me figure things out. On the other hand, being alone for long 118 days… That felt awful. Never being able to talk to anyone, not even see anyone… It’s not easy to be isolated for such a long time. It’s not easy at all. Frankly, there were days I worried I’d go crazy from the loneliness.”

Lucas was surprised to hear that. Taylor had never struck him as all that social, either. Sure, the man had friends, but they were only the people he knew from work. In fact, he barely spent any time with them outside of work. Lucas had not realized those people were so important to his father. “If you say so…” Besides, he still found it hard to believe that loneliness could be more difficult to deal with than the threat of becoming dino-food. After all, he had been lonely ever since his mother had died, and he was still alive nearly five years later. He did not think he would survive five years among dinosaurs. Shaking off that thought, Lucas spoke up, “So, Aristotle…” He chuckled to himself. “Amuse me: what is most important in life?”

A little smile appeared on Taylor’s face. “Family,” he answered.

“Ha!” Lucas laughed, and his father’s smile suddenly turned into a frown. “Come on!” the youth said. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

Taylor blinked. “What, you don’t think family’s important?”

“I’m not saying I don’t think so. I’m saying I don’t believe that you think so,” Lucas clarified, his voice gaining a mere hint of bitterness.

“Oh, you think family doesn’t matter to me?”

Lucas shrugged and nodded at the same time.

Taylor snorted. “Why do you think I wanted you to come here, genius?”

“Because if I had stayed in 2143, you wouldn’t be able to get on my nerves?” His father shook his head while Lucas chuckled.

“Let’s be honest,” Taylor replied, “that’s probably the reason you came here.”

Lucas smirked. His father was not far from the truth. Not far at all.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

They went around the whole colony. Taylor told Lucas not only about the places that were already there, but also about pretty much everything that was planned. Lucas wondered how many of those plans would come about before his employers would pillage the planet. He hoped it would not be a lot. The smaller the colony was, the easier it would be to defeat it.

Eventually, their walk led them back to where they had started—their house. “And, as you already know,” Taylor said, nodding towards the yellow building, “this is your new home.”

‘Home.’ It felt strange to hear his father say that. Not so much because it was new, but because he knew it would not last. Because he knew he could not want it to last. He had to hate it, did he not? A place he hated could not be considered ‘home.’

“Hey, I have an idea,” Taylor spoke up.

The young man looked at him, noting the father had a smile on his face. “What?”

“Why don’t we take a picture here?” Taylor suggested.

“A picture?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s take a photo in front of the house. Our first picture together in Terra Nova.”

Lucas considered it for a second, then shook his head. “I don’t want to take a picture.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like taking pictures,” Lucas claimed.

Taylor wrinkled his brows. “Since when?”

“Since you want to be in the picture, too.” After all, wouldn’t his handsome face fade in comparison with his father’s ugliness? He mentally laughed at the thought.

“Oh, come on! Just one photo, that won’t kill you,” Taylor insisted. He looked into the bag he was carrying and starting rummaging in it as he spoke, “Years from now, we can look at it and remember the early days of the colony and the time you arrived and how nice that all was.”

‘Nice’? Lucas had spent his first day feeling so sick he ended up vomiting, and Taylor still called it ‘nice’?

Finally, the father found what he was looking for. He pulled out a small, flat device with a tiny camera installed in it. He looked up at his son. “Let’s do this.” The man put his left arm around Lucas’s waist and pulled him in front of the house’s main entrance. Lucas groaned, but Taylor ignored that. Keeping his arm around the boy, he stood next to him. He raised his right hand, extending it before them. A screen on the device showed a preview of the picture they were about to take. They were standing a little too close in Lucas’s opinion (he would have preferred standing at least five feet apart), but he did not comment on that. Taylor smiled for the camera and got ready to capture the moment.

Realizing his father was not going to relent, Lucas complied and looked at the camera as well. The expression on his face, however, remained displeased.

“Come on, smile!” Taylor urged.

He did not feel like smiling, not in the slightest. Nevertheless, he wanted to get it over with, and so he forced a smile as bright and toothy as he could manage.

One second later, a quiet click was heard. Taylor lowered his hand. “There we go,” he said to himself. He tapped the device’s screen, and the image he had just taken reappeared. “Aw, look at us.” He chuckled, showing his son the photo.

