No. 301
February 4, 2013
When his phone rang, Lee looked down from the TV to check
the caller display. It was his friend, Zach. Lee pressed the button to ignore
the call. “Always during the middle of ‘World’s Most Venomous Animals’,” he
said as he threw the phone to the other side of the couch.
Moments later, the phone began to buzz again. Lee grabbed it
and answered abruptly.
“What?” he snapped at Zach.
The voice on the other end was shrill and panicked. “It’s
chewing on my leg!” was the desperate cry for help.
Lee didn’t know how to react. “What’s that?”
Zach’s reply was louder. “It’s eating me!”
The plea was accompanied by a smashing noise. There was
definitely a struggle going on.
“Call the police!” said Lee excitedly. “Why are you calling
me? 911!”
Before Zach could respond, the line went dead. Lee followed
his own advice and dialed for help.
“911. What’s your emergency?” said the operator.
“My friend is being attacked by something. Maybe an animal?
I don’t know,” Lee told her all in one breath.
“Can you see the animal now?” asked the operator.
Lee felt helpless, and he was worried about Zach. “No. My
friend is at his house. He called me and hung up.” Lee relayed the address and
what few details he knew about Zach’s situation while he threw on his shoes and
started his car. The operator stayed on the phone with him until he was within
sight of Zach’s home.
Arriving at the scene just after the firefighters, Lee
watched as they gathered their gear and ran into the house. He could hear faint
screams from inside.
One of the firefighters came back out almost immediately. He
was shouting at someone behind the truck that Lee couldn’t see. “All the rope!
We’re going to need all of it!”
“And the axes,” he added, ominously.
No. 302
February 5, 2013
“It’s a wide world out there, and we’re all stuck here,”
said the promoter. “But what if we could change that? What if we could
experience far-away things, simply and cheaply?”
She paused, letting the audience’s expectation build.
At the height of anticipation, she spoke again. “What if we
could teleport?” she asked as pulled back a large curtain to reveal a
polished-metal tube. “My handsome assistant will demonstrate,” she said,
welcoming the man to the stage.
The assistant waved his hand over a sensor and the tube
split open. He climbed inside while the promoter closed the hatch behind him.
A screen slid down from the ceiling, then lit up with a
camera feed. In the center of the shot was a tube identical to the
demonstration model. “Live, from Hong Kong,” the promoter explained. “No
tricks, just the technology at work.”
The audience watched in awe as the assistant got out of the
tube on the screen. He smiled at the camera, then picked it up and panned it
toward the window. The audience gasped and applauded. It worked.
The promoter knocked on the tube beside her. The door opened
up, and the same man stepped out. The audience was perplexed. Now there were
two? The promoter began to explain. “Our technology allows you to be in two, or
three, or a hundred, places at once. You’ll never have to wonder what’s going
on out there in the world again. Every duplicate passes their memories back to
the original.”
A hand rose in the audience. The promoter jumped at the
chance to connect.
“Yes?” she asked with a smile.
The woman from the audience had to shout to be heard above
the excitement in the hall. “Is the process dangerous? What would happen if the
doubles decided they wanted to—,” she hesitated, searching for the right
phrase. “Come home?” she finished.
The promoter laughed. “Not a problem. Our system has built
in fail-safes. Each duplicate can only operate within a limited range of the
transporter that it came out of. We’ve made sure to space them far enough apart
from one another that no duplicates will ever come into contact with an
original, or another duplicate.”
“Now, let me show you some of the other amazing features of
the technology,” the promoter said, bringing her presentation back on track.
“I have another question,” said another voice from the back.
“Are you absolutely sure about your answer?”
The promoter’s face went white. She dropped her microphone
and took a panicked step back.
Her duplicate was standing in the doorway.
No. 303
February 6, 2013
The man washed ashore with the high tide. He crawled a short
ways out of the water before he collapsed.
It was dark when he woke up. He coughed, spraying sand from
his mouth. Rolling to a seated position, he tried to see where he was. In the
moonlight, he could only make out a line of palm trees beyond the shoreline,
bordering the edge of a black jungle.
The man was alarmed to realize that he couldn’t remember how
he’d arrived at this place, or even his own name. A wave of terror gripped
him. He instinctively curled into a ball
and worked his way into the sand.
Morning took a very long time to arrive.
Dawn brought a new visitor. A large lizard, about the size
of a cat, had evidently sensed the castaway and had made its way down the beach
toward the man. The reptile was about to take an exploratory bite of the sleeping
human when a rock hit it in the head, ricocheting off the scavenger, and
striking the man in the chest, as well.
The lizard scurried away, and the man woke up with a jolt.
He squinted in the bright sunshine. There was another person on the beach. It
took a moment for the man’s eyes to focus.
“You’re safe now,” said the naked woman who knelt down
beside him. “I’m Wendy,” she told him matter-of-factly.
The man was elated for the company. He was still very
confused, but perhaps she could help him. “What happened to me? Where am I?”
Wendy’s head tilted slightly. “You don’t remember?”
“No,” said the man. “Nothing.”
“I saw your boat,” she explained. “I was thrilled. Finally,
a chance to leave! But, during the storm, it hit the reef,” she explained. “I
didn’t see anybody make it off.”
“Except, I guess, you,” she concluded.
The man lay back down. “Nobody else?”
Wendy answered his question with her silence.
“Was there anybody else?” asked the man.
“I don’t know,” she told him.
“What did you mean, ‘finally, a chance to leave’?” the man
asked. “And where are your clothes?”
“Oh, you noticed,” Wendy laughed. Then she sighed. “You’re
on an island. It’s remote. I was shipwrecked here a little over two years ago.
Your boat was the first sign of humanity I’ve seen, since.”
The man felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Two years?”
She nodded.
“Come on,” she told him, changing the subject. “We’d better
get back to my camp. That lizard will be the least of our worries if we don’t
return in time.” She took his hand, and began to lead him into the forest.
He took one last look at the empty beach before following
her toward the center of the island.
“I don’t even know my name,” he confided to her as they
began down the path.
She didn’t turn around or slow down, but he could hear a wry
smile in her voice. “Then I’ll have to call you Peter, for now.”
No. 304
February 7, 2013
Buzz had been in the soup for 20 minutes, and his no-good
friend, Randy, wasn’t doing anything about it.
“Settle down,” Randy told him. “The waiter will pick you out
after you’ve been served. I’m not getting anywhere near that stuff. Ugh.
Tomato.”
“I hate you, Randy,” said Buzz. “I really do.”
“Nonsense, it’ll be fun. Think of the stories you could tell
around the carcass. You’re in no danger of drowning. You’re just embarrassed
right now.”
“You pull me out right now, or I’ll tell everyone about the
time you got too close to the flypaper.”
Randy had no choice but to comply.
The meal was eaten without the hilarious cliché.
No. 305
February 8, 2013
The rain was especially heavy that year. I remember, because
our backyard turned into a swamp. To a child, the only thing better than a
cardboard box is, of course, a swamp.
I was able to enjoy that mud for all of fifteen minutes.
Marcus Hamilton fell on me and I broke my arm. After the
accident, I worried that I would have to spend the rest of the summer in the
house, watching the other kids have fun outside without me.
But my mom bought me a telescope and, on the clear nights, I
learned how to find the North Star.
You know, I never did send a thank-you card to Marcus.
No. 306
February 9, 2013
Miranda floated on her back in the calm, warm
ocean. She watched the contrails of jets passing far overheard. Slowly, she
exhaled, and slipped beneath the water.
She was
suspended, all of her senses tuned to the sensation of the waves. She stayed
under until her breath ran out.
Then, with a lazy paddle of her hands, she returned
to the surface. Tomorrow, she was moving away. Today, she here and she would
enjoy every minute of it.
No. 307
Frank and Molly Part 3
February 10, 2013
Frank looked at her strangely. “But you said—.”
“I said ‘you needed me’,” Molly interrupted him. “I said
‘you brought me here’.”
She drew in her breath sharply, like a disappointed teacher.
“But I suppose that it would be your nature to assume that the reasons that you
need me are only your own.”
Frank took in the mysterious new island, his beached ship,
and the seemingly insane girl sitting in front of him. “I really don’t
understand.”
Molly played with a stray curl of her hair, thinking
something through. Then, apparently having made a decision, she stood and
crossed the small camp to sit next to Frank.
Frank felt more alive than during any time that he could remember. He didn’t say anything, trying not to break
the spell he was under.
She put her hand on his shoulder. His eyes widened.
“Frank,” she said softly. “When was the last time you
thought about dying? Be honest.”
He remembered the moment instantly. “Before I named you,” he
said in a whisper.
“So, do you see? We both got what we needed,” she told him,
with one finger pointed at the middle of his chest. “And how is that all about
you?”
Frank and Molly sat next to each other, not speaking, for a
long time. The embers of the fire turned red, and then black. Eventually, the
first rays of the sun appeared over the long horizon of the ocean.
“It’s morning,” said Frank.
Molly smiled and nodded. Frank watched her, trying to commit
her face to memory.
“I won’t see you again, will I?” he asked, the answer
already clear.
She shook her head.
“Goodbye, Frank.”
He stood, and brushed himself off, ready to return to his
boat. He wanted with all of his heart to hug her, but the gesture seemed so
small compared to what she had done. Instead, he told her.
“Goodbye, Molly.”
Frank Benson leaned against the railing at the bow of his
ship. He watched the waves pass by as the vessel made for port.
He was ready to begin his new life.
No. 308
February 11, 2013
The phone rang at 3:34am. Sean’s deep sleep shattered. He
felt all the blood in his body turn cold. Rolling over, he answered
immediately, bypassing a glance at the display.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” said his sister. Sean could hear fear in her
voice. “Are you ok?” she asked without a pause.
Sean felt the tightness in his body lessen slightly. She
would have led with really bad news.
“I’m fine, Dana. I’m ok,” he reassured her. “Why are you calling?”
The line buzzed quietly for a moment before she responded.
“I had a bad feeling about something,” she told him
eventually. “I just felt—,” she trailed off. “I can’t explain it.”
“Everything’s alright, Sis,” Sean told her.
“I’m sorry I called so late,” she said. “Sorry I woke you
up.”
“No, you can always call. Anytime.”
“Goodnight, Sean,” she said, softly. He could tell she was
embarrassed.
“’Night,” he told her. “Love you.”
“You too,” she said. Then she hung up.
Sean put the phone back on his nightstand and sat up. The
shot of adrenaline from the unexpected call would make getting back to sleep
difficult. He put on his robe and went downstairs to watch TV for awhile.
He made himself a snack and settled in front of the glowing
screen. The news was on. Before he had a chance to change the channel, the
picture changed. Sean saw a house, surrounded by crime-scene tape. As the
cameras rolled, a police officer walked up the front steps.
The instant before the officer raised his hand to knock,
Sean recognized the house.
The sound still scared him.
No. 309
February 12, 2013
The absurd quality of a water-balloon fight in the rain did
not cross Corey’s mind as he made his move on the strategically significant
field-house building. The washrooms inside would provide the means to continue
the battle indefinitely.
As he drew nearer to his objective, Corey saw movement in
the trees to his left. There was a shout as his opponents saw him, as well.
Corey broke into a run, leaping over a low hedge and barely clearing the
drainage ditch on the other side. If the others reached the faucets before he
did, all would be lost.
He almost made it.
“So close,” said Joel, leader of the rival team, as he
stepped out of the washroom with a full balloon in each hand and a plastic
pistol tucked into his belt.
Corey skidded to a halt, trapped between the two groups. He
knew his own allies were close by, on the other side of the park securing the
hose by the basketball courts, but not near enough at this moment to even the
odds in the standoff.
The rain hammered down. All parties stood still, stoic
against the downpour.
“Put down your weapons,” ordered Joel. Corey had no choice
but to obey.
He laid his single filled balloon gently on the concrete
ground, then straightened. After hesitating briefly, he dropped a handful of
empty balloons from his left pocket, as well.
“And the rest,” Joel told the captive, as he hefted a
balloon threateningly.
Corey knelt to surrender the tiny water gun that was stuffed
into his sock. If he played his cards right, perhaps they wouldn’t suspect that
he had a stash of balloons in his right pocket, too.
On his way down, he glanced at Joel and the other boys who
surrounded him. He was trying desperately to think his way out of the trap.
Then, as his fingers closed on the green plastic of his
hold-out weapon, the idea came. It was a plan they would never see coming, and
it could turn the tide of the war.
Corey drew the gun and, at the same time, started off in a
dead sprint, through the downpour, for the door to the girls’ bathroom.
No. 310
February 13, 2013
It was Dr. Leonard Allen who invented the Time Engine in the
science lab at Cedar Hills University. The device allowed me, and millions of
others, to cheat death.
The system is brilliant. For a price, the Time Engine will
calculate the exact moment of your passing, and then allow you to skip it.
It was such a simple concept. Scientists were amazed nobody
had figured it out sooner. Dr. Allen became the richest and most influential
man on Earth.
But, like most concepts that appear too simple, the Engine
has flaws—deep and terrible flaws. We realized that humans are meant to die.
