Time Snatch, Part 2

The other day I posted the first part of the story, if you haven’t read it yet, you should do so before continuing with this one. It’ll make much more sense that way, I promise. I’ve almost finished with this story, and it will undoubtedly come in at over 20,000 words, so bam..I’m pretty much going to be posting an entire novella here for you guys. Each part could be read independently though, if you were so inclined. As always, thanks for stopping by, and I hope to hear from you. Let me know how you’re liking, or not liking, the stories.

Time Snatch part 2

“Maybe you should give me a crack at him.” I said as Raines closed the interrogation room door. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll get him to talk. What do you got to lose?”

I could see the cogs spinning behind those olive eyes as she turned her gaze to the man sitting on the opposite side of the one way glass. An obscene amount of sweat gathered around his balding forehead giving it the appearance of a freshly waxed bowling ball.

“Ten minutes.” She said  raising a finger to emphasize her point. “Not a second more.”

“We’ll have to skip the foreplay, but I think we’ll make due.” I said spinning in my chair to the computer terminal beside me. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m a shy lover, and a little privacy would go a long way.”

Raines rolled her eyes and held her tongue as she pushed herself away from the desk she had been leaning against. “Don’t make me regret this, Tom. It’s my career on the line.”

“Yeah, and it’s my life.” I said as I pulled up the “Life Time” record for a Mr. James Olhanney before the door had even clicked shut behind Raines. Reading a man’s Life Line is kind of like reading a book. All that man’s choices that eat away at his remaining years are practically laid bare for any man to see. Well, any man to see who has this level of clearance, which they don’t exactly give to men like me. But gals like Raines, yeah, they give that sort of clearance to fine upstanding members of the police force like Raines. It was by pure luck that I happened to guess her password, which was a relief, ‘cause I doubt she’d have given it up willingly had she known what I was planning.

The computer beeped in approval as I rose from the chair. I paused for a moment at the door to the interrogation room watching Mr. Olhanney on the other side of the glass as he suddenly became incredibly interested in his Life Tracker. It would’ve been funny, if not for the fact that the poor bastard thought he only had ten minutes left to live. He tried standing up, but with his hands still cuffed to the table, it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere.

“Hey! Is somebody out there! I need to see the Detective!” He said trying to pull himself free from the table.

That’s my cue, I thought as I opened the door.

“Oh, thank God. You have to help me. He’s taking my time, all of it. It’s gone. I only have ten minutes left. Please, you have to help me.”

I paused for dramatic effect as I closed the door behind me with a soft click. “Stop dancing around and hold out your arm.”

Olhanney did his best to remain still, but the anxiety of imminent death caused him to shake and shiver uncontrollably.

“Ahh, well… that’s too bad, but you know the rules. We’re each only given 75 years to live, how you spend them is up to you.” I said lowering myself into the metal chair across from the blustering man. “Do you have any last words, regrets, maybe a confession or two?”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I didn’t spend my years; I had 33 years left when they brought me in here. He stole 33 years from me. He’s trying to get rid of me so I can’t talk. You gotta help me, please!”

“Slow down and let’s get to the bottom of this. First of all, would you care to elaborate on who you think is responsible for siphoning your years?” I said lighting the end of the cigarette in my mouth.

“Ma..ma..malcolm.. Malcolm Netten.” James Olhanney said clasping his hands together in prayer as he sat back down in his chair. Poor guy was doing all he could to contain the tears welling in the corner of his eyes.

“Even if he could take them, what would the infamous Malcolm Netten want with your measly 33 years? He has millions of years stored away in God knows where.” I let out a puff of smoke. “You don’t happen to know where he put those years, do you?”

“No.” James eyes shifted nervously between the number slowly creeping down to zero on his forearm and me. “You don’t understand.”

“Help me understand, James.”

“If I tell you anything, I’m as good as dead.”

“And yet if you tell me nothing, you’re still equally dead. Do yourself a favor and tell me what you know about Malcolm’s escape. You were the guard personally responsible for monitoring Netten when he broke out. Now, if I was a more cynical man, I’d say you might’ve played a role in that escape.”

That did it. The tears broke the seal and now there was a 42 year old man bawling like a baby in front of me. I think I’d rather be shot at.

“You don’t know this man; he has power, power you can’t even imagine. There’s no stopping him. He kills everyone that gets in his way, nobodies safe? What was I supposed to do? What would you have done?”

This man didn’t know me, but that was a loaded question. I had some personal experience with that particular threat, and given how things played out for me, I can’t say I exactly blamed poor James here for choosing the path he did.

“You’re gonna run me through everything, from the top, and if I think for even a second that you’re holding out on me, well… I’m just gonna sit here and watch you die.” I  blew another cloud of smoke across the table.

“Ok, ok, I swear I’ll tell you everything. Please, just return my years to me. I only have…” James looked down at his forearm before a fresh batch of tears sprung from the side of his face. “6 minutes!”

                “We can cover a lot of ground in six minutes. Better start talking.”

*

“You didn’t break your toy already?” Raines said as I stepped out of the dimly lit interrogation unit.

“Nah, I got everything I needed out of him.”

“With a whole minute to spare.” She said holding her wrist up so I could see her watch. “So, did he sing?”

“Like a bird.” I said dropping my cigarette butt into a glass of water on some young officer’s desk. “Malcolm bribed him, an extra hundred years divided among Olhanney, his wife, and his daughter.”

“Oh? And how was Olhanney planning to explain the sudden influx of a hundred years to his family’s life cycle?’

“Well, that’s part of a problem we’re gonna have to deal with.” I said. “Malcolm was going to cover his tracks with a sneaky extension program that freezes Olhanney and his family’s Life Tracker at the age of 60. The counter would still appear to be working, but the time would no longer be ticking away. By that time, he would be long retired and off our radar. Since his wife and daughter would each have an additional 33 years, people would just assume he had made some savvy investments that paid off huge.” I turned around and opened the door to the Interrogation Unit as, ever the gentlemen I am, I allowed Raines to enter first.

“Hm… something doesn’t seem right. I get the feeling Malcolm never intended to let Olhanney cash in on those years.” She said as I closed the door behind her.

“That would be a fir…”

“What the hell did you do, Tom!” Raines voice jumped an octave sending a bolt of adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“What do you mean?” I said as I side-stepped around her to see what she was staring at in the Interrogation Room.

My stomach twisted as I observed Olhanney’s lifeless body in the center of the room, the upper half of his body hovered above the ground as the handcuffs held his wrists to the top of the table.

“Alaina, I swear to you, I didn’t do that. He was alive and perfectly well when I left this room just a minute ago. I double checked his Life Tracker even to make sure he still had time.”

“And?

“And what?”

“How much time did he have left?”

“Almost 34 years.” I said following Raines into the room.

She pulled the man’s sleeve down before looking back up to me with her eyes slightly squinting. “Says he has zero years left, Tom.”

“That can’t be possible. I swear to you, I made sure to put those years back on there.”

“Wait… to put those years back on there? What’re you talking about? Did you take his years away to get him too talk?”

I paused for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of my potential response. “Okay, fine, you got me. I took his years away, putting him down as low as the system will let you go.”

“You put him all the way down to ten minutes? What the hell were you thinking, Tom!” Raines said throwing her arms out to her side as she stood up from the body.

“I was thinking I ain’t got all the time in the world to sit around waiting for answers. I had to do something, and it worked. He talked, told me everything he knows, which puts us light-years ahead of where we were ten minutes ago, so if anything you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? Are you out of your goddamn mind? I leave you in here for ten minutes and you kill our only witness? I hope you’re happy, Tom. I hope it was worth it, cause Marin is going to have more than my badge for this, he’s going to throw me in jail.”

“Listen,” I said holding my hands up in front of me to slow her down. “I promise you, on Diana’s grave, I did not kill this man. I returned 33 years to his Life Line before I came out to talk to you. Check the computer records if you don’t believe me, but I swear, I did not do this.”

Raines studied me for a hot minute, scorching holes in me with her stare as she ruminated on my words. I’m a lot of things, but a liar ain’t one of them. Right now, I was just hoping she’d recall that particular fact.

”So how do you propose this happened? Nobody had access to this room; you and I were standing outside the only entrance.”

“Malcolm must have siphoned his years from a remote location.”

“That still would have left Olhanney with ten minutes, Tom. You and I both know the system is safeguarded against anybody taking somebodies entire Life Line. At most, Malcolm could put him in the red zone, but we were outside talking for less than five minutes. This man should still be alive.” She said stretching a finger towards corpse still dangling by the wrists from the table.

“I think we have to assume that Malcolm has figured out how to override the safeguards then. At any point, he could siphon all the time from any person with class 2 clearances or lower.”

It was almost imperceptible, but I had known Raines long enough to recognize the look of panic that had momentarily flashed across her face. “How is something like that even possible?”

“I don’t know, but that brings me to the second thing I learned from Mr. Olhanney before his untimely demise.”

“Which is?”

“Malcolm is working with somebody very high up the food chain from the International Time Bank, which would explain how he has hacked their system to override the Final Countdown safeguard.”

“We have to inform the President.” The edge in her voice was jagged, sharp, and brittle. “He could kill billions of people, Tom… instantly.”

“I guess we should probably stop him first, huh?” I said hoping sheer bravado could compensate for pure fear.

 *

Raines was in one of those moods as we hopped in the car. I tried to shed a bit of levity on the situation as the vehicle came to life with a soft hum.

She was having none of it. She gave me a quick sideways glance as the magnets beneath the car propelled us off the third story of the parking garage before banking right and ascending to join the stopped traffic of Highway 32 overhead. It quickly became clear that the ride over to the International Time Bank was going to be a quiet one full of inner reflection. That was all fine and good seeing as how I didn’t really have anything of value to say at that particular moment anyhow.

I could see our reflection in the glass of the skyscrapers as we skimmed through the air towards our destination. It’d been almost seven years since I last sat inside a car. Almost seven years since I turned to the bottle to drown my grief. Almost seven years since I drove my squad car through the 19^th floor of an office building and found myself unceremoniously relieved from the force.

When I fell, I fell hard. Determined to get out of this life as quick as possible, I impressively lost over thirty years of my life in the span of seven. Now how ironic is it that on the day I’m scheduled to pass on, I finally find something worth sticking around for.

I watched the numbers on my forearm as they continue their inevitable march downwards.

2 days, 15 hours, 34 minutes, 12 seconds.

In the long run, revenge ain’t much of a reason to hang around for, but for now it’ll have to do.

I was torn from my pity party as the image of a man’s head suddenly appeared above the center console of the car’s holo-screen.

“What is it, Walter?” Raines said keeping her eyes glued to the sky ahead.

“Detective Raines, an agent from Internal Review is here to question you about the death of Olhanney this afternoon.”

“Put him on.” Raines said through tightened lips.

Walter’s face disappeared briefly before that of an elderly gentlemen appeared. “This is Agent Stevens with the Internal Review. Under Article 23, I’m issuing you a direct order to return to the headquarters where you will undergo a full debriefing of the events that transpired this afternoon leading up to the death of the witness James Olhanney.”

I locked eyes with Raines as she processed the man’s order. I was surprised by the long silence that filled the air as Raines took longer than I had expected in delivering her response.

“Detective Raines, I need you to confirm that you understand my directions and are taking steps to return to headquarters…immediately.”

“Agent Stevens,” she said finally breaking her silence. “I am on my way to meet with the President of the International Time Bank. I’m afraid this debriefing will have to wait.”

The wrinkles above the Agent’s forehead became visible, even on the holo-screen as he said, “No, you do not seem to understand the severity of the situation you find yourself in. This is not a debate, and I will allow no concessions. Return to headquarters immediately, or you will be placed under arrest for the obstruction of justice. Am I making myself clear?”

Raines swallowed hard as she lowered the throttle and the car’s auto-pilot began communicating with the parking garage computers of the International Time Bank, as the building took control of gliding us safely into a parking spot.

“I’ll take your silence as proof of your…”

“Excuse me, just a moment.” I said directing the car’s camera away from Raines’ face and towards mine. “Hi, can you see me?”

“What is this? Put Detective Raines back on, now.”

“Sorry, bucko, I can’t do that.” I said staring into the camera. “Now don’t get all huffy, cause I’m actually doing you a favor, in a way. If I let Raines return to headquarters right now, we’re gonna lose the only lead we have in finding Malcolm Netten. You remember who that is, right?”

The wrinkles around Agent Steven’s brows contorted from ones of anger to creases of confusion. “Yes, I’m fully aware of your investigation, Mr. Mandel. I’m also aware of the personal vendetta you have with Mr. Netten. From what I gather, the need for expediency is due to your need, not ours. Detective Raines is being removed from this case effective immediately. As for you, Mr. Mandel, you were never on the case. You are a civilian, and have no jurisdiction what-so-ever. In fact, depending on how my meeting with Detective Raines goes, you may very well find yourself facing criminal charges.”

“I ain’t got much time left, so it’s gonna have to be a pretty quick trial.”

“Even so, how you spend your remaining days on this Earth is entirely dependent upon your ability to follow an order, and return to headquarters.”

“Did you happen to read the part in the report that says Netten has figured a way around the Final Countdown safeguard?” I said studying Steven’s face for any sign of understanding.

