Un-Normal

There was the sound of screams, the crashing of glass and steel, the gurgling noise of blood boiling in the back of a throat, and the hands gripping flesh that threatened to tear away. Sirens blanketed an area filled with acrid air. The taste of concrete dust, smoke, and iron filling both nose and mouth.

Someone, a man I think, panicked tried to comfort me says repeatedly, “You are going to be ok. You are going to be ok.”

Was that for his own sake or mine. I can’t remember. It was all varying degrees of pain. Burning, throbbing, and electrifying. Pressure and numbness. Confusion, so much confusion. My head felt weird, pounding, and stuffy. There was suffocation and drowning both at the same time and then rough hands holding my head back as a tube was being pushed down my throat. Then finally darkness and the fading yells of, “I don’t have a pulse.”

At least the agony ended for a time.

I sat up in my truck and stared at the face in the mirror looking back at me. It wasn’t familiar and hadn’t been familiar for some time. Scars and pits blanketed my cheeks, an eye drooped like a candle just beginning to melt, the bottom lip hung too low to be called normal, and the forehead stretched much too high with a resemblance of someone who had been scalped. The face staring back at me was that of a stranger.

A white rage boiled up and I pounded the seat and dashboard around me before I was able to calm myself and take a breath. The head injury changed me. I had been so nice before. So, damn nice. That is what everyone said and now… Well, where the hell were they when I needed them the most?

I slam the door doing my best not to remember. Trying to forget my wife meeting me at the office with a pregnancy kit. My children playing in the downstairs lobby. Doing my best not to recall one of the happiest moments of my life turning into the worst. And every single day I fail.

The explosion of glass and fire engulfs both hair and smile. It is frozen in time and in my mind. That brief nanosecond of her being there before being there no longer. My children, who were laughing and playing a second before, become fragments of flesh that require DNA testing from mangled toys that were once in their hands.

I mumble to myself and curse at the world as I limp to the tailgate. My fists clench as a rolling bout of electricity begins in the lower portion of my spine, down the back left of my thigh, and to the bottom of my big toe. Once it is gone, I take a deep breath. I refuse the pain medications. The ones that stifle what is left of my brain and leave me tied to a chair drooling and unable to comprehend.

Grabbing the backpack, I slip it on and tighten the straps. The pack is heavy and bulky and the weight of it pushes down on tightened flesh that needs constant lotion to keep from cracking and breaking apart. The cool mountain air seems refreshing and brisk. It soothes the rolling torment within me and silences the buzzing caldron of a multi-year rage. In the distance the squirrels are bickering and birds singing. Here, I am home.

The first part of the day is a winding elevation climb of evergreen trees and bubbling brooks and creeks of evanescent blues. I take my time, resting my feet in cool waters, and enjoying the feeling of pushing myself to ever greater heights. A multitude of people have already come and passed. They all try not to stare but the spectacle of destruction branded on my face is one that cannot help but to elicit shocked glances and pity.

I used to love people, loved being around them, socializing and gathering, and now I can’t stand to be around a single one.

Eventually, I cross over a ridge and in front of me spreads the bright glacier hue of a lake. The lake is famous for where it sits and the challenge it presents to those seeking beauty for a day. My destination lies beyond though. A three thousand elevation climb up a mountain face to get over a ridge and into a place of wonder and magic unlike what most will ever see. It is a scramble of will and endurance over granite stones, some taller than a small house, all the way to the top.

After resting and taking time to eat, I continue on. The path goes through a floor built of towering boulders that stretch from the edge of the lake up into the Dragon Tail Mountain. The only way is through. With patience and care, I take my time leaping, jumping, and climbing across. An accident here could end up with a helicopter ride. Even being careful, I fell twice, scraping my knee once, but made it over with little incident.

I am now faced with the climb. It has been a time since I faced it. It is awe inspiring, intimidating, and glorious in its own singular way. Down the ways on the beach, I hear a man yelling at another. The test of Asgard isn’t for some it seems. Before heading out, I decide to head down and fill up my bottle and water pack but instead of the sand filled shore I am greeted with a multitude of rocks leading all the way out into the bright glacier blue of water. There was a beach to rest and sleep on the last time I was here. I am positive on that or maybe it’s my mind. No worries, I’m able to delicately reach out and fill up both of the items before climbing back up to the trail.

