For the Friday Challenge.
The kid, the boy, and the creature
Detective Jack Harper sat silently watching the smoke from his cigarette make lazy trails in the air as the man across from him tried to stop shaking long enough to light his own. Once the nervous man had inhaled a few drags Jack flicked the switch for the tape recorder on the table.
“It's Wednesday September 16 1959, the time is now 3:48 am. Detective Jack Harper taking interview statement of..” Jack briefly paused the recorder again as he looked over at the man with an air of derision. “What did you say your name was again?” he said to the nervous man.
“Tom...Tom Parker, but everybody just calls me 'the kid'.” he said between rapid drags on his smoke.
Jack was about to turn the recorder back on but was interrupted when Officer Pratley stuck his head in the room.
“Hey Jack. You gonna be okay here alone with tough guy here? I was thinking about checking out the crime scene if you don't need me.” he said hoping the older detective would let him go. If the others hadn't been exaggerating about how bad it was he may even have a chance to get a few pics gruesome enough to send to one of those true crime magazines.
Jack waved the younger officer off without a word, hoping to get back to this interview and back home before dawn. He impatiently pressed record as soon as Pratley shut the door.
“As I was saying, this is Detective Jack Harper taking interview statement of Tom Parker. Mister Parker in your own words please describe the incident for the record.?” Jack said as he finally took a good look at the young man.
What he'd taken for at first as an unkempt and careless appearance was dashed once he studied the kid.
Every piece of Tom's clothing was torn in some way, as if by a wild animal. Jack found himself staring at the kid wondering what he'd witnessed when Tom begin to speak.
“I was walking Becky Brown home when I saw the boy. He was standing in the middle of the street like he was trying to get hit. So I made sure Becky was at her door before I ran out to get him. To keep him from getting hit you know?” Tom said as a thought occurred to him.
“Oh God, I don't even know his name. How will his parents ever know what happened to him?” Tom said looking at Jack desperate for an answer, any answer.
Jack stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and moved to pull another one from the pack as he mulled the question over for himself. He'd been at the crime scene before he'd been ordered come to the station to take the witness statement. And it was something he'd wondered himself. No reason to worry the kid he thought to himself.
“We already have a tentative ID on the boy.” he said hoping to ease Tom's mind. “His parents are going to be notified within the hour.” Jack said as he watched the kid visibly relax.
With that solved, Tom continued his tale.
“The boy stood still as a statue right until I touched him. Then he jumped back all sudden-like and started whispering about this weird creature.” Tom said shivering at the thought. “He kept moving away every time I got close, so to keep him from getting hit, I started herding him toward the sidewalk. Once he was there things got worse, so much worse.” Tom said
“Why did it get worse then son?” Jack asked leaning back in his chair interested in hearing the answer.
“Because that's when he stopped talking about the creature, and when it showed up.” Tom said as he blew a lungful of smoke across the table.
“Did it now? And what did the creature look like, a great big beastie with dripping fangs and talons I suppose?” Jack asked jokingly thinking that he was being put upon and this was all some bizarre prank.
Tom looked back at Jack with a hurt expression on his face, the shock of what he'd seen evident on his face.
“That's the thing, the worst part of it. The boy, he was the creature.” Tom said, letting his hands fall down to his sides. “I watched as he came at me like it wasn't even happening at first. The boy had one of my arms in a vice-like grip and was clawing at my face with the other one.” Tom said recounting what had happened.
“You have to understand it was either him or me.” Tom said visibly shaken by what had come next.
“When I saw the truck coming down the street, I broke his grip and I waited. I waited until the last second and dove in front of the truck praying that he'd follow. And he did.” Tom said letting out a deep breath as he finally relaxed.
Jack tried his level best to not to leap across the table and strangle the kid. Instead focusing on getting Tom to admit what he'd done.
“You're telling me you killed the boy; I mean, defeated the 'creature'?” Jack said calmly as he watched Tom shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“No, I never said I defeated the creature. And if you had been paying attention you'd know that we're all alone in this building. Not another soul around for miles.” Tom said as he leaned forward to take another cigarette from the pack.
“Fine, given that you're a nutjob, what does the fact that we're alone have to do with anything?” Jack asked as he placed one hand on his gun, just in case the kid tried anything.
“Well you see I had so little time getting used to the boy's body that I barely had any time to have fun before I was forced to take this one. And with you, I plan on taking my time.” Tom said as he dropped the cigarette to the ground and advanced on the detective.
Jack had drawn his gun and fired all six shots before the kid even took a step. He stood shaking with a mix of shock and awe as he watched the kid's body crumple to the ground in a lifeless heap.
“Oh God what have I done?!? I need to get someone here.” he said as he flipped off the recorder and sat back down in his chair.
“After all I can't spend too long in this body, it's positively ancient.” said the thing wearing Jack as it reached for another cigarette and calmly waited for the others to return.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Friday Challenge Entry #8
For the Friday Challenge.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier #2
"Red Hood courier"
The sudden rush of cold and numbness were her only way of telling when she'd left the “real world” and had entered the unforgiving bastardized version of it known only as “The Forest”.
Red had been working at her family's courier service ever since she was first fitted with a neuro-spike on her sixth birthday. She had taken to the job much more quickly than anyone had expected. Sure, being a data-courier had run in her blood for generations, but no one had jumped from the nothing little missions you were supposed to start out from, to full-fledged paying jobs like she had.
Grandma had been so proud of her, that she gave her all the sensitive jobs she'd normally trusted to much older more experienced couriers, like Red's father or her older brothers. By the time she'd turned thirteen Red had developed such a reputation for herself, the family business was practically the only data-courier left in business. Well, at least if you expected your information to get where it was going without being sifted through and copied a few billion times before it got to it's destination, she thought to herself, as she ran across the wide open planes of the computer construct.
Looking at the receipt attached to the data packet Red saw where she had to take it, and sighed.
DeturaFalls@Badlands.universe.
Boring, she thought as she sped by the denizens of the artificial world. To them all they saw of her was a reddish blur going by, but anyone who had been in The Forest more than a day knew who it was.
As she approached the edge of the open space she considered slowing down, but kept up her pace instead wanting to get this job over with. She hated the easy ones like this, she thought. Inwardly she hoped for an actual challenge for once. And because she wasn't giving her full attention to what she was doing, she missed the signs of an ambush until it was too late.
Strung across her path were micro-fine strands of charged neural inhibitor wiring. Nearly invisible to the naked eye Red would have seen them with all the enhancements Grandma had given her, but she didn't until the sudden jerk of going from top speed to a full stop threatened to practically turn her inside out.
Red struggled with the webbing of thin wiring that even now was quickly sapping her strength.
“F*ck it all to hell, who's responsible for this sh*t!?!” she screamed into the darkness of the wooded area she was now trapped in.
A dashing figure stepped out from behind a tree and smiled a toothsome grin as he approached.
“Why dear Red, what a mouth you have on you.” said the stranger.
Red quickly studied his avatar, as she felt herself losing consciousness, hoping that she could identify him once she was free. He was obviously a weirdo, or one of the furries she'd been warned about.
From the neck down he was a nondescript normal man dressed in a bright blue business suit. But his head was that of an anthropomorphized wolf, complete with a full set of razor sharp fangs.
It was at this point she realized that she was utterly helpless and with only two options; stay with the package and face whatever this guy was planning, or signal her operator back home to yank her out and back to safety. Never one to back down from a fight, Red decided to play the last card she still had.
Using the last of her strength, she bent her left thumb back until she heard the tell-tale crack, and began the mental countdown of how much time she had left.
“What's that you say, wolfie?” she said hoping to draw him in closer.
Her plan, what little there was of one counted on it.
“I said you have quite a mouth on you for such an itty bitty thing.” he said as he playfully flicked at the curls of hair hanging limply over her face.
“All the better to tell you better f*ck off.” she said watching the wolf's face try and display the human expression of bemusement.
The wolf laughed at her despite himself. As he got closer to take her head in his grip he smiled and bared every tooth he had in a threatening manner.
“And why ever should I do that, little girl?” he asked dismissively as he looked into her eyes for any sign of what she was planning.
“Well, unless you got the latest upgrades to your anti-artifacting software, by my count you have about three seconds to haul ass out of here.” Red said calmly as she watched the realization of her words sink into the wolf's face.
But before he could even turn to make an escape the entire area was lit up in a sudden ball of bright green light, as anything not linked to Red's feed was wiped out in the blink of an eye. Picking herself up from the ground as it quickly re-materialized underneath her, Red took a minute to check her avatar's vitals, and ensure that her recklessness hadn't wiped the package too.
A row of green lights on all fronts, she searched the area briefly for any sign of the wolf, but found nothing, not even a residual avatar tag or anything. Taking this as a sign, Red decided to take the much more traveled and maintained route to her destination.
As she approached the way-station, she debated over whether to tell her grandma about the attempt on the package, but thought better of it. No reason to scare her, she thought as she waited in line behind the other data-couriers. Besides, what were the odds she'd ever even see that freak again, she thought as she scanned the package over the deposit area, watching it disappear into a small cloud of photons.
“Another job completed.” she said happily as she felt the familiar stomach dropping sensation of returning to the real world.
Gingerly lifting the neuro-spike from the collar around her neck, Red realized that she'd managed to dislocate her thumb in the escape attempt. Hard to hide that from grandma, she thought as she watched the sweet older woman approach her carrying a stack of new jobs preloaded onto the dozens of storage drives in her arms.
Letting the next day's work fall to the table, Red's grandmother fussed over her best worker, checking to make sure she was okay, just like she did after each job was completed.
“You're slipping young woman. That last one took you .0000009 of a second to run. Are you getting slow in your old age?” her grandma playfully chided.
Red smiled and stood on unsteady legs as she hugged the older woman, resting her chin on her grandma's shoulder.
“I'm not old until I'm your age. What, is that 34, 35?” Red said laughing as her grandma's face turned beet red with indignation.
“I'll have you know I did this job until I was forced to retire at 22, missy. You know full well things run a little faster these days than they did in my parents time. Why back then you worked until you were 70, and you liked it!” she said continuing her speech as she followed Red out of the workroom and into the living room, telling her all about the dark days of the late 21 century.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier #2
"Red Hood courier"
The sudden rush of cold and numbness were her only way of telling when she'd left the “real world” and had entered the unforgiving bastardized version of it known only as “The Forest”.
Red had been working at her family's courier service ever since she was first fitted with a neuro-spike on her sixth birthday. She had taken to the job much more quickly than anyone had expected. Sure, being a data-courier had run in her blood for generations, but no one had jumped from the nothing little missions you were supposed to start out from, to full-fledged paying jobs like she had.
Grandma had been so proud of her, that she gave her all the sensitive jobs she'd normally trusted to much older more experienced couriers, like Red's father or her older brothers. By the time she'd turned thirteen Red had developed such a reputation for herself, the family business was practically the only data-courier left in business. Well, at least if you expected your information to get where it was going without being sifted through and copied a few billion times before it got to it's destination, she thought to herself, as she ran across the wide open planes of the computer construct.
Looking at the receipt attached to the data packet Red saw where she had to take it, and sighed.
DeturaFalls@Badlands.universe.
Boring, she thought as she sped by the denizens of the artificial world. To them all they saw of her was a reddish blur going by, but anyone who had been in The Forest more than a day knew who it was.
As she approached the edge of the open space she considered slowing down, but kept up her pace instead wanting to get this job over with. She hated the easy ones like this, she thought. Inwardly she hoped for an actual challenge for once. And because she wasn't giving her full attention to what she was doing, she missed the signs of an ambush until it was too late.
Strung across her path were micro-fine strands of charged neural inhibitor wiring. Nearly invisible to the naked eye Red would have seen them with all the enhancements Grandma had given her, but she didn't until the sudden jerk of going from top speed to a full stop threatened to practically turn her inside out.
Red struggled with the webbing of thin wiring that even now was quickly sapping her strength.
“F*ck it all to hell, who's responsible for this sh*t!?!” she screamed into the darkness of the wooded area she was now trapped in.