“Yes, I read that part as well. We are still looking into the veracity of that claim. For the time being, it is the Bureau’s position that the safeguard has not been compromised. It is much more likely that the cause of Olhanney’s death was due to other motivating factors.” Steven’s said.

“Ah, that’s fair. It’s much easier to accept that a washed up ex-cop with a grudge and a search for vengeance killed the only witness to Netten’s escape. Easier to accept doesn’t make it true, though, and the longer you fools decide to keep your head in the sand, the more bodies you’re gonna have on your hand.”

“This conversation is over, Mr. Mandel. Detective Raines, I am still waiting for your answer.”

Raines’ head hung low as she shook it side-to-side with her eyes closed.

“Blame it on me, Agent Stevens.” I said making sure to keep the camera pinned on me. “I can’t let her do that. I’ll make sure she gets home nice and safe, but not ‘til the job is done.”

Steven’s face took on the hue of a tomato as I ended the video call. The holo-viewer went silent as the Agent’s face disappeared into the ether of space.

“Let’s go.” Raines said as she opened the car door and stepped out into the parking garage. “We don’t have much time before a team gets here to arrest us.”

                “Probably best if we try not to be here when that happens.” I said following her into the building.

*

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but President Jennings is in a board meeting at the moment. I can take a message if you’d like, but I’m afraid he has no openings this afternoon to meet with you.” The woman said looking up at Raines from behind designer glasses that seemed present only for their cosmetic value.

Raines turned to me with hands outstretched. This is where she would usually flash her badge and they’d trip on themselves to accommodate her, but Mr. Jennings was the most powerful man in the world, and only a direct request from the Chief of Police himself would pull the President of the ITB from a meeting. Given the conversation that had taken place moments before in the car, it seemed unlikely we’d be getting any sort of assistance from the higher ups at the Police force on this one.

“If you’d like, President Jennings has an opening next Tuesday at 3:00. It’s a bit unorthodox, but for the Police, I’m sure he’d make an exception.”

What kind of pedestal was this man accustomed to living on that he makes exceptions for the police? Well, not that either Raines or myself were here under any kind of official capacity at the moment, but little miss designer glasses didn’t know that.

“Nah, that doesn’t work me for.” I said moving quickly towards the large double doors of the meeting room before the woman could intercept me. The door handle remained fixed in place as I tried to pull it open.

Damn. Locked. I was afraid of that.

“Sir, you can’t go in there.” The secretary jumped from her seat. “I’m calling security.” She said reaching for the phone on the desk.

“No, no, it’s okay. I have the key right here.” I said pulling the handgun from the holster around my ankle.

“Whoa, Tom.” Raines said reaching a hand out to stop me. “Don’t do…”

Her words came too late as I aimed the weapon at the door and squeezed the trigger. The pulse of energy from the gun tore through the door as it ripped the slab of wood off its hinges. My nose burned from the smoke of singed wood wafting in the air as I stepped into the room full of alarmed business men and woman sitting around a large oval table. Two guards standing beside the man at the head of the table drew their weapons and directed the pointy end of their guns towards my head.

“Easy, fellas, I don’t intend on hurting anyone, but I tend to get a little twitchy in situations where guns are aimed at me, so how about you put those things down on the table and back away nice and slowly, otherwise I might inadvertently put a hole in President Jennings there.”

The two men never took their eyes off of me as they stood their ground.

“Mr. President, I’m on a bit of a time crunch, so how about we hurry this along and you tell your men to stand down. This is me asking nicely. If I have to ask again, it’s gonna end badly for at least two people in this room. Me, and you.”

Jennings raised his right hand slightly from the table as he lazily gestured for the guards to stand down. Like a pair off automated machines, the two guards complied instantly as they placed their guns on the table before backing away.

“Thank you” I said letting the weight of the gun pull my arm down to the side where I allowed it to hang casually.

“What do you want?” Jennings said practically hissing the words.

“I was just wondering which one of ya’ll helped Malcolm Netten escape from prison.”

The room had been silent, but now with the revelation that Netten was free from prison, there was a certain kind of electricity coursing through the board members as their eyes flittered between one another.

“I’m guessing that’s news to most of you.” I said letting my eyes rest on Jennings. “But you already knew that, didn’t you Mr. President.”

The remainder of the eyes in the room joined mine as they fixed on President Jennings. If the sudden attention bothered the President, it would have been impossible to tell as he methodically shifted his gaze on each person, one-by-one, at the table before returning at last to me.

“That information has not yet been made public, Mr., I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve ever been introduced?”

“You can call me, Tom.”

“Well, Tom,” The ice melted in Jennings voice as a smile parted his lips. “I’m sure we’d all love to hear how you have jumped to the dramatic conclusion,” He said raising a palm to gesture to the dilapidated door at my feet. “That one of us here is responsible for helping the man who has stolen millions of years from our vault? At the moment, he is the only person I can think of who I’d rather see in jail more than you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Mr. President. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, but that doesn’t change the fact that Netten has overridden the Final Countdown safeguard. The safeguard that, last I checked, could only be changed by…you.” I said watching the reactions of the board members through my peripheral vision. All eyes were still glued to the President as they awaited his response… everybody with the exception of one.

“I can assure you, that there is no override to the saf…”

“Who’s that?” I said interrupting Jennings as I turned to the youngish looking man fitted in a tailored blue suit sitting at the opposite end of the table from the President.

The man looked up from the spot on the table he had been staring at seconds before with some of the guiltiest eyes I’ve ever seen. “Me? I’m nobody.” The man said trying his best to disappear deeper into his leather chair.

“Even the biggest somebodies start off as a nobody. Now what’s your name?” I lifted my weapon from my side to give the young man some additional motivation. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of movement as one of Jennings guards made a dash for his gun still sitting on the table.

I turned, but he had me by a step as he pulled the weapon up and fired off a shot. The bolt of energy scarred the air around me as I narrowly dove out of the way.

A second shot hummed through the air followed by a man’s scream as a body crumpled to the floor. Lifting my head from my hiding spot behind the table, I saw the smoke still trailing towards the sky of Raines’ gun as she stood in the doorway. With the help of the table I hoisted myself to my feet as I looked at the guards writhing body on the ground.

“Thanks, but I had it covered.” I said grabbing the young man in question by the collar as I yanked him to his feet.”

“Of course you did.” Raines said as she glanced down at an incoming message on her phone. “We gotta go, Tom. I disabled all entrances to this floor, but that’ll only slow the guards for a moment.”

“Not ‘til I find out who this fella is.” I said tapping the barrel of my gun against the man’s forehead.

“That is Vice-President Hamilton’s son, Derek.” Jennings said from the other end of the table. “I would advise you to think twice before doing anything to harm him.”

“You aren’t the slightest bit interested in why young Derek here helped Netten create a kill switch for every class two citizen in the world?” I said.

“I didn’t do anything.” Derek Hamilton said mustering all the bravado he could manage.

A sudden explosion from the waiting area rocked the entire floor of the building. I grabbed the table for support as the ground swayed underfoot.

“Time’s up.” I said above the ringing in my ears as I grabbed Raines by the arm and pulled her to the window running from floor to ceiling on the other side of the room. I didn’t bother aiming as I fired a round from the hip, sending shards of glass raining down the side of the building. I felt glass crunching under foot as we pulled up just shy of the precipice.

“Tom, what’re you doing?” Raines’ words reverberated through my body as she shouted them in my ear. I gave one final look back at the conference room. Guards in full tactical gear were flooding into the waiting area as I felt a bolt of energy electrify the air around me as it sailed overhead and through the broken window into the clear daytime sky.

I locked eyes with the President as I pulled Raines close and pushed away from the building. The soft fluorescent lights of the office building suddenly gave way to the unbridled power of the sun as Raines and I tumbled through the sky, gaining speed as we rocketed towards the ground from ninety stories up.

I lost my focal point on the building as we spun in circles. The dizziness induced a stomach wrenching nausea that if I had not currently been hurdling towards the ground at a most fatal velocity, I would have certainly found myself relieving the contents of my stomach via my mouth. As my heart rose higher in my throat, I thought for a moment, that I might have made a terrible mistake.

And then, everything slowed down as if we had dove into a pool of honey. The artificial gravity of the building slowed our descent as it began sucking us back in towards its glassy sides. Our downward momentum suddenly shifted into horizontal movement as we entered the gravitational pull of the International Time Banks parking garage.

The pull of the parking garages artificial gravity beam was designed for cars weighing a bit more than a couple humans hugging each other for dear life. The effect was one of us being shot into the parking garage like a couple stones from a slingshot straight towards a car parked at the far end of the lot. Twisting in the air, I shielded Raines with one arm as I fired a shot into the ground just to the side of us. The blast from the bolt of energy exploding into the floor knocked us sideways and free from the gravitational traction beam.

Everything spun around me as we skidded across cement parking garage floor. I almost blacked out from the pain as my elbows and knees smashed against the unforgiving ground as I careened into the side of a BMW 7000M. The metallic casing of the vehicle’s door gave way under the force of my body crashing into it. My head whiplashed into the side of the car, and my body came to a bone jarring  stop.

I tried to blink away the disorientation as I ran a hand against the back of my head. Blood dampened my hair as it leaked from a gash sustained during my reintegration with gravity. Using the car for support, I grunted to my feet as I searched for Raines.

She was still lying on her side, wedged beneath the back bumper of cargo van as I knelt down beside her. “Anything broken?” I said grabbing her by the arm as I helped remove her from beneath the vehicle.

“Just my faith in humanity.” She said propping herself up against the van as she regained her bearings.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I think I would’ve rather been shot.” She said clutching her left arm to her side. “How in the world did you know we were directly above the parking garage grav-beam?”

“Just a hunch.” I said ripping the sleeve from her shirt to tie around the source of the river of blood streaming down her arm. “I don’t know how fast those guards can get down ninety floors of stairs, but just to be safe, we should probably get going.”

“Um… Tom?”

“What?” I said looking up from the makeshift bandage.

Raines eyes were wide, though not with fear, but surprise.

As I turned around I saw the source of her surprise.

We were staring down the barrels of a dozen automatic rifles as a squadron of police officers stood in a semi-circle around Raines and me.

“We surrender.” I said slowly placing my gun on the ground next to me.

 

© 2012 Anthony Vicino

Time Snatch

Well, I suppose it’s the holiday season so I should give you guys something particularly special this week. This story is going to be slightly different than the others, in particular because of it’s length. At the moment, the story is 15,000 words which is twice as long as the longest story I’ve previously posted. 15,000 is pushing pretty close to a full on Novella, which in the future I might come back and flush the story out a bit more to pump it over 20,000 words. For the time being, I wanted to share what I had with ya’ll, so what I’m going to do is post another section of the story every other day with the finale coming on the 25th, aka Christmas Day. So here ya go, remember, I love hearing from you guys. Tell me if you like the story, tell me you hate the story, tell me the characters names are dumb, or that all my characters sit around looking at each other too much.. doesn’t matter what you have to say, I’d love to hear it!

Time Snatch

“That bad, huh? How much time ya got left?”

It’s not polite to ask a man how much time he’s got left. A social faux pas if you will. But when you spend as much time on a barstool as I do, you allow for a certain amount of faux pas’ery.

“23 hours.” I said raising my glass of beer in salute to the stranger before pouring the remainder down my perpetually chapped throat. The numbers on my forearm didn’t seem to like that, as they counted down another hour. “Scratch that, 22 hours.” I said wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

So much for social faux pas’.

“Wow, don’t you have some, I don’t know, some family you’d rather be with?” the stranger said obviously regretting his decision to engage with a man balanced so precariously upon his chair.

“All the family I got, all the family I need, is right here… Ain’t that right, Joe?”

Joe looked up from behind the bar as he made sure the inside of a glass was squeaky clean. “’Til the day you die, Tom.”

“What more could you ask for?” I said sliding my empty glass across the bar top. “Joe, help ease my transition into the afterlife with another glass, would ya?”

“Good God, man. You only have 22 hours to live and you’re wasting it away on booze?”

“How long you got?” I said kicking the bar stool to the ground behind me as I stood up a tad too quickly.

“I uh…um, I got…”

“Calm down, I’m not gonna take it from ya. I just wanna know how long you got?”

The man offered a quick glance down at his forearm as if he didn’t already have the number memorized. You could always tell the ones that had their number memorized. I suppose some people just care more about that sort of thing than others.

“I got, uh… another 63 years.” He said.

“Well, I won’t be around to continue this conversation in 63 years, but when ya get there, in that final week, those final days, you’ll understand why I’m here, in a bar, alone. Cause in the end, all the family and friends in the world won’t make a shit of a difference. Make no mistake, when death comes beckoning with a spindly ass finger pointed your way, you will die, and you will die alone, no sense in fighting it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll continue this party at home, alone, where the company is a little less self-righteous” I said brushing into the man as I walked past.

“What’s his problem?” I heard the man ask Joe.

Joe in his infinite wisdom had it pegged, “That poor son-of-a-bitch lost his reason for living.”

                Good old, Joe. I might actually miss him when I die.

**

I woke up the next morning to the sound of the alarm on my wrist giving me the twelve hour heads up. Almost to the homestretch I thought as I rolled off the couch cradled in the soiled clothes from the night before. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I reflexively reached for my toothbrush. The bristles stared back at me as we studied one other and considered the futility of the act I was about to perform. Nevertheless, I pulled out the tube of toothpaste and lathered up the brush.

