Lost and Bound: Book One of the Displaced Series

1

Luis

As Luis L’hopital opened his eyes they were assaulted with the flaring brightness of pure white. Above him were squares of white flecked with imperfections banded into perfect rows with white lines. The walls of the room he found himself in were smooth white, illuminated by bars of white light that hummed above his head. For a brief moment, he thought he was adrift in a void of white nothingness. 

A rhythmic noise, shrill and irritating pulsed in time with the blood that rushed through his aching head. He tried to move, but his arms felt heavier than they ever had through any of his battles or training he’d undergone. Looking down at himself, he found that he was covered in an itchy white blanket, his arms lying placidly on top where he could clearly see a white bracelet latched to his right wrist. Peering closer, Luis saw there was writing on the bracelet: J. Doe 26964. 

Something was wrong, the world was in chaos and Luis knew what to do at any time when he needed order restored to his life. Closing his pale blue eyes, Luis calmed his mind and reached out to his goddess, to Nike, herald of Victory, the name he invoked when charging into battle, whose strength was lent to him in times of need, whose calming touch allowed him to face down the beasts of hell without flinching. 

Whose presence he could no longer feel. 

Panic gripped his chest. Throughout the past decade he had never had his ties with Nike severed. She had always been there, proclaiming that victory would soon be at hand so long as his faith held. The irritating tone intensified and his head began to ache further. The air he sucked in was harsh and burned his throat with every breath. What evil had brought him here? He tried again to reach out with his senses, to breach the veil of what might be hidden with the power of the divine, but again the power eluded him, and again his breathing intensified along with the shrill noise. 

Easy there! A voice pierced through his panic. Luis looked up to see a woman enter the room, pulling back a white curtain that had hidden the door she entered through from his sight. She was wearing strange clothing, a white tunic and loose fitting pants that seem to be decorated with three strange monkeys repeating in different positions, but her green eyes were calm and offered reassurance. Luis found himself relaxing slightly as the woman came into view. 

She checked a couple of the strange devices Luis had barely taken notice of in his panic, brushing away one errant lock of blonde hair that had escaped the tail she had pulled it into. Luis tried to address the woman, but his voice came out in a harsh croak rather than actual words. 

You shouldn’t try to talk yet, the woman said, turning to a strange pink pitcher and cup that were sitting on a white table across the room. She poured what looked like water into the cup before putting a strange white stick into it. 

Here, she said, pressing the stick to Luis’ cracked and dry lips. Drink slowly, you don’t want to throw up.

After a few sputtering attempts, Luis realized the stick was hollow like a reed and drank readily from the cup. The water was cold, and amazingly had chunks of ice floating in it. He was curious as to how such a thing was possible, but the refreshment that came along with the drink soon drove such curiosities from his mind. After a moment he pulled back and the woman took the cup away. 

After clearing his throat, Luis attempted to speak again. 

Where the fuck are we?

There was a flicker of surprise on the woman’s face, but she returned to her calming demeanor a moment later. Luis was beginning to feel his strength return and guarded himself against her disarming persona. He wanted to be ready in case she were a foe. 

You are at St. Augustine’s, was the only answer she gave him, as if it should answer his question. Luis felt irritation rise in the back of his mind. 

Who the fuck is St. Augustine? Luis asked, his voice getting stronger. The woman looked at him strangely, but decided to answer as she started unhooking frail looking cords and pressing her foot against his bed, which made several loud clicking noises. The shrill noise stopped. 

He was a great religious figure, focused on spirituality and the Holy Trinity, though to be honest theology was not my area of study. Luis felt the bed beneath him begin to move and gripped the rails on either side of him tightly as he began to move. 

Where are we going? He asked, unable to keep a slight tinge of panic from his voice. 

You are scheduled for therapy with Dr. Courser, the woman said without answering anything. 

A large man stood in the doorway of Luis’ room. He was wide and strong looking, wearing clothing very similar to the woman’s, though without the monkey creatures on it. His dark hair was cropped short, much like Luis’ own light brown hair, and instantly Luis recognized the man as a member of one military or another. He felt his body tense, but saw the same comforting look in this man’s eyes as he’d seen in the woman, though there was a sense of apprehension hidden in the look as well. 