The signs began to
appear in the First Seven. For obvious reasons, the symptoms were kept under
the strictest secrecy. Cover stories were put in place, and four of the Seven
abruptly dropped out of the public eye.
Then the trial groups began to turn. That, too, was hushed
up. It was easy for someone as powerful as Dr. Allen.
By the time the regular customers began to see the effects,
measures were in place to contain the anomalies.
The sickness comes on quickly. Exactly 1463 days after the
Skip, the Change begins. It doesn’t happen to everyone, though. That’s what
makes it so hard to tackle.
My job, right now, is containment. Although, it’s possible
that I’ll be in need of some myself in the very near future.
I Skipped 1459 days ago.
No. 311
February 14, 2013
Cupid stood in the airport security line, waiting his turn
along with everybody else. He placed his bag on the conveyor, and walked
through the metal detector.
“Excuse me, sir, could you stand aside?” a security agent
asked.
Cupid did as the man instructed. Another agent, the woman
who was screening the bags, gave her co-worker some sort of hand signal.
Cupid’s bags were quickly pulled from the flow and put aside
onto a metal table.
The woman spoke first. “What’s this?” she said, pulling a
heart-tipped arrow from the bag.
“A heart-tipped arrow,” said Cupid.
“Sir, are you aware that arrows are strictly prohibited on
flights?” said the man.
“Come on. It’s just a stick with hearts at the end, really,”
said Cupid. “It’s relatively harmless.”
“The government doesn’t think so,” said the woman.
“They do not,” agreed the man.
Cupid sighed. “Every year,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that, sir?” asked the man.
Cupid didn’t reply. He checked his watch. “I’m pretty busy,”
he told the agents. “Am I going to miss my flight?”
“Sir—“ started the man, but he didn’t have a chance to
finish.
Cupid leapt over the table, removing two more arrows from
his bag at the same time. With both in-hand, he threw one at the woman, and
stabbed the man with the other.
Cupid stood back and admired his handiwork. The rest of
people in line drew back, away from the confusing scene. “Don’t worry,” Cupid
assured them. “None of you are going to remember this.”
Retrieving the arrows from the impaled pair, Cupid stowed
them back in his suitcase and made for his boarding gate.
“Every year,” he said to himself again, shaking his head.
The two agents revived quickly. Blinking hard, they stared
at each other.
“What just happened?” said the woman.
“I’m not sure,” said the man. “But, hey, do you want to grab
a coffee later, or something?”
No. 312
February 20, 2013
Carlisle, the flying frog, lived briefly on the screen.
He was killed by the backspace button.
No. 313
February 21, 2013
Long the domain of surgeons, human enhancements had been
taken over by technicians, and had entered the mind. Now it was possible to
update one’s personality as simply as changing one’s appearance.
Plastic personas were the future.
May 1, 20—
He’d saved secretly for months.
Usually shy and retiring, L— clicked the link and watched
the program begin to download. When the computer displayed the appropriate
screen, L— put on the neural helmet and prepared himself for the upgrade.
His body tensed for a moment, and then relaxed. L— had
reflexively closed his eyes during the data transfer, and when he opened them
he was a little surprised to see that nothing had changed. He certainly felt
stronger.
His mother, S—, noticed immediately. L— moved differently when
he came down the stairs for dinner. S—dropped the plate she’d been washing and
it smashed on the floor. “Why?” was all she could manage.
L—didn’t have time for his mother’s protests. He barely
spared her a glance as he stalked out the front door.
S—sank to the ground, surrounded by the pieces of the broken
plate, and cried softly.
No. 314
February 22, 2013
The sun blazed down on Chloe as she lay on her back on the
trampoline in the backyard.
She heard her brother busying himself somewhere over by the
house. She didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, and continued to read her
book. She was starting chapter seven, and it was a good one.
Seven became eight, and the heroine was just about to find
the treasure when Chloe was horribly surprised by a splash of cold water.
“What are you doing?” she screamed at her brother.
He laughed, and dashed for the tree in the corner of the
yard. If he could make it to his fort, he would have ways to repel any assault.
“You said you were hot,” he cackled as he shimmied up the ladder.
Chloe stood, fuming with anger. She looked at her soaked
book, and threw it onto the grass near the deck. She watched her brother
watching her from the window of his fort. She knew she had no way to get him
back right away for what he’d just done.
She took a step toward the edge of the trampoline, bouncing
slightly as she did. An idea occurred to her. She looked back at her brother.
Then she bent her knees and began to jump. Slowly, at first, but she built the
momentum quickly. In no time, she was bounding as high as she could go.
Nobody could resist for long. After only a few minutes, her
brother had been lured down from his hideout and was creeping slowly toward the
trampoline. Chloe continued her act, pretending that she didn’t notice him. She
waited for the perfect moment to strike. As soon as he was in range, she leapt
off the trampoline and hit him with a flying tackle.
“Ow!” he said.
“I win,” she told him as she dusted herself off.
“Ok, but can I jump now?” he asked, scrambling to his feet.
It was Chloe’s turn to laugh. She pushed him back down, and
ran for the trampoline. “Nope, it’s still my turn!”
No. 315
February 23, 2013
Turret duty on a MacLehose class freighter was boring to
begin with. Turret duty through Pacified Space was even more so. Nobody was
ever attacked out here.
Junior Petty Officer Patten sat back in the harness and
watched black nothing pass by in front of his gun barrels. He sighed. Only
seven and a half more hours to go on this watch. He daydreamed of a good,
old-fashioned void-pirate attack.
Of course, the pirates had been wiped out decades ago. Their
flagship, the Betsy, had been destroyed off of Lamma IV. The memories were
still fresh enough, however, that every transport ship in the fleet was still
required to be armed. The MV Matthew Nathan had the bare minimum, the one that
Patten was stuck in. He wondered idly if the guns had ever even been fired.
Lining up the sights on a distant star, he mimed blowing his
target out of space. “Kaboom,” he said, amusing himself slightly. He tracked
the guns toward another point of light. “Pow,” he murmured as he destroyed that
imaginary threat, too. He was aiming a third phantom volley when the ship’s
hourly chime sounded.
The noise startled Patten and his finger tightened reflexively
on the trigger. A blast of searingly bright blue light flashed from the
cannons, lancing into the darkness.
“Oh no,” whispered Patten. The captain would not take an
accidental weapon’s discharge lightly.
Patten began to desperately think of an excuse. He watched
the laser beams continue on their path. They’d go forever unless they hit
something. He hoped they wouldn’t hit something.
Then they did.
Patten saw two fiery flashes as the deadly bolts intersected
with a ship.
But that was strange. There had been no ship there a second
ago. The vessel had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. That wasn’t possible.
Unless.
Something tickled at the back of Patten’s brain. What was it
called?
A cloaking shield, he remembered. It was the favorite tool
of the void-pirates.
Patten quickly dialed up the image-enhancers to their
maximum magnification. The ship he’d shot at came into focus. It was turning
toward the Nathan. Patten could just make out a name painted on the hull.
Betsy II.
“Oh no,” he said again. He checked the power on his guns and
radioed the captain. “Bridge, this is Turret. We have incoming.”
No. 316
February 24, 2013
Wes Conrad was walking down the street when he heard a
strange conversation. Two disheveled hobos were standing on the corner,
seemingly talking about another vagrant.
“Well. That’s it. It’s the third today. Richard is out,”
said one.
“Aw man. I always kinda thought that’d be it,” replied the
other.
“Really? You had the second? Are you out, too?”
“No. I hedged my bets. I’ve got Carl, November 30, 2019.”
“Long ways off.”
“Yeah, but it pays out at 19 to one.”
“That’s a lot of money. But why does your sign say ‘near’?
2019 isn’t near at all.”
“Oh, that. You gotta give the people what they want, you
know? Helps with the tips.”
Wes shook his head as he went past the men. The doomsday
prophets are running a pool, now?
No. 317
The Good Dog Part 4
February 25, 2013
I’ve got a stick! I’ve got a stick! It’s my stick! It’s not
your stick! I’ve got a stick! Do you see my stick? Look at my stick! Oh my
gosh—a stick! It’s mine! I’ve got it! It’s a stick! See my stick? Do you see
it? It’s mine! It’s my stick!
Here’s my stick!
Throw my stick! Will you throw it? Will you throw my stick?
Throw the stick! Throw it! Throw the stick! That stick—that one! Throw that
stick!
No. 318
February 26, 2013
Rick Elway began to make a list of his New Year’s resolutions.
He made two orderly columns, and numbered the rows one through ten. He began
filling in the spots immediately.
1.
I will refrain from throwing out the entire bowl of
cereal after some gets soggy.
2.
I will stop referring to area south of Portland Street
as “That part of town—you know”.
3.
I will feed my own iguana
4.
I will count all my golf shots. Even the “practice”
ones.
5.
I will no longer answer the phone “Hey, loser” if the
person is a loser.
6.
I will drive the speed limit.
7.
I will stop underlining parts of library books that I
don’t agree with.
8.
I will limit karaoke nights to Fridays and Saturdays
only. And Tuesdays.
9.
10.
Most of the resolutions came easily. However, Rick was two
short. He studied the incomplete list intently, wracking is brain for flaws. He
spent at least five minutes trying to fill out the last spaces.
With no ideas forthcoming, he put down his pen. Who was he
kidding? He balled up the list and threw it in the bin.
There was no point trying to improve on perfection.
No. 319
February 27, 2013
The Easter Bunny checked his watch. He had 3 hours left on
his shift, and he still had no idea what he was doing.
He scrounged around beneath the little girl’s pillow,
feeling for the tooth he’d been told was going to be under it. After several
minutes and no luck, he checked the form again.
“Is that a—,” he mumbled, squinting at the paper. “Yup.
That’s a nine. Great. Awesome.”
He crept outside the house to confirm his mistake. The
numbers here were clear. He was at 2671 Landers Street. He’d misread the 7.
He checked his watch again, and hopped down the road toward
the right address. Only 15 more stops to make tonight.
The Bunny’s day had started poorly. He been roused by his
ringing phone far earlier than he’d planned to rise on his day off. The voice
on the other end had been exceedingly friendly.
“Hey, I’m really sorry to wake you up, but the Tooth Fairy’s
called in sick. Is there any chance at all you could come in?”
Before Bunny had a chance to respond, the caller guessed
what his next question was going to be and cut in quickly. “We’ve already tried
Leprechaun and Cupid.”
Bunny groaned. “Yeah. I’ll be in. Give me half an hour.” He
pulled himself out from under the covers and stumbled toward the shower. He’d
make sure they covered his coffee. He was going to get an expensive one, with
all the toppings.
No. 320A
March 2, 2013
“Is that a rat?” were the first words out of my mouth.
“No, ma’am. Possum,” said the disheveled man on my porch.
It was the strangest sight I’d ever seen. “Does he bite?” I
asked.
The man shrugged. “Sometimes.”
I was silent for a moment, trying to process the situation.
He’d knocked on the door and I hadn’t looked before opening it. That wasn’t
like me at all. Now there was some sort of hobo holding a possum standing in
front of me.
He looked at me, and I looked at him. Finally, I managed to
find something else to say. “Can I help you?”
The man nodded, and removed a tattered ball cap while he
spoke. “My name’s Michael. This is Nelson. I was wondering if I could trouble
you for a bowl of water. It’s terribly hot out here, and Nelson gets thirsty.”
I watched carefully for any sign of deception. Michael
waited quietly while I considered his request. I heard the same part of me that
asked if he needed help say something else.
“I don’t see why not. Why don’t you come on in?”
“And Nelson, ma’am?” he asked.
“Of course, Nelson,” my other-self agreed. This was not like
me at all.
I went to the kitchen and brought a dish down from the
cupboard. I filled it and carried it out to the living room. “There you go,” I
told the animal as I set the bowl on the floor. It seemed appreciative, and
drank quickly. I turned back to its companion.
“Michael,” I said.
He seemed to understand that I had questions.
“We’ve been travelling.”
Michael told me his story while Nelson finished the water.
When the possum was done, it crawled back to Michael’s lap. The man smiled,
stood, and thanked me.
They left very soon after.
I stood behind the screen and watched them go down the road.
To this day, I can’t remember where he said they were going
next.
No. 320B
March 2, 2013
“The blue lamp went out abruptly.
“I’ve got it,” said Sarah, rising from the armchair in the
corner of the room. She walked to the hall closet and began to rummage through
the odds and ends that covered the top shelf.
“Do we have any more bulbs?” she asked her roommate Andrea.
Andrea yawned and looked up from her computer. “Did you look
under the sink? As far as I know, if we have any, they’re there.”
Sarah redirected her search to the washroom. “Nope,” she
confirmed after a brief survey.
“That was my best guess,” said Andrea. “You can take the one
from the light in my bedroom. I never use that thing, anyway.”
“What time is it?” asked Sarah.
Andrea checked. “Just after seven.”
Sarah nodded and returned to the closet. She put on her coat
and picked up her keys from a dish by the front door. “I might as well go to
the store. Do you need anything?”
“Don’t think so. You could bring back some cookies if you’re
feeling adventurous.”