If you’re gonna die, might as well do it with fresh breath. I think my Mom told me that once.

There are some benefits to knowing when you’re gonna die. For most people, it gives them a sense of control over their final day. Some people like to throw parties and go out with a bang. Others will sit all day and analyze every inconsequential moment of their life in search for meaning. Everybody wants to believe their life had purpose.

I used to be like that. I even had a purpose, once. Putting bad guys away and putting food on the table for my two lovely ladies. If I ever did anything worth a damn, it was all thanks to those two angels. But their gone now, my wife’s clock ran up long before mine, and my daughter, well… doesn’t matter if I had all the time in the world left, she’d never talk to me again. I don’t blame her, though.

Tom, you have a visitor.

They program the voices in these houses to sound human, to sound familiar. I think I’d prefer them to sound like what they are, a machine. It’s creepy thinking there is another person in the house, living in the walls.

“Not today, Jane. Tell them to come back tomorrow.”

Tom, you don’t have a tomorrow.

“Now you tell me.” I said plopping back down on the couch in front of the television. I wonder if it’d be possible to calculate how many hours of my life I’ve lost to that damn box.  Probably more than I’ve lost to drinking and smoking combined, that’s for sure.

Tom, your visitor refuses to leave. She says it is very urgent. She says it is about Diana.

                Those words were like a slap to the face with a wet towel.

“Who’s out there, Jane?”

Detective Raines.

Of course, who else could it possibly be on today of all days? “Send her in, Jane.”

I listened as the pneumatic locks slid apart, releasing the door to swing freely.

“Jesus, Tom. What’ve you done with the place?” Raines said as I watched her dance through the debris in her high heels. “Ever heard of a garbage compacter?”

“Yeah, just never thought to use one, seemed like a waste of precious time.”

“Right.” She said stopping shy of the couch as she eyed it with obvious disapproval. Raines knelt to pick up a piece of newspaper off the ground. Folding it in half, she laid it on top of the coffee table before lowering her weight down gingerly. “Listen, we have to talk.”

“I’m dying, Raines. What’s too talk about?”

Her eyes bored a hole straight through me as she said, “Malcom Nettin.”

That got my attention real quick. The man who kills your wife and steals her remaining time is bound to illicit that reaction in most warm blooded creatures. “What about him?” I said not even trying to dull the edge in my voice.

“He’s out, Tom.” She said holding my stare as if I’d crumble to pieces if she ever let it go. “Broke out last night from ICDC.”

My heart was pounding so loud it made my ears hurt as I leaned forward. “How is he not already dead?” I said the words slowly so as to be sure I didn’t stutter or stumble across them. “He’s been in there for almost ten years. If I recall, prisoners are only given five.”

“We don’t know, Tom. He must have been trading something in exchange for other inmate’s time.”

“What could he possibly have to offer in exchange for years off another man’s life?”

“Tom, you of all people know what it’s like to live in a prison. Maybe not one made of brick and mortar, but a prison nonetheless. What would you do to get out early?” she said letting her eyes fall to the flashing numbers on my arm.

Damn, she always was the smart one, couldn’t have asked for a better partner in that way.

“So I appreciate you telling me all this, but what do you want me to do about it?”  I said turning my palms to the ceiling so she could read the numbers ticking away on my forearm nice and clear. “In a couple of hours, I’m gonna be back with my wife, free of all this.”

“I just thought you might want to know is all, thought you might want to help.” She said wiping her palms against her pant legs as she stood up. “Guess I was wrong.”

I watched her retrace her steps through the mess and clutter as she headed for the door. She was right of course. I did want to help. No, that’s not quite accurate. Helping them meant finding Malcom and putting him back in prison where he could continue siphoning years off gang bangers and street scrum, and the tax dollars of hard working citizens would continue to provide for the plush lifestyle afforded by the International Corrections Bureau.

Nah, I wanted to help myself, and in that way there would be only one satisfactory outcome: I would be the one to put Malcolm Netten’s death clock down to zero.

                “Hold up, just a sec, lemme grab my jacket,” I said pushing myself away from the gravitational pull of the couch.

“You know it’s almost a hundred degrees outside, right?”

“Can never be too careful.” I said throwing my arm into the sleeve of my familiar old leather jacket. “Wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”

**

“Walter, cue up the video from the Malcolm’s escape from ICDC.” Raines said.

“Does he have clearance to be here?” the little man said gesturing towards me with his chin.

I studied him with what can only be described as cool disregard, or at least that’s what I was going for, as I leaned against the far wall of the lab.

“He’s with me, Walter, that’s all the clearance you need.” Raines bent over so her face was mere inches from the lab technicians. “Understood?” Bless his heart, he did his best to stare unflinchingly back, but Raines is a woman used to getting her way.

“Fine.” Walter said resigned as he broke away from the staring contest to look up at the large computer monitor that ran the expanse of the wall in front of him. “It’ll be just a second.”

“Make it quick, we’re on a tight deadline.” Raines said glancing back at me.

“Aren’t we all?” Walter said as his fingers flew across the holographic keyboard being projected inches in front of his hands.

“Some deadlines are a tighter than others.” I said placing a slender stick of nicotine between my lips.

“Do you really think that’s such a good idea right now, Tom?” Raines said placing a hand against her hip as she shot me a look of pure hell fire. Diana used to have that look mastered. I wonder if that’s something woman practice.

“He can’t light that in here. This is a non-smoking area.” Walter said rolling his chair to the opposite side of the room as he covered his mouth with a sleeve.

“Calm down, ladies. I wasn’t gonna light it. Just an oral fixation, is all.” I said placing the cigarette back in the pack. “There, ya happy?”

“It’s not polite to risk other people’s lives for your filthy habit.” Walter said as the keyboard reappeared before him as he placed his hands back together.

“Oh dear, where were my manners?”

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Ah, crap. I knew that voice. I didn’t even need to turn to see who spoke the words.

“Captain, he may be able to help us in finding Malcolm Netten.” Raines said as she quickly, and quite smartly, put herself between me and the Captain.

“Even if I thought that was true, which I do not, there is a snowballs chance in hell that I’d let him back on this case.” Captain Marin said as the throbbing vein in his forehead traced a feint line down his temple. “I want him out of here, and he is to have no further contact with this case, am I making myself clear, Detective Raines?”

For her part, Raines stood her ground like a prize winning bull. She’s stubborn as all hell, but in the end she’s a stickler for the rules, and I could see the writing on the wall.

“Yes, Si…” she almost had the words fully out when a young man dudded up to the gills in his uniform came bursting in the room.

“Captain Marin, you have a call.”

“Take a message.” Marin said as he tried to kill me with his eyes. “I am in the middle of something.

“Sir, the caller, it’s Malcolm Netten.” Well I’ll be damned if I ever heard words that shut the Captain up faster.

Captain Marin turned to the phone beside Walter’s computer. “What line?”

“Line one, sir.”

“Walter, how long will you need to get a lock?”

“A minute, sir.” Walter said as his fingers appeared to be doing the hundred yard sprint on his keyboard.

“This is Captain Marin of the Time Crime Division. “ he said matter-of-factly.

That vein on the side of the Captains head grew a little less feint, and his face grew a little more red, as he pulled the phone from his ear. “He wants to talk to you.” He said holding the phone out to me. The scowl on the Captains face made me feel the anger he felt was equal to my confusion as I took the phone from his outstretched hand.

“This is Tom Mandel.” I said.  “I guess it’s silly to ask if you remember me?”

“Oh, Detective Mandel, how could I ever forget the man who cost me the last 9 years, 212 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes of my life? But don’t worry; I’m not one to hold a grudge. How’s the family?”

I knew he’d try to rattle me, and he definitely came out swinging for the fences. My knuckle popped as I squeezed the phone tighter between my fingers as I imagined my hands around that snakes throat. “Do us both a favor and just turn yourself in. I caught you once, I’ll do it again.”

“Ah, yes you did, but was it in time? I wonder if this time you’ll be more fortunate? I see here you only have 10 more hours with us. Pity. I’m afraid 10 hours will just not be enough for even the great Detective Mandel to bring me back to justice.”

“We’ll see.” I said eyeing the computer monitor overhead as the numbers on Walter’s trace counted down. Only ten more seconds, smart guy, and then you are all mine.

“I want a worthy opponent, Detective Mandel. These past 9 years I plotted, and I waited, for the day when I would be able to challenge you to a rematch. I quite underestimated your tenacity the first time around. Though here we are, you are a husk of your former self, if I do say so. Where’s the sport in beating a man who has already beaten himself?”

Got ya. I thought as the countdown on the tracer hit zero.

“If you’re plan is to talk me to death, you’re doin’ a great job.” I said looking down to Walter for the thumbs up. The look of confusion across his face as he shook his head no lacked the effect of filling me with confidence.

“You didn’t honestly think it was going to be that easy, did you Detective Mandel?”

“A man can hope, can’t he?”

“Indeed, I suppose hope is the only thing a man in your position really has to latch onto at a time like this. So allow me to even the playing field, just a little. Do me a favor, and look down to your Life Tracker, I want to give you a present.”

My forearm tickled like an army of ants were crawling over it as the numbers on my arm starting going up before stopping at 72 hours.

“Three days, Detective Mandel. That’s my gift to you. Three days to find me and stop me.”

“Stop you from what? What’ve you been scheming up in that cracked brain of yours?”

“Oh, I don’t want to ruin the surprise. You’ll be finding that out soon enough.” Malcolm said letting the words linger in the air as he toyed with me like a cat with a piece of string. “Now, I understand the complication of motivating an individual such as you.”

“You’re pretending like you know me pretty well, Malc. You took something from me, and I took something from you. I’m content to call it even, so stop trying to pull me into your sadistic little game.”  I said wondering if anybody actually believed what I was saying.

“I was afraid you’d say that, and that just will not do, Detective. You beat me once, and you will give me the chance for redemption. Of that, I am certain. Otherwise those days I lent you will have gone to waste. You wouldn’t want to do that, now would you?”

“Why should I care?”

“Because, Detective, those three days I gave you, I got from your wife.”

A shot of pure adrenaline to the heart would probably have hurt less than hearing I was living on the time meant for my Diana. My legs turned to rubber beneath me as I put out a hand too steady myself. Raines was quick on her heels and grabbed my arm to steady me.

“You’re a sick bastard, Malcolm. And I promise you, this time, I’m going to kill you.”

“Now that’s the fighting spirit, Detective. Let the game begin.” Malcolm said as the line turned to fuzz.

I was vaguely aware of the room spinning as I dropped the phone to the ground.

“What the hell happened to the trace, Walter?” Captain Marin said pounding his fist against the desktop causing a jar of pens to topple over, spilling its contents to the floor.

“I don’t know, sir. He had it pinging off towers all over the world. The final trace put him in the center of the Atlantic Ocean.”

“You.” Marin said turning to me. “You’re done here. I don’t care what that psychopath said, my word is final and you are not on this case. Go crawl back under that rock of yours and kindly do me the favor of dying out of my sight, and out of my mind.”

“Listen, Jerry.” I said standing over him. “I want to be here even less than you want me here, of that you can be sure. But this is personal, and I got nothing to lose. You can either let me help in whatever way I’m able too, or you can get the hell outta my way. Either way, I’m gonna find that piece of garbage and do what we should’ve done a long time ago.”

“And what exactly is that?” Marin said taking half a step back.

                “I’m gonna put a bullet between his eyes.”

Thanks for reading, stop back in on Tuesday for the next installment of the story.

Anthony

© 2012 Anthony Vicino

Infidelity

Wow, looks like I’ll actually be keeping a promise for once. As I boldly claimed yesterday, here is this week’s story.

INFIDELITY

Marcus saw him.

Just barely, out of the corner of his eye, but he saw him, earlier that day, and across town at that. The man had been sitting a few tables behind him at Café Rose while Marcus met a client over lunch. He probably would have gone completely unnoticed too if Marcus hadn’t gotten up to use the restroom.

At first, he couldn’t be sure if he the guy just had one of those faces, but now as Marcus crouched in his living room on one knee with the window blinds parted between his fingertips, he was sure. There was no doubt about it.

This was the same guy.

Why else would the man remain seated on the bench as three buses drove by if not for the fact that he was waiting for something else. Waiting, and watching.

It had been almost forty five minutes since Marcus became aware of the man sitting at his perch. It had been exactly thirty minutes since Marcus took up his kneeling position on the  living room floor as he joined the man in his waiting game.

What the man wanted remained a mystery, but as Marcus let the blinds slide shut, he resolved to find out.

Marcus took the stairs two at a time as he made his way to bedroom. Stepping into the walk-in closet, he pulled open the top drawer of his dresser, and withdrew a shoebox. It felt heavy in his hands as he delicately placed it on top of the dresser. He took the lid off and stood there for a moment studying the contents of the box beneath the bright fluorescent bulb overhead. Slowly, he reached in, as if the box were full of snakes, and pulled from it the handgun his grandfather had given him before passing away. It had been years since he had held the weapon. Twisting the gun in his hand, he watched his reflection dance on the barrel of the shiny revolver.

It’s just in case. You can never be too safe.

The distorted image of himself in the gun simply stared back.

