Science Fiction: robots, magic, ghosts, aliens, monsters...
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Here's a quick flash fiction (under 1300 words!)
Moon me By Stu Leventhal
Small clusters of different
species from assorted galaxies, gathered in front of the largest tent of a
makeshift camp, in a barren field, on a manufactured moon circling an infertile
planet at the outskirts of galaxy five. Gusts of fierce wind blew yellow pebble
dust. The assorted creatures closed their eyes, turned their backs and held
their head dressings on. When the wind died, they turned back to gaze at the
multi color flag blowing from its perch on top of a thirty-foot pole.
Bop, boop…boop boop…boooooooop…The long, twisting Donkey Dragon Horn blasted, announcing the arrival of the governmental precession.
Boom, Bop, Smash…The six armed Parapadis pounded the drums and cymbals using all six limbs. Bop, bop, dat, dat, dat, dat… The delegate’s climbed the ladder to take their seats on the large rock to the left of the flag that was acting as a stage.
The audience raised their paws, claws, hands, and tentacles, pressing them over their hearts in salute. A three-eyed, hairy Ticker Hog dressed in a floor length gown stood then walked to the microphone. His tail dragging behind him. “Welcome all.” His voice boomed
“Welcome.” The crowd replied in unison.
“First, I’d like to say congratulations to each of you.”
“Thank you Sir.” The crowd murmured.
“You should all be very proud of yourselves.” The crowd clapped or stomped their boots or hooves, as was the custom. “All of you have successfully completed the grueling, required 6 months program in the Nether Field. You’ve passed the written certification test, the two-hour, oral exam and have qualified with a score of higher than 95% on the weapons range. You are an exceptionally diverse group. One of the best sets of recruits we’ve ever had, complete our course. I’m very proud of each of you.”
“Yea!!!” The group applauded
“All that remains is for you to be sworn in, which will be handled by my colleague Senator Bumsfelt.
“Whoop!…Whoop!” Everyone clapped. The scaly Senator rose then headed to the microphone his antennas bending towards the crowd.
“Fellow Patriots.” The Senator exclaimed. “ You all are about to receive the highest honor our galaxy has to bestow. By pledging your allegiance to Kreperon and the Uno Federation you earn the right to wear the Red Infinity Tattoo which is recognized by every planet in the solar system and beyond. Wear the glowing ink proudly, display the crest when necessary and bring honor to the crest and yourselves always.”
15 years earlier:
Dicky Greenwood accompanied by 59 other Crosites, left the planet Orpharon in a Rocket freighter they’d adapted for space travel. After years and years of civil uprisings the entire planet Orpharon had finally irrupted in all out revolution. The Crosites hugely outnumbered by the Demeroms were soon facing genocide or a lifetime of slavery at best. The rocket freighter was their last attempt to continue their species freely and finally escape the grips of years and years of persecution. They had no plan or final destination picked. All they wanted was to get as far away from the treacherous Demeroms and their long, blood sucking fangs as possible.
Planet after planet, in galaxy after galaxy, scared of the Demeroms’ ruthless reputation for vengeance, turned the refugees away. Some planets would charitably shuttle the vagabonds some food and fuel, enough to get them to the next planet. But, no one would let them land. As they were about to exit galaxy five, the old freighter’s engines began to stall and leak fuel into the atmosphere. The pilots quickly turned the ship around then began sending distress signals. Construction crew workers building a manufactured moon, orbiting around the dead planet of Zelo answered their call for help.
The TKB Construction crew quickly went to work to prepare their landing spot for the anticipated crash landing of a 3000-ton freighter craft. To preserve their fuel, the Crosite pilots cut their engines and let the fake moons gravitational pull draw them closer and closer into the manufactured moon’s orbit. They used the last of their fuel up while still navigating the landing. Their craft missed the softened, makeshift, landing strip by kilometers, smashing into the much harder dense surface of an engineered crater made of solo composite, a derivative similar to earth iron. A third of the passengers were killed instantly everyone else was wounded to some degree.
The crash landing and subsequent rescue was broadcast headlines on inter galaxy news for weeks. The Demeroms were blasted for their cruel lack of compassion for exiling the Crosites. Inter galaxy sympathy abounded for the surviving 23 Crosites and they were all granted safe asylum in numerous of galaxy 5 communities.
After enduring months and months of the gruelling trip and crash landing, Dickie Greenwood understandably, acquired an acute case of space travel phobia. Just the thought of having to be cooped up again on a small vessel in outer space would cause Dickie to break out in hives. In order to be granted permission to stay on the moon, Dickie applied to the TBK, Construction Company as a laborer. Dick was hired on as a magnetics architect, which had been his field of expertise back on Orpharon. TBK Construction knowing the rarity and value of acquiring a good magnetics engineer, cheap, hired him instantly. For the next five years Dickie Greenwood worked on building the moon.
When the construction of the moon was completed, Dickie applied for work with the atmosphere department. He’s never left the moon in fifteen years and hasn’t gone near a space vehicle since. The thought of space travel still gives him hives.
Art Mckeller standing next to Dickie Greenwood tapped him on the shoulder with his tentacle. Dickie you’re my friend right?”
“Yes, of course Arthur.”
“Then tell me, if you’re so afraid of flying. Why in the world did you put yourself through that long grueling training to be sworn in as a XG knight. You have no intention of ever leaving this moon?”
“I love this moon. I helped build it. There’s everything here I need to live out the rest of my life happily. I don’t need to go gallivanting off seeking adventure.”
“So why become a knight?”
“As a Crosite, I had no rights. I could live here and work here but I could never own a crater on the moon I helped construct or on any other planet or moon in the 9 galaxies. I could not get a license for carrying a weapon like a fazor pistol.” He patted the firearm strapped to his left hip holster. “Or even get a permit to drive a hover scooter. I could not run for office nor vote. Now, I am not only an official citizen of Q-Moon with all the rights and privileges that go along with that I’m also an XGknight with all the respect and admiration that goes along with being a knight.”
“And, what’s wrong with our moon having an XG level, shining knight, who resides here on a permanent bases.” The Female Luka Lamb on the other side of Art Mckeller supported. “I think it’s wonderful and very comforting to the rest of us to know an XG will be here for us.” She batted her four eyelashes.
“Dickie’s presence will help keep everyone honest.” A heavyset, Long haired Gork agreed.
Dickie leaned close to his friend Arthur’s floppy left ear to whisper. “Plus one day I’m sure a Demerom or two is going to unwittingly land here.” He smiled then raised his voice back up. “So you my friend go out and explore with the full knowledge that someone’s back home minding the fort. He placed his hand on his fazor. “And, biding my time.” Dickie winked his single, large, sparkling, blue eye.
Bop, boop…boop boop…boooooooop…The long, twisting Donkey Dragon Horn blasted, announcing the arrival of the governmental precession.
Boom, Bop, Smash…The six armed Parapadis pounded the drums and cymbals using all six limbs. Bop, bop, dat, dat, dat, dat… The delegate’s climbed the ladder to take their seats on the large rock to the left of the flag that was acting as a stage.
The audience raised their paws, claws, hands, and tentacles, pressing them over their hearts in salute. A three-eyed, hairy Ticker Hog dressed in a floor length gown stood then walked to the microphone. His tail dragging behind him. “Welcome all.” His voice boomed
“Welcome.” The crowd replied in unison.
“First, I’d like to say congratulations to each of you.”
“Thank you Sir.” The crowd murmured.
“You should all be very proud of yourselves.” The crowd clapped or stomped their boots or hooves, as was the custom. “All of you have successfully completed the grueling, required 6 months program in the Nether Field. You’ve passed the written certification test, the two-hour, oral exam and have qualified with a score of higher than 95% on the weapons range. You are an exceptionally diverse group. One of the best sets of recruits we’ve ever had, complete our course. I’m very proud of each of you.”
“Yea!!!” The group applauded
“All that remains is for you to be sworn in, which will be handled by my colleague Senator Bumsfelt.
“Whoop!…Whoop!” Everyone clapped. The scaly Senator rose then headed to the microphone his antennas bending towards the crowd.
“Fellow Patriots.” The Senator exclaimed. “ You all are about to receive the highest honor our galaxy has to bestow. By pledging your allegiance to Kreperon and the Uno Federation you earn the right to wear the Red Infinity Tattoo which is recognized by every planet in the solar system and beyond. Wear the glowing ink proudly, display the crest when necessary and bring honor to the crest and yourselves always.”
15 years earlier:
Dicky Greenwood accompanied by 59 other Crosites, left the planet Orpharon in a Rocket freighter they’d adapted for space travel. After years and years of civil uprisings the entire planet Orpharon had finally irrupted in all out revolution. The Crosites hugely outnumbered by the Demeroms were soon facing genocide or a lifetime of slavery at best. The rocket freighter was their last attempt to continue their species freely and finally escape the grips of years and years of persecution. They had no plan or final destination picked. All they wanted was to get as far away from the treacherous Demeroms and their long, blood sucking fangs as possible.
Planet after planet, in galaxy after galaxy, scared of the Demeroms’ ruthless reputation for vengeance, turned the refugees away. Some planets would charitably shuttle the vagabonds some food and fuel, enough to get them to the next planet. But, no one would let them land. As they were about to exit galaxy five, the old freighter’s engines began to stall and leak fuel into the atmosphere. The pilots quickly turned the ship around then began sending distress signals. Construction crew workers building a manufactured moon, orbiting around the dead planet of Zelo answered their call for help.
The TKB Construction crew quickly went to work to prepare their landing spot for the anticipated crash landing of a 3000-ton freighter craft. To preserve their fuel, the Crosite pilots cut their engines and let the fake moons gravitational pull draw them closer and closer into the manufactured moon’s orbit. They used the last of their fuel up while still navigating the landing. Their craft missed the softened, makeshift, landing strip by kilometers, smashing into the much harder dense surface of an engineered crater made of solo composite, a derivative similar to earth iron. A third of the passengers were killed instantly everyone else was wounded to some degree.
The crash landing and subsequent rescue was broadcast headlines on inter galaxy news for weeks. The Demeroms were blasted for their cruel lack of compassion for exiling the Crosites. Inter galaxy sympathy abounded for the surviving 23 Crosites and they were all granted safe asylum in numerous of galaxy 5 communities.
After enduring months and months of the gruelling trip and crash landing, Dickie Greenwood understandably, acquired an acute case of space travel phobia. Just the thought of having to be cooped up again on a small vessel in outer space would cause Dickie to break out in hives. In order to be granted permission to stay on the moon, Dickie applied to the TBK, Construction Company as a laborer. Dick was hired on as a magnetics architect, which had been his field of expertise back on Orpharon. TBK Construction knowing the rarity and value of acquiring a good magnetics engineer, cheap, hired him instantly. For the next five years Dickie Greenwood worked on building the moon.
When the construction of the moon was completed, Dickie applied for work with the atmosphere department. He’s never left the moon in fifteen years and hasn’t gone near a space vehicle since. The thought of space travel still gives him hives.
Art Mckeller standing next to Dickie Greenwood tapped him on the shoulder with his tentacle. Dickie you’re my friend right?”
“Yes, of course Arthur.”
“Then tell me, if you’re so afraid of flying. Why in the world did you put yourself through that long grueling training to be sworn in as a XG knight. You have no intention of ever leaving this moon?”
“I love this moon. I helped build it. There’s everything here I need to live out the rest of my life happily. I don’t need to go gallivanting off seeking adventure.”
“So why become a knight?”
“As a Crosite, I had no rights. I could live here and work here but I could never own a crater on the moon I helped construct or on any other planet or moon in the 9 galaxies. I could not get a license for carrying a weapon like a fazor pistol.” He patted the firearm strapped to his left hip holster. “Or even get a permit to drive a hover scooter. I could not run for office nor vote. Now, I am not only an official citizen of Q-Moon with all the rights and privileges that go along with that I’m also an XGknight with all the respect and admiration that goes along with being a knight.”
“And, what’s wrong with our moon having an XG level, shining knight, who resides here on a permanent bases.” The Female Luka Lamb on the other side of Art Mckeller supported. “I think it’s wonderful and very comforting to the rest of us to know an XG will be here for us.” She batted her four eyelashes.
“Dickie’s presence will help keep everyone honest.” A heavyset, Long haired Gork agreed.
Dickie leaned close to his friend Arthur’s floppy left ear to whisper. “Plus one day I’m sure a Demerom or two is going to unwittingly land here.” He smiled then raised his voice back up. “So you my friend go out and explore with the full knowledge that someone’s back home minding the fort. He placed his hand on his fazor. “And, biding my time.” Dickie winked his single, large, sparkling, blue eye.
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Discovering Science Fiction
by Edward (Dictionary) Itor
by Edward (Dictionary) Itor
Imaginary futures, Space Adventure, scientific breakthroughs, new technologies, immortality, psychic phenomenon, prophecy, paranormal activities, telekinesis, mind control, zombies, werewolves, comic book heroes come to life, UFO’s, wizards, dragons…Welcome to Science Fiction where just about anything is possible.
Sometimes a writer has something important to say but, can’t find the right words or means to quite do the idea justice. Sometimes a writer could express his thought so much quicker and more concise if only he could manipulate the setting or give a few characters super or magical powers. The same story, set in our conventional world would take much longer to tell and thus the thought would lose some or all of its meaning. And then, sometimes an artist’s ideas are just bigger than the tangible world we live in. Luckily, there’s a literary genre of fiction that allows the writer to create the perfect world where he can express infinite, unique perceptions to his audience, Science Fiction.
Science Fiction tales have mass appeal, due to the entertainment value of the reader’s ability to be transferred, if just for a little while, to a magical place where all kinds of unconventional, sometimes fantastic things are possible. Aliens, rocket ships, super human powers, time travel, monsters, ghosts, robots, other worlds, future worlds, extra sensory perception; there are so many types of sci-fi stories and variations of styles it is no wonder that literary authorities have trouble agreeing on one universal definition to describe the whole genre of science fiction.
Science Fiction is one of those literary genres that encompasses a lot of other genres such as history, western, mystery or horror, frequently forming sub-genres like Historic Science Fiction, Space Westerns, Science Fiction Who Done Its and Sci-fi Horror. In addition, the literary world has also divided Science Fiction in half, labeling a writing either hard or soft Sci-fi mainly for marketing and categorizing purposes. Hard Science Fiction is when the author is supposed to play by all the known rules of the real sciences, mathematics and recent technological advances when he creates his future scenes, characters and fantasy gadgets. With Soft Science Fiction, the creative writer is allowed more leeway in speculating and dreaming up characters and magical worlds without giving any regards at all to making sure his settings fit in with known theories of physics, meta-physics or other known mathematical or scientific facts.
You say, you’ve been thinking about writing a science fiction story for a while but you are not sure how to get started. You’ve always read sci-fi and love when a good author takes you to a fictional alternative world or time zone where just about anything can happen and usually does. Everyone says you have a keen imagination. You are always coming up with new ideas and different ways of interpreting things. You imagine yourself solving problems in the world by coming up with all sorts of quirky inventions. At work or school you find yourself daydreaming about being somewhere else or becoming someone else. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re bored most of the time with your mundane life and wish things were more interesting.
On a star lit night, do you find yourself gazing up at the sparkles in the sky and wondering who is staring back at you? If only you could change the world to make it more exciting and life more enjoyable. Would you change your friends into super heroes, give them powers beyond the norm? Would you change your car into a flying saucer? Would you go forward in time a thousand years? Would you go all out and move to a whole different planet, galaxies away where everything was unique and quite different from our world here on earth. Then, you are half way, on your way to writing a science fiction story.
Science Fiction is the most popular and the most maligned of the entire contemporary literature genres. The quickly changing technological era we live in constantly challenges sci-fi’s authors to expand and revamp their beloved genre’s boundaries. Science fiction is not only about contemplating the possibilities of other worlds, alternative worlds, parallel worlds, future worlds and even the end of the world. Science fiction is much more diverse. By drawing upon and studying its diverse literacy history, who can understand where it’s coming from or where it’s going? But to truly understand science fiction, we must of course, at least, first try to put forth a definition of what science fiction is?
Science fiction has been called the field of literature that has been left between the gaps of the other fields of literature. Science fiction differs from other genre, not because of its general use of fantastic illustrations and fertile imaginations of its authors, but more so by the mere fact that science itself is made from a large number of domains; physics, metaphysics, astrology, mathematics, industrial advancements, new inventions and medical progress to name a few. On one side of sci-fi we have fantasy, the realm that seem impossible, but somehow, through the author’s vision it is made plausible. The other side of science fiction aligns itself with all the other forms of fiction be it past, present or future. Science fiction expresses man’s dream to explore different worlds, to create what is possible, what is doable, what we wish we could do and what we can eventually achieve. Can we live in space and communicate with other life on other planets? Is it possible? Science fiction makes it so.
Science fiction dates back to at least two thousand years. At present, Science fiction represents a body of literature, plus a graphic arts industry, movies, radio shows, comic books, TV serials, futuristic exhibits, video game machines, virtual reality, computer games and so forth and so on. There is constantly a new trend emerging. The planet is about four and a half billion years old. From the ice age with the discovery and use of fire, to the invention of the wheel, to flying jets, airliners and the explosion of the computer industry; we can see that technology is constantly and rapidly changing. The period of science and technology began with the Industrial Revolution and with that gave birth to scientific thinking and thus to speculative, scientific writing and the dreaming that fathered Today’s science fiction. Recently, the speed of technological changes has increased exponential. Modern consciousness therefore is radically different from that of the peoples who inhabited the planet before the emergence of the sciences and science fiction.
Science fiction, in its simplest form, has a very long and diverse prehistory. From early mythology, which speak of super humans, who battle one-eyed giants, a six-headed monster, a creature that swallows passing ships, a woman who transforms people into animals and another woman who turns men to stone with her gaze, to ideas of aliens and other heavenly bodies. Through the movement of science fiction, from the beginning to now, science fiction has been the mix matched offspring of enlightenment and idealization, which gave birth to Gothic Fiction. Gothic Fiction influenced not only Sci-Fi but the development of Horror novels, Crime stories, Westerns and Fantasy Literature. Science fiction progressed through a number of distinct periods, which are charted, citing hundreds of the most important works and authors, notable films and television series as well.
Science fiction has truly developed and boomed in the 20th century, from simple writing to great cinematic productions to fantastically visual and integrated videos and video games. The deeper penetration of science and inventions in society created an interest in literature that explored technology's influence on people and society and created the genre that transcends all prior genres, for Science Fiction fully brings man’s ideas of the future and the universe around full circle. Today, science fiction, thru its art, claims a significant influence on world culture and advanced thought. The genre continues expanding based on taking perceived, unattainable dreams and presenting them acceptably as plausibly attainable. Welcome to the literary genre that can certainly at times seem very, very silly while at other times produce some of the noblest works of art in all of literature…Science Fiction!
The Devil's Money by Stu Leventhal
The windshield wipers were icing up. Sam turned the defroster to high. It was snowing hard with big cotton, flakes. Three inches had already accumulated on the roads. The forecast was calling for fourteen inches total to fall over night. Sam glanced at his watch, 8:45 PM. He had fifteen minutes to make the meeting on time. Harvey had told him. “Be there, 9:00 PM sharp!” But a week ago when they’d scheduled, Harvey hadn’t planned on this storm. The meeting was important. Sam was going to present Harvey with a briefcase full of money, five hundred thousand dollars, the first installment of four cash payments.
Sam didn’t have the authority to call off or postpone a meeting of this magnitude and Sam knew in the eyes of Harvey and his associates, neither did Mother Nature. In fact, Sam didn’t even have a phone number where he could reach Harvey. Harvey always contacted Sam. “In case of an emergency, I’ll find you.” And he always did.
Sam turned the radio on. “The big news tonight is snow! Meteorologists are predicting anywhere from eight to sixteen inches by mid-morning. The roads are slick already so if you don’t absolutely have to be out driving, the State Police are recommending, stay home.”
“Great!” Sam clicked off the radio. He squinted peering at the headlights coming towards him. “Move the hell over buddy!” BEEP! Sam hit the horn. BEEP! BEEP! The truck swerved to the left. Sam jerked his steering wheel to the right. The car skidded just missing the tail end of the tractor-trailer. “Damn it! What the hell’s that guy doing out driving a big truck in a storm like this! What the hell am I doing out in this!”
Two sets of headlights came around the bend. BEEP! Sam hit the breaks. The car skidded sideways. He turned the wheel the other way trying to straighten it out but the car fishtailed back too far. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! He straightened the car out but had to pull all the way onto the other shoulder to get out of the way of the on coming traffic. As the two cars zoomed by, they splashed Sam’s windshield with piles of slush. “Damn!” The wipers were jammed. He pulled the car to a stop.
Sam climbed out then cleaned the slush off his windshield wipers with his bare hand. He climbed back in the driver’s seat then shifted into drive. The wheels just spun. “Oh no, I’m stuck!” He hit the gas pedal but the wheels just kept spinning. “Damn!” He pounded on the steering wheel. He stepped on the gas pedal again until he realized the back wheels were sliding farther off the shoulder of the road, towards the steep embankment. He shifted into park then climbed back out of the car. He walked around to the back. His back tires were sunk almost halfway down into the slush and snow. Using the side of his expensive wing tipped shoes, he scraped away the snow from in front of his two back tires. Then, he climbed back into the driver’s seat.
He eased the gearshift into fist gear then very lightly pressed the gas. The tires spun and the car skidded another few inches towards the embankment. “Damn!” He pounded on the steering wheel. “I’m stuck here for good, till next spring!” He pushed the button turning on the emergency flashers. “Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but wait till someone comes along and rescues me.” He turned the heater up then started to play around with the radio stations.
“With the storm clinging to the coast.” The newscaster announced. “Leechawanna County may end up with a lot more snow than originally predicted.”
“Oh great.” Sam glanced out the window. The snow was already coming down in bigger flakes. It had begun to cover the hood of the car. He rubbed his hands together in front of the warm heater vent then resolved himself to wait for the next car to come by.
Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, he waited but no cars. He began to worry. Hadn’t he heard that people died doing what he was doing right now, sitting in an idling car trying to stay warm? Somehow the exhaust fumes from the engine built up in the car asphyxiating them. He sniffed the air but didn’t smell anything unusual. Had he also heard that carbon dioxide was an odorless, colorless gas? Or, was that another poisonous gas? He wasn’t sure. But, if he turned off the car, he could freeze to death out here. His hands and feet were numb and the tips of his ears were tingling.
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an emergency message. The highway patrol has declared Leechawanna County in a state of weather emergency. Any cars driving on any state road will be ticketed except for emergency vehicles, police vehicles or vehicles belonging to the highway department.”
“Oh great! That’s why no cars have past me during the past twenty-five minutes. I have to get out of here.” He turned the car off then dropped the keys in his pants pocket. From under the front seat he pulled a 38 special revolver. Sam leaned forward then stuffed the pistol behind him, tucking it under his belt. Now came a decision. If he handcuffed the briefcase to his right wrist, anyone he met would have a heads up that he was carrying something valuable. If he didn’t use the cuffs, the ½ a million dollars would be a lot less secure. And he was about to walk out into a full blown, raging blizzard.
Sam reached for the briefcase on the seat beside him. He clicked one cuff to the briefcase handle. He fastened the other cuff to his right wrist. He grasped the handle, opened the door then stepped out into, almost one foot of snow. “Damn!”
He glanced up then down the snow, covered highway. “Well I don’t remember passing any shelter back that way. So, I’m going forwards.” He started walking.
After five minutes, he looked back over his shoulder but could no longer see the flashing hazard lights of his abandoned vehicle. “Damn it’s cold!” He pulled his left hand out of his pants pocket then raised his fingers to his face. He wiped away the layer of frost clinging to his cheeks and forehead. He debated whether he should turn around and head back to the car.
The moisture had immediately soaked through his dress shoes and socks. He knew from experience, it would not be long before his wet toes began to throb with pain. The tips of his right hand’s fingers were already hurting since they were constantly exposed to the elements while holding the briefcase’s handle. He glanced down and saw his knuckles were turning a dark red, which could not be good.
The thick falling snow was blinding. Sam turned his back towards a terribly harsh gust of wind then hunkered down bracing himself. His free hand searched for the handcuff key so he could switch hands and give his right hand some time to thaw out, in the warmth of his pants pocket. He found the key then pulled it out of his pocket. His hand shivered from the cold as his numb fingers tried to jiggle the key into the handcuff lock hole. A strong gust of wind bent him over. The tiny key slipped out of his fingers dropping into the snow. “No!” He shouted falling to his knees. His fingers sifted the snow trying to find the key. As the snow soaked through his pants, he realized it was hopeless. The key was gone. He’d never find it. He grasped the briefcase handle, stood up, ducked his head down then trudged determined straight into the wind and falling snow.
Around the next bend, he saw a mailbox on a bent pole. He squinted, gazing down what appeared to be a long driveway boarded by mounds of snow covered hedges, like thick, white, lumpy walls leading into the woods. The snow was coming down so thick, he couldn’t see too far ahead. His teeth started to chatter. He decided to follow the driveway. “If there’s a mailbox, there has to be a house or a building or something at the end of this path. I just hope it’s not too long of a driveway.” He had walked about 75 yards into the woods and was about to give up, turn around then head back out, when he saw a faint light. He tripped over something under the snow and stumbled. His feet slid out from under him. He landed in the snow on his side. “Uhg!” He rolled onto his hands and knees then lifted himself up. “You’re almost there. Get up Sam! Get up! Shelter’s just ahead. Keep going.”
He struggled to raise himself into a hunched over standing position. He took a small step with his left foot then dragged the briefcase behind him. His knee collapsed. He fell face down in the snow. His limbs jerked as he tried to raise himself but pain shot through his back. He flattened out defeated in the snow. The flakes continued to fall.
He gained his breath then tried again to rise but some of his lower vertebrae felt like they had locked. Snow began to cover his face and body. Desperate, he reached behind his back then pulled the pistol from his belt. Through the falling snow he stared at the faint glow of light coming from the window about 100 yards away. Hoping to attract someone’s attention, Sam raised the pistol pointing it straight up then pulled the trigger. BANG! BANG!
Inside the house, in the living room, in front of a blazing fireplace the black and tan, Labrador Retriever and Collie mix stood up then barked twice. Wyatt folded his newspaper then lay it down next to him on the couch. He turned to his wife, across the room. “Did you hear that?”
“Sounded like thunder.” The brunette picked up a towel, continuing to fold their laundry.