Sarah left.
Andrea became aware of the rain hammering the window. She
didn’t think anything of it for several minutes.
When she realized, she set her computer aside and crossed
the empty apartment. Opening the bathroom cupboard door, the first thing she
saw was a box of light bulbs.
When a soaking-wet Sarah returned home, she found Andrea
waiting for her on the couch. “Did you get the cookies?” Andrea asked
pointedly.
Sarah held up a bag. “Right here.”
“And the lights?”
“Uh huh.”
Andrea watched Sarah for some kind of reaction. Seeing none,
she took a deep breath. “Good,” she said, deciding not to press the issue. “Good.
Good.”
Andrea returned to her computer and Sarah fixed the lamp and
went back to her book.
The rain continued to fall.
No. 321
March 3, 2013
It was in the back row, halfway through ECON 340, where
Aaron Andrew Alison made his discovery.
While the professor droned on about some European financial
crisis, Aaron was been busy drawing aimlessly in his notebook. He had just
finished a detailed study of a UFO when the inked craft began to move across
the paper on its own accord.
Aaron, seeing the motion immediately, first suspected that
he might have accidentally chosen the desk with the wobbly leg. When the table
proved solid, he turned his attention back to the paper.
The ship was now floating just above the surface of the page
and, in seconds, had risen to the level of Aaron’s nose. He tried to swat it back down.
The professor saw Aaron’s erratic gestures from the front of
the room. “Is there a problem, Mr. Alison?”
Aaron kept his eye on the renegade doodle. “No, sir. I just
had a sneeze die on me, that’s all.”
The answer seemed sufficient to deflect the unwanted
attention. Meanwhile, Aaron had noticed something else about the strange
vessel. He’d added small windows to the picture, and now, through one of them,
he thought he could make out the pilot.
It seemed that the creature noticed Aaron, as well. A tiny
hand appeared in the porthole and waved casually at its creator.
The UFO dove back toward the paper on the desk, re-entering
the pages like a submarine sinking beneath the surface of the water. Aaron
flipped rapidly through his notebook, trying to locate the missing saucer.
He couldn’t find it and, more alarmingly, he could see that
all of his other drawings were coming to life, as well.
No. 322
CYOA2 Part 1
March 4, 2013
Snow had been falling when Lt. Rob Martin had departed for
Hawaii, but his trip was no vacation. While the jet jostled up and down from
turbulence, Martin kept one foot on the bag beneath his feet at all times. The
part inside was needed for a top secret project.
Upon arriving in Honolulu, Lt. Martin’s orders were to board
a one-way flight to a classified location. It was sure to be one-way because,
where he was going next, there was no place to land the plane. The pilot was to
ditch the aircraft in the sea and Martin was told that they would then be
“recovered”. The word did not fill him with confidence.
Martin was now one of the four people not at the site who
were cleared into the program. Only Martin’s boss, the President, and a shadowy
third party knew all the details of the scheme. Martin had been told yesterday,
and he still couldn’t believe that what he had heard was true.
He was being sent to Point Nemo, the location in the Pacific
Ocean that was farthest from land. There, under water, an experiment was
underway that depended on the equipment that Martin was bringing with him. The
outcome of the experiment could change the world.
No. 323
March 4, 2013
Lily caught the tiger’s tail and it turned around to bite
her.
Upon seeing the small, frightened girl, the tiger relaxed.
“Little girl,” it said. “Do you know where you are?”
“No,” said Lily, her lips quivering with sadness. “I’m
lost.”
“You’re in the jungle, where few people go. How did you get
here?” it asked her.
“I took the road,” she said. “It was very long, and I’m very
tired. Do you know of a place to sleep?”
“Only my den,” the tiger told her. “And that’s for me.
You’ll have to find your own bed for the night.”
“I understand,” said Lily. “I wish I knew the way home.”
The tiger sat back on its haunches and considered her
statement. The tiger’s home was all around him. It did not have one place
called home.
“I don’t know if I can help you, but if you climb on my back
we could search together,” the cat told the child.
The pair walked for days and days. Sometimes Lily rode on
the tiger’s broad shoulders, and sometimes she walked beside the stately
animal.
It was early in the morning when they reached the edge of
the forest.
“I can take you no farther,” said the tiger. “Your home is
that way, and I cannot leave mine.”
Lily nodded and hugged the great beast. “Thank you, tiger.
Perhaps one day we’ll meet again.”
“Maybe,” answered the tiger. But the tiger knew that it was
not to be. Little girls can only meet a tiger once.
“Goodbye, Lily,” said the tiger.
No. 324
March 6, 2013
It was cold in the warehouse, and Murphy tried to avoid
going in as much as possible. Usually, he was able to leave the onerous task to
somebody else, but on weekends he was the only person at the office.
Of course, it wasn’t just the temperature that kept him
away. The warehouse scared him. Murphy wasn’t worried about goblins or ghosts,
though. He was terrified that something would fall off of one of the shelves
and crush his skull.
Tonight, he needed something from bin 17-C. He consulted the
numbering chart and discovered that 17-C was the last bin in the last row. “Awesome,” he said, turning the word into a
curse.
Arriving at the warehouse door, he paused a moment, waiting
for the lights to come on. One in the back flickered, then stayed off. It was
an ominous sign. Murphy took a deep breath and hurried down the aisles to reach
his objective. He kept his head down, but cast a wary eye up at the looming
racks.
He made it to 17-C without trouble. Still, he felt that the
journey had taken too long. He resolved to make the return trip at a much
higher rate of speed.
With the desired element in hand, Murphy turned and made a
dash back for the glowing safety of the exit door.
At the same moment, the light that had flickered betrayed
him, snapping to life to illuminate the entire corner of the building.
The flash and new shadows conspired to dazzle Murphy, and he
tripped, launching heavily into a large box on a bottom shelf. The impact
destabilized the entire structure, and the carefully stacked inventory began to
fall to the floor.
Murphy whimpered, and crawled for cover.
With a loud crash, the last item hit the ground, after which
the warehouse became oppressively silent. The only sound Murphy could hear was
his own breathing. He was alive! His nightmare had come true, but he’d
survived!
Glancing around at the wreckage, he spotted the part from
17-C. Retrieving his prize, he jauntily made his way back to the office.
Murphy completed his work and shut off his computer. He
wrote a quick note explaining what had happened in the warehouse and left for
home.
On Monday morning, he arrived back at work. Most of the
staff had already arrived, and he walked to his desk past a gallery of strange
looks. As he sat down, his phone rang. It was his boss, calling Murphy to his
office.
Murphy was promptly fired for recklessly damaging company
property. He was instructed to clear out his desk and leave the premises.
He did as he was told, and exited the building for the last
time. He threw the cardboard box of his belongings onto the passenger seat of
his car and drove off angrily.
He didn’t see the red truck passing as he turned out of the
parking lot. It struck his car and the force of the collision catapulted
Murphy’s vehicle into a tree, killing him instantly.
No. 325
March 7, 2013
Lex Orbis punched the keys of the calculator with a
deliberate precision. Then, turning the device to face the shopkeeper, Orbis
crossed his arms and waited.
The shopkeeper considered the number, then shook his head.
Orbis did not move.
The two stared at each other, fully engaged in a battle of
wills.
Still, Orbis did not move.
The shopkeeper broke first, entering a new figure into the calculator.
He showed it to Orbis.
Accepting with a slight nod, Orbis pulled his wallet from
his pocket. After counting out the proper number of bills, he placed them
respectfully on the counter.
He collected his prize, and left the store.
The shopkeeper was immediately on the phone. Speaking
quickly, he gave instructions to the party on the other end of the line. Only
then did he remove the cash from the countertop and put it in the till.
Orbis edged his way down the narrow street, mostly going
straight, but having to dodge on occasion past traffic proceeding in the
opposite direction. He made it perhaps two blocks before being interrupted.
Two large men stepped in front of him to block his path.
“We’ll have it,” one said. The other was silent, but brandished a pipe.
Seeing a small bar to his right, Orbis smiled at the two
goons. “I’m sure you have time for a drink,” he said with a smile. “Why don’t
we step over here,” he continued, gesturing toward the patio of the bar.
His assailants said nothing. Pipe grunted his approval.
Talky shrugged.
The group all moved toward the bar. Orbis made it close
enough that a waiter asked him if he’d like a seat.
“I would,” he said, reaching out and snatching one up off
the ground.
Pipe and Talky had no time to react. Pipe felt the chair hit
his face while Talky, distracted by the sudden attack, was felled by a powerful
kick.
Orbis placed the chair back in its proper position and
thanked the astonished waiter.
The bell over the door rang, announcing an entering
customer.
The shopkeeper didn’t look up. “We’re closed.”
Orbis crossed the store toward the shopkeeper. He placed his
hand on the counter where he’d left the money.
The shopkeeper finally raised his head. His eyes grew wide
and the surprised caused him to burst into a fit out coughing.
“Settle down,” said Orbis derisively. “It’s only me.”
The shopkeeper swallowed hard. “What can I do to help you?”
he asked, cautiously.
Orbis studied the man for a moment before he answered.
Finally, he spoke. “It was the last two hundred, wasn’t it?”
The shopkeeper, knowing the game was up, dropped his chin
for “yes”.
Orbis once again found his wallet. He withdrew the amount
and tucked it into the shopkeeper’s shirt pocket. “And we won’t be having any
more trouble, will we?”
The shopkeeper shook his head vigorously.
“Good,” said Orbis. “That’s what I thought.” He made for the
exit but, before leaving the shop, he turned back to the crooked proprietor.
“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know of a good bar around here, would you?”
No. 326
March 8, 2013
One day a spase Ship Landed on plant nuR.
There was an alien. and The aLein was ataKeKing.
No. 327
CYOA2 Part 2
March 10, 2013
Martin eyed the other passenger as the small plane sped
toward Point Nemo. He watched her lean down and casually adjust the laces of
her boot. Martin struggled to understand how she could be concerned about
something so trivial. He’d just been flown halfway around the globe on an
urgent, secret mission. She seemed as cool and collected as if she was taking a
trip to the corner-store.
What was also awkward was that Martin didn’t know how much
she knew. He decided to play it safe, and not speak to her at all until they
reached their destination.
She was having none of that. “Holly Ridgeway, NASA,” she
told him, thrusting out her hand boldly.
“Hi,” said Martin. “Lt. Rob Martin. Good to meet you, Ms.
Ridgeway.”
Ridgeway smiled. “You’ve got it, then?” she asked, pointing
at the bag Martin had been gripping the entire flight.
“It?” said Martin, weakly deflecting the question.
“The servo,” said Ridgeway. “The one they need at Nemo. You
know, you’d think that they’d keep one of two of those on hand in case of emergencies.
That was all in my report.”
“Was it?” asked Martin, giving nothing away.
“Oh, yes. It’s my test,” she told him.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re setting
down in one minute. As noted in the pre-flight briefing, we’ll be ditching at
sea. Please follow my instructions after we set down, and brace for impact.”
“Here we go,” said Ridgeway with a wink.
Martin clutched his bag even closer, and closed his eyes.
“Brace!” called the pilot.
Then the plane hit the water with a shuddering crash.
No. 328A
CYOA2 Part 3
March 11, 2013
Martin lay in his seat, stunned by the impact. A red haze
clouded his vision. Far in the distance, he could hear the pilot speaking,
telling him how to escape the fuselage.
Something tugged at his bag. Something in the back of his
mind told him to pay attention. His eyes snapped fully open and he saw Ridgeway
collecting the precious part. Martin waved his arm at her, trying to drive her
away.
“Stop,” he mumbled.
“Relax,” she told him. “You’re tangled in your seatbelt.
Give me a second to get you out.”
Martin slumped back, and looked toward the cockpit. The
pilot had made his escape from the sinking plane.
“There,” said Ridgeway. “Come with me.”
She grabbed Martin under his arms and hauled him toward the
hatch. He made sure he kept a tight grip on the precious part. Water began to
flow into the cabin through the open door, and Ridgeway struggled under her
heavy burden.
“If you could help at all, Rob, that would be fantastic,”
she grunted.
Martin found his legs and shuffled along with her. Suddenly
they were both out of the wreck and under a clear, bright blue sky, floating in
the cold water of the conspicuously empty South Pacific. Martin felt another
hand grab his shirt just behind the neck and he was quickly hauled up into a
raft.
The pilot helped Ridgeway aboard, next. And the three sat,
waterlogged, in the flimsy boat.
“Everybody alright?” asked the pilot.
Ridgeway and Martin nodded.
“Won’t be long now,” said the airman. “I just need to send
the signal.”
With a flourish, he produced a grenade. He pulled the pin
and dropped the bomb into the ocean. Seconds later there was a muffled
explosion and a geyser of frothy white spray as the sea erupted.
Soon after that, there was another sound. Martin strained to
hear it, but couldn’t identify the source. It was a loud hum, or rumble that
seemed to come from everywhere at once. The water under the life raft heaved
up, and the gentle motion of the waves was replaced by a solid surface.
Propping himself up, Martin peered out over the side of
boat. He’d been told about the craft during his briefing, but nothing had
prepared him for the sight before his eyes.