Marcus felt ridiculous has he lifted his arm absurdly close to his face in the low light of the alleyway to make out the time on his watch. It had been over four hours since he began stalking his prey. The man on the bus bench had shown amazing patience in his job of waiting and watching. Marcus had turned out all the lights in the house, pretending to go to bed for the night, before slipping out the backyard. A couple of hopped fences and a close run-in with the neighbor’s dog led him back around to flank the stranger still seated on the bus bench.

From his vantage point in a bush, he watched the man who occasionally shifted and spoke into a small recording device, though Marcus was too far away to make out what he might be saying. At long last the man finally rose from his seat and began walking down the street, away from the house. Marcus watched as the man slipped behind the wheel of an old BMW before Marcus made his way to his own vehicle. It was an exhilarating game of cat-and-mouse to Marcus. Doing his best to recall what he had seen in all the spy movies, Marcus did what he assumed all men in this position would do…he followed from a safe distance in his old Chrysler mini-van while humming the tune to Mission Impossible.

The cross town game of follow the leader had brought Marcus here, to this small alley way formed by houses built too close to one another, as he patiently watched the house the man had entered close to an hour prior. A debate raged within as to what he should do next. He still had the element of surprise on his side, and thought it best not to directly confront the man. Especially considering that he didn’t have a clue who the man really was or what he wanted.

Marcus had just resolved in his mind to break into the man’s house the next day during work hours when the front door of the house swung open. A warm halo of light fell into the street as a woman stepped onto the porch. Something seemed familiar about the woman, but from behind and in the dark, Marcus couldn’t quite place her.

That is, until she turned around.

Even in the dark, Marcus would recognize that face.

Erica? What is she doing here?

Shock gave way to rage as he watched his wife get in her car and drive away. Marcus’ muscles were a ball of tension, ready to lash out at anything and everything, as he stalked out to the middle of the street to watch the red taillights of his wife’s car fade into the distance.

Twelve years. That’s what he had given her. The best twelve years of his life, and this is how she repaid him?

By sleeping with another man?

Not only that, but that man has the audacity to sit outside our home, watching me, laughing to himself at what a pitiful husband I must be that I can’t even satisfy my wife. I might not have been the best husband possible, but hadn’t I always been good enough? What could this scumbag possible offer that I couldn’t?

Marcus shivered as the anger coursed through his body causing the hairs on his arm to stand on end. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his grandfather’s gun and turned to the man’s house.

I need answers.

Resisting the urge to kick it in, Marcus held his shaking hand inches from the door before letting his knuckles rap gently against the wood. A look of fear, surprise, and recognition shot across the man’s face as he opened the door. Marcus invited himself into the house as he launched a foot into the man’s stomach. The man, middle-aged and slightly balding, writhed on the ground clutching his midsection as he struggled for air.

“So, you’re the one doing my wife?” Marcus said leveling the gun at the man’s head. He was surprised at how steady he was able to hold the weapon despite the adrenaline he felt rippling through his body.

“You’ve got it all wrong. She hired me…” The man let out a howl of pain as Marcus didn’t allow him to finish the sentence as another kick was leveled towards the man’s back.

Sure, kicking a man while he’s down isn’t exactly the honorable thing to do, but all’s fair in love and war.

“Please… call her, you’ll see.” The man said as he awkwardly crab walked across the room in an attempt to distance himself from the maniac with a gun.

“That’s a good idea, actually.” Marcus said pulling his phone out of the breast pocket of his jacket. “I think I’d love to hear her reaction when she finds out I found her little boy toy, if I can even call you that, I mean Jesus, just look at you. I can’t believe she’d choose a piece of crap like you to have an affair with.”

Marcus held the phone to his ear as he pressed the call button. There was a moment of silence, and then the ring tone began. A moment later he heard something vibrating between the cushions of the couch behind him. Dropping the phone from his ear, he knelt down to find the source of the disturbance. Sliding a hand between the couch cushions, his fingers grazed the edge of a small plastic box. Pinching it between his fingers he extracted the offending device and stared in disbelief at the purple sequined phone vibrating in his hand.

Marcus flashed across the tiny caller id window on the front of the phone. With a flick of the wrist, he opened the clamshell phone and ended the incoming call.

The realization that his wife had been sitting here on this very couch, likely making out, if not worse, with that pathetic excuse of a man caused his mind to overload with rage. Marcus was intent on making this man pay, making him hurt, as he turned around.

He only managed to turn halfway when a fist from the side caught him square in the jaw. White hot pain shot through him as he staggered a few steps until finding the wall for support with an outstretched hand. Everything in the room waved and contorted as his brain struggled to interpret the broken messages being delivered too it via Marcus’ damaged face.

Marcus barely raised his hands in time as the full weight of the man came crashing down on him. The force of the tackle sent the two men pin-balling against the wall. Marcus felt the wall give way as the two man buried themselves deep into the drywall before awkwardly toppling to ground. The combination of weight and inertia were on the side of the other man as they fell, and again the room dimmed as Marcus’ head bounced off the floor as he crashed to the ground on his back. As the splitting pain emanating from the base of his skull expanded, Marcus could have his head bouncing off the floor like a bowling ball sounded an awful lot like a gunshot.

The throbbing ache of his head did not subside as Marcus, lying dazed on the floor, placed a hand over his eyes. His mind abruptly pierced through the haze of pain long enough to remember the other man in the room who had put him in this world of hurt. Sitting up, the full horror of the situation dawned on him as he saw the man lying face down in a pool of blood much too large to be from anything but a mortal wound. Kicking his feet against the wooden floor, he propelled his body backwards to get as far from the body as possible before being stopped by the wall.

Using the wall for support Marcus levered himself to his feet.

What have I done? I’ve killed a man, in cold blood.

Well, not exactly cold blood. The man did attack me first. I was just defending myself, and it wasn’t even my fault.

 I never meant to shoot him. That was an accident. If the fool hadn’t thrown himself on me he would still be alive.

Fragments of drywall cracked beneath Marcus’ feet as he crossed the room, making sure to take the absolute furthest path around the body possible. Marcus had never seen a corpse before. Not in real life at least. Somehow, television just hadn’t prepared him for the river of blood now running down the man’s neck, or the dull lifeless eyes that stared back at him accusingly.

Marcus leaned a shoulder against the wall as the blunting effect of the adrenaline began to wear off giving way to a sharper pain that felt like a white hot poker being jammed into the back of his head. Feeling his stomach clench in a knot, Marcus sprinted from the house and collapsed on his knees in the front yard in time to heave up the uneaten food and bile that refused to remain part of him any longer. The spastic retching sent fresh waves of pain to override his brain as he wiped the spittle from his lip with the back of his trembling hand.

Rising to his feet, Marcus brushed the dirt and vomit from his pants. He turned to give one last look to the man’s house before slinking away in the night.

It was late, and Erica had almost made it home before realizing she didn’t have her cell phone. Cursing herself for being so forgetful, she turned the car around and returned to James’ house. The normally quiet residential street was a bustle of activity as red and blue lights pierced the night sky. A spectacle of people stood amassed outside the police barrier as officers and paramedics swarmed around the house in question.

As she put the car in park Erica wondered what could have possibly taken place at this time of night in such a quiet area of the city to necessitate what seemed to be the entire police force. The night air was crisp as she joined the group of onlookers.

“What happened?” she said to the slightly overweight lady sporting nothing but a robe and pink fuzzy slippers beside her.

“They won’t tell us anything,” she said jerking a thumb in the direction of the police. “But Ron, from a couple houses down, says he heard a gunshot not too long ago. Something must be going on in there. I bet it was a murder.” The woman seemed far too excited as the word murder slid from her tongue Erica thought. Elbowing in closer, she had the realization of what house she was looking at.

“Am I seeing this right? Is that Mr. Reynold’s house?” Erica said turning back to the old woman.

“Sure is. He was a Private Investigator, ya know. Dealing with all sorts of criminals, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if one of them killed him.”

Erica felt an odd combination of relief and guilt at the news. Relief in the sense that only an hour ago she was in that house, and if what the old lady was saying about a criminal seeking revenge were true, then she was certainly glad to have been gone before anything terrible happened.

Marcus suddenly popped into her mind.

If getting shot wouldn’t have been bad enough, she could only imagine what Marcus would have thought when he found out she was at some strange man’s house in the middle of the night all the way across town. She let out a long breath as she thanked God for ducking both bullets, the literal and metaphorical one.

The guilt that gnawed at her was from the fact that people like herself, the ones suspecting their significant others of infidelity, were responsible for putting Mr. Reynolds in situations where a crazy ex husband or wife might come seeking revenge.

Erica sat in the mill of people watching the paramedics as they pulled a body from inside the house on a stretcher covered by a white sheet when suddenly she found an Officer standing next to her.

”Ma’am, please come with me.” He said taking her by the elbow.

“Wait, what’s this about?” she said as she attempted to resist the man’s pull.

“We have a few questions we’d like to ask you,” The officer said pausing momentarily to look her in the eyes. “in private.

Erica followed the officer obediently more out of curiosity than fear. The man led her through the front door of the house before depositing her in the hallway overlooking the living room. It had been almost two hours since she was last in that room, but in that time, everything had changed. Pillow cushions lay haphazardly strewn across the room beneath a large hole in the dry wall. It took a moment before her eyes fell to the large puddle of blood gathered in the center of the room. She felt the color and life blanche from her face as she stared at the ruby red liquid spread in a pool a couple feet across.

“What happened here?” she said testing out the words carefully as if they might betray the confusion she felt overwhelming her.

“Actually, we’re hoping you could tell us something about that.”

Erica spun to see the man who had spoken.

“I’m Detective Williams, and I’m just gonna cut through the shit. We have a guy out there, one of the neighbors, who claims he saw you here with Mr. Reynolds around the time the gunshot was reported. Care to comment?”

“Yes. Uh, that’s correct. I gue.. I hired Mr. Reynolds to do a job for me. We had a meeting tonight, but I left before any gunshots or…fighting.” she said letting her eyes scan the living room once more.

“Is that so? And what kind of job did you hire Mr. Reynolds for?”

“I… I, uh… I thought my husband…I thought he might be having an affair.” Erica could feel herself blushing even as she said the words.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Was he? Was he having an affair? Did Mr. Reynolds find anything?”

“I don’t know what that has to do with this.” Erica said lifting an arm to point to the room.

“Oh, I’m just wondering if you were happy with Mr. Reynold’s findings, if there were any.”

“No, if you must know, he didn’t find anything. I believe he said my husband was an ‘exceedingly boring, and yet faithful, man.’ Happy?” she said folding her arms across her chest.

“Me? Nah. I’m never happy. How about you? Did it make you happy to hear your husband was being faithful?” Detective Williams said brushing past her as he stepped into the living room.

“Of course it made me happy. Wouldn’t you be happy to hear that?”

“Depends on what you had to gain from your husband cheating, I suppose. Or what you had to lose.”

“Detective, I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I assure you that I am very happy to hear my husband wasn’t cheating on me.”

Erica could feel Detective William’s stare eating through her as they stood locked in silence. After an unbearably long pause, William’s turned and knelt beside the pool of blood.

“Mrs. White, do you own a gun?” Detective Williams said bluntly.

The question took Erica by such great surprise that she struggled for a moment to find the word, “No.”

“Does your husband?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“What are you asking, Detective? You can’t possibly think that I had anything to do with this?”

“Oh, and why is that?” he said turning from the pool of blood to look up at her from his knees.

“B..b..because it’s ridiculous, that’s why. Why would I come back to the scene of the crime if I was the one that killed him? That makes no sense.”

“You’d be surprised how dumb most criminals are. Or maybe, how dumb they think we are. “

“Now you’re calling me names, Detective? I don’t have to take this, you know. I know my rights. Either arrest me, in which case I want to see my lawyer, or I’m out of here.” Erica said turning to the door.

“Mrs. White, before you go, maybe you could answer one more question.”

“What?” Erica said letting the word fly from her mouth like a barbed arrow as she remained turned to the door.

“Why is your phone here?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before you started calling me names. I came back here tonight because I forgot my phone after my meeting with Mr. Reynolds.”

“No. I mean, why is your phone… here.”

Erica turned to the Detective still kneeling beside the puddle of blood. She followed his outstretched finger as it pointed to the center of the pool. The light shimmered off the side of the purple sequins attached to the cover of her phone that sat amongst the blood like a tiny ship out to sea.

How did that get there? Erica replayed the question in her mind, but the answer eluded her. She was vaguely aware that this is the moment where she should be speaking, explaining this all as a misunderstanding, but her words failed her. As she opened her mouth, nothing came out but a shallow breath she wished had been full of words.

“While you’re thinking about that, Mrs. White, perhaps you’d also like to rethink your answer about that gun. Cause I’ll be the nice guy and cut out any of the guesswork. That right there,” he said pointing to the corner of the room nearest Erica. “that revolver is registered to your husband.”

Erica stared down at the gun in disbelief. The misshapen reflection of herself in the barrel of the gun only stared back at her.

“I want my lawyer.”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that.” Detective Williams said hoisting himself to his feet with a grunt. “Mrs. White, I’m afraid you leave me no choice but to place you under arrest for the murder of James Reynolds.”

“Sir, would it be alright if we came inside?”

Marcus eyed the two police officers standing on his porch. The pounding of his heart nearly drowned out the officer’s words as he struggled to act nonchalant. “Of course, yeah, come in. Forgive my manners.” He said swinging the door open. “Can I ask what this is about?”