A dashing figure stepped out from behind a tree and smiled a toothsome grin as he approached.
“Why dear Red, what a mouth you have on you.” said the stranger.
Red quickly studied his avatar, as she felt herself losing consciousness, hoping that she could identify him once she was free. He was obviously a weirdo, or one of the furries she'd been warned about.
From the neck down he was a nondescript normal man dressed in a bright blue business suit. But his head was that of an anthropomorphized wolf, complete with a full set of razor sharp fangs.
It was at this point she realized that she was utterly helpless and with only two options; stay with the package and face whatever this guy was planning, or signal her operator back home to yank her out and back to safety. Never one to back down from a fight, Red decided to play the last card she still had.
Using the last of her strength, she bent her left thumb back until she heard the tell-tale crack, and began the mental countdown of how much time she had left.
“What's that you say, wolfie?” she said hoping to draw him in closer.
Her plan, what little there was of one counted on it.
“I said you have quite a mouth on you for such an itty bitty thing.” he said as he playfully flicked at the curls of hair hanging limply over her face.
“All the better to tell you better f*ck off.” she said watching the wolf's face try and display the human expression of bemusement.
The wolf laughed at her despite himself. As he got closer to take her head in his grip he smiled and bared every tooth he had in a threatening manner.
“And why ever should I do that, little girl?” he asked dismissively as he looked into her eyes for any sign of what she was planning.
“Well, unless you got the latest upgrades to your anti-artifacting software, by my count you have about three seconds to haul ass out of here.” Red said calmly as she watched the realization of her words sink into the wolf's face.
But before he could even turn to make an escape the entire area was lit up in a sudden ball of bright green light, as anything not linked to Red's feed was wiped out in the blink of an eye. Picking herself up from the ground as it quickly re-materialized underneath her, Red took a minute to check her avatar's vitals, and ensure that her recklessness hadn't wiped the package too.
A row of green lights on all fronts, she searched the area briefly for any sign of the wolf, but found nothing, not even a residual avatar tag or anything. Taking this as a sign, Red decided to take the much more traveled and maintained route to her destination.
As she approached the way-station, she debated over whether to tell her grandma about the attempt on the package, but thought better of it. No reason to scare her, she thought as she waited in line behind the other data-couriers. Besides, what were the odds she'd ever even see that freak again, she thought as she scanned the package over the deposit area, watching it disappear into a small cloud of photons.
“Another job completed.” she said happily as she felt the familiar stomach dropping sensation of returning to the real world.
Gingerly lifting the neuro-spike from the collar around her neck, Red realized that she'd managed to dislocate her thumb in the escape attempt. Hard to hide that from grandma, she thought as she watched the sweet older woman approach her carrying a stack of new jobs preloaded onto the dozens of storage drives in her arms.
Letting the next day's work fall to the table, Red's grandmother fussed over her best worker, checking to make sure she was okay, just like she did after each job was completed.
“You're slipping young woman. That last one took you .0000009 of a second to run. Are you getting slow in your old age?” her grandma playfully chided.
Red smiled and stood on unsteady legs as she hugged the older woman, resting her chin on her grandma's shoulder.
“I'm not old until I'm your age. What, is that 34, 35?” Red said laughing as her grandma's face turned beet red with indignation.
“I'll have you know I did this job until I was forced to retire at 22, missy. You know full well things run a little faster these days than they did in my parents time. Why back then you worked until you were 70, and you liked it!” she said continuing her speech as she followed Red out of the workroom and into the living room, telling her all about the dark days of the late 21 century.
Friday Challenge Entry #7
For the Friday Challenge.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier entry #1
"A modern P.I.N.O.C.C.I.O."
Stage 1
George sat at the terminal his finger wavering over the final key, the one that would execute the program. After this there would be no turning back, he'd be bringing a new life into this world, one he'd ultimately be responsible for.
Making his decision about a millisecond before pressing down on the actual button, George sat back and watched as the machinery in his lab did the rest. A long metal arm reached from the ceiling and pulled the lifeless husk laying on the table towards the middle of the room. Once properly aligned at a pre-set point another machine above the husk a sudden rush of energy appeared and shot into it.
As he waited, watching for any sign of life George readied the next portion of the animation process. Pulling the AI network from its housing he ran any final conductivity tests, and systems diagnostics before “suiting up” to enter the sealed lab.
Gently cradling the AI housing George approached the still formless husk, watching as it began to take shape.
He carefully set the AI on the metal table, and checked the small computer display monitoring the project's progress. Waiting for a certain point in the process George offered a small prayer, “Lord let this be the one.” he uttered under his breath.
George counted down the seconds until the husk would be ready to place the AI into it.
Nine tries, and nine failures, he knew that this would be the last attempt he'd be allowed. That was why he made sure this time he made it count. He put something special into this AI's neural network.
Looking down at the husk as he inserted the AI George made a promise,
“This time Peter, you'll come back to me.”
Stage 2
“Prototype. Inorganic-Nanotech. Organic-Compound. Combination. Iteration. One.” George said to the assembled scientists, reporters and corporate officers gathered around him in the impromptu conference.
“Around here at Metadata Labs we jokingly referred to this project as “Pinoccio”. I say referred, because up until a few days ago, we naturally assumed the project was like all the rest. A failure. That is, until it...I mean until he asked if he could choose his own name.” George said to the hushed whispers of amazement of the crowd.
“So without further hesitation, allow me to introduce you to Peter, the worlds first artificially grown human replicant.” George said turning to the back of the stage.
“Peter? Could you come out here please?” he asked in a fatherly manner to whoever was hiding in wait behind the curtain.
After a few seconds of silence from the crowd, the blue muslin cloth was parted by a child-like hand followed by what looked like to all accounts, a boy of about ten years of age.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the boy walked across the stage right to the side of the doctor, clutching at the man's leg fearfully as he stared at the large assemblage of people there to see him.
“Now Peter, you know you have no reason to be afraid, we talked about this, remember?” George said as he bent down to speak to the child, either unaware his mic was still on, or not caring about being heard.
The boy smiled at the doctor, and in a historic moment said his first words in public. “Yes father.”
With that the crowd erupted in questions, each jockeying to be answered first. This sudden rush of emotion and noise frightened the boy who again clung to the leg of the doctor, until George playfully tousled his hair and asked for silence.
“Now before I answer any questions, I'd like to have the other project members to come up here and get their due as well.” George said motioning for the two people who worked with him side by said from the beginning.
An older balding man limped towards the stage with the aid of a cane, and the help of a beautiful young woman in a lab coat beside him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce two of the finest minds in the fields of neurolinguistics and cybernetic development, Doctors James Cricket,and Azura Faye.” George said as the two arrived at the stage to help field any questions the crowd would have.
Doctor Cricket carefully and gratefully sat in the chair that had been brought up to the stage specifically for him, before thanking his young research fellow for her assistance in getting him there. He motioned for George to come closer so he could whisper something in his ear before any questions were asked.
“Doctor Cricket just wanted to remind me, that for any members of the press here today, he is in fact Dr. James E. Cricket, not to be confused with his grandson the pediatrician James B. Cricket.” George said with a chuckle that was followed up by similar responses among the crowd.
For the next hour they each answered the multitude of questions posed by the press, and the others in attendance. Once the crowd's curiosity had been satisfied, they had happily followed Mr. Mangiafuoco the director of Metadata labs on a guided tour of the facilities where this “wonder of the modern age” had been born.
George stayed behind with Peter and his partners for a short moment of peace before a much more public unveiling of their scientific breakthrough later.
Doctor Faye waited until it was just the four of them in the large conference room before pulling George to her and angrily saying what had been on her mind since the project's inception.
“Damn it George, it's bad enough you crafted this thing to look like our dead son, but did you have to name it after him too?!” she said with genuine hurt in her eyes and a quiver in her voice.
“I think that's why I went back to my maiden name when you came to Mangiafuoco with this disgusting idea. The thought of being known as Dr. George Petto's ex-wife after this is bad enough.” she said not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.
Not waiting for him to answer she turned and walked away, her stride broken only by a few choked sobs as she made her way to the exit.
George turned to see Doctor Cricket playing some game with Peter on a portable device, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. He smiled at the boy, and walked over to the two.
“Peter, would you mind giving Dr. Cricket and I a moment alone?” he said to the boy.
Peter simply nodded and took off running to the stage-end into a flying leap to the ground below. He laughed as he landed and kept on running, at first in circles, and then randomly as if chasing something only he could see.
“Now that he's gone I'd like to thank you for what you really said at the meeting.” George said to his elder friend and mentor.
“I meant it George, I'll never tell anyone what you did. We're the only two people who know that Peter's AI is based on your son. I'll take it to my grave.” Dr. Cricket said solemnly as he watched both the boy run around the room, and the once grieving father see what could have been.
“Thank you James.” replied George, happy now that in some fashion at least, he'd get to see Peter grow up.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier entry #1
"A modern P.I.N.O.C.C.I.O."
Stage 1
George sat at the terminal his finger wavering over the final key, the one that would execute the program. After this there would be no turning back, he'd be bringing a new life into this world, one he'd ultimately be responsible for.
Making his decision about a millisecond before pressing down on the actual button, George sat back and watched as the machinery in his lab did the rest. A long metal arm reached from the ceiling and pulled the lifeless husk laying on the table towards the middle of the room. Once properly aligned at a pre-set point another machine above the husk a sudden rush of energy appeared and shot into it.
As he waited, watching for any sign of life George readied the next portion of the animation process. Pulling the AI network from its housing he ran any final conductivity tests, and systems diagnostics before “suiting up” to enter the sealed lab.
Gently cradling the AI housing George approached the still formless husk, watching as it began to take shape.
He carefully set the AI on the metal table, and checked the small computer display monitoring the project's progress. Waiting for a certain point in the process George offered a small prayer, “Lord let this be the one.” he uttered under his breath.
George counted down the seconds until the husk would be ready to place the AI into it.
Nine tries, and nine failures, he knew that this would be the last attempt he'd be allowed. That was why he made sure this time he made it count. He put something special into this AI's neural network.
Looking down at the husk as he inserted the AI George made a promise,
“This time Peter, you'll come back to me.”
Stage 2
“Prototype. Inorganic-Nanotech. Organic-Compound. Combination. Iteration. One.” George said to the assembled scientists, reporters and corporate officers gathered around him in the impromptu conference.
“Around here at Metadata Labs we jokingly referred to this project as “Pinoccio”. I say referred, because up until a few days ago, we naturally assumed the project was like all the rest. A failure. That is, until it...I mean until he asked if he could choose his own name.” George said to the hushed whispers of amazement of the crowd.
“So without further hesitation, allow me to introduce you to Peter, the worlds first artificially grown human replicant.” George said turning to the back of the stage.
“Peter? Could you come out here please?” he asked in a fatherly manner to whoever was hiding in wait behind the curtain.
After a few seconds of silence from the crowd, the blue muslin cloth was parted by a child-like hand followed by what looked like to all accounts, a boy of about ten years of age.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the boy walked across the stage right to the side of the doctor, clutching at the man's leg fearfully as he stared at the large assemblage of people there to see him.
“Now Peter, you know you have no reason to be afraid, we talked about this, remember?” George said as he bent down to speak to the child, either unaware his mic was still on, or not caring about being heard.
The boy smiled at the doctor, and in a historic moment said his first words in public. “Yes father.”
With that the crowd erupted in questions, each jockeying to be answered first. This sudden rush of emotion and noise frightened the boy who again clung to the leg of the doctor, until George playfully tousled his hair and asked for silence.
“Now before I answer any questions, I'd like to have the other project members to come up here and get their due as well.” George said motioning for the two people who worked with him side by said from the beginning.
An older balding man limped towards the stage with the aid of a cane, and the help of a beautiful young woman in a lab coat beside him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce two of the finest minds in the fields of neurolinguistics and cybernetic development, Doctors James Cricket,and Azura Faye.” George said as the two arrived at the stage to help field any questions the crowd would have.
Doctor Cricket carefully and gratefully sat in the chair that had been brought up to the stage specifically for him, before thanking his young research fellow for her assistance in getting him there. He motioned for George to come closer so he could whisper something in his ear before any questions were asked.