“Sounded like gun shots to me.” Their six year old son excitedly jogged into the room wearing only his pajama pants.
Wyatt stared out the window at the big flakes of snow. “It was probably just a plow truck backfiring.” He reached for the curtain cord then pulled it, shutting the drapes. “Go back to bed, Son. Remember we have to be up early tomorrow, if I’m going to teach you how to ice fish.”
The next morning, the snow had stopped falling. “Yeah! No school!” Little Kyle shouted staring out through the front picture window. The six year old was wearing his shiny, blue, one piece, goose down insulated, water repellant coveralls, mid-shin high black rubber Velcro closing boots, big, puffy, boxing glove style mittens and he already had his hood up over his head with the ties tied tightly under his chin.
“Don’t forget your scarf dear.” His Mom raced over to wrap the long colorful knit scarf around her boy’s neck.
“Oh Mom!”
“Jeez Meg! Don’t suffocate the Lad.” Wyatt smiled buttoning up his own jean jacket. “The kid looks like he’s wearing some kind of outer-spacesuit.”
“Well, it’s the first snow of the year and I don’t want him catching a cold.” She kissed the boy on the cheek. “Now you be careful out there and mind your father!”
“Here Duke!” The black Lab/Collie mix came running from somewhere in the back of the house, his nails click clacking on the hardwood floor. Wyatt opened the front door then laughed watching the big mutt lunge off the porch then, bound through the twelve inch high snow.
“Wait for me Duke!” Shouted Kyle, ducking under his Dad’s arm to race ambitiously after the dog, his best pal.
“Keep your eye on them two!” Meg warned then headed into the kitchen.
Wyatt stepped out onto the porch to watch his two charges frolicking in the clean innocent looking white powder. The dog ran to a big oak tree to take a long leak. The boy ran to a three food high snowdrift then dove headfirst into it. The boy crawled out of the snow drift laughing. The dog ran over to lick the kid’s face. “It’s going to be a long day.” Wyatt thought as he pulled his knit cap down over his forehead and ears.
The big, blotchy, tan and black dog turned then raced down the long, curving driveway crashing through the snow. Little Kyle ran as fast as he could in the deep snow, chasing the dog. “Don’t go near the street Kyle!” Wyatt ordered. “And stay off the lake!”
“Okay Pop.” Kyle agreed.
“Kids?” Wyatt watched the boy disappear around the curve then he headed to the garage to get a shovel
Wyatt was just finishing clearing off the path from the garage to the front porch when he heard Little Kyle scream. “Daddy! Daddy!” Wyatt dropped the shovel then ran. His boots thumped through the snow as he headed towards his son’s voice. “Daddy!” As he rounded the first curve in the driveway he saw his son standing about 50 yards away in the middle of the driveway apparently crying.
“I’m coming Kyle!” He shouted reassuring. “Daddy’s coming!” Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!...Wyatt’s boots smashed the snow as he ran to his boy. “Are you okay, Son?” Kyle shook his head yes. “Thank God.” Wyatt kneeled down in the snow in front of his sobbing boy to give him a hug. “What happened? Why are you crying Kyle?”
The boy grunted involuntarily as he turned around to point. Wyatt looked where his son was pointing. He saw Duke about thirty yards away lying on his belly in the snow under a big oak tree. “Is Duke okay?” The boy just kept pointing and grunting. “Okay Son, relax. Daddy will take care of it. You stay here.” Wyatt jogged towards the family dog.
The dog stood up, barked a few times then lay back down putting his head between his paws. “Are you okay Duke?” Wyatt wondered out loud as he jogged closer. “What’s wrong Boy?” Duke stood up, barked then stooped his head down to lick something in the snow. “What did you find there boy?” Wyatt asked as he stepped closer. “Oh my gosh!” The dog was licking a hand sticking out of the snow? “Get away from there!” Wyatt waved his hand at the animal. The dog whined but moved back a few yards.
Wyatt kneeled down in the snow next to the hand staring and trying to figure out if it was real or a part, off a big doll or manikin. With his gloved hands, Wyatt began to dig around the frozen hand. Scooping snow out of the way, Wyatt quickly realized there was a whole man’s arm buried in the snow. He kept digging. The arm was connected to a shoulder. The back of an Adult man’s torso came into view. Slowing down, to be more careful, Wyatt brushed the snow away from a lump of snow to reveal the side of a middle aged man’s frozen face. In shock, Wyatt stared at the dead face trying to place it. He was pretty sure he’d never seen the man before.
“Dad?” Asked the squeaky, frail voice of Wyatt’s son as he stepped beside his Father to look. “Is he dead?”
Wyatt turned to his boy. “Yes.” Wyatt stood up then took his son’s mitten in his gloved hand. “You’re being very brave Kyle.” The boy kept staring at the frozen man’s face.
“Who is he Pop?”
“I’m going to try to figure that out Son. But, first, I need you to go stand over by that tree.” Wyatt pointed a few yards away.
“Okay.” Wyatt watched his boy turn then trudge his way through the snow, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He wondered how seeing his first dead person at such an early age was going to affect his little boy later.
Wyatt turned back to the cadaver to see the big dog standing on the other side of the dead man leaning over and gently licking his frozen face. “Duke! No! Get away! That’s disgusting!” Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket then pulled out a leash. He stepped over to the dog, leaned over to grasp the animal’s collar then clicked the leash to his collar. “Come.” Wyatt tugged the dog. He lead the dog over to his son. “I need you to keep Duke over here with you Son. He handed little Kyle the leash. “We don’t want Duke catching a disease from licking the dead man.”
“I got him Pop.” Kyle replied, happy to be able to help. Reluctantly, Wyatt turned then headed back to the frozen man.
Sam Leech sat on a thick tree branch about 13 feet above the snow covered ground, shivering and hugging the trunk of the tree. “Finally it’s stopped snowing!” He said angrily releasing his grip on the tree trunk. He brushed the snow off his designer overcoat. “I’ve got to get to a telephone. People are going to be worrying about me.” He twisted his waist so he could grab the tree trunk again. He scooted his butt off the branch then began to climb down. He jumped the last few feet. His wing tipped shoes smashed through the frosted top layer of snow crashing through the powder to thrust into the thick, heavy, wet, slush below.
“Yuk!” He pulled his right foot out of the muck then banged the shoe against the tree trunk to knock off some of the freezing gunk. He repeated the procedure with his left shoe.
Head down and mumbling, Sam Leech stomped through the snow and slush, trudging off the lawn then onto the long driveway. Crunch, crunch, crunch…His soaked, wing tipped shoes crashed through the frozen top layer to squash into the freezing, wet, heavy, goo below. “My feet and hands are numb.” A cold fierce gust of wind blew from behind, nudging him to keep walking. He pulled the long overcoat’s wide collar, tighter around his neck tucking his chin down.
The driveway curved and Sam heard faint voices. He looked up to see, about thirty yards away, a grown man, a little boy and a large blotchy dog on a leash. “Hey!” Sam shouted, but his throat was hoarse and the wind drowned him out. “Over here! I need help!” He waved his hands but they didn’t notice him. “I’m saved!” He sighed jubilantly continuing to stumble towards the trio, his saviors.
As Sam approached them, a storm cloud drifted in front of the sun, everything got darker and colder. The wind blew harder. A bolt of lightning flashed in the ski. “Wow! Did you see that dad?” Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked tugging slightly against the leash in Sam’s direction. The man and the boy looked over directly at Sam then turned away as if going back to continue their conversation.
“Please help me.” Sam pleaded to their turned backs. “I’ve been outside walking all night in this storm. I’m so cold!” He wheezed. “I don’t think I can walk another step.” He fell to his knees in the snow pleading. “Help!...I’m begging!”
The man stood up then walked towards Sam. “Thank you.” Sam started to say, but the man brushed right past Sam then kept going without even a nod. “What? Sir, please!” Sam shouted at the man’s back. “I’m desperate!” The man kept walking. “That’s rude.” Sam mumbled. “How can you be so cruel?!” Sam turned to look at the boy. “Son, go get me help!” The boy just stared after his father ignoring Sam. “Please kid!”
Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked at Sam.
“What’s wrong with you!” Sam struggled to stand back up. “I’m a fellow human being who’s in need. I deserve some compassion!” Sam saw the man kneel down in the snow. Indignant, Sam stumbled towards him. “Help me Sir! I’m begging you!” Coming closer Sam saw the man was Kneeling next to an adult body half covered in snow. “Oh my!” Sam watched the man start digging around the body with his gloved hands.
“I’m sorry.” Sam apologized. “Now I see. That explains everything. That guy’s worse off than me. Why didn’t you just say you were already tending to a casualty? I would have understood.” Sam fell to his knees beside Wyatt. Sam watched Wyatt resume scooping snow away from the body.
Wyatt’s hand bumped something hard in the snow. He reached for the clump then quickly realized it was a pistol caked in hard ice. He moved the gun aside remembering the two gun shots he’d thought he’d heard last night. The sounds he’d so quickly dismissed as a truck backfiring. He turned to stare at the back of the cadaver’s head wondering out loud. “Who are you mister?”
“Woo,,,a gun?” Sam said. “He could be a criminal? Or a lawman? But not everyone who carries a gun is a criminal or lawman. After all, I carry a gun too, for protection.” Sam reached behind himself to his pants waist band. “Oh my. I must have lost my gun last night during the storm.”
Wyatt hooked both his gloved hands under the cadaver’s armpits then lifted the head and torso up and out of the snow. Sam could see that the storm victim was a well dressed, white man about his own age. “Pore fellow.” Sam muttered. “But a snappy dresser. That looks like an expensive overcoat he’s wearing.” He tugged his own overcoat tighter around his neck
.
Wyatt twisted the body trying to turn it onto its back. That’s when he noticed the man’s right wrist was handcuffed and the chain led under the snow. “What the hell?” Wyatt dropped the body then stepped closer to examine the handcuffed wrist.
“A handcuff?” Sam reached for his own right wrist remembering last night, having handcuffed his briefcase full of money to his own wrist before he abandoned his car then walked out into the blizzard. But there was no handcuff on Sam’s wrist now and his briefcase full of money was gone! “Huh?” He wondered. “Did the guy in the snow take my gun and briefcase last night?” Sam tried to remember but everything was so vague.
Wyatt dug the chain out of the snow, grasped a hold of the chain with his glove then pulled. Out of the snow emerged a leather briefcase.
“That’s my briefcase!” Sam exclaimed, leaning over to examine the luggage closer. “That man must have stolen it from me!” Sam pointed accusingly at the man lying face down in in the snow.
Wyatt leaned over the cadaver. “Who the hell are you?” He grasped the dead guy’s shoulder then rolled him onto his back.
“Yes, who are you?!” Sam echoed maneuvering into a better position to get a look at the man’s frozen face. “AHH!...” Sam stood up, his swollen, numb hands covering his eyes as he stumbled backwards. Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked. “It can’t be?!...How?..” Sam peeked through his fingers. “But I’m right here?”
Knelling next to the torso, Wyatt grasped the flaps of the dead man’s overcoat. He ripped the coat open sending buttons flying into the snow. He stuck his gloved hands inside the jacket patting the man down. He found the wallet in an upper inside jacket pocket. He pulled out the wallet then pulled off his right glove. Using his bare fingers he flipped through the wallet. Behind a group of family photos Wyatt found a New Jersey Driver license. He pulled it out then read. “Sam J Leech, address 1342 Atlantic Ave, Ocean City, New Jersey.”
Hearing the man read his name, Sam began to sob. He stumbled back to the dead man to stare at his own sad looking, frozen face. “No!......”
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked then growled. “Easy Duke!” Little Kyle consoled tugging back on the dog’s leash. “He can’t hurt us, Boy. Not anymore.”
Glancing at the birthdate on the license Wyatt figured out Sam Leech was, “51, the same age as me, only you Mr. Leech won’t be getting any older.” Wyatt pulled a business card out then read. “Zacker, Finettie and Leech Industrial Development Corp. Atlantic City Division, Sam J Leech President.” He closed the man’s wallet then stuffed it into his own jacket pocket. “Okay Mr. Big Wig, Industry Consultant all the way from Atlantic City, what do you have in your briefcase that’s so important you handcuffed it to your wrist?” Wyatt resumed searching the man’s cloths, this time looking for keys to unlock the handcuffs and briefcase. “Something inside must be pretty valuable.”
“Get away from him!...Away from me!” Sam shouted. “You vulture!”
“Ah,” Wyatt smiled. He pulled a ring of keys out of the dead man’s right pants pocket.
“Those are my personal keys!” Sam shouted indignantly.
Looking at the keys then the handcuffs, Wyatt quickly realized the keys were all too big to open the handcuffs. Wyatt pulled the briefcase closer to try the keys out. He saw it was locked with a combination lock. “Damn!”
“You don’t need to know what’s inside my briefcase!” Sam shouted at the man. “When are you going to call 911? A man is dead here! My relatives and my associates need to be informed!” A tear dripped from Sam’s eye.
Wyatt pulled his other glove off then unzipped his jacket. He reached inside his jacket then pulled out a metal fold up knife. He flicked his wrist making the blade swing out. Click, it locked in place. “What are you going to do with that?” Sam shouted at him. Wyatt pulled the briefcase close to him then began to jab the point of the knife into the latches. “Ha! That’s a very expensive top of the line security briefcase Fellow. The salesman claimed it could not be picked.”
Wyatt began jabbing, twisting, prying and sawing the latches and hinges with his knife, After about five minutes with no results, Wyatt jabbed the briefcase in the middle of its top then sliced through the leather covering. He peeled the leather back to find, “Steel? Damn! No wonder this briefcase is so heavy”
“Ha! See?” Sam shouted at the man. “You can’t break in, with a mere pocket knife! I tried to tell you, it’s a top of the line security briefcase, Dope!”
“Ruff! Ruff!” The dog started barking.
Sam Leech turned to the dog and the boy. “You can see me doggie?” He walked towards them.
“Growl!” The dog showed his teeth then whined, then backed up as far as the leash would allow him to pull.
“What do you see?” Sam stepped in front of the boy. He opened his palm right in front of the lad’s face and eyes then waved his hand. The boy didn’t respond. “So, only the dog can see me!”
“Growl!”
“Kyle, Are you two okay over there?” The man shouted over his shoulder.
“Yes Dad.”
“Listen Son, I want you to turn all the way around and look the other way for a few minutes okay. Turn away from me now and look out at the lake. Do you understand? I’ll tell you when it’s okay to look over here again.”
“Okay Dad.” The kid turned around to look out at the lake.
“Why?” Sam turned back to see the man stretching his dead body’s arm out in the snow. “What are you thinking?” He watched the man toss the briefcase aside on the snow then slide it away from the hand so the handcuff chain became taunt. The man rolled back the sleeve of the cadaver’s overcoat revealing the pale and gray skin of Sam’s frozen wrist. Wyatt picked up his knife.
“Don’t even think about trying that!” Sam ran over to the man and made a grab with both hands for the man’s hand holding the knife. Sam’s hands went straight through the other man’s hand, and he was left grasping air and accomplishing nothing. Gasping, Sam straightened his back up then threw two quick punches at the man’s head. Sam’s fists went through the man’s head coming out the other side, again doing nothing. “No!” Sam shouted with frustration. Desperate Sam tried to kick the man in the side but his foot and leg sailed through the man as if nothing was there leaving Sam unbalanced then he slipped, falling into the snow.
“Don’t do it!” Sam’s spirit sobbed, crawling over to place his face within inches of where the man was holding his knife, pressing the blade against Sam’s dead body’s wrist.
What was strange was Sam felt a piercing pain as he watched the man pressed the knife blade deeper sinking into Sam’s gray flesh. “AHHHH!!!!” Sam shouted as the man began to saw the blade back and forth. Not understanding why as a ghost he was able to feel the pain, Sam rolled away from the scene. He grasped his wrist, stood up then screamed as he ran in a circle. “AAHHHH!!!!”
The dog jumped up then turned and ran, yanking his leash out of little Kyle’s hand. “Duke!” The boy watched his dog run off towards the house. Yelp!...Yelp!...
“Don’t turn around yet Kyle!” His dad ordered then grunted as the knife blade hit bone.
“AAAHHH!!!” Sam continued to yell, squeezing his right wrist with his left hand and stomping his legs in the snow. “What kind of a ghost am I?” He wept, hunched over, his left hand cradling his right arm. “I only scare dogs and I feel pain when my dead body is cut?” He glanced down at his wrist and saw blood bubbling out of the cut. The blood was painting the snow red but Sam wondered if he was the only one who could see the red goo?
Kneeling next to the body, Wyatt hacked and sawed away at the stubborn wrist joint. Sam Leech ran to a pile of snow then thrust his bleeding extremity deep into the freezing white powder hoping the cold would numb some pain. “Ahhh!...” Sam sighed. “Awww!!...”
“Almost done.” Wyatt sliced through the last rubber band like tendons then watched the severed hand fall to the ice covered snow. The hand slid down the side of the icy bank on its palm, its fingers wiggling like a runaway spider. “Yuk!” Wyatt leaned over with the knife then stabbed the hand in its back. The fingers spread out like a speared ocean crab. He picked the hand up like a big bug on a stick then flicked the severed hand into the hole from which he had drug the frozen man out of.
Wyatt wiped the knife blade off in the snow then folded the knife blade back up into its handle. He dropped the knife into his inner jacket pocket. He reached for the man’s forearm stump then slid the tight handcuff off the forearm. Wyatt rolled the man’s body back into the hole he had come out of, on top of his severed hand.
Wyatt stood up then began kicking snow over top of the dead man, reburying him where the dog had found him. “What the hell are you doing?” The dead man’s ghost asked, pulling his arm out of the pile of snow to stare at his coagulated stump. “You’re reburying me?”
Wyatt picked his gloves up out of the snow then pulled them back on to protect his hands. He kneeled next to the snow grave then began heaping and shoveling handfuls of snow in, around and on top of the dead body. “Why are you reburying me?” Sam Leech’s spirit asked as he watched Wyatt pack the snow down tight over top of his corpse.
“If Duke could sniff you out,” Wyatt mumbled, unknowingly answering the ghost’s question. “I don’t want any other animals coming along and digging you up.” He patted down then smoothed out the mound of snow he had piled on top of the grave. “Not before I come back to dispose of you properly.” Wyatt stood up then stepped back to stare at the pile of snow. He walked towards the woods then stopped by a leafless bush. He grasped a handful of thin tangled branches then twisted them then bent them to break them off. He carried the branches back to the grave. Wyatt spread the branches over top of the grave to camouflage it.
“Why are you hiding me?” The spirit wondered. “I don’t get it?”
As if he had heard the ghost’s question, Wyatt gazed down the driveway. “We can’t have some snoop stumbling onto you now. Not with your hand cut off. That might raised some people’s suspicions.” Wyatt bent to pick up the briefcase. “Now let’s go find out what treasure you’re hiding in here. I hope you contain something that is worth all this trouble.”
“Oh, so it’s all about my briefcase.” The Spirit hissed as he jogged to catch up to Wyatt. “You don’t even know if there’s anything valuable inside, but you didn’t hesitate cutting my hand off to get at it! You sick bastard!” Sam swung his good hand at the back of Wyatt’s head. The Spirit’s fist went through Wyatt’s head like it was air, doing absolutely nothing, not even messing up the part in Wyatt’s hair. “Oh!” Sam shouted then stared up at the ski. “Why am I here?...Why?”
“Son are you okay?” Wyatt walked up beside little Kyle then placed his hand on his boy’s shoulder. The child turned towards Wyatt to hug his Dad’s waist. “You are a very brave boy and I’m very proud of you. Can you do me one more thing, Kyle?” The kid stared up at his Dad’s face. “Can you keep this all a secret?” The kid just stared. “We don’t want to upset your Mother. You know how Mom’s get.”
“Will Mommy be scared?”
“Yes, which is why we can never, ever tell her. In fact we can’t tell anyone else about the dead body. This will just be our special secret. Okay?”
“Okay.” The boy smiled.
Wyatt took hold of his son’s mitten covered hand. “Let’s go get some hot chocolate?”
“Okay.” They began to trudge through the deep snow back towards their house.
“Noooooo!...” Sam Leech’s ghost shouted. “That’s my money!” He raced at Wyatt like a football player about to make a tackle. “I won’t let you have it!” Sam made a grab for the briefcase but his hands went straight through the briefcase coming out the other side as if no briefcase was even there. He dove at Wyatt wrapping his arms around the man’s midsection. But his arms sailed straight through Wyatt as if he was made of mist. Sam hopped to the side to avoid plowing into the boy. The ghost’s right foot slid on the ice. Sam lost his footing falling hard into a tree trunk. THUD! The snow above him in the tree’s branches fell covering Wyatt and his Son.
“Ha, ha, ha…” Little Kyle laughed as he brushed the snow off his hat and shoulders.
“Oh, you think that’s funny aye?” Wyatt scooped up a handful of powder then tossed it at his Son. His son leaned down to scoop up a handful of snow. Meanwhile, Sam Leech’s spirit was astonished by the fact that he had caused the snow to fall from the top of the tree. Sam was dead. He was invisible. But, was it possible for him to affect the physical world he had, for some reason, only partially left? He stood up, wrapped his arms around the tree trunk then shook the tree with all his might and frustration. A grumbling came from above. Wyatt and Kyle heard the noise. Wyatt instinctively grasped his Son’s mitten hand then started to run, pulling the boy along as the heavy wet snow crashed down from branch to branch.
THUNK! The wet snow covered the man and boy appearing as if a small white cloud had lowered to engulf them. The snow and slush hit with such force and weight it knocked them both to their knees then splashed in all directions. Sam Leech delightedly continued to shake the tree trunk so more powder fell on top of his victims. “I’m not powerless! I can’t punch or hit people. And, only the dog can see or hear me. But I’m not powerless!” He shook the tree then watched the last bit of powder fall dusting the man and his boy.
The boy stood up first, brushing the wet slush off his coat. “Wow! Dad, that was awesome!”
Hands on his knees, Wyatt fought to regain his breath as he glanced at his boy’s smiling face. “Yeah, awesome.” He looked up at the now bare branches of the tree overhead.
“Like being hit by an avalanche!” Little Kyle exclaimed.
“Avalanches are much more fun.” Wyatt teased as he struggled to his feet. He grabbed the briefcase handle with one hand then his Son’s mitten hand with his other. “Let’s go get out of these wet close and ask Mommy to heat us up some hot soup.” He started walking towards home, tugging his son along beside him.
“Did you ever get hit by an avalanche Dad?”
“Oh sure, plenty of times.” Wyatt laughed.
“No you didn’t!” Little Kyle argued. “I’m going to ask Mom when we get home.”
“Okay, ask Mom. Just remember, we have our little secret that we aren’t going to tell anybody. Right?”
“Right Pop.” Kyle smiled. “Just between us boys”
Sam Leech waited until the man and his son were halfway underneath the umbrella like branches of the next big tree before he started shaking the tree’s trunk. This time Wyatt immediately realized what the grumbling noise over head was. He quickly bent over then scooped his son up in his arms then back stepped holding the boy as the heavy slush and snow crashed to the ground inches in front of their toes. SPLASH! Slush and moisture recoated the father and son’s clothing. “Wow!” The boy laughed. “You saved me Dad!”
“Yeah,” Wyatt put his son down. “Let’s go this way.” He pointed down a trail where there were no trees to pass under that led to their long driveway.
“Okay. I’ll race you home!” Wyatt’s son took off running through the deep snow.
“Kids!” Wyatt muttered then shouted. “Be careful Son!” Wyatt walked swinging the briefcase with a carefree attitude. He was anxious to get the locked case back to his work bench. He had good vibes that there was something valuable inside and he could not wait to crack it open. He began to whistle as he trudged through the snow.
Sam Leech’s Spirit jealously watched the man joyfully heading towards the warmth, comfort and shelter of his nice sized cozy looking house. He watched with envy, little Kyle on the porch petting the dog, by the front door. He wished he too could get out of his wet clothes. He wished he could enjoy a hot meal in front of a warm fireplace. But, Sam Leech knew, those days were over for him. He sensed, his destiny was outside here in the cold. He shivered. Somehow, he was trapped in a state of transition, somewhere between dead and alive. He was confused. “Damn! I was a failure most of the time when I was alive. And, now, I messed up dying too!” He wondered. “Am I being punished for something I screwed up while I was alive? What did I do?!”
Sam’s spirit kicked the slushy snow in frustration, as he tried to figure out what was happening to him. He guessed somehow the magnitude of last night’s storm was responsible. Something in the fierceness of the storm’s makeup must have disrupted something in the cosmos which postponed his spirit from completing its journey to the beyond. “But what?” He had frozen to death. His spirit had left his body but then instead of going on to complete its journey the storm had confused things and his spirit had sought shelter from the storm while still on earth. He didn’t know how it had happened or why? And, he wondered if it was permanent. Was he doomed to walk the earth for eternity, invisible only to be seen and heard by dogs and perhaps some other animals? He shivered at the thought. But, if no, then, how long would he be here? “Is this a test?!” He shouted up at the heavens. An after death test that he had to pass before he could move on? He was frightened, angry and lonely but most of all frustrated. He had questions and there seemed to be rules to this ghostly state he’d been abandoned in, but no one had given him the instruction manual.
About an hour later, Sam Leech’s ghost was interrupted from the nap he was taking, up in the tree branches, above his grave, by the sound of vehicles driving up the still snow covered driveway. Sam yawned. His good arm and hand wrapped tighter around the tree trunk while he used his stump arm to separate two branches. He stretched his neck so he could peer through the branches towards the main road. “Well, well, here comes the cavalry.” He muttered eyeing a jeep with police lights on its roof driving up the driveway followed by a black, four wheel drive, Ford pickup truck. Both vehicles had snow chains wrapped around their tires. They were splashing snow to their sides like the wake of a speed boat at high gear, zipping through the bay.
“This should be interesting.” Sam mumbled as he climbed down the tree trunk. The spirit ran through the snow, waving his hand and stump, hoping that one of the drivers could see him. He raced into the middle of the driveway but the vehicles did not slow or swerve. He saw a glimpse of the driver’s police cap and mustached face then the police jeep’s bumper slammed into his waist. As the jeep drove through the ghost’s body, Sam saw only white static like when a television loses reception. He felt a slight electric tingle for a moment then regained his sight. Seconds later, the pickup truck plowed into him. Sam recognized the bald head and stern face of his business partner, Harvey Redfield, who was steering then Sam saw bright white static and felt tingling electric vibrations as the pickup truck passed all the way through him.