“It’s about your wife.” The shorter of the two men said turning to face Marcus. “She’s been placed under arrest for the murder of James Reynolds.”

“What? Who is that?” He said pretending not to know the answer to his own question.

The more important question, the one the police didn’t even know they should be asking, was why his wife was being arrested for killing the man Marcus murdered less than twelve hours ago.

As he did his best to stand relaxed in the hallway with the two police officers, Marcus resolved to keep that little piece of information to himself. Marcus negated the smile threatening to break the husbandly concern plastered across his face as he listened to the officer’s recount of last night’s incident.

‘Til death do us part, honey. Just not the death either of us expected.

Thanks for reading everybody. As always, I look forward to hearing what things you liked, or hated. I’ll be posting the next story, “Time Snatch”, later this week.

Anthony

 

© 2012 Anthony Vicino

Eternal Gratitude

I just wanted to stop in for a moment and thank everybody who has stopped b and ready, liked, or commented on this here little slice of cyber-space. I’ll be back tomorrow to post a new story I wrote the other day named, “Infidelity”. By the end of this week I’ll post the piece I’m working on currently called, “Time Snatch”.

I just want to reiterate how thankful I am that you all would take time out of your day and stop by to read some of my stories. I’ve been receiving some really great comments and feedback, which as an Author, are very helpful in figuring out what aspects of my storytelling are working, and which ones aren’t. It’s all a learning process, and I can honestly say I would learn so much less if not for everybody offering their critiques and advice.

I’m gonna keep this short (so you’ll have plenty of time to go through and read some of my backlogged stories, hopefully!), but before I go I wanted to address a string of comments that have been popping up. Which is, “I want to ready more about that story!” Now, rest easy my fellow readers, for all of the stories I’m posting here are rough drafts which mean I haven’t edited them, or done any kind of read through of them myself. They are just unfiltered thoughts from my head thrown into digital format and then posted for your reading pleasure with the hopes that I wrote something atleast marginally coherent. Now, moving forward, many of the short stories that I have already posted will be serving as a spring board for future/longer projects. For instance, “Sun Burn” will be the foundation of the fourth book in the Gods and Children series of novels I am currently working on. “Firefly”, as I’ve stated before will be it’s own stand alone book targeted towards the Young Adult demographic, with the possibility of that series metamorphing into it’s own series. the story, “Antikythera” will be it’s own three book series in the same Young Adult demographic as “Firefly”. As for, “Standing Kill Orderlies”, we’ll see where that one takes us. There have been a considerable number of requests to continue that story, so for the time being I’ll leave you with a, we’ll see.

Those of you that didn’t know, I took a little break from writing, but I’m back now. Work on the God’s and Children series has resumed, and the Birth of God will be going in for edits by the end of January, so keep your ear to ground as the release date draws nearer.

Thanks again for reading, liking, and throwing your voice into the conversation!
Anthony

Standing Kill Orderlies

Look who’s back from the dead…It’s been awhile since I posted my last story, so hopefully this one will make up for it. This is story, is by far the longest one I’ve posted on here, about 6,200 words, so it might take a little time.

In addition to a long story, I’ve decided to push through my comfort zone as a writer and to tell this one in a completely new way, or atleast new for me, in reverse, beginning with the end. So as your reading, be aware that time is shifting backwards from the end to the beginning. When you get to the end, it might be worth reading it again in the other direction.

Standing Kill Orderlies

 

November 15^th, 2007

Mace’s ears twitched at the sound of footsteps splashing through the puddles behind him. His knuckles cracked as he tightened his grip around the shaft of the umbrella held overhead.

Quickening his pace slightly, he fought the urge to run.

Tilting his head, Mace scanned the reflection in the glass of a small boutique to his left as the footsteps fell in sync with his own.

One man, average height, black trench coat, one hand at side, other in pocket.

                Mace’s mind whirled through the possibilities.

Could they have found me?

The pounding of his heart sent deafening waves of blood racing to his brain. Letting out a slow breath, Mace turned into a darkened alley away from the lifeless Parisian street.

Spinning quickly, Mace pulled the pistol out from its holster at his side. Leaning against the cold wet brick of the building towering overhead, he quieted his breathing as he waited for the man to follow.

Seconds stretched indefinitely as the man’s footsteps approached the mouth of the alley.

Mace cocked the hammer of the pistol as the stranger stepped into the street light. The adrenaline coursing through his veins caused his muscles to tense as the man continued walking past the alley without even so much as second look.

Letting out a rush of air, Mace allowed his body to relax. A smile cracked his cool façade as he replayed the scenario and his over-reaction in his mind.

Cold water splashed over his foot as he stepped towards the well-lit street.

Click

Mace went numb as he heard the unmistakable sound.

He saw the gun first as he spun around.

9mm with a suppressor.

The shadowy face of the man holding the weapon popped into view as a flash of light from the end of the pistol filled the alley.

Not you!

Raindrops froze on their descent to Earth as the searing metal tore through Mace’s body.  The umbrella clattered to the ground as he fell to his knee.

Crimson mixed with the rain as Mace clutched the hole in his chest. Through labored breathing, he looked to the assassin as the man took another step closer. Light from the street lamps accentuated the man’s features as he raised the pistol to the side of Mace’s head.

“Robert, no…”

 One Year Earlier

August 3^rd, 2006

Caffey tasted the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth as he raised his throbbing head. The brightly lit room caused a new rush of pain as his eyes struggled to adjust. Blinking hard, his eyes came into focus on his daughter, Lisa, first. Bound and gagged, her wide brown eyes called out to him for help. Caffey’s mind immediately snapped to attention as he struggled against the ropes holding him fast to the chair. Blood seeped down his fingers as he writhed against his bonds. The door behind him slowly creaked open as Caffey watched a fresh stream of tears pour down Lisa’s young face.

A black gloved hand reached from behind him and tore away the strip of duct tape holding his mouth shut.

“What the hell is this? Who are you?!” Caffey said blinking away the tears from the stinging pain. “Do you have any idea who I…”

A gloved fist came raining down on the back of Caffey’s head sending his mind swimming as the room faded before him.

“If it’s alright with you…” said the man behind Caffey. “I’ll ask the questions.”

The scraping of wood against wood filled the room as the man pulled a chair around to sit in front of Caffey. He was young, late 20’s at most, with green eyes that popped in contrast to the black suit he wore. Given the strange circumstances, Caffey had to do a double take. “Robert, what are you doing?”

“I only have one question.” Robert’s voice was crisp, and deliberate. “Where is the device?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Caffey said, spitting a gob of blood onto the hardwood floor.

“No? You don’t remember?” Robert said massaging the palm of his hand with the other. “You killed your partner, Agent Caffey, and took from him, something that belonged to us. Now, let’s not make this anymore unpleasant than it needs to be.”

“It wasn’t yours.”

“It wasn’t yours either, but that didn’t stop you from killing your partner to have it, now did it?”

“He was a traitor.” Caffey said.

“He was my father.”

Fresh blood oozed from the wound above Caffey’s eyes as he squinted them shut, trying to block out the memory. The blood stung as it dripped into his eye. Robert pulled a handkerchief from his front breast pocket, and leaning forward, gently dabbed the stream of blood blinding Caffey.

“It’s not what you think.” Caffey said.

“So it would seem.” Robert said leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s try this again. Where is the device?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?”

Caffey stared blankly at Robert.

“Very well. Bring her in.” Robert said into his radio.

Lisa’s muffled cries filled the room as the door slammed open and a large man dragged a bound woman in. She fell with a heavy thud on the floor before Caffey as the man exited the room.

“Jess! Look at me, Jess! It’s gonna be alright!” Caffey said the words as much for his sake as for hers. “Please, Robert. Don’thurt her. You don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” Robert said pulling a pistol from is holster beneath his suit jacket. “So tell me, where is the devie?”

“I don’t know!” Caffey said.

“I’m going to kill your wife, Agent Caffey. I’m going to make you and your daughter watch.” Robert said rising from his chair. “Unless you tell me where the device is, right now.”

Tears mixed with blood as they flowed down Caffey’s cheek.

“N…no…” Caffey said shaking his head as he stared into his wife’s eyes.

The gun went off.

Jess’ head jerked violently to the side as a cascade of her blood covered Caffey. Choking on his own scream, Caffey threw his weight forward towards his wife’s body. He crashed to the ground face first as he remained a prisoner to the chair he was so securely fastened.

“NOOO!” He screamed as his wife’s blood spread in a pool around him.

The sounds of the world were drowned by his scream. Caffey’s mind tossed and turned like a leaf on a river being controlled by an entity much larger than itself.

“I don’t have all night, Agent Caffey. Tell me where the device is, or your daughter is next.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear I will kill you.” Caffey said with his conviction-less voice.

“Not before you tell me where the device is.”

Caffey looked up at his daughter as her body convulsed as she cried into her mouth gag. Silence filled the room save the muffled lament of Lisa.

“Mace. His name is Mace Scott.” Caffey said staring up into Roberts eyes. “Mace has it.”

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” Robert said as he pulled out a knife and knelt down over Caffey.

“Please, don’t hurt my daughter. She’s innocent.”

“It’s not her I plan to hurt.”

Seventeen Days Earlier

July 17^th, 2006

“What a shit hole. Are you sure we have the right place?”

“Positive. It’s not much to look at, but what’d you expect?”

“I don’t know. Not this.” Robert said weaving between towers of old pizza boxes and stacks of newspapers. “What’s his ETA?  I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.”

“Alpha team says he is in the building. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Good.” Robert said twisting cracking his knuckle between gloved fingers.

Robert snapped to attention at the sound of keys jangling in the hall. Locking eyes with his compatriot, they took up position on opposing sides of the door. The soft scraping of the key as it twisted into place in the lock reminded Robert of the countless mice likely crawling around this hoarder’s wet dream of an apartment.

The door slid open slowly. The light from the hallway cast the man’s shadow across the room as he stepped inside. Robert snatched the man’s hand as he reached for the light switch. With a twist off the wrist, Robert yanked the man’s arm behind his back and sent him sprawling forward knocking over a pile of old records in the process. Robert’s partner flicked the light switch and shut the door behind them as Robert dropped his knee into the man’s solar plexus and leaned in close.

“You must be Max?”

The man’s dark brown hair fell over his eyes as he scanned the room for meaning.

“Wh…wha..who are you?”

“You can call us the reckoning”

“Rec..kk..oning for what?” Max said.

“You killed a man, Max.” Robert said rising to his feet. “You can’t just do that and hope to get away with it.”

“I didn’t kill anybody.” Fear flashed across Max’s face as he sprung to his feet. “You must have the wrong person.”

“Why do they always deny, deny, deny?” Robert said turning to his partner.

“Max. You killed a man by the name of Mr. Barnett a little over two years ago. Let’s cut the playing dumb part and get down to why we’re here.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Remember Mrs. Smith? Little old lady ratted you out.”

“That crazy old bat? You can’t possibly believe her; she had brain surgery for god sake.” Max said backing his way through the maze of clutter.

“So you deny killing Mr. Barnett?”

“Of course.” Max said. “I would never hurt anyone.”

Robert could feel his impatience mounting as he glanced back at his partner with a raised brow.

“Alright, our mistake.” Robert said pulling his pistol from its holster.

“Wait, wait, wait, What’re you doing?  I just told you I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you, and that makes me want to hurt you.” Robert pulled a suppressor from his suit pocket. The sound of metal scraping metal as he twisted it into place sent a visible streak of fear coursing through Max.

“Ok, ok. I did it, but it wasn’t my idea. I was just following orders.”

“Orders? I didn’t realize you guys filled those types of orders.” Robert said watching Max fidget in place as he stared at the pistol.

“He was going to die anyways. I was just helping him. Putting him out of his misery.”

“And I suppose you got paid for your little act of mercy?”

“Well, yeah.”

“How much? How much was that life worth to you?”

“$250,000.” Max said hanging his head in shame.

“I see you put it to good use.” Robert said studying the small one bedroom apartment packed to the brim with garbage and knick-knacks.

“I mean, I uh…”

“I don’t care about that.” Robert said. “All I want to know is who ordered the kill?”

“Um… I think it was Coffee… Mr. Coffee. Or something like that.”

Robert stared blankly at Max, fighting to hide the rage building inside. “Do you mean, Caffey?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Mr. Caffey.” Max said sitting down on a dark brown recliner. From the table beside him, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes. “Gotta light?” he said meekly.

Robert withdrew a lighter from his pant pocket. “Smoking will kill you, ya know?” he said as he flicked the lighter to life. Watching the red ember dance from the end of the man’s cigarette, Robert continued processing Max’s revelation.

Caffey’s been right under our nose all this time.

“How long have you worked for the hospital?” Robert said pushing thoughts of Caffey from his mind for the time being.

“Ten years, give or take.”

“Ten years, huh? And in your professional opinion, what makes you think that man was terminal?”

Max tapped the end of his cigarette into a pizza box on his side. “That man was in bad shape. His face was all bandaged. Some sort of horrible fire accident. That man was in a lot of pain. I helped him, I swear it.”

Robert sifted Max’s words through his head as he absent mindedly tapped a finger against the side of his gun.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Max shifted in his seat, spinning the cigarette nervously between his fingers, as the silence in the room continued well past what could formally be considered awkward.

Tap. Tap.

                “So, who was he anyways?” Max said taking a shallow puff from what was left of the stub of a cigarette before grinding it out in the ceramic ashtray next to him.