“Doctor Cricket just wanted to remind me, that for any members of the press here today, he is in fact Dr. James E. Cricket, not to be confused with his grandson the pediatrician James B. Cricket.” George said with a chuckle that was followed up by similar responses among the crowd.
For the next hour they each answered the multitude of questions posed by the press, and the others in attendance. Once the crowd's curiosity had been satisfied, they had happily followed Mr. Mangiafuoco the director of Metadata labs on a guided tour of the facilities where this “wonder of the modern age” had been born.
George stayed behind with Peter and his partners for a short moment of peace before a much more public unveiling of their scientific breakthrough later.
Doctor Faye waited until it was just the four of them in the large conference room before pulling George to her and angrily saying what had been on her mind since the project's inception.
“Damn it George, it's bad enough you crafted this thing to look like our dead son, but did you have to name it after him too?!” she said with genuine hurt in her eyes and a quiver in her voice.
“I think that's why I went back to my maiden name when you came to Mangiafuoco with this disgusting idea. The thought of being known as Dr. George Petto's ex-wife after this is bad enough.” she said not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.
Not waiting for him to answer she turned and walked away, her stride broken only by a few choked sobs as she made her way to the exit.
George turned to see Doctor Cricket playing some game with Peter on a portable device, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. He smiled at the boy, and walked over to the two.
“Peter, would you mind giving Dr. Cricket and I a moment alone?” he said to the boy.
Peter simply nodded and took off running to the stage-end into a flying leap to the ground below. He laughed as he landed and kept on running, at first in circles, and then randomly as if chasing something only he could see.
“Now that he's gone I'd like to thank you for what you really said at the meeting.” George said to his elder friend and mentor.
“I meant it George, I'll never tell anyone what you did. We're the only two people who know that Peter's AI is based on your son. I'll take it to my grave.” Dr. Cricket said solemnly as he watched both the boy run around the room, and the once grieving father see what could have been.
“Thank you James.” replied George, happy now that in some fashion at least, he'd get to see Peter grow up.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday Challenge Entry #6
For the Friday Challenge.
“The dinner”
11/19/09 11:33 A.M.
Less than a week until the big day, he thought to himself as he wheeled the cart through the aisles of his local mega-mart. Searching for everything he'd need for the big meal only a week away he tried his best to contain his excitement.
Jason was overjoyed at the fact his mom had agreed to have Thanksgiving dinner at his place this year. Even though his house wasn't nearly as big as his brother Jim's, or as close as his baby sister Carol's place, he knew the family would have a good time, he assured himself as he grabbed for the biggest bag of fresh cranberries on the shelf.
11/20/09 8:13 A.M.
The constant blaring of something off in the distance was making it hard to concentrate on exactly what Shania Twain and Taylor Swift were doing to him. Jason looked down at the two ladies and said, “Hey that almost sounds like my alarm..”
“Damn!” he screamed as he sat up in bed before he even looked at the clock radio on his bedside table. He'd overslept, and by a lot. His folks were waiting for him to pick them up at the airport.
For well over an hour and a half by his reckoning, he thought as he grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor and scrambled out the door with one shoe on and the other in his hand.
If he rushed and blew through a couple of red lights he might just make it before they gave up and called Jim or Carol to pick them up. Jason dread either of them lording that over him, so he peeled out of his driveway with a loud screech and headed off to pick up his parents.
11/20/09 9:41 A.M.
Jason stood waiting at the arrival gate for the plane his parents took checking his cellphone for any voice-mails or text messages from Jim or Carol, expecting to find a childishly worded taunt at forgetting to pick up mom and dad, but found nothing. Maybe all the worrying was for nothing, he thought as he scanned the faces of the crowd approaching him trying to pick out their faces.
11/20/09 11:20 A.M.
Okay, he thought as he stared at his watch for the ninth time in as many minutes. It's not like mom and dad are terrorists or drug mules, so where are they? The thought of his parents stuck in some back room of the airport getting interrogated and receiving a cavity search made him chuckle a little, mainly because he knew his folks were the most boring unexciting people on the face of the earth and that the chances of that happening were slim and none.
Jason sighed as he dialed Jim's cell, regretting every number dialed and actually hesitating before he pressed SEND. Jesus this was gonna suck, he thought as he waited for Jim to pick up.
RING
RING
RING
RING
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Jim, it's me are mom and dad with you?” Jason said waiting for the inevitable snarky comeback, but all he heard was silence.
“Jim, did you hear me? I asked you if you have mom and dad with you, I think I missed them at the airport.” Jason said knowing his brother wouldn't let a chance to really zing him go by twice.
“Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number?” came the confused reply.
Jason took the phone away from his ear and took a deep breath before speaking, knowing that Jim was putting him on just to get a rise out of him.
“Ha ha, very funny Jim, now answer my question, did you or did you not pick up mom and dad already?” Jason said wearily hoping that Jim would let him off easy this time.
“Okay pal, I don't know who you are or how you got this number, but I'm hanging up right now.” he said, and before Jason could get in a word edgewise the line went dead.
Looking at the phone like it was an alien bug come to life in his hand, Jason knew that Jim was going to be a real jerk about this so he decided to cut out the middleman as it were and quick call Carol. He hoped that she'd at least be mature enough not to screw with him and give him a straight answer so he could go home.
RING
RING
RING
“Hello, McManus residence.” she said with the sounds of children screaming in the background.
“Carol, thank God I caught you, listen Jim is being a real jerk. Can you tell me if he picked up mom and dad at the airport yet?” Jason said praying that Jim hadn't gotten to her already.
“Who..Oh you want Jim, I'm sorry he left to pick up our folks at the airport, he should be back in a couple of minutes if you want to talk to him then. Who should I say is calling?” she said sweetly, waiting to take down a message.
Jason decided enough was enough. His day was crappy enough already, after a nearly two hour drive, and waiting around for that long at the airport was enough.
“You know damn well who this is.” he said not waiting for her to respond. “It's your older brother Jason. Enough with the games okay?” he said a little louder than he intended.
People around him began to back away and the guards who until up to now had paid him no mind, began to watch him. Jason put the phone back to his ear hoping that would calm down the spooked travelers around him, and waited for Carol to admit it was all some prank and that it was over.
But that isn't what happened.
“Listen, I don't know who you are, but my brother, my only brother's name is Jim, so whatever you're doing, if it's just a wrong number or a scam or whatever. It's not gonna work. Okay?” she said hanging up before he had a chance to speak.
Jason turned and quickly left the airport, headed for his car resolute that he'd get to the bottom of this come hell or high water.
Even though he knew where Jim's place was, he had no idea how to get there from the airport, and was glad he'd invested in the tiny GPS unit on his dash. Listening to the monotone voice guide him, Jason kept going over the strange conversations in his mind as he blindly followed the directions the whole way.
Once he parked across the street from Jim's house the day's events took a stranger turn. He'd always thought that his house sorta looked like a smaller version of Jim's house, a fact his older brother needled him with right up until he'd closed on the deal, but looking at it now, Jason was struck at exactly how much the two buildings resembled each other.
Resembled hell, they were twins.
A sound from down the street got his attention and he watched as Jim's Beemer drove up into the driveway and parked. Jason had his hand on the door-handle and was ready to open the door and confront his brother, holiday be damned.
But then he saw it, a sight that defied all reason. Across the street Jason watched as their dad slid out from behind the drivers seat a smile to beat the band on his face, and from the passenger seat, well Jason watched as a perfect replica of himself stood and helped mom get out of the backseat.
“Damn son, she's a fine ride.” shouted dad as he handed the keys back to the other Jason.
“Pop, that's no way to speak about mom, she's right here.” said the other Jason smiling.
They all laughed and walked into the house never noticing Jason, the REAL Jason sitting across the street, with a look of shocked incredulity on his face.
After a few minutes of staring out the windshield of the car, Jason broke the silence with three words.
“What the f*ck?!”
11/20/09 1:48 P.M.
A rumble in his stomach broke through Jason's panicked attempts at reconciling what he'd seen.
He realized that he hadn't eaten anything since last night and numbly started the car to go get something to eat.
As he stood in line at a sandwich shop Jason wondered if perhaps he'd gone insane. That he'd simply snapped at some point and that right now he was really locked up in some looney bin somewhere, and this was all the drugged out fever dreams of his insane mind.
A quick goose from the old lady behind him telling him he was next pulled him out of that line of thinking. If he was crazy he'd hope the ladies playing grab-ass with him would be in the under 70 crowd.
Sitting at the table polishing off the rest of his lunch, Jason took out a pen from his shirt pocket and began making a quick list on the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in.
Crazy?
Huge joke?
Dead? Heaven/Hell?
And finally as a joke he wrote down Twilight Zone?
With a smile Jason quickly scratched off “huge joke” and all of the others right away leaving only the most likely reason.
Jason wondered what else could possibly explain his situation. But nothing came to mind.
He knew that among all the items on his list, things had to be pretty bad if he was hoping he was just crazy.
11/20/09 5:51 P.M.
Sitting outside “Jim's” house Jason contemplated confronting the imposter, but decided against it. Anyone capable of stealing a person's face was surely able to hurt or kill his family.
No, what he needed was a plan. And after a few minutes he'd come up with a brilliant one if he said so himself. The only danger was to implement it, he'd have to leave his parents and sister in the hands of the other “him” for at least four or five days.
Seeing no other way, Jason started up his car and began driving the four hours it'd take to get home. Along the way he began to collect the first of the supplies he'd need for his plan to succeed.
11/22/09 5:58 A.M.
Jason lay in bed fully clothed, his hands stained with chemicals, and totally wired from the previous night's work. He'd never synthesized drugs before, so he had a few hits and misses, but overall he was happy with his results.
By his estimates he'd have enough in two days time, and by then he'd have the second phase of his plans in place. His family's life was depending on it.
11/22/09 10:24 A.M.
After an hour of fruitlessly searching on the internet for any mental illness that even remotely corresponded to what he was going through Jason came to the conclusion that he'd never figure it out, and went back to the task at hand.
11/23/09 4:04 A.M
It had been three days since he'd last slept and it didn't bother Jason in the least. If anything he was thinking much clearly and had even begun to unravel what had been happening to him.
The kitchen table was littered with empty food wrappers with nearly illegible notes scrawled on them detailing the massive conspiracy against him. Jason had laughed at how simple it had been to figure it all out.
As he squatted in the darkness in the field out behind his house, a noise in the woods got his attention. One of his traps had been sprung, finally, and now he had a test subject to try out his wares on to see if all his work would pay off.
Jason pulled the syringe from his back pocket and tapped the side of it to make sure there were no air bubbles in the liquid.
It be a shame to get this far and screw up the results with a beginners mistake like that he thought as he laughed standing over the Live-Trap® with one of the many neighborhood cats desperately trying to get out. Jason quickly jabbed the side of the animal with the needle and pushed down on the plunger in one deft move.
Before he had time to stand the cat was already moving around the cage blearily and weaving with each step. In less than 30 seconds it lay on the floor of the cage, totally and completely motionless.
Jason smiled as he carefully capped the syringe and walked back to his house.
Two more days, he though to himself.
11/25/09 11:59 P.M.
He'd had found a hiding place just behind “Jim's” house, a few loose boards in the fence acted as a pretty good makeshift door, and he had everything ready and packed in a backpack at his feet.
Now or never he thought as he picked up the bag and crept silently towards “Jim's” backdoor.
Count on Ol “Jim” to be reliable, no matter whose face he was wearing, he thought as he recovered the master-key from above the door-frame.
He had thought about entering through the sliding glass door, but quickly gave that up when he saw Carol's two girls camped out in sleeping bags on the living room floor. It wouldn't do to go through all this and have it dashed to hell by two freaked out little girls, so he opted for the basement entrance instead.
As he slowly made his way up the creaky basement steps, timing each step with sounds of the house settling, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. But as soon as he reached the door at the top of the stairs and saw his nieces asleep any thoughts about the path he'd chose were erased.