Surrounded him on all sides was an enormous metal disc that
had risen out of the deep. A hatch
opened up and a woman’s head popped out. “Hello,” she shouted. “Welcome to
Nautilus Base. Can I have the password, please?”
No. 328B
CYOA2 Part 3 Alternate
March 11, 2013
Martin lay in his seat, stunned by the impact. A red haze clouded his vision. Far in the distance, he could hear the pilot speaking, telling him how to escape the fuselage.
Martin lay in his seat, stunned by the impact. A red haze clouded his vision. Far in the distance, he could hear the pilot speaking, telling him how to escape the fuselage.
Something tugged at his bag. Something in the back of his
mind told him to pay attention. His eyes snapped fully open and he saw Ridgeway
collecting the precious part. Martin waved his arm at her, trying to drive her
away.
“Stop,” he mumbled.
That got her attention. Her eyes widened, and she threw a
panicked glance toward the cockpit. The pilot had bailed out, into the sea. The
plane was empty but for the two passengers.
Seeing they were alone, Ridgeway pulled a gun. “Sorry,” she
told Martin, almost sadly. “They’ll assume you died in the wreck.”
She snatched the bag away and pulled the trigger at the same
time.
Martin’s last view was of Ridgeway scrambling out of the
sinking cabin as water rushed in through the hatch. He felt the ocean reach his
feet, and then he died.
No. 329A
CYOA2 Part 4
March 12, 2013
Martin’s mind went blank. He’d been told the password during
his briefing, but with the long flight and the crash, he’d somehow forgotten.
“I don’t know it,” he whispered to Ridgeway. He began to search his pockets and
bag frantically, hoping that he’d written it down somewhere.
Ridgeway put her hand on his arm. “It’s ok,” she said
quietly. She turned to the woman at the hatch and called back. “Charybdis.”
The woman nodded, and stepped onto the wet deck. “Are you
all ok?” she said as she got closer to the raft. “He seems hurt,” she said,
pointing at Martin.
Martin stood up slowly. “I’m fine. Lt. Rob Martin,” he said,
introducing himself. “I have a servo that you need.”
The woman shook his hand. “Captain Land,” she said in reply.
“And Ridgeway, good to see you again.”
“You, too, Captain,” said Ridgeway.
The pilot was greeted, and the trio were led into the
station.
“Come with me,” Land told Ridgeway and Martin. “I’ll show
you your quarters, then we can get to work. Lt. Martin, I’ll take the servo, if
you like.”
“Work?” asked Martin. His duty, as he was aware of it, had
only been to deliver the part.
“Of course,” said Land. “You’re crew. What did you expect?”
Martin felt the hairs rise on the back of neck. His first
instinct was to lie to the Captain. “No, never mind. I’ll be ready in half an
hour. Sorry, it’s just the shock of the landing and all.”
Martin’s quarters turned out to be a small cabin, deep in
the bowels of the Nautilus. He had the space to himself, and some time to
think. He had the impression that Ridgeway was staying in the same part of the
station, but it was difficult to tell. The corridors from the hatch to his
current location all looked the same, and he had the distinct impression he had
been taken on a route that was designed not to pass any sensitive areas.
Most worryingly, he’d remembered the password he’d been
given. It had not been “Charybdis”.
He also found that his door was locked from the outside. It
was relatively simple to pick it, though, and soon he was standing in the
passageway. He moved slowly down a line of identical doors, pausing at each one
and calling Ridgeway’s name softly.
She answered at the fifth. Martin made sure there was nobody
else around, then carefully let himself in.
“What’s going on?” he asked harshly.
“I don’t know,” she said, and with enough fear in her voice
that he believed her.
“This isn’t right,” he said.
“No,” she agreed. “Something’s wrong.”
No. 329B
CYOA2 Part 4 Alternate
March 12, 2013
Martin was quick to answer, having been told the code before
he left Hawaii. “Scylla.”
The pilot gasped, horrified. Ridgeway seemed like she was
going to be sick.
The woman at the hatch frowned. “How many of you are there?”
Martin looked at his companions. “Just the three of us,” he
called back.
“That’s incorrect,” the woman announced. She disappeared and
the hatch slammed shut. Nautilus Base began to sink back beneath the waves. In
seconds, the raft was alone on the surface.
“Idiot!” shouted the pilot.
Martin was confused. “What’s going on?”
Ridgeway slumped against the side of the boat. “Nautilus is
a massively secret project in the middle of nowhere and you gave them the wrong
code.”
“No, I didn’t,” Martin protested. “’Scylla,’ that’s the
one.”
“’That’s the one’ is right,” said the pilot darkly. “If
there’s only one person. You’ve killed us.”
“That can’t be right,” said Martin. “Get them back. You
sound like you know the right one, tell them!”
“Can’t,” said Ridgeway. “They’ll assume they’ve been
compromised. The base is probably already on the move.”
“What can we do?” asked Martin.
“We drift,” said the pilot.
The supplies on the raft lasted a week, then the hunger set
it. After two, the trio was desperate.
On the last day of the third week, Martin awoke from an
exhausted sleep to see the pilot standing over him with an oar. Martin didn’t have the time or strength to
raise his arms to defend himself. The paddle hit him squarely between the eyes,
killing him instantly.
After a month, a passing fishing vessel spotted a lonely
lifeboat far from any shipping lanes. As it drew closer, the crew could see two
passengers.
When the survivors were plucked from the ocean, the rescuing
crew noted that they were in excellent health for having been adrift for so
long.
No. 330A
CYOA2 Part 5
March 13, 2013
“I don’t think it will do us any good to try to escape,”
said Martin. “Not right now, anyway.”
“I agree,” said Ridgeway. “But do we just sit and wait?”
Martin quietly
considered the plan before he spoke. “They may still need us. I’ve delivered
their equipment, but I’m not sure if I would have been told about the
experiment in as much detail as I was if they were just going to detain me. And
you, It’s your experiment.”
“Unless Land’s gone rogue,” Ridgeway suggested. “Did you see
how she looked at us when we arrived? I’m not certain they were expecting us,
even if they needed the servo.”
“We need more information,” Martin concluded. “I’m going to
go back to my cabin. It won’t do for them to know we can meet. If they threaten
us in any way, we’ll make a move. Until then, we play cool.”
“’Cool’,” said Ridgeway with a nod. “Got it.”
Land returned after the promised thirty minutes. With her
was a short, dirty looking man. “This is Albert Hodge,” Land introduced. “He’ll
be your liaison with the science team. But, for the moment, would you two like
to join me on the bridge?”
Martin and Ridgeway said yes and were soon led to the
control center of the Nautilus.
“Amazing,” gasped Ridgeway. Martin, too, was impressed. At
the center of the bridge was a giant holographic schematic of Nautilus Base.
The scale was stunning. Near as Martin could tell, a jumbo jet could land on
the top deck with room to spare. And there appeared to be seven such decks.
“Is that the core?” Ridgeway asked, pointing at a void at
the center of the station.
“Indeed it is,” said Land with a smile. “Hodge will show you
around there after dinner.”
Something clicked in Martin’s brain. “You didn’t need the
part, did you?”
Land laughed. “Of course not, we’re completely
self-sufficient. But we didn’t have you, and you’re a hard thing to find.”
Hodge began to laugh as well, a joyless, grating sound.
No. 330B
CYOA2 Part 5 Alternate
March 13, 2013
“I think we need to escape,” said Martin.
“Escape to where?” Ridgeway asked. “You saw what we passed
over on the flight here. There’s nothing out there.”
“They’ve got to have a way to get around. Boats, or escape
pods, or maybe even a seaplane hanger. This base is enormous. We just need to
find something,” Martin said with more courage than he felt.
Ridgeway quietly considered the plan, sparse as it was. “I
suppose, at least, a walk around couldn’t hurt.”
They left the cabin and crept back up the passageway the way
they’d been brought. Martin took the lead. Coming to a blind corner, he paused
and motioned Ridgeway to retreat to a discrete distance. Then he poked his head
around.
It was the exact wrong moment. Captain Land was coming down
the hall toward him and noticed the surreptitious movement.
“Halt!” she shouted. “Guards!”
Ridgeway, who’d been behind, managed to escape capture, but
Martin wasn’t so lucky.
“So you want to leave our installation?” Land asked him
before she had him shoved into the tube. “We can certainly accommodate that.”
A large cover was lowered into place, and Martin could hear
screws being tightened. It had a tiny porthole in it, through which he could
still see the Captain.
Martin watched as Land pointed to somebody. He didn’t know
it was a technician who pulled a lever to open the tube to the deep.
Martin was ejected through a torpedo door. Nautilus Base was
currently keeping station far below the surface, and the pressure of the water
crushed the lieutenant immediately.
Inside, Land was furious. “That’s one,” she screamed at her
minions. “Now find the other!”
No. 331A
CYOA2 Part 6
March 14, 2013
“That was an excellent meal,” said Martin. He wasn’t lying.
Captain Land had prepared a feast for her guests although, throughout the
dinner, she’d been elusive when questioned. Martin would have liked to have
found out why she needed him, specifically. He resolved to uncover the answer.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Captain Land agreed. “We have an
excellent support staff on board. They’ve been poached from the best hotels all
over the world.”
Hodge and Ridgeway were having their own discussion at the
table. Martin heard the words “energy” and “isolated” but couldn’t make out the
rest. Turning back to Land, he asked her point-blank about his situation.
“Why me?”
Land swirled her wine glass and said nothing.
“Why do you need me?” Martin insisted.
The Captain leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
She sighed deeply and then replied. “You’re going to find out eventually, I
suppose.” She waited a little longer before finally getting to the point. “We
need you to calibrate the machine.”
Ridgeway and Hodge’s conversation stopped abruptly and
everyone turned to stare at Martin.
“I don’t know how to do that,” said Martin. “I’m really just
a delivery man.”
Land smiled. “Why do you think they told the delivery man
about the entire project?” she asked him. “I should be clearer. You’re the
calibration. Perhaps Mr. Hodge can explain it better.”
Hodge fixed Martin in an uncomfortable gaze.
Martin shifted in his seat.
Ridgeway’s eyes were wide, but she stayed silent.
“You’re the first one,” said Hodge. “We tried this
experiment twenty-seven years ago. You were the result. Our technology then was
primitive, and we didn’t know much about the time-barrier. You came through and
the lab went up. Took the city with it.”
Martin swallowed hard. “A city exploded? It seems like
people would remember that. You’re crazy.”
“Of course they do,” said Land. “Everybody does.”
“Chernobyl,” Ridgeway whispered. “That was us,” she said,
realizing.
“That’s right,” said Land. “This time we’ve decided to
conduct our business without as many neighbors.”
Martin spoke up. “But what do you mean ‘I came through’?”
“You got the briefing,” said Land. “You know what we’re
doing.”
“I’m from the future?”
Land nodded. “You were a baby, then.”
“And now?”
“Now, after all this time, we’re ready to turn on the
machine again,” confirmed the Captain. “Finish your dessert. Then we’ll head
down to the core.”
No. 331B
CYOA2 Part 6 Alternate
March 14, 2013
“That really was an excellent meal,” said Martin. He wasn’t
lying. Captain Land had prepared a feast for her guests although, throughout
the dinner, she’d been elusive when questioned. Martin would have liked to have
found out why she needed him, specifically. He resolved to attempt to get some
information from the outside. “Is there any chance I could use your secure comm
gear to reach my boss? Let him know I’ve arrive safely, and all that.”
The Captain fidgeted in her chair. She flashed a telling
glance at Hodge before she replied. “I’m afraid we can’t have that. All of our
long-range connections are down right now.”
Ridgeway interrupted. “What about the emergency beacon? That
runs on a separate system from the rest. I’m sure we can send a message that
way.”
Hodge pushed back from the table and stood. Land held up her
hand with one finger extended. “Wait,” she told her minion.
She rose from her seat, too. “How do you know about the
beacon?” she demanded. “I thought you were part of the lab team?”
“It’s the same system as on the Space Station,” replied
Ridgeway. “That was my last project.”
Hodge shook his head.
“Too much,” Land agreed. “This is my project,” she told her
captives. “I can’t have you interfering.” She sighed, and closed her eyes.
“Hodge, deal with them.”
As Martin and Ridgeway were hustled out of the room, Land
stayed behind and screamed at them. “Nautilus is mine!” she ranted “I will not
allow it to be taken from me!”
The pair were locked in a narrow room filled with pipes.
“We’re near the core,” Ridgeway observed. “That’s not good.”
“Why?” asked Martin.
“Because, unless I’m mistaken, those are cooling ducts for
the experiment,” said Ridgeway grimly. “I can only guess that Land’s taken over
because the experiment is ready to go online. If she activates it, we’ll
freeze.”
“How long have we got?”
“It’ll be instantaneous.”
As soon as Ridgeway said the words, a deep rumble filled the
space.
“Goodbye,” she told Martin.
Their bodies turned to ice and then shattered.
By turning on the machine, Land had taken the first step
towards the end of the world.