A wrinkle of irritation creased Robert’s brow as the break in the silence snapped him from the thoughts that had so fully consumed his mind.

“Geoffrey Barnett.” Robert said as he turned and walked to the door.

“What’d he do? Why would somebody want him dead?”

“For all the same cliché reasons that anybody would ever want to kill anybody else; money, power, jealousy…” Robert stopped beside his partner at the door. Bending over he picked up a red metal canister from beside the door. Fumes of gasoline wafted from the end of the spigot as he handed it to the man beside him. “Or maybe revenge.”

“What’s that for?” Max’s voice trembled as he jumped to his feet.

“Make it look like an accident.” Robert said ignoring the man’s question as he pulled the apartment door open and stepped onto the spongy brown carpet of the hallway. The revelation that it had been Geoffrey Billings own partner, Agent Caffey that had ordered the hit was still circulating through Robert’s mind as he made his way out of the apartment complex that he was barely conscious of the fire alarm that had just sounded behind him. In the still, muggy summer evening air he took a moment to look back at the building. Lazily, he let his eyes drift upward, rising on the crescendo of the fire alarm to the fourth floor apartment where the blaze had already penetrated the glass of the window to send tendrils of flame dancing toward the blackened night sky.

“Smoking will kill ya.” He said to nobody in particular as he walked away.

Two Days Earlier

July 15^th, 2006

 

“Come in, come in. Please, don’t mind the mess. I’ve been so busy,  I haven’t had the opportunity to tidy up.”

Robert stepped into the old woman’s pristine house and doubted it was even possible to make the room any cleaner. Tidy and neurotically organized in the kind of way only possible to an individual with OCD he presumed.

“Please, Agent… um… I’m sorry, what was it again?”

“Barnett, Ma’am. Agent Barnett.” Robert said taking a seat on the only surface in the room not armed with a doyly.

“Ah, yes.  Agent Barnett,  I’m so sorry. My memory isn’t quite what it used to be. Not since the surgery, you know.”

Robert watched the woman as she bustled around the room. The heavy, sweet aroma of something baking wafted into the room from the kitchen bringing back memories of his Grandmother. It had been a couple years since he had seen her, not since the funeral. The memory filled him with a momentary longing before he remembered his purpose.

“Mrs. Smith, if it’s alright, I’d like to ask you a few questions about a police report you filed last year.”
“Of course.” She said placing a tray of tea on the coffee table as she plopped down into the couch opposite Robert. The overly softened cushions rose up around her as her weight sunk lower making her appear even smaller than before. “My daughter, Amanda, she’s the one that was with me at the hospital during my surgery, you know, said the case had been closed. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Robert said shifting forward to the edge of his seat to take the small saucer and cup from the woman’s outstretched hand. “And yes, well actually, the case is closed. This is something that I’m doing, sort of on the side, if you understand.”

“So you do believe me!” Mrs. Smith jumped to her feet surprisingly quick for somebody of her age taking Robert slightly off guard as he recoiled in his seat. “Nobody else would believe me, not even my daughter. They all said I was having a terrible dream induced by the surgery and drugs. I knew that couldn’t be the case, though. I just knew it.”

Robert sat and listened as she went into a rapid fire account of the night in question. Stopping occasionally to clap her hands together excitedly as she accentuated certain points in the story only to resume her pacing about the room, which Robert likened to a gerbil trapped in a clear roller ball. Finally, having exhausted herself telling the story down to the finest level of detail, Mrs. Smith let gravity pull her back down to the heavy cushions of the couch which Robert was sure would swallow her whole this time.

Panting heavily, Mrs. Smith leaned forward to grab the kettle of tea from the coffee table.

“No, please. Allow me.” Robert said snatching up the tea pot in his left hand. With his right, he swooped up the elderly woman’s porcelain cup stained red around the corner from her bright red lipstick.

“You’re so sweet. I notice you don’t have a ring, you aren’t married by chance Agent Barnett?”

The question caused Robert to pause with the tea kettle in hand with a look upon his face that must have betrayed his confusion.

“I mean to say, my daughter is also single. Maybe once you solve this case, I could put you two in touch?”

Robert used Mrs. Smith’s interruption to slip the contents of the vile he had been palming since arriving into Mrs. Smith’s tea.

”That’s very sweet of you, but I’m afraid I’m married to my work at the moment.”  He said handing her the cup of tea.

“Of course, of course, and I’m very thankful for that.” She said raising the cup to her lips. “You’re the only one too take my claim seriously at all.”

Robert felt a twinge of regret as he watched Mrs. Smith eagerly finish off her poisoned cup of tea.

One Day Earlier

July 14^th, 2006

“Director, I was running a search on one of our deceased agents and came across a possible link to one of the black flagged items.”

“Oh? Which item in particular?” Director Beckton said pressing the full of his weight on his forearms as he leaned across his desk. Taking the file from the Agent standing at attention from across his desk, he flipped open the gloss black folder. Skimming the words on the first page, the Director felt a sudden jolt of excitement as it streaked its way down his spine. “Is this correct? How sure are we of these findings?”

“I can’t say with any certainty at this point. I brought this directly to you.”

Director Beckton carefully placed the folder on the desk before him.

What a stroke of luck.

Who would’ve guessed a police report filed by a seventy year old grandmother in some backwater town in Virginia would bring him one step closer to the ultimate weapon. With his fingers he outlined the shape of the small black box pictured on page two of the report. He could feel the hunger growing in his stomach. At long last, he might finally have a way of obtaining the device, the thing that would guarantee his absolute control, absolute power. It was so close, he could taste it.

“You’re the only one I can trust on this. Assemble your team, and follow up on this immediately. I want you on a plane tonight.” Beckton said rubbing his sweat moistened hands together. “It goes without saying, but let me say it anyway. Failure is not an option. You will come back with the device. Am I understood, Robert?”

“Yes, sir.”

Two Years Earlier

January 22^nd, 2004

“I still can’t believe it.” Mace said carefully comparing his reflection in the mirror to the passport he held cradled like a precious jewel between his fingers. “This really is top notch work.”

“Sure is. Now give me that,” Caffey said plucking the passport out of Mace’s outstretched hand. “We can’t afford to leave anything they might be able to use to find you.”

Mace stood in the doorway of the bathroom with his hands pressing in opposite directions against the doorframe, as if trying to push them apart. The heat from the fireplace burning across the room sent waves of warmth coursing through him as he watched Caffey throw the garbage bag of his personal belongings into the blaze. The flames lapped higher as they consumed all trace of his existence. For a moment, Mace thought he might feel himself fading into non-existence, like a spirit fleeing the earthly world as the items within the garbage bag began to wither and turn to ash.

“Here’s everything you’ll need from this point on.” Caffey said as he threw a black duffel bag across the room. Mace snatched the bag out of the air. Lowering his weight on the edge of the bed, he unzipped the bag and rifled through its innards.

“I have to pick up Lisa from hockey practice. If you need anything, you know how to get in touch with me.” Caffey said as he checked his phone beside the hotel door.

“Thanks.” Mace said cocking his head to the side to look at the man. “With any luck, I won’t be seeing you anytime soon.”

Mace could feel Caffey’s eyes taking him in. There was no glint of familiarity, not that Mace could blame him. They had done their job too well. That was the point after-all.

“You take care of yourself Mace…” Caffey said pulling the door open. “and that device.”

When Caffey had left, Mace pulled an unassuming little black box from within the duffel bag.

Such a small thing to die for. He thought as he let his eyes drift back towards the fire.

 

Two Days Earlier

January 20^th, 2004

“I have to admit, I’m a little scared, Amanda.”

“Mom, everything is going to be okay. I promise.” Amanda tightened her grip on her mother’s wrinkled hand. “The doctors are going to take good care of you, their some of the best in the country.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t like the idea of somebody poking and prodding in my head.” The old lady said rubbing her daughters hand compulsively.

“Nobody is going to poke anything, Mrs. Smith.”

Amanda and her mother turned their head in unison to see the young doctor silhouetted in the door frame. The light shining from the hallway made his white lab coat shine brighter than normal making him appear to Amanda as some sort of clipboard holding angel.

It’s probably best to keep that thought to myself.

“Oh, I know, Dr. Arnold. I’m just more than a little nervous is all.”

“Well, I assure you everything is going to be quite alright.” He said quickly crossing the room. “Now, if you’re ready, we’re going to be taking you in in a few minutes. I just wanted to stop by and see if there were any last minute questions or concerns you might have?”

“That’s so sweet of you. Amanda, isn’t that sweet?”

“Very sweet, Mother.”

Amanda pretended to be looking at something on the other side of the room. Anything to avoid what she knew would be her mother’s awkward attempts at creating a love connection with this poor unsuspecting Doctor.

“Now that you mention it,” Mrs. Smith said. “It occurs to me that I know next to nothing about you, Dr. Arnold. Are you married? Do you have children? I notice you aren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

“Mother…” Amanda said letting the words slide out in a low growl.

“No, it’s okay. It’s perfectly natural to want to know more about the person who will be doing your surgery, and to answer your question, yes I’m married, no children though.”

The wave of relief that swept over Amanda felt like a cooling rain as she thanked the god who must be watching over her in her time of awkward social need.

“How about any questions about the surgery itself? He said without missing a beat.

“I can’t think of any at the moment, but if anything pops up I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Great, well I need to go prep for the procedure.” he said placing a hand on Mrs. Smith’s shoulder. “The nurse will be right in to take you down to the OR.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Remember, I’m the one taking all the risk, so just relax and stand watch at the door. I’ll come get you once I know he’s dead.”

Mrs. Smith felt like she was swimming as the voices from the hall coaxed her from her drug induced sleep. Her body was slow to respond to her commands as she propped herself up on an elbow. The room was dark, save the dull pulsing lights of the machines tethered to her via tubes and wires.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

                The machine monitoring her heart rate quickened its report as she lay back onto her pillow, the “Call Nurse” button gripped for life between her fingers, as the door to the room swung open. A shadow, silhouetted by the hallway lights, slid into the room sending a tremble of fear through Mrs. Smith’s body as it quietly shut the door throwing them both into darkness.

The darkness consumed the reference of time as Mrs. Smith lay paralyzed by the unknown.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

                Her ears strained over the sound of another heart rate monitor and light snoring calling out from across the room in a weird rhythmic discord as the two sounds danced around one another. The sound of softly shuffling feet approaching the patient’s bed opposite her own sent a wave of panic jolting through her body. Willing her eyes to adapt quicker to the darkness, Mrs. Smith held her breath as she watched a shadowy figure lean over the sleeping man.

                Wrestling with her memory, Mrs. Smith struggled to remember if the other patient had been present earlier in the night when she first awoke after the surgery. She was mostly certain that her daughter had been there, but despite her trying, she couldn’t remember what they talked about.

Everything was a jumble. Everything was wrong.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

Mrs. Smith finger jerked, pressing the button between her fingers in response to the heart rate monitors abrupt change.

Light from the hall flooded the room as the door suddenly swung open.

Startled, the figure leaning over the man leapt back.

“She’s awake.” The voice from the hall said in a low whisper.

“I’ll take care of it.” said the specter across the room.

“What’re you doing?” Somebody help, please.” Mrs. Smith said while frantically pressing the button as the shadow quickly descended upon her.

“Mrs. Smith, everything is alright. You’re just having a bad dream.” The man’s voice betrayed the tension he himself felt, only adding to the hysteria sweeping over Mrs. Smith.

She struggled against the strong hand that pressed against her shoulder, causing her to sink deeper into the mattress.

This is it. After all these years, this is how I die! She thought as she felt the steely prick of a needle piercing her flesh.

“No, please don’t do this.” She begged.

“Shh… just go to sleep, Mrs. Smith.”

Mrs. Smith recognized the voice as the effects of the drug took effect.

                “Why? Why ar… doooin…to me,” her tongue grew heavy in her mouth as she fought to expel the words. Relief swept through her body as she allowed gravity to pull her head back down to the pillow uncontested. “Max… Why?” She said before nodding off.

Amanda Smith brushed aside the feeling of annoyance that was creeping upon her as she forced herself to listen, attentively, to her mother’s story.

“You  believe me, don’t you?” Mrs. Smith said, finally allowing a long enough pause in her ramblings to allow a response.

“Mom, you’ve been through a lot. You had brain surgery less than twenty-four hours ago. The amount of drugs you’re hopped up on is staggering to say the least. I’m sure this was all just a bad dream. You’ve always disliked hospitals, but this is taking things a bit too far.” Amanda said rubbing her mother’s hand. She knew how important it was to her mom to feel like she was being listened too, being valued, but this was ridiculous. Murder? In the hospital? Absolutely ridiculous.

Mrs. Smith’s face imploded to form a giant wrinkle as she frowned her disapproval.

“Just ask them. Ask them if there was another man in this room last night.”

Amanda scanned the room. It was exactly as full as it had been the day before when she had visited her mother after the surgery. Reiterating the fact that she had been, and still was, the lone occupant of the room proved a useless tactic against her mother, however.

“Just ask, you’ll see. They must have brought him in after you left and then of course they got rid of the body after they killed him.”

Throwing her hands up in defeat, Amanda rose to her feet. “Alright, I’ll ask. I’ll be right back.”