It was an ordinary picture of two men, one young, at the mere beginning of adulthood, one older, with white hair to prove his years of wisdom. They were standing close next to each other, smiling at the camera. It looked sweet, actually. There was nothing in the picture to suggest it was fake. If it had been a photo of anybody else, Lucas would have been fooled into thinking the relationship between the two men was warm and loving. Into thinking the two led happy lives. ‘If only…’

“Isn’t it nice?” Taylor said, admiring the photograph. “You have such a pretty smile there.” It was not a smirk, it was not a grin of gloating amusement. The smile in the picture, while feigned, looked like a genuine smile of happiness. It was a beautiful sight in Taylor’s opinion. Not only because it meant his child was happy—a father’s greatest dream—, but also for the resemblance he bore to his mother. Taylor could always see Ayani’s features on Lucas’s face (to a certain extent, anyway), but nothing made it as obvious as the smile. “You should smile like that more often.”

“Oh, I smile plenty often,” Lucas claimed. “Just not when you’re around ’cause…” His voice trailed off. The boy gazed aside as if he was lost in thought. “You know, it’s strange,” he said, sounding confused in spite of the fact he was anything but, “I never feel like smiling when we’re together for some reason…”

Taylor narrowed his eyes, prompting Lucas to grin—not a happy grin, but a mocking one. The commander sighed. “Anyway…” He turned off the device and put it into his bag. “So now that we’ve finished our walk,” he said, looking up at his son, “what do you think of the colony?”

Lucas took in a breath. “Well,” he answered, “it’s no Chicago.”

Upon hearing that, Taylor furrowed his brows. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.” Lucas shrugged. “Oh, please!” the commander replied, frowning. “That place is filthy; this world is pristine. Don’t tell me you’d rather live there.”

“I’m not saying that,” Lucas responded. “I’m just saying this place could use some work.”

“Believe me, people are working hard on it every day.”

Lucas did not find that hard to believe. If he were being honest with himself, the colony was bigger and built better than he had expected. For a place that had been founded mere five months earlier, he could see the beginning of a real town there. While impressive on the one hand (plus, he had to admit—the more advanced his new ‘home,’ the more comfortable his stay, however short), he was not glad there were such capable, industrious people.

“You know,” Commander Taylor spoke up, “there is one more place I want to take you to. And when we’re there, I promise you’ll see how great the colony is.”

“What place?”

Instead of answering, the corners of Taylor’s lips turned upwards. “It’s a surprise,” he said.

Lucas blinked. The look on his father’s face seemed rather sly. When he considered what a crazy place he had come to, the smile made Lucas feel a little nervous. “Seriously, where do you want to take me?” he asked again.

“Uh-uh. I’m not telling you,” Taylor insisted. “You’ll have to come with me and see for yourself.”

Lucas sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Can you at least tell me how long it’s going to take?”

“Not more than an hour.”

“An hour?” The boy thought about it for a moment, then said, “Okay, but I’m going to need to use the bathroom first.”

Upon hearing that, Taylor’s gaze narrowed. “You’re not sick again, are you?” he said, looking his son up and down. After all, the last time Lucas had announced he needed to use said room, he had gone there to puke.

“No,” Lucas assured him, “I just need to pee.”

“Okay, then.” Pleased to know that, Taylor nodded towards the house. “Go on.”

Lucas opened the front door and headed for the bathroom at the back of the house. In the meantime, Taylor walked into the kitchen. He put his bag onto the counter, then poured himself a glass of water.

A minute later, Lucas returned—with his right arm over his left shoulder. He glared at his father, eyes angry enough to kill. “Oh, no,” Taylor said when he took in what his son was doing. “Are you scratching again?”

“Yeah,” Lucas confirmed, scowling.

“I thought it stopped itching.” After all, Lucas had not scratched the whole time they were at his office. Nor while going around the colony. He had not even squirmed like he had while they had been watching the brachiosaurs.

“It did stop,” Lucas grumbled as he scratched his shoulder blade. “I don’t know. I guess when I was sitting there, I was thinking about other things…” He switched his hands, but the attempt was as futile as all his previous ones. “Then you asked me if I was sick again, and it got me thinking about how I was sick before and how I had the leech and how itchy it was, and suddenly it started itching again. This is your fault!”

Taylor gave a shrug. “Well, just stop thinking about it again.”

“I wish I could…” Lucas tried extending his arm as much as he could. His shoulder made a cracking sound, but he did not scratch his intended target.