“Harvey!” Sam Leech gasped, sucking in air. He was bent over with his elbows resting on his knees, as he struggled to regain his breath. The two cars driving through the ghost’s body had weakened him considerably but had not caused him any real damage. Sam stood up straight, turned around then jogged after the two vehicles.
Rounding the last bend in the driveway, Sam Leech’s Spirit saw the jeep and the pickup truck parked in front of the house. Bald Harvey Redfield was talking to the police officer as they walked up the shoveled walkway towards the front porch. Sam raced as fast as he could, kicking up snow and slush, to catch up to them. He wasn’t going to miss a second of the coming conversation or the look on the man’s face when he realized the cops and Harvey were already onto him. “Boy Harvey,” The ghost thought. “I got to hand it to you. You sure found me fast. I guess when a half million dollars is at stake, people don’t mess around.”
Knock, knock, knock! The police officer hammered the front door with his gloved fist. “This is the closest house to where we found your friend’s car.” The officer said to Harvey. “I’m hoping that when he abandoned his car your friend Mr. Leech walked here and found sanctuary from the blizzard.” Sam Leech’s ghost listened to their conversation while squatting in the bushes in front of the porch.
“Wow, this cop was good.” Sam thought. “He got everything right except, I never made it this far.”
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! The dog started barking from inside the home. “Quiet!” A woman shouted then called out softer. “Who is it?”
“Police Miss. We’re checking up on everyone after last night’s storm.”
“Oh, give me a second.” The door opened the few inches the security chain would allow. “Hello.” A brunette wearing a yellow printed housedress smiled shyly as she peeked through the space. “We’re all fine inside here officers. It’s very nice of you to come around asking.”
“It’s good to hear you’re all okay, Miss. We found a car abandoned on the side of the road a few hundred yards south of your driveway. It appears as if the driver slid off the road then got stuck in the deep snow during the storm last night. We’re trying to locate the driver and we thought maybe he walked over here to use your phone or to seek shelter?”
“No one came knocking during the storm and you two are the first visitors we’ve had today.”
“Would you mind looking at his photograph?”
“Yes of course.” She closed the door then unlatched the chain. “Where are my manners? Come in.” The officer and the burley bold man stomped the snow off their boots then stepped through the doorway into the small foyer.
“Wait for me.” Sam Leech’s ghost hustled up the front porch stairs then over to the front door. As the police officer shut the door behind him, the spirit grasped the doorknob then walked straight through the closing door. Vvvvvvvvv…He felt the electric like vibrations surge through his body.
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” The woman asked.
“No, but thank you.” The bald man held up the photo of the missing Sam Leech.
“Oh, it wouldn’t do any good for me to look at him. I haven’t left the house yet today. But my husband and my son were outside shoveling and playing in the snow all morning. Maybe they saw your man. Wait here and I’ll go round up the boys.”
“Thanks Miss…?”
“Koehler, Meg Koehler.”
“Wyatt, Kyle!” She turned shouting as she headed back into her living room. “We have visitors Boys!” She crossed the room then opened a door that led down a set of stairs. “Boys, the police are here. They want to talk to the two of you. Come on up.”
Stepping up behind the two men, Sam Leech’s ghost put his good arm around the burley bald man’s shoulders. “Harvey, I hope you are going to avenge me?” Sam held his scabbed, decapitated, blood oozing, stump up in front of Harvey’s face. “He cut my hand off!” A tear started to roll out of the corner of the ghost’s eye. “I want him to pay!”
“Ruff! Ruff!” The dog trotted over to check out the visitors. When he saw the Spirit, he started growling.
“Duke!” The woman shouted. “Leave the nice men alone!” The dog turned then raced back through the living room then dashed down the back hallway. Wyatt pushed open the basement door then stepped onto his living room carpet with his plaid slip on bedroom slippers. He wore a floor length flannel robe. Behind his father cowered little Kyle, wearing mickey mouse pajamas, clinging to his Dad’s robe with both hands.
Wyatt studied the two men standing by his front door. “What can we do for you fellows?”
“We’re looking for a man called Samuel Leech. His car was abandoned a few hundred yards away from the entrance to your driveway. Harvey held up the photo. “Have either of you seen this man?” The boy let go of his Dad’s robe then turned then raced down the same hallway the dog had gone.
“Kyle!” His mother shouted after him. “Mind your manners, Son!” She turned to the two men. “I’m sorry. He’s shy.”
“He didn’t see anything.” Wyatt answered for the boy. “Neither of us saw anyone today. We never left our own property. You saw how long our driveway is, when you drove up. And, quite frankly, I don’t allow my kid or the dog to venture anywhere near the main road because it’s dangerous. So…”
“Thank you guys,” The police officer smiled. “For your time and help.” He turned then headed towards the door. Harvey reluctantly, re-placed the photo inside his inner leather jacket pocket then followed the officer out.
“Is that it?” The Spirit scolded. “You’re giving up already?!” The ghost followed the men out onto the porch then down the front stoop stairs.
“Did you see that little boy bolt?” Harvey shook his head. “I think that kid knows something!”
“Knows what?" The policeman looked back at Harvey. “They seem like a nice average family to me. What could they know? Do you think they have your Buddy locked up in their basement?”
“No. But, you have to admit, it was odd the way the lad ran off.”
“Young kids are odd.”
“Don’t go!” The ghost shouted as he watched Harvey and the police officer climb into their separate vehicles. “These people have our money!” Sam pointed his stump at the house. The two vehicles drove away splashing snow and slush onto the ghost’s pants. “Damn!”
Twenty minutes later, the front door opened. Wyatt stepped out onto the porch carrying two halves of the mangled briefcase. The ghost opened his eyes then looked over from his prone position where he’d been lying across the swinging porch bench in the far corner of the porch.
“So I see you got my money out.” The spirit sat up on the bench. “News flash Buddy! You ain’t going to spend a dime of my money! My associate Harvey is on to you and your punk boy. Harvey will be back. He’s like a bloodhound once he gets a whiff. Old Harv will not allow a half a million dollars to just disappear into thin air.” The spirit watched Wyatt reach back inside the doorway then lift out what looked like a motorized chain saw.
“What are you planning now?” The ghost watched Wyatt gather up the broken pieces of Sam’s briefcase into his right gloved hand then pick up the chainsaw with his left hand. The ghost stood up then followed Wyatt as he headed off trudging through the snow.
“Don’t you have a conscience?” The ghost walked behind the man, badgering him, even though the ghost knew the man didn’t hear anything he said. “It’s not your money. You didn’t earn any of it. If you turn the money in now, the cops will go easy on you.” Sam looked at his stump. “All you did was cut off a dead man’s hand. “Mangling a corpse, how much time would you have to do for that? After all you didn’t kill me. The blasted snow did that!” He kicked the snow. “You realize if you continue to conceal evidence and keep on lying to them, the cops are going to start wondering if maybe you did murder me to get to what was in my briefcase. But, for some reason, I don’t think Harvey told them about the briefcase full of money yet. If I was you, I’d take my chances with the cops. Harvey’s got a nasty temper.”
The man stopped walking. He dropped the briefcase parts in the snow then laid down the chainsaw. The ghost looked around then quickly realized they were standing in the middle of the lake, on the ice, which was covered by snow.
The man stooped over then began scooping up handfuls of snow. He tossed the snow aside, quickly digging down to the ice. He cleared a circle, a little bit bigger than a garbage can lid. “ Ah.” The ghost acknowledged. “I see what you’re up to.”
The man picked up the chainsaw. He pulled the cord starting the gas engine. “You are going to get rid of the evidence.” The ghost stated as he watched the man rev the saws engine a few times. Wyatt lowered the chain blade towards the ice. Gggrrrr… He ground away at the ice with the chain blade. The heavy duty chainsaw ripped through the ice like butter, sending chips of ice flying in all directions. In a few minutes, the man turned off the saw then lay it aside. He stooped to lift chunks of ice out of the hole. The ghost peaked over Wyatt’s shoulder to see a nice size ragged edged hole with water in the bottom and ice chips floating in the water.
Wyatt twisted then reached for the broken parts of the briefcase. He dropped the parts of the briefcase into the water then pushed them underwater with his gloved hand until they sunk out of sight.
“Oh, you’re smart.” The ghost shouted. “But, you’ll get caught. Criminals always do.” He watched Wyatt stand up then reach into his jacket pocket. Wyatt pulled out the dead man’s pistol. He tossed the pistol into the water hole. Splash! “Yes, get rid of all the evidence.”
The ghost stepped up behind Wyatt then threw a few punches at Wyatt’s back. The Spirit’s fists sailed straight through Wyatt’s torso, harmlessly coming out the other side. “Damn!” The Spirit watched in frustration as the man turned then began walking back to shore.
“Hey!” The Spirit jogged to catch up to the man. “You forgot your chainsaw, Stupid!” The ghost pointed back to the gas powered tool lying in the snow next to the hole in the ice. Of course the man couldn’t hear the ghost, so the man just kept walking. After a few more steps it became obvious they weren’t heading back towards the house. They were traveling straight towards where the ghost’s body was buried in the snow. Crack!...Lightning flash across the sky.
A cold fierce gust of wind blew dusting them both with a mist of fine loose snow. Wyatt shivered. He clutched the collar of his coat tight around his neck. “You bastard!” The ghost ran to catch up to Wyatt. “You didn’t forget your chainsaw. You plan on coming back to this ice hole!” He shouted at the back of Wyatt’s head. “There’s still more evidence to get rid of!” The Spirit swung a punch at Wyatt’s kidney. The fist went through the man like he was made of steam, doing zero damage. The Ghost’s momentum threw the ghost off balance. The Spirit’s shoes slid out from under him as he fell to the ice with a splash. Lying on the snow covered iced lake, the Spirit shouted. “I won’t let you dispose of my body in some frozen lake out in the middle of nowhere!” The Ghost jumped to his feet then raced after the man.
“I have a, fully paid for, family plot, waiting for me to lie down in it, back in Pleasantville New Jersey. I want and deserve a real burial with a ceremony. My family members deserve to know where I am and what became of me. They deserve peace of mind, closure so they can move on with their lives. You can’t dump me in that ice hole!” The Spirit raced at Wyatt then dove attempting to tackle the man football style. Vvvvvv…The ghost sailed straight through the man. Splash! The ghost slid across the snow covered ice on his belly, splashing up a wake of snow.
The ghost turned his head to watch Wyatt climbing up the lake’s bank. “AHHHH!!!!...” The Spirit yelled in frustration. A gust of wind seemed to fly out of the Ghost’s mouth as he yelled. The wind scooped up snow off the frozen lake, sending a fog of powder to cover the man. The ghost stood up delighted to realize he had developed another skill. “AHHHH!!!!...” He shouted again sending another wind blast full of snow to cover the man. “I got power.” The ghost mumbled, watching the man brush the snow off his clothes. “I just have to figure out how to use it, to stop this man from doing something terribly stupid before it’s too late.”
Wyatt resumed his climb up the bank. He separated two bushes then pushed his way through the briars into the woods. The Spirit ran to catch up to him. Wyatt walked through a small group of trees then pushed his way through a small cluster of bushes and brush to arrive a few feet from where he’d buried the dead man’s body.
Wyatt grasped the camouflage twigs then tossed them aside to expose the mound of snow that marked the snow grave. Wyatt fell to his knees then began digging with his gloved hands. He scooped the snow to the side. “Grave robber!” The Spirit stood beside Wyatt watching the man digging up his body. “Thief!” Wyatt kept scooping snow. “For the last time, Sir, I’m begging you. Do the right thing. Turn the money and my body into the authorities.”
“Go back to the house and call the cops. They’ll understand. You saw all that money and you just had the urge to keep it. Who wouldn’t be tempted by half a million dollars? If you turn the money in now, I‘m sure they’ll go easy on you. A lot easier than Harvey and his people will go on you when they catch up to you.”
Wyatt exposed the head and upper body first. He shuffled over then began digging out the legs.
“If you dispose of my body and get away with stealing my money, everyone will think I took the money and disappeared with it. If they don’t find my body, they’ll think I planned this whole rouse. They’ll never stop looking for me. The cops and Harvey’s boys will harass my wife and family forever thinking someone must know where I went. My family will eventually start to question if I could just abandon them. No one will have any peace.”
Wyatt straddled the grave then reached down and grasped the tall corpse under the elbows. He lifted the body up then backed up, lugging it out of the shallow grave. Wyatt lay the cadaver in the snow. He walked back to the grave then began kicking snow and slush back in to fill the hole up. “You are a class act.” The ghost sarcastically disapproved as he watched Wyatt walk around the grave kicking snow into it.
Wyatt grasped the cadaver under the armpits then lifted up the upper body. The dead man was tall, heavy, stiff as a board and weighed down with water but it slid easily along the wet snow. The Spirit broke down and cried as he watched his own dead body being dragged through the snow and slush. “I should have just stayed in my car and waited to be rescued.” He regretted. “Why did I ever venture out into that storm?”
The Spirit followed Wyatt as the man dragged his cadaver through the woods. Wyatt rolled the dead body down the lake’s bank. Wyatt climbed down the bank then picked up the cadaver’s feet. The cadaver slid easily along the frozen lake’s surface as Wyatt dragged it by its ankles. The Spirit watched helplessly as the man lugged his body along the snow covered ice, out towards the ice fishing hole. From the shore the Ghost yelled. “AHHHH!!!!...” in frustration. A gust of wind seemed to build up around the ghost. “AHHHH!!!!...” The wind grew stronger and stronger scooping up snow off the ground and the lake then a swirling fog headed whistling towards the man.
Wyatt dropped the cadaver’s legs then turned his back to the gale. He hunched over as the wind whipped against his back and white powder covered him. The ghost watched the man stand up then shake then begin brushing the snow off his clothes. “AHHHH!!!!...” the Spirit shouted again sending another wind blast full of snow to cover the man.
Defeated, the ghost watched the man brush the snow off his clothes then reach down to pick up his cadaver’s ankles. The man resumed dragging the body towards the ice fishing hole. The idea of spending eternity forgotten in some icy lake made Sam’s Spirit shiver. “NO!!..” The ghost shouted, suddenly racing across the frozen lake. “I have to keep trying to stop you.” A dark cloud crossed in front of the sun. Lightning flashed in the ski. Crack! Thunder exploded.
Wyatt grasped the dead body under its arm pits. He lifted the cadaver up into almost a standing position. Wyatt wrapped his arms around the dead body’s torso to hold it up right as he carefully took a step back towards the ice hole.
“NNNOOOO!!...” The enraged ghost ran smack into his own dead body’s back. He wrapped his arms around his body and Wyatt’s grasping tightly. Vvvvv…Wyatt felt a slight jolt as the Spirit re-entered its earthly body. The jolt was enough to throw Wyatt’s footing off on the slippery ice. Wyatt’s feet slipped out from under him. He fell to the ice on his back. Thud! The frozen, wet, dead body landed on top of Wyatt.
“Yuk!” Wyatt struggled to climb out from under the heavy cadaver. Wyatt’s lower back hurt and he was breathing heavy as he stood back up on the iced lake. The Spirit was surprised to find himself trapped back inside his own cadaver, lying face down staring at the snow. He tried to move his limbs but they were trapped inside the dead body’s limbs and thus frozen solid. He wiggled and strained trying to get back out of his body but he was stuck inside.
Wyatt grasped the cadaver underneath the arm pits. He lifted the dead man up. The body felt heavier this time. Wyatt thought that was because of his aching back and the fact that his own clothes and the dead man’s were both holding extra water weight due to the fall. RUFF!...RUFF!...RUFF! Wyatt looked towards the shore to see his son Kyle holding their dog Duke on a leash as they both watched him. “Damn!” He muttered.
“Kyle!” Wyatt shouted over the cadaver’s shoulder. “Go back home Son!”
RUFF! The dog and son just stood staring at him. RUFF! RUFF!
Inside the cadaver, the ghost had resolved himself to being back inside his dead, frozen, earthly body. In one way it was refreshing and settling but knowing the man meant to drop him in the ice fishing hole was disturbing.
Wyatt was upset that his Son was about to witness him dispose of a man’s body into the lake but things had gone too far, there was no turning back now. There had been a lot of money in this man’s briefcase and Wyatt had no intention of letting a dime of it slip through his fingers. He carried the cadaver over to the ice fishing hole. He dangled the dead man’s feet into the water.
The Spirit tried to focus all his energy on moving the limbs of his own dead body. He closed his eyes and concentrated fully, wiggling and flexing. Wyatt let go of the dead body. As the body fell, one of the cadaver’s frozen fingers hooked Wyatt’s right jacket pocket it pulled Wyatt forward, bending him down. Wyatt’s feet flew out from under him. As he fell the cadaver’s other hand’s finger slid into a belt loop on Wyatt’s left hip. Splash! The cadaver slid into the lake his fingers grasping and tugging Wyatt’s clothing with it. The waters current swept the cadaver under the ice. Its fingers tangled in Wyatt’s clothes, drug Wyatt’s legs and waist into the ice hole. “Ahhhhh!”
“Dad!” From shore little Kyle and Duke watched in horror as Wyatt struggled to keep the upper half of his body out of the water. RUFF! RUFF! Wyatt’s gloved hands clawed the ice in front of him. “Dad!...” Kyle screamed as he watched his Dad sink slowly, lower and lower into the water. “HELP!” Kyle screamed as his Dad sunk up to his neck. Little Kyle stopped breathing as he watched his Father’s head submerge under water. The boy stared immobilized as his Dad’s gloved hands and fingers clawed at the ice around the edge of the hole.
SPLASH!...Wyatt’s head popped up shouting, “Ahhhhh!” He fought with all his strength to pull himself out. Finally, the weight of the cadaver pulled Wyatt back down under the water then the current swept him under the ice. “HELP!...” He tried to yell but it all came out as bubbles.
In shock little Kyle let go of the dog’s leash then turned then raced towards the house. The dog chased after him. The child ran splashing through the melting snow. Kyle tripped then fell, tumbling in the slush. “Ruff!” The dog barked. The boy rose quickly then resumed running. “Ruff! Ruff!” The dog barked as he chased the young lad.
Kyle raced up the porch stairs slamming into the front door. His mitten hand struggled to turn the door knob but kept slipping. His other mitten pounded against the door. He tried to yell but he had lost his voice. “Ruff!…Ruff!” The dog hopped around behind the boy barking.
Kyle felt the door knob turning from the inside. The door opened. Kyle plowed right into his Mom. “What’s going on?” Kyle shoved past his Mother racing inside. “Are you crazy?!” The kid raced towards the staircase. “Get back here and take off those wet clothes and boots!” The kid climbed two steps at a time ignoring her. “You’re traipsing snow through my whole house!”
The dog saw an opening then made a dash to follow the boy inside but the mother was too quick. She grasped the leash, that was still attached to Duke’s collar stopping the wet animal short. “You aren’t coming in my house all soaking wet!” She drug the dog back out onto the porch. She unclipped his leash then shouted. “You’d better go find Daddy to clean you up, if you want to get in this house.”
She walked back inside slamming the door behind her. “Kyle! Get down here this instant!” The boy didn’t answer. “Kyle, you get down here and clean this mess up! Right now! I’m not playing!” Still no reply. “You are in trouble Buster!” She headed up the stairs following the trail of puddles, snow and slush.
Entering the boy’s room, she saw her son, lying on his side on his bed, curled up in the
fetal position, still dressed in his wet boots and outerwear, his head covered by a pillow. “Son? What’s wrong?” He didn’t move. “Are you hurt?” She grabbed the pillow then pulled it off his head. He was sucking his thumb, tears were running down his cheeks and he was shivering. “Son?” He just stared at the wall. “Look at me!” She grasped his chin then turned his face towards her. His face was white, lips blue, sweat was beaded on his forehead and he was breathing fast, short breaths. He stared past her vacantly.
“Woo! Relax, Baby.” She reached for the zipper of his coat then pulled it down. She pulled his heavy, wet jacket off him then tossed it on the floor. “She sat beside him on his bed. “Okay Kyle, breathe deeply.” She coached him. “Try to calm down. Open your mouth wide and take deep, slower breaths.” She reached for his right rubber boot, flicked the buckles open then pulled off the boot. She tossed it on top of the coat. She started working on the buckles of his left boot. The boy began sniffling and sobbing. “It’s okay Son.” He was breathing slower now. “Lie back and shut your eyes.” She pulled off his second boot then tossed it on the pile of wet stuff. She vaguely remembered hearing somewhere, dehydration was one of the symptoms of shock. “I’ll get you some water Son.” She stood then jogged out of the bedroom.
She returned to her son’s room carrying a tall glass of water and a wet wash towel. Kyle was lying prone with his blankets pulled up so that only his little nose and eyes peeked out. She knew, her son had taken off his heavy, down filled snow pants and the sweat shirt he’d been wearing because she saw them lying where he tossed them on the floor. “Sit up baby and sip some water.” She sat on the side of her boy’s bed then handed him the tall glass. Between sips, she mopped his forehead with the wet towel. “Tell mommy what happened out there?” He shook his head no. “Are you hurt?” The boy shook his head no. She took the glass of water from him then placed it on his night table. “Did Daddy yell at you?” He turned away then buried his head in his pillow. She stood up. “Get some rest. I’ll check back on you soon.” On the way out she turned the light off then partially closed the boy’s door. “Guess I’ll have to go find your Daddy to find out what happened.”
Meg walked to the window at the end of the hall. She pulled the cord to open the blinds. She peered out at the beautiful snow covered landscape, white and clean looking. She could see the wind was still whipping the snow around in fierce, sporadic gusts. She couldn’t see Wyatt anywhere. “He can’t be too far.” She thought, looking down at the tiny area of driveway he’d shoveled off. “He didn’t shovel enough to drive the pickup out of the garage.” She pulled the cord closing the blinds then headed down the stairs.
From the front closet, Meg grabbed her heavy, khaki color, long winter parka coat then slipped it on over top of her yellow flower printed house dress. She zippered up then bent over to grab her black, suede, knee length, faux, fur collar boots. She quickly stepped out of her fluffy bedroom slippers then pulled on, what she called her snug fitting, serious weather boots. She pulled her hood up over her head, tied the pull tie then reached for the door knob.
Meg stepped out onto the front porch, glanced around then shouted. “Wyatt!” She waited for a moment. When there was no reply, she headed, walking down the shoveled entrance path. “Wyatt!” She walked off the shoveled path, stepping into the deep snow and slush. With the wind blowing the top layer of powder around and the sun melting the snow and turning the under layer into slush, there were no tracks left for Meg to follow. She wandered down the long curved driveway shouting. “Wyatt!”
Near the end of the driveway, Meg could see the road. She stopped, looked around confused because she had not found her husband yet. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Wyatt!” As she turned to head back towards the house, the police jeep drove into her driveway. She stared at the cop vehicle as it pulled to a stop next to her.
“Mrs. Koehler.” The police officer asked as he rolled down his window. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She answered adding. “Did you find your missing man yet, Officer?”
“No, which is why we’re back.” He leaned his head out the window. “We’d like to talk to your husband and son again.”
“My husband’s outside here somewhere. I came out to find him but…” She glanced around then shrugged her shoulders. “My boy’s inside taking a nap.”
“Why don’t you hop in the backseat and we’ll drive you back up to your house?” The officer leaned forward to hit a button that popped up the locks on all the doors. Meg Koehler pulled the back door open then climbed in.
“Hello Mrs. Koehler.” The bald passenger greeted, waving at her through the mesh fence that separates the prisoners from the front seat.
“Hello Sir. I’m sorry you haven’t found your friend yet. It must be awful for you, wondering where he is?” The jeep started moving.
“Mrs., we weren’t telling anyone earlier because we didn’t want to arouse a group of treasure hunters but my friend, who went missing, was transporting a large sum of cash money which is also missing. The money wasn’t in his abandoned car.”
“I see.” The jeep pulled to a stop in front of Meg’s house. They all climbed out. “So you think foul play maybe involved?”
“We hope not.” The officer answered. “But the missing man, Sam Leech is known to be a very responsible person, who still hasn’t called home or tried to contact his office yet.”
“After traveling in last night’s brutal storm, Sam would know everyone’s worrying about him. Sam’s the kind of guy who would have called someone by now to let us know he was okay.” The bald man informed. “He was traveling to meet me. If Sam was able to contact me, I know he would have by now.”
“I can assure you, me and my family have not seen your missing man.”
“We’d really just like to talk to your Son for a second. He seemed to run out of the room rather fast the last time we were here, when we tried to show him Mr. Leech’s photograph.”
“Okay, but I doubt he’s going to know anything.” They headed up the shoveled walk way.
The big dog galloped across the deeply snow covered yard. He forged through the snow bank to crash onto the walkway just in front of Meg and the two men. “AHH!” Meg stepped back leaning into the two men’s arms. “Duke! You startled me.” She stepped forward as the dog walked towards her. She reached down to scratch the top of the animal’s head.
“What’s that in his mouth?” The bald man asked. They all bent to look closer.
“AAHHHH!...” Meg screamed, standing upright then plowing backwards, pushing her way between the two men to get away from the sight. The dog dropped the severed hand at the men’s feet. Ruff! Ruff! He barked then climbed back up the bank then raced across the lawn.
“Is that a glove?” The officer asked.
“It looks like a man’s hand.” The bald man, bent way over to stare.
“Is it a toy?” The cop asked.
“I think it’s real.” He made a disgusted face then straightened back up. Harvey used the tip of his boot to flip the hand over.
The officer knelt down to study the object. Using his gloved fingers he picked up the hand. “There’s a wedding band on his finger.” The officer announced standing up. “Mrs. Koehler?” He turned towards the distraught woman. “I hate to do this to you but I need you to look at this ring and tell me if it’s your husband’s wedding band.”
Scrunching up her face as if she was going to puke, Meg approached the policeman. She leaned over to study the hand then suddenly turned away shaking her head, no. “Wyatt wears a band that matches mine.” She held her hand up and back for the two men to see her gold band had fancy scrolling along its sides.
“We should all go inside.” The officer ordered. “Where, we can try to sort this out.”
Standing inside the front foyer of the house, Meg shouted. “Wyatt! Are you home?” There was no answer. The two men looked at each other as if exchanging thoughts. “Stay right there.” She ordered the guys. “While I get you a bag to put that disgusting thing in.” She motioned towards the severed hand he was still clutching then turned and walked towards her kitchen. “How about, I boil water for some coffee?”
“I could use a cup.” Harvey answered.
