What would happen if you came face to face with your demons?
Book one coming soon... Maybe...
Short Stories
Uncover the mystery
Newest Release
Sneak Peek
Working title: The Codes
Dew hung on the window next to the dining table. Mary grasped her cup gently, taking in the warmth through her hands. It had been a long time since she had seen a sunrise this beautiful. She glanced over at the clock on the wall and told herself everything would be okay.The sound of small feet pattered down the hardwood in the hallway. A sip later, two giant eyes peered around the corner, accompanied by two little hands. They pretended to be dinosaurs in the cute way they do. The boy giggled and came running to his mom, embracing her waist almost making her spill her coffee. He let go and took his seat on the other side of the table where his eggs and milk were waiting for him. He frowned at the simple meal, but his tummy told him to eat up. His mother took another sip, still looking out the window.“Mom, guess what?!” the little boy exclaimed. “What?” she said with a knowing smile. “It's Saturday. That means there is no school today!” “Oh, you're right.” she said in a playfully forgetful tone. “Do you know what else today is?” The boy pondered for a moment, trying to remember which number of the month it was. His eyes lit up as he realized his birthday was that weekend.“That's right! Happy birthday!” She reached behind her into the purse that hung on the back of her chair. She pulled out a crisp five dollar bill and handed it to him. He snatched it with glee and wrapped his arms around her again. She lifted him up into her lap as he held up the bill. “This is awesome!” he exclaimed. It was probably the most money he had ever seen. The mother felt her son's joy in her heart and told him he could go down to the candy store and buy whatever he wanted.He gave her a kiss on the cheek and ran to slip his shoes on. He waved as he slammed the door in excitement. His mother waved back, her smile fading as the house grew quiet and her boy skipped across the yard to his bike with the last five dollars she had.It had only been a few months since Jeremy died. He was a hard working man, but had left little for her to raise a child on. Friends and family had flocked in to help, but that had all dried up now. She was stuck in a rut with no way out. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A friend of hers had mentioned an opening at the diner she worked at. It may not pay as well as her husband's career, but she needed to do something, and quickly. Her parents had offered to watch little Ben whenever she needed, so she could go job hunting. She decided she would call her friend this morning to set up an interview. She didn't know how the mortgage was going to be paid next month, but she knew she could at least give Ben one more day of happiness before things spiraled out of control.The boy raced his bike the entire mile into town. The candy shop sat on the corner of Fifth and State with a large, simple sign reading “Sweets”. It was the go-to hangout spot for high school kids and hot summer days. The owner, Mr. Benson, stood behind the counter like he always did, reading the latest celebrity gossip when the front door knocked the bell, alerting him to his next customer. He looked up to where an adult face should be, then down at the little boy who had just walked in alone.“Well, hello there.” he said, looking out to the street. The boy greeted him dismissively, looking intently at the display of lollipops to the right of the door. Mr. Benson cleared his throat. “Are your parents around?” “No.” replied the boy simply. The last thing he needed was unattended children coming in here and stealing things. Theft had been on the rise lately, and he wasn't taking any chances. He was about to usher the child out when he noticed the tiny fist clenching some money. He lightened his tone. “What can I get ya?”The boy was so overwhelmed, he couldn't decide. There were Coco-Raisins, Yummy-Gummies, all kinds of jaw breakers, and some candies he had never heard of. He stood on his tippy toes and plopped the crumpled five dollar bill on the counter. “Give me as much as this can buy.”The man looked him over and pocketed the money. At least the kid was a paying customer. He turned around, tore a bag off its reel, picked up a scoop and gestured at the glass cabinet below the cash register. “You can have anything in here. Just tell me what you want, and I'll fill this bag.” He held it up so the boy could see. A look of determination was in his eyes as he scanned the now limited selection. “I'll take some of the red ones...” He paused, deep in thought. “And maybe some green ones. No, I like the blue ones better!” He watched as the man carefully poured his favorite flavors in the bag and put them on a scale.The scale read a little under five dollars worth, but he figured the kid wouldn't notice. He handed the bag over the counter and barely got out, “have a good day” before the bell rung again and the boy was gone, nearly knocking over the next patron coming through the door.Mr. Benson recognized the man instantly and his smile turned into a scowl. “What do you want?” The stranger was a tall, young man in his thirties wearing a common suit under his black overcoat and matching wide-brimmed Fedora. He removed his hat and shook his head, chuckling at the excited youth that almost ran him over. He addressed Mr. Benson in a calm voice, “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” stepping into the middle of the one room store. Mr. Benson went back to his paper, giving him the silent treatment. The awkwardness filled the air and lingered a bit too long.The man spoke again, “Come on, Mike, I thought we were friends.” Without looking up, Mike shuffled his paper before making an exaggerated motion of turning the page. “I don't have anything for you today. Come back tomorrow,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “This is the third week in a row, you know,” the stranger warned. Mike just shrugged. The stranger let out a contemplative “hm” and turned to examine some merchandise on the wall. He picked up a glass vile of some kind of white, sugary substance and tossed it from one hand to the other. “I can't believe you're still caught up on that Rodriguez thing.” It slipped from his grip and landed on the wood floor with a sharp crash. The mystery liquid splattered across the floor and up the shelving it just came from. That got his attention.“Hey! You're gonna pay for that!” The man casually wiped his gloved hands on his overcoat. “You're right, I will. And I'll pay handsomely for other things as well.” Mr. Benson was furious. “I said I ain't got nothin' for ya!” The stranger reached into his pocket, drew out a roll of bills and tossed it on the counter on his way to the front door. “I guess we're done, then.” He paused a beat at the open door as if to give his associate one more chance to change his mind. Nothing came from the old clerk so he placed his hat back on his head. “Have a nice life, Mr. Benson.” Mike grumbled something involving “good riddance” at the closing door and stuck the roll of hundreds into his pocket.
The Healer
Remember the last time you sat in class? It was a long time ago. Or was it yesterday?Usually when lectures go long, your mind tends to wander, but what if one day your mind wandered a little too far?
The First Hour
You only have an hour to change your life.
What you do next matters more than you know.
In the Wake of Silence
When destiny shows up on your doorstep, let her in
Temper
Follow a young man through the halls of hell as he tries to justify the highest injustice
Round Two
It's happening again
A Simple Transaction
Make of it what you will
The Mechazuran Directive: Alone
The first installment of the series
Falling
An experiment in single-session writing
The Mechazuran Directive: Sands of Rastegari
These are not being written in order, just well
Eyes Only
You must have the password to enter here. This sneak peak is for the ones who support me in all ways. The ones who see the vision before the work is started.The ones who read misspelled words late at night before bed after the whirlwind of flowstate quiets for the night.