No. 322A
CYOA2 Part 7
March 15, 2013
“Did you know about this?” Martin whispered to Ridgeway.
“Some,” she admitted. “But about the program. Not you.”
Martin raised his voice to address the Captain. “Was I the
only one?” he asked.
“No,” said Land. “There were three children. You and another
stayed here, and the other one went back before the accident. The little girl
who remained died in a car accident when she was seventeen.”
Martin took a moment to process the information. “Why did we
end up here?” he said. “Why us?”
Hodge answered. “We don’t know. Like I said, we didn’t know
much about the barrier. The machine was on for a total of five minutes. We sent
one man through, and the three children arrived on our side.”
“What happened to your man?” asked Ridgeway.
Land shook her head.
“Then we had an energy spike,” continued Hodge. “And the
machine destroyed itself.”
One more thing occurred to Martin. “How far into the future
am I from?”
“We don’t know,” said Land. “But if you let us, we can try
to find out.”
Martin and Ridgeway exchanged glances.
“Alright,” said Martin. “Take me to the core.”
The team passed through an entire array of security zones.
Martin observed Land using a number pad, her fingerprints, a pass-card, an iris
scan, and, lastly, a key from a chain around her neck to reach the inner bay of
the core.
They stepped onto a platform that hung over a vast empty
space. The walls were smooth and white, and there was nothing to indicate
scale. Martin got dizzy looking at it.
“It’ll take a second,” said Land, who seemed unsteady
herself. “It happens every time. Hodge?”
“It’s almost two million cubic meters,” the scientist
confirmed.
“There’s no machine,” observed Martin when he regained his
bearings.
“The machine is built around the Core,” said Ridgeway. “The
control room, if I recall correctly, should be directly below us.”
Hodge held out his hand to show the way. “Down here.”
They followed his direction and arrived in the nerve center
of Nautilus Base. The room was filled with computer screens, but there was no
sign of human activity at the moment.
“Where is the crew?” asked Ridgeway.
“They’ve been kept in the dark about the next step,” said
Land. “The fewer people who know about Lt. Martin, the better.”
“I feel safer already,” said Martin, with his eyes locked on
a metal chair in the corner of the lab. It was set on a raised platform, and
there were white ceramic shackles on the arms and legs. “That’s where the calibration happens, I’m
guessing,” he said, pointing with his chin.
“It’s perfectly painless,” said Hodge.
“Think of an ultrasound,” said Land.
“Would you, please?” asked Hodge, indicating toward the
chair.
“Alright,” said Martin. “Here goes nothing.”
He sat down, and Hodge drew closer to latch the restraints
closed.
“No,” Martin interrupted. “If you don’t mind, Ridgeway, I’d
like you to strap me in.”
Ridgeway laughed nervously, but performed the task. “All
good?” she asked when she was finished.
Martin wriggled his hands and feet against the straps. “All
good.”
“This is just the first part of the experiment,” said Land.
“Nothing will happen in the core, and we won’t run the machine. We’re just
going to get some readouts on the screen here.”
Martin realized, suddenly, that even though he was here,
confined to a chair in the heart of a top secret lab that was floating as far
from land as somebody could get, he didn’t have any more questions. He began to
feel a measure of excitement, even.
“Let’s go,” he told the others.
Hodge pressed a button. For almost a second, nothing happened.
Then a high-pitched whine began, coming from something hidden behind the bank
of computers.
“Shut it down!” said Land urgently. “Cut the power!”
No. 322B
CYOA2 Part 7 Alternate
March 15, 2013
“No,” said Martin. “What you’re saying is insane.” He stood
up and slammed his fist down on the table. “I want proof. Right now.”
“Calm down,” whispered Ridgeway.
Martin turned on her. “Did you know about this the whole
time? Are you some kind of babysitter they sent along?”
“Hold on,” said Land. “Relax. I know this comes as a shock.”
“You!” Martin shouted, his attention now focused on the
Nautilus crew. “You, Captain, and Hodge. What kind of sick experiments are you
running here?”
He lunged at Land, but his foot caught on his overturned
chair.
Ridgeway watched in horror as Martin fell forward. His head
struck the corner of the table with a sickening smack and his limp body
collapsed to the floor.
Hodge was the first to reach him. “He’s dead,” was the confirmation.
Captain Land put her head in her hands. “Can we still use
the body for calibration?”
No. 333A
CYOA2 Part 8
March 19, 2013
Hodge slammed his fist down on the emergency button and all
the computers in the lab went dark. The noise continued, though.
“I don’t know what else I can do,” he said through clenched
teeth. “Everything should be off.”
“I’d really like to
get out of the chair now,” Martin said quietly.
Land and Ridgeway rushed to unlock the restraints.
“It’s not working,” said Ridgeway, with real fear in her
voice. “They’re fused shut.”
From somewhere, out in the Core, an alarm began to sound.
Hodge’s head snapped toward the sound. “Oh no,” he said.
“That’s the field-detection alert.”
Every light in the lab went out, plunging the group into
complete darkness.
Land was the first to understand. “We’ve jumpstarted the
reaction. The experiment’s begun.”
Martin was struggling against the restraints. “Something’s
going to happen. I can feel it.”
A blinding flash of energy from the Core strobed through the
windows. Everyone in the lab watched the giant space fill with light. The
smooth walls intensified the reaction like a lens, and the roiling tendrils of
lightning soon congealed into a stable glowing ball, bright with power.
The manacles on Martin’s chair popped open and he slumped to
the floor.
“He’s exhausted,” Ridgeway reported from his side. She put
her head on his chest. “There’s a strong heartbeat. I think he’s sleeping.”
“Amazing,” whispered Land, who was captivated by the
time-barrier. “It worked. After so
long.”
Hodge rushed to reboot the master computer. He studied the
read-outs intently. “Levels are holding. The barrier appears to be stable. I
don’t know how the reaction started without the proper procedure, though.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Land, distantly. “We’ve got it
now.”
“Should we send in the probe?” the swarthy scientist asked.
“Of course,” replied the Captain. “Immediately.”
Hodge punched in the command and a hatch opened in the wall
of the Core. A small drone was launched into the barrier. It disappeared into
the light without leaving as much as a ripple in the surface.
Data streamed back onto Hodge’s screen. “We’ll know very
shortly if we’ve been successful.”
Moments later though, the drone reappeared in the Core.
“Why did you bring it back?” Land demanded.
Hodge’s face turned a shade of ashen gray. “I didn’t,” he
said. “It came out right where we sent it. Five seconds into the future.”
Then another drone emerged.
“What’s happening?” Ridgeway asked.
Hodge began to shake with fear. “That one’s not ours.”
Martin woke up with a start. “I can feel it all over,” he
said from what sounded like a long ways away. “The barrier is vibrating. We
haven’t got much time.”
No. 333B
CYOA2 Part 8 Alternate
March 19, 2013
Hodge slammed his fist down on the emergency button and all
the computers in the lab went dark. The room was eerily silent.
“I’d really like to get out of the chair now,” Martin said
quietly.
Land and Ridgeway rushed to unlock the restraints. As soon
as Martin was loose, he jumped free and hustled to the far side of the lab.
“What was that all about?” Land asked Hodge.
The swarthy scientist was examining a print-out from a
machine close to the chair. “There’s a problem with the data,” he reported.
“How big of a problem?” Land pressed.
“Martin isn’t the key,” Hodge concluded.
“Can that be right?” Land said. There was a touch of
disbelief in her voice.
“It is,” said Hodge, peering at the paper. “In fact,
according to this, if we use him, it will be more like putting a lock on the
process.”
Martin spoke up from the corner. “Hey, guys? I don’t feel
too good.”
Ridgeway was at his side immediately. “What’s wrong?”
Martin fell to his knees. “My insides feel all queasy,” he
gasped, holding himself tightly around the belly.
From somewhere, out in the Core, an alarm began to sound.
Hodge’s head snapped toward the sound. “Oh no,” he said.
“That’s the field-detection alert.”
Every light in the lab went out, plunging the group into
complete darkness.
Martin began to scream. “It burns!”
A blinding flash of energy from the Core strobed through the
windows. Land and Hodge watched in horror as the shatter-proof glass was
shattered and Martin was pulled back toward the light. Ridgeway tried to grab
his arm, but she was too slow.
When Martin hit the center of the blazing ball, the reaction
suddenly quit, leaving the survivors unable to see, again. But they all heard
the impact as the Lieutenant’s body fell to the floor of the Core, far below.
Emergency lights came on, casting a dirty yellow glow. One
by one, the computers began to reboot. Hodge started to access the Core’s
sensors to find out what had just happened. He soon had his answers.
“We’re finished,” he said. “The time barrier will never open
again. We’d configured incorrectly. Martin wasn’t from the future. He was from
the past.”
No. 334A
CYOA2 Part 9
March 21, 2013
“What is he talking about?” Land asked Ridgeway and Hodge.
“Not sure,” said Hodge, hurriedly. His attention was focused
on the foreign drone that was approaching the lab. “That’s the more immediate
threat,” he said, pointing.
Martin grabbed Hodge’s arm. “No. The barrier is. There’s
something wrong with it.”
Hodge shook our of Martin’s grip. Keeping one eye on the
foreign drone, he punched a command into the computer. The original drone disappeared back into the
barrier. “You’re right,” he whispered to Martin.
“What is it?” Land demanded.
“The information I’m getting back says that the drone’s gone
further into the future this time,” said Hodge. “Seventy-five years.” Then his
eyes widened. “Wait. Now it says forty minutes. Changing to a year. Now five.
Now a month.” He turned to the others. “It’s doesn’t just go to one time.”
As he finished saying the words, the circumference of the
time-barrier increased suddenly, engulfing the mysterious drone and penetrating
the walls of the lab. Ridgeway, who was standing closest to the windows,
disappeared into the portal.
It collapsed in on itself just as quickly, returning to its
former state, floating in the middle of the Core.
The three left behind stared blankly at the empty space.
Martin recovered first. “I’m going in,” he said. Before
anyone could stop him, he grabbed a pistol from the Captain’s holster, and had
leapt off the observation deck into the barrier.
He hit the ground hard. Rolling upright, he found himself
still in the massive bay. He wasn’t alone though. He was surrounded by a ring
of armed troops. All of them had their guns trained on him.
“Get up,” said the leader.
Martin followed the order.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“The same place you left two years ago,” replied a familiar
voice. The statement echoed through the Core.
“Hodge?” said Martin, straining to see into the lab. “Did
Ridgeway make it here?”
There was a sinister laugh. “She did,” said Hodge. “About
six months ago. You’ll meet her again shortly.”
“I need to get her and go back through,” Martin told him. He
finally saw the scientist. He began to get a very bad feeling.
The last two years had been unkind to Hodge. Martin saw a
large scar running up the man’s face, and one of his hands had been replaced by
a crude metal hook. What stood out the most was Captain Land’s hat perched
jauntily on Hodge’s head.
“Where’s the Captain?” Martin asked. “She’ll back me up.”
“Oh yes,” said Hodge, scratching his chin with the hook.
“The Captain. Well, it seems that soon after the barrier opened, she had an
accident. I command the Nautilus now.”
One of the guards nudged Martin with the barrel of a gun.
The prisoner was marched back to the cabin he’d been held in when he’d arrived
on Nautilus. The journey was much different now, with various parts of the base
having been patched and ruined, as if a battle had taken place. Particularly
gruesome were a number of man-sized scorch marks in the main passageway.
Martin’s cell had seen the door replaced with crudely welded bars. Martin was
thrown in, and left by himself.
It was three days before he saw anybody again.
Hodge appeared, whistling as he approached.
“Why?” Martin asked when Hodge stepped in front of the bars.
Hodge didn’t answer. Instead, he drew a pair of handcuffs
from his belt and motioned for Martin to turn around. Once Martin was shackled,
Hodge put his hook through the links on the handcuff chain and pulled the
prisoner along with him.
“Where are we going?” Martin demanded.
“You’ll see,” said Hodge.
Martin was taken to another control room, one that was on
the far side of the Core. Instead of computers, this one had more industrial
machines. There were large switches and levers everywhere. Hodge sat Martin
down on a bare metal bench.
“Now,” said the villain. “Now you’ll help me with my true
experiment.”
“I won’t do anything until I see Ridgeway,” Martin told him
defiantly.
“Very well,” said Hodge. “She’s over there.” He pointed with
his hook. Ridgeway was indeed there. She was strapped to a chair very much like
the one the Martin had been in when the barrier first appeared.
“Why is she in the chair?” asked Martin.
Hodge laughed his devious laugh. “She’s my calibration,” he
said with a cackle. “Oh, that’s right. You still think you’re the reason the
barrier opened in your time. No, sorry. That was me. Or, it will be in about
ten minutes here. It didn’t start early at all. I opened it to the past.”
“Remember when Land
told you about the three people who came through the portal at Chernobyl? How
one returned to their time? That was me. You, me, and the girl, we were all
ripped from our homes and sent back. Thirty-six hours to be precise. They
didn’t know how close the ends were, then.”
“It was only a little more than a day?” asked Martin.
“Correct,” nodded Hodge.