The nurses’ station was vacant as Amanda approached. Leaning against the counter, she attempted to peak a look through the open office door on the other side of the desk.

“Hello?” she said in response to the sound of rustling paper from within the office.

A man sitting on a leather chair rolled into the doorway. “Oh, hey there.” He said springing to his feet. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, do you know where I can find one of the nurses? I just have a question about my mother’s room.”

The man approached the counter as he scanned the hallway in both directions. “Agatha is probably on her rounds. It’ll just be a few minutes ‘til she returns. I’m one of the orderlies, though, maybe I can help?”

“That’d be great. My mom just had brain surgery, and I think they removed the part responsible for logic and reasoning, but she swears she woke in the middle of the night and there was another man in her room. He wasn’t there when I visited last night, but she is convinced he must have been moved in after I left.”

“Well, it’s not unusual for us to put more than one patient in the same room. This is a small hospital, you know?”

“Of course, of course, but could you do me a favor and just check to see if maybe there was another patient in there last night? It was room 203.”

“Sure, if it’ll make her feel better.” the man said bending over the computer terminal before him. “Just one sec… room 203, you said?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Your mother must be Mrs. Smith? She’s quite the talker, so many stories. Such a lovely lady.”

“Thanks, she’s definitely one of a kind.” Amanda fiddled with the pen connected by a small metal bead chain to the counter.

“So, it says here she’s been the only one in that room since her surgery.” He said looking up from the screen. “Is it alright if I ask why she wanted to know?”

Amanda cracked a smile. “She believes a murder most foul took place in there last night.”

The man’s smile faded ever so slightly. “Well then, that would be cause for concern, huh? The orderly from on duty last night made a note that your mother was thrashing in her sleep and he gave her some sedatives to calm her. Must have been a very realistic nightmare she was having.”

“She has quite the imagination, so that’s not as surprising as you might think.” Amanda said pushing herself away from the counter. “Thanks for all your help, uh… I’m sorry; I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Max.” the man said extending his hand. “Glad I could help.”

 

One Day Prior

January 14^th, 2004

The phone vibrated in the passenger seat next to him. Picking it up, he looked at the caller ID.

Director Beckton.

Geoffrey let out a breath and allowed the phone to ring twice more before answering.

“Yes, sir?” he said wrapping a gloved hand around the steering wheel.

“Agent Barnett, do you have the device?”

“Yes, sir. I just acquired it from our friend.”

“Excellent. Return to Operations with it immediately.”

“I’ll be on the earliest flight out, sir.”

“Good.”

Geoffrey ended the call and tossed his phone back on the passenger’s seat. Releasing the tension in his neck, he allowed his head to drop back onto the headrest as he let out a long breath, the muffled sound of traffic passing by calmed him as he thought through his mission.

                Knock knock.

The sudden interruption to his meditation caused Geoffrey to reach for the pistol at his side as he turned towards the passenger side window. Cold air blasted into the car as the door pulled open.

“Scared the shit out of me, Caffey.” He said grabbing his phone from the seat so his partner could sit.

“Serves you right for napping on the job.” Caffey said as the car shifted to the side in response to the man’s weight plopping down in the seat.

“Just dreaming of when this will all be over.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we’re only just getting started.”

“I know.” Geoffrey said sliding the key into the ignition, and with a twist of the wrist, the car purred to life.

“You sure you still want to go through with this? It’s not too late you know?” Caffey said as he held his fingers against the hot air blasting from the vents.

                “We both know it’s far too late to back out now. It’s not about what I want anymore.” Geoffrey said merging into traffic. “Whatever happens to me, the Director cannot get his hands on that device.”

“Then God help us.”

“God doesn’t have any place in his heart for men like us, Caffey. Not anymore.”

Geoffrey blinked back tears as he stared up into the white lights overhead.

This is it. This is where I die.

It was a morbid thought, and self-hating one, of course, but it brought an odd type of solace as he lay there on the surgical table watching Caffey speak with the doctor. He watched as his partner handed the doctor an envelope before the two men turned and crossed the room to where Geoffrey.

“Mr. Scott,” the doctor said tucking the envelope away into a back pocket.  “Everything seems to be in order. We’ll begin as soon as you’re ready.”

Geoffrey’s eyes darted between the doctor and Caffey. He was poised on the edge of a precipice and found himself balking at the idea of jumping.

Maybe it wasn’t too late? If he got up now, he could be at the airport within the hour, on a plane within three, back at headquarters within eight. There would be no evidence of any of this. All he had to do was the one thing he couldn’t.

Give the device to the Director.

Untold lives were at risk if he did that.

Lives that would be on his head for giving that monster such unbridled power.

“Mace….can you hear me?”

The words pulled him from his inner turmoil.

He knew it was going to take a while to get used to his new name. No doubt even longer to get used to his new face.

“Yeah,” he finally managed to say. “I just need a minute with my associate.”

“Of course, take as long as you need.” The doctor said as he retreated to check up on the medical equipment across the room.

“You alright?” Caffey said bending over so that Geoffrey could feel the man’s breath against his face.

“Yeah, just a bit nervous.”

“I’d be nervous too, what with a name like Mace Scott. Why did you choose such a ridiculous name, anyways?” Caffey said raising his eyebrows to feign profound curiosity.

“Shut up,” Geoff said propping himself up on an elbow. “Your best friend is about to die here.”

“Best friend? That might be a bit of a stretch.”Caffey said trying to break the tension. “And don’t be so overly dramatic, you’re just getting a new face.”

“Hopefully it’ll be an improvement on this one.”

“Anything would be.”

Geoffrey smiled at his long-time friend realizing it might be his last.

“Now relax,” Caffey said. “Everything is in place for you to fall off the map. The doctor and the orderly have already been paid. I contacted the Agency and told them you collapsed on the way to the airport and you were being taken to the nearest hospital.  All you have to do is go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll be a whole new man.”

“Thanks, Caffey.” Geoff said lowering onto his back. “Promise me one more thing.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Look after my son. Promise me you’ll take care of Robert.”

Thanks for reading. As always, leave a comment. Tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, at least tell me something.

Anthony

 

© 2012 Anthony Vicino

Sun Burn

I should pretty much stop promising stories on set days, it never seems to work out. Hopefully you’ll find it in your heart of hearts to forgive me, specially because this is a pretty cool update.

First, today I reached 52,000 words on Birth of God. Which for those of you who don’t know is about 200 pages or so.  The book is coming along nicely, though it’s also a bit sad having to say goodbye to characters that will not be featured in the rest of the series. Oh well, that’s how it goes. I can’t wait to resume work on the second book in the series, Life of God.

Second, today I wrote a whopping 6,500 words. That was aided by the fact that I had to stay home sick from work today, but regardless, that is a butt load of writing. For comparison, I set a word goal of writing 1,000 words every week day, and 2,000 every weekend. Needless to say, I blew that target out of the water today. Of that, only 2,500 went towards Birth of God. The other 4,000 went towards another little short story for your entertainment needs.

So, without further adieu, here ya go. Make sure to leave a comment, say you like it, even if you didn’t, and just in general spread the word.

Sun Burn

 

Greenbelt, MD

January 3^rd, 2023

2:34 am Eastern Time

 

Beep.

 

A red light flashing incessantly on the dashboard pulled Matthew from his Sudoku. His blue eyes were dull from fatigue as they glanced up from behind his thickly brimmed glasses. Setting the newspaper aside, he leaned forward, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. Ignoring the tuft of greasy black hair that had fallen across his forehead he pressed the touch-screen of the monitor in question. Matthew felt his pulse skyrocket as a stream of seemingly random numbers and letters filed across the screen.

“Oh my god.” The words leapt from his mouth as he reached across the desk for the phone, knocking the half full cup of lukewarm coffee into his lap in the process. “Damnit!” he yelled as he jumped to his feet.

Matthew pawed at the moisture spreading in the crotch of his pants as he picked up the red receiver of the phone. Dancing nervously from foot to foot, he kept his eyes pinned on the monitor as he waited for the operator on the other side.

With a click a voice came from the other end.

“Director Brooke.”   The voice was heavy and gruff as if the owner had been torn from a cycle of deep REM sleep. Under different circumstances, Matthew might have wondered what those dreams had entailed.

“Sir, this is Dr. Rice over at Goddard. Sorry to have wake you, but we have a situation.”

Those words must have snapped the Director to attention as he suddenly sounded very awake. “What kind of situation?”

Matthew cleared his throat. “A Carrington flair, sir.” He said hoping his voice didn’t betray the panic he felt rising in his throat.

Silence followed by heavy breathing came from the other end of the line.  Matthew rubbed a sweaty palm against his pant leg as he switched the receiver to his other ear. “Sir?”

“How big?” the Director’s voice sounded small and frail.

“I can’t say for certainty, sir. There hasn’t been a flair of this type in over a hundred years.”

“Do we know where it’s likely to hit?”

“I have no way of knowing that at this time, sir.” Matthew felt the words catch in his throat. “It could hit…everywhere.”

“I’ll inform the President. Track down Dr. Davis, tell her to get to the White House fill her in on the details, she’ll know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Matthew grabbed his Iphone from the back pocket of his denim jeans. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found Dr. Margaret Davis.

“One more thing.” The Director’s voice was steady and sure. “How long do we have?”

“Minutes… Maybe less.”

“God help us.”

Richland, WA

January 2nd, 2023

11:45 PM Pacific Time

 

Luke Stevens sat at his desk staring out the window at the dimly lit street. The words on the page were blurring together as one, making comprehension impossible. Headlights of an approaching vehicle blinded him as the car turned in front of the office building. Luke turned away from the window as the red taillights vanished in the distance. Twisting carefully in his chair so as not to disturb the neatly stacked pile of papers, he grabbed the half empty tumbler filled with the sweet brown liquor. Ice cubes clinked together as he held the glass up to the soft fluorescent lamp light spilling onto his desk. The whiskey danced in the light as he poured the sweet nectar down his throat.

The cellphone, trapped beneath a pile of paper, started vibrating like a snake rattling its tail in preparation for attack. A stream of whiskey escaped the sides of his mouth as Luke shot forward in his chair, startled by the sound. Running the back of his hand across his stubbled cheek, he fished the phone out from beneath the carnage that was his desk.

Melanie Stevens flashed across the phone’s screen. With a beep, he accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hey babe.” he said as he placed the glass back in its familiar condensation ring on the wooden desk.

“When ya coming home, Luke? It’s late, and Val’s been up all night.” Melanie sounded at the end of her rope as Luke glanced down at his wrist. “You aren’t the only one with a career, ya know? I need to get some sleep otherwise I’m going to be useless tomorrow.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said rising from his chair.” I’m just finishing up. I’ll be home in ten.”

“Okay…” Luke could feel the longing in her voice. “I love you.”

“You too, babe.” Luke hung up the phone as he took his suit jacket from its hangar on the wall. He stopped to take one final look at his office as he opened the door. Just a couple months earlier he was about to make partner at the largest law firm in L.A.

Look at him now. This was his kingdom. This was his throne, a small office barely large enough to accommodate his stacks of books and piles of awards and commendations. Everything lay strewn about the office haphazardly; he didn’t even see the point in unpacking. The things you do for love.

The night air was crisp as he stepped out of the building. Pulling his suit jacket tight around him he hurried to his car parked at the end of the street. Pressing the unlock button on the sensor attached to his keys, the mini-van’s red and white taillights flashed in the darkness. The street was void of any activity, as it always was at this time of night in little old Richland, WA.

Luke slid into the front seat of his 2010 Dodge Caravan. Another sacrifice he had to make when they left L.A. That’s not to say that the mini-van wasn’t capable of laying down some rubber if he wanted to show the soccer man’s of Richland who was boss. But then again, it didn’t exactly leave a sense of satisfaction like his BMW M3 had.

As Luke pulled out into the street a flash lit up the night sky overhead. He craned his neck to look up through the windshield as the mini-van’s engine faltered. With a sputter and a kick the vehicle’s engine stopped turning. Rolling down the street with no power, Luke pressed on the brakes. The brakes squeaked in protest as the vehicle came to a stop. Without power steering, Luke had to rely on pure muscle and elbow grease to steer the stalling vehicle towards the side of the road.

Popping the van into park, Luke hopped out of the front seat. A tingle ran down his spine and he wondered just how much he had to drink as he stared up at the night sky illuminated by bright light as if it was mid-day. Scanning the horizon, Luke could not detect the source of the abnormal light.

Something wasn’t right. In Los Angeles, sure… with all the lights, and businesses, and cars, night could definitely look like day. In the middle of nowhere? No… something was definitely wrong. Luke felt the tiny legs of fear crawling down his back, causing his innards to clench in disapproval.

Purple, greens, and orange lights danced across the sky and Luke wondered if he was witnessing the Aurora Borealis. Was such a thing even possible here? He hadn’t a clue. Being a city boy didn’t exactly prepare you for this.

Pulling his eyes back towards the ground, he was suddenly aware that all the street lights had been extinguished. Hopping back into his van, he turned the key in the ignition. The car fought to turn, but to no avail. With sad sputters, it failed.

“Damnit!” he said slamming his fist into the steering wheel. “I thought we bought this thing cause it’s reliable!”

Grabbing his briefcase from the passenger seat, he slammed the van door behind him as he began the mile long walk home. The car didn’t respond as he pressed the lock button on his keychain. Still no response as he pressed the button again, this time harder, digging his fingernail deep inside the sensors button.