This doesn't exist. I'm not paying 50 fuckin dollars to make one button password protected
The First Hour
I rounded the corner at an already brisk pace. It felt like I was making great time until I looked at my watch. I picked up speed, nearing a dead sprint.I work out. I even do cardio sometimes. I'm not the most fit guy ever, but my destination wasn't far. My chest heaved with every breath; and with every other step, I exhaled the notion of making it on time. My desperation pushed me past the point of giving up and I crossed into a whole new realm of pain. I was definitely going to feel this in the morning.I took a shortcut through a backyard and crossed the street. Before me lay the empty shell of a mall that had been abandoned years prior. It was in such disrepair that the fact it was still standing was astonishing.Taking a moment to catch my breath, I looked up and down the aging chain link fence surrounding the property. I couldn't see any openings and the property took up an entire block of town, so going around wasn't an option. I glanced at my watch again. Climbing it is.Albeit ungraceful, I managed to get over the fence without injury. That is, with the exception of my suit jacket. I had somehow tore a hole right through the back side of it.I stopped to take a breath before venturing across the vast desert of a parkinglot.Years of neglect had allowed for weeds to grow wild between cracks in the asphalt. I stared as the heat rippled up from the ground, creating a mirage of the building in the distance. The bugs in the grass and my heavy breathing were the only sounds, adding to the ambience of the past long since forgotten. Where had the helicopter gone?My head was pounding, my blood pressure high. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this. As that thought crossed my mind, a black cat trotted from the treeline I was currently using for shade. It made its way into the parking lot where it sniffed something and layed down, flicking its tail. Well I wasn't about to be outdone by a cat.I took off my jacket and held it over my head to shade myself from the relentless sun. Here goes nothing.Off I went. I made it to section "B" before I became winded again. I kept moving at a brisk walk as I took gulps of seering hot air.By the time I reached the building itself, my clothes were completely drenched in sweat. Surely I smelled just as much. The walls were about forty feet high and there was no way I was going to try and climb up anywhere on the outside. It just wasn't worth the risk. There had to be roof access somewhere.I found a little alcove along the wall that opened to a space the mall used to house the massive dumpster parked behind a gate. Behind the dumpster was a series of gas meters and an open door labeled "Boiler Room". That had to be it. I entered and immediately regretted the waste of time. There was no ladder anywhere. Just boilers. Go figure.I tried another door. Locked.Then another, sending up a little prayer.Bingo.I climbed the rickety metal ladder to the roof hatch. It fought back, but I got it open. The temporary relief from the sun was gone. Replaced with glaring sunlight and gusts of wind not present at ground level. It created what felt like an entirely different kind of desert. One that was significantly hotter.If you have ever looked, I mean really looked, at the footprint of a mall, they take up a lot of space. That same footprint translates to the roof as well. How was I supposed to complete my objective of finding a needle in this absurdly immense haystack?I looked across the almost baren hellscape at what could only be described as such. Somehow there were plants up here, too. There were all kinds of rotted and abandened equipment up here. Most were just shells with their pieces scattered everywhere from being broken down for scrap. All that remained of them were husks of Earth-colored rust. Random bits of metal, pipe, and other materials were scattered about without care.I started walking, not entirely sure where to go from here.--Two well dressed men sat in a conference room that was larger than the objective required, watching a screen showing a live feed of me wandering around the rooftop of an abandoned shopping center like an idiot. "You are the devil," said one man to the other, laughing, "simply devious!" He took a sip of golden liquid in a glass. The other looked at the clock on the wall. "He only has fifteen minutes left.""Think he'll make it?"
"He'd better."--I walked to the next pile of rubble realizing I don't have time to scour every inch of this place. Frankly, I don't think the task would be bearable with perfect weather and a week to do it. Time was coming to a close, but I could feel the objective somewhere around me. I had to be close.Just then a glimmer of light hit me and I caught sight of something I never would have expected to find in this sea of decay.It was another A/C, but this one was......prestine. As if it had been placed there yesterday. It showed no signs of age at all. Not a scratch. I rubbed my eyes several times trying to decide if it was an illusion or actually there. I was sure it was real when I touched it and it came to life suddenly, giving me a heart attack.I kicked it in retaliation. I took a moment and looked around the outside of the unit, on the ground, and down through the fan shroud blowing air that rivaled the wind in terms of temperature. It must be inside. Come to find out, these units have hundreds if not thousands of screws holding them together. Screws that I can't remove given my lack of tools. I found a piece of metal and tried using it as a makeshift pliers, but that wasn't going to work. Each panel has like, seven hundred screws all needing to be turned by hand. I don't have the time.I kicked the unit out of frustration, this time yelling obscenities at nothing in particular. I composed myself, took a deep breath, and tried to focus, wiping the beading sweat on my sleeve. "Okay," I said to myself, "what do we know? The note said the objective is possible within the alotted time. We also know this machine being new is a clue, so it must be in there, right?" I winced, not even convincing myself.Maybe I was looking at it wrong. Maybe I'm supposed to get in without tools. I scanned every inch of the unit and came upon a panel that looked like it was designed to be removed by hand. I chuckled to myself, clearly losing my sanity, as I read the label stuck to the panel, "pull up and out".I did as instructed and the panel came free without much effort at all. The wind suddenly picked up and ripped the panel from my hands, cutting me on the way out.I yelled out in pain as blood ran down my arm. Checking the wound, it wasn't that deep. I kicked the unit twice this time, denting the side.I collected myself and untucked my shirt, using it as a temporary bandage to help stop the bleeding. I peered into the dark space within the unit. Sure enough, there it was. My prize dangled in front of the internal filters.I held the shimmering gold watch up in the sunlight. It was a sight to behold, and I had never been more proud of myself in all my life. The helicopter that had been following me made a low pass and landed in the parking lot.--A smile crept accross the man's face as the other hollered in celebration behind him. He knew the kid had it in him.--The interview earlier handn't lasted long, mostly consisting of a strange string of questions regarding my aptitude in a variety of subjects. They threw scenarios at me that made little sense, but ultimatley skirted the job description.I had sent in my resume as a hail mary to what seemed like a rather prestigious postition at a company called A.R.C. Corp (Asset Recovery Consultants). The pay was fantastic, but they stressed multiple times the potential for high-risk, high-stakes environments. I suppose this challenge qualified as such.What I had just completed was the final leg of an hour long scavenger hunt. I had an hour to get places, solve puzzles, and collect clues. That's how I knew the last peice of the puzzle would be on the roof of this particular mall.When I made it down to where the helicopter landed, I was greeted by a man wearing an expensive suit and a huge smile. He stepped out, offering a hand to me.An hour ago, I was just a guy looking for a job. Now, I'm a guy in torn, bloody clothes, drenched in sweat, and wearing two watches about to rub shoulders with some very wealthy individuals.I let out a long sigh of relief. "They really put you through the ringer, didn't they?" the man shouted over the rotors, looking me over. "Yeah," I laughed, "I didn't know I had it in me."He gave me a knowing smile. "Well allow me to be the first to congratulate you! C'mon, let's go meet with the rest of your team."