“And Ridgeway helps you how?” Martin pressed.
Hodge grinned. “I’m not going to use myself as a guinea pig,
am I? I needed somebody else. Since there were only three people who are up to
the task, my other options are clear, aren’t they?”
Martin realized what he was saying. “But she died,” he said.
“Land told us the third girl died.”
“And just who do you think told Land?”
“So that whole time you worked on the experiment, you were
planning this? To kidnap me and Ridgeway?”
“No,” said Hodge. “I worked here the whole time so that I
could rule the world. With a functioning and properly calibrated time-machine,
I have ultimate power.”
“I’ll save Ridgeway,” Martin told him, with cold resolve in
his eyes. “And I’m going to stop you.”
No. 334B
CYOA2 Part 9 Alternate
March 21, 2013
“What is he talking about?” Land asked Ridgeway and Hodge.
“Not sure,” said Hodge, hurriedly. His attention was focused
on the foreign drone that was approaching the lab. “That’s the more immediate
threat,” he said, pointing.
The drone was close, now. The whine of its engines could be
heard through the thick glass of the observation windows.
“It looks like ours,” said Ridgeway. “Can you stop it?”
Hodge was too busy entering commands into the computer to
reply. “Ah ha!” he cried out as a screen changed color from yellow to green.
The drone’s flight path wobbled slightly.
“I think I’ve got it,” said Hodge.
They were his last words. The drone smashed through the
window, the computer, and Hodge before burying itself in the bulkhead on the
far side of the room. There was no explosion, but deep, black smoke began to
billow out of the wreck.
The fire suppression system in the lab kicked in, flooding
the chamber with inert gas.
“Come on,” Land ordered. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Ridgeway gathered Martin to his feet and she and the Captain
carried him toward the exit. None of the party noticed that behind them in the
Core, without a hand on the controls, the time-barrier was expanding.
The group was just exiting the security zone around the Core
when the first blast rocked the Nautilus.
Captain Land turned white. “It’s happening again,” she
whispered.
Martin, who had regained his senses, grabbed her arm. “You
can sound the evacuation alarm. We may lose the Base, but we’ll live.”
Ridgeway joined him in reassuring Land. “We just need to get
to the bridge.”
Another detonation rocked the vessel. This one was bigger
than the first.
“We need to hurry, though,” Ridgeway told the Captain.
“Martin? Can you get her other arm?”
There was no reply.
“Martin?” Ridgeway repeated.
Hearing nothing, she turned around.
Martin was dead. The last explosion had driven a metal beam
straight through his chest.
No. 335A
CYOA2 Part 10
March 22, 2013
A guard approached Hodge with a status report. Martin
watched the guard carefully. There was something about the man’s demeanor that
made him seem vulnerable. Martin saw Hodge give the guard an order. As the
guard turned to leave the room, Martin understood what his captor’s weakness
was. Hodge was a scientist, not a soldier. If he’d been commanding the rogue
staff of the Nautilus for two years, their training wouldn’t be as efficient as
it could be. Martin knew the advantage in a straight fight would be his.
All he needed was a distraction. Hodge seemed like a talker.
Maybe that would work. “Do you remember coming through the time-barrier all
those years ago?” he asked the scientist.
Hodge turned to face the prisoner. He shrugged. “I was
young, then, only nine. One minute I was at home, the next I was in a strange
place, like a factory. Somebody with a gun threatened me, and I tried to run,
only to stumble back into a giant light. I thought I’d fallen in fire. But,
instead, I was home. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost a year had passed. My
mother had died in that time, and my father had started drinking.”
“I see,” said
Martin, as he struggled surreptitiously to escape from the handcuffs. “Do you
know what happened to the man that was sent from the Chernobyl side?”
“Yes,” said Hodge. “I killed him. He would have been the
only other person who knew that we weren’t from the distant future. If he had
reported back to the people in charge of the time-barrier, they would have
hunted me down and prevented me from achieving this,” he concluded with a grandiose
sweep of his hook.
Martin had freed himself from the cuffs and made his move
while Hodge was mid-swing. He dove at the smaller man, tackling him to the
ground while at the same time trying to avoid the dangerous pointed claw.
“Ridgeway,” he shouted. “Hold on.”
Ridgeway shook her arm weakly against her restraints. “No
problem,” she said sarcastically.
Hodge was quickly subdued, but before Martin could free
Ridgeway, the guard returned. He saw Hodge on the ground and turned his gun
immediately toward Martin.
“Freeze,” was the unoriginal command.
Martin slowly raised his hands. At the same time, he was
able to take an extra step toward the guard without being noticed.
Ridgeway saw martin move forward and created her own
distraction.
“Look out!” she cried from the chair. The guard’s head
snapped toward the sound while Martin lunged forward to grab the gun. Once the
guard was disarmed, he too was tied up next to Hodge.
Martin released Ridgeway. She gave him a light kiss on the
cheek.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Martin told her. “We’re still not
where we’re supposed to be.”
They turned back to confront Hodge, but he was missing.
Martin pointed the gun at the remaining guard. “Which way did he go?”
The guard gave up the information without hesitation.
“Toward the bridge. There’s a master-control for the Core that’s been installed
there.”
“Can you walk?” Martin asked Ridgeway.
She took the gun off him and cocked it aggressively. “No
problem,” she told him. Then she swung the butt of the rifle into the guard’s
face, knocking him out. She shrugged at Martin. “They weren’t very nice,” she
explained. “Let’s go finish off that maniac.”
The bridge was dark and silent when they approached. The
giant holograph had been replaced by a hastily installed booth. Great snakes of
wires flowed into the base across the previously uncluttered deck.
“I think we found him,” Martin whispered.
Ridgeway pulled the trigger and sent a hail of bullets
toward the compartment. The assault seemed to do very little in the way of
damage.
“Cover me,” said Martin. “I’m going to get closer.”
He made it to within an arm’s length of the target when the
lights came on, catching him mid-stride.
“You’ve made a mistake,” Hodge’s voice mocked over the
intercom. “Your friend just shot up the Nautilus’ guidance computer. We had
some problems with the old one, so we had to make do with what we had on board.
Lack of parts, and all that. I’m sure we could get some more from the mainland
with a convincing enough story. But, for now, I think, we’ll be stuck on a
course for the ocean bottom.”
“Where is he?” Martin called to Ridgeway.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t see him.”
Martin ran back up to Ridgeway. “We may have already won,”
he told her quietly. “There’s no point chasing him all over the base.”
She understood. “If we can escape, he’ll die when the
Nautilus implodes at crush-depth. We don’t have to fight him.”
Martin raised his voice again, for the benefit of their
unseen observer. “Where are you, Hodge? We’re coming for you.”
A disgusting cackle echoed out of the speakers. “You won’t
find me. And I’ve got full control of the barrier. Come on, Lieutenant, do your
worst.”
Ridgeway and Martin made a show of leaving the bridge. “Are
there escape pods?” he asked her once they were out of range.
“Better,” she told him. “Follow me.”
Together, they ran down the passageways of the sinking base.
They began to hear ominous creaks and popping noises as the vessel descended.
Luckily, their path didn’t take them near the Core, and so they did not have to
deal with the security layers to get to their objective.
“Through here,” Ridgeway told Martin as they arrived at a
seemingly nondescript hatch at the end of a corridor. They stepped inside and
Martin almost lost his balance when he saw what was on the other side.
The “escape pod” on Nautilus Base was actually a full-sized
submarine.
“Can we handle that?” Martin asked, still amazed by the
sight.
“Yes,” Ridgeway confirmed. “It’s heavily automated, for
emergencies. It only needs a crew of two, but can carry up to fifty people.”
“’Dakkar’,” Martin read the name painted in ornate letters
on the side of the sleek boat. “Fits the theme,” he remarked with a grin.
“Stop wasting time,” Ridgeway told him. “Let’s go.”
They clambered up the narrow ladder to the boarding hatch
and made their way inside. They strapped in, and initiated the sequence to
eject.
They heard the outer doors of the Nautilus open, and water
rush in.
Then they were free.
The radio began to crackle, and a familiar voice filled the
Dakkar. “You’re getting away,” screamed Hodge. “Cowards! You won’t defeat me! I
am the master of time!”
Martin laughed. “For about another minute, Hodge, and then
you’ll be crushed.”
Ridgeway was less impressed. “’Master of Time?’” she replied
with a smirk. “That’s what you’re going to go with?”
Martin pulled her toward him and shut off the radio. “Come
on,” he said. “It’s poor form to taunt the condemned.”
Sure enough, a minute later, Martin and Hodge heard the
Nautilus implode, destroying everything still on board.
“Do you think he made it out?” asked Martin. “Or to another
time?”
“No,” said Ridgeway. “He wouldn’t be able to control the
barrier without one of us to calibrate it. Or,” she said, pausing for effect.
“Without this.” She pulled a peculiar-looking circuit board from her waistband.
“They only had one on board. Funny, though, I specifically outlined that
vulnerability in my initial report on the project.”
Three weeks later, Martin and Ridgeway were standing in the
Oval Office.
“Thank you for sacrificing two years of your lives to save
the world,” said the President as he handed them their medals.
“You’re welcome, Sir,” said Martin. “But I just have one
question. Did you know that I came from the future when you sent me on the
mission?”
“No, he didn’t,” said a voice from just outside the room.
The speaker stepped through the door. “But I did,” he said just as Ridgeway and
Martin recognized him. “Nautilus Base was my idea, too,” said another Martin.
“Where did you come from?” the first Martin demanded.
“From thirty-six hours before you were sent back,” answered
the doppelganger. “And, by the way, instead of asking pointless questions, why
don’t you give Holly a kiss?”
“Good idea,” said Martin, who took his own advice.
No. 335B
CYOA2 Part 10 Alternate
March 22, 2013
A guard approached Hodge with a status report. Martin
watched the guard carefully. There was something about the man’s demeanor that
made him seem vulnerable. Martin saw Hodge give the guard an order. As the
guard turned to leave the room, Martin understood what his captor’s weakness
was. Hodge was a scientist, not a soldier. If he’d been commanding the rogue
staff of the Nautilus for two years, their training wouldn’t be as efficient as
it could be. Martin knew the advantage in a straight fight would be his.
All he needed was a distraction. Hodge seemed like a talker.
Maybe that would work. “Do you remember coming through the time-barrier all
those years ago?” he asked the scientist.
Hodge turned to face the prisoner. He shrugged. “I was
young, then, only nine. One minute I was at home, the next I was in a strange
place, like a factory. Somebody with a gun threatened me, and I tried to run,
only to stumble back into a giant light. I thought I’d fallen in fire. But,
instead, I was home. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost a year had passed. My
mother had died in that time, and my father had started drinking.”
“I see,” said
Martin, as he struggled surreptitiously to escape from the handcuffs. “Do you
know what happened to the man that was sent from the Chernobyl side?”
“Yes,” said Hodge. “I killed him. He would have been the
only other person who knew that we weren’t from the distant future. If he had
reported back to the people in charge of the time-barrier, they would have
hunted me down and prevented me from achieving this,” he concluded with a
grandiose sweep of his hook.
Martin had freed himself from the cuffs and made his move
while Hodge was mid-swing. He dove at the smaller man, tackling him to the
ground while at the same time trying to avoid the dangerous pointed claw.
“Ridgeway,” he shouted. “Hold on.”
Ridgeway shook her arm weakly against her restraints. “No
problem,” she said sarcastically.
Hodge was quickly subdued. Martin ran to the door to make
sure the guard wasn’t on his way back, then he released Ridgeway. She gave him
a light kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Martin told her. “We’re still not
where we’re supposed to be.”
Hodge was screaming at them from the floor. “Cowards! You
won’t defeat me! I am the master of time!”
Martin laughed. “You aren’t two years ago. I’m going back,
and we’ll make sure you don’t get the chance to get close to the Core again.”
Ridgeway was less impressed. “’Master of Time?’” she said
with a smirk. “That’s what you’re going to go with?”
Martin pulled her toward him. “Come on,” he said. “We can
taunt him in the past.”
She didn’t disagree, but she gave Hodge a swift kick on the
way out. The pair hurried down the stairs toward the shining barrier.
“Are you sure this is the way back?” she asked Martin right
before the passed through it.
Martin checked his watch. “He said it would line up with the
day we left in ten minutes, ten minutes ago.”
“Okay,” said Ridgeway.
They stepped forward together.
They arrived in the past instantly. But there was a problem.
“Where’s the Nautilus?” asked Martin, confused.
Ridgeway surveyed the dense jungle that surrounded them. “I
think we’ve gone back too far.”
“How far do you think?”
Ridgeway lowered her voice abruptly before she answered.
“All the way back,” she whispered. “Judging from that Tyrannosaurus,” she
finished, pointing at the fearsome beast.
The Tyrannosaurus saw the pair and turned to attack.
“I hope ‘Jurassic Park’ was right about staying still,”
Martin hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
But “Jurassic Park” was incorrect. The dinosaur closed the
distance in no time. Ridgeway was the first to go, swallowed in one swift
motion. Martin was less lucky. He felt the Tyrannosaurus’ teeth grip him around
the belly and rip him in half. He watched his legs go down the monster’s throat
before he bled to death, sixty-five million years before he was born.