“What the hell is going on?” he said refusing to go back and lock the vehicle by hand. If he was home that car would be gone in five minutes. Here, it would probably be safe indefinitely.

Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. The screen remained dark as he flipped it open. Pressing the power button, the phone remained unresponsive. “Great.” He thought shoving the useless device back into his pocket.

The sound of Luke’s footsteps falling hard against the black asphalt broke the midnight silence as he began running home.

Richland, WA

January 2nd, 2023

11:59 PM Pacific Time

Walter’s eyes were wide as quarters as he held the flashlight up. The small beam of light cascaded over the metal flooring as he navigated his way through the maze of hallways. Emergency generators had come online minutes after the initial black out. To conserve power, the overhead lighting was kept as dim as possible. Walter’s old eyes strained against the low light conditions as he made his way to core.

“How’s everything looking, Walt?” the young man’s nasally voice squawked like a bird over the radio.

“Shit if I know, I can see less than a bat down here. You sure we can’t turn the lights up a bit brighter? I mean come on, these are some pretty unsafe working conditions.”

 

     “You think this is unsafe… Just wait and see how hairy things get if the power doesn’t come back on in the next few hours.”

 

     Walter shuddered to think about that. He had been around long enough to know what would happen if they didn’t get the electricity back up and running in the next 4 hours.

Crack.

 

The flashlight dropped from Walter’s fingers as his head slammed into a low hanging girder. Walter cursed as he rubbed his head. A trickle of blood oozed down his cheek as he dropped to his knees to find the flashlight.

“Why didn’t we send one of you young bucks down here, I can’t see shit.” he said angrily into his radio.

“I’m too pretty, and you’re just too expendable.” The man’s voice said jokingly from the other end.

Ain’t that the truth? Walter thought as his fingers wrapped around the flashlight. Standing carefully, he continued his journey into the dark underbelly of the Plant

Taking a left at the end of the corridor, Walter’s light fell on the three large diesel power generators churning away. The fumes left him feeling dizzy as he approached the generators. He could feel the vibrations running from the soles of his feet to the top of his head as he put his ear plugs in. Walter gave each of the three generators a thorough scan with his flashlight. Satisfied that all three would continue operating at maximum capacity for the foreseeable future, he turned to walk away.

Lifting the radio he said, “Everything looks good down he…”

A blast suddenly ripped through the thick concrete wall behind him sending the lean old man flying through the air. Pain shot through his body as he pin balled off the wall back to the hard ground. He could taste copper as his mouth filled with blood. The ringing in his ears was nauseating as he propped himself up on his elbow. Green flames lapped towards the ceiling sending a wave of heat blasting into his face. The feeling of having a white hot poker jabbed into his flesh seized him as he tried to raise an arm to shield his face from the fire.

“Walter?! What’s happening? Is everything okay?” Walter could barely make out the sound of the young man’s voice over the roar of the fire. Frantically, he looked around for the radio.

There.

Crawling across the floor, he pulled his body across the debris towards that small glimmer of hope.

A second explosion, smaller than the first, rang off in the distance above him. The ceiling made a sickening crack, sending a ball of adrenaline coursing through his veins as Walter instinctively covered his head. Squeezing his eyes shut he recalled an image of his wife on their wedding day as the ceiling came crashing down around him.

Washington D.C.

January 3^rd, 2023

3:10 AM Eastern Time

 

President Madison Parker turned as the large steel doors shut behind her. She didn’t like the feeling of being buried deep beneath the Earth. This was as close to a coffin as she ever wanted to come, no thank you. Just go ahead and cremate me thank you very much.

“Madame President if you’ll follow me.” She followed the armed guard down a long hallway. Pulling up at the door at the end, he snapped her a salute before stepping to the side. Despite all the electronics, and plush leather furniture decorating the room, the low hanging ceiling did nothing to help her forget where she currently was.

“Stu, would you care to tell me what the hell is going on?” Parker said taking her seat behind the large oak desk.

The Secretary of State looked back at her with blood flushed cheeks. All the other color had disappeared from the bald man’s flabby face as if he had already spent years deep in the subterranean bunker.

“About forty-five minutes ago we got a report from Director Brooke over at NASA.” He said covering his mouth as he let out a cough. “It seems the Solar and Heliospheric Observatory otherwise known as SOHO relayed a series of reports to Goddard Space Flight Center out of Maryland.”

“I don’t need every little detail right now, Stu. Give me the big picture and then we can work back.”

“Sorry.” He said looking away from the President to the woman sitting in the chair to his right. “The Sun has released a solar flare towards Earth.”

“Not just any flare, Madame President.” The woman interrupted. “A Carrington flair.”

“Who are you and what does that mean?” Parker said looking the thin woman up and down. She had the look of an academic about her. If she let down her hair, and got rid of those ridiculous oval glasses, she might even be a looker.“

“Dr. Margaret Davis with NASA. I’m here per Director Brooke’s request.” She said extending her hand to the President. Parker was surprised at the Dr.’s grip as she took the woman’s hand in her own. “And a Carrington flare is the largest class of solar flare we know of. There has only been one reported case of this type of flare in modern history. It wreaked havoc back in 1859, and it guarantees to do a lot worse this time around.”

“What kind of damage are we looking at?” Palmer said leaning forward on her elbows.

“In 1972 a huge solar flare knocked out long-distance telephone communication across Illinois. Fast-forward to 1989 when a similarly sized flare crashed into Earth’s magnetic field causing a geomagnetic storm. The field of magnetism that surrounds our planet literally quivered at the impact. In Canada, the effects of the blast plunged six million people into darkness for nine hours.”

“So, we’re looking at losing power and telephones for a couple hours?” Stu said showing visible relief as he sat back in his chair.

“No, I don’t think you quite understand. Those are the largest solar flares in the last forty years, the Carrington flare gets its name from an event that took place in 1859. That blast was more than twice as large as any we’ve ever seen in our lifetime.” Davis paused to swallow as she moved to the edge of her seat. “This blast will be about that size, if not larger. What we are looking at is the destruction of our power infrastructure. The solar flare will overwhelm the power transformers world-wide, it will debilitate all forms of communication from radar, cell phone, and GPS. We are looking at losing every satellite in the flare’s path. And that’s not the worst case scenario.”

Parker locked eyes with Davis as she did her best to remain calm.

“There are over seven hundred nuclear reactors worldwide. Without electricity, the plants will not be able to keep the reactors cool. They will turn diesel powered generators, but that is only going to buy them hours at best. I’m afraid it could take months to get our power grid up and running again after a blast this size.”

President Parker sat back in her chair as the Davis’ words sunk in. Her eyes drifted over to Stu whose face had blanched again. With his beady little eyes bugging out of his head, she only hoped she didn’t look as terrified as him, right now.

“I’m afraid that even if are somehow able to contain half of the nuclear reactors, we are still looking at global annihilation. The tidal wave of radiation will irradiate anything and everything that breathes and will permeate the topsoil leaving an environment hostile to life as we know it for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh God.” Stu said as he buried his face in his hands.

“We’re looking at global extinction.” Davis said ignoring the Secretary of Staff. “Not just for humans, for everything, minus cockroaches.”

A feint smile crossed President Parker’s lips at the Dr.’s attempt at levity. Given the circumstances, a smile seemed to be the only thing keeping her from breaking down there on the spot like Stu.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I was hoping to hear.” Parker said reaching an arm out to the telephone on the corner of her desk. “Get me General Raeder, now.” She said holding down the intercom button.

“Dr. Davis, thank you for coming to see me. I’m sure you have family and loved ones you would much rather see at this time. I’ll have an escort take you wherever you need to go.” She said rising from her chair.

“Thank you, Madame President.” Dr. Davis said as she followed an armed guard from the room.

“What the hell are we going to do, Maddie?” Stu said from the other side of the room. Standing over the bar in the corner he turned quickly with a glass full of whiskey in both hands. She took the glass from him and studied it thoughtfully.

A tall man with a square chin, thick muscles, and close cropped hair, that had long since turned silver, suddenly emerged at the door. “Madame President.” He said with a low gruff voice as he snapped a salute.

“General Raeder, we’re implementing Noah’s Ark, immediately.”

“Noah’s Ark?” Stu repeated from behind Parker. “What’s that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like, Stu.” She said finishing the glass of whiskey in one long pull. The brown liquid burned as it ran down her throat. “It’s humanities only chance for survival.”

Richland, WA

January 3^rd, 2023

4:00 AM Pacific Time

 

     Luke held his three month old daughter Valerie against his chest as he paced the room. Melanie smoked a cigarette in the corner as she stared out the window at the dancing lights in the early morning sky.

Valerie, even on a good night, was plagued by restlessness. Her cries sent chills down Luke’s spine, and he could tell that Melanie was increasingly on edge as he rubbed the small child’s back in hopes of soothing her back to sleep. For hours they had been awake, as if the infant sensed the cosmic imbalance and was crying out in protest. Luke’s legs ached as he forced himself to keep moving. Something very bad had happened. All the power in the house was out. There was no light, save the dull red embers burning from the tip of Melanie’s cigarette and the green and orange aurora burning up the sky.

“What do you thi…” Melanie started to say as the feint whispers of a siren began to sound off in the distance. The color leached from her face as she looked to him with wide eyes. Luke felt his stomach churning as Valerie let out a fresh cry.

“What’s that?” Melanie said.

“I dunno?” he said shrugging his shoulders, trying his hardest to appear undisturbed. “Maybe a tornado siren?”

“Do they get tornado’s here?”

Shrug.

“The Beakers…” she said pointing a finger at the window. “their heading to their back yard.”

Luke joined his wife by the window. Placing a hand on her shoulder he leaned over to follow her finger. Sure enough, there they went Ray, Lisa, and their two kids Abbey and Michael. Holding hands like a row of ducks they filed between the fence and their house as they made their way to the backyard.

“Should we go ask them what’s going on?”

Melanie was already out of her seat and across the room by the time Luke finished his words. Following close behind, she yanked the front door open as she trotted across the yard to the Beaker’s house. As they followed the fence line to the Beaker’s back yard, Luke realized Valerie had stopped crying.

He let out a small smile as they rounded the corner of the house. That smile vanished instantly as he saw the Beakers filing down into what looked like a bomb shelter.

“Ray?” Melanie raised her voice over the sound of the siren blaring in the distance.

Ray twirled around with wide eyes as he held a shotgun at his shoulder. Luke darted between the man and Melanie which he instantly regretted as he realized he was still holding Valerie. Wincing, Luke turned to the side to shield the baby.

“What are you doing?” Melanie said with shock in her voice. “What’s that siren? What’s happening?”

Realizing who they were, Ray pointed his weapon towards the ground. “I’m sorry. There was an accident over at the Columbia Generating Plant.”

It took a moment for Luke to understand what the man was saying. Suddenly he remembered that Ray had worked at the nuclear power plant for the past fifteen years.

“What kind of accident?” Luke managed to say feebly, fearing he didn’t actually want to know the answer.

“I dunno… none of it makes any sense. All the powers out…everywhere… phones, lights, cars, nothings working… Without electricity, there’s no way of keeping the core of the nuclear reactor from overheating. I was there earlier tonight, we have diesel generators that can keep it cool for a bit, but something happened… they blew up…” Even in the low light, Luke could see the man’s tears streaming down his face. “I ran all the way home. There’s no stopping it… it’s going to blow.”

Luke felt as if somebody had just kicked him in the gut. “What do we do?” he said looking over Ray’s shoulder at the bunker.

“I’m sorry… I truly am.” Ray said raising the weapon again. “I have to think of my family. We have enough supplies to last us a bit, but we can’t fit any more people. You’ll have to find someplace else.”

An explosion like a thousand claps of thunder shattered the morning. The siren stopped abruptly as Luke angled his eyes towards the mushroom cloud reaching towards the sky in the distance.

“Please…” Luke said stepping forward. Ray cocked his weapon as he slowly backed down the stairs of the bunker. “Please, please, take Val. I beg you.” Luke held out the small bundle of child as he choked on the tears streaming down his face.

Ray’s eyes darted between Luke and the baby. Luke could see the inner turmoil on the man’s face as he finally said, “Okay.” With one hand still on the weapon, he took the small child in his other. Valerie let out a cry that seemed to shake the world as Ray disappeared into the dark hole of the bunker.

“Thank you…thank you…” Luke said as he forced himself to turn away from the bunker. Melanie was kneeling on the ground with eyes wide open. Her face was frozen as if carved from marble.

Luke dropped to the ground and wrapped his arms around his wife as they stared up at the cloud fast approaching.

Should’ve stayed in L.A.

The End.

Thanks for reading, as per always I didn’t do any kind of editing or read-through, so hopefully everything got transferred from my brain to the paper accurately. Let me know if any of it didn’t work out.

Anthony

 

© 2012 Anthony Vicino

Birth of God Update…

Hit 37,600 words on Birth of God, today. That equals 150 pages. This is pretty exciting to me, so I thought I’d add a little update. Unfortunately, I don’t have another short story to go with this update, so it’s really just me tooting my own horn. I plan on adding another story on Thursday, so stay tuned for that.

 

Thanks for all the feedback guys. Remember, if you have any ideas for a story, or if there is one of my stories, or characters, you really enjoy, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to bring one of my future works back to that story-world.

 

Anthony