The Healer
Fifteen minutes. Fifteen more minutes of this boring lecture and I could go home, change out of these jeans and into my warm jammies and fuzzy socks, curl up on the couch and binge watch another couple seasons of my favorite show. God, Jake is so hot.Ugh, I could feel that phantom pain creeping in again. The pain that warns me of the coming catastrophe that is my brain. Ever since I was a kid, I would get these awful migraines. It would start with this weird phantom pain like a candle lit in the distant darkness, then creep up into full blown, crippling waves of suffering. Thank God they subsided after high school, but now I wonder if they're coming back. Oh shit – a flare of pain hit me out of nowhere.The professor stared at me, expecting some kind of answer. "Ms Carter, are you alright?" he asked again, becoming more concerned by the second. "Yeah," I said, rubbing my head, "it's just a mi-" My head exploded in pain. The nausea hit immediately and I fought to stay vertical even while sitting down. The room began to spin and my last thought as I came to the verge of passing out was about how embarrassing this looked. Imagine that being the last thought you ever had. God, I'm such a loser.I reached for my bag, and the medication within that I always keep for emergencies just like this. My hand landed on cloth, but it wasn't my bag. My vision cleared just enough to make out the shape of a man's button up shirt, and a woman before me. The look on her face was panicked. I shook my head to clear my vision. I saw her lips moving, but my ears weren't working yet. “W-w-what?”“SAVE HIM!”I looked down, groggy. We were both kneeling in mud. A man lay on his back between us. He wore a very simple shirt, red specks already darkened across the fabric. My eyes wandered up to his face. He was slowly losing consciousness. How do I know that? Medical school. I had been a nurse since I was little, putting band-aids on barbie girls. I had already completed my schooling and was a resident at a local hospital taking some night classes because I hadn't chosen a specialty yet.Those years of training kicked in as the adrenaline dumped faster than I realized at the time, blocking out the migraine. His words slurred and his eyes slowly closed. I looked down to see blood soaking into the dingy yellow material of his pants. With a yank, the pants tore easily and I could see the massive gash in his leg. It wasn't spurting, so whatever happened didn't hit an artery, but it was obvious he had lost a lot of blood.I shoved the cloth into the wound the way I had been taught and applied pressure. I looked over to my left to see three girls no older than thirteen. I could see in their wide eyes they were terrified, but their outward appearance was calm and rigid. They stood there staring at me like statues. They wore what you would expect to see in like, sixteenth century England – but poor. As eerie as the sight was, I called out to the older of the three. “Do you understand me?” She nodded.“Good! That's good. Can you go find me some more cloth?” I gestured at my own clothes and the girl ran off beyond the crowd, returning a moment later with an arm full of dirty clothes. They didn't smell, but they weren't clean either. Looking around at the crowd forming around us, dirty clothes seemed to be all they had. I thanked her and went back to dressing the wound. The woman seemed very grateful for my help. I told her to hold pressure on the wound until the bleeding stopped.Before I could fully explain how to keep the wound clean, my shoulder was pulled roughly toward another patient laying in the mud. It was an older oriental male, approximately in his fifties. He was wincing in pain and holding his arm that was hanging at a wrong angle. Fracture. Not compounded.I looked at the remaining two, “I need something hard and straight. Sticks, or preferably flat boards.” again with hand gestures just to make sure there was no confusion. One of them gave a quick nod and took off before I could add to my order. “And more cloth, lots of cloth!” I said to the last girl. I had a feeling I would be here a minute. She also took off, leaving me alone to comfort the man. He didn't seem to speak my language and smelled awful. All these people just reeked of poor hygiene. Someone in the crowd coughed. Yeah, I'm not surprised.The first girl returned and stood at attention, waiting for further orders. I had her sit with the man and comfort him since she spoke the language and I could not. Another girl came sliding in, out of breath, and leaving a trail of freshly split firewood. She dumped her load on the ground beside me and I found a log about three inches in diameter that had been split down the middle. Perfect.Realizing this might be painful I said, “Hold down his shoulders. Warn him this is likely going to hurt; a lot.” All three girls did as directed and the man didn't even flinch. I could see the pain in his face, but he made no sound as I wrapped his arm to the best of my ability. The strips of cloth were plenty long and very durable, but they were clearly less than clean. What am I even doing right now? What is this?The thought lingered and echoed in my head as the patients came and went in a blur of chaos, confusion, and panic. Only one of them stood out among the rest. A young man, no older than his mid twenties. He wasn't breathing and had no pulse. I can clearly recall the sickening crunch of his sternum as I began CPR. I gave it my all. I tried, dammit. But it was no use. The crowd went silent as I realized I was out of gas and he was cold to the touch. I couldn't save him. I couldn't save any of them. Not really. I was snapped out of my zombie state by a loud clang off to my right. Someone fumbling around in the dark. “I'm sorry, Doctor, but we have more wounded.”I rubbed my dirty face with dirtier hands. I don't even want to know what was on them. I remembered why I was sitting on this bench. It's the first chance I'd had to sit down. I was given some very bland bread and a glass of wine for a meal. I left a morsel and reached again for the cup. I'd kill for a cigarette right now.The gurney rolled in front of me, several more waiting in line behind it. A few nurses hurried about getting instruments and the patient ready. Someone turned on that goddamned light again. Fuckin' thing was so bright, it could outshine the sun. Hey... I've seen that sunrise before. H-how long have I been doing this? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I had forgotten how to smile by this point. “I'm not okay. Nothing is fine.” I said out loud to no one in particular. “Aw, come on doc, it ain't that bad.” the young man before me said. I was fully prepared to cut into his flesh to save his life but – he's talking. And sure enough, it wasn't that bad. Compared to the rest, this would be fairly easy. My deliriously stupid mind somehow considered that a positive. There's nothing positive about this.Seven stitches later, the patient changed before me for the last time. Tiredness finally took hold. I couldn't take it anymore, and my vision was going, my muscles dying of exhaustion. I must – sleep. It happened before I could stop it. All the wine I had drank earlier came up without warning. If it wasn't for the surgical mask, I would have spilled my guts all over the guts of the young kid I was trying to save. His heart stopped beating before I had collected myself.To this day, I can't tell you where the burst of energy came from. But I just lost it. Something in my mind snapped under the pressure. I started throwing shit everywhere, abandoning all hope at saving them all. Amidst my screaming, that insufferable pain crept back in, escalating to blinding in the blink of an eye.The pain slowly subsided, my vision returning before my hearing. With ringing ears, I looked around at all my peers, still sitting in class. The teacher had paused mid-word to join the rest of them in staring at me as if I had just said something profoundly inappropriate. The ones closest to me were clearly trying to get as far away from me as physically possible.My ears had stopped ringing, but now all I heard was silence. I looked down at myself and began to laugh, then wept. I had no words for what I had just endured, and the all encompassing, bloody filth still covering me head to toe.
In the Wake of Silence
Jacob Miller had never owned much. He was the seventh generation farmer for a stretch of land in the middle of nowhere Kansas. He often found himself gazing out into what locals called the Three Horizons. North, East, and South was nothing more than sea of golden wheat with a long road to nowhere running through the Western side.One day, toward the end of summer, Jacob ventured out into his vast field with a bad feeling. You know how sometimes people can feel storms coming because of the pressure on their joints? Jacob was like that with invasive pests on his land. He just knew something was out here. Last time he felt this way, he had found an infestation of aphids tearing up his crops. This was his home, his livelyhood, dangnabbit, and he wasn't about to let any critters spoil it.He stood atop his tractor among the waist-high wheat that gently swayed in the autumn breeze. Nothing seemed amiss at the moment, but that strange gut feeling just wouldn't cease. A few moments passed, and he was about to head home when he saw it. Movement on the horizon.Jacob lifted his rifle scope to his eye which strained against the brightness of the day. Was that – a person? He looked again in disbelief as a girl, no taller than the wheat around her ran for her life in his direction about a quarter mile out. "What in tarnation?" he asked himself quietly.Jacob hurriedly climbed onto the roof of his tractor and steadied the rifle on the hood of his tractor, searching for what the girl was running from. The only thing in that direction was more fields full of corn and more wheat, it was almost harvest afterall. How had she even gotten this far out on foot? The next house was only a couple miles out, maybe she had come from there. But he knew those folks and they didn't have a little girl.She was closer now, clearly running toward him specifically. Jacob stood and waved, slightly perplexed at the sight. He climbed down off the tractor and prepared to meet her.She was maybe twelve or thirteen, wearing a blue dress. Her dirty face was framed by messy hair as golden as