The men were whispering when she came back with a plastic garbage bag. She held the bag open so the officer could drop the hand inside. The police officer twirled the top of the bag shut then stated. “It’s fingerprints will tell us if it’s your friend’s hand.”
“Wait a second.” Harvey offered. “Most wedding bands have inscriptions on the inside.”
“You want to take the ring off?” Meg made a face. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you in my house with that thing.”
“Come on.” Harvey pleaded. “We’ll know right away if it’s Sam’s hand?”
The cop handed the bag to Harvey. Harvey turned then carried the bag into the living room. He sat on the edge of the couch leaning over the coffee table.
“Yuk!” Meg turned away as Harvey dumped the hand out on top of her coffee table. “I can’t watch this.” She headed back into the kitchen.
Harvey used his gloved hands to hold the severed hand and twist the ring off its finger. The ring slid off the frozen finger fairly easy. Harvey wiped the ring off with his gloved finger tips then held it up to his eye. Squinting he read “From Amelia May to Sam, with love.” Harvey looked up at the policeman. “It’s Harvey Leech’s hand alright. Sam’s wife’s name is Amelia May.” He placed the wedding band down on the table top.
Meg Koehler walked into her living room carrying a bottle of spray disinfectant and a roll of paper towels. “Please put that gross thing back in the bag, so I can disinfect my table.”
“That thing is my friend’s hand and I’d like to know what your husband did with the rest of Sam Leech?”
“What are you implying?” She looked from the bald man to the police officer. “My husband had nothing to do with that….hand!”
“Can I use your phone?” The police officer asked.
“Sure.” She pointed to the phone on the see through kitchen counter. “Make yourselves comfortable.” She added sarcastically then angrily. “I’m going to go check on my Son.” She stomped towards the stairs.
“I’d like to go with you.” Harvey stood up. “To ask him a few questions if I can.”
“No.”
“He may know something.”
“My Kyle doesn’t know anything!” She stomped up the stairs.
Harvey turned to listen to the police officer talking on the phone. “I need an all points bulletin put out on a Wyatt Koehler. He’s a murder suspect. He may be armed.” The policeman looked at Harvey. “You did say your friend, Mr. Leech carried a pistol. There’s a good chance Wyatt Koehler has his gun now along with the half a million dollars.”
Two hours later: Meg was sitting on her couch biting her nails as a slew of cops searched her home and trampled through her snow covered yard. “Do you still think your husband is coming back?” She just stared at the bald Harvey. “Your husband took my friend’s money and is long gone! He didn’t even offer to take you and little Kyle with him. If you know where he went, you’d better tell the police now!”
Doctor Rupert McGraw descended the staircase. “Doctor.” Meg Koehler shouted from the couch waving her hand. “How’s my boy?” “Yes,” Harvey asked. “Can we finally talk to the lad?”
Everyone gathered around the doctor listening to his diagnosis. “It is my opinion; the boy suffered a great psychological and emotional stress.”
“Yes, but can we talk to him?” Harvey asked again.
“He was bordering on going into shock, so I had to give him a sedative.”
“So that means we can’t question him to find out what he knows?”
“Not until tomorrow afternoon at the soonest.”
A tall distinguished man wearing a three piece suit, gently shut the front door then turned to address the group. “Detectives, can I have a word.” He ordered, waving his hand to direct them over to him. From different areas of the room, three men hustled over to form a huddle around the tall man. After about two minutes of whispering, one strong, squat man stepped out of the huddle to announce. “Pack up your stuff folks. We’re pulling out.”
Harvey jogged over. “What happened?” Meg moved closer so she could hear.
The distinguished man explained. “We found out where your husband disposed of the rest of his victim’s body parts.”
“No!” Meg shouted. “My Wyatt could not have done this!”
“We found his chainsaw sitting out on the ice in the middle of the frozen lake next to a large ice fishing type of hole.”
“The bastard!” Harvey shouted. “Your husband cut my friend up and fed him to the fishes!”
“If the dog didn’t snatch then run off with the victim’s hand.” The tall distinguished man mused. “We probably never would have figured out exactly what happened.” Meg ran to the garbage can in the corner of the room leaned over it then started throwing up. “Doc.” The smooth talking man pointed to Meg. “You might want to give her a sedative too.”
The distinguished looking man put his arm over Harvey’s shoulders. “Don’t worry man. He won’t get far. We got road blocks up on all the major freeways. We got his description out to every airport, bus stop, train station, tollbooth, from here to Canada and Mexico both. By morning his face will be plastered across every newspaper, worth its salt, from here to California. Someone’s going to spot him.”
From her squatting position on the floor with her arms wrapped around the garbage can, Meg watched the law men pack up their equipment and leave. When the last lawman was outside, she stood up then ran to the door. She grasped the bolt lock then locked it then slid the chain lock in place. She turned the little knob on the door knob locking it too then turned around and leaned her back against the door and sighed. Her hands covered her eyes as she began to cry.
There was a time when she would have never believed the man she married was capable of murdering anyone for any amount of money. But recently, they’d been under a lot of bill paying pressure. Wyatt had been passed over for a promotion at his job for the 2nd time and the factory where she worked had started laying people off for the first time in ten years. It seemed like lately they were always fighting about money. Had she driven him to do something so out of character, so terrible, so irresponsible that there was no turning back? “Wyatt, where are you?” She whispered as her back slowly slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor. “Call me please. I need to hear your voice.”
Outside, the big dog stood on top of a high snow drift watching the parade of police vehicles drive out of his driveway. When the last vehicle turned onto the street, the dog turned then leaped off the mound of snow. Duke trotted through the slush to the lake’s edge to an area where the wind had blown the powdery snow off the ice. “Duke!” The wind seemed to be whispering. “Duke!” The dog cautiously walked out onto the ice.
Under his paws the dog heard tapping then scratching. Looking down Duke saw his master submerged in the water under the ice. Wyatt’s gloved fists pounded on the ice as if he was trying to break through. Suddenly a bigger man was there under water wrestling with Wyatt. The dog growled at the men then scratched at the ice. The men’s limbs wrapped around each other. The bigger man was missing a hand. The dog watched as the big man’s good hand and fingers wrapped around Wyatt’s neck then squeezed tightly. Wyatt’s eyes bulged. Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked as the two men slowly sunk further and further underwater. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed! The dog turned then raced off the lake.
The dog galloped splashing snow and slush as he raced home. Lightning flashed, thunder cracked as Duke ran up the shoveled front path then trotted up the porch stairs. The dog whined and scratched at the front door.
Meg heard the scratching. “Duke?” She stood up smiling then unlocked the locks and the chain. Meg opened the door, the wet dog ran inside. She reached down to grab his collar but the dog was too fast. He raced past her and in a flash he had dripped water and slush across the living room. “Damn!” She watched the big animal run up the stairs. She heard his big paws thump down the hall then heard her son’s bedroom door squeak open. She shook her head in frustration as she hurried to relock the front door. Then, she heard the bedsprings squeak as the big lumbering dog must have leaped up onto her son’s bed. “Oh hell!” She shouted racing up the stairs carrying the dog’s, big, fluffy towel.
Entering the bedroom, she saw the big wet dog stretched out on top of the blanket next to her sound asleep son. She threw the towel on top of the dog then began drying him. “I should throw you back outside!” She scolded as she dried the animal the best that she could. “Lucky for you, I’m too scared to want to be in here alone tonight.”
Six months later: Meg and little Kyle Koehler were loading up a rented moving truck. They were moving to an apartment complex that allowed dogs. Meg couldn’t afford the bills for the large property on just her salary and the place was too big for just her, Kyle and a dog. Little Kyle carried the last box over to the back of the truck. He handed it to his mother who was inside the box. Meg turned then placed the small box into the pile then buckled the strap across to hold the stuff in place. She climbed out of the back of the truck then pulled the door closed. She turned then stared at the two-story house she had called home for over ten years.
They were leaving behind a lot of good memories but the one big bad memory kept clouding up all of the good thoughts. Deep down, she felt relieved. They needed a change, if they were going to put this place and what happened here behind them. Her husband had killed a man then ran off with the man’s money leaving them both behind to cope. Wyatt was now on the FBI’s most wanted list. So far, her son Kyle had never regained his ability to talk since that night. Meg wasn’t sure what her little boy had witnessed but she hoped moving would help Kyle forget and recover. Meg cupped her hands around her mouth then called “Kyle!" When he didn’t respond, she went looking for him.
Meg heard a scraping sound coming from around the side of the house. She walked around the corner to see her small boy struggling to push the dog’s house along the ground. “Oh no Honey!” She walked towards him to explain. “We’re not taking Duke’s house with us. We’re moving into an apartment complex. We don’t get our own backyard.” The kid kept pushing the dog house. Suddenly, the house jarred loose then slid forward a little bit. Meg saw her little son fall flat on his face in the grass.
“Oh my…” She raced to the boy. When she was closer, she noticed what had been preventing the dog house from sliding. Someone had dug a hole under the dog’s home and they hid a suitcase in the hole. “What in the world?” She grasped the handle of the suitcase then lifted it out of the hole. “Are you okay Son?” She turned to ask her Son. The boy shook his head yes. Meg lay the suitcase down in the grass then bent over to pop the latches.
Meg raised the suitcase lid. “Wow!” The young boy shouted staring at the suitcase full of money.
His Mom turned to him amazed. “Honey, you talked!”
“Where’d all that money come from?” The boy asked gawking.
She moved next to her, now talking, Son then hugged him. “I believe your father left us a present.” She squeezed her Son tightly. “Oh Wyatt!” Meg mumbled. “I knew you didn’t run off without us.” After a few minutes, Meg stood up. “Go round up Duke, Son.” She ordered. “We’re blowing out of this town.” She leaned over to re-latch the suitcase full of money then picked it up by its muddy handle. She started walking, towards the rental truck, swinging the suitcase. “With a half a million dollars, we should be able to afford a nicer dog house than that one.” She smiled.
Sam didn’t have the authority to call off or postpone a meeting of this magnitude and Sam knew in the eyes of Harvey and his associates, neither did Mother Nature. In fact, Sam didn’t even have a phone number where he could reach Harvey. Harvey always contacted Sam. “In case of an emergency, I’ll find you.” And he always did.
Sam turned the radio on. “The big news tonight is snow! Meteorologists are predicting anywhere from eight to sixteen inches by mid-morning. The roads are slick already so if you don’t absolutely have to be out driving, the State Police are recommending, stay home.”
“Great!” Sam clicked off the radio. He squinted peering at the headlights coming towards him. “Move the hell over buddy!” BEEP! Sam hit the horn. BEEP! BEEP! The truck swerved to the left. Sam jerked his steering wheel to the right. The car skidded just missing the tail end of the tractor-trailer. “Damn it! What the hell’s that guy doing out driving a big truck in a storm like this! What the hell am I doing out in this!”
Two sets of headlights came around the bend. BEEP! Sam hit the breaks. The car skidded sideways. He turned the wheel the other way trying to straighten it out but the car fishtailed back too far. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! He straightened the car out but had to pull all the way onto the other shoulder to get out of the way of the on coming traffic. As the two cars zoomed by, they splashed Sam’s windshield with piles of slush. “Damn!” The wipers were jammed. He pulled the car to a stop.
Sam climbed out then cleaned the slush off his windshield wipers with his bare hand. He climbed back in the driver’s seat then shifted into drive. The wheels just spun. “Oh no, I’m stuck!” He hit the gas pedal but the wheels just kept spinning. “Damn!” He pounded on the steering wheel. He stepped on the gas pedal again until he realized the back wheels were sliding farther off the shoulder of the road, towards the steep embankment. He shifted into park then climbed back out of the car. He walked around to the back. His back tires were sunk almost halfway down into the slush and snow. Using the side of his expensive wing tipped shoes, he scraped away the snow from in front of his two back tires. Then, he climbed back into the driver’s seat.
He eased the gearshift into fist gear then very lightly pressed the gas. The tires spun and the car skidded another few inches towards the embankment. “Damn!” He pounded on the steering wheel. “I’m stuck here for good, till next spring!” He pushed the button turning on the emergency flashers. “Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but wait till someone comes along and rescues me.” He turned the heater up then started to play around with the radio stations.
“With the storm clinging to the coast.” The newscaster announced. “Leechawanna County may end up with a lot more snow than originally predicted.”
“Oh great.” Sam glanced out the window. The snow was already coming down in bigger flakes. It had begun to cover the hood of the car. He rubbed his hands together in front of the warm heater vent then resolved himself to wait for the next car to come by.
Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, he waited but no cars. He began to worry. Hadn’t he heard that people died doing what he was doing right now, sitting in an idling car trying to stay warm? Somehow the exhaust fumes from the engine built up in the car asphyxiating them. He sniffed the air but didn’t smell anything unusual. Had he also heard that carbon dioxide was an odorless, colorless gas? Or, was that another poisonous gas? He wasn’t sure. But, if he turned off the car, he could freeze to death out here. His hands and feet were numb and the tips of his ears were tingling.
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an emergency message. The highway patrol has declared Leechawanna County in a state of weather emergency. Any cars driving on any state road will be ticketed except for emergency vehicles, police vehicles or vehicles belonging to the highway department.”
“Oh great! That’s why no cars have past me during the past twenty-five minutes. I have to get out of here.” He turned the car off then dropped the keys in his pants pocket. From under the front seat he pulled a 38 special revolver. Sam leaned forward then stuffed the pistol behind him, tucking it under his belt. Now came a decision. If he handcuffed the briefcase to his right wrist, anyone he met would have a heads up that he was carrying something valuable. If he didn’t use the cuffs, the ½ a million dollars would be a lot less secure. And he was about to walk out into a full blown, raging blizzard.
Sam reached for the briefcase on the seat beside him. He clicked one cuff to the briefcase handle. He fastened the other cuff to his right wrist. He grasped the handle, opened the door then stepped out into, almost one foot of snow. “Damn!”
He glanced up then down the snow, covered highway. “Well I don’t remember passing any shelter back that way. So, I’m going forwards.” He started walking.
After five minutes, he looked back over his shoulder but could no longer see the flashing hazard lights of his abandoned vehicle. “Damn it’s cold!” He pulled his left hand out of his pants pocket then raised his fingers to his face. He wiped away the layer of frost clinging to his cheeks and forehead. He debated whether he should turn around and head back to the car.
The moisture had immediately soaked through his dress shoes and socks. He knew from experience, it would not be long before his wet toes began to throb with pain. The tips of his right hand’s fingers were already hurting since they were constantly exposed to the elements while holding the briefcase’s handle. He glanced down and saw his knuckles were turning a dark red, which could not be good.
The thick falling snow was blinding. Sam turned his back towards a terribly harsh gust of wind then hunkered down bracing himself. His free hand searched for the handcuff key so he could switch hands and give his right hand some time to thaw out, in the warmth of his pants pocket. He found the key then pulled it out of his pocket. His hand shivered from the cold as his numb fingers tried to jiggle the key into the handcuff lock hole. A strong gust of wind bent him over. The tiny key slipped out of his fingers dropping into the snow. “No!” He shouted falling to his knees. His fingers sifted the snow trying to find the key. As the snow soaked through his pants, he realized it was hopeless. The key was gone. He’d never find it. He grasped the briefcase handle, stood up, ducked his head down then trudged determined straight into the wind and falling snow.
Around the next bend, he saw a mailbox on a bent pole. He squinted, gazing down what appeared to be a long driveway boarded by mounds of snow covered hedges, like thick, white, lumpy walls leading into the woods. The snow was coming down so thick, he couldn’t see too far ahead. His teeth started to chatter. He decided to follow the driveway. “If there’s a mailbox, there has to be a house or a building or something at the end of this path. I just hope it’s not too long of a driveway.” He had walked about 75 yards into the woods and was about to give up, turn around then head back out, when he saw a faint light. He tripped over something under the snow and stumbled. His feet slid out from under him. He landed in the snow on his side. “Uhg!” He rolled onto his hands and knees then lifted himself up. “You’re almost there. Get up Sam! Get up! Shelter’s just ahead. Keep going.”
He struggled to raise himself into a hunched over standing position. He took a small step with his left foot then dragged the briefcase behind him. His knee collapsed. He fell face down in the snow. His limbs jerked as he tried to raise himself but pain shot through his back. He flattened out defeated in the snow. The flakes continued to fall.
He gained his breath then tried again to rise but some of his lower vertebrae felt like they had locked. Snow began to cover his face and body. Desperate, he reached behind his back then pulled the pistol from his belt. Through the falling snow he stared at the faint glow of light coming from the window about 100 yards away. Hoping to attract someone’s attention, Sam raised the pistol pointing it straight up then pulled the trigger. BANG! BANG!
Inside the house, in the living room, in front of a blazing fireplace the black and tan, Labrador Retriever and Collie mix stood up then barked twice. Wyatt folded his newspaper then lay it down next to him on the couch. He turned to his wife, across the room. “Did you hear that?”
“Sounded like thunder.” The brunette picked up a towel, continuing to fold their laundry.
“Sounded like gun shots to me.” Their six year old son excitedly jogged into the room wearing only his pajama pants.
Wyatt stared out the window at the big flakes of snow. “It was probably just a plow truck backfiring.” He reached for the curtain cord then pulled it, shutting the drapes. “Go back to bed, Son. Remember we have to be up early tomorrow, if I’m going to teach you how to ice fish.”
The next morning, the snow had stopped falling. “Yeah! No school!” Little Kyle shouted staring out through the front picture window. The six year old was wearing his shiny, blue, one piece, goose down insulated, water repellant coveralls, mid-shin high black rubber Velcro closing boots, big, puffy, boxing glove style mittens and he already had his hood up over his head with the ties tied tightly under his chin.
“Don’t forget your scarf dear.” His Mom raced over to wrap the long colorful knit scarf around her boy’s neck.
“Oh Mom!”
“Jeez Meg! Don’t suffocate the Lad.” Wyatt smiled buttoning up his own jean jacket. “The kid looks like he’s wearing some kind of outer-spacesuit.”
“Well, it’s the first snow of the year and I don’t want him catching a cold.” She kissed the boy on the cheek. “Now you be careful out there and mind your father!”
“Here Duke!” The black Lab/Collie mix came running from somewhere in the back of the house, his nails click clacking on the hardwood floor. Wyatt opened the front door then laughed watching the big mutt lunge off the porch then, bound through the twelve inch high snow.
“Wait for me Duke!” Shouted Kyle, ducking under his Dad’s arm to race ambitiously after the dog, his best pal.
“Keep your eye on them two!” Meg warned then headed into the kitchen.
Wyatt stepped out onto the porch to watch his two charges frolicking in the clean innocent looking white powder. The dog ran to a big oak tree to take a long leak. The boy ran to a three food high snowdrift then dove headfirst into it. The boy crawled out of the snow drift laughing. The dog ran over to lick the kid’s face. “It’s going to be a long day.” Wyatt thought as he pulled his knit cap down over his forehead and ears.
The big, blotchy, tan and black dog turned then raced down the long, curving driveway crashing through the snow. Little Kyle ran as fast as he could in the deep snow, chasing the dog. “Don’t go near the street Kyle!” Wyatt ordered. “And stay off the lake!”
“Okay Pop.” Kyle agreed.
“Kids?” Wyatt watched the boy disappear around the curve then he headed to the garage to get a shovel
Wyatt was just finishing clearing off the path from the garage to the front porch when he heard Little Kyle scream. “Daddy! Daddy!” Wyatt dropped the shovel then ran. His boots thumped through the snow as he headed towards his son’s voice. “Daddy!” As he rounded the first curve in the driveway he saw his son standing about 50 yards away in the middle of the driveway apparently crying.
“I’m coming Kyle!” He shouted reassuring. “Daddy’s coming!” Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!...Wyatt’s boots smashed the snow as he ran to his boy. “Are you okay, Son?” Kyle shook his head yes. “Thank God.” Wyatt kneeled down in the snow in front of his sobbing boy to give him a hug. “What happened? Why are you crying Kyle?”
The boy grunted involuntarily as he turned around to point. Wyatt looked where his son was pointing. He saw Duke about thirty yards away lying on his belly in the snow under a big oak tree. “Is Duke okay?” The boy just kept pointing and grunting. “Okay Son, relax. Daddy will take care of it. You stay here.” Wyatt jogged towards the family dog.
The dog stood up, barked a few times then lay back down putting his head between his paws. “Are you okay Duke?” Wyatt wondered out loud as he jogged closer. “What’s wrong Boy?” Duke stood up, barked then stooped his head down to lick something in the snow. “What did you find there boy?” Wyatt asked as he stepped closer. “Oh my gosh!” The dog was licking a hand sticking out of the snow? “Get away from there!” Wyatt waved his hand at the animal. The dog whined but moved back a few yards.
Wyatt kneeled down in the snow next to the hand staring and trying to figure out if it was real or a part, off a big doll or manikin. With his gloved hands, Wyatt began to dig around the frozen hand. Scooping snow out of the way, Wyatt quickly realized there was a whole man’s arm buried in the snow. He kept digging. The arm was connected to a shoulder. The back of an Adult man’s torso came into view. Slowing down, to be more careful, Wyatt brushed the snow away from a lump of snow to reveal the side of a middle aged man’s frozen face. In shock, Wyatt stared at the dead face trying to place it. He was pretty sure he’d never seen the man before.
“Dad?” Asked the squeaky, frail voice of Wyatt’s son as he stepped beside his Father to look. “Is he dead?”
Wyatt turned to his boy. “Yes.” Wyatt stood up then took his son’s mitten in his gloved hand. “You’re being very brave Kyle.” The boy kept staring at the frozen man’s face.
“Who is he Pop?”
“I’m going to try to figure that out Son. But, first, I need you to go stand over by that tree.” Wyatt pointed a few yards away.
“Okay.” Wyatt watched his boy turn then trudge his way through the snow, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He wondered how seeing his first dead person at such an early age was going to affect his little boy later.
Wyatt turned back to the cadaver to see the big dog standing on the other side of the dead man leaning over and gently licking his frozen face. “Duke! No! Get away! That’s disgusting!” Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket then pulled out a leash. He stepped over to the dog, leaned over to grasp the animal’s collar then clicked the leash to his collar. “Come.” Wyatt tugged the dog. He lead the dog over to his son. “I need you to keep Duke over here with you Son. He handed little Kyle the leash. “We don’t want Duke catching a disease from licking the dead man.”
“I got him Pop.” Kyle replied, happy to be able to help. Reluctantly, Wyatt turned then headed back to the frozen man.
Sam Leech sat on a thick tree branch about 13 feet above the snow covered ground, shivering and hugging the trunk of the tree. “Finally it’s stopped snowing!” He said angrily releasing his grip on the tree trunk. He brushed the snow off his designer overcoat. “I’ve got to get to a telephone. People are going to be worrying about me.” He twisted his waist so he could grab the tree trunk again. He scooted his butt off the branch then began to climb down. He jumped the last few feet. His wing tipped shoes smashed through the frosted top layer of snow crashing through the powder to thrust into the thick, heavy, wet, slush below.
“Yuk!” He pulled his right foot out of the muck then banged the shoe against the tree trunk to knock off some of the freezing gunk. He repeated the procedure with his left shoe.
Head down and mumbling, Sam Leech stomped through the snow and slush, trudging off the lawn then onto the long driveway. Crunch, crunch, crunch…His soaked, wing tipped shoes crashed through the frozen top layer to squash into the freezing, wet, heavy, goo below. “My feet and hands are numb.” A cold fierce gust of wind blew from behind, nudging him to keep walking. He pulled the long overcoat’s wide collar, tighter around his neck tucking his chin down.
The driveway curved and Sam heard faint voices. He looked up to see, about thirty yards away, a grown man, a little boy and a large blotchy dog on a leash. “Hey!” Sam shouted, but his throat was hoarse and the wind drowned him out. “Over here! I need help!” He waved his hands but they didn’t notice him. “I’m saved!” He sighed jubilantly continuing to stumble towards the trio, his saviors.
As Sam approached them, a storm cloud drifted in front of the sun, everything got darker and colder. The wind blew harder. A bolt of lightning flashed in the ski. “Wow! Did you see that dad?” Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked tugging slightly against the leash in Sam’s direction. The man and the boy looked over directly at Sam then turned away as if going back to continue their conversation.
“Please help me.” Sam pleaded to their turned backs. “I’ve been outside walking all night in this storm. I’m so cold!” He wheezed. “I don’t think I can walk another step.” He fell to his knees in the snow pleading. “Help!...I’m begging!”
The man stood up then walked towards Sam. “Thank you.” Sam started to say, but the man brushed right past Sam then kept going without even a nod. “What? Sir, please!” Sam shouted at the man’s back. “I’m desperate!” The man kept walking. “That’s rude.” Sam mumbled. “How can you be so cruel?!” Sam turned to look at the boy. “Son, go get me help!” The boy just stared after his father ignoring Sam. “Please kid!”
Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked at Sam.
“What’s wrong with you!” Sam struggled to stand back up. “I’m a fellow human being who’s in need. I deserve some compassion!” Sam saw the man kneel down in the snow. Indignant, Sam stumbled towards him. “Help me Sir! I’m begging you!” Coming closer Sam saw the man was Kneeling next to an adult body half covered in snow. “Oh my!” Sam watched the man start digging around the body with his gloved hands.
“I’m sorry.” Sam apologized. “Now I see. That explains everything. That guy’s worse off than me. Why didn’t you just say you were already tending to a casualty? I would have understood.” Sam fell to his knees beside Wyatt. Sam watched Wyatt resume scooping snow away from the body.
Wyatt’s hand bumped something hard in the snow. He reached for the clump then quickly realized it was a pistol caked in hard ice. He moved the gun aside remembering the two gun shots he’d thought he’d heard last night. The sounds he’d so quickly dismissed as a truck backfiring. He turned to stare at the back of the cadaver’s head wondering out loud. “Who are you mister?”
“Woo,,,a gun?” Sam said. “He could be a criminal? Or a lawman? But not everyone who carries a gun is a criminal or lawman. After all, I carry a gun too, for protection.” Sam reached behind himself to his pants waist band. “Oh my. I must have lost my gun last night during the storm.”
Wyatt hooked both his gloved hands under the cadaver’s armpits then lifted the head and torso up and out of the snow. Sam could see that the storm victim was a well dressed, white man about his own age. “Pore fellow.” Sam muttered. “But a snappy dresser. That looks like an expensive overcoat he’s wearing.” He tugged his own overcoat tighter around his neck
.