Need help getting this one into the chair, Emily? the man asked the woman Luis now assumed was named Emily.

"Thank you, Nurse Sanchez, Emily stated, emphasizing the title. And I’ll remind you in a professional setting, you need to refer to me as Nurse Corbit."

Right, I’ll remember that, Sanchez said in a voice that Luis believed that the man had no such intention. 

Sanchez flipped the blankets off of Luis’ lap and lowered one of the rails he was gripping. Slowly, Luis relaxed his grip, though he realized that he would not have had the strength to stop Sanchez from removing him if need be. The man quickly and easily lifted Luis bodily out of the bed and set him into a chair that had a large pair of wheels on either side of it. 

Nurse Emily Corbit began walking down the hallway in one direction as Sanchez began pushing Luis down the other way, the wheels silently carrying him through a blur of more white walls and ceilings only occasionally passing a brown wooden door. Finally, after a dizzying journey through maze-like passages, they stopped outside a white door with a long pane of glass set vertically above the handle. A small black box rested on the left-hand side of the door. Sanchez reached over with a small white square in his hand. The box beeped and Sanchez opened the door, wheeling Luis inside. 

Several other people were sitting within. Each, like him, was sitting in a chair with wheels and wearing the same paper-like clothing. All except for one woman who sat at the head of the room. She was wearing a long white coat over strange but seemingly formal attire. Her skin and hair were both dark, contrasting her sharp, light eyes. She held a bit of wood in her hand and seemed to be writing on it with a plume-less quill. A pair of spectacles rested on the bridge of her nose. 

Thank you, orderly, she said, gesturing at Sanchez, barely taking the time to look away from what she was doing. If you would, put him in the circle. And then you are dismissed. 

Sanchez nodded to her and pushed Luis to join in with the others. He looked around at those around him. 

Sitting closest to the dark skinned woman was an older man with a short grizzled beard of grey and black hairs. He sat placidly, his eyes half closed as if on the verge of taking a nap. Luis wasn't fooled. The old man was more dangerous than he let on, clearly to those who knew what to look for that he was taking in information and processing it. For what purposes, Luis did not know. 

To his left was a young woman with short brown hair and a band of freckles under her darting green eyes. She was fidgeting absentmindedly with the sleeve of her tunic, revealing hints of a tribal tattoo banding around her bicep. As he watched her, Luis got the impression of a captured animal seeking any means of escape. 

Beside her was a young man, about Luis’ age, sitting peacefully as if in meditation and with such stillness that Luis questioned if the man were still alive. Though the scars that cut white marks into the deep tan skin along his knuckles, wrists, and arms proved that death would have a hard time taking such a man. 

Finally, he met the grey eyes of the last one sitting in the circle. Long platinum hair spilled over this man’s tunic, though even with all that covered his skin, the number of twisting tattoos that crept from beneath would have been impossible to hide, even if he had any intention of doing so. There was a flicker of devotion in this man’s eyes that Luis felt a kinship with, but could not explain why. 

Luis turned his attention to the woman sitting at the front of the room. She sat with posture that indicated she was in complete control of her surroundings, and considering he had barely any control over his body currently, she must be the one behind his weakness. Staring at her, his eyes burning like embers, he decidedly broke the silence. 

If you are a witch, I will find out. His voice was strong, far stronger than it was when he first spoke to Emily in the white room. It drew the attention of everyone in the room and caused the woman to stop writing. 

She lowered her quill and turned to address Luis. 

I am not a witch. I am a medical professional, she said in a calm voice that further raised Luis’ irritation rather than abated it. My name is Dr. Mercedes Courser. I am the head psychologist here at St. Augustine. You are all here because each of you is suffering from delusions. We here just want to help you overcome these delusions, become well, and reenter society as fully functioning members. Why don’t we all go around and introduce ourselves and why we are here, like I did?

Dr. Courser’s eyes burned into Luis’, but he did not flinch. 