He'd do it for them, if only to ensure “Jim” couldn't hurt them.
He found all the food in the fridge ready for the next day's big meal all laid out as if arranged for his convenience. Carefully opening his bag, he pulled out the glass bottle and a syringe and set to work lacing each and every morsel of food and drink with the drug.
11/26/09 1:35 P.M.
The house was alive with noise and the smells of the food cooking began wafting downstairs. He was sure to stay stone-still and perfectly quiet in the darkest furthest corner of the basement, biding his time until his plan went into action.
11/26/09 3:02 P.M.
“Oh that smells sooo good!” someone said in the dining room above him the voice rendered unrecognizable through the layers of flooring.
“Alright everybody dig in.” said another voice. This one he knew who it belonged to, “Jim” fake Jim, body thief-Jim.
As the sounds of everybody eating and happily enjoying the day above him began to increase so too did his hatred for “Jim”.
He was sorely tempted to run up the stairs and stab the bastard through the eye with the carving knife, but the sudden rush of hostility began to wane as he heard the commotion upstairs start.
“Oh...oh God is she choking?” someone said in a panic as chairs were pushed back in a rush to assist whoever was the first to succumb to his last minute added ingredient in their holiday meal.
The sounds of bodies hitting the floor with a sickening thump increased as he ticked off the family members in his head. Once they'd all been accounted for he made his way up the stairs and into the dining room to see his handiwork up close.
He had to step over dad, and carol's oldest, but neither were the target he was searching for.
Laying the furthest away from the group was “Jim”, limply holding onto the wireless phone, weakly almost inaudibly begging for 911 to “Please help.”
“Jim” saw as he approached and the last words to escape his lips were a plaintive “Why?”
He looked down at the helpless man and smiled.
“You damn well know why.” he said as bent down and plucked the phone from “Jim's” hand.
11/26/09 3:16 P.M.
He sat at the nearest chair and began mumbling to himself. Repeating the same phrase over and over again out loud.
“He's not me, I'm me.”
Standing as he repeated the chant over and over again, he quickly walked to retrieve his bag, and what he'd need for phase two.
Pulling out the small canister of gasoline he starting practically yelling the phrase as he began spreading the fuel all around the house. Making a trail that led out the front door he laid the now nearly empty gas can just inside the front hall lit a match and said the phrase one last time...
“He's not me, I'm me!” he said throwing the match as he finished speaking.
With a smile on his face Jason turned around and walked away from the house without looking back even once.
When he got back to his car Jason locked the doors and fell asleep watching the growing orange glow and the black smoke as it belched from inside “Jim's” house.
11/26/09 4:02 P.M.
Jason sat in his car studying the ruins of the once beautiful home. With only a few standing walls left he wondered if he could even call it that anymore.
What was worse than the devastation and destruction to him, was the fact that who was at fault.
Damn "Jim"...
11/26/09 4:35 P.M.
Jason sat behind the wheel of his car and smiled as he remembered this year's festivities.
Ah...family.
Punching a new destination into the GPS unit he scowled as he realized he'd have less than 3 weeks to prepare for Christmas.
But he knew if he planned it just right it he could even outdo Thanksgiving.
“The dinner”
11/19/09 11:33 A.M.
Less than a week until the big day, he thought to himself as he wheeled the cart through the aisles of his local mega-mart. Searching for everything he'd need for the big meal only a week away he tried his best to contain his excitement.
Jason was overjoyed at the fact his mom had agreed to have Thanksgiving dinner at his place this year. Even though his house wasn't nearly as big as his brother Jim's, or as close as his baby sister Carol's place, he knew the family would have a good time, he assured himself as he grabbed for the biggest bag of fresh cranberries on the shelf.
11/20/09 8:13 A.M.
The constant blaring of something off in the distance was making it hard to concentrate on exactly what Shania Twain and Taylor Swift were doing to him. Jason looked down at the two ladies and said, “Hey that almost sounds like my alarm..”
“Damn!” he screamed as he sat up in bed before he even looked at the clock radio on his bedside table. He'd overslept, and by a lot. His folks were waiting for him to pick them up at the airport.
For well over an hour and a half by his reckoning, he thought as he grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor and scrambled out the door with one shoe on and the other in his hand.
If he rushed and blew through a couple of red lights he might just make it before they gave up and called Jim or Carol to pick them up. Jason dread either of them lording that over him, so he peeled out of his driveway with a loud screech and headed off to pick up his parents.
11/20/09 9:41 A.M.
Jason stood waiting at the arrival gate for the plane his parents took checking his cellphone for any voice-mails or text messages from Jim or Carol, expecting to find a childishly worded taunt at forgetting to pick up mom and dad, but found nothing. Maybe all the worrying was for nothing, he thought as he scanned the faces of the crowd approaching him trying to pick out their faces.
11/20/09 11:20 A.M.
Okay, he thought as he stared at his watch for the ninth time in as many minutes. It's not like mom and dad are terrorists or drug mules, so where are they? The thought of his parents stuck in some back room of the airport getting interrogated and receiving a cavity search made him chuckle a little, mainly because he knew his folks were the most boring unexciting people on the face of the earth and that the chances of that happening were slim and none.
Jason sighed as he dialed Jim's cell, regretting every number dialed and actually hesitating before he pressed SEND. Jesus this was gonna suck, he thought as he waited for Jim to pick up.
RING
RING
RING
RING
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Jim, it's me are mom and dad with you?” Jason said waiting for the inevitable snarky comeback, but all he heard was silence.
“Jim, did you hear me? I asked you if you have mom and dad with you, I think I missed them at the airport.” Jason said knowing his brother wouldn't let a chance to really zing him go by twice.
“Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number?” came the confused reply.
Jason took the phone away from his ear and took a deep breath before speaking, knowing that Jim was putting him on just to get a rise out of him.
“Ha ha, very funny Jim, now answer my question, did you or did you not pick up mom and dad already?” Jason said wearily hoping that Jim would let him off easy this time.
“Okay pal, I don't know who you are or how you got this number, but I'm hanging up right now.” he said, and before Jason could get in a word edgewise the line went dead.
Looking at the phone like it was an alien bug come to life in his hand, Jason knew that Jim was going to be a real jerk about this so he decided to cut out the middleman as it were and quick call Carol. He hoped that she'd at least be mature enough not to screw with him and give him a straight answer so he could go home.
RING
RING
RING
“Hello, McManus residence.” she said with the sounds of children screaming in the background.
“Carol, thank God I caught you, listen Jim is being a real jerk. Can you tell me if he picked up mom and dad at the airport yet?” Jason said praying that Jim hadn't gotten to her already.
“Who..Oh you want Jim, I'm sorry he left to pick up our folks at the airport, he should be back in a couple of minutes if you want to talk to him then. Who should I say is calling?” she said sweetly, waiting to take down a message.
Jason decided enough was enough. His day was crappy enough already, after a nearly two hour drive, and waiting around for that long at the airport was enough.
“You know damn well who this is.” he said not waiting for her to respond. “It's your older brother Jason. Enough with the games okay?” he said a little louder than he intended.
People around him began to back away and the guards who until up to now had paid him no mind, began to watch him. Jason put the phone back to his ear hoping that would calm down the spooked travelers around him, and waited for Carol to admit it was all some prank and that it was over.
But that isn't what happened.
“Listen, I don't know who you are, but my brother, my only brother's name is Jim, so whatever you're doing, if it's just a wrong number or a scam or whatever. It's not gonna work. Okay?” she said hanging up before he had a chance to speak.
Jason turned and quickly left the airport, headed for his car resolute that he'd get to the bottom of this come hell or high water.
Even though he knew where Jim's place was, he had no idea how to get there from the airport, and was glad he'd invested in the tiny GPS unit on his dash. Listening to the monotone voice guide him, Jason kept going over the strange conversations in his mind as he blindly followed the directions the whole way.
Once he parked across the street from Jim's house the day's events took a stranger turn. He'd always thought that his house sorta looked like a smaller version of Jim's house, a fact his older brother needled him with right up until he'd closed on the deal, but looking at it now, Jason was struck at exactly how much the two buildings resembled each other.
Resembled hell, they were twins.
A sound from down the street got his attention and he watched as Jim's Beemer drove up into the driveway and parked. Jason had his hand on the door-handle and was ready to open the door and confront his brother, holiday be damned.
But then he saw it, a sight that defied all reason. Across the street Jason watched as their dad slid out from behind the drivers seat a smile to beat the band on his face, and from the passenger seat, well Jason watched as a perfect replica of himself stood and helped mom get out of the backseat.
“Damn son, she's a fine ride.” shouted dad as he handed the keys back to the other Jason.
“Pop, that's no way to speak about mom, she's right here.” said the other Jason smiling.
They all laughed and walked into the house never noticing Jason, the REAL Jason sitting across the street, with a look of shocked incredulity on his face.
After a few minutes of staring out the windshield of the car, Jason broke the silence with three words.
“What the f*ck?!”
11/20/09 1:48 P.M.
A rumble in his stomach broke through Jason's panicked attempts at reconciling what he'd seen.
He realized that he hadn't eaten anything since last night and numbly started the car to go get something to eat.
As he stood in line at a sandwich shop Jason wondered if perhaps he'd gone insane. That he'd simply snapped at some point and that right now he was really locked up in some looney bin somewhere, and this was all the drugged out fever dreams of his insane mind.
A quick goose from the old lady behind him telling him he was next pulled him out of that line of thinking. If he was crazy he'd hope the ladies playing grab-ass with him would be in the under 70 crowd.
Sitting at the table polishing off the rest of his lunch, Jason took out a pen from his shirt pocket and began making a quick list on the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in.
Crazy?
Huge joke?
Dead? Heaven/Hell?
And finally as a joke he wrote down Twilight Zone?
With a smile Jason quickly scratched off “huge joke” and all of the others right away leaving only the most likely reason.
Jason wondered what else could possibly explain his situation. But nothing came to mind.
He knew that among all the items on his list, things had to be pretty bad if he was hoping he was just crazy.
11/20/09 5:51 P.M.
Sitting outside “Jim's” house Jason contemplated confronting the imposter, but decided against it. Anyone capable of stealing a person's face was surely able to hurt or kill his family.
No, what he needed was a plan. And after a few minutes he'd come up with a brilliant one if he said so himself. The only danger was to implement it, he'd have to leave his parents and sister in the hands of the other “him” for at least four or five days.
Seeing no other way, Jason started up his car and began driving the four hours it'd take to get home. Along the way he began to collect the first of the supplies he'd need for his plan to succeed.
11/22/09 5:58 A.M.
Jason lay in bed fully clothed, his hands stained with chemicals, and totally wired from the previous night's work. He'd never synthesized drugs before, so he had a few hits and misses, but overall he was happy with his results.
By his estimates he'd have enough in two days time, and by then he'd have the second phase of his plans in place. His family's life was depending on it.
11/22/09 10:24 A.M.
After an hour of fruitlessly searching on the internet for any mental illness that even remotely corresponded to what he was going through Jason came to the conclusion that he'd never figure it out, and went back to the task at hand.
11/23/09 4:04 A.M
It had been three days since he'd last slept and it didn't bother Jason in the least. If anything he was thinking much clearly and had even begun to unravel what had been happening to him.
The kitchen table was littered with empty food wrappers with nearly illegible notes scrawled on them detailing the massive conspiracy against him. Jason had laughed at how simple it had been to figure it all out.
As he squatted in the darkness in the field out behind his house, a noise in the woods got his attention. One of his traps had been sprung, finally, and now he had a test subject to try out his wares on to see if all his work would pay off.
Jason pulled the syringe from his back pocket and tapped the side of it to make sure there were no air bubbles in the liquid.
It be a shame to get this far and screw up the results with a beginners mistake like that he thought as he laughed standing over the Live-Trap® with one of the many neighborhood cats desperately trying to get out. Jason quickly jabbed the side of the animal with the needle and pushed down on the plunger in one deft move.
Before he had time to stand the cat was already moving around the cage blearily and weaving with each step. In less than 30 seconds it lay on the floor of the cage, totally and completely motionless.