It is a test for me at this portion of the hike. A brutal scramble of a climb over boulders that doesn’t let up. When you believe you are close to the end it all proves to be a false front where the true peak is an additional three-hundred-feet climb to the top. Each break I take will offer stunning views of Colchuck Lake below and with the clear sky above it will be borderline mystical.

I take a deep breath and begin to prepare myself mentally for the three-hour journey to the heavens as a young woman moves up and closer to my side. She stares at me, and I find it rude. I’m preparing to launch into a tirade when she says, “I just wanted to let you know you shouldn’t go that way. The waterfall is up on that side and could be dangerous. You will want to stay more towards the right when you can and not the left.” She smiles a moment, pats my shoulder, and then takes off with more than a dozen others heading on a guided path of stacked stones away from where I was about to go.

I look up and stare. She is right. The diamond shape of lush evergreen trees that are half way up is most definitely on the left side of the mountain. In its middle there will be the slippery slope of water and falls. Not overly dangerous but enough. Have I remembered it wrong? I could swear that these falls were on the right. Maybe the damage from the explosion has distorted my memories much worse than I believed. Yet, no. In my gut something feels off and wrong.

I shrug and follow the group up, stopping every quarter of a way to gaze down and stare over the valley below. The people climbing up are like ants scaling a hill starting from all sides and directions but quickly falling into a singular line. Spectacular.

Yet, the boulders stretching into the lake’s waters and the waterfall on the left side pluck at my mind. I feel a bit uneasy. Like a faint echo of a warning spreading out and calling for attention. Early in the days of my recovery I was seized with bouts of paranoia and fear for months at a time and the stress of the climb could be triggering remnants of it.

Soon, the false end is in sight. I hear cheers and congratulations and know that soon they will be filled with despair. It too is just a test of your endurance and mental strength. Once upon a time, I also had cheered and then groaned as reality collapsed upon me. It brings a smile to my face. I look forward to it this time and prepare myself for the last few hundred feet of climbing. Only, I have reached the precipice instead. The false front does not exist. Tranquil and Isolation Lake lie just below me. I turn looking back behind me. Colchuck is more like a distant bright aqua pond tussled in a blanket of ever expanding green. Perfection. I should feel satisfaction and completeness that cannot be described but inside something breaks and screams.

Stumbling to the nearest rock, I loosen the backpack, let it drop, and grab my head. I can’t make sense of it. This wasn’t how I remembered it, and I do remember it. Climbing with my son, both of us celebrating and cheering. I had a wife nestled up to me on a coach. There were children chasing each other across the living room. My family was alive.

I groan and collapse on myself. This pain is both ancient and new. It is raw and tearing and the center of my chest becomes empty and profoundly cold. Tears stream down my eyes as I rock and moan.

All this damage is nothing compared to this. Why couldn’t they have just let me die? A portion of me wants to hunt down and slaughter the people who saved me.

I stand up and leave the backpack behind. It doesn’t matter. My mind doesn’t comprehend the bubbling brook or the white glaciers resting on mountain sides. The vibrant golden hues of Larch trees, wild grass, and muted pink flowers surrounding a Perfection Lake no longer leave me breathless. It was heavenly and unreal back then. Now, it doesn’t even register or process in my mind. What hits me is that the lake has come too fast and the sun is moving much too slowly overhead.

Words suddenly float in the air and the world shifts and comes to a halt. I look around at the windless air and the people frozen in time.

“He’s going to do it again. He’s headed for the cliff where he jumps every single time. What is this the sixtieth time?”

“Fifty-two actually,” a woman answers.

“Hello?” I scream.

“He knows,” the woman says.

“Alright, let’s bring him out,” a male voice says disappointed. “I don’t think it’s possible to keep the family.”

“But…”

“I know but it’s anchoring him. He’ll never heal, and the fragmentation is getting worse. The corporate board and governmental body were aware that this might be an eventuality.”

There was a moment of silence.

The man said, “I get it. I don’t want to do it either, but we have no choice. We keep going this way and we may end up with a mental hemorrhage. The family has to go.”