the grain around her. "Hey – are you okay?" Jacob asked. The girl didn't say anything; she just panted and collapsed. Her face was beat red and she looked like she had been out in the fields for the last couple days at least.Jacob immediately scooped her up and set her on his tractor and drove as fast as he could back to the farmhouse. He set her on his bed and layed a light blanket over her. It took a minute, but she eventually stirred, and he was at her side with a glass of water before she could ask anything. She took a gulp or two and fell back asleep.He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Her skin was absolutely on fire from exposure. He frowned as he placed a cool towel on her head and fussed with the sheets. How long had she been out there? Walking into the livingroom, he decided to call the Andersons who owned the property to the North, the direction the girl had come from. They didn't answer, of course.Jacob spent the evening tending to her sunburn with some aloe from the plant he kept in the windowsill in the kitchen. She would stir every once in a while, wincing each time. He was sure to utter some comforting words just in case she happened to wake.Feeling the girl was as comfortable as he could manage, Jacob packed his pipe and smoked it as he scanned the horizon for any sign of what she was running from. All he could see was the familiar silhouette of the golden sea of wheat stretching out as far as the eye could. He walked around to the front porch where his favorite rocking chair was. He sat and contemplated what he saw today, his gut still wrenching with that strange feeling. The night settled quietly, a few stars beginning to shimmer in the deepening sky.The nights came early this time of year. As soon as darkness arrived, Jacob decided to retreat to the livingroom where his nightly newspaper ritual waited for him. He was skimming through the sports pages when he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. The girl leaned timidly on the doorframe to his bedroom as if it was the only way she could stay vertical. Her head swayed a bit.He set the newspaper and his readers down gently, not wanting to startle her. "Hey, you're up. Feeling better, I hope?" Her head slumped a bit. She looked like she was about to fall over, so he took another step toward her. The sudden motion snapped her out of it and those wild eyes returned. She studied him like a mouse studies a well-fed cat."Sorry," he said quickly, his hands out in front of him, "you looked like you were about to fall over." She looked him up and down again, seeming to calm down a bit. Jacob noticed she was carrying the glass he had set next to the bed. It was empty now. "Would you like some more water?" he asked, keeping his tone as gentle as possible. She glanced down at the glass, then back at him and nodded. She held it out and Jacob took it, carfeul not to startle her again. He smiled, then walked to the kitchen for a refill."If you’re hungry, I got a little soup in the fridge I can heat up. It ain't a feast, but it'll be warm and fresh." Well, sorta fresh. "No pressure, though." he called from the kitchen sink, being sure to speak up over the running water. No response came from the other room besides a weak, hollow cough. His heart sank at the sound. Poor thing, he thought.He brought her the glass and asked if she had a sore throat. She sipped and nodded at the same time. He returned shortly with a spoon full of honey. "Here ya go, hon," he said, aware of the pun, "this always helped me when I had a dry cough." The girl eyed him with trepidation, but her throat was instantly relieved and she handed back the spoon, followed by the glass. "More water?" he asked.She nodded again, this time a little more at ease. "Okay, but this one has to last the night, understand?" Another nod. It was time they both got some sleep.Jacob woke to a loud and urgent knocking at the door. He looked at the clock on the wall and groaned. He had fallen alseep in the livingroom, which did not help his aging back. The girl was sitting up straight on the couch, eyes wide. He hobbled over to the door where he was greeted by two officers standing patiently. He glanced back at the girl who's eyes were still wide, but was now shaking her head as if answering the door was a bad idea."Mornin', sir," one of them said, tipping his hat, "my name is Officer Mantel with the Pinewood County Sherrif's Office. We're going around knocking on doors to inquire about a missing child." Jacob's jaw clenched. What had he gotten himself into?"We're looking for a girl, 'bout this tall with blonde hair. Have you seen anyone matching that discription?"Jacob Miller was an honest, caring, down to Earth, God-fearing man. And lying to the police would get him nowhere. He glanced at the girl who was looking like a cornered animal about to make a run for it, and stepped out to the porch for a more private conversation."Yes, I found her in my field yesterday. Poor thing was dehydrated and scared."Officer Mantel's eyebrow rose. "Is she alright now?" he asked, looking past Jacob. His partner was already peering through the front window next to them. "Yeah, she's fine. Still thirsty I s'pose."The officers, elated to have found her, politely asked to enter, Jacob stepped aside."Miss," Mantel said gently, kneeling down to match her eye level and taking off his cap, "we're here to make sure you're safe and healthy. You're not in trouble, okay?" She gave a slight nod. "Can you tell me your name?" The girl wouldn't move or make eye contact. She just stared at the ground, nodding and shaking her head to his questions. His partner asked if he could use the phone to call Doctor Hammond out to the scene. Jacob obliged and watched the scene play out before him."Alright, thanks Jen." The officer hung up the phone and looked at Jacob who had fallen into a chair. "Should be a couple hours, tops", he said. "Coffee?" offered Jacob. "Absolutely."As the coffee brewed, Jabob glanced back at the living room. The officer was still speaking softly to her, his tone calm and reassuring. He couldn't quite hear the words, but he could see her fidgeting, the urge to flee written all over her face."It's tough to see this kind of thing," Officer Mantel's partner began, leaning against the counter. "Her father was involved in a domestic violence incident — got drunk and set their house on fire while she and her mother were inside. Thankfully, the mother managed to escape with minor burns, but we’ve been trying to track down the father ever since. He’s still missing.""How long ago did this happen?" he asked, a bit perplexed."Last week." the officer responded, the weight of his answer filling the moment. They shared a look that said everything that needed to be said."It’s sad, but this happens more often than you think. Families caught in cycles of violence, the kids often bear the brunt of it. We’ll have the doc check her out. After that, we'll need to get her somewhere safe — maybe a shelter."Jacob suddenly felt protective over the girl. After all, she had nowhere else to go. "She can stay here for the time being." he said. The officer just nodded.Officer Mantel walked into the kitchen, running a hand through his slicked-back hair and sighed. Jacob offered a cup of coffee and the man accepted, taking a sip. "She's shaken," he said, "I couldn't get a word out of her but it's definitely the one we're looking for.""Mr. Miller here has offered to let her stay until we can figure out a permanent solution."
"That so?" Mantle asked.
"Yes, sir. I have plenty of food in the cellar and a spare mattress in the other room."
"You live alone?" Mantle asked, looking around, "must be difficult running this farm."
"Ever since Evelyn passed, I've been taking care of things on my own. I have a few local boys help out with the harvesting and planting."
The men continued chatting until the doctor arrived."Hello there." the doctor had just arrived and was currently looking her over. Doctor Holland asked many questions. All of which went unanswered as the girl remained silent. He checked her vitals, looked at her sunburned skin, and saw the signs of dehydration and a slight fever. After a few minutes, he straightened up and turned to the three of them, a warm expression on his face. "She’ll be fine," he assured them, "just needs some rest."The officers took the girl and said their goodbyes. They said they would follow up at a later date.Doc patted Jacob on the shoulder. "Not many would have done what you did in such a situation. It’s good to see that kindness still exists."
"I just did what seemed right." he responded.
"Well, you did more than most. She’s lucky to have found you."There was a long pause."Ya know, I believe in fate," the doctor said, packing up his things. "Sometimes, it leads people to exactly where they need to be, even in the most unexpected circumstances."
Jacob nodded, "You think it was fate that brought her to me?"
"Absolutely!" the doc exclaimed, holding out a finger, "Fate is resourceful."
His words resonated as Jacob watched the girl get in the police car, still watching him."From where I stand, you were there at the right moment, ready to help when she needed it most. It’s as if the universe conspired to connect you both." He sounded like a preacher in that moment. So sure of his own wisdom. "I s'pose you’re right, Doc."--Turns out our little nowhere town didn't have much in the way of taking care of orphans back then. A woman from the church suggested he legally adopt the girl. "Well, I cant quite adopt a child without a name, now can I?" I heard him say. We finally settled on Lilly as it was my favorite flower.My name is Lilly Miller, and this is the story of how I met the man I would eventually call Dad. The altercations with my real father left me mute so I had no way to communicate how appreciative I was when this man set aside his life and raised me as his own.At the end, I was the one taking care of him. The cancer had him confined to a hospital bed and from time to time I would visit and show him stories I had written about our adventures together.I'll never forget the last thing he ever wanted in life. It was late summer, the leaves beginning to turn. The wheat harvest was soon upon us and I wouldn't have much time left to visit. He motioned for me to lean closer and I did, kissing him on the forehead."I'd like to see the sunset over the field one last time."