Jason smiled as he carefully capped the syringe and walked back to his house.
Two more days, he though to himself.
11/25/09 11:59 P.M.
He'd had found a hiding place just behind “Jim's” house, a few loose boards in the fence acted as a pretty good makeshift door, and he had everything ready and packed in a backpack at his feet.
Now or never he thought as he picked up the bag and crept silently towards “Jim's” backdoor.
Count on Ol “Jim” to be reliable, no matter whose face he was wearing, he thought as he recovered the master-key from above the door-frame.
He had thought about entering through the sliding glass door, but quickly gave that up when he saw Carol's two girls camped out in sleeping bags on the living room floor. It wouldn't do to go through all this and have it dashed to hell by two freaked out little girls, so he opted for the basement entrance instead.
As he slowly made his way up the creaky basement steps, timing each step with sounds of the house settling, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. But as soon as he reached the door at the top of the stairs and saw his nieces asleep any thoughts about the path he'd chose were erased.
He'd do it for them, if only to ensure “Jim” couldn't hurt them.
He found all the food in the fridge ready for the next day's big meal all laid out as if arranged for his convenience. Carefully opening his bag, he pulled out the glass bottle and a syringe and set to work lacing each and every morsel of food and drink with the drug.
11/26/09 1:35 P.M.
The house was alive with noise and the smells of the food cooking began wafting downstairs. He was sure to stay stone-still and perfectly quiet in the darkest furthest corner of the basement, biding his time until his plan went into action.
11/26/09 3:02 P.M.
“Oh that smells sooo good!” someone said in the dining room above him the voice rendered unrecognizable through the layers of flooring.
“Alright everybody dig in.” said another voice. This one he knew who it belonged to, “Jim” fake Jim, body thief-Jim.
As the sounds of everybody eating and happily enjoying the day above him began to increase so too did his hatred for “Jim”.
He was sorely tempted to run up the stairs and stab the bastard through the eye with the carving knife, but the sudden rush of hostility began to wane as he heard the commotion upstairs start.
“Oh...oh God is she choking?” someone said in a panic as chairs were pushed back in a rush to assist whoever was the first to succumb to his last minute added ingredient in their holiday meal.
The sounds of bodies hitting the floor with a sickening thump increased as he ticked off the family members in his head. Once they'd all been accounted for he made his way up the stairs and into the dining room to see his handiwork up close.
He had to step over dad, and carol's oldest, but neither were the target he was searching for.
Laying the furthest away from the group was “Jim”, limply holding onto the wireless phone, weakly almost inaudibly begging for 911 to “Please help.”
“Jim” saw as he approached and the last words to escape his lips were a plaintive “Why?”
He looked down at the helpless man and smiled.
“You damn well know why.” he said as bent down and plucked the phone from “Jim's” hand.
11/26/09 3:16 P.M.
He sat at the nearest chair and began mumbling to himself. Repeating the same phrase over and over again out loud.
“He's not me, I'm me.”
Standing as he repeated the chant over and over again, he quickly walked to retrieve his bag, and what he'd need for phase two.
Pulling out the small canister of gasoline he starting practically yelling the phrase as he began spreading the fuel all around the house. Making a trail that led out the front door he laid the now nearly empty gas can just inside the front hall lit a match and said the phrase one last time...
“He's not me, I'm me!” he said throwing the match as he finished speaking.
With a smile on his face Jason turned around and walked away from the house without looking back even once.
When he got back to his car Jason locked the doors and fell asleep watching the growing orange glow and the black smoke as it belched from inside “Jim's” house.
11/26/09 4:02 P.M.
Jason sat in his car studying the ruins of the once beautiful home. With only a few standing walls left he wondered if he could even call it that anymore.
What was worse than the devastation and destruction to him, was the fact that who was at fault.
Damn "Jim"...
11/26/09 4:35 P.M.
Jason sat behind the wheel of his car and smiled as he remembered this year's festivities.
Ah...family.
Punching a new destination into the GPS unit he scowled as he realized he'd have less than 3 weeks to prepare for Christmas.
But he knew if he planned it just right it he could even outdo Thanksgiving.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Friday Challenge Entry #5
For the Friday Challenge.
“Last Hallows Eve”
Zach's toothless smile began to creep me out as we stood outside the back entrance to the funeral home. His cheery demeanor didn't lessen the impact of why we were there, and despite every rationalization I could think of, I knew it was all my fault.
Watching my breath fog the air between us, I thought back to how this all started less than a week ago, back before I'd brought the world and everyone on it to the brink of extinction.
I'd been looking forward to the Fall break and the trip home during my favorite holiday since August. Closing up the lab had been a last minute pain in the ass rush-job that professor Martin had foisted on me without any warning.
She was out the door before I had a chance to ask her if she would get someone else to do it, but I figured if I got it over with quick enough, it wouldn't delay me by too much. Oh to have that day to do over again....
I walked down the crowded rows of lab equipment ensuring everything was properly stowed and secured for the short break in studies. Checking off each item on a clipboard, I double checked to make sure everything that was supposed to be turned off was off, and that any experiment that had been left running wouldn't be a danger if left unattended.
I hadn't been watching where I was walking when it happened.
My left hand barely brushed a beaker full of some noxious fluid, knocking it over and spraying the fluid across the counter right into the path of a Bunsen burner I'd yet to turn off. The brilliant flash of light and heat as the chemical ignited threw me back into a terrarium full of Brazilian moss cultures and set the entire south wall of the lab aflame. In less than a few seconds I found myself struggling to find a way out through the blinding and choking plumes of smoke and fire.
Already disoriented by the scene of carnage I'd manged to create, I wasn't helped when the lab's special fire suppression system went off dousing the room in a fine mist of halon and fire retardant foam, all the while high pitched peals of the fire alarm rang in my ears.
Completely unsure of where I was in relation to the main exit, I decided against feeling my way through the shambles of the lab. Quickly praying to God that I wouldn't die, I made my way through the lab, occasionally bumping into a desk or piece of equipment. It wasn't until I hit something large and metallic that I knew for sure where I was. The central wash station at the front of the room, only thirty-five steps from here to the door, I realized quickly becoming enervated by this minor bit of good fortune.
Once I'd managed to reach the door I hurriedly pushed my way out and into the hallway for my first lungful of fresh air since the accident. The rush of escaping death and finally being able to breathe made me a little light headed and as I slid down the wall landing on my ass, the growing crowd of people who'd gathered to see what was going on faded from my field of vision as I passed out.
I awoke hours later, in almost the exact same position I'd been in before losing consciousness. Almost as if someone had tried to move me but gave up and walked away. Looking around at the hallway, two things immediately struck me as strange, the alarms that had been blaring were still going, and there wasn't another person within sight.
Getting to my feet, I shambled back to the dorms hoping to find out what was going on, and to take a shower to wash off whatever chemicals I'd been marinating in.
The usually boisterous atmosphere of the senior wing's lobby was eerily quiet and the few people who were present didn't even seem to acknowledge my presence. Taking a moment to try to talk to each of them was a wasted effort and I assumed they had all already heard what had happened and decided to ignore me for some reason.
A TV left running in the common room was blaring a sci-fi movie from what I could make out, something about a killer plague and a mass evacuation. Deciding to skip the flick I sullenly walked toward the elevator and pressed the up button.
“Probably a stupid SyFy piece of crap anyway.” I said to myself waiting for the doors to open.
Later sitting on the edge of my bed, I noticed the fact that Taylor, my roommate was nowhere to be found. This was odd because he had spent the better part of the week annoying me into dragging him home with me. He'd finally managed to win me over by repeatedly waking me in the morning with an air-horn and threatening to do so for the rest of the year unless I took him with me.
Taking a moment to jot down a note for him, I mentioned that I had waited for a whole hour for him to show up, and couldn't delay a minute longer. Grabbing the small gym-bag with my clothes for the trip I pinned the note to our door, and locked the room, hoping Taylor wasn't drunk enough to forget his key, or else he'd be spending a long weekend locked out.
The drive back home was pretty uneventful, and once I got within a few miles of my folks house I decided to pay a quick visit to a few friends before I stopped home.
The guys hadn't changed much, and after a few quick beers and a half hour or so of catching up, we made plans to hang out the next night, maybe watch a movie, or something.
My Mom almost crushed me to death with a bear hug the second I was through the door, and Pop, well a handshake and a quick “How's things?” was about the best I could expect.
I hadn't been home less than an hour and already it felt like I'd never left.
“Where's the runt?” I asked Mom as I set down my bag, looking around for my younger brother Zach.
“Jake it's 10:45 at night, he's sleeping.” she said pointing out the obvious.
“Are you hungry, or did you eat on the drive home?” she asked dragging me by the hand to the kitchen not waiting for me to answer.
“I thought you were bringing a friend? You called and said something about that, I'm sure of it.” she said stopping to look at me before stepping behind the counter and scooping the guts out of a partially carved Jack O' Lantern.
“Yeah Mom, he couldn't make it, he came down with something. Sick as a dog.” I said lying to her face.
But knowing the truth wouldn't have set any better with her. Knowing my Mom, she'd have made me wait until Taylor showed up even if I missed out on the entire winter break.
Watching her pull seeds and pumpkin goo out of the incomplete Jack O' Lantern I was distracted just enough to not notice the odd sensation of something moving up the back of my leg until the last second.
Turning with a quick jerk I saw a miniature version of “Dr. Manhattan” running a hand up my leg like it was a spider.
“Boo!” He shrieked, smiling with a few more missing teeth than the last time I'd seen him.
“Zachster!” I shouted reaching down to scoop him up, before he could get away.
He laughed as I “flew” him around the room a few times before plopping him down on the counter next to Mom, and her Halloween handiwork.
“What are you still doing up, brat?” I asked tweaking his nose playfully as I looked at Mom, who was standing there smiling.
“Mom said if I was quiet, I could surprise you.” he said picking at the mess of seeds and pumpkin innards.
“Well mission accomplished, my good doctor.” I said complimenting his costume.
With a quick leap off the counter he bounded up the stairs, as fast as he could without another word.
“Isn't he gonna get awfully cold in that?” I asked my Mom, once he was out of earshot.
“Oh no, not nearly as bad as he was gonna be if he'd had his way.” she said smiling as she picked up the candle and placed it inside the now finished Jack O' Lantern.
Motioning for me to pick it up, she walked to the front porch and pointed out where she wanted it.
“What do you mean?” I asked her, already pretty sure of the answer.
Mom handed the long-tipped lighter as she pulled the top of the pumpkin.
“Well Zach had wanted to go as the “Authentic” Doctor Manhattan. Your father nearly had a coronary when Zach walked out of his bedroom pained blue from head to toe and as naked as the day he was born.” she said chuckling at the memory.
“This costume is a compromise, blue makeup and a pair black undies was as far as your father was willing to go. Besides it's Halloween, what's the worst that could happen?” she said giving my arm a quick reassuring slap.
I smiled as I stood in the slightly chilly October air, watching the amber glow of the candle flicker in the darkness.
It felt so good to be home.
The next morning I awoke with the king of all hangovers and morning breath that could kill an elephant. I hadn't really remembered drinking that much the night before, just a few beers with the guys, but the little men pounding pickaxes in my head tended to disagree.
Stumbling down the hall for some aspirin and a quick piss, I was struck by something odd. The usual sounds and smells of home were completely gone.
Our house wasn't a three-ring circus, but the normal amount of people milling about or getting ready for the day were completely absent.
Adding in the aroma of Mom's famous apple pancakes was missing too, I began to get a little unsettled. She always made that for the first morning when I was home.
Skipping the trip to the bathroom, I walked downstairs to find no one there, and more strangely the mess from the pumpkin carving the night before hadn't even been touched. While Mom may have quick stepped out to get something and taken Zach along, she'd have cut off an arm before not cleaning up a mess. It just wasn't in her, she was too much of a mom.
I picked up the cordless phone in the kitchen, thinking maybe I'd call Mrs. Schaeffer next door to see if she had any idea where my mom and brother were, but the dead line screwed that plan.