Wyatt twisted the body trying to turn it onto its back. That’s when he noticed the man’s right wrist was handcuffed and the chain led under the snow. “What the hell?” Wyatt dropped the body then stepped closer to examine the handcuffed wrist.
“A handcuff?” Sam reached for his own right wrist remembering last night, having handcuffed his briefcase full of money to his own wrist before he abandoned his car then walked out into the blizzard. But there was no handcuff on Sam’s wrist now and his briefcase full of money was gone! “Huh?” He wondered. “Did the guy in the snow take my gun and briefcase last night?” Sam tried to remember but everything was so vague.
Wyatt dug the chain out of the snow, grasped a hold of the chain with his glove then pulled. Out of the snow emerged a leather briefcase.
“That’s my briefcase!” Sam exclaimed, leaning over to examine the luggage closer. “That man must have stolen it from me!” Sam pointed accusingly at the man lying face down in in the snow.
Wyatt leaned over the cadaver. “Who the hell are you?” He grasped the dead guy’s shoulder then rolled him onto his back.
“Yes, who are you?!” Sam echoed maneuvering into a better position to get a look at the man’s frozen face. “AHH!...” Sam stood up, his swollen, numb hands covering his eyes as he stumbled backwards. Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked. “It can’t be?!...How?..” Sam peeked through his fingers. “But I’m right here?”
Knelling next to the torso, Wyatt grasped the flaps of the dead man’s overcoat. He ripped the coat open sending buttons flying into the snow. He stuck his gloved hands inside the jacket patting the man down. He found the wallet in an upper inside jacket pocket. He pulled out the wallet then pulled off his right glove. Using his bare fingers he flipped through the wallet. Behind a group of family photos Wyatt found a New Jersey Driver license. He pulled it out then read. “Sam J Leech, address 1342 Atlantic Ave, Ocean City, New Jersey.”
Hearing the man read his name, Sam began to sob. He stumbled back to the dead man to stare at his own sad looking, frozen face. “No!......”
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked then growled. “Easy Duke!” Little Kyle consoled tugging back on the dog’s leash. “He can’t hurt us, Boy. Not anymore.”
Glancing at the birthdate on the license Wyatt figured out Sam Leech was, “51, the same age as me, only you Mr. Leech won’t be getting any older.” Wyatt pulled a business card out then read. “Zacker, Finettie and Leech Industrial Development Corp. Atlantic City Division, Sam J Leech President.” He closed the man’s wallet then stuffed it into his own jacket pocket. “Okay Mr. Big Wig, Industry Consultant all the way from Atlantic City, what do you have in your briefcase that’s so important you handcuffed it to your wrist?” Wyatt resumed searching the man’s cloths, this time looking for keys to unlock the handcuffs and briefcase. “Something inside must be pretty valuable.”
“Get away from him!...Away from me!” Sam shouted. “You vulture!”
“Ah,” Wyatt smiled. He pulled a ring of keys out of the dead man’s right pants pocket.
“Those are my personal keys!” Sam shouted indignantly.
Looking at the keys then the handcuffs, Wyatt quickly realized the keys were all too big to open the handcuffs. Wyatt pulled the briefcase closer to try the keys out. He saw it was locked with a combination lock. “Damn!”
“You don’t need to know what’s inside my briefcase!” Sam shouted at the man. “When are you going to call 911? A man is dead here! My relatives and my associates need to be informed!” A tear dripped from Sam’s eye.
Wyatt pulled his other glove off then unzipped his jacket. He reached inside his jacket then pulled out a metal fold up knife. He flicked his wrist making the blade swing out. Click, it locked in place. “What are you going to do with that?” Sam shouted at him. Wyatt pulled the briefcase close to him then began to jab the point of the knife into the latches. “Ha! That’s a very expensive top of the line security briefcase Fellow. The salesman claimed it could not be picked.”
Wyatt began jabbing, twisting, prying and sawing the latches and hinges with his knife, After about five minutes with no results, Wyatt jabbed the briefcase in the middle of its top then sliced through the leather covering. He peeled the leather back to find, “Steel? Damn! No wonder this briefcase is so heavy”
“Ha! See?” Sam shouted at the man. “You can’t break in, with a mere pocket knife! I tried to tell you, it’s a top of the line security briefcase, Dope!”
“Ruff! Ruff!” The dog started barking.
Sam Leech turned to the dog and the boy. “You can see me doggie?” He walked towards them.
“Growl!” The dog showed his teeth then whined, then backed up as far as the leash would allow him to pull.
“What do you see?” Sam stepped in front of the boy. He opened his palm right in front of the lad’s face and eyes then waved his hand. The boy didn’t respond. “So, only the dog can see me!”
“Growl!”
“Kyle, Are you two okay over there?” The man shouted over his shoulder.
“Yes Dad.”
“Listen Son, I want you to turn all the way around and look the other way for a few minutes okay. Turn away from me now and look out at the lake. Do you understand? I’ll tell you when it’s okay to look over here again.”
“Okay Dad.” The kid turned around to look out at the lake.
“Why?” Sam turned back to see the man stretching his dead body’s arm out in the snow. “What are you thinking?” He watched the man toss the briefcase aside on the snow then slide it away from the hand so the handcuff chain became taunt. The man rolled back the sleeve of the cadaver’s overcoat revealing the pale and gray skin of Sam’s frozen wrist. Wyatt picked up his knife.
“Don’t even think about trying that!” Sam ran over to the man and made a grab with both hands for the man’s hand holding the knife. Sam’s hands went straight through the other man’s hand, and he was left grasping air and accomplishing nothing. Gasping, Sam straightened his back up then threw two quick punches at the man’s head. Sam’s fists went through the man’s head coming out the other side, again doing nothing. “No!” Sam shouted with frustration. Desperate Sam tried to kick the man in the side but his foot and leg sailed through the man as if nothing was there leaving Sam unbalanced then he slipped, falling into the snow.
“Don’t do it!” Sam’s spirit sobbed, crawling over to place his face within inches of where the man was holding his knife, pressing the blade against Sam’s dead body’s wrist.
What was strange was Sam felt a piercing pain as he watched the man pressed the knife blade deeper sinking into Sam’s gray flesh. “AHHHH!!!!” Sam shouted as the man began to saw the blade back and forth. Not understanding why as a ghost he was able to feel the pain, Sam rolled away from the scene. He grasped his wrist, stood up then screamed as he ran in a circle. “AAHHHH!!!!”
The dog jumped up then turned and ran, yanking his leash out of little Kyle’s hand. “Duke!” The boy watched his dog run off towards the house. Yelp!...Yelp!...
“Don’t turn around yet Kyle!” His dad ordered then grunted as the knife blade hit bone.
“AAAHHH!!!” Sam continued to yell, squeezing his right wrist with his left hand and stomping his legs in the snow. “What kind of a ghost am I?” He wept, hunched over, his left hand cradling his right arm. “I only scare dogs and I feel pain when my dead body is cut?” He glanced down at his wrist and saw blood bubbling out of the cut. The blood was painting the snow red but Sam wondered if he was the only one who could see the red goo?
Kneeling next to the body, Wyatt hacked and sawed away at the stubborn wrist joint. Sam Leech ran to a pile of snow then thrust his bleeding extremity deep into the freezing white powder hoping the cold would numb some pain. “Ahhh!...” Sam sighed. “Awww!!...”
“Almost done.” Wyatt sliced through the last rubber band like tendons then watched the severed hand fall to the ice covered snow. The hand slid down the side of the icy bank on its palm, its fingers wiggling like a runaway spider. “Yuk!” Wyatt leaned over with the knife then stabbed the hand in its back. The fingers spread out like a speared ocean crab. He picked the hand up like a big bug on a stick then flicked the severed hand into the hole from which he had drug the frozen man out of.
Wyatt wiped the knife blade off in the snow then folded the knife blade back up into its handle. He dropped the knife into his inner jacket pocket. He reached for the man’s forearm stump then slid the tight handcuff off the forearm. Wyatt rolled the man’s body back into the hole he had come out of, on top of his severed hand.
Wyatt stood up then began kicking snow over top of the dead man, reburying him where the dog had found him. “What the hell are you doing?” The dead man’s ghost asked, pulling his arm out of the pile of snow to stare at his coagulated stump. “You’re reburying me?”
Wyatt picked his gloves up out of the snow then pulled them back on to protect his hands. He kneeled next to the snow grave then began heaping and shoveling handfuls of snow in, around and on top of the dead body. “Why are you reburying me?” Sam Leech’s spirit asked as he watched Wyatt pack the snow down tight over top of his corpse.
“If Duke could sniff you out,” Wyatt mumbled, unknowingly answering the ghost’s question. “I don’t want any other animals coming along and digging you up.” He patted down then smoothed out the mound of snow he had piled on top of the grave. “Not before I come back to dispose of you properly.” Wyatt stood up then stepped back to stare at the pile of snow. He walked towards the woods then stopped by a leafless bush. He grasped a handful of thin tangled branches then twisted them then bent them to break them off. He carried the branches back to the grave. Wyatt spread the branches over top of the grave to camouflage it.
“Why are you hiding me?” The spirit wondered. “I don’t get it?”
As if he had heard the ghost’s question, Wyatt gazed down the driveway. “We can’t have some snoop stumbling onto you now. Not with your hand cut off. That might raised some people’s suspicions.” Wyatt bent to pick up the briefcase. “Now let’s go find out what treasure you’re hiding in here. I hope you contain something that is worth all this trouble.”
“Oh, so it’s all about my briefcase.” The Spirit hissed as he jogged to catch up to Wyatt. “You don’t even know if there’s anything valuable inside, but you didn’t hesitate cutting my hand off to get at it! You sick bastard!” Sam swung his good hand at the back of Wyatt’s head. The Spirit’s fist went through Wyatt’s head like it was air, doing absolutely nothing, not even messing up the part in Wyatt’s hair. “Oh!” Sam shouted then stared up at the ski. “Why am I here?...Why?”
“Son are you okay?” Wyatt walked up beside little Kyle then placed his hand on his boy’s shoulder. The child turned towards Wyatt to hug his Dad’s waist. “You are a very brave boy and I’m very proud of you. Can you do me one more thing, Kyle?” The kid stared up at his Dad’s face. “Can you keep this all a secret?” The kid just stared. “We don’t want to upset your Mother. You know how Mom’s get.”
“Will Mommy be scared?”
“Yes, which is why we can never, ever tell her. In fact we can’t tell anyone else about the dead body. This will just be our special secret. Okay?”
“Okay.” The boy smiled.
Wyatt took hold of his son’s mitten covered hand. “Let’s go get some hot chocolate?”
“Okay.” They began to trudge through the deep snow back towards their house.
“Noooooo!...” Sam Leech’s ghost shouted. “That’s my money!” He raced at Wyatt like a football player about to make a tackle. “I won’t let you have it!” Sam made a grab for the briefcase but his hands went straight through the briefcase coming out the other side as if no briefcase was even there. He dove at Wyatt wrapping his arms around the man’s midsection. But his arms sailed straight through Wyatt as if he was made of mist. Sam hopped to the side to avoid plowing into the boy. The ghost’s right foot slid on the ice. Sam lost his footing falling hard into a tree trunk. THUD! The snow above him in the tree’s branches fell covering Wyatt and his Son.
“Ha, ha, ha…” Little Kyle laughed as he brushed the snow off his hat and shoulders.
“Oh, you think that’s funny aye?” Wyatt scooped up a handful of powder then tossed it at his Son. His son leaned down to scoop up a handful of snow. Meanwhile, Sam Leech’s spirit was astonished by the fact that he had caused the snow to fall from the top of the tree. Sam was dead. He was invisible. But, was it possible for him to affect the physical world he had, for some reason, only partially left? He stood up, wrapped his arms around the tree trunk then shook the tree with all his might and frustration. A grumbling came from above. Wyatt and Kyle heard the noise. Wyatt instinctively grasped his Son’s mitten hand then started to run, pulling the boy along as the heavy wet snow crashed down from branch to branch.
THUNK! The wet snow covered the man and boy appearing as if a small white cloud had lowered to engulf them. The snow and slush hit with such force and weight it knocked them both to their knees then splashed in all directions. Sam Leech delightedly continued to shake the tree trunk so more powder fell on top of his victims. “I’m not powerless! I can’t punch or hit people. And, only the dog can see or hear me. But I’m not powerless!” He shook the tree then watched the last bit of powder fall dusting the man and his boy.
The boy stood up first, brushing the wet slush off his coat. “Wow! Dad, that was awesome!”
Hands on his knees, Wyatt fought to regain his breath as he glanced at his boy’s smiling face. “Yeah, awesome.” He looked up at the now bare branches of the tree overhead.
“Like being hit by an avalanche!” Little Kyle exclaimed.
“Avalanches are much more fun.” Wyatt teased as he struggled to his feet. He grabbed the briefcase handle with one hand then his Son’s mitten hand with his other. “Let’s go get out of these wet close and ask Mommy to heat us up some hot soup.” He started walking towards home, tugging his son along beside him.
“Did you ever get hit by an avalanche Dad?”
“Oh sure, plenty of times.” Wyatt laughed.
“No you didn’t!” Little Kyle argued. “I’m going to ask Mom when we get home.”
“Okay, ask Mom. Just remember, we have our little secret that we aren’t going to tell anybody. Right?”
“Right Pop.” Kyle smiled. “Just between us boys”
Sam Leech waited until the man and his son were halfway underneath the umbrella like branches of the next big tree before he started shaking the tree’s trunk. This time Wyatt immediately realized what the grumbling noise over head was. He quickly bent over then scooped his son up in his arms then back stepped holding the boy as the heavy slush and snow crashed to the ground inches in front of their toes. SPLASH! Slush and moisture recoated the father and son’s clothing. “Wow!” The boy laughed. “You saved me Dad!”
“Yeah,” Wyatt put his son down. “Let’s go this way.” He pointed down a trail where there were no trees to pass under that led to their long driveway.
“Okay. I’ll race you home!” Wyatt’s son took off running through the deep snow.
“Kids!” Wyatt muttered then shouted. “Be careful Son!” Wyatt walked swinging the briefcase with a carefree attitude. He was anxious to get the locked case back to his work bench. He had good vibes that there was something valuable inside and he could not wait to crack it open. He began to whistle as he trudged through the snow.
Sam Leech’s Spirit jealously watched the man joyfully heading towards the warmth, comfort and shelter of his nice sized cozy looking house. He watched with envy, little Kyle on the porch petting the dog, by the front door. He wished he too could get out of his wet clothes. He wished he could enjoy a hot meal in front of a warm fireplace. But, Sam Leech knew, those days were over for him. He sensed, his destiny was outside here in the cold. He shivered. Somehow, he was trapped in a state of transition, somewhere between dead and alive. He was confused. “Damn! I was a failure most of the time when I was alive. And, now, I messed up dying too!” He wondered. “Am I being punished for something I screwed up while I was alive? What did I do?!”
Sam’s spirit kicked the slushy snow in frustration, as he tried to figure out what was happening to him. He guessed somehow the magnitude of last night’s storm was responsible. Something in the fierceness of the storm’s makeup must have disrupted something in the cosmos which postponed his spirit from completing its journey to the beyond. “But what?” He had frozen to death. His spirit had left his body but then instead of going on to complete its journey the storm had confused things and his spirit had sought shelter from the storm while still on earth. He didn’t know how it had happened or why? And, he wondered if it was permanent. Was he doomed to walk the earth for eternity, invisible only to be seen and heard by dogs and perhaps some other animals? He shivered at the thought. But, if no, then, how long would he be here? “Is this a test?!” He shouted up at the heavens. An after death test that he had to pass before he could move on? He was frightened, angry and lonely but most of all frustrated. He had questions and there seemed to be rules to this ghostly state he’d been abandoned in, but no one had given him the instruction manual.
About an hour later, Sam Leech’s ghost was interrupted from the nap he was taking, up in the tree branches, above his grave, by the sound of vehicles driving up the still snow covered driveway. Sam yawned. His good arm and hand wrapped tighter around the tree trunk while he used his stump arm to separate two branches. He stretched his neck so he could peer through the branches towards the main road. “Well, well, here comes the cavalry.” He muttered eyeing a jeep with police lights on its roof driving up the driveway followed by a black, four wheel drive, Ford pickup truck. Both vehicles had snow chains wrapped around their tires. They were splashing snow to their sides like the wake of a speed boat at high gear, zipping through the bay.
“This should be interesting.” Sam mumbled as he climbed down the tree trunk. The spirit ran through the snow, waving his hand and stump, hoping that one of the drivers could see him. He raced into the middle of the driveway but the vehicles did not slow or swerve. He saw a glimpse of the driver’s police cap and mustached face then the police jeep’s bumper slammed into his waist. As the jeep drove through the ghost’s body, Sam saw only white static like when a television loses reception. He felt a slight electric tingle for a moment then regained his sight. Seconds later, the pickup truck plowed into him. Sam recognized the bald head and stern face of his business partner, Harvey Redfield, who was steering then Sam saw bright white static and felt tingling electric vibrations as the pickup truck passed all the way through him.
“Harvey!” Sam Leech gasped, sucking in air. He was bent over with his elbows resting on his knees, as he struggled to regain his breath. The two cars driving through the ghost’s body had weakened him considerably but had not caused him any real damage. Sam stood up straight, turned around then jogged after the two vehicles.
Rounding the last bend in the driveway, Sam Leech’s Spirit saw the jeep and the pickup truck parked in front of the house. Bald Harvey Redfield was talking to the police officer as they walked up the shoveled walkway towards the front porch. Sam raced as fast as he could, kicking up snow and slush, to catch up to them. He wasn’t going to miss a second of the coming conversation or the look on the man’s face when he realized the cops and Harvey were already onto him. “Boy Harvey,” The ghost thought. “I got to hand it to you. You sure found me fast. I guess when a half million dollars is at stake, people don’t mess around.”
Knock, knock, knock! The police officer hammered the front door with his gloved fist. “This is the closest house to where we found your friend’s car.” The officer said to Harvey. “I’m hoping that when he abandoned his car your friend Mr. Leech walked here and found sanctuary from the blizzard.” Sam Leech’s ghost listened to their conversation while squatting in the bushes in front of the porch.
“Wow, this cop was good.” Sam thought. “He got everything right except, I never made it this far.”
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! The dog started barking from inside the home. “Quiet!” A woman shouted then called out softer. “Who is it?”
“Police Miss. We’re checking up on everyone after last night’s storm.”
“Oh, give me a second.” The door opened the few inches the security chain would allow. “Hello.” A brunette wearing a yellow printed housedress smiled shyly as she peeked through the space. “We’re all fine inside here officers. It’s very nice of you to come around asking.”
“It’s good to hear you’re all okay, Miss. We found a car abandoned on the side of the road a few hundred yards south of your driveway. It appears as if the driver slid off the road then got stuck in the deep snow during the storm last night. We’re trying to locate the driver and we thought maybe he walked over here to use your phone or to seek shelter?”
“No one came knocking during the storm and you two are the first visitors we’ve had today.”
“Would you mind looking at his photograph?”
“Yes of course.” She closed the door then unlatched the chain. “Where are my manners? Come in.” The officer and the burley bold man stomped the snow off their boots then stepped through the doorway into the small foyer.
“Wait for me.” Sam Leech’s ghost hustled up the front porch stairs then over to the front door. As the police officer shut the door behind him, the spirit grasped the doorknob then walked straight through the closing door. Vvvvvvvvv…He felt the electric like vibrations surge through his body.
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” The woman asked.
“No, but thank you.” The bald man held up the photo of the missing Sam Leech.
“Oh, it wouldn’t do any good for me to look at him. I haven’t left the house yet today. But my husband and my son were outside shoveling and playing in the snow all morning. Maybe they saw your man. Wait here and I’ll go round up the boys.”
“Thanks Miss…?”
“Koehler, Meg Koehler.”
“Wyatt, Kyle!” She turned shouting as she headed back into her living room. “We have visitors Boys!” She crossed the room then opened a door that led down a set of stairs. “Boys, the police are here. They want to talk to the two of you. Come on up.”
Stepping up behind the two men, Sam Leech’s ghost put his good arm around the burley bald man’s shoulders. “Harvey, I hope you are going to avenge me?” Sam held his scabbed, decapitated, blood oozing, stump up in front of Harvey’s face. “He cut my hand off!” A tear started to roll out of the corner of the ghost’s eye. “I want him to pay!”
“Ruff! Ruff!” The dog trotted over to check out the visitors. When he saw the Spirit, he started growling.
“Duke!” The woman shouted. “Leave the nice men alone!” The dog turned then raced back through the living room then dashed down the back hallway. Wyatt pushed open the basement door then stepped onto his living room carpet with his plaid slip on bedroom slippers. He wore a floor length flannel robe. Behind his father cowered little Kyle, wearing mickey mouse pajamas, clinging to his Dad’s robe with both hands.
Wyatt studied the two men standing by his front door. “What can we do for you fellows?”
“We’re looking for a man called Samuel Leech. His car was abandoned a few hundred yards away from the entrance to your driveway. Harvey held up the photo. “Have either of you seen this man?” The boy let go of his Dad’s robe then turned then raced down the same hallway the dog had gone.
“Kyle!” His mother shouted after him. “Mind your manners, Son!” She turned to the two men. “I’m sorry. He’s shy.”
“He didn’t see anything.” Wyatt answered for the boy. “Neither of us saw anyone today. We never left our own property. You saw how long our driveway is, when you drove up. And, quite frankly, I don’t allow my kid or the dog to venture anywhere near the main road because it’s dangerous. So…”
“Thank you guys,” The police officer smiled. “For your time and help.” He turned then headed towards the door. Harvey reluctantly, re-placed the photo inside his inner leather jacket pocket then followed the officer out.
“Is that it?” The Spirit scolded. “You’re giving up already?!” The ghost followed the men out onto the porch then down the front stoop stairs.
“Did you see that little boy bolt?” Harvey shook his head. “I think that kid knows something!”
“Knows what?" The policeman looked back at Harvey. “They seem like a nice average family to me. What could they know? Do you think they have your Buddy locked up in their basement?”
“No. But, you have to admit, it was odd the way the lad ran off.”
“Young kids are odd.”
“Don’t go!” The ghost shouted as he watched Harvey and the police officer climb into their separate vehicles. “These people have our money!” Sam pointed his stump at the house. The two vehicles drove away splashing snow and slush onto the ghost’s pants. “Damn!”
Twenty minutes later, the front door opened. Wyatt stepped out onto the porch carrying two halves of the mangled briefcase. The ghost opened his eyes then looked over from his prone position where he’d been lying across the swinging porch bench in the far corner of the porch.
“So I see you got my money out.” The spirit sat up on the bench. “News flash Buddy! You ain’t going to spend a dime of my money! My associate Harvey is on to you and your punk boy. Harvey will be back. He’s like a bloodhound once he gets a whiff. Old Harv will not allow a half a million dollars to just disappear into thin air.” The spirit watched Wyatt reach back inside the doorway then lift out what looked like a motorized chain saw.
“What are you planning now?” The ghost watched Wyatt gather up the broken pieces of Sam’s briefcase into his right gloved hand then pick up the chainsaw with his left hand. The ghost stood up then followed Wyatt as he headed off trudging through the snow.
“Don’t you have a conscience?” The ghost walked behind the man, badgering him, even though the ghost knew the man didn’t hear anything he said. “It’s not your money. You didn’t earn any of it. If you turn the money in now, the cops will go easy on you.” Sam looked at his stump. “All you did was cut off a dead man’s hand. “Mangling a corpse, how much time would you have to do for that? After all you didn’t kill me. The blasted snow did that!” He kicked the snow. “You realize if you continue to conceal evidence and keep on lying to them, the cops are going to start wondering if maybe you did murder me to get to what was in my briefcase. But, for some reason, I don’t think Harvey told them about the briefcase full of money yet. If I was you, I’d take my chances with the cops. Harvey’s got a nasty temper.”
The man stopped walking. He dropped the briefcase parts in the snow then laid down the chainsaw. The ghost looked around then quickly realized they were standing in the middle of the lake, on the ice, which was covered by snow.
The man stooped over then began scooping up handfuls of snow. He tossed the snow aside, quickly digging down to the ice. He cleared a circle, a little bit bigger than a garbage can lid. “ Ah.” The ghost acknowledged. “I see what you’re up to.”
The man picked up the chainsaw. He pulled the cord starting the gas engine. “You are going to get rid of the evidence.” The ghost stated as he watched the man rev the saws engine a few times. Wyatt lowered the chain blade towards the ice. Gggrrrr… He ground away at the ice with the chain blade. The heavy duty chainsaw ripped through the ice like butter, sending chips of ice flying in all directions. In a few minutes, the man turned off the saw then lay it aside. He stooped to lift chunks of ice out of the hole. The ghost peaked over Wyatt’s shoulder to see a nice size ragged edged hole with water in the bottom and ice chips floating in the water.
Wyatt twisted then reached for the broken parts of the briefcase. He dropped the parts of the briefcase into the water then pushed them underwater with his gloved hand until they sunk out of sight.
“Oh, you’re smart.” The ghost shouted. “But, you’ll get caught. Criminals always do.” He watched Wyatt stand up then reach into his jacket pocket. Wyatt pulled out the dead man’s pistol. He tossed the pistol into the water hole. Splash! “Yes, get rid of all the evidence.”
The ghost stepped up behind Wyatt then threw a few punches at Wyatt’s back. The Spirit’s fists sailed straight through Wyatt’s torso, harmlessly coming out the other side. “Damn!” The Spirit watched in frustration as the man turned then began walking back to shore.
“Hey!” The Spirit jogged to catch up to the man. “You forgot your chainsaw, Stupid!” The ghost pointed back to the gas powered tool lying in the snow next to the hole in the ice. Of course the man couldn’t hear the ghost, so the man just kept walking. After a few more steps it became obvious they weren’t heading back towards the house. They were traveling straight towards where the ghost’s body was buried in the snow. Crack!...Lightning flash across the sky.
A cold fierce gust of wind blew dusting them both with a mist of fine loose snow. Wyatt shivered. He clutched the collar of his coat tight around his neck. “You bastard!” The ghost ran to catch up to Wyatt. “You didn’t forget your chainsaw. You plan on coming back to this ice hole!” He shouted at the back of Wyatt’s head. “There’s still more evidence to get rid of!” The Spirit swung a punch at Wyatt’s kidney. The fist went through the man like he was made of steam, doing zero damage. The Ghost’s momentum threw the ghost off balance. The Spirit’s shoes slid out from under him as he fell to the ice with a splash. Lying on the snow covered iced lake, the Spirit shouted. “I won’t let you dispose of my body in some frozen lake out in the middle of nowhere!” The Ghost jumped to his feet then raced after the man.