No. 336
March 23, 2013
The fire had jumped across the valley, and now formed an
impenetrable wall around all four sides of the stranded group of hikers. Crews
were trying desperately to reach them, but were driven away by the heat. The
last option was a water-bomber dump directly on the hikers’ position in an
attempt to suppress the flames long enough to reach the trapped party.
“Base, this is Dragon 768. We are on approach to the target.
Confirm release at grid 27?”
“Roger, Dragon. Grid 27.”
Mike Harrison keyed the radio toggle again. “Copy, Base.
We’re going in.” He pushed the control column forward and the enormous plane
began its run.
The hot air rising off of the fire made for a bumpy ride.
“Wait until I give the call before hitting the release,”
Harrison told his co-pilot, Andrew “Ace” Carol. “They don’t have time for us to
go back and refill.”
“Gotcha,” said Ace in his usual laid-back manner.
Harrison often remarked that, when Ace wasn’t flying, it was
hard to tell if he was alive.
Ace claimed “energy conservation”, if he defended himself at
all.
The aircraft was seconds from releasing its liquid cargo
when Ace sounded the alarm. “Fire warning on the number two engine,” he called,
simultaneously pulling the extinguisher handle.
Before Harrison had a chance to respond, Ace made another
announcement.
“Fire in number one, too.”
“Leave it,” Harrison commanded. “We need to make the drop.
Get ready.”
The hikers watched the plane fly toward them. One wing was
trailing a cloud of dark smoke. The aircraft started to wobble as it got
closer. Then the belly opened up and released the water over the fire. Several
of the hikers were knocked down by the deluge.
“We’re empty,” Harrison shouted. “Cut the engine.”
Ace did as he was told, and the plane lurched sideways as it
lost thrust on one side.
Harrison saw the problem immediately. “I can’t correct. We
don’t have enough altitude. Hold on.”
Rescue crews reached the hikers just as the bomber hit the
ground. Luckily, it crashed just ahead of the fire.
Harrison lifted his head and looked at the shattered
flightdeck. He couldn’t quite remember what had just happened. He felt someone
pulling at his shoulder strap and looked slowly in that direction.
It was Ace, who had a nasty gash over his eye, but otherwise
seemed to be in good shape.
“We need to go,” he told Harrison. “The tail’s already going
up. I don’t want to get cooked.”
No. 337
March 24, 2013-03-24
The International Space Station had been taken over in an
act of cunning treachery. The crewmember responsible, a sleeper agent, was now
threatening, for reasons known only to her, to crash the space lab into a major
city.
Lex Orbis had been called on to retake the ISS. He was
currently stuffed into a Soyuz capsule, approaching the Station at thousands of
kilometers per hour. The plan was that Orbis, once in range, would leap out
into space and enter the station through the airlock.
At the appointed time, Orbis zipped up his spacesuit and
turned to shake hands with the other man in the capsule. “Wish me luck, Boris,”
he told the Russian, who, incidentally, knew no English. Then Orbis threw open
the hatch and jumped.
Floating free across the void, Orbis had time only to wonder
if, perhaps, the taser he’d brought along with him would be enough to subdue
the rogue astronaut.
Seconds later, he hit the side of the ISS and grabbed a
support. He clambered over the surface, trying to avoid passing over any windows.
He reached the outer door and pulled the emergency handle to let himself in. It
worked, and Orbis was soon safely inside.
Now came the hard part of the mission. He’d been told that
the mutineer had smuggled a gun on board, and was willing to use it, despite
the risk of puncturing the hull. As soon as Orbis unlocked the inner airlock,
he’d have mere moments to make his move.
Drawing the taser, he took a deep breath, then kicked the
hatch open and dove through.
There was nobody there. All the lights were off and the
entire capsule was lit by the glow of a single computer screen. Orbis floated
slowly through the empty modules, making sure he was the only person aboard.
When he returned to the computer, the display had changed.
There was a message on it.
MISSED ME ORBIS
WE LEFT IN THE EMERGENCY POD
ISS HAS BEEN DISABLED
YOU HAVE SEVEN MINUTES UNTIL RE-ENTRY
LOVE ALWAYS
–S
“Curses!” Orbis swore. They hadn’t told him his opponent’s
name. It was Sabrina, Orbis’ old nemesis.
He threw the taser across the compartment angrily, and
looked for a way to reboot the guidance system.
Failing to find one, he went with the only other option he
could think of. Returning to the airlock, he swiftly cleared both doors and
crouched on the lip of the outer hatch, watching the world spin beneath him.
“Boris,” he called over his radio. “I’m going to need a
pick-up.”
Then he jumped back out into the void.
No. 338
March 25, 2013
Fox’s Landing wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t a large
town, either. Every resident could gather in the square with plenty of space
left for visitors.
I can’t tell you what possessed me to stop there that night.
I saw the glowing “Vacancy” sign in the window of the motel and pulled over.
The morning was cold. I was the only one in the street. I’d
asked the man at the front desk where I might find a cup of coffee and he’d
told me to head three blocks “toward the bridge” to Dana’s Coffee. Of course, I
had no idea where the bridge was, so I made an assumption and walked downhill.
It was unsteady going. There was a thin layer of ice on
every surface. I stopped myself from falling more than once, but I eventually
found the right storefront.
The hours on the window said Dana’s was open, but the door
was locked. I rubbed my hands together and knocked. After a moment’s wait, it
opened. I was greeted by a girl who appeared to be no more than seventeen years
old.
“Are you open?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Come on in. You must be from out of town.”
“How’d you guess?”
“All the regulars come in through the kitchen until at least
ten.”
I peered over her shoulder. It must have been true. I
counted at least four other people sitting at a table in the middle of the shop.
“Come in,” she told me. “What can I get started for you?”
I looked briefly at the menu above the counter, but went
with my gut. “Black coffee, please. Dark roast, if there’s a choice.”
“Sit anywhere you like,” the girl told me as she went to get
my drink.
One of the men at the table motioned for me to join them.
“Welcome to Landing,” he told me. “Don’t worry. Dana will have your drink real
soon and you won’t have to stay for too long.”
“That’s Dana?” I asked, nodding at the girl.
“Sure is,” said another man. “This is her place.”
He saw the surprise on my face.
“She’s older than she looks.”
Dana returned with my cup. She gave the men an exaggerated
roll of her eyes. “Are you spreading lies about me, again?”
“No, Dana. We were just telling the visitor here that you’re
ninety-five years old.”
She looked at me. “Twenty-four,” she said. “It’s a game they
like to play.” She gave me the coffee and turned back to the regulars. “I don’t
want to have to ban you all for the third time.”
They laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll be good.”
She returned to the kitchen.
“She’ll do it, too,” the second man admitted to me.
“I’ll bet,” I said. I sipped my drink. The coffee was good.
Maybe I had time for one more before I got back on the road.
No. 339
March 26, 2013
If it wasn’t the coldest day of the year, it was close. We
were at Dana’s, like usual, when there was a knock at the door.
“Tourist,” said Bill Worsley.
I nodded. Nobody from Fox’s Landing comes through the front
door at Dana’s. I sipped my tea and watched to see the stranger enter.
As Dana passed us to open up, she pointed and half-whispered
a warning. “Be nice.”
You listen to a girl like Dana.
“Welcome to Landing,” I told our guest after he got in and
shook himself off. The man had a hungry look about him. Maybe he’d been on the
road too long. It’s a drive from anywhere to Landing. I suppose that’s why we
like it here.
He resisted the urge
to get some kind of fancy drink, though. I think Dana respects the ones who
order regular.
The man seemed surprised to hear that Dana ran the store.
Maybe we all got used to her being on her own after her parents died. It
doesn’t seem like so long ago if you think about it, but time passes slower
here. There’s less ways to fill it. It’s been five years since she opened the
Coffee shop.
Bill started winding the man up. Like I said, there’s less
ways to fill time here. Dana caught him just before he got to the punch line,
like we haven’t heard it all a hundred times before. “No, Dana, We were just
telling the visitor here that you’re ninety-five years old.”
So she threatened to ban us for a third time. At least this
one wouldn’t be my fault.
Audrey Harris asked the man’s name.
“James Docker,” he
said as he pulled his chair a little closer to the table. It was our cue to
introduce ourselves.
Bill went first, being the talkative one.
I followed. “Frank Macklin.”
Docker’s handshake was solid.
Emily Wills said her name, but so quietly that I don’t think
Mr. Docker heard. In any case, he called her “Emmy” directly after.
Oddly, Dana didn’t come back from the kitchen very quickly
after bringing Docker’s coffee.
Sometimes she gets like that. I have a feeling she’s embarrassed that
she looks so young. But that’s my granddaughter for you.
With introductions complete, we settled back in to our
conversation. I kept my eye on Docker.
You can tell the moment that somebody decides to stay in
Landing. For our new friend it was just after his second cup. I think I knew it
before he did.
No. 340
March 27, 2013
Lex Orbis is the world’s (1) best
spy. Last year he stopped (2) three attempts
to take over the (3) world, and seven (4) mad-scientists with (5) doomsday
devices.
His (6) greatest foe, by
far, is Sabrina. Sabrina is a (7) deadly
assassin whose (8) hatred for Orbis is
tempered only by her (9) twisted love.
Their first encounter was in a (10) small
(11) cafe in (12) Switzerland.
Lex was on a case and Sabrina was (13) planning
her first (14) mission.
Throughout their careers, their paths have crossed many
times. Every meeting is more (15) violent
than the last. Most recently, Sabrina left Lex stranded on (16) the International Space Station.
It was only with the help of a (17) Russian
(18) astronaut that Orbis was able to (19) escape by the skin of his teeth.
Orbis has tracked Sabrina to her hideout. In order to get
in, he must first (20) put on a (21) disguise and then (22) overpower
the guards. The battle will not be easy. She is waiting for him, and she’s just
as (23) clever as he is.
No. 341
March 28, 2013
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” said the butler who had
answered the door of the stately home.
I was confused. “This isn’t 1947 Albert Crescent?” I asked
one last time, to be sure. I’d been trying to get a straight answer for almost
ten minutes.
The butler took the ornate card with the numbers listed on
it from my hand and examined it. His inspection included turning it over and,
oddly, sniffing it. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “What I can tell you is that
1944 Albert Crescent used to be directly across the way. They pulled that
building down some years ago. Maybe that’s the one you’re confused about.”
I looked where he directed. There was only an overgrown lot
with an old concrete foundation in the center. “Thanks,” I told him. “Maybe
I’ll try to call somebody.”
The door closed, and I was left alone on the porch. I was
almost certain that I had the right place. It’s true, there were no house
numbers on the exterior, but it was the only structure on the street and the
butler’s “across-the-road” story seemed dodgy. What was stranger still was that
I hadn’t even told the man why I was looking for 1947 before he’d turned
twitchy and nervous.
I had a gold coin in my backpack, as well as written instructions
on exactly when and how to deliver it. I only I had to find the location to
deliver it to. The person who’d given it to me had been very, very specific.
When the phone number I’d be given connected directly with a
“not in service” message, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I’d been duped. There had never been 1947 Albert Crescent,
just an elaborate ruse to lure me here.
I heard a rustle in the bushes.
The door seemed very far away, now. I broke into a run,
screaming as loudly as I could and hoping that the butler would hear me.
No. 342
March 30, 2013
“Honey, I just got back from the post office,” said Alan
Mersey. “I picked up your package, but I think they sent the wrong book.”
Kyla Mersey looked around the corner from the upstairs
office. “What did we get?”
Alan checked the title one more time, just to be sure.
“’Care and Feeding of the African Banded Pit-Viper’,” he told her.
“Wow,” she said. “That’s not even close.”
“Can we return it?” Alan asked as he came up the stairs.
Kyla clicked around on the sender’s website for a moment,
reading the terms and conditions. “No,” she said, finding the relevant
information. “Since we ordered during a sale.”
“Is there anything at all that we can do?” Alan pressed.
Kyla shrugged. “We could buy an African Banded Pit-Viper.”
Alan leaned forward, intrigued. “How much is one of those?”
Twelve-to-fourteen business-days later, a courier arrived at
the Mersey’s front door. “I’ve got an animal here for you,” she said when Alan
opened it. “Just sign here.”
Alan did so, and a medium-sized box was handed over.
“Thanks,” he told the departing messenger.
“Be careful when you open it,” said Kyla, with the book in
hand. “It’s highly venomous.”
Alan was, and soon had the lid ready to be opened. Slowly,
he and Kyla lifted the cover up.
“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Alan. “This is ridiculous.”
Inside the container was not the expected reptile, but a
small, furry creature.
“Wombat,” said Kyla, correctly identifying the Mersey’s new
pet.
No. 343
March 31, 2013
The light in the old hangar cast a sickly yellow glow on the
two occupants. Rain lashed the tin roof, the first sign of an approaching
storm. All flights at the airport had been cancelled, leaving an old man and a
young man to take shelter and wait.