On an impulse I decide to check the garage, to see if Mom's car was there, and that's when I saw them. Mom was sitting behind the wheel of her car, her face totally relaxed and laying against the driver's side window, and once I got close enough to see him, Zach strapped into his car seat with his head lolled over to the side, as if they were both sleeping.
But as I stood there in the doorway, I knew that wasn't the case. I couldn't see their chests rising and falling, neither of them were breathing. In a moment of irrational panic I thought that maybe Mom had accidentally let the engine running and forgotten to open the garage door.
So that's exactly what I did.
I pressed the door clicker and walked numbly over to the passenger side, afraid of confirming what I already knew. They were both dead, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Sitting next to the lifeless body of my mother I pressed the back of my hand to her cheek and felt the ice cold skin. Waiting hoping this was all some terror dream, I held two fingers across her throat hunting desperately for any trace of a pulse, but knew it wouldn't be found.
And that's where I was when it happened, when I found out what I'd done to doom everyone I'd ever touch again. The sound of a low-flying plane managed to snap me out of the blankly staring at my family, and the announcement repeatedly playing over it's PA system brought me forcefully back to reality.
“ALL CITIZENS ARE TO REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BY ORDER OF MARSHAL LAW. FURTHER NEWS WILL BE BROADCAST ON CHANNELS 2, 5, 12, AND 16. ALL CITIZENS ARE TO REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BY ORDER OF MARSHAL.....” droned the mechanical sounding voice as it flew back and forth past my neighborhood.
Running inside, I flipped on the TV, first to channel 2, catching the usually bubbly host mid-sentence as she was reading from a prepared statement.
“and the public is being urged to remain indoors until further notice by order of marshal law. To recap, a terrible and highly virulent plague seems to be cutting a swath across our state, and shows no sign of slowing. Reports of multiple deaths all originating at State University, and spreading to various point across the country have left our nation in crisis.” she said letting the impact of the words she was reading off the TelePrompTer finally hit her.
Switching to channel 5 wasn't much better, but at least all they just had was a news crawl at the bottom of the screen and a map of the infection's spread.
Looking at the various lines and dots constantly being updated on the map made me have a sick moment of realization. The sickness had begun at State University, my school, and the path that the majority of the illness had followed more or less mirrored the exact route I had taken home.
And that's when I thought back to what had kicked off the holiday break, the lab fire.
It was all my fault, everything that was happening had begun with me. Everyone I had touched or come into contact since was either dead or dying. And there was nothing I could do about it.
A sound out in the garage drew my attention away from my guilt if only for a second.
“If there's anyone out there, stay back I'm infected.” I shouted hoping to keep whoever it was at bay.
But when I saw my Mom and Zach walk into the living room I nearly fainted.
Trying to get to my feet was harder than I thought as I rushed to hug them, happy at the though that they were alive, that somehow I'd been wrong.
Maybe I'd dreamed it all.
But the second I touched them, I knew. The cold dead skin touching mine was proof enough it wasn't a dream, more like a waking nightmare. Every ounce of strength left my legs and I collapsed on the sofa, utterly defeated.
That old saying about truth being stranger than fiction? Totally true.
You try being comforted by the corpses of your family as you mentally breakdown. I challenge anyone to stay completely sane in a situation that surreal.
That was a few days ago...
I've spent the last couple of days preparing for Halloween. It was my favorite holiday after all. Mom isn't much help, but I think I have everything pretty much set up good enough to make her happy.
I found dad the second day, he'd died on the way to work, and his car had flipped halfway down the block, the driver's wheel had pinned him in his seat. It wasn't easy getting as much of him as I could out, but I think he'd be proud of my efforts.
Since pretty much everyone in my neighborhood had died over the course of the week, I had the run of the entire town, carte blanche as it were.
And I'd need it for the next part of my plans.
The National Guard armory had been left with only a skeleton crew, and in a few weeks time, I imagined that's all that would be left of them. Walking right past them I gathered what I'd need and strolled right back out.
At first the fact that the “zombies” let me alone bothered me. But as time passed I quickly got used to it. Maybe they saw me as “King Zombie” or something. I couldn't care less. As I drove Mom's car home packed down with provisions for tonight's celebration, I knew all I'd need was one more thing, and everything would be perfect.
Standing outside McCrory's Funeral home with Zach in tow, I wondered for a brief second if perhaps the unreality of the situation had driven me insane.
But then Mr. McCrory came to the back door with three small garbage bags and a look of disgust on his face.
“This is the last time I'm doing this.” he said setting the bags at my feet.
Reaching down to grab the bags I smiled as I returned that train of thought.
“Picking up brains for my zombie family to eat, sanest thing in the world.” I said to myself laughing as I reached down and took Zach's lifeless hand in mine.
He tried to laugh too, but found it quite impossible. I think that broke my heart the most as I led him home.
Seated around the dinning table, we almost looked like a normal family eating dinner. If you ignored the rotting corpses and the heaping plates of brain.
Well..brains for them, and Hamburger Helper for me. I was an adventurous eater, but not that adventurous.
Once everyone had began to eat I pressed the plunger down on the timer, and in exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds it'd all be over.
I had thought wiring up 100 lbs of C-4 would have been much harder, but it comes with instructions right on the side. Kinda convent really.
Honestly I had more problems hooking up my stereo system freshman year.
Taking a mouthful of food I looked around at my family as they devoured the brains on their plate. I never even realized what was happening as one by one their heads exploded in a spray of dead flesh and gore.
A bright light shone in my eyes blinding me right before a high pitched whine and a sharp pain in my head knocked me to the floor. Laying to the side of my chair a pool of blood forming beside me, I could do nothing as the men dressed in army fatigues rushed into my house, guns drawn.
“Dammit Perkins, you only winged that last one! Take better aim next time, you remember what happened to Smith when he missed a “Stinky”, don't you?” said the man standing at the bottom step in the living room.
As I moved to stand up he pulled his sidearm and fired twice, hitting me in the chest both times. A searing pain made me choke on the mouthful of food as I lay dying on the floor.
“Now go and clean that up.” he said to Perkins as he and the other men swept the house looking for more of the walking dead.
I'll hand it to Perkins, he was pretty sharp, he saw right away that I was bleeding and put two and two together. Too bad he never noticed the timer, or the C-4 I was weakly pointing at until he turned to alert the others.
5
4
3
2
1
“Oh Shi---
“Last Hallows Eve”
Zach's toothless smile began to creep me out as we stood outside the back entrance to the funeral home. His cheery demeanor didn't lessen the impact of why we were there, and despite every rationalization I could think of, I knew it was all my fault.
Watching my breath fog the air between us, I thought back to how this all started less than a week ago, back before I'd brought the world and everyone on it to the brink of extinction.
I'd been looking forward to the Fall break and the trip home during my favorite holiday since August. Closing up the lab had been a last minute pain in the ass rush-job that professor Martin had foisted on me without any warning.
She was out the door before I had a chance to ask her if she would get someone else to do it, but I figured if I got it over with quick enough, it wouldn't delay me by too much. Oh to have that day to do over again....
I walked down the crowded rows of lab equipment ensuring everything was properly stowed and secured for the short break in studies. Checking off each item on a clipboard, I double checked to make sure everything that was supposed to be turned off was off, and that any experiment that had been left running wouldn't be a danger if left unattended.
I hadn't been watching where I was walking when it happened.
My left hand barely brushed a beaker full of some noxious fluid, knocking it over and spraying the fluid across the counter right into the path of a Bunsen burner I'd yet to turn off. The brilliant flash of light and heat as the chemical ignited threw me back into a terrarium full of Brazilian moss cultures and set the entire south wall of the lab aflame. In less than a few seconds I found myself struggling to find a way out through the blinding and choking plumes of smoke and fire.
Already disoriented by the scene of carnage I'd manged to create, I wasn't helped when the lab's special fire suppression system went off dousing the room in a fine mist of halon and fire retardant foam, all the while high pitched peals of the fire alarm rang in my ears.
Completely unsure of where I was in relation to the main exit, I decided against feeling my way through the shambles of the lab. Quickly praying to God that I wouldn't die, I made my way through the lab, occasionally bumping into a desk or piece of equipment. It wasn't until I hit something large and metallic that I knew for sure where I was. The central wash station at the front of the room, only thirty-five steps from here to the door, I realized quickly becoming enervated by this minor bit of good fortune.
Once I'd managed to reach the door I hurriedly pushed my way out and into the hallway for my first lungful of fresh air since the accident. The rush of escaping death and finally being able to breathe made me a little light headed and as I slid down the wall landing on my ass, the growing crowd of people who'd gathered to see what was going on faded from my field of vision as I passed out.
I awoke hours later, in almost the exact same position I'd been in before losing consciousness. Almost as if someone had tried to move me but gave up and walked away. Looking around at the hallway, two things immediately struck me as strange, the alarms that had been blaring were still going, and there wasn't another person within sight.
Getting to my feet, I shambled back to the dorms hoping to find out what was going on, and to take a shower to wash off whatever chemicals I'd been marinating in.
The usually boisterous atmosphere of the senior wing's lobby was eerily quiet and the few people who were present didn't even seem to acknowledge my presence. Taking a moment to try to talk to each of them was a wasted effort and I assumed they had all already heard what had happened and decided to ignore me for some reason.
A TV left running in the common room was blaring a sci-fi movie from what I could make out, something about a killer plague and a mass evacuation. Deciding to skip the flick I sullenly walked toward the elevator and pressed the up button.
“Probably a stupid SyFy piece of crap anyway.” I said to myself waiting for the doors to open.
Later sitting on the edge of my bed, I noticed the fact that Taylor, my roommate was nowhere to be found. This was odd because he had spent the better part of the week annoying me into dragging him home with me. He'd finally managed to win me over by repeatedly waking me in the morning with an air-horn and threatening to do so for the rest of the year unless I took him with me.
Taking a moment to jot down a note for him, I mentioned that I had waited for a whole hour for him to show up, and couldn't delay a minute longer. Grabbing the small gym-bag with my clothes for the trip I pinned the note to our door, and locked the room, hoping Taylor wasn't drunk enough to forget his key, or else he'd be spending a long weekend locked out.
The drive back home was pretty uneventful, and once I got within a few miles of my folks house I decided to pay a quick visit to a few friends before I stopped home.
The guys hadn't changed much, and after a few quick beers and a half hour or so of catching up, we made plans to hang out the next night, maybe watch a movie, or something.
My Mom almost crushed me to death with a bear hug the second I was through the door, and Pop, well a handshake and a quick “How's things?” was about the best I could expect.
I hadn't been home less than an hour and already it felt like I'd never left.
“Where's the runt?” I asked Mom as I set down my bag, looking around for my younger brother Zach.
“Jake it's 10:45 at night, he's sleeping.” she said pointing out the obvious.
“Are you hungry, or did you eat on the drive home?” she asked dragging me by the hand to the kitchen not waiting for me to answer.
“I thought you were bringing a friend? You called and said something about that, I'm sure of it.” she said stopping to look at me before stepping behind the counter and scooping the guts out of a partially carved Jack O' Lantern.
“Yeah Mom, he couldn't make it, he came down with something. Sick as a dog.” I said lying to her face.
But knowing the truth wouldn't have set any better with her. Knowing my Mom, she'd have made me wait until Taylor showed up even if I missed out on the entire winter break.
Watching her pull seeds and pumpkin goo out of the incomplete Jack O' Lantern I was distracted just enough to not notice the odd sensation of something moving up the back of my leg until the last second.
Turning with a quick jerk I saw a miniature version of “Dr. Manhattan” running a hand up my leg like it was a spider.
“Boo!” He shrieked, smiling with a few more missing teeth than the last time I'd seen him.
“Zachster!” I shouted reaching down to scoop him up, before he could get away.
He laughed as I “flew” him around the room a few times before plopping him down on the counter next to Mom, and her Halloween handiwork.
“What are you still doing up, brat?” I asked tweaking his nose playfully as I looked at Mom, who was standing there smiling.
“Mom said if I was quiet, I could surprise you.” he said picking at the mess of seeds and pumpkin innards.