I feel yanked and stretched. The world twists and banks before it flattens and disappears. It is replaced with bright white lights that blind me. It takes a minute before the sterile room comes into focus. Around me, half a dozen people in white flutter around like butterflies. I pull on my arms and legs, but they are strapped tight and unmoving. I try to shift my head but can’t.

“What the hell is going on?” I scream.

One of the girls with long black hair moves to me and gently grabs my arm, “We are trying Mr. Knapp but your mind is resisting?”

“Resisting what?”

“The procedure, sir.”

“Procedure? What procedure?”

“The one you were signed for. We all figured there might be some complications, but you are more on the extreme end. We’ll get you through though. Promise. It just might take some time.”

“Wait… I don’t understand. What is going on?”

The girl looked over towards the stuffy man huddled in the back behind a number of electrical equipment.

“He’s fragmenting. Go ahead and tell him.” He waves his hand dismissively.

“After the terrorist attack you suffered several mental complications. Paranoid delusions, severe depression, bipolar condition, and an inability to control your anger. The loss of your family created a reality break to the point that your decision making was irrational. Therapy was minimally effective which led to a suicide attempt. You almost succeeded. The corporation was faltering without your expertise, and both were deemed by the World Governing Body to be essential and nonexpendable to the welfare. We have been mandated to bring you back to a healthy and functional state,” the woman says.

“Wait? What does that even mean?”

A small portion of her hair fell across her eyes as she stared down at him. Tears seemed to glisten at the corners of her eyes. “We are going to have to erase any memory of a family unfortunately. The attack on you and the facility will remain. We can’t erase that because of obvious reasons.” she explains.

“What? What do you mean you are going to erase my family?”

“Ready,” the guy in the back yelled.

“It’s time to say goodbye to them Mr. Knapp.”

“No, no you can’t do that. Stop. Let me go! I demand it.”

“OK, hold on sir,” she moved over and lifted what looked like a helmet connected with a large wire. “We are about to start.”

“Stop,” I scream as the helmet slips over my head and eyes. “Please stop,” I beg as the world goes to bright white, shifts, and blurs.

I sat up in my truck and stared at the face in the mirror looking back at me. It still held some scars and a few faint pockmarks around the left eye but overall, the doctors had worked an incredible magic. If you were to walk up to me on the streets, you wouldn’t even have known that I had survived a terrorist attack that was meant to overturn the entire world.

A man and his wife stroll past towards the information board. They wave their hand and I wave mine. The man looks a lot like I did when I was younger. Behind them wander and dance three little others. The older boy bounces and jumps while the girl runs up and grabs her mom’s hand. The youngest one stops and stares at me. He gently lifts up a hand and I lift up mine.

Once, I had wanted a family. I had dreamed of children of my own and a wife by my side. There had been a place in my heart for laughter and childhood screams but work and the world had taken up their demands. There was no room in it for grownup family dreams. So, I chose a single man’s life instead.

I get out and softly close the door before moving to the tailgate in the back. There I slip on the backpack and look up the evergreen trail that beckons to a trail of unimaginable beauty that lies on the border of what some would call fantasy. The Enchantments are a test of the body, but the hike also soothes spirit and soul. There is a certain kind of peace that comes to the mind in that rugged mountain space.

The family brush past me and the man apologizes. His wife looks familiar and for a moment she reminds me of a woman that I once may have known. The little child stops and stares at me one more time. A part of me inside yanks and pulls toward him but then the father yells, “Come on Timmy. Let’s go.” The little one touches my hand and then lifts his own as if to say good bye before running up the path.

I sigh and begin moving up the fairytale trail. A pathway of running sapphire creeks, golden trees, icicle lakes, and things that are hard to define. I take a few more steps and stop. My breath already sounding labored.

In my head, a voice keeps telling me it is time to move past the trauma of yesterday and embrace what will be tomorrow. There is conflict within the loneliness of my soul. The children’s laughter rings down and through the air. It reminds me of a life not lived and with it profound loss. Tears suddenly pour down from my eyes and I don’t know why.

After a minute, I wipe away the tears, take a deep breath, and begin to put one foot in front of the other. Maybe it isn’t too late to meet someone and build a life with them. Maybe it isn’t too late to start a family. Maybe one day I can have something like that…

And in my mind, something stirs, and I say, “Again.”