“Your shoulder is cracking again.”

“I can hear,” Lucas all but snapped.

“Then stop scratching! You know you can’t reach the spot, anyway.” Lucas stopped, only to glare at his father, then resumed the desperate activity. His shoulder cracked once more. Taylor shook his head. “Lucas!” The son paused, looking at him. “Enough,” Taylor said. “Listen, when I take you to the place I want to take you to, I’m sure you’ll forget all about your itch.”

The young man frowned as his attempts to scratch proved to remain unsuccessful. He let his arm drop. “I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am,” Taylor said, sending the boy a little smile. Lucas began to walk towards the door, but Taylor stopped him. “Actually, you know what?” he spoke up. “I think I’m going to relieve myself, too.” Lucas nodded, then proceeded to scratch himself again. Why he was still trying was beyond Taylor’s comprehension; then again, Lucas had always been stubborn. Deciding not to comment on it further, Taylor reached for his bag. “Before I go…” The man took out the bottle of milk. When Lucas saw it, he could not help but groan. Taylor chuckled, then poured his son a glass and set it down onto the counter. “Enjoy.” Finally, he went to the bathroom.

Before his father could walk in, Lucas spoke up, “Dad?”

“What?” the man asked, looking back at his son.

“This might be wrong, but… Do you think it could be the gauze?”

“The itching?” Taylor questioned.

“Yeah,” Lucas replied, nodding. “I mean, I don’t know what it’s made of, but it’s not the same as my shirt. Do you think it could be the fabric?”

“Well, I don’t know, but…” Taylor shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s probably just the wound healing.”

“I don’t know.” Lucas sighed. He tried to scratch himself with his left hand again. “Could you take it off?”

“I don’t know if that’s—”

“Just in case,” Lucas cut in. “It might not help, but maybe it will, you never know.”

Taylor flattened his lips for a moment. “Did the doctor say how long you should have it there?” he asked.

“Well, she only put it there because it was still bleeding a little. I’m sure it’s fine by now.”

Taylor walked toward his son. “Let me see.” Lucas turned around, lifting his shirt. There was a square of white gauze between the lower part of his shoulder blades, taped to his skin from top and bottom. The father took hold of the right edge of the upper tape and started peeling it off. Slowly, carefully, making sure not to disturb the bottom tape. Once the top was separated from Lucas’s skin, he took a look at the wound underneath. He frowned. “You’ve got a pretty big scab there,” he said.

“Is it bleeding?” Lucas asked.

“No, it doesn’t seem to be anymore.” After those words, he pulled off the bottom tape—fast. Lucas flinched. Given how gently his father had peeled of the top, he had not expected the sudden pain. Taylor heard Lucas let out a small gasp, and he could not help but chuckle at him. Lucas scowled. He pulled his shirt back down while Taylor threw the gauze in the trash. “Is the itching any better?” the man asked, looking up at his son.

Lucas shook his head. “No, it’s not,” he grumbled. He started to scratch himself once again. “It’s itching like crazy!”

“I told you it wasn’t the gauze,” Taylor replied, shrugging.

Lucas sighed. He was anything but happy about his father being right. “Just go to the bathroom… or whatever it is you wanted to do.”

Taylor turned around, walking towards the room in question. “And stop scratching already!” he ordered, looking at Lucas over his shoulder. “You know we agreed you’d only get two hours in my chair if you wouldn’t scratch.”

Lucas sighed again, but he lowered his hand, anyway. Taylor gave a nod, then went to the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind his father, Lucas began scratching his shoulder blade. The spot that itched, however, remained untouched.

He stopped a few seconds later. The boy shook his head. ‘This is useless,’ he thought, leaning against the kitchen counter. ‘I’ll never reach the spot on my own.’ Suddenly, he got an idea. What if he did not reach it on his own? What if he had help? Not his father’s help, of course; the man had made it clear he would leave Lucas to twist in the wind. But what if he had the help of an instrument? If he could not reach it on his own, perhaps he could find something around—a long, sharp object, preferably—to scratch himself with.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

Commander Taylor walked out of the bathroom, only to hear Lucas utter a bathroom-related word. “Sheet,” Lucas said under his breath while staring at his right hand.

“Hey!” Lucas nearly flinched as he looked up at him. He lowered his hand, shielding it from Taylor’s view behind the counter. “Watch your tongue!” the father said.