“Well mission accomplished, my good doctor.” I said complimenting his costume.
With a quick leap off the counter he bounded up the stairs, as fast as he could without another word.
“Isn't he gonna get awfully cold in that?” I asked my Mom, once he was out of earshot.
“Oh no, not nearly as bad as he was gonna be if he'd had his way.” she said smiling as she picked up the candle and placed it inside the now finished Jack O' Lantern.
Motioning for me to pick it up, she walked to the front porch and pointed out where she wanted it.
“What do you mean?” I asked her, already pretty sure of the answer.
Mom handed the long-tipped lighter as she pulled the top of the pumpkin.
“Well Zach had wanted to go as the “Authentic” Doctor Manhattan. Your father nearly had a coronary when Zach walked out of his bedroom pained blue from head to toe and as naked as the day he was born.” she said chuckling at the memory.
“This costume is a compromise, blue makeup and a pair black undies was as far as your father was willing to go. Besides it's Halloween, what's the worst that could happen?” she said giving my arm a quick reassuring slap.
I smiled as I stood in the slightly chilly October air, watching the amber glow of the candle flicker in the darkness.
It felt so good to be home.
The next morning I awoke with the king of all hangovers and morning breath that could kill an elephant. I hadn't really remembered drinking that much the night before, just a few beers with the guys, but the little men pounding pickaxes in my head tended to disagree.
Stumbling down the hall for some aspirin and a quick piss, I was struck by something odd. The usual sounds and smells of home were completely gone.
Our house wasn't a three-ring circus, but the normal amount of people milling about or getting ready for the day were completely absent.
Adding in the aroma of Mom's famous apple pancakes was missing too, I began to get a little unsettled. She always made that for the first morning when I was home.
Skipping the trip to the bathroom, I walked downstairs to find no one there, and more strangely the mess from the pumpkin carving the night before hadn't even been touched. While Mom may have quick stepped out to get something and taken Zach along, she'd have cut off an arm before not cleaning up a mess. It just wasn't in her, she was too much of a mom.
I picked up the cordless phone in the kitchen, thinking maybe I'd call Mrs. Schaeffer next door to see if she had any idea where my mom and brother were, but the dead line screwed that plan.
On an impulse I decide to check the garage, to see if Mom's car was there, and that's when I saw them. Mom was sitting behind the wheel of her car, her face totally relaxed and laying against the driver's side window, and once I got close enough to see him, Zach strapped into his car seat with his head lolled over to the side, as if they were both sleeping.
But as I stood there in the doorway, I knew that wasn't the case. I couldn't see their chests rising and falling, neither of them were breathing. In a moment of irrational panic I thought that maybe Mom had accidentally let the engine running and forgotten to open the garage door.
So that's exactly what I did.
I pressed the door clicker and walked numbly over to the passenger side, afraid of confirming what I already knew. They were both dead, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
Sitting next to the lifeless body of my mother I pressed the back of my hand to her cheek and felt the ice cold skin. Waiting hoping this was all some terror dream, I held two fingers across her throat hunting desperately for any trace of a pulse, but knew it wouldn't be found.
And that's where I was when it happened, when I found out what I'd done to doom everyone I'd ever touch again. The sound of a low-flying plane managed to snap me out of the blankly staring at my family, and the announcement repeatedly playing over it's PA system brought me forcefully back to reality.
“ALL CITIZENS ARE TO REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BY ORDER OF MARSHAL LAW. FURTHER NEWS WILL BE BROADCAST ON CHANNELS 2, 5, 12, AND 16. ALL CITIZENS ARE TO REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BY ORDER OF MARSHAL.....” droned the mechanical sounding voice as it flew back and forth past my neighborhood.
Running inside, I flipped on the TV, first to channel 2, catching the usually bubbly host mid-sentence as she was reading from a prepared statement.
“and the public is being urged to remain indoors until further notice by order of marshal law. To recap, a terrible and highly virulent plague seems to be cutting a swath across our state, and shows no sign of slowing. Reports of multiple deaths all originating at State University, and spreading to various point across the country have left our nation in crisis.” she said letting the impact of the words she was reading off the TelePrompTer finally hit her.
Switching to channel 5 wasn't much better, but at least all they just had was a news crawl at the bottom of the screen and a map of the infection's spread.
Looking at the various lines and dots constantly being updated on the map made me have a sick moment of realization. The sickness had begun at State University, my school, and the path that the majority of the illness had followed more or less mirrored the exact route I had taken home.
And that's when I thought back to what had kicked off the holiday break, the lab fire.
It was all my fault, everything that was happening had begun with me. Everyone I had touched or come into contact since was either dead or dying. And there was nothing I could do about it.
A sound out in the garage drew my attention away from my guilt if only for a second.
“If there's anyone out there, stay back I'm infected.” I shouted hoping to keep whoever it was at bay.
But when I saw my Mom and Zach walk into the living room I nearly fainted.
Trying to get to my feet was harder than I thought as I rushed to hug them, happy at the though that they were alive, that somehow I'd been wrong.
Maybe I'd dreamed it all.
But the second I touched them, I knew. The cold dead skin touching mine was proof enough it wasn't a dream, more like a waking nightmare. Every ounce of strength left my legs and I collapsed on the sofa, utterly defeated.
That old saying about truth being stranger than fiction? Totally true.
You try being comforted by the corpses of your family as you mentally breakdown. I challenge anyone to stay completely sane in a situation that surreal.
That was a few days ago...
I've spent the last couple of days preparing for Halloween. It was my favorite holiday after all. Mom isn't much help, but I think I have everything pretty much set up good enough to make her happy.
I found dad the second day, he'd died on the way to work, and his car had flipped halfway down the block, the driver's wheel had pinned him in his seat. It wasn't easy getting as much of him as I could out, but I think he'd be proud of my efforts.
Since pretty much everyone in my neighborhood had died over the course of the week, I had the run of the entire town, carte blanche as it were.
And I'd need it for the next part of my plans.
The National Guard armory had been left with only a skeleton crew, and in a few weeks time, I imagined that's all that would be left of them. Walking right past them I gathered what I'd need and strolled right back out.
At first the fact that the “zombies” let me alone bothered me. But as time passed I quickly got used to it. Maybe they saw me as “King Zombie” or something. I couldn't care less. As I drove Mom's car home packed down with provisions for tonight's celebration, I knew all I'd need was one more thing, and everything would be perfect.
Standing outside McCrory's Funeral home with Zach in tow, I wondered for a brief second if perhaps the unreality of the situation had driven me insane.
But then Mr. McCrory came to the back door with three small garbage bags and a look of disgust on his face.
“This is the last time I'm doing this.” he said setting the bags at my feet.
Reaching down to grab the bags I smiled as I returned that train of thought.
“Picking up brains for my zombie family to eat, sanest thing in the world.” I said to myself laughing as I reached down and took Zach's lifeless hand in mine.
He tried to laugh too, but found it quite impossible. I think that broke my heart the most as I led him home.
Seated around the dinning table, we almost looked like a normal family eating dinner. If you ignored the rotting corpses and the heaping plates of brain.
Well..brains for them, and Hamburger Helper for me. I was an adventurous eater, but not that adventurous.
Once everyone had began to eat I pressed the plunger down on the timer, and in exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds it'd all be over.
I had thought wiring up 100 lbs of C-4 would have been much harder, but it comes with instructions right on the side. Kinda convent really.
Honestly I had more problems hooking up my stereo system freshman year.
Taking a mouthful of food I looked around at my family as they devoured the brains on their plate. I never even realized what was happening as one by one their heads exploded in a spray of dead flesh and gore.
A bright light shone in my eyes blinding me right before a high pitched whine and a sharp pain in my head knocked me to the floor. Laying to the side of my chair a pool of blood forming beside me, I could do nothing as the men dressed in army fatigues rushed into my house, guns drawn.
“Dammit Perkins, you only winged that last one! Take better aim next time, you remember what happened to Smith when he missed a “Stinky”, don't you?” said the man standing at the bottom step in the living room.
As I moved to stand up he pulled his sidearm and fired twice, hitting me in the chest both times. A searing pain made me choke on the mouthful of food as I lay dying on the floor.
“Now go and clean that up.” he said to Perkins as he and the other men swept the house looking for more of the walking dead.
I'll hand it to Perkins, he was pretty sharp, he saw right away that I was bleeding and put two and two together. Too bad he never noticed the timer, or the C-4 I was weakly pointing at until he turned to alert the others.
5
4
3
2
1
“Oh Shi---
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Friday Challenge Entry #4
For the Friday Challenge.
"The message"
To: CarlHansen@Neximrobotics.com
From: JMHall@WMA.org
Re: Latest dig. You have to see this!
Carl,
I'm sending this to you because you're the only man I'd trust not to immediately think that I'm crazy.
During a recent archeological dig in Mexico an extremely curious object was found. An object that had no earthly reason to be buried among the remnants of a 1918 campsite, purportedly one where Pancho Villa had stayed for an extended period.
I'm sending you copies of both the original documents, and photos, as well as the translated and digitally enhanced versions.
Sincerely,
James Mathieu Hall; Phd
Archeological Director, Westermann Museum Albuquerque, NM
ATTACHED DOCUMENT: DIGINFO.PDF
Carl opened the document and saw what appeared to be a diary entry. The handwriting was shaky and barely legible, so he scrolled down to the next page and saw a cleaned up and thankfully translated version of the same page.
Day 38: Experiment a complete failure. Minor cascade reactions in my central neural net have slowed my ability to move, and are impairing some motor functions. I've spent the better part of a month acclimating myself to this odd era, and the humans who've welcomed me into their society.
They have been most helpful in repairing most of the external damage to my outer housing. But any queries I have of replacement parts seem to be beyond them. When I asked repeatedly for an oscillating wave-form projector they looked at me strangely and walked away.
Carl laughed and thought about sending a reply to John, he'd nearly forgotten how wicked a sense of humor the man had. But something in the text he'd just read had caught his eye.
Oscilating wave-form projector.
The phrase was something well out of John's wheelhouse, and it'd be easy for him to look up the term on any online tech site, but for the fact the term hadn't even existed up until two days ago. Other than himself and a few technicians, Carl knew no one else even knew of its existence.
But then how did John manage to work it into this weird prank, he thought to himself as he scrolled down to the next page.
Day 51: Have met an odd human. He is under the impression I am not of this Earth, and despite my many protestations (in his native tongue) has managed to conscript me into his personal army.
I fear this may be the last entry in this journal, and have managed to find a hiding spot where it and the other material enclosed will remain undisturbed for well over a century. My hope is that this will be found before my creator performs his “grand experiment”, and I am somehow not flung back in time.
Carl wondered what the brief entry meant by “grand experiment, but decided to scroll to the last page in the PDF.
What he saw at first made no sense. A formation of several men dressed in clothes of Mexican peasants, but standing alongside of them, a robot.
A robot that seemed eerily familiar, he thought as he quickly moved to his drafting table and pulled up the schematics of prototype #318, his latest breakthrough.
As he stared, moving his eyes between the two images, a thought occurred to him. “Look for it”, knowing the entire time it'd be there.
Opening up a copy of the picture in the company's high-end image editor, Carl zoomed in on the odd photo, and hidden on the lower quadrant of the robot's head was exactly what he expected to see, something only he knew to look for.
Etched in micro-printing were the words “CarlHansen@Neximrobotics.com”
"The message"
To: CarlHansen@Neximrobotics.com
From: JMHall@WMA.org
Re: Latest dig. You have to see this!
Carl,
I'm sending this to you because you're the only man I'd trust not to immediately think that I'm crazy.
During a recent archeological dig in Mexico an extremely curious object was found. An object that had no earthly reason to be buried among the remnants of a 1918 campsite, purportedly one where Pancho Villa had stayed for an extended period.
I'm sending you copies of both the original documents, and photos, as well as the translated and digitally enhanced versions.