“I have a, fully paid for, family plot, waiting for me to lie down in it, back in Pleasantville New Jersey. I want and deserve a real burial with a ceremony. My family members deserve to know where I am and what became of me. They deserve peace of mind, closure so they can move on with their lives. You can’t dump me in that ice hole!” The Spirit raced at Wyatt then dove attempting to tackle the man football style. Vvvvvv…The ghost sailed straight through the man. Splash! The ghost slid across the snow covered ice on his belly, splashing up a wake of snow.
The ghost turned his head to watch Wyatt climbing up the lake’s bank. “AHHHH!!!!...” The Spirit yelled in frustration. A gust of wind seemed to fly out of the Ghost’s mouth as he yelled. The wind scooped up snow off the frozen lake, sending a fog of powder to cover the man. The ghost stood up delighted to realize he had developed another skill. “AHHHH!!!!...” He shouted again sending another wind blast full of snow to cover the man. “I got power.” The ghost mumbled, watching the man brush the snow off his clothes. “I just have to figure out how to use it, to stop this man from doing something terribly stupid before it’s too late.”
Wyatt resumed his climb up the bank. He separated two bushes then pushed his way through the briars into the woods. The Spirit ran to catch up to him. Wyatt walked through a small group of trees then pushed his way through a small cluster of bushes and brush to arrive a few feet from where he’d buried the dead man’s body.
Wyatt grasped the camouflage twigs then tossed them aside to expose the mound of snow that marked the snow grave. Wyatt fell to his knees then began digging with his gloved hands. He scooped the snow to the side. “Grave robber!” The Spirit stood beside Wyatt watching the man digging up his body. “Thief!” Wyatt kept scooping snow. “For the last time, Sir, I’m begging you. Do the right thing. Turn the money and my body into the authorities.”
“Go back to the house and call the cops. They’ll understand. You saw all that money and you just had the urge to keep it. Who wouldn’t be tempted by half a million dollars? If you turn the money in now, I‘m sure they’ll go easy on you. A lot easier than Harvey and his people will go on you when they catch up to you.”
Wyatt exposed the head and upper body first. He shuffled over then began digging out the legs.
“If you dispose of my body and get away with stealing my money, everyone will think I took the money and disappeared with it. If they don’t find my body, they’ll think I planned this whole rouse. They’ll never stop looking for me. The cops and Harvey’s boys will harass my wife and family forever thinking someone must know where I went. My family will eventually start to question if I could just abandon them. No one will have any peace.”
Wyatt straddled the grave then reached down and grasped the tall corpse under the elbows. He lifted the body up then backed up, lugging it out of the shallow grave. Wyatt lay the cadaver in the snow. He walked back to the grave then began kicking snow and slush back in to fill the hole up. “You are a class act.” The ghost sarcastically disapproved as he watched Wyatt walk around the grave kicking snow into it.
Wyatt grasped the cadaver under the armpits then lifted up the upper body. The dead man was tall, heavy, stiff as a board and weighed down with water but it slid easily along the wet snow. The Spirit broke down and cried as he watched his own dead body being dragged through the snow and slush. “I should have just stayed in my car and waited to be rescued.” He regretted. “Why did I ever venture out into that storm?”
The Spirit followed Wyatt as the man dragged his cadaver through the woods. Wyatt rolled the dead body down the lake’s bank. Wyatt climbed down the bank then picked up the cadaver’s feet. The cadaver slid easily along the frozen lake’s surface as Wyatt dragged it by its ankles. The Spirit watched helplessly as the man lugged his body along the snow covered ice, out towards the ice fishing hole. From the shore the Ghost yelled. “AHHHH!!!!...” in frustration. A gust of wind seemed to build up around the ghost. “AHHHH!!!!...” The wind grew stronger and stronger scooping up snow off the ground and the lake then a swirling fog headed whistling towards the man.
Wyatt dropped the cadaver’s legs then turned his back to the gale. He hunched over as the wind whipped against his back and white powder covered him. The ghost watched the man stand up then shake then begin brushing the snow off his clothes. “AHHHH!!!!...” the Spirit shouted again sending another wind blast full of snow to cover the man.
Defeated, the ghost watched the man brush the snow off his clothes then reach down to pick up his cadaver’s ankles. The man resumed dragging the body towards the ice fishing hole. The idea of spending eternity forgotten in some icy lake made Sam’s Spirit shiver. “NO!!..” The ghost shouted, suddenly racing across the frozen lake. “I have to keep trying to stop you.” A dark cloud crossed in front of the sun. Lightning flashed in the ski. Crack! Thunder exploded.
Wyatt grasped the dead body under its arm pits. He lifted the cadaver up into almost a standing position. Wyatt wrapped his arms around the dead body’s torso to hold it up right as he carefully took a step back towards the ice hole.
“NNNOOOO!!...” The enraged ghost ran smack into his own dead body’s back. He wrapped his arms around his body and Wyatt’s grasping tightly. Vvvvv…Wyatt felt a slight jolt as the Spirit re-entered its earthly body. The jolt was enough to throw Wyatt’s footing off on the slippery ice. Wyatt’s feet slipped out from under him. He fell to the ice on his back. Thud! The frozen, wet, dead body landed on top of Wyatt.
“Yuk!” Wyatt struggled to climb out from under the heavy cadaver. Wyatt’s lower back hurt and he was breathing heavy as he stood back up on the iced lake. The Spirit was surprised to find himself trapped back inside his own cadaver, lying face down staring at the snow. He tried to move his limbs but they were trapped inside the dead body’s limbs and thus frozen solid. He wiggled and strained trying to get back out of his body but he was stuck inside.
Wyatt grasped the cadaver underneath the arm pits. He lifted the dead man up. The body felt heavier this time. Wyatt thought that was because of his aching back and the fact that his own clothes and the dead man’s were both holding extra water weight due to the fall. RUFF!...RUFF!...RUFF! Wyatt looked towards the shore to see his son Kyle holding their dog Duke on a leash as they both watched him. “Damn!” He muttered.
“Kyle!” Wyatt shouted over the cadaver’s shoulder. “Go back home Son!”
RUFF! The dog and son just stood staring at him. RUFF! RUFF!
Inside the cadaver, the ghost had resolved himself to being back inside his dead, frozen, earthly body. In one way it was refreshing and settling but knowing the man meant to drop him in the ice fishing hole was disturbing.
Wyatt was upset that his Son was about to witness him dispose of a man’s body into the lake but things had gone too far, there was no turning back now. There had been a lot of money in this man’s briefcase and Wyatt had no intention of letting a dime of it slip through his fingers. He carried the cadaver over to the ice fishing hole. He dangled the dead man’s feet into the water.
The Spirit tried to focus all his energy on moving the limbs of his own dead body. He closed his eyes and concentrated fully, wiggling and flexing. Wyatt let go of the dead body. As the body fell, one of the cadaver’s frozen fingers hooked Wyatt’s right jacket pocket it pulled Wyatt forward, bending him down. Wyatt’s feet flew out from under him. As he fell the cadaver’s other hand’s finger slid into a belt loop on Wyatt’s left hip. Splash! The cadaver slid into the lake his fingers grasping and tugging Wyatt’s clothing with it. The waters current swept the cadaver under the ice. Its fingers tangled in Wyatt’s clothes, drug Wyatt’s legs and waist into the ice hole. “Ahhhhh!”
“Dad!” From shore little Kyle and Duke watched in horror as Wyatt struggled to keep the upper half of his body out of the water. RUFF! RUFF! Wyatt’s gloved hands clawed the ice in front of him. “Dad!...” Kyle screamed as he watched his Dad sink slowly, lower and lower into the water. “HELP!” Kyle screamed as his Dad sunk up to his neck. Little Kyle stopped breathing as he watched his Father’s head submerge under water. The boy stared immobilized as his Dad’s gloved hands and fingers clawed at the ice around the edge of the hole.
SPLASH!...Wyatt’s head popped up shouting, “Ahhhhh!” He fought with all his strength to pull himself out. Finally, the weight of the cadaver pulled Wyatt back down under the water then the current swept him under the ice. “HELP!...” He tried to yell but it all came out as bubbles.
In shock little Kyle let go of the dog’s leash then turned then raced towards the house. The dog chased after him. The child ran splashing through the melting snow. Kyle tripped then fell, tumbling in the slush. “Ruff!” The dog barked. The boy rose quickly then resumed running. “Ruff! Ruff!” The dog barked as he chased the young lad.
Kyle raced up the porch stairs slamming into the front door. His mitten hand struggled to turn the door knob but kept slipping. His other mitten pounded against the door. He tried to yell but he had lost his voice. “Ruff!…Ruff!” The dog hopped around behind the boy barking.
Kyle felt the door knob turning from the inside. The door opened. Kyle plowed right into his Mom. “What’s going on?” Kyle shoved past his Mother racing inside. “Are you crazy?!” The kid raced towards the staircase. “Get back here and take off those wet clothes and boots!” The kid climbed two steps at a time ignoring her. “You’re traipsing snow through my whole house!”
The dog saw an opening then made a dash to follow the boy inside but the mother was too quick. She grasped the leash, that was still attached to Duke’s collar stopping the wet animal short. “You aren’t coming in my house all soaking wet!” She drug the dog back out onto the porch. She unclipped his leash then shouted. “You’d better go find Daddy to clean you up, if you want to get in this house.”
She walked back inside slamming the door behind her. “Kyle! Get down here this instant!” The boy didn’t answer. “Kyle, you get down here and clean this mess up! Right now! I’m not playing!” Still no reply. “You are in trouble Buster!” She headed up the stairs following the trail of puddles, snow and slush.
Entering the boy’s room, she saw her son, lying on his side on his bed, curled up in the
fetal position, still dressed in his wet boots and outerwear, his head covered by a pillow. “Son? What’s wrong?” He didn’t move. “Are you hurt?” She grabbed the pillow then pulled it off his head. He was sucking his thumb, tears were running down his cheeks and he was shivering. “Son?” He just stared at the wall. “Look at me!” She grasped his chin then turned his face towards her. His face was white, lips blue, sweat was beaded on his forehead and he was breathing fast, short breaths. He stared past her vacantly.
“Woo! Relax, Baby.” She reached for the zipper of his coat then pulled it down. She pulled his heavy, wet jacket off him then tossed it on the floor. “She sat beside him on his bed. “Okay Kyle, breathe deeply.” She coached him. “Try to calm down. Open your mouth wide and take deep, slower breaths.” She reached for his right rubber boot, flicked the buckles open then pulled off the boot. She tossed it on top of the coat. She started working on the buckles of his left boot. The boy began sniffling and sobbing. “It’s okay Son.” He was breathing slower now. “Lie back and shut your eyes.” She pulled off his second boot then tossed it on the pile of wet stuff. She vaguely remembered hearing somewhere, dehydration was one of the symptoms of shock. “I’ll get you some water Son.” She stood then jogged out of the bedroom.
She returned to her son’s room carrying a tall glass of water and a wet wash towel. Kyle was lying prone with his blankets pulled up so that only his little nose and eyes peeked out. She knew, her son had taken off his heavy, down filled snow pants and the sweat shirt he’d been wearing because she saw them lying where he tossed them on the floor. “Sit up baby and sip some water.” She sat on the side of her boy’s bed then handed him the tall glass. Between sips, she mopped his forehead with the wet towel. “Tell mommy what happened out there?” He shook his head no. “Are you hurt?” The boy shook his head no. She took the glass of water from him then placed it on his night table. “Did Daddy yell at you?” He turned away then buried his head in his pillow. She stood up. “Get some rest. I’ll check back on you soon.” On the way out she turned the light off then partially closed the boy’s door. “Guess I’ll have to go find your Daddy to find out what happened.”
Meg walked to the window at the end of the hall. She pulled the cord to open the blinds. She peered out at the beautiful snow covered landscape, white and clean looking. She could see the wind was still whipping the snow around in fierce, sporadic gusts. She couldn’t see Wyatt anywhere. “He can’t be too far.” She thought, looking down at the tiny area of driveway he’d shoveled off. “He didn’t shovel enough to drive the pickup out of the garage.” She pulled the cord closing the blinds then headed down the stairs.
From the front closet, Meg grabbed her heavy, khaki color, long winter parka coat then slipped it on over top of her yellow flower printed house dress. She zippered up then bent over to grab her black, suede, knee length, faux, fur collar boots. She quickly stepped out of her fluffy bedroom slippers then pulled on, what she called her snug fitting, serious weather boots. She pulled her hood up over her head, tied the pull tie then reached for the door knob.
Meg stepped out onto the front porch, glanced around then shouted. “Wyatt!” She waited for a moment. When there was no reply, she headed, walking down the shoveled entrance path. “Wyatt!” She walked off the shoveled path, stepping into the deep snow and slush. With the wind blowing the top layer of powder around and the sun melting the snow and turning the under layer into slush, there were no tracks left for Meg to follow. She wandered down the long curved driveway shouting. “Wyatt!”
Near the end of the driveway, Meg could see the road. She stopped, looked around confused because she had not found her husband yet. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Wyatt!” As she turned to head back towards the house, the police jeep drove into her driveway. She stared at the cop vehicle as it pulled to a stop next to her.
“Mrs. Koehler.” The police officer asked as he rolled down his window. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She answered adding. “Did you find your missing man yet, Officer?”
“No, which is why we’re back.” He leaned his head out the window. “We’d like to talk to your husband and son again.”
“My husband’s outside here somewhere. I came out to find him but…” She glanced around then shrugged her shoulders. “My boy’s inside taking a nap.”
“Why don’t you hop in the backseat and we’ll drive you back up to your house?” The officer leaned forward to hit a button that popped up the locks on all the doors. Meg Koehler pulled the back door open then climbed in.
“Hello Mrs. Koehler.” The bald passenger greeted, waving at her through the mesh fence that separates the prisoners from the front seat.
“Hello Sir. I’m sorry you haven’t found your friend yet. It must be awful for you, wondering where he is?” The jeep started moving.
“Mrs., we weren’t telling anyone earlier because we didn’t want to arouse a group of treasure hunters but my friend, who went missing, was transporting a large sum of cash money which is also missing. The money wasn’t in his abandoned car.”
“I see.” The jeep pulled to a stop in front of Meg’s house. They all climbed out. “So you think foul play maybe involved?”
“We hope not.” The officer answered. “But the missing man, Sam Leech is known to be a very responsible person, who still hasn’t called home or tried to contact his office yet.”
“After traveling in last night’s brutal storm, Sam would know everyone’s worrying about him. Sam’s the kind of guy who would have called someone by now to let us know he was okay.” The bald man informed. “He was traveling to meet me. If Sam was able to contact me, I know he would have by now.”
“I can assure you, me and my family have not seen your missing man.”
“We’d really just like to talk to your Son for a second. He seemed to run out of the room rather fast the last time we were here, when we tried to show him Mr. Leech’s photograph.”
“Okay, but I doubt he’s going to know anything.” They headed up the shoveled walk way.
The big dog galloped across the deeply snow covered yard. He forged through the snow bank to crash onto the walkway just in front of Meg and the two men. “AHH!” Meg stepped back leaning into the two men’s arms. “Duke! You startled me.” She stepped forward as the dog walked towards her. She reached down to scratch the top of the animal’s head.
“What’s that in his mouth?” The bald man asked. They all bent to look closer.
“AAHHHH!...” Meg screamed, standing upright then plowing backwards, pushing her way between the two men to get away from the sight. The dog dropped the severed hand at the men’s feet. Ruff! Ruff! He barked then climbed back up the bank then raced across the lawn.
“Is that a glove?” The officer asked.
“It looks like a man’s hand.” The bald man, bent way over to stare.
“Is it a toy?” The cop asked.
“I think it’s real.” He made a disgusted face then straightened back up. Harvey used the tip of his boot to flip the hand over.
The officer knelt down to study the object. Using his gloved fingers he picked up the hand. “There’s a wedding band on his finger.” The officer announced standing up. “Mrs. Koehler?” He turned towards the distraught woman. “I hate to do this to you but I need you to look at this ring and tell me if it’s your husband’s wedding band.”
Scrunching up her face as if she was going to puke, Meg approached the policeman. She leaned over to study the hand then suddenly turned away shaking her head, no. “Wyatt wears a band that matches mine.” She held her hand up and back for the two men to see her gold band had fancy scrolling along its sides.
“We should all go inside.” The officer ordered. “Where, we can try to sort this out.”
Standing inside the front foyer of the house, Meg shouted. “Wyatt! Are you home?” There was no answer. The two men looked at each other as if exchanging thoughts. “Stay right there.” She ordered the guys. “While I get you a bag to put that disgusting thing in.” She motioned towards the severed hand he was still clutching then turned and walked towards her kitchen. “How about, I boil water for some coffee?”
“I could use a cup.” Harvey answered.
The men were whispering when she came back with a plastic garbage bag. She held the bag open so the officer could drop the hand inside. The police officer twirled the top of the bag shut then stated. “It’s fingerprints will tell us if it’s your friend’s hand.”
“Wait a second.” Harvey offered. “Most wedding bands have inscriptions on the inside.”
“You want to take the ring off?” Meg made a face. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you in my house with that thing.”
“Come on.” Harvey pleaded. “We’ll know right away if it’s Sam’s hand?”
The cop handed the bag to Harvey. Harvey turned then carried the bag into the living room. He sat on the edge of the couch leaning over the coffee table.
“Yuk!” Meg turned away as Harvey dumped the hand out on top of her coffee table. “I can’t watch this.” She headed back into the kitchen.
Harvey used his gloved hands to hold the severed hand and twist the ring off its finger. The ring slid off the frozen finger fairly easy. Harvey wiped the ring off with his gloved finger tips then held it up to his eye. Squinting he read “From Amelia May to Sam, with love.” Harvey looked up at the policeman. “It’s Harvey Leech’s hand alright. Sam’s wife’s name is Amelia May.” He placed the wedding band down on the table top.
Meg Koehler walked into her living room carrying a bottle of spray disinfectant and a roll of paper towels. “Please put that gross thing back in the bag, so I can disinfect my table.”
“That thing is my friend’s hand and I’d like to know what your husband did with the rest of Sam Leech?”
“What are you implying?” She looked from the bald man to the police officer. “My husband had nothing to do with that….hand!”
“Can I use your phone?” The police officer asked.
“Sure.” She pointed to the phone on the see through kitchen counter. “Make yourselves comfortable.” She added sarcastically then angrily. “I’m going to go check on my Son.” She stomped towards the stairs.
“I’d like to go with you.” Harvey stood up. “To ask him a few questions if I can.”
“No.”
“He may know something.”
“My Kyle doesn’t know anything!” She stomped up the stairs.
Harvey turned to listen to the police officer talking on the phone. “I need an all points bulletin put out on a Wyatt Koehler. He’s a murder suspect. He may be armed.” The policeman looked at Harvey. “You did say your friend, Mr. Leech carried a pistol. There’s a good chance Wyatt Koehler has his gun now along with the half a million dollars.”
Two hours later: Meg was sitting on her couch biting her nails as a slew of cops searched her home and trampled through her snow covered yard. “Do you still think your husband is coming back?” She just stared at the bald Harvey. “Your husband took my friend’s money and is long gone! He didn’t even offer to take you and little Kyle with him. If you know where he went, you’d better tell the police now!”
Doctor Rupert McGraw descended the staircase. “Doctor.” Meg Koehler shouted from the couch waving her hand. “How’s my boy?” “Yes,” Harvey asked. “Can we finally talk to the lad?”
Everyone gathered around the doctor listening to his diagnosis. “It is my opinion; the boy suffered a great psychological and emotional stress.”
“Yes, but can we talk to him?” Harvey asked again.
“He was bordering on going into shock, so I had to give him a sedative.”
“So that means we can’t question him to find out what he knows?”
“Not until tomorrow afternoon at the soonest.”
A tall distinguished man wearing a three piece suit, gently shut the front door then turned to address the group. “Detectives, can I have a word.” He ordered, waving his hand to direct them over to him. From different areas of the room, three men hustled over to form a huddle around the tall man. After about two minutes of whispering, one strong, squat man stepped out of the huddle to announce. “Pack up your stuff folks. We’re pulling out.”
Harvey jogged over. “What happened?” Meg moved closer so she could hear.
The distinguished man explained. “We found out where your husband disposed of the rest of his victim’s body parts.”
“No!” Meg shouted. “My Wyatt could not have done this!”
“We found his chainsaw sitting out on the ice in the middle of the frozen lake next to a large ice fishing type of hole.”
“The bastard!” Harvey shouted. “Your husband cut my friend up and fed him to the fishes!”
“If the dog didn’t snatch then run off with the victim’s hand.” The tall distinguished man mused. “We probably never would have figured out exactly what happened.” Meg ran to the garbage can in the corner of the room leaned over it then started throwing up. “Doc.” The smooth talking man pointed to Meg. “You might want to give her a sedative too.”
The distinguished looking man put his arm over Harvey’s shoulders. “Don’t worry man. He won’t get far. We got road blocks up on all the major freeways. We got his description out to every airport, bus stop, train station, tollbooth, from here to Canada and Mexico both. By morning his face will be plastered across every newspaper, worth its salt, from here to California. Someone’s going to spot him.”
From her squatting position on the floor with her arms wrapped around the garbage can, Meg watched the law men pack up their equipment and leave. When the last lawman was outside, she stood up then ran to the door. She grasped the bolt lock then locked it then slid the chain lock in place. She turned the little knob on the door knob locking it too then turned around and leaned her back against the door and sighed. Her hands covered her eyes as she began to cry.
There was a time when she would have never believed the man she married was capable of murdering anyone for any amount of money. But recently, they’d been under a lot of bill paying pressure. Wyatt had been passed over for a promotion at his job for the 2nd time and the factory where she worked had started laying people off for the first time in ten years. It seemed like lately they were always fighting about money. Had she driven him to do something so out of character, so terrible, so irresponsible that there was no turning back? “Wyatt, where are you?” She whispered as her back slowly slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor. “Call me please. I need to hear your voice.”
Outside, the big dog stood on top of a high snow drift watching the parade of police vehicles drive out of his driveway. When the last vehicle turned onto the street, the dog turned then leaped off the mound of snow. Duke trotted through the slush to the lake’s edge to an area where the wind had blown the powdery snow off the ice. “Duke!” The wind seemed to be whispering. “Duke!” The dog cautiously walked out onto the ice.
Under his paws the dog heard tapping then scratching. Looking down Duke saw his master submerged in the water under the ice. Wyatt’s gloved fists pounded on the ice as if he was trying to break through. Suddenly a bigger man was there under water wrestling with Wyatt. The dog growled at the men then scratched at the ice. The men’s limbs wrapped around each other. The bigger man was missing a hand. The dog watched as the big man’s good hand and fingers wrapped around Wyatt’s neck then squeezed tightly. Wyatt’s eyes bulged. Ruff! Ruff! The dog barked as the two men slowly sunk further and further underwater. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed! The dog turned then raced off the lake.
The dog galloped splashing snow and slush as he raced home. Lightning flashed, thunder cracked as Duke ran up the shoveled front path then trotted up the porch stairs. The dog whined and scratched at the front door.
Meg heard the scratching. “Duke?” She stood up smiling then unlocked the locks and the chain. Meg opened the door, the wet dog ran inside. She reached down to grab his collar but the dog was too fast. He raced past her and in a flash he had dripped water and slush across the living room. “Damn!” She watched the big animal run up the stairs. She heard his big paws thump down the hall then heard her son’s bedroom door squeak open. She shook her head in frustration as she hurried to relock the front door. Then, she heard the bedsprings squeak as the big lumbering dog must have leaped up onto her son’s bed. “Oh hell!” She shouted racing up the stairs carrying the dog’s, big, fluffy towel.
Entering the bedroom, she saw the big wet dog stretched out on top of the blanket next to her sound asleep son. She threw the towel on top of the dog then began drying him. “I should throw you back outside!” She scolded as she dried the animal the best that she could. “Lucky for you, I’m too scared to want to be in here alone tonight.”
Six months later: Meg and little Kyle Koehler were loading up a rented moving truck. They were moving to an apartment complex that allowed dogs. Meg couldn’t afford the bills for the large property on just her salary and the place was too big for just her, Kyle and a dog. Little Kyle carried the last box over to the back of the truck. He handed it to his mother who was inside the box. Meg turned then placed the small box into the pile then buckled the strap across to hold the stuff in place. She climbed out of the back of the truck then pulled the door closed. She turned then stared at the two-story house she had called home for over ten years.
They were leaving behind a lot of good memories but the one big bad memory kept clouding up all of the good thoughts. Deep down, she felt relieved. They needed a change, if they were going to put this place and what happened here behind them. Her husband had killed a man then ran off with the man’s money leaving them both behind to cope. Wyatt was now on the FBI’s most wanted list. So far, her son Kyle had never regained his ability to talk since that night. Meg wasn’t sure what her little boy had witnessed but she hoped moving would help Kyle forget and recover. Meg cupped her hands around her mouth then called “Kyle!" When he didn’t respond, she went looking for him.
Meg heard a scraping sound coming from around the side of the house. She walked around the corner to see her small boy struggling to push the dog’s house along the ground. “Oh no Honey!” She walked towards him to explain. “We’re not taking Duke’s house with us. We’re moving into an apartment complex. We don’t get our own backyard.” The kid kept pushing the dog house. Suddenly, the house jarred loose then slid forward a little bit. Meg saw her little son fall flat on his face in the grass.
“Oh my…” She raced to the boy. When she was closer, she noticed what had been preventing the dog house from sliding. Someone had dug a hole under the dog’s home and they hid a suitcase in the hole. “What in the world?” She grasped the handle of the suitcase then lifted it out of the hole. “Are you okay Son?” She turned to ask her Son. The boy shook his head yes. Meg lay the suitcase down in the grass then bent over to pop the latches.
Meg raised the suitcase lid. “Wow!” The young boy shouted staring at the suitcase full of money.
His Mom turned to him amazed. “Honey, you talked!”
“Where’d all that money come from?” The boy asked gawking.