My name is Luis L’hopital, Luis stated proudly. And I have been sent out on a mission by my master. Beyond that, you need not know.

Master, Dr. Courser said cautiously. That is a strange word to use when depicting another person in your life. You do not need to ever refer to any one as your master, because in this world no one has mastery over you. You do understand that, don’t you?

It seems you are the one lacking understanding of what it is to have a master willing to take you in, Luis retorted. 

Perhaps, but we’ll get into that later on in our sessions. She turned her attention to the tan skinned man covered in scars sitting next to Luis. What about you?

Without opening his eyes, the man spoke, his voice carrying a hint of a brogue. My name is Thola Igerk Mue Moonflayer. 

Dr. Courser, who had been writing when the man started his response, paused. Uh… Excuse me?

Thola Igerk Mue Moonflayer, the man repeated. 

Could you spell that? Dr. Courser asked. 

The man sighed, opening his dark green eyes to look pointedly at the doctor. Just call me Timm.

Timm, Dr. Courser repeated with more confidence in her voice. We can work with that. And why are you here, Timm?

Damned if I know, Timm said, shrugging. Woke up here with this lot, didn’t I? Figured you’d be the one to tell me.

I suppose that’s to be expected. You all suffered from a bit of trauma that left your memories a bit… incomplete.

I remember just fine, piped up the older man, opening one eye. Ma damned kids are obnoxious little brats who ain’t got no respect for their elders. Stuck me in here saying I'm seeing things. 

Seeing things? What do you mean by that Franson? Dr. Courser asked. 

I told you not to call me that! The man barked. Call me Smithers or don’t call me at all. 

My apologies Mr. Smithers…

Just Smithers!

My apologies, Smithers, Dr. Courser said, her smile appearing forced and tired. What kind of things did you see?

I ain’t telling you, Smithers snorted. Last time I talked about it, they locked me in here with the crazies.

Dr. Courser clicked her tongue, Now Smithers, we don’t like to use that word here. Crazy is a very insensitive and over simplistic way of describing the plight of others. 

The boot fits, don’t it?

With a sigh, Dr. Courser turned her attention to the young woman. And what about you, dear?

Uh… Morgan. Betony. The woman stuttered slightly. My name is Morgan Betony. And… I'm kind of a medical person as well. I was out collecting herbs last I remember, then I was here.

Collecting herbs? Dr. Courser asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.  

Oh yes, Morgan’s voice lost some of its apprehension. There are many wonderful herbs for healing by my home. I was out collecting to create a salve for…

You know, modern medicine has come a long way, Dr. Courser cut her off. Those old world methods are dangerous and could actually cause more harm than good. You’d be better off allowing actual medical professionals, doctors such as myself, handle tending to the sick.

Luis watched as Morgan deflated slightly under the words of Dr. Courser and felt hot words fleck at the end of his tongue before the final person in the room cut him off. The man with platinum hair turned to Dr. Courser and spoke in a calm, clear voice. 

I'd never heard of doctors before, but I am a healer and found that herbs work quite well to aid in the process. I have healed the wounds of many in my time. 

And where did you study in order to gain the skill to heal? Dr. Courser asked him. 

The temple, the man replied plainly. My name is Lee Eraple, cleric and priest of Goibniu, God of the forge and hospitality. Perhaps you should study his teachings as well. 

Luis could not help but smile at the remark. It both brought this Dr. Courser down a peg or two, but also explained why Luis felt such kinship with Lee. It was good to see another holy man in these trying times, and if his order had taught him anything, it was that there was strength in numbers. 

Dr. Courser put on that strained smile again while facing Lee. Yes, it seems that we have been less that hospitable with some of you… 

We were drugged, Timm replied, for the first time letting irritation slip into his voice. I do not like when someone takes away my ability to use my body properly. 

You’ll find that it was necessary, Dr. Courser explained. With the trauma, confusion, and memory loss, some of you were more… violent… than others.

She turned her attention fully to Timm, It seems you left Orderly Sanchez with a black eye for weeks upon your admission to the hospital.