“Have you heard of the ghost plane, boy?” asked the old man.
“Every year, on the same night, a fog rolls in from the ocean and the runway
lights dim. Then a plane comes in to land.
“We don’t see it on the radar and, when it rolls to a stop,
it vanishes. We can never prove it arrived. But it comes.
“Some say it’s Amelia Earhart returning home. Others say
it’s the last man back from the lost Flight 19. I can’t rightly say who, or
what it could be. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up.”
“I’m not afraid,” said the young man.
“No, not now, you aren’t. But the first time you hear that
engine, and every time after that, you will be.”
No. 344
April 1, 2013
“Tell me a story,” said little Brian Sanderson. “A good
one.”
His older sister, Amy, sighed. “Again?” she asked. “I just
told you one last night.”
“Yeah,” agreed Brian. “But it was crap.”
Amy nodded. He was right, but she didn’t want to have to
actually say the words. “Ok,” she conceded. “Give me a second to think.”
Brian waited patiently, eyes fixed on his sister.
She began.
“Steve could hear the monster chewing, deep within the
cave.”
“Cool!” Brian interrupted. “Is it eating a dude?”
“Let me get started!” Amy insisted. “You’ll find out!”
The story continued.
“And Steve knew the gruesome noises were all that were left
of his friend David.”
“Gross!” said Brian.
“Steve was sure that he had only minutes to live. He
struggled against the rocks that pinned him to the floor of the cavern.”
“I’d chew my leg off to escape,” added Brian.
Amy’s eyes widened. “You’re disgusting!”
“What?” said Brian. “I would. Wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
“Will Steve?”
“What did I say about listening?” Amy scolded. “Anyway.
Steve was sure that he had only minutes to live.”
“You said that part already,” Brian reminded her,
unhelpfully.
“That’s it. You’ll never know what happens to Steve. Story’s
over.”
Amy got up and prepared to leave. Brian whined behind her.
“No! I’ll be good! I promise! Just tell me the end.”
“Fine,” said Amy, rolling her eyes. “Um. So Steve defeated
the horrible monster and went home and lived happily ever after.”
“That’s not fair,” complained Brian. “You skipped
everything, even the part where Steve eats the monster’s eyes for revenge, and
stabs all the monster’s babies!”
“Ew! Where do you even learn this stuff?”
Brian shrugged. “Better stories?” he offered.
Amy walked back to the bed, punched her brother’s arm, and
then stormed out of the room.
No. 345
April 2, 2013
I knew that there were going to be changes in Fox’s Landing,
but the change that happened was not the one I was expecting.
The day began normally, as uncommon days do. My grandfather
and his group of regulars had arrived at the usual time and were now well into
their third round of drinks.
I lingered in the kitchen. I was trying to work up the
courage to give them the news.
Dana’s Coffee would be closing for good.
I’d planned to tell
Grandpa about that much earlier, but it was hard. I suppose I’d been worried
that he’d think that I hadn’t worked hard enough.
Dana’s Coffee had been my mom’s idea, and my parents died
the week before we were going to open. Closing would make Grandpa feel like he
was losing her again, but the store wasn’t making money. More importantly, I
wanted to leave Landing.
I was about to take one last sip of coffee before going out
to make the announcement when somebody knocked on the front door.
I set my mug down and rushed to answer. I knew it was
somebody new and, even on the last day, extra business wouldn’t hurt.
I opened the door and saw man who might have been about
thirty. He was a pleasant distraction from the grim task I’d been steeling
myself for.
“Come in,” I told him. “What can I get started for you?”
He ordered a coffee, dark roast, not some kind of flavoured
latte. That surprised me a little. Most folks from out of town liked a sweeter
option.
“Sit anywhere you like,” I directed the visitor. Then I left
to get his drink. I knew I’d have to hurry, or Bill would start his routine
about my age.
I made it back in time for the punch line. “Dana’s
ninety-five years old.” I briefly considered accidentally-on-purpose spilling
the coffee on him. I settled on threatening to ban him, again. It hurt when I
realized that I wouldn’t be able to follow through on the warning.
Fighting tears, I hurried back to the kitchen.
For the next hour or so, I hid, emerging only to refill
enough cups that people wouldn’t get too suspicious.
My misery was interrupted by a light tapping on the wall.
It was the visitor.
“Dana?” he asked hesitantly. “I’m James. I just wanted to
tell you how much I enjoyed my coffee.”
“Thanks,” I told him. Immediately, I knew that he knew.
“Is something wrong?”
he asked, taking a step closer.
I broke down, telling this stranger everything that I’d been
afraid to tell the others.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he came toward me and leaned back against
the counter. “I see.”
I could tell that the gears were turning in his head.
“Maybe we could make a deal,” he proposed.
No. 346
April 3, 2013
Tessa Lane was wanted for robbery.
At 12:32 that afternoon, she’d walked into the Western
Credit and Savings Bank on 80th Avenue and, after threatening the
cashier with a pistol, escaped with $13,324.
Three other banks were hit in the next four and a half
hours.
“Pull over here,” she told her accomplice. “I think we’re
far enough out of town that we can stop for dinner,” she said, 200 kilometers
into their getaway.
Her accomplice obeyed, and they got out of the car to
stretch their legs before entering the roadside diner.
“Are you sure we’re ok to take a break?” asked Gabriel
Sharp, her boyfriend and reluctant partner-in-crime
“Relax,” Tessa assured him. “Even if they suspect I’ve made
a run for it, they’ll still be putting together the false clues I left at the
scene. Those’ll lead them south. Besides, this place makes an excellent
burger.”
But Tessa was wrong. An off-duty police officer on the way
home from a fishing trip had seen the car pass by and had turned to follow.
Beth Hitchcock had been trailing the fleeing criminals for the last hour.
Backup was close behind.
Hitchcock walked into the restaurant and casually took a
seat behind Tessa and Gabriel’s table. She ordered a coffee and leaned back to
wait for the action to start.
No. 347
April 4, 2013
Lucas Williams sat high-up in the tree, watching the two men
search for the treasure. Though the men were careful to avoid being followed,
they did not suspect that they were being observed from above.
The treasure had been part of town lore for all of Lucas’ 15
years, and for many more before that. There was said to be a curse upon whoever
found it, but that didn’t stop anybody from looking. Whispered rumors suggested
that Farmer Ashcroft had discovered the lode shortly before his accident,
although it was clear that he’d made no further attempts to retrieve the prize.
Everybody knew the cryptic directions by heart. “A fortune
is buried four fathoms below the clearing west of the forked rock.”
Lucas saw one of the men begin to dig as the other marked
the coordinates in his GPS device. Before long, the hole had been expanded into
a cavity large enough for both men to stand in. Lucas heard the unmistakeable
sound of a shovel striking wood and drew in his breath sharply. He strained to
hear what the men were saying, but couldn’t make out their whispers.
Slowly, the men scraped away the dirt around a large,
rectangular area. Then they traded their shovels for crowbars and jimmied the
wooden lid off of the exposed crate. Lucas thought he saw a flash of something
shiny before his view was blocked as the men shifted position in the hole.
But Lucas had a funny feeling that something about the
situation wasn’t right. The pit wasn’t nearly deep enough as the legend said,
and the size of the box, though impressive, didn’t seem large enough to hold
the requisite amount of gold.
Lucas was trapped in the tree until nightfall, when the two
men left in the direction of the town. He scrambled down the trunk and crept
carefully toward the hole. Reaching the edge, he lowered himself down until he
was kneeling on the ground, inches away from the mysterious chest. With one
last, nervous scan of the clearing, Lucas pulled aside the hastily replaced
lid.
Upon seeing what was inside, he gasped, and stumbled back into
the earthen wall of the excavation. He felt small chunks of dislodged soil fall
onto his shoulders as he struggled to comprehend the contents of the box.
They were certainly not a treasure.
No. 348
April 5, 2013
The sound of the rain hitting the roof almost drowned out
the TV. Oliver Richardson frowned and raised the volume.
During a commercial break, he peered through the curtains to
evaluate the miserable conditions outside. It was black. There seemed to be a
power outage in the building next-door, and Oliver struggled to see anything.
When his show returned, he left the window alone. Hopefully
his power would stay on.
Several minutes later there was a blinding burst of
lightning followed immediately by the loudest thunder Oliver had ever heard.
The sudden noise made him flinch, almost spilling his beer. The lights
flickered briefly but did not go out.
Oliver took a deep breath and re-settled himself on the
couch. “Just a storm,” he muttered to himself.
Before he could get entirely comfortable, he heard a strange
tapping at the window. He shrugged it off. “Windy,” he allowed.
The tapping got faster. Oliver spared a glance toward the
still-closed curtains.
Another peal of thunder made Oliver jump. The tapping
continued. It seemed almost insistent.
Oliver’s nerves were on edge.
He turned out the living room lamp, to cut the glare, and
tried to look outside again.
The darkness and rain still conspired to obscure his vision.
He waited for the lighting.
The tapping was right there, against the window.
The lightning struck, illuminating the scene in a flash.
Oliver screamed.
There was a face outside. It wasn’t human.
A clawed arm smashed through the window, and wind caught the
drapes, blowing them wide open.
Oliver scrambled to the far side of the room, fleeing from
the invading monster.
He could see the entire horror now, as it crawled in through
the broken gap. Large, gray, covered in thick, warty skin, it crept toward him
on all fours. Oliver turned his head away from the terrible yellow eyes, and
tried to make for the bedroom. The bedroom door had a lock.
The creature was slow, taking each step carefully, as if on
unfamiliar ground.
Oliver reached his supposed stronghold and barricaded
himself inside. He realized that at some point since the attack started that
he’d wet himself with fear. Then, more importantly, that he’d left his phone in
the other room.
He would have to face his attacker alone.
He searched the closet frantically for something to use as a
weapon.
Finding nothing, he cowered behind the bed. Thunder shook
the house, and the lights went out.
Oliver heard tapping at the bedroom door.
No. 349
April 7, 2013
Larry Watson screamed.
The spider was tiny, but it had mere moments to live after
wandering into Larry’s line of sight.
Larry lifted a magazine to strike the killing blow.
“Wait,” said the spider. “Don’t do it!”
Larry took two surprised steps backward, and considered
screaming again. “It talked!” he exclaimed, instead.
“Of course I said something,” said the spider. “You were
going to squash me.” It turned its many pairs of beady eyes on Larry. “For no
reason whatsoever, I might add.”
“I. Uh,” stuttered Larry.
“That’s right,” said the spider, waving a fore-leg in the
air. “Maybe next time you’ll consider putting on your big-boy pants and not
murdering everything that walks past you.”
Larry dropped the magazine. Cautiously, he crept closer to
the arachnid. He extended a finger to probe the curious specimen.
“No touching,” said the spider. “I’ll bite you good.
“I should bite you anyway,” it grumbled.
“Is this actually happening?” Larry asked.
“I’ll tell you what,” offered the spider. “You let me go,
and I won’t tell anyone that you made that noise when you saw me, deal?”
Larry nodded dumbly.
“Good,” said the spider. “And now that we have this
arrangement, I’ll be off. Good day, sir.”
It scurried into a hole in the wall and disappeared.
Larry spent the rest of the evening in the exact center of
the room, shaking, and jumping at any sign of motion. Two days later, he moved.
No. 350
April 8, 2013
Somebody knocked on the kitchen door, long after Dana’s
Coffee had closed.
James smiled. He knew the original owner had come back to
Fox’s Landing.
“Good to see you,” he told Dana as she let herself in.
“It still feels strange to knock,” she said.
“I told you,” said James. “You don’t have to. It’s still
your place.”
“Only fifty percent,” she corrected. “How’re things?”
“Oh, I’m sure you know. Your grandfather won’t stop calling
me ‘New Guy’, and Bill pretends that he doesn’t know my name yet.”
“Bill might not,” said Dana. “After all—Bill.”
“How’s school?” James asked.
“First semester’s
done. I haven’t worked that hard since, well, here,” she said. “Speaking of
work, how about you make me a coffee so I can see if you’re keeping up to my
standards?”
“Coming up,” said James, as he reached for the proper jar of
beans. He proceeded to complete the task while Dana moved into the dining room
and sat down.
“And here you go,” he said a short time later, delivering
the fresh cup to her table.
Dana made a show of tasting it before delivering her
verdict. “You get a pass, but Miss Harris would tell you it’s too strong.”
“You’d be surprised how far I’ve come with Miss Harris,”
James defended himself.
“Would I?” said Dana with a raised eyebrow.
“Sure. Now she only sends back two or three cups a day.”
Dana laughed. “Good job.”
She took another sip, holding the mug with both hands. “How
do you like Landing?” she asked.
“It’s—,” James paused, searching for the right answer. “Not
what I expected.”
“Better, or worse?”
“I don’t know,” said James. “Different.”
“Wait until summer,” Dana advised. “Summer, you’ll love.”
They both sat in silence for a short while.
She finished her coffee and gathered her things. “I should
be getting home. Long day today.”
James nodded.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“I’ll see you then,” said James. “Goodnight, Dana.”
“’Night,” she told him as she slipped out the back door.
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