She moved next to her, now talking, Son then hugged him. “I believe your father left us a present.” She squeezed her Son tightly. “Oh Wyatt!” Meg mumbled. “I knew you didn’t run off without us.” After a few minutes, Meg stood up. “Go round up Duke, Son.” She ordered. “We’re blowing out of this town.” She leaned over to re-latch the suitcase full of money then picked it up by its muddy handle. She started walking, towards the rental truck, swinging the suitcase. “With a half a million dollars, we should be able to afford a nicer dog house than that one.” She smiled.
Eclipse by Stu Leventhal
On a dirt path on a hillside bordering the Lumena Desert, Dr. Krempton Pilzner skidded his six wheeled, all-terrain cycle, to a dusty halt. His legs straddling the seat, Dr. Pilzner gazed up at the sky, at the three beautiful colored discs, one yellow, one red and one orange forming an almost perfect, floating, isosceles triangle. The big eclipse or more correctly, the double eclipse was just three hours away. Planet Radis was to have its sunlight blacked out completely by its neighboring, slightly bigger, barren planet Demeca followed by it’s own quite large, orbiting moon. The combined darknesses would last approximately 48 hours.
Krempton Pilzner raised the light meter high over his head then pressed the button that would record the intensity of the different colored light rays and invisible rays beaming towards him. He dropped the hand held gadget into his pocket, then grasped the mini-camera that hung from a cord around his neck. Krempton lifted the camera towards the heavens. He quickly snapped a few photos of the full, dark red, moon approaching the slightly bigger, paler yellow sun from the east as the orange sphere of the barren planet Demeca approached from the west.
It was easy to imagine the fear that would be going through his great, great ancestors minds if they had witnessed this very sight. It was also easy to understand why they had worshiped the planets, moon, sun and stars as if they were Gods. As the spheres moved closer to one another, they seemed to grow brighter. “Three Gods about to do battle.” He thought, envisioning the panic that would overcome an ancient civilization looking up and understandably believing their world was about to come to an end.
The media had said you shouldn’t stare. You could go blind. But it was hard not to admire the beauty of this once in a lifetime, naturally occurring, phenomenon. And as one gazed, it was hard not to let one’s mind wonder what every other inhabitant on the planet was thinking. Krempton’s scalp tingled, his mouth was dry but he smiled, knowing he would soon be experiencing something very, very special. Krempton, the scientist, felt like he was about to make a connection, spiritually with all the other species of his planet, maybe even a slight psychic connection with his whole universe.
Dr. Krempton Pilzner reached for the handlebars then twisted the throttle, revving the engine of his rugged, six wheeled vehicle designed to handle a wide variety of terrain. Krempton had historical data to record. He needed to be at the highest altitude he could get to, fast, to collect the most accurate readings. Determined, he eased the cycle into low gear then steered the vehicle off the dirt trail and into a dry but sandy-bottomed riverbed. The riverbed he hoped would take him closer to the summit of the hills.
Naturally all across the planet’s surface inhabitants in the know, were racing about to finish their last minute chores before the Big Sleep, as the media had nick named the coming blackout.
1000 miles northeast, Gillianna felt agitated and slightly frightened as she glanced at the harmless looking, glowing, color circles in the sky. “Complete darkness followed by a deeper darkness.” The newscaster had warned. “The middle, twenty four hours of the 48 hour blackout was to be darker than anything any of us has ever experienced. Zero light is suppose to be blacker than the blackest black we know. Some scientists are predicting our minds may project a different color than black just to cope, most likely a dark, brown and purple clay tone. Hundreds of miles from home, Gillianna knew, she had to find adequate shelter before the lights went out. 48 hours alone, stumbling and groping blind, along the deserted streets of an evacuated city would be unthinkable. And, Gillianna had heard, to control looting, the soldiers patrolling the cities were given orders, to shoot anything that they saw moving.
“They’re suggesting we all stay inside.” Tuttle Jones informed. “I picked up a bottle of tranquilizers for those of you who choose to sleep through it all.”
“The men are going to have to take shifts, keeping watch, guarding against looters.”
“I want to be outside the whole time.” Bebe Jones stated obstinately.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea Son.”
“This double eclipse won’t happen again for 400,866 years. I want to see it.”
“You’re going to feel it too.” Little, ten year old, Mimi Jones reminded. “They say the temperature is going to drop 20-25 degrees immediately, within the first two minutes. Then, 1-2 degrees every half hour for the first twenty four hour period before it begins to climb slowly back up again.”
“I’ll dress warm.” Bebe chuckled at his little sister. He held up his camera. “And, I’ll take plenty of photographs for the rest of you to see.”
“Well, If anyone does go outside.” Jama Jones advised. “I suggest we tie a long rope around their waist so we can pull them back in if need be.”
“Like a long leash.” The ten year old girl laughed.
“I’m not tethering myself up like some pet animal.” Bebe argued.
“Think of it, more like a mountain climber’s safety lead.” His mother Jama corrected. “Son, If you get disoriented out in the darkness, it will be very tough to survive 48 hours blind.”
“And,” Tuttle Jones warned. “Fifteen minutes after the eclipse starts, I’m shutting the front door and locking her tight. Whoever isn’t inside by then isn’t getting inside our home. Once locked that door isn’t opening for any reason or anyone until the blackout is over. With all the looters, schemers and crazies out roaming the streets it will be just too damn dangerous to leave our door open any longer.
Whooo!….Whooo!…Whooo!… “That’s the one hour warning whistle.” Jama Jones informed. “If any of you have anything you have to do outside the house before the darkness starts you had better get it done fast. You all heard your father’s warning, the front doors are locking tight, fifteen minutes after the total eclipse is in effect. So, don’t stray too far that you can’t get back home in time.”
The front door flew open, banging against the wall. “Guys!” Thin, blond Lulla Jones stuck her head inside the doorway. “You’ve got to come see the colors in the sky!” She raced back outside.
Jama and Tuttle shrugged then jogged after their teenage daughter. “Lulla!” The teen’s Mom shouted. “It’s one hour until eclipse time. Don’t wander far. I want everyone safely home, inside our front yard, fifteen minutes before the lights go all the way out.”
In the front yard, Jama and Tuttle gazed up at the sky in awe. Rings of shades of blue circled the full moon. Rings of red and orange circled the planet Demeca. Rainbows of colors flickered on then off sparking between the moon, Demeca and the yellow sun. Tuttle reached for Jama’s hand, then squeezed it affectionately. He pulled her in front of him then wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged. They stood in a standing spooning position gawking at the dazzling display in the sky. “It’s so beautiful!” Jama whispered.
“Wow!” Little Mimi waddled through the yard, her head tipped fully back, gawking wide mouthed. She stopped beside her parents to watch the sky change colors.
Bebe stood in the center of their yard snapping photographs. “Hey Mr. Pedigree.” Bebe shouted over the fence to his silver haired neighbor. “You got enough water and food to last the whole thing?”.
“Mrs. Pedigree’s been hoarding goodies down in our basement for the past few months. We’re stocked with can goods and all the essentials to last fifty days.”
“Ha, ha, ha…That’s good to hear.” Tuttle waved. “You can never have too much.”
“Good luck, folks.” Java wished.
“Yes, good luck to you and yours too.” Apollo Pedigree replied. “We’ll see you all in 48 hours!”
“If we don’t kill each other by then.”
Over 1000 miles northeast, Gillianna heard the footsteps racing to catch up to her. She ran faster, huffing and puffing almost out of breath. “Wait!” A man’s voice shouted. Exhausted, Gillianna ducked into a dark alley. “I have a fully charged Tazzer 413!” Gillianna bluffed. “And I know how to use it! So, if you know what’s good for you, don’t come in here!”
“I don’t mean you no harm.” The man shouted from the mouth of the alley. “It’s going to be dark soon and I thought it would be nice to spend the next 48 hours with someone.”
“I’m married!” She shouted adding. “…Happily!”
“I didn’t mean sex.” The man tried to explain. “I just meant that we seem to be the only two people who haven’t evacuated this part of the city. It’s going to be a long 48 hours with no one to talk to.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“We have to trust each other.” She didn’t say anything so he added. “Besides I know you don’t have a Tazzer.”
“Yes I do!”
“Listen, I have half a sandwich. I’m willing to share.”
“I have a candy bar and a few crackers.” She shouted back.
“Then we need to round up food, water and some shelter. We don’t have any time to spare. The light is fading quickly. So, you’d better make up your mind, if you don’t want to spend the next 48 hours in darkness all by yourself, starving, thirsty and cold.”
“I’m coming out! But, you’d better not try anything!”
On the dark side of Radis’s moon, inside large bubble tents the same tan color as the moon’s powdery surface, the Krackles gathered in groups waiting patiently, warming themselves in front of portable fireplaces. They sipped mugs filled with hot, spiced Zipa tadpole blood to calm their nerves. “Soon, soon.” They assured one another, patting each other on their dark purple, scaly backs with their claws. The pilots and crews, all could hear the loud revving of the engines of their fighter jets coming from outside as the teams of mechanics hustled to make last minute adjustments to their ships, preparing them for the upcoming battle.
Prince Juno stared out a small port window watching his lizard like compatriots scurrying from ladder to ladder, carrying different tools in their paws, their long tails dragging behind them. He saw four Despriots, chained together at the ankle and dressed in bright yellow, slave color spacesuits. “Probably captured during our recent raid on their little blue planet.” He mused. A Krackle guard snapped a long whip then pointed to a ramp. The slaves began carrying supplies and loading missiles onto the ramp leading into a battle ships lower holding compartment.
“Three more hours my Lord.” The plump General declared confidently, his wiggling antennae, showing his excitement. Which, is why he could never play card games for money. His antennae always alerted the other players when he had a winning hand. “Then the planet Radis will be at its most vulnerable. We’ll attack their planet while it’s in complete darkness. We will take them by complete surprise my Prince.”
“Yes, I know Abar.” He turned away from the tiny, round window.
“Yet, you still seem worried, Master?”
“War is always unpredictable, General.”
“This attack was well planned Sire. Genius even."
“Yes, it’s taken us three years to set up.”
“Three years, one tiny hover craft at a time carrying parts to build bigger ships. A
Tiny, slow flying vessel that would cause no suspicion. Yet, after 3 long years we’ve built us an army! Outside that window, we have two whole divisions of fully armed, fully fueled, fighter jets. Fine tuned and ready to go. We’re sitting within thirty minutes striking distance of our target, warming up our engines and the inhabitants of Radis have no idea.”
“Yes, the plan to patiently and secretly build this base on the dark side of their moon was genius.”
“Our spies on the ground say they’re totally engrossed in the excitement of the coming double eclipse. They’ve prepared entirely for thieves and looters, chaos caused by their own planet’s inhabitants. They’re totally unaware, nor ready, nor suspecting an invasion from another world.”
“Plus, we’re attacking from the dark side of their own moon so we should be inside their atmosphere before they have time to sneeze.”
“This is going to be the quickest war in Krackin history!”
“We cannot afford to fail.”
44 hours later:
On a mountain top, gazing out across the Lumena Desert through a pair of powerful binoculars, Dr. Krempton Pilzner ew'd and ah'd at the dazzling display of colorful light beams bouncing off the sandy hills stretching out below him for miles and miles. He let the binoculars fall then hang from their leather harness dangling around his neck. He gazed up at the sky at the three over-lapping beautiful fluorescent discs, one yellow, one red and one orange. Colored rainbows flashed on and off like strobes sparking as they arced, shouting from planet to moon to sun to moon then back to planet to sun to planet.
Occasionally laser beams of some bright color shot off in a tangent. Once in a while a stray beam would shine in the direction of the planet Aris to illuminate her surface with a fast moving colored circle like a flashlight beam would. Dr. Pilzner grasped his binoculars then raised them to his eyes. As he gazed out scanning the desert, he wondered if the assorted cameras he had set up on this mountain top, were even capable of capturing the beauty of the spectacular one of a kind light show. As his eyes combed the desert floor, Pilzner noticed a repeating series of dark black areas starting about ten miles away from the base of his mountain and stretching off to the northwest for a few miles in a checkerboard pattern. Curious, the Dr. pressed the infrared button on his binoculars so he could illuminate the dark spots. Next, he switched to his most powerful lens strength. What he saw shocked him so much he dropped the binoculars. He blinked his eyes, staring into the darkness then re-raised the binoculars for another look, just in case he was hallucinating.
The desert floor was covered with hundreds of enemy war ships. He knew for a fact the fighter ships had not been there before the double eclipse started but there they were now lined up very orderly in rows and columns. How they had gotten there he could not explain or comprehend. He also knew the fighters were not of the design used by his own planet for defense. Quickly, Dr. Pilzner raced to his tent to get his hand radio.
“Emergency! Emergency! 14G6 to base! I repeat, Emergency!” Dr. Pilzner shouted into his radio. “This is 14G6 reporting. I think our planet is under attack! Please advise?”
“What did you say 14G6? For a second there I thought I heard…”
“You heard correctly. I believe we’re being invaded!” The Doctor explained. “There’s unidentified space craft idling all over the desert. Hundreds of warrior ships!”
“That doesn’t make any sense 14G6. Have you been drinking?”
“No! I’m completely serious!”
“Have you been smoking that mountain fungi?”
“No, I’m not impaired.”
“Then why do we see nothing on our screens and monitors?”
“That’s because they’ve already landed.”
“Impossible!”
“14G6, Are you sure this isn’t some kind of mirage or illusion you’re seeing, brought on by the eclipse?”
“I wish I was imagining this, Base. I’ve never been more frightened in my life. There’s at least a battalion parked out there in the sand!”
“You stared at it didn’t you? You couldn’t help yourself. You stared at the eclipse and it not only blinded you, it’s made you insane too!”
“Base!” Dr. Krempton Pilzner shouted into his hand transmitter. “I am a man of science! I am not intoxicated! I see perfectly well! And, what I see scares the hell out of me! Now, I am officially reporting that we have been invaded by a heavily armed battalion of war ships that have successfully landed in the Lumena Desert. How should I proceed?”
“14G6, have the visitors taken any aggressive actions?”
“No they’re just sitting there, in the sand, idling, so far.” He answered nervously.
“But, I can see the weaponry mounted on their upper carriages. They are heavily armed. They are definitely not passenger ships or freighters.”
“But, you are sure they have not yet fired any weapons?”
“Not yet.”
“Then sit tight, 14G6. And don’t do anything to provoke them.”
“Yes Sir.”
“I’m sending scouts out to verify your report.”
“Hurry, Sir. Hurry!”
Back at the base Lieutenant Albeterie ordered. “Deploy some expedition teams to the Lumena Desert immediately to confirm or deny the outrageous claims made by 14G6.”
“Do you think it’s all a hoax Sir?”
“I sure hope so.”
“It can’t be real.” Captain Tillers walked over. “Two days ago, the Cosmo-sphere was deemed clear for trillions of miles around. I read the reports myself. There was no threatening battalions with in a one month’s flight of our planet. There wasn’t even a hint of an enemy fighter in the area. Plus, with all the hoopla being made about the coming double eclipse, all eyes have been on the skies for weeks. Even if we the government or our counter agency, the League of Defense overlooked something, surely one of the private scientific institutions or many amateur star gazers would have noticed the approaching war ships.”
“Unless someone’s developed a new mode of stealth travel.” A nearby radio controller offered.
“Or perhaps a whole new way of traveling all together.” Lieutenant Albeterie supposed.
“Do you know what you’re suggesting, Lieutenant?!”
Gillianna felt something warm on her right cheek. She opened her eyes to see a beam of sun light sneaking through a tiny space between two vertical blinds covering the window across the room. “Malvik.” She hissed shaking the lump buried in a blanket, lying next to her. “We made it!” She smiled.
“Huh?”
“Wake up!” She pulled the blanket off his head. “It’s all over!” She pointed to the light beam. “See!”
He yawned then squinted at her. “What if I say I don’t want it to be over?
“What?” She glared at him. He reached for her waist.
“No!” She swatted his hands aside then scooted further away from him. “Come on stop fooling around. We agreed, remember?”
“We agreed we would help each other through a bad time. That bad time doesn’t just end cause the sun’s shining outside.”
“Yes, it does. We’re both married! We need to get back to our families. I’m sure they’re worried about us.”
“Let them worry.”
“What the heck are you saying?”
“Just that I…Listen, I know the eclipse is over and I’m glad and happy that the sun is back. But, I just…”
“What?”
“Why do we have to rush back to the world?”
“Because we’ve just been through a terrible, terrifying ordeal and we have to get back to our old lives as quickly as possible to pick up the pieces and start living again.”
“But, I’m living now!”
“Don’t go there!”
“These last two days, which you call a terrifying ordeal, have been the best two days of my life! I don’t want them ever to end. And if that means living without the sun, well, that’s okay too.”
“Don’t do this Malvik. You aren’t in love with me. You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough to know I want to know more.”
“Well, you can’t! When we exit this building, we’re going to walk away from each other, heading in two different directions. That is the last time we will see each other, ever. And, we won’t try to contact each other.”
“Why?”
One quarter of a mile below Tuttle Jones’ home in the families’ tight quartered but cozy underground shelter. “Hey Pop?” Bebe Jones shook his Dad’s shoulder gently.
“Huh? Wha?...” Tuttle yawned.
“Dad,” Bebe whispered as he held the small clock in front of his Dad’s face. “The eclipse was over a few minutes ago.” The chunky teen whispered. “Why don’t me and you go up first to make sure everything topside is okay then we’ll come back down and wake up the rest of them?” Bebe gestured to the family members sleeping in all different contorted positions all over the room.
“Have patience Son.” Tuttle informed. “We can’t go topside until we’ve been given the all clear signal. “Why don’t you make yourself some breakfast but try not to make too much noise. Let the others sleep as long as they can.”
“I’d rather wait until I’m up there to eat.” The teen pointed his thumb towards the ceiling. “More choices.”
“Okay, then why don’t you turn on the big monitor screen and see if you can pick up any broadcastings. This way we can get an idea of what we’re looking forward to finding once we get back up to the surface.”
“Okay Pop.”
“Just keep the volume down.” Tuttle whispered. “Be respectful of the others.” Tuttle rolled over pulling his pillow over his head.
“How do I look?” Prince Juno asked, spitting on his claw then patting his side burns down. “First impressions are everything, especially when you’re trying to impose your will on the inhabitants of a newly conquered planet.”
“You look intimidating, dignified, distinguished and very determined Sir.” Chubby General Abar Collussis smiled at his boss. “I especially like the Lamal skin, long coat.” The chubby General held up a rag wet on one end. “Come here and let me put an extra sparkling shine on the medals you’ve chosen to display on your parka.”
“Yes, this promises to be such a momentous and historic occasion.” The Prince walked over to his subordinate. “I need to look sharp, there’s bound to be photos, statues and holograms made of my image to commemorate this date.”
“Hold still.” The General reached for one of his boss’s larger medals dangling from his coat’s lapel then began to shine it with the dipped rag. The orange stone imbedded in pewter began to glow. “There.” The General reached for another dangling military award then began to buff it up too. “I took the liberty to put two bottles of Tiger Snail liquor on chill, so we can have a formal victory toast with your members of cabinet right after the official surrender of the enemy ceremony.”
“Do you suppose the Radisians will stall much longer?”
“Nah, they have no choice. The members of their Royal Guard which make up 85% of their ground troops, abandoned their heavy artillery and most of their ground equipment and fled into the hills. We’ve taken over their launch pads. So, they can’t counter attack us with an air assault.”
“And all this without firing one shot.”
“We caught them completely off guard my Prince. I think they’re just understandably still in shock.” The General continued to shine another of his Boss’s medals. “Give them time. They’ll come around. What choice do they have. Their people went underground planning to be there only a few days to wait out the 48 hour blackout. The eclipse is over. They’ll start running out of food and supplies soon and will have to come top side.”
“I’d hoped we’d have the terms of their surrender formalized, agreed upon and all the documents signed by then.”
“Your Majesty,” General Abar Collussis barged into his Boss’s office, quickly saluted the Prince then reported. “A convoy of vehicles accompanying a parade of Radisians on foot, has been spotted about two miles north east, coming our way.”
“Good, Finally a reply.”
“They’re flying a white flag.” The chubby General smiled broadly.
“Anywhere else, that would be good news, Abar.”
“But?...” General Abar Collussis looked at his boss confused. “Sir? Surely this means, they’re surrendering. Which is what we’ve been waiting to hear.”
“The Radis planet’s regular flag is an all white square.”
“No colors, no symbols? But isn’t...”
“No stripes, stars, moons, words nothing but an all white square of fabric. They pride themselves on being a pacifist society.”
“Sir, are you saying they fly the symbol of cowardly surrender as their everyday symbol, representing their spirit and being?”
“They don’t consider that it means surrender, General. To them it means truce. Which is a cease fire! Both sides are agreeing to not fire, which is totally different than, one side saying, we give up. It is far from cowardly to expose one’s self by marching unarmed into the sites and range of one’s enemy’s most dangerous weapons waving your flag.” The Prince took a sip of Ardronian Cactus coffee which he’d been relying on for the past few hours to keep him alert. “Abar, after all the battles we’ve been through, have you ever seen me so nervous?”
“My Prince? Try to relax. It will all be over soon.”
“Since the time I became of age to enlist in the Academy of Galactic Battle Arts, there has always been a mystery concerning the mere mention of the planet Radis. This planet revolves at strategic crossroads, overlooking shipping routes between a number of non-life supporting galaxies rich in valuable minerals and a host of life rich galaxies who desperately need those minerals. It’s always been painfully obvious, from a military standpoint, whomever controlled Radis controlled the lower quadrant of the Cosmos. Yet, whether in a classroom or later during live war strategy sessions among my military minded colleagues, the mere mention of us, the Krackles, attacking Radis was met with the quickest and fiercest resistance. Radisians have never been considered friends of the Krackle. The word neutral is always used to describe them.”
“Yes, My Prince, but our Krackle vessels have always been allowed to cruise past, stop, re-supply, fuel up or to make repairs on their planet.” The General pointed out.
“They have always been more than accommodating to us.”
“But, Radis also allows our enemies to do the same.” The Prince countered. “So naturally I’ve always wondered what’s with this Radis place? Why have we never considered just taking the relatively tiny place over until now?”
“I guess the elders felt, why waste our energy fighting a non-threat like Radis, who has declared themselves neutral, when we have no shortage of real enemies who have declared they’d like to see all Krackles vaporized and are actively trying to extinguish us.”
“No, General there’s more to it than that. The Committee of Power has left the conquering of this planet Radis to last because I believe they are afraid of Radis. And, they chose me to supervise the mission because they don’t care if I fail.”
“Sir, that’s treason talk! I’ll forget I ever heard it.”
“No, General. The elders have always favored Lord Tizzizzim over me. If I were to fail that would open the door for Lord Tizz to make a bid for the office of Supreme Ruler of Krackle.”
“There’s plenty of Krackles, including myself, who favor you Sire over Lord Tizzizzim.”
“But if I were to fail and return home a disgrace…”
“But you’ve succeeded royally.”
“Then why do I feel like something’s not right?”
“Because, it was too easy. We’ve always had to struggle for every inch. You and I are used to slugging it out. This time we came armed with a superior plan. The plan worked so good, you are not ready to accept that it is all over and done.”
“General, what I am about to tell you I’ve never told anyone.”
“Your Majesty, you know you can always confide in me.”
“When I first learned that my new commission was to subdue the planet of Aris, at all costs. And, that the Committee of Power had deemed this the next necessary step for Kracken to achieve supreme control of this entire area. I went to see Vavel the Old Wiseman. Vavel warned me that fighting the Radisians would be nothing like any battles we, the Krackin have experienced so far. He warned, the outcome would not be decided by the sword, brut force, strength of numbers or tenacity. This was to be a battle of the minds.”
“That’s why you took your time and developed our three year plan Sir.” The general clapped. “You’ve beaten them with your brains not your brawn just as the good prophet Vavel predicted.”
“I also went to see Lynchin Xing.”
“Sir, you went to one of our slave camps to visit the conquered General of the Rumphie Army?”
“Yes Abar, the Rumphies of Gallaxy Q7 were one of our toughest opponents. The Final Battle For the Milky Way was the fiercest, engagement in Krackle history to date.”
“I was there Sir. I know firsthand how brutal and costly in Krackle casualties the skirmishes were. I almost lost my eye in a hand to hand tussle with one of the nasty Beatles. I have this scar to remind me every time I look in a mirror.” The General pointed to a gray bumpy line above his right eye and under his right antennae. “The Rumphie’s never give up.”
“Exactly, plus they are geniuses at strategic warfare. Well respected, feared and undefeated throughout the Cosmos, before we defeated them.”
“And they earned every bit of that respect and fear on the battle field Sire. They had conquered many fierce adversaries before we finally put them in their place.”
“But the one world they could not defeat was this planet,” He stomped his boot. “The planet of Radis!”
“I had no idea the Rumphies ever challenged Radis Sir. But I must say I’m shocked to learn the Rumphies lost. Are you saying you went to the slave camp to ask the former commander of the Rumphie Armies for advice on attacking Radis? ”
“The Rumphies attacked Radis a little over twenty five years ago, Abar. The war lasted only three days. The Rumphies were repelled. General Lynchin Xing, Ex- Commander of the Rumphie empire was only a boy, too young to take part in that fight. But I knew he would know why, over the past twenty five years the overly aggressive Rumphies never tried to Attack Radis again.”
“Radis beat the Rumphies? Who would have thought”
“Yes, who indeed.”
“And, what did the great commander Xing answer you?”
“First he laughed, long and hard. Next, he warned me not to go.”
“It sounds to me like Xing was just trying to upset you. He probably still has sour grapes for your defeating him Sire.”
“Xing warned me, Radis is an elite society, much more advanced than the rest of the Cosmos. They don’t spend funds, time or energy developing weapons and strategies of war thus they’ve been able to make advances in other arenas that our society doesn’t even begin to understand.”
“Yes Boss, I’ve heard all that poop before about pacifist societies being better than, stronger than and smarter than everyone else. I think it’s all nonsense! You, Prince Juno, have orchestrated the most magnificent sneak attack ever conceived. You’ve conquered a planet without firing a weapon! And you did it all with your brain just as the old prophet advised. It’s been my honor to have known and served under you Sire. You are going to return home a hero!”
“Thank you for your loyalty all these years General.”
“Very shortly My Prince, the Radisians are going to arrive with the surrender documents signed. Then they will throw themselves at your feet and beg that you be merciful.”
“I hope you’re right Abar.”
“Then we will drink a toast to the success of this mission.”