Timm cowed slightly at the remark, but before he was given another chance to speak, Dr. Courser changed the subject. 

Since we now all know a little more about one another, why don’t we get into today’s therapy session? Group therapy is a great way for us to understand how other people think and how we should best respond to different, and sometimes conflicting, ideas. I am going to ask you a series of questions, and I want each of you to respond with the answer you feel best reflects your point of view, do you all understand?

Luis understood, but he was feeling particularly contrary, so he merely folded his arms and nodded while the others murmured in the affirmative. 

Very good, Dr. Courser said. She shuffled through pages attached to the wood she was writing on and began. Under what circumstances do you feel it is acceptable to hurt another person?

Luis felt the answer leave his mouth before his mind could even formulate the answer. His time training at the temple had taught him the answer, If they are evil.

Lee nodded and answered as well, If they are trying to harm you.

Or someone else, Morgan piped up, but pulled back again a moment later. Or an animal, or something…

When your life is in danger, Timm stated plainly. 

I'm with them, Smithers agreed. When you got to defend yourself.

Very good, Dr. Courser said, Luis sensing only a slight bit of condescension in her voice. Let’s move on to question number two: Would you help someone whose life was in danger, regardless of who they were?

Yes, Luis answered with the same resolve as the last question, but locked eyes with Dr. Courser and added, then ask questions later.

Yes. Lee nodded again, but offered no further explanation. 

Depends on the situation, Timm shrugged. Were they harming others first? Were they put into this situation because of evil actions? It all depends.

Of course, Morgan stated, giving Timm a quick look. Lives should not be cut short unnecessarily.

Yeah, I suppose so, Smithers answered. 

Some conflicting opinions, but all in all seems like the consensus is still to help others, very good. Dr. Courser nodded as she continued making notes. Question three: What would you name a boat if you had one?

Luis felt his eyebrow creep up slightly. He did not have an immediate answer to this one, but his memory flashed back to a gentler time before the soldier’s life had taken him completely and heard his voice say, The Pink Corsage.

An interesting choice, Dr. Courser said, making note. 

Edwards, Lee responded, solemnly. After someone who died.

Nicolisa, Timm said, wincing slightly before looking at Lee. After… a relative.

Gotta be a boat? Smithers asked, a wicked grin under his graying beard. Had a tractor once named John.

The Tempest, Morgan said. 

Ah, a Shakespeare fan, I see, Dr. Courser said, making note on her papers. 

Morgan looked at her in confusion, Who’s Shakespeare?

Someone who shook a spear, Luis chimed in with a shrug. 

Ah, Morgan replied. 

Dr. Courser looked at them with confusion, but apparently decided this course of conversation was not worth pursuing. Next question then: What was the most foolish thing you’ve ever done that has caused yourself harm?

These questions, Timm said, leaning back in his chair slightly. Luis smiled at this and looked to Dr. Courser before she could fire back at Timm. 

Jousting with no armor, he said plainly. He knew that he had done this before, though as he tried to recount the memory, a sharp pain went through the back of his skull. 

Dr. Courser, who had been looking at Timm in aggravation, quickly turned her attention to Luis. Ah, I see, so you were a reenactor?

No, Luis replied. I am not an actor.

Confusion crept across Dr. Courser’s face, and Luis found himself reveling in it. As confusing as the world he found himself in, it seems that his own life confused this obnoxious woman just as much. However, before she could press further, Lee spoke up thoughtfully. 

I never really did anything to cause myself harm out of foolishness, he pondered. I suppose you could count the times I stood between another and harm. I did nothing in that instance, though I suppose doing nothing is as much an action as doing something.

Dr. Courser turned her attention from Luis to Lee, That’s a noble way to come to harm, though it’s never shameful to defend one’s self.

Nor is it shameful not to, Lee responded. 

The room was silent for a moment, as tension seemed to grow between Lee and Dr. Courser. Morgan then broke the silence as she suddenly seemed to think of her own answer. 

Oh! Well there was this one time when I was talking to this bear… she started to explain. 