“Sorry,” Lucas apologized.

Taylor went closer to the boy, eying him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lucas quickly replied. “Doesn’t matter. Would you excuse me for just a second?” Sending his father a polite smile, he started to walk towards the bathroom.

The commander furrowed his brows. “Where are you going?”

“I need to pee,” Lucas claimed, not stopping in his tracks.

Taylor blinked. “You did that five minutes ago,” he said.

Lucas had reached the door by then. He opened it but did not walk in. Instead, he looked at his father and told him, “Yes, but then I drank the glass of milk, so now I have to go again.”

Lucas stepped into the small room while Taylor looked at the counter. The glass was standing at the same spot as before—and what more than that, not a single drop of milk was missing. “But the glass is still full.”

“No, it’s not,” Lucas called out from the bathroom, then closed the door.

Taylor looked at the glass once again. Unless he had gone mad and his eyes were deceiving him, it was full to the brim. He looked at the bathroom door, then back at the glass and back at the door. One thing he was sure of: Lucas had not gone to pee. He went over there. Not bothering to knock, he opened the door. He found Lucas crouching in front of the sink. The doors of the cabinet underneath it were open; he must have been searching it. However, as soon as he heard the bathroom door open, Lucas’s eyes shot up to his father. The youth scowled. “Excuse me!” he said. “Can’t I get some privacy? This is the bathroom.”

As he looked at him, Taylor noticed something concerning on Lucas’s hand—blood. A small amount of it, to be fair, but even that was more than there should have been. “What happened to your hand?” He bended over and tried to take hold of it to have a closer look, but the boy pulled away. “What—”

“Okay, just,” he cut in, looking up at his father, “just promise you won’t get mad.”

Taylor furrowed his brows. If his son was asking him not to get mad, that probably meant he would, in fact, get mad. However, he could see in Lucas’s eyes (the kid was staring hard at him—why was he not blinking again?) that he would not get an answer unless he complied. “I promise.”

Lucas studied his father’s face. He knew the man had broken similar promises in the past. Then again, he seemed to be in a good mood that day; perhaps he would not be angry. Lucas blinked and heaved a sigh. “My hand’s fine. I wiped that off my back,” he admitted. He got up from his crouch, getting on the same level as the commander. “I think I may have—accidentally, mind you…” Lucas paused for two seconds. Taylor raised his eyebrows, already suspecting how the sentence would end. “…scratched off the scab.”

“What?” Taylor replied, even though Lucas had said exactly what he had expected.

“I don’t know. I can’t see it, but—”

“Let me see.” Taylor went behind Lucas and lifted his shirt up. Sure enough, red was trickling down from the spot where the leech had bitten him.

Lucas tried turning his head back, but he did not manage to see the condition of the scab. “Is it off?”

“Mostly,” the old man confirmed. “It’s hanging there by one edge, but it’s not covering the wound.”

“Damn,” Lucas muttered while Taylor let go of the shirt. The boy crouched again, looking into the open cabinet.“Hey, where is the healing spray?” he asked. “Do we not have it?”

“Top shelf, in the back, but…” Taylor took in a breath. “Son, I think you might better go back to the infirmary.”

“What?” Lucas glanced up at him, then shook his head. He looked back into the cabinet. “No. Come on, it’s not that bad, is it?”

“Well, I don’t know how deep the leech bit you, but didn’t you say the doctor rubbed some ointment on the wound to help it heal?”

“So?”

“Don’t you think you might need the ointment again since you re-opened the wound? If the spray had been enough, she could have just sprayed it in the first place,” Taylor said.

“I’m sure the spray is enough. Ah, here,” Lucas said as he found what he was looking for. He took out a small, gray bottle of medical spray. He stood up straight and held it out to his father. “Can you spray it?”

“No.”

“Dad—”

“But I can take you to the infirmary.”

He did not want to go back there. Especially not with his father. The doctor would surely lecture him for scratching the wound. Then his father would find out he had lied about scratching being allowed. And then his father would scold him, too. He was hoping to avoid all that. Lucas shook his head. “I really don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Well, I really…” Taylor paused. “Actually, I don’t know if it’s necessary, but I’m not taking any chances.” He snatched the spray from Lucas’s hand and placed it onto the sink’s edge. “We’re going.” After those words, he headed out of the bathroom and to the front door.