“Prince Juno, I give you the Delegation from the Planet Radis.” General Abar swung opened the double doors. Two older distinguished looking men wearing long jewel encrusted robes, and small crowns on their heads followed by one tall, sinewy, bald man wearing a long white lab coat entered. The two men each held a set of papers one was bound by a red cover which The Prince recognized as the terms of surrender documentation he had sent to them to sign. The other was bound by a blue cover.
“Gentlemen, please come in.”
“Prince Juno,” The stoop shouldered man on the left greeted. “It is our privilege and honor to finally grace the presence of the one person who has single handedly conquered more than sixty eight percent of our universe.”
“Thanks for the compliment but coming from Pacifists I guess that would make me a kin to the devil in your eyes?”
“On the contrary,” The second dignitary explained. “We choose to live our way because it fits with everything about our circumstances, our place in the Cosmos, our dreams and culture but we don’t try to force our nonviolent lifestyle on anyone else. Everyone chooses their own way of life, their own path to take. We must accept and appreciate everyone else’s choices and cultures for us to be truly pacifist. We respect your view point because deep down we see that you really want the same things as we do.”
“And what is that?”
“Happiness for your families, freedom to live without being interfered with, health, wealth, a feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. You realize how sad it is to believe the only way to achieve those base neccessities are through violence and being feared, yet you know of no other way. So, you go out and conquer everything that may cause a threat around you. And I must say you’ve gotten very good at war. Even though we ourselves are pacifists, how can we not admire how the Krackle have taken warfare and elevated it to an art form level.”
Prince Juno frowned. “I gather you’ve signed our documents of surrender?” The Prince held out his claw to the man holding the red folder.
“No Sir we have not.” The Prince withdrew his claw. The stoop shouldered man tossed the folder onto the table in front of him. The individual papers spilled out. Bang! The Prince slapped his scepter down on top of the spilt file. He stared into the eyes of his three visitors. The Radisians watched with awe as the Krackle Prince’s pupils began to glow red.
“We’ve brought our own, revised version.” The taller Radisian held up the blue folder. “For you to look over.”
“The penalty states for me to blow up one of your cities.” The Prince rested his claws on the table top. His thin split tongue shot out of his lips then back again. “Which city would you like to wave bye bye to?”
The taller man dropped the blue file on the table. “It would be in your best interest to read our version of the surrender agreement before doing anything rash.”
Growling the lizard Prince flipped open the blue file he glanced at a few statements then flipped the page then read some more then flipped another page. “Is this a joke?”
“No Sir.”
“You expect me to surrender unconditionally to Radis?”
“You have not fired a weapon yet, only threatened us.” The stoop shouldered dignitary explained. “Our Doctrines of Passive Conduct will force us to take that into consideration. Technically, you have not yet attacked us. You don’t want to change that status.”
“I could have wiped out half your cities while your whole planet was sleeping through the eclipse!” Prince Juno hissed. “I should have realized the only thing anyone respects is the fist!” He slammed his claw down on the table. “Even Pacifists!”
“If you take any aggressive action against our planet or harm any inhabitants of Radis you and all your men will be die within seven days.”
“I thought you were pacifists? Now who is threatening who?” The Prince’s pupils were glowing full red now.
“You misunderstand.” Informed the taller dignitary. “We’re not threatening to harm anyone that would be against our code. We are simply prepared to not help save you.”
“Riddles? I hate games! Explain what you mean or I will give the order to vaporize your two biggest cities.”
“It’s all outlined in the blue folder, which you have refused to read.”
“I don’t have the time or patience nor any intention to sit and read through all those pages! If this is some type of bluff to stall for time, it is not working!”
“I can explain.” The tall man wearing the long lab coat offered stepping around the two dignitaries to approach the table. “You and your battalion made a grave mistake when you attacked our planet.”
“No we didn’t!” General Abar countered from his perch at the front door. “It was a well thought out and perfectly executed plan. I should warn you not to try His Majesty’s patience.”
“You and your army have been breathing our air and drinking our water for over two days now. How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“You could have and should have left your helmets on and breathed manufactured air and drank your own machine made water that I’m sure you brought along.”
“Why bother when we already know your atmosphere, air, water and food are all perfectly safe for Krackles.”
“That’s where you are wrong. Our planet, Radis has been infected with a deadly virus for years.”
“We would have heard. All manner of shipping vessels stop here all the time. Your planet would have been quarantined. Nice try.”
“It’s not something we’d want to advertise.”
“We had spies on your planet for the past couple of years. One of them would have reported this mysterious virus.”
“They never saw or heard about it because it’s been cured for years. Like I said our planet has been infected for a long time.”
“I don’t get you?”
“Your spies came in through proper channels. If you ask them they’ll tell you, they were inoculated with a series of needles as soon as they debarked their ships. They were vaccinated. As was everyone on our planet years ago. It turned out that if you are born on the planet by parents who were already exposed or vaccinated then the virus couldn’t harm you. You are immune because the virus is already in your system.”
“I say you are bluffing.”
“You have infirmaries on your ships and medical personnel. Call and see if I’m lying.”
“I’m on it Sire.” General Abar Collussis assured pulling his hand radio out of its holster.
“The virus itself is undetectable in its early stages. But, its symptoms are clear as day almost immediately: Nausea, headaches, diaries, dry mouth, fever and tiredness or loss of strength, lack of appetite. By the time its grown to detectable size, it’s too late and impossible to cure even with our vaccination. That’s why time is of the essence. You need to sign the papers so we can get started saving you and your men.”
“Give up and save yourself and your comrades!” The stoop shouldered debutante demanded shouting. "Or, perish in a horrifically painful death!”
“Abar, have our men return to wearing their full uniforms with helmets and oxygen tanks. And inform them to only drink and eat water and food that we’ve brought with us.”
“It is way too late for that. Everyone is already infected.”
“Sire, our medics are reporting there are a few men in our infirmaries with those symptoms. But those symptoms are so vague, how can we be sure they’re caused from this virus?”
“It’s started.” The taller dignitary stated. “Give up, sign the papers, before it’s too late! We have some serum but not enough to treat all your people. Making the serum takes time. We need to start making serum as soon as possible if we are to finish in time to save all of you.”
“Call your officers to survey their men in the field. You’ll see there’s plenty more of your men who are coming down with the symptoms but they just haven’t reported it yet.” The tall man wearing the lab coat advised. “But hurry!”
General Abar Collussis, began calling his officers to have them check their men for symptoms. As the word spread that their whole army might be infected with a deadly disease, more and more men started checking themselves into the infirmaries.
“What are the terms of our surrendering?” Prince Juno asked.
“Sire?” Abar turned to stare, his antennae twitching. “You can’t be serious!”
“I can’t risk all our troops dying.” Prince Juno glanced out a port hole at a line of parked, ideling, war ships. “We have over twelve hundred soldiers out there!” The Prince turned back to the delegation. “What will become of my troops?”
“We will cure them with our serum. They will go on to live long prosperous lives, I would hope.”
“As slaves on some barren planet, mining Yava ore?” The Prince’s red pupils had faded to almost black again. He was beginning to accept his situation.
“We are not in the slave trafficking business.” The stoop shouldered dignitary informed.
“Then what? Prison camps, until their families back home can save the money to purchase back their freedom?”
“How barbaric!” The stoop shouldered delegate voiced his disgust.
“Yes, terrible!” The taller delegate agreed. “Forgive us. We tend to forget how cruel you less sophisticated societies can be towards one another.”
“Just tell me, what will be the fate of my troops if I sign your surrender papers?”
“Our beliefs forbid us to exact any such revenge, seek retribution or punish your men in any way for this mistake of misjudgment made by your Government.” The taller dignitary explained.
“We are pacifists, remember.” The stoop shouldered man enlightened. “We accept the fact that from time to time, it is inevitable that our faith will be tested by the many violent cultures around us. We would be hypocrites if we simply picked up arms every time we were challenged by some brut. It is our obligation to promote the peaceful life, where ever we can, throughout the Cosmos. But we cannot use force to impose our way of life on others.”
“That’s all very noble but you still haven’t answered my question. I need to know what my men will have to suffer if I surrender?”
“Your troops won’t suffer any harm at our hands.” The taller man informed. “We practice non-violence. We have compassion for all living things. All disputes must be settled peacefully. We oppose war, violence or force being used to resolve disagreements. We refuse to participate in any kind of violence. We always try to negotiate.”
“The serum takes a few days to kick in before they’ll feel any relief from the symptoms caused by the virus.” The shorter hunch shouldered man assured. “By then, your whole army would have been on their ships and well on their way traveling homeward.”
“Everything is explained in the blue agreement of peace.” The taller man cut in to remind. “Which, you must sign before we begin treating your troops.”
“You want me to believe you are going to just let me and my whole captured army, just fly away unharmed. Knowing that when I get home, I’ll most likely be ordered to reload up with weapons and head straight back here to attack you for real?”
“We aren’t letting you go home, Prince.” The tall dignitary informed. “I’m sure your General will be able to navigate your battalions back to your mother planet without you.”
“What?” The Prince stared from one to the other dignitary.
General Abar Collussis’s mouth fell open. “Now hold on right there!...”
“We’ve learned by experience that if we keep the highest ranking leader of the attacking force, here with us on our planet, our enemies tend to be less quick to attack us again. Their minds conjure up visions of their adored, abandoned leader being heinously and endlessly tortured. Even the most accomplished warriors become leery of wishing to follow in those footsteps once they know what they’re risking.”
“I object!” The General shouted. “Sire are you going to let them talk to you that way?”
“There’s no need to be alarmed gentlemen. Remember we are pacifists. No harm will be done to the Good Prince. In fact he will be safer staying here on Radis. We know of the Krackle’s barbaric custom of their leaders killing oneself when faced with disgrace and dishonor.”
“It would be cowardly of me not to go home and face my disgrace.” The Prince stated flatly.
“On the contrary.” The taller dignitary announced. “Back home, you will be hailed as a hero who sacrificed himself to save the lives of the troops he led. Your story will become legendary. And, you’ll be helping us send all our ferocious enemies a strong message as to what they risk if they choose to attack Radis.”
“You’ll be treated quite well here and respected.” The shorter dignitary offered. “Plus, your knowledge and expertise will be valued and put to good use, of course, for defensive purposes only never offense. With us, you will be able to live out a long productive life.”
“I’m hoping,” The taller man resumed speaking. “That in time, we can convert you to value our way of thinking and by the time your kind gets up the nerve to try us again, we’ll have you on our side to help dissuade them, before they attack us.”
“Someone give me a pen.” Prince Juno scooped the blue folder of documents up in his claws.
“Sire!” General Abar Collussis hissed. “Are you sure?”
“They’ve beat us General.” Prince Juno took the pen offered from the tall gentleman. The Prince began to sign each page. “I didn’t want to say anything before but I myself am feeling some of the symptoms.”
“Sire?”
“But, I refuse to be treated until all of my men have had their dose of serum first.”
The tall gentleman scooped up the signed surrender documents. “Anticipating your cooperation Prince, we brought as much of the antidote solution with us as we could gather together on short notice. With your permission I’d like to start inoculating your troops right away?”
“Yes of course.” Prince Juno agreed. “Start immediately.” The Prince looked over at his General. “Abar, instruct the men and our officers to cooperate fully with the Radisians.”
“How many men do you have total Sir?” The tall Radisian asked the Prince.
“1136.”
“We must hurry.” The tall man said to his shorter companion. “There is still a lot of serum needed to be produced in order to treat all their soldiers.” He glanced back at the Prince. “Time is our only enemy now.”
“You’ve done the right thing Prince.” The shorter dignitary reached out his hand to shake Prince Juno’s claw. “Hang in there. We’ll be back soon.”
“Hurry!” General Collussis shouted at their backs as they headed out of his Prince’s command office.
“You are in charge now General.” The Prince informed. “I’m going to my chambers to rest.”
“Yes, by all means Sire, rest. Save your strength.”
“Clear the way!” The Krackle soldiers shouted as they anxiously escorted the Radisian adversaries down the hallway.
“You were great.” The tall distinguished man tapped the shorter man on his stooped shoulders in congratulations as they were hustled down the hallway.
“Not near as good as you were, my friend.” Stoop shoulders returned the compliment to his comrade.
The Krackle war ship’s hatch opened. The dignitaries walked out onto the ramp. The tall man held up the blue folder for the crowd of anxiously waiting Radisians to see. Stoop shoulders gave the crowd two thumbs up. A roar of applause erupted.
Inside the first largest vehicle of the parade of Radisian vehicles, King Fifferish, Ruler of Radis breathed a sigh of relief. “They did it! They subdued the beast!” The King jumped up for joy then kicked his heels together. “Lallo and Mentzer are the two best negotiators in Radis history!”
Two days later: A sullen Prince Juno stood on the sandy ground of the dessert saluting as the last of his men re-boarded the very last of his mighty warships. The inoculation of the Krackles against the deadly virus was finally complete.
They They had vaccinated the Krackles one warship load at a time. Once a complete ship’s crew was vaccinated, the ship was launched for home. A tear dripped from Prince Juno’s eye as he dropped the salute then waved his claw at his last ship as its engine fired up.
“Pack up folks.” The tall Radisian named Lallo ordered the Radisian medical crew who were manning the last serum dispensing tent. “We’re all done here.”
“Are you sure the serum will work?” The Prince asked as he watched his last ship soaring higher, past the clouds overhead. “Do you think everyone got their antidote in time?”
“Do you want to tell him or should I?” The shorter Radisian asked.
“Tell me what?” The Prince stared from one Radisian Delegate to the other as he rolled up his shirt sleeve so he could receive his own vaccination against the virus.
“I guess no harm can come from telling him now that the last ship has launched.”
“Tell me what?”
“You don’t have to roll up your sleeve, Prince.”
“You didn’t run out of serum did you?” The Prince laughed nervously.
“No. It’s just that there never really was any virus.”
“We invented the whole story.”
“Surely, you jest? You saw my men they were crippled by all the symptoms.”
“Once we planted the seeds, your men’s minds just took over…”
“Soon everybody had the virus.”
“Look at me. I’m sick. I’m infected. Stop fooling around and give me my shot of antidote!” The Prince pointed his claw at his now bare upper arm.
“It’s all in your head Prince. You really don’t need any serum.”
“No, give me the vaccine!”
“Okay, but it’s really only sugar water.”
“Just give it to me, please!” The Prince pleaded.
One of the techs stopped in front of the Prince then opened up his trunk. He took out a needle then jabbed the lizard Prince in his scaly right arm.
“Oh….” The Prince sighed. “Thank you.”
“All hale the power of the mind.” The tall delegate winked at the short delegate.
“I’m feeling better already.” Announced the Prince.
Krempton Pilzner raised the light meter high over his head then pressed the button that would record the intensity of the different colored light rays and invisible rays beaming towards him. He dropped the hand held gadget into his pocket, then grasped the mini-camera that hung from a cord around his neck. Krempton lifted the camera towards the heavens. He quickly snapped a few photos of the full, dark red, moon approaching the slightly bigger, paler yellow sun from the east as the orange sphere of the barren planet Demeca approached from the west.
It was easy to imagine the fear that would be going through his great, great ancestors minds if they had witnessed this very sight. It was also easy to understand why they had worshiped the planets, moon, sun and stars as if they were Gods. As the spheres moved closer to one another, they seemed to grow brighter. “Three Gods about to do battle.” He thought, envisioning the panic that would overcome an ancient civilization looking up and understandably believing their world was about to come to an end.
The media had said you shouldn’t stare. You could go blind. But it was hard not to admire the beauty of this once in a lifetime, naturally occurring, phenomenon. And as one gazed, it was hard not to let one’s mind wonder what every other inhabitant on the planet was thinking. Krempton’s scalp tingled, his mouth was dry but he smiled, knowing he would soon be experiencing something very, very special. Krempton, the scientist, felt like he was about to make a connection, spiritually with all the other species of his planet, maybe even a slight psychic connection with his whole universe.
Dr. Krempton Pilzner reached for the handlebars then twisted the throttle, revving the engine of his rugged, six wheeled vehicle designed to handle a wide variety of terrain. Krempton had historical data to record. He needed to be at the highest altitude he could get to, fast, to collect the most accurate readings. Determined, he eased the cycle into low gear then steered the vehicle off the dirt trail and into a dry but sandy-bottomed riverbed. The riverbed he hoped would take him closer to the summit of the hills.
Naturally all across the planet’s surface inhabitants in the know, were racing about to finish their last minute chores before the Big Sleep, as the media had nick named the coming blackout.
1000 miles northeast, Gillianna felt agitated and slightly frightened as she glanced at the harmless looking, glowing, color circles in the sky. “Complete darkness followed by a deeper darkness.” The newscaster had warned. “The middle, twenty four hours of the 48 hour blackout was to be darker than anything any of us has ever experienced. Zero light is suppose to be blacker than the blackest black we know. Some scientists are predicting our minds may project a different color than black just to cope, most likely a dark, brown and purple clay tone. Hundreds of miles from home, Gillianna knew, she had to find adequate shelter before the lights went out. 48 hours alone, stumbling and groping blind, along the deserted streets of an evacuated city would be unthinkable. And, Gillianna had heard, to control looting, the soldiers patrolling the cities were given orders, to shoot anything that they saw moving.
“They’re suggesting we all stay inside.” Tuttle Jones informed. “I picked up a bottle of tranquilizers for those of you who choose to sleep through it all.”
“The men are going to have to take shifts, keeping watch, guarding against looters.”
“I want to be outside the whole time.” Bebe Jones stated obstinately.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea Son.”
“This double eclipse won’t happen again for 400,866 years. I want to see it.”
“You’re going to feel it too.” Little, ten year old, Mimi Jones reminded. “They say the temperature is going to drop 20-25 degrees immediately, within the first two minutes. Then, 1-2 degrees every half hour for the first twenty four hour period before it begins to climb slowly back up again.”
“I’ll dress warm.” Bebe chuckled at his little sister. He held up his camera. “And, I’ll take plenty of photographs for the rest of you to see.”
“Well, If anyone does go outside.” Jama Jones advised. “I suggest we tie a long rope around their waist so we can pull them back in if need be.”
“Like a long leash.” The ten year old girl laughed.
“I’m not tethering myself up like some pet animal.” Bebe argued.
“Think of it, more like a mountain climber’s safety lead.” His mother Jama corrected. “Son, If you get disoriented out in the darkness, it will be very tough to survive 48 hours blind.”
“And,” Tuttle Jones warned. “Fifteen minutes after the eclipse starts, I’m shutting the front door and locking her tight. Whoever isn’t inside by then isn’t getting inside our home. Once locked that door isn’t opening for any reason or anyone until the blackout is over. With all the looters, schemers and crazies out roaming the streets it will be just too damn dangerous to leave our door open any longer.
Whooo!….Whooo!…Whooo!… “That’s the one hour warning whistle.” Jama Jones informed. “If any of you have anything you have to do outside the house before the darkness starts you had better get it done fast. You all heard your father’s warning, the front doors are locking tight, fifteen minutes after the total eclipse is in effect. So, don’t stray too far that you can’t get back home in time.”
The front door flew open, banging against the wall. “Guys!” Thin, blond Lulla Jones stuck her head inside the doorway. “You’ve got to come see the colors in the sky!” She raced back outside.
Jama and Tuttle shrugged then jogged after their teenage daughter. “Lulla!” The teen’s Mom shouted. “It’s one hour until eclipse time. Don’t wander far. I want everyone safely home, inside our front yard, fifteen minutes before the lights go all the way out.”
In the front yard, Jama and Tuttle gazed up at the sky in awe. Rings of shades of blue circled the full moon. Rings of red and orange circled the planet Demeca. Rainbows of colors flickered on then off sparking between the moon, Demeca and the yellow sun. Tuttle reached for Jama’s hand, then squeezed it affectionately. He pulled her in front of him then wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged. They stood in a standing spooning position gawking at the dazzling display in the sky. “It’s so beautiful!” Jama whispered.
“Wow!” Little Mimi waddled through the yard, her head tipped fully back, gawking wide mouthed. She stopped beside her parents to watch the sky change colors.
Bebe stood in the center of their yard snapping photographs. “Hey Mr. Pedigree.” Bebe shouted over the fence to his silver haired neighbor. “You got enough water and food to last the whole thing?”.
“Mrs. Pedigree’s been hoarding goodies down in our basement for the past few months. We’re stocked with can goods and all the essentials to last fifty days.”
“Ha, ha, ha…That’s good to hear.” Tuttle waved. “You can never have too much.”
“Good luck, folks.” Java wished.
“Yes, good luck to you and yours too.” Apollo Pedigree replied. “We’ll see you all in 48 hours!”
“If we don’t kill each other by then.”
Over 1000 miles northeast, Gillianna heard the footsteps racing to catch up to her. She ran faster, huffing and puffing almost out of breath. “Wait!” A man’s voice shouted. Exhausted, Gillianna ducked into a dark alley. “I have a fully charged Tazzer 413!” Gillianna bluffed. “And I know how to use it! So, if you know what’s good for you, don’t come in here!”
“I don’t mean you no harm.” The man shouted from the mouth of the alley. “It’s going to be dark soon and I thought it would be nice to spend the next 48 hours with someone.”
“I’m married!” She shouted adding. “…Happily!”
“I didn’t mean sex.” The man tried to explain. “I just meant that we seem to be the only two people who haven’t evacuated this part of the city. It’s going to be a long 48 hours with no one to talk to.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“We have to trust each other.” She didn’t say anything so he added. “Besides I know you don’t have a Tazzer.”
“Yes I do!”
“Listen, I have half a sandwich. I’m willing to share.”
“I have a candy bar and a few crackers.” She shouted back.
“Then we need to round up food, water and some shelter. We don’t have any time to spare. The light is fading quickly. So, you’d better make up your mind, if you don’t want to spend the next 48 hours in darkness all by yourself, starving, thirsty and cold.”
“I’m coming out! But, you’d better not try anything!”
On the dark side of Radis’s moon, inside large bubble tents the same tan color as the moon’s powdery surface, the Krackles gathered in groups waiting patiently, warming themselves in front of portable fireplaces. They sipped mugs filled with hot, spiced Zipa tadpole blood to calm their nerves. “Soon, soon.” They assured one another, patting each other on their dark purple, scaly backs with their claws. The pilots and crews, all could hear the loud revving of the engines of their fighter jets coming from outside as the teams of mechanics hustled to make last minute adjustments to their ships, preparing them for the upcoming battle.
Prince Juno stared out a small port window watching his lizard like compatriots scurrying from ladder to ladder, carrying different tools in their paws, their long tails dragging behind them. He saw four Despriots, chained together at the ankle and dressed in bright yellow, slave color spacesuits. “Probably captured during our recent raid on their little blue planet.” He mused. A Krackle guard snapped a long whip then pointed to a ramp. The slaves began carrying supplies and loading missiles onto the ramp leading into a battle ships lower holding compartment.
“Three more hours my Lord.” The plump General declared confidently, his wiggling antennae, showing his excitement. Which, is why he could never play card games for money. His antennae always alerted the other players when he had a winning hand. “Then the planet Radis will be at its most vulnerable. We’ll attack their planet while it’s in complete darkness. We will take them by complete surprise my Prince.”
“Yes, I know Abar.” He turned away from the tiny, round window.
“Yet, you still seem worried, Master?”
“War is always unpredictable, General.”
“This attack was well planned Sire. Genius even."
“Yes, it’s taken us three years to set up.”
“Three years, one tiny hover craft at a time carrying parts to build bigger ships. A
Tiny, slow flying vessel that would cause no suspicion. Yet, after 3 long years we’ve built us an army! Outside that window, we have two whole divisions of fully armed, fully fueled, fighter jets. Fine tuned and ready to go. We’re sitting within thirty minutes striking distance of our target, warming up our engines and the inhabitants of Radis have no idea.”
“Yes, the plan to patiently and secretly build this base on the dark side of their moon was genius.”
“Our spies on the ground say they’re totally engrossed in the excitement of the coming double eclipse. They’ve prepared entirely for thieves and looters, chaos caused by their own planet’s inhabitants. They’re totally unaware, nor ready, nor suspecting an invasion from another world.”
“Plus, we’re attacking from the dark side of their own moon so we should be inside their atmosphere before they have time to sneeze.”
“This is going to be the quickest war in Krackin history!”
“We cannot afford to fail.”
44 hours later:
On a mountain top, gazing out across the Lumena Desert through a pair of powerful binoculars, Dr. Krempton Pilzner ew'd and ah'd at the dazzling display of colorful light beams bouncing off the sandy hills stretching out below him for miles and miles. He let the binoculars fall then hang from their leather harness dangling around his neck. He gazed up at the sky at the three over-lapping beautiful fluorescent discs, one yellow, one red and one orange. Colored rainbows flashed on and off like strobes sparking as they arced, shouting from planet to moon to sun to moon then back to planet to sun to planet.
Occasionally laser beams of some bright color shot off in a tangent. Once in a while a stray beam would shine in the direction of the planet Aris to illuminate her surface with a fast moving colored circle like a flashlight beam would. Dr. Pilzner grasped his binoculars then raised them to his eyes. As he gazed out scanning the desert, he wondered if the assorted cameras he had set up on this mountain top, were even capable of capturing the beauty of the spectacular one of a kind light show. As his eyes combed the desert floor, Pilzner noticed a repeating series of dark black areas starting about ten miles away from the base of his mountain and stretching off to the northwest for a few miles in a checkerboard pattern. Curious, the Dr. pressed the infrared button on his binoculars so he could illuminate the dark spots. Next, he switched to his most powerful lens strength. What he saw shocked him so much he dropped the binoculars. He blinked his eyes, staring into the darkness then re-raised the binoculars for another look, just in case he was hallucinating.
The desert floor was covered with hundreds of enemy war ships. He knew for a fact the fighter ships had not been there before the double eclipse started but there they were now lined up very orderly in rows and columns. How they had gotten there he could not explain or comprehend. He also knew the fighters were not of the design used by his own planet for defense. Quickly, Dr. Pilzner raced to his tent to get his hand radio.
“Emergency! Emergency! 14G6 to base! I repeat, Emergency!” Dr. Pilzner shouted into his radio. “This is 14G6 reporting. I think our planet is under attack! Please advise?”
“What did you say 14G6? For a second there I thought I heard…”
“You heard correctly. I believe we’re being invaded!” The Doctor explained. “There’s unidentified space craft idling all over the desert. Hundreds of warrior ships!”
“That doesn’t make any sense 14G6. Have you been drinking?”
“No! I’m completely serious!”
“Have you been smoking that mountain fungi