All eyes in the room turned to look at her with a mix of confusion and surprise. 

What? she asked, We were having a nice chat, and then my niece and nephew burst out of the hut, and the poor thing got spooked. Wasn’t the bear’s fault I got slashed.

Uh, Smithers said, drawing out the sound. On that note, ya know how guns have safeties on them?

Moving on to question five, Dr. Courser said, cutting him off. What quality do you value most in another person?

Loyalty, Luis said, again without hesitation. 

Determination, Lee said with the same conviction as Luis. 

Kindness, Morgan said, folding her hands in her lap. 

Compassion, Timm responded, his voice dropped so low Luis could barely hear him. As he looked at the man, Luis noted that Timm lowered his eyes, hiding his own expression. 

They on my lawn? Smithers asked. 

Let’s assume not, Dr. Courser, smiled at Smithers. 

Then we good, he responded, leaning back and cupping his hands behind his head, eyes closing again. 

Well, Dr. Courser said, placing her quill down. I think that has given me a good place to start with your files and how we should move forward with therapy. I believe I have asked you quite enough questions. Do you have any for me?

Where are we? Morgan asked. 

You are in St. Augustine’s Hospital, Dr. Courser answered. 

No, Morgan shook her head. We’ve been told that plenty of times. But where is St. Augustine?

Well, St. Augustine was renovated from an older mental hospital here in the city of Boston, Massachusetts, Dr. Courser explained. I assure you that you are perfectly safe here and have not been sent far at all from where you were discovered after your traumatic incident.

When will we be allowed to leave? Luis asked, bluntly. 

Dr. Courser smiled at him. When we deem you fit to reenter society.

And when will that be? Luis pressed. 

After our evaluations are complete, Dr. Courser answered just as vaguely as before. 

Is there any way we can speed that process along? Luis asked. I have gold. 

Dr. Courser shook her head. It is not a matter of money or bribery. It is my job to make sure you are not a danger to yourself or others, in that instance… 

The lights above them began to flicker before settling again. Dr. Courser let out a despondent sigh. 

It seems that’s all the time we have for today. I need to go check on a few things, so in the meantime you may talk amongst yourselves. She stood and walked across the room to the door, pressing another square to a black panel on the inside of the door. It made a beeping sound and she pulled the door open by the handle. The orderlies will be along to collect you all and return you to your rooms shortly.

With that, Dr. Courser left the room and Luis looked around at the strangers who sat before him. He flexed his fingers, feeling the drugs in his system wearing off. He looked over at Timm and Lee. Both of them nodded to him and a silent pact was made. Wherever this Boston was, they were soon going to be seeing a lot more of it.

2

Timm

Timm saw the determination in both Lee and Luis’ eyes, and felt a similar flame of conviction flicker to life in him that he had not felt since the last time he was in his master’s presence. These, he determined, were men of similar quality. While trying to gather his thoughts he noted the older man, Smithers, open his eyes and look in his direction. 

So, now that the doc’s gone, where are y’all from? The man’s wavering voice seemed to direct to the room in spite of holding eye contact with Timm.

Timm started to answer, but felt the names of his homeland escape him. The world around him was alien to him, but he did not think that it was responsible for his lapse in memory. For a moment he clawed at the fleeting wisps of memory before Luis broke the silence. 

Another world, it seems, from this one, the man’s strong voice came out, bringing Timm back to the present. This was a skill he remembered his master once told him would be one of his greatest challenges. And at the very least, that memory was intact. 

Right, Smithers said, drawing the word out and casting a quick glance at the door. 

Right now we need to take stock of our assets, Luis continued. I don’t have my weapons or armor with me. Are any of you magic users?

Lee and Morgan both raised their hands in response. 

I am a healer, Lee responded, concisely. 

I have some magic, Morgan said, her voice more timid. Some healing, but I can do… other things too. Um… of a more… natural persuasion.

Very well, Luis nodded, seeming to find their answers satisfactory. He then turned to Smithers. I'm assuming you’re from this world… Massachusetts. 

Well, actually I'm from much further south, but been staying here in Boston lately, Smithers answered. 