Sincerely,
James Mathieu Hall; Phd
Archeological Director, Westermann Museum Albuquerque, NM
ATTACHED DOCUMENT: DIGINFO.PDF
Carl opened the document and saw what appeared to be a diary entry. The handwriting was shaky and barely legible, so he scrolled down to the next page and saw a cleaned up and thankfully translated version of the same page.
Day 38: Experiment a complete failure. Minor cascade reactions in my central neural net have slowed my ability to move, and are impairing some motor functions. I've spent the better part of a month acclimating myself to this odd era, and the humans who've welcomed me into their society.
They have been most helpful in repairing most of the external damage to my outer housing. But any queries I have of replacement parts seem to be beyond them. When I asked repeatedly for an oscillating wave-form projector they looked at me strangely and walked away.
Carl laughed and thought about sending a reply to John, he'd nearly forgotten how wicked a sense of humor the man had. But something in the text he'd just read had caught his eye.
Oscilating wave-form projector.
The phrase was something well out of John's wheelhouse, and it'd be easy for him to look up the term on any online tech site, but for the fact the term hadn't even existed up until two days ago. Other than himself and a few technicians, Carl knew no one else even knew of its existence.
But then how did John manage to work it into this weird prank, he thought to himself as he scrolled down to the next page.
Day 51: Have met an odd human. He is under the impression I am not of this Earth, and despite my many protestations (in his native tongue) has managed to conscript me into his personal army.
I fear this may be the last entry in this journal, and have managed to find a hiding spot where it and the other material enclosed will remain undisturbed for well over a century. My hope is that this will be found before my creator performs his “grand experiment”, and I am somehow not flung back in time.
Carl wondered what the brief entry meant by “grand experiment, but decided to scroll to the last page in the PDF.
What he saw at first made no sense. A formation of several men dressed in clothes of Mexican peasants, but standing alongside of them, a robot.
A robot that seemed eerily familiar, he thought as he quickly moved to his drafting table and pulled up the schematics of prototype #318, his latest breakthrough.
As he stared, moving his eyes between the two images, a thought occurred to him. “Look for it”, knowing the entire time it'd be there.
Opening up a copy of the picture in the company's high-end image editor, Carl zoomed in on the odd photo, and hidden on the lower quadrant of the robot's head was exactly what he expected to see, something only he knew to look for.
Etched in micro-printing were the words “CarlHansen@Neximrobotics.com”
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Friday Challenge Entry #3
For the Friday Challenge
"Che cosa ha accaduto questa estate" or "What occurred this summer"
Miss Truglio assigned us all a report due on our return to school, telling her and the rest of our class what we did over the summer break. At first I thought it was a silly and childish thing to have to do. And I already had mine almost done a few days after we left school, figuring that nothing of any importance would happen anyway. That was just a few weeks ago, just before it all started. Proving me wrong in the worst possible way.
The invaders came during the night, their terrifying ships floating silently above the city.
My parents and my brother Marco were as scared as I was, but they made the mistake of leaving the house to inspect the spectacle they thought must be a sign from God.
Something in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise, and I was about to warn my parents and the the others in our neighborhood who'd also gone out to see. But before I could, a brilliant flash of light and heat came from the nearest ship, and they were all gone in an instant.
All that was left smoke and a patch scorch marks upon the earth where they had stood.
What looked as harmless as a ray of sunlight poking through the clouds had taken my entire family, and almost everyone else I knew before I could even blink. The warning that I had meant to voice had been all but forgotten as I ran back to my bedroom, and gathered what I would need once I'd gone into hiding. A few days worth of clothes, the knife my father had given me last year, and a small map of the area that I been making to keep busy over the summer break.
Running to the kitchen I grabbed a few loaves of bread my mother had made for the next day, and some other things I knew would keep well on my journey. I had made the decision only seconds after watching what the invaders were capable of, I would need to run for help. No weapons we had in the village were capable of defending us from them, but I suspected that maybe nearby garrison of soldiers did.
As I watched the invader's ships float away towards the center of the village, I pulled my pack of supplies closer to me, fingering the handle of the knife, readying myself for a confrontation in case I ran into any of their ground forces.
A foolish gesture, I know, but at the time it was more for confidence than anything else. Once the ships were a fair enough distance away, I slipped out of my home and made my way toward the garrison and what I hoped would be my village's salvation.
Fearing being seen by the invaders I had decided against carrying anything to light my way, depending instead on the moonlight and the growing fires their weapons were starting. I had made it to the crest of the pathway the led away from our village when I got a glimpse of one of them.
Standing high above me on the ridge overlooking the village was an invader. He was no bigger than any of the men in the village, but something about him seemed much more threatening.
He wore strange clothes that covered him from head to toe, all in black, cinched with a belt around his waist, loaded down with what I assumed to be more weapons.
It wasn't until he turned around and I caught a glimpse of his face that I knew how terrifying and different the invaders really were.
His face was a smooth blank sheet of black with one small green eye centered in the middle of his face.
As I watched him observe what was going on back in the village, I waited for him to leave, hoping I'd be able to make a run for the soldiers. But as the moon slowly traced its way across the sky, marking the hours passing he stood stone still. Carefully moving as not to make any sound, I walked back the way I had came, praying that none of the invaders had followed my path out of the village.
Realizing going back home would be pointless, I spent the rest of the night creeping around the village, making my way to the only place I could think to hide, the school. By the time I got there it was nearing dawn.
Any other day and I'd have only been getting up just now to the smells of food being cooked by mother, listening to the sound of her yelling at Marco for running around her and generally being in the way.
Walking into my classroom, these thoughts racing through my head I finally broke down and started crying at what I'd lost, and the fact that I may never survive long enough for anyone to know what has happened here.
That's when I started writing this. So that if the invaders do find me and kill me too there will be a record of this, that all who died will not be forgotten.
Fulvio DeRentis, age 10 brother of Marco, son of Silvio and Josette DeRentis, of Pompeii
August 24, 79 In the Year of Our Lord Jesus Christ
It had taken even less time than the leaders had assumed to take over the small country, thought the invader as he stood over the spot where the small boy had been huddled asleep only moments earlier.
The scent of ozone and charred carbon hung in the air long after the body had been vaporized. He'd hated to to kill children, having two of his own, but the orders were clear, no survivors.
Looking down at the scrap of paper the boy had been writing on when he'd caught him unaware, the invader wondered what the indecipherable scribblings meant, if anything. He debated taking it along with him back to the command post, but thought better of it in the end. The cleaning today and tomorrow would take care of any evidence of their arrival.
He had to hand it to the leaders, disguising an invasion with a series of natural disasters was brilliant. Too bad the next one wasn't scheduled to occur for another 1804 years. He'd counted on bringing his family with him to settle on this planet. But took solace in the fact that they'd be well taken care of from the work he was doing.
As he pulled the night vision glasses, and the environmental hood off his face, revealing not the the face of an alien, but a human being, he wondered to himself what kind of name was Earth for such a beautifully unspoiled planet?
He knew the inhabitants hadn't done any better naming his home world after a god of war, but to name a planet after the ground underfoot was just lazy.
He'd spend the walk back to the command post coming up with much better suggestions, he thought to himself as he watched the scientists setting up the cleansing devices in the mountain above the silent and now nearly empty village.
Any stragglers he and the others manged to miss would be taken care of by that, he thought smiling as he went back to coming up with much better names for this new world.
"Che cosa ha accaduto questa estate" or "What occurred this summer"
Miss Truglio assigned us all a report due on our return to school, telling her and the rest of our class what we did over the summer break. At first I thought it was a silly and childish thing to have to do. And I already had mine almost done a few days after we left school, figuring that nothing of any importance would happen anyway. That was just a few weeks ago, just before it all started. Proving me wrong in the worst possible way.
The invaders came during the night, their terrifying ships floating silently above the city.
My parents and my brother Marco were as scared as I was, but they made the mistake of leaving the house to inspect the spectacle they thought must be a sign from God.
Something in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise, and I was about to warn my parents and the the others in our neighborhood who'd also gone out to see. But before I could, a brilliant flash of light and heat came from the nearest ship, and they were all gone in an instant.
All that was left smoke and a patch scorch marks upon the earth where they had stood.
What looked as harmless as a ray of sunlight poking through the clouds had taken my entire family, and almost everyone else I knew before I could even blink. The warning that I had meant to voice had been all but forgotten as I ran back to my bedroom, and gathered what I would need once I'd gone into hiding. A few days worth of clothes, the knife my father had given me last year, and a small map of the area that I been making to keep busy over the summer break.
Running to the kitchen I grabbed a few loaves of bread my mother had made for the next day, and some other things I knew would keep well on my journey. I had made the decision only seconds after watching what the invaders were capable of, I would need to run for help. No weapons we had in the village were capable of defending us from them, but I suspected that maybe nearby garrison of soldiers did.
As I watched the invader's ships float away towards the center of the village, I pulled my pack of supplies closer to me, fingering the handle of the knife, readying myself for a confrontation in case I ran into any of their ground forces.
A foolish gesture, I know, but at the time it was more for confidence than anything else. Once the ships were a fair enough distance away, I slipped out of my home and made my way toward the garrison and what I hoped would be my village's salvation.
Fearing being seen by the invaders I had decided against carrying anything to light my way, depending instead on the moonlight and the growing fires their weapons were starting. I had made it to the crest of the pathway the led away from our village when I got a glimpse of one of them.
Standing high above me on the ridge overlooking the village was an invader. He was no bigger than any of the men in the village, but something about him seemed much more threatening.
He wore strange clothes that covered him from head to toe, all in black, cinched with a belt around his waist, loaded down with what I assumed to be more weapons.
It wasn't until he turned around and I caught a glimpse of his face that I knew how terrifying and different the invaders really were.
His face was a smooth blank sheet of black with one small green eye centered in the middle of his face.
As I watched him observe what was going on back in the village, I waited for him to leave, hoping I'd be able to make a run for the soldiers. But as the moon slowly traced its way across the sky, marking the hours passing he stood stone still. Carefully moving as not to make any sound, I walked back the way I had came, praying that none of the invaders had followed my path out of the village.
Realizing going back home would be pointless, I spent the rest of the night creeping around the village, making my way to the only place I could think to hide, the school. By the time I got there it was nearing dawn.
Any other day and I'd have only been getting up just now to the smells of food being cooked by mother, listening to the sound of her yelling at Marco for running around her and generally being in the way.
Walking into my classroom, these thoughts racing through my head I finally broke down and started crying at what I'd lost, and the fact that I may never survive long enough for anyone to know what has happened here.
That's when I started writing this. So that if the invaders do find me and kill me too there will be a record of this, that all who died will not be forgotten.
Fulvio DeRentis, age 10 brother of Marco, son of Silvio and Josette DeRentis, of Pompeii
August 24, 79 In the Year of Our Lord Jesus Christ
It had taken even less time than the leaders had assumed to take over the small country, thought the invader as he stood over the spot where the small boy had been huddled asleep only moments earlier.
The scent of ozone and charred carbon hung in the air long after the body had been vaporized. He'd hated to to kill children, having two of his own, but the orders were clear, no survivors.
Looking down at the scrap of paper the boy had been writing on when he'd caught him unaware, the invader wondered what the indecipherable scribblings meant, if anything. He debated taking it along with him back to the command post, but thought better of it in the end. The cleaning today and tomorrow would take care of any evidence of their arrival.
He had to hand it to the leaders, disguising an invasion with a series of natural disasters was brilliant. Too bad the next one wasn't scheduled to occur for another 1804 years. He'd counted on bringing his family with him to settle on this planet. But took solace in the fact that they'd be well taken care of from the work he was doing.
As he pulled the night vision glasses, and the environmental hood off his face, revealing not the the face of an alien, but a human being, he wondered to himself what kind of name was Earth for such a beautifully unspoiled planet?
He knew the inhabitants hadn't done any better naming his home world after a god of war, but to name a planet after the ground underfoot was just lazy.
He'd spend the walk back to the command post coming up with much better suggestions, he thought to himself as he watched the scientists setting up the cleansing devices in the mountain above the silent and now nearly empty village.
Any stragglers he and the others manged to miss would be taken care of by that, he thought smiling as he went back to coming up with much better names for this new world.
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