Lucas took in a deep breath. His eyes traveled up towards the ceiling as he mentally asked higher powers he did not believe in for mercy. Afterwards, he followed his father.

Taylor was already at the door, but when he reached for the handle, he stopped. He turned around and looked back at Lucas, his eyes as narrow as his mind (at least where his son was concerned, or so Lucas thought). “How did this happen, anyway?” the man asked. “I thought you couldn’t reach the spot.”

“I couldn’t,” Lucas replied. “Not with my hands, anyway…”

“Oh. What did you scratch with?”

Lucas shrugged. “Just… something I found nearby.”

It was at that moment that Taylor’s eyes landed on the kitchen counter Lucas was standing next to. The answer was lying right there in plain sight. Taylor’s narrow eyes suddenly widened. “A knife?” he questioned incredulously. Lucas shrugged again. “Are you kidding me? You scratched a scab on your back with a knife? Of course you scratched it off! What were you thinking?!”

Lucas frowned. He had known his father’s promise not to get angry would be broken. “I wasn’t thinking. I was itching,” he grumbled.

Taylor shook his head, then opened the door. “Come on, you genius,” he said and proceeded to walk out.

Lucas stayed behind for a moment, fuming. His frown turned into a scowl. ‘Genius.’ Good god, he hated it when his father used that word ironically! He went after his father, but he slammed the front door shut when he left the house. Taylor did not seem to notice that.

After a few seconds, Lucas caught up to the old man. Together, they walked in the direction of the infirmary. Once again, Commander Taylor shook his head. “I told you to stop scratching,” he muttered. “I told you, but you just wouldn’t listen…”

The son sighed. “In my defense,” he spoke up, “the wound’s not itching anymore, so, you know… At least it worked. That’s a good thing, right?” Taylor sent him a glare. “Okay, I’ll shut up now,” Lucas concluded, looking away.

He walked the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived in front of the building that was the infirmary, Taylor held the door open for him. He took in a deep breath, then stepped inside.

Oh, he really hoped the doctor would not scold him…

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

“Come on, I told you not to scratch the wound.”

Damn it! The doctor’s tone sounded awfully similar to the one his father would use when admonishing him. Lucas frowned.

When Taylor heard what she said, Lucas’s ‘I’m sure it’s fine’ came back to mind. The father gave his son a look.

Lucas shrugged. “I forgot.” Taylor shook his head, seeing through the lie.

The doctor sighed, then said she was going to get more ointment.

(_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_)

“There we go,” the doctor said after cleaning the blood and applying the ointment. “But no scratching this time, all right? Just leave it be for the day. It’ll stop itching in a few hours. Okay?”

“O-kay,” Lucas uttered. What, did she think he was an idiot? That he had not learned his lesson? That he was too weak to control himself? He barely knew her (he did not even remember her name, in spite of the fact she had introduced herself to them when they had first arrived), but he already disliked her.

She stepped over to a nearby table, where she took some tape and a piece of gauze. As she was about to cover the wound, Commander Taylor stopped her. “Actually, you know what?” he spoke up. “I was thinking, do you have anything around here that could help relieve the itching? Another ointment or something?”

Lucas’s eyes snapped to his father.

“I can take a loo—”

“I don’t need another ointment,” Lucas interrupted her, glaring at his father. What, did great Commander think he was weak, too? Of course he did. In fact, he had held that opinion for as long as Lucas could remember. It gleamed in his eyes whenever he looked at his son.

“If you didn’t need it,” Taylor told him, “we wouldn’t be here right now.”

And there he had it. The look was confirmed by his words (not that it was necessary). Lucas scowled. “That’s not true!” he argued, telling it to himself as much as he was telling it to his father.

The doctor looked at him, then at Taylor. Taking a step forward, she said, “I will go—”

“Hang on!” Lucas stopped her. “I don’t want any ointment or anything else for the itching. I can handle it.”

Taylor eyed him, clearly not of the same belief. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

In spite of Lucas’s wish, the doctor still looked at Taylor to see if she should go get something for the itching or not. Apparently, it did not matter to her that he was an adult, that he was in charge of himself. In the doctor’s eyes, the great, greatest Commander Taylor ruled everyone. He really disliked her.