So Boston is a city in the country of Massachusetts? Morgan asked. 

Uh… no, Smithers said, giving her a confused look. Boston is a city in the state of Massachusetts. One of the fifty states. 

I see, Luis said. Your world is made up of fifty provinces called states?

Our country is, Smithers said. There are lots of other ones across the planet.

Massachusetts is a state within your country then? Morgan asked, and Smithers nodded to her. Then what country is that?

Murica, Smithers answered plainly. 

This must be a different kingdom then. Do you have a strong king? Luis asked. 

The guy’s a complete dumbass, Smithers said with a wave of his hand. 

Then would you like to come with us to our world, once we find a way back? Morgan asked him. Considering you have such an incompetent leader?

Nah, Smithers said. I’ll just wait for them to vote for the lesser evil next time we get the chance. 

Timm, getting bored with the conversation and not seeing how it was helping them in the present, stood up and began walking on unsteady feet. Slowly he felt himself regaining his balance and strength. With every step he grew more confident and after a moment found himself at the door that Doctor Courser had exited out of. He tried the handle, and strangely felt it move under his grasp, however when he tried to open the door it seemed the latch had not disengaged after all. 

You need the card, Timm heard Smithers call from behind him. He turned to face the old man. 

What do you mean, card? Morgan asked Smithers, walking over to the door next to Timm. 

Didja see that square plastic thing she had in her hand? Smithers asked. Morgan shrugged slightly, but Timm nodded his head though he was unsure of what the word ‘plastic’ meant. Smithers continued, Well you take that, and the RFID chip in it activates the door when you press it against that box there. 

Smithers pointed to the wall next to the door. Timm turned to look and saw a black box mounted to the wall with a red light blinking in one corner. 

Is this some kind of magic? Morgan asked, examining the box closely. 

Magic? Smithers laughed. Of course not.

Well then, Morgan said, Perhaps we can find a way to—

Timm drew back his fist and slammed it into the black box, which burst into shards and fell to the floor. Satisfaction swelled in his chest as Timm watched the little red light fade to dark. 

Try it now, Timm said, proudly. He turned to see Morgan’s shocked expression at the abrupt action flicker away to a more composed look before she nodded at him and tried the door. 

It was still locked. 

Timm felt his cheeks grow warm as his head drooped slightly. He was unsure of why he felt embarrassed, however he found it difficult to look at Morgan. Keeping his head low he mumbled out, Well… could you maybe turn into something small and go under the door? You’re a druid, right?

Morgan smiled at him and said, Yes, but I'm not that powerful yet. I still have to learn more before I am able to unlock that ability in myself. 

Oh, Timm said timidly. 

The sound of heavy footfalls echoed down the hallway, causing Timm and Luis to snap to attention. Two men in white shirts and tan colored pants approached the doorway. One held a card in his hand like the one Smithers had described while the other carried a small black box with him. 

Sir, said the one with the card. I need you to back away from the door. 

Timm shot a quick look to Luis, who nodded at him. Giving the knight a nod back, Timm turned to face the men, held his hands up, and took a long step back from the door. The man with the card stepped forward and his hand moved out of view through the window. There was a beep and a click and the door opened before the two men stepped inside. 

Okay, the one with the card said, now I just need you to go back to your wheelchair and sit down. We’re going to take you back to your rooms for your medicine. 

In response, Timm moved forward, channeling all the speed his training had given him and threw an upward punch into the man’s stomach, forcing him to double over and heave. Before he had a chance to recover, Timm threw his opposite elbow across the man’s jaw. His jaw cracked audibly, and as he hit the ground, Timm was confident the man would stay there for quite a while. 

Before the other man, the one with the black box, could react, Timm pivoted around him in an attempt to block his path through the open door while simultaneously keeping the door from swinging shut and locking them inside. Confusion flickered clearly across the man’s face before it was set into an expression of fury at Timm. 

Which is why he didn’t see it coming when Luis hit him from behind with the folding chair that Doctor Courser had been sitting on during their session. The man staggered forward but did not fall. Turning, he