Temper
Thamos says nothing as he turns and continues walking down the hallway. Hot steam swirls around him, hissing with every step on the hard, metal grating lining the floor of the walkway. His boots echo down the impossibly long hallway and beyond its structure closely resembling a wall made of pipes, support beams, gauges, and valves. It's a miracle no one gets lost down here. Above him stretches the rest of the complex. A construction so large, it has its own atmosphere and gravity. A man-made planet if you will.Down here in Hades, it's nothing but heat and humidity. A man could go his entire life carrying nothing but some rations, water, and a bucket of grease to keep the great machine alive. Most do.He comes to a door labeled 2105-4. He hesitates before knocking. He had to pull a lot of strings to get this far. Was it worth it? What could he possibly say? His knuckles rap on the door without a command. No response.He knocks again. Was that a sigh? Or another release of steam? He looks up at the release valves of the next floor. There is no ceiling, so one can ponder the vastness of the construct without much effort. The door unlatches, but does not open. Through the crack he sees his mate sulking back to his – its not even a table, let alone a bed, though that is what they use them for. It's a simple metal structure consisting of a flat surface chained to the wall so it can be lifted to make room for activities requiring more floor space. Thamos gently pushes the door open and lets it close behind him, never once taking his eyes off his friend.He's thin. Probably dehydrated. Sadness fills his stomach in place of food. He hasn't eaten either. He goes and sits next to the man and they share a long, uncomfortable silence. The orange glow pulses and fills the room as if it were there to illuminate it on purpose.Thomas opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to peace together a meaningful thing to say. Nothing seems to be sufficient. So nothing is what he says.Several more breaths linger in the air. His friend lets out a tired sigh and asks simply, "are you here to comfort me?" Thamos is unsure how to answer that. "I am here to speak with you. Before they – before they take you." he says. He hates himself for saying it. But it's true. He would not lie to a friend."I appreciate you coming." Thamos nods, it's the least he could do. No, it is the most he could do at this point. His mind replays all the time they've spent together. Edmond was always like a brother to him. This "trial" had felt like a betrayal he could do nothing to stop. How does one find words for that? It's not fair! He holds his crying brother one last time, a rage he has never known before creeping up inside him.A loud pounding comes from the door. The guard has come, and with him the reaper.
The Mechazuran Directive: Alone
Dr. Catherine Voss
GSD 2150.08.03
Grid: 1425C-7-1Back when I was young, before time stole the spring in my step and the bounce of my little red curls, I would often look to the sky at night and dream of traveling the stars; exploring hidden worlds far beyond what the eye could see from the ground. When I got older, I finally found that chance. Atlas, a company tasked with mapping the heavens, hired me straight out of school. They said I had a lot of potential or something.Recently, we were exploring a semi-habital moon in the galactic Northwest. Some pioneer groups had gone missing, later found dead by unknown means. The company did some more scans and no fauna bigger than a monkey was ever found to be living in the vast forests. Deemed safe for ground inspection, another group was dropped in to investigate. They were wiped out in a matter of days.Which is why I eventually found myself wandering through the dense vegitation in a military issued exploration suit, listening to music and singing at the top of my lungs. It was surely entertaining for Control who were listening to our constantly open mics. Annoying as the banter was sometimes, it was necessary to record literally everything in case we stumbled upon something that unlocked this mystery. It had absolutely nothing to do with legal liabilities.All we knew to this point was it resembled something airborne. So me and the boys decided to spend some weeks alternating shifts with another team so we can operate day and night and get this thing licked before the first colony ship arrived. I was designated the "outside guy" so I was granted a separate quarters. Which made sense since I would be coming and going all the time. Only my suit and airlock would need sanitizing, saving resources overall. The downside being my relationship with the rest of the crew happened through a hermetically sealed barrier. My song was about to get to the best part when I was rudely interrupted by official comms asking for a sitrep.The greenish glow from the nest on the ground illuminated my surroundings as I paused the music and keyed my mic. "Voss." No need to be formal when you're communicating with just about the only other inhabitants of a celestial body. "Hey Cat, haven't heard from you in a while. Is everything okay?" It was Cyrus, our lead technical analyst."Yeah, just grabbing some more samples. Got a lively bunch here.""Okay, well we've been making progress on the two strains you brought in yesterday. They seem to be having a – a reaction to each other." The tone in his voice was clearly masking trepidation. "What kind of reaction?"He hesitated on the mic as if trying to find a way of saying it so I wouldn't worry. "It's ah – rather significant." I pressed him to clarify. "It's a thermal reaction. Like a tiny explosion." I closed the cap on my sample, pausing to let that sink in. My silence prompted Cyrus to continue. "It kills both mites in the process and seems to agitate the surrounding parties. It's like watching the Montagues and Capulets in a closed room with swords." I didn't understand that reference, but I understood the implications. The colony scattered where I had disturbed it. When I had finished recording the location and relevant data, I took a moment to consider my surroundings.Since we had started documenting the moon, this area had gone through a slight change in season. The once moist forest was slowly drying out. I keyed my mic again, “Hey Cyrus, how far back do our records go for this hemisphere?” It wasn't far.“I think we might be standing on a powder keg.” I said slowly.
Cyrus always tried to see the positive side of things. “I prefer to think we just became billionaires overnight by discovering a new type of fuel.” I rolled my eyes. “Either way this area is less safe than we thought. When the reaction happens, it lets off a gas. We think that is what is causing the dramatic effects in our mice. It might be a defensive mechanism of sorts, or – hey! What are you d-.”The comms crackled and a dull thump could be heard in the distance. A flock of creatures in that area took flight. I wasted no time hastily packing my things and started back toward the hab as fast as my over encumbered legs would take me.All I could hear were sounds of fumbling around and screaming. Someone was cussing up a storm over the open mic. I burst into the clearing as another section of the hab was engulfed in flame. I-I made eye contact with Cyrus, warning me to stay away. His words were drowned by the foam bubbling up and out of his mouth as he convulsed and dropped to the floor.I had slumped against the outside of the hab, knowing full well they were all dead. There was literally nothing I could do but activate the external emergency beacon. I asked “why?” with tears in my eyes. I will never forget watching the star set behind the gas giant as the light skips off its atmosphere and collides with the moon's that evening. Absolutely breathtaking.It took a local day or two for the crew of the orbiting supply ship Zenith to receive the distress beacon and send down a transport. They were responsible for all operations in the region, so I understood the delay, just wish it didn't give me so much time with the thoughts in my head.The decision was made. My services were no longer required, and I was to be on the first ship back home, standard procedure for survivors of mass casualty events on the frontier. The moon was deemed too hazardous in general and would be cleansed with fire over the coming weeks. The spectacle was, again, breathtaking, or so I was told. I only saw the eradication on a screen during my time in quarantine.When I had returned home, I grabbed the first regular, boring job that came my way. Sure beat sulking around, rethinking over the events of that day. It wasn't my fault, as deemed by an internal investigation, but it somehow felt like it was. I occupied my mind with menial, meaningless tasks, and on the weekends, copious amounts of legal drugs. There's this leaf from my home planet that when dried and smoked, gives the user a calming, almost weightless effect. It would consume all of my time off, but that just meant I didn't have to think about them. Kept the screams at bay when I slept. If I slept.A moment of contemplation passes as Catherine collects herself.So anyway, one day I was sorting through my junk mail, throwing them in the bin one at time like always. Among them was a rather thick manila envelope embroidered with the Atlas company logo at the top, no return address. Come to think of it, my address wasn't on there either. Must have been delivered by the sender.Inside was a typed note with galactic coordinates of that gas giant and a notation for its moon specifically. Under that, an image of the moon as it was when I had arrived there. And at the bottom, in bold lettering, three simple words with immeasurable weight: “They weaponized it.”There was a lot of other data and extremely damning evidence that I had been lied to, at least for a time. Another picture of the moon, but this time burnt to a crisp and still smoldering as I had seen it with my own eyes when I was brought home. They had taken our research, what little of the ecosystem was necessary, and moved our operations off-world. They had washed their hands of the consequences with hellfire and profited off the deaths of my colleagues.According to the dossier, the company had already completed the research and had sold patents to the military for use as ordinance. There were notes on front line dispersal and deployment tactics. A memo, dated three weeks earlier, laid out the proper shipment and disposal procedures for a creature who's Latin name was identical to one of the specific strains of mites they were testing in the hab that day. They were essentially going to start breeding gun powder.I was at a loss for words. Anger, fear, disgust, and many more feelings welled up inside me to the point my lunch almost came up with it.The next few weeks were a blur. All my attempts to get the truth out were stonewalled into submission. So, I did what any scientist worth their salt would do in that situation. I doubled down. Of course, that's when the censorship started. Friends would never receive messages, the signal to my home Visiscreen was cut multiple times without acknowledgment from authorities, let alone apprehension of the culprit. They didn't even try to hide it. I went to the global media, they said they'd be in touch. I spoke to anyone who would listen, but it felt like my voice was being drowned out, ignored, or outright blocked.I was sitting alone in my apartment one evening; my power had been shut off multiple times that month due to “outages”. Hard to believe when none of my neighbors were effected. The lights were on at the time, so I was taking the opportunity to go over the dossier that had almost doubled in volume when a knock sounded at the door.I quickly packed it all up and hastily hid the pile under a blanket. I carefully approached the door and peeked through the peephole, surprised at who I found there. Opening the door, I was greeted by a smiling, familiar face. “Hey Cat,” he said.Ryan had been my peer and, arguably, my better when it came to strategy during our time in mandatory service. We sat and reminisced about the good old days. I laughed at the captain's uniform he now wore. It didn't take long for the elephant to enter the room.“What brings you to Yaris?” Such a simple question, followed by such a heavy answer.“I wanted to deliver this to you personally.” he said, holding two envelopes in front of him. He wasn't yet offering them to her, simply holding them, clearly contemplating if this was the correct course of action. He bit his lip. My concern grew. His hand extended.When I hadn't taken them from him, he placed them on the coffee table between us. I couldn't help but read the logos on each envelope. I sucked my teeth. Ryan immediately went on the defensive, but I was already on my feet.“No.” was all I could get out as my face turned red with anger.