Taylor just shrugged when she looked at him, and so she proceeded to tape the square of white to his back. Before letting him go, she reminded him one more time not to scratch the wound. Lucas bit his lip. Hard. His nostril flared a bit, but he did not say anything in response. A part of him wanted to snap at her; however, he figured it would be best not to make enemies just yet. (Sure, he had to consider everyone there an enemy, but he did not want to be considered an enemy himself. He had to keep up appearances until he finished his job.) Instead, he decided to leave. He quickly put on his shirt, practically jumped off the bed and headed straight for the main exit without bothering to say goodbye.

Taylor followed him, wondering why it was that Lucas was walking so quickly.

Once they were outside the building, Taylor spoke up, “So are you ready for our trip?”

Lucas groaned.

“Well, gee, don’t be too excited.”

“Do we have to go now?” Lucas asked. “It’s been a long day.”

Taylor furrowed his brows. “It’s only afternoon. And you slept for almost twelve hours last night,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Lucas sighed. “I’m fine,” he lied.

“You don’t look fine.”

‘Oh, what do you know?’ Lucas thought in annoyance. Since when did his father not fall for the ‘I’m fine’ reassurance? True, he had not said it very convincingly, but he had not thought it would be necessary.

“What’s going on, son?” Taylor asked.

Lucas shook his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he replied. Taylor raised his eyebrows, tilting his head a little. Lucas stuck his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight on his feet. “Look,” he said, briefly glancing at the ground, “I’m… not in the best mood right now.”

“Is the wound itching again?”

“Not yet.” Thank god.

“Then why are you in a bad mood?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Lucas took in a breath, glancing away again. “Sometimes moods just happen, you know?”

Taylor heaved a sigh, then decided not to question his son any further. He suspected the mood was not random (although he was not sure of its cause), but if Lucas wanted to keep it to himself, he would not force him to do otherwise. “Well, trust me,” the father said, “the place I want to take you to will make your mood a lot better. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood there.”

‘I don’t think a place like that exists…’ “Let’s go, then,” Lucas said, forcing a smile. Taylor returned it with one that seemed a lot more genuine. After giving a nod, the commander started walking. Lucas followed him. “So where is it we’re going?” the boy inquired.

“First, we’re going for a car,” Taylor said. “We’re going to drive there.”

Drive? Was the place in the jungle? That did not seem safe. Then again, his father probably knew better if it was safe or not. Unless his father was taking him there to kill him… Geez, why did that thought occur to him again? Mentally shrugging it off, Lucas spoke up, “And we’ll be back in about an hour, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” Taylor confirmed.

Lucas gave a nod. “Can I get the second hour in your chair as soon as we come back?” he asked. He was not sure why, but sitting behind the dino-desk had felt empowering. He figured he needed that.

“Oh, you’re not getting the second hour,” Taylor said—rather nonchalantly, Lucas was disappointed to note.

As soon as he heard what his father said, Lucas stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

Taylor came to a halt as well. He looked at his son and sighed. “I’m sorry, but that was meant to be a reward. You didn’t earn it.”

Lucas glared at him, but when Taylor returned the stare, his gaze softened. “But you promised,” the boy all but whined.

“The agreement was you’d only get two hours if you stopped scratching,” Taylor countered. “Which you clearly didn’t do.”

“But I—”

“Commander!” a familiar male voice interrupted their conversation. Upon turning his head in its direction, Lucas found Lieutenant Guzman rushing to them.

Commander Taylor took a few steps toward him. “Guz, what is it?” he asked.

When Guzman reached him, he explained the situation to Taylor. Lucas did not catch the whole conversation (partly because they were not standing right next to him and were using more-or-less quiet voices, partly because he just did not care enough to listen and so let his mind wander), but he overheard a mention of Washington and the barracks. Based on the little information he had, Lucas guessed his father would need to leave.

After a minute, Taylor and Guzman exchanged nods. While the latter began walking away, the former came back to Lucas. “I knew I would get called away again,” Taylor said, more to himself than to Lucas.

It appeared Lucas’s guess had been correct.

“Listen, I have to go now, but I’ll be back within half an hour. We’re going to go as soon as I come for you, okay?”

Lucas shrugged. “I guess…”

“Go back to the house and wait for me there. This won’t take long, I promise.”

Ah, another promise Lucas was sure would be broken.

He did not mind, though. In fact, he was glad to have some time away from his father. He needed a break from the old man’s presence. After he gave his father a nod, the commander left, and Lucas went back to his new house.

((Continue here))