“Just hear them out.” I shook my head. “Cat...”
“Don't you call me that!” I barked.
“Catherine. Please. Just...” He was also standing.
“No!” I let out some anger on the nearest object that wouldn't break by being thrown across the room.“You've been making waves.”
“I don't care.”
“Its why I even caught word of this in the first place. Do you have any idea what these people are capable of? Cat, I'm trying to help you. I came all the way down here to give this to you in person because – we have – history. I don't want to see you go down the path you're on.”Our relationship had always been professional, this was no exception. The history he was talking about was all the late nights and heated discussions we had when studying or working on a project. My feelings for him never reached beyond friend, though sometimes, I wished it had. Right now I wish I hadn't said the things I did in my journal about him. I wish he didn't look so dashing in that uniform. I calmed down and took a breath, for what I realized was the first time in a minute, and let it out slowly. He is not the enemy.“Look,” Ryan said, sitting back down, “Either you take this deal, or you go to prison. It's really that simple, Voss.” He did not want to be having this conversation. The years were starting to show on him with that graying hair.“W-what do they want me to do?” I croaked through a tight throat as the tears threatened their way up. Ryan took my awkward gasping to keep them down as a good sign. He saw me relax a bit, so he relaxed as well. “They are suing you for defamation.” He hesitated. Everything inside me roared, “bullshit!” but I remained quiet, willing to hear the rest of what he had to say despite the tears gaining ground behind my eyes. He continued.“They've offered an olive branch, though.” He picked up the envelope with the company logo on it. “This is a contract for solo deep space exploration.”My body tensed. I knew what it meant. Basically you, a ship, supplies, and a heading. That's about it. I would spend the next 15-30 years of my life in isolation doing nothing more than taking pictures and mapping terrestrial bodies and the paths to them. They were silencing me without killing me.“It's a way out of this.”
“It's a death sentence.” I hissed.
“Just – just read it.” His hand was holding out the envelope. He flapped it around in the air like a cat toy. I snatched it playfully. I couldn't stay mad at him. I opened it and read how many zeros were attached to the offer amount. My eyebrows were so intrigued, they raised by themselves. He smiled as much as the tense moment would allow.So, here I am, in the darkest, farthest possible place from the next living human being, in orbit around – she checks a screen off to her right – XMC 31627a, making one last journal entry before going down to the planet. I, uhm, I found an anomaly here and want to take a closer look before officially reporting it. I literally haven't seen anything interesting in months and honestly just want to get out of this damn ship. A nervous laugh.If something should happen to me, I wanted to make this last entry in case – sigh – I don't know. Maybe one day, the events of Lethe can be exposed. Until then, I'm off to explore anomaly 1-4-7. This is Dr. Catherine Voss, signing off.She leans forward and turns off the camera, worry evident on her face.
Round Two
It happened fast. It happened exactly like the movies had warned us it would happen. I remember laughing with friends in high school about what our plans would be. Most were ridiculous, over the top, and unrealistic. But we were having fun. Little did I know then what kind of hell I would go through.It started in small, isolated locations. The kind of places no one knows about until something horrific happens which forever seals their place in history. Take Salem for example. I bet you couldn't even point to it on a map. But you know what happened there.My hometown wasn't affected until late in the spread. Every single white collar office slave who owned a tent decided it would be a good idea to head into the woods and suddenly live off the land. It just moved the hoards closer.My mom had figured it would be best to just hunker down and hide in the root cellar. I argued everyone who came across the property would have the same idea. Or worse, take the house and make us live in fear.She never did let me take command as man of the house after dad died. Too painful a thought, I think. Either way, we were overrun faster than expected with the living, who are far more dangerous, then the dead.Both factions left our home in ruins. It sits atop that hill a burnt husk of a memory, my childhood among the ashes. I never looked back at the flames as we crested the hill, on our way to town where Uncle Ray was waiting with a van to take us – well, somewhere. The adults had a plan, I guess. I too qualified as an adult at twenty two years old, but I was still a baby in my mother's eyes.She does, however, trust me to lead the way out of town through all the backwoods, back doors, and unmarked trails me and my friends had discovered over the years. We didn't see a single soul until Silver Street.We managed to make it forty miles out of town before we ran out of gas and options. We had collected enough food and water to make it for a while, but we needed a more permanent solution. Everyone did.We ended up trapped in one of the many "safe havens" that popped up everywhere. They weren't safe at all. Just lead to more deaths and an exponential increase in everything negative that comes with being human in those days. We lost everything but the clothes on our backs. Stolen at gun point or quietly, it didn't matter. If you can't defend it, it's not yours. Rules of the jungle I guess.Nevertheless we did find some decent refuge in a quaint little church that was offering shelter and blankets. We still had to scavenge food and just about everything else. That first winter taught a lot of hard lessons.That church is where I met TB. That's not his real name, but he accepted the nickname with open arms. One evening around a fire, he was laughing louder than the rest at the joke that he is the "token black guy" of this horror flick which means he has to die first. Yeah, it was morbid, but the world around us was worse. The abbreviation caught on and we just started calling him TB, which came with its own set of jokes.He became my best friend that night. He became my brother the day my mom got the cough and didn't make it through the night. He stayed at her bed all night with me. I'll never forget that he did that.I met sandy as a few tribes started interacting again in the spring. She introduced us to Wyatt and the others. We became inseparable that summer.We learned to hunt, to fight, and to kill. No one challenged our authority and experience.Then a miracle happened. The hoards began to thin, the wildlife began to thrive again. Wolves were finally strong enough to defend their packs. They did most of the clearing for us.As new areas became safe, new resources became available. Yeah, there was some infighting among certain groups, but generally, we tended to get along.A town within a days walk to the city became ground zero for rebuilding society. Many groups found their way to us and word spread. “Southgate was the safest place around” they'd say. I couldn't help but focus on everything wrong with that statement every time I heard it.Years passed without a single sighting. No bites, no sickness, nothing. But I never let my guard down. I stockpiled supplies, canned food, secured sources of water, and generally tagged myself as the paranoid one. No one stopped me from prepping, as long as I wasn't hoarding supplies and others went without. So I decided it would make sense to open a general store so my preps can be shared and secured at the same time.Canned food and bottled water were meticulously inventoried. Any scraps the scavenger teams brought back were sorted and stockpiled. We had ourselves a little oasis, complete with our own trade depot.Everything was going fine until that last day. Sandy was sweeping the floor. She looked outside at some commotion happening down the street. Her body language told me something was up. I stood beside her and we both watched as a black woman sprinted down the sidewalk on the other side of the road from us and was tackled to the ground by another lady. Pure, ravenous rage was in her eyes. She tore into the poor woman, blood running down the front of her."It's happening again." I said flatly.Sandra was already moving before I could start giving commands. The signal was given and I watched as each of my friends' faces hardened. They knew what to do. They knew what was ahead. A few patrons muddled about, watching stupidly as we went into lock down. The massive steel door that sat to the side of the entrance was suddenly no longer a decorative piece like in those hipster joints that are just a renovated building from 1937 or whatever. It now covered and ensured security across the whole front wall of the store.The entire rear wall was sealed with loud bangs as more steel fell from the ceiling. Eight separate plates had been hung from the ceiling in a way that when a rope is cut, all eight fall down into place like giant shutters, only vertical. Wyatt ran around bolting them shut at the bottom. I unlocked a closet in the back and started passing out duffle bags.Inside each was a full kit, complete with armor, sustainment, medical, and a suppressed rifle. The bags weighed over 80lbs each. My team geared up as the people who just happened to be in there gawked at the spectacle. One man demanded we set them free, spouting something about false imprisonment and whatnot. He shut up when I told him he's free to leave and he saw what was happening outside. He knew what those sounds meant. He started helping move some supplies, the others slowly following suit. Barricades reinforced the building's weak spots. Sandra organized setting up the generator I had staged in the corner.TB and Eddy were away at the time. Protocol would have them arriving here as soon as they were able. That could mean a few days depending on variables. They were banging on the door in full kit within two hours.They had cleared their sectors and hopped in through the open door. TB had gauze wrapped on his arm. I noticed his eyes had a red tint to them. He subsequently had several rifles trained on him before the door was closed, mine included. He knew protocol. He knew better. I didn't give him time to explain, we just secured him to a pole. His face was desperate, sad. He said nothing as I tightened his restraints, my eyes never leaving his. We all knew the risks, we all knew the consequences, so rule number one was don't get bit. But I would not leave my friend empty handed. I gave him back his rifle, leaving it chambered. He nodded, understanding the gesture of honor, and a way out. He was cleared within the hour and was already getting stitches. I heard later it was a fence that did it.It was going to be a long night, but this time, we would be ready for round two.
A Simple Transaction
The one stood upright as the other entered the show box. They shared a formal greeting. He was a tall, slender visage of absolute class and high stature.His family owned most of the planet; he, her attention. At her voice command, the wall before them became transparent from this side. On the other, a full team, dressed in sterile, white gowns, inspected and measured her newest acquisition as he ran gracefully on a treadmill, sweat beading down his dark chest."Magnificent" the tall one said, gazing upon the creature. His eyes were full of lust and a little of what she could tell was jealousy that he was only now purchasing such a status symbol. She knew first hand he was not the first to stand in this room.She listed off his statistics, each one more impressive than the last. This specimen was of good stock, and a hardy bloodline.He nodded along as she spoke. He was clearly impressed, though his face betrayed no emotion. She remained quiet as he spoke with his advisors. After a short deliberation, he smiled and asked where to sign. She held out the pad.With the transaction complete, his advisors gone, he lingered in the room for another minute, quiet in thought. They watched as the beast took a break and had a drink of water."I'm curious," he said at last, "what do you call them?"
"Sir?"
"You work rather closely with alien species. Surely you have a name you call them that is not in the records, or anything official like that."She hesitated, unsure whether it was appropriate to use such language with a client of his standing. More than that, she couldn’t help wondering why he would ask such a question at all."H-horses. We call them horses."
He frowned. Anticipating his next question, she quickly added, "that is the closest known animal to their kind from their home world. That is what they were called in the native tongue, so the name stuck. They were commonly used for hauling or pulling. This one was bred for racing, thus the 'racing horse' nomenclature."“And price.” His hands found each other behind his back as his face eased, a bit of disappointment showing through. She had not answered the correct question. "Such a curious name."Another moment passed."Is this one named 'Horse'?"
“No, sir. He does not have a name, only a serial number."His face remained as unreadable as ever. “Give – him?” She nodded. “A name before we depart. I do not wish to call it by the name of its genus or species. It's undignified."She lowered her torso in a formal show of understanding. When he had gone, she looked back at the majestic animal. It was still breathing heavily and staring at itself in the mirrored glass, a look of disdain upon his face. She could not shake the feeling it was staring directly at her, murder in its eyes. These creatures had better lives than most she knew. But how much luxury could a caged pet really live in?She did not look to see if his gaze followed her as she left, commanding the glass to become a wall again.
Falling
I am Falling. Falling toward the ground at incredible speed, yet at the same time, none at all. I know logically I am only perceiving a time dilation as my neurons go into overdrive trying to cope with the inevitability before me.My hair flips in the wind as yet another window passes by me slowly, but with a slight blur because it's moving so fast. Or rather, I am moving, depending on your perspective.You have probably already forgotten the small twinge of, "wait, that's not right" when you read my name. Falling is not really my name. My name is as irrelevant as the name of a stranger in an old photograph. But it is what I am currently doing, so I guess it fits.Perhaps you're wondering why I'm falling. Or maybe why I'm Falling. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. The past is the past and there's nothing I can do about it now. Oh look, another window. That was fast.Unless I suddenly grow wings and feathers, and instinctively know how to fly, there is nothing that matters now. But I will tell you, dear reader. I will tell of the thing that does not matter and the story of how I came to be in this predicament.I would wager most have already clicked off this story and are filling their void of a life with other pleasures impossible to fathom by someone born just one hundred years earlier. How I long for that void now.For those of you who are still here and are not yelling at my words to hurry up and get to the point, welcome to my mind, as it rushes towards certain death.Where did it all go wrong? Where did I go wrong? Well I have to say it all started in high school. No, sooner than that. That was another window. I don't think I have time to explain everything. This building wasn't very tall.Long story short, I woke up chained to a chair, the strong stench of smelling salts filling my nostrils. Two goons that work for the guys I owed money to looked me over in the dim lighting after working me over. Boy did they work me over. That reminds me, I probably won't make it to work tomorrow morning. Another window. Well, I guess my story doesn't really matter that much. Nothing matters.As I grapple with that concept, my mind races to come up with something poetic or profound, or hell, even coherent to think as my last thought. I can think of nothing, for nothing matters now.
The Mechazuran Directive: Sands of Rastegari
Another spoonful of slop landed on my tin. The days rations. It smelled as bad as it tasted, but it was food I guess. My gaze lingered on the little plastic cup next to the steaming pile of brown, wet shit. It contained a single pill. Everyone had to take them every day or we'd get sick. I hated the pills. I'd eat a container full of slop if it meant an end to swallowing a pebble every day that made my stomach do back flips.The wind whipped up and around outside causing some dust to blow in through the broken, shattered remains of nonexistent windows. I covered my face, but didn't bother covering my food. I wasn't going to eat it anyway.As one of the lucky few who were born with half a functioning brain, I was assigned transport duty. It's not a hard job, but it's not easy, either. In order to keep my position, I have to have a clean, accident free record. Hard to do in a place like this, believe me. Looking over my shoulder, I noted some poor soul who was missing an arm. Likely because of some unfortunate accident due to faulty equipment and lack of maintenance. They never gave us anything, but expected everything. Our debt to society, I suppose.Off-world shipping was one of the safest jobs you could get on this rust bucket hell hole of a planet. Located somewhere out in the eastern galactic frontier, Rastegari, as the wardens called it, was a desert penal colony. Failed colony is more like it. We had an indigenous population of pioneers who landed first and got all fucked up in the genes or something. Lost their ability to speak. Most thought they were stupid for that reason and took advantage of them. We called 'em Pikes. Not sure why, but at some point the name just stuck. Rumor had it they could communicate telepathically, but I don't know how much I believe that.Since they were technically the first settlers, and therefore owners of the planet, they came and went as they pleased. Once some egghead in charge decided it wasn't fit to colonize, it was turned into a penal planet. That's right, a penal planet. You could just walk away and no one would stop you because there is literally nothing out there. Kind of self regulating in a way. If the insects didn't get you, the exposure to the toxic atmosphere and general unpleasantness of that place would. 'Course one could argue that what I experienced every day wasn't much better. I digress.As I was standing in line, about to give my meal away for some smokes, a ruckus erupted at the far end of the mess hall. Apparently one of the Pikes had butted in line or something and lost his teeth for it. Security came and broke up the fight before it escalated into a brawl, a common occurrence in these parts. They beat all who were involved. It didn't matter who started it, they ended it.The security forces on Rastegari carried batons and, for the more unruly among us, laser pistols capable of ripping a large hole through any meat unlucky enough to get in the way. They didn't fuck around when outnumbered ten to one.I made my way through the crowd and into the storm. That stupid place always seemed to have a storm raging somewhere. Even if the winds died down, and the sky cleared up, the atmosphere would still have a sickening yellow-orange hue to it. I think all the SO2 plays a part in the color, which makes sense since it's why we have to take pills every day. I've heard a lot of theories as to the history of the planet to explain its barely habitable atmosphere; including it being an oceanic world that drifted too close to its star, it having a red star, or all the sulfur dioxide coming from too much volcanic activity. I don't know, man, I'm not a scientist. All I know is how much it sucked to wake up there every day.Our primary export was sand. Go figure. It was literally everywhere and hard to get rid of. Every day, an absolute shitload gets dumped into what we called containers. Typically twenty four meters square by two meters high, a truck like mine could haul about forty of them into orbit at once. I once asked what the galaxy needed so much sand for and was told to shut up and do my job. Fair enough.I found Nara crying into a blanket of mine when I got home to said truck. Apparently her uncle had tried to stop the fight earlier. He was out of work for a while because of the beating he received. I asked her why she was here and not at home with him. She signed that she would rather have my company. I took the Pike girl into my arms and we spent the rest of the day lounging and reading the few books I had to my name. We made love that night.Sex was outlawed on Rastegari. The last thing a prison needs are babies without residence who are both owners of the prison as well as inmates for life. It's a complicated mess with lots of paperwork involved and the powers that be decided it would be simpler to just outlaw it. As a result, every new inmate is cut before arrival. 'Course that doesn't stop the human body from trying anyway and occasionally succeeding, so thus, outlawed. We didn't care, though. We fucked like there was no tomorrow because, on Rastegari, you never know, there may not be.The only reason I had so much free time was because I had been grounded for weeks without any explanation. All they told me was to sit and wait. So that's what I did. All day, every day. Nara would make this amazing stew from plants and critters that lived in caves or something. Yeah, I had it pretty good for someone who didn't have anything.A few weeks went by without incident until that bastard Merrick decided to start messing with Nara and her folks. I was already marching that way, running when I saw him throw her to the ground and spit on her. I did the same to him. “They're all a waste of time,” he said belligerently. “They can't understand anything.” In my temper, the words just kinda fell out. “I care for her.” His indignant response was drowned out by my ringing ears and red eyesight. He would never lay another hand on her and live.One night I had dreams of explosions and space ships. Fleets of all kinds ships all fighting with each other. Thousands dead in the first volley. At one point, it felt like I was piloting an incredibly fast craft and shooting at any Collective forces I could get my sights on. I suddenly snapped awake for the third time that night. Had to take a piss.Groggy, I stumbled over the edge of my truck and let the river flow. When I opened my eyes, I was looking skyward, and noticed a flickering light that hadn't been there before. It dawned on me how clear the sky had become. The light was still there in the equally clear early morning when security made their surprise visit.They did this often and with seemingly random targets. You never really knew when you would get stripped down to your skivvies and cavity searched. This morning, it was my turn apparently. I had seen them coming and was scrambling to get my clothes on. I woke up Nara and managed to get my pants on, but was still buttoning them when Sargent Roder came into the “room”, which was essentially just the personnel loading dock at the back of the ship with some sheets hung up. I tended to park up on the bluff above the general pollution below. Better sunrises that way.The search was calm, polite, and easy for them as I was already missing a shirt. I got a lot of leeway with the guards, but even I had to obey the “no sex” rule.I was asked about my indecency and explained the Pike often stayed with me, so my indecency was not a big issue for her. They let me off with a warning, knowing what took place, but unable to prove it. Not that they needed to. I asked what the light was about and received no answer, just a couple looks I couldn't quite place. I saw them to the door and watched as they stopped at a hut down the hill. The air had really cleared up overnight. The sky was more red than sickly yellow, and I could see all the way to the next camp. It was a beautiful morning indeed. Probably one of the clearest I had ever seen.So naturally it was that morning when I received my orders to leave my little patch of heaven. “This can't be right.” I said, calling after the runner who delivered the message. “Hey! This can't be right!”I was to load up as many men and women as I possibly could, no list of serial numbers, no names, Pikes were to be included, and deliver them through the local gate as if they were cargo. I was to leave immediately and without hesitation. Orders like that make a man think. But there was no time to think. Whatever had happened or was about to happen, was coming to my current location, and those orders implied urgency against death. I wasted no time in getting Nara up to speed and spreading the word to her people. The light in the sky was flickering and getting brighter, now visible in the light of day.All but one of my containers were filled to uncomfortable levels and sealed. I tapped my screen, praying number 23 didn't start acting up again. Nara was not back yet. I signaled not ready to traffic control who were wanting me to leave with ever-increasing urgency. Number 23 sealed tight, control said go. I refused. They actually pointed a God damned gun at me. I took off, tears streaking my face. She had better be back there.He pauses to wipe a tearI would not define what I felt for the Pike girl as love, but I found myself feeling like I needed her presence. That's a hard pill to swallow for a guy like me.Once in orbit, the reason for my longer than usual grounding became clear. The local gate was being used to bring an armada of war ships into the system. They were gathering out a ways by the belt. I found a place in line and waited as traffic was directed one way and the other. This was about as close to escaping prison as a man could get. But I didn't want to escape. I had it pretty good there, all things considered. No interplanetary drama bullshit, no in-laws to be disappointed with you, and best of all, no corrupt government officials incarcerating me for a crime I never committed. That's why they trusted me to do this job, I didn't want to leave.When my turn finally came, a desperate command came across all channels. “All vessels, this is control. Everyone just get through the gate while you can!” it said. No destination confirmation, no way to know who to report to on the other side, just go. I was lining up for transit when the fleet started taking fire from some unseen enemy. They were devastated in minutes. Didn't even stand a chance. A few shouts about a planet getting glassed came through open lines and were cut short. Since I was technically first in line, and lined up for transit already, I punched it. There were flashes of what looked like extremely dense green plasma bolts screaming by. A couple hit as I went through the gate.On the other side, we emerged into some random system. A stream of evacuated ships streamed into the nearest planet who was surely not ready for such an influx. It wasn't until a body floated by that I realized how bad the damage may have been. Sure enough, number 23, among others, was flashing again. It was already too late for them, though. Once depressurized, the container is lost. I decided to go to the only other habitable location in system. Happened to be two planets here claimed by man.The old man lets out a long, tired sighWe were officially given refugee status and allowed to make our homes here. I'm sure I'm not the first story you've heard for your little documentary or whatever, but it has been nice to get it off my chest. Thanks, guys.Heard recently the gate was destroyed on the other side. No one has been able to reach it from any system.Never did find the girl again. I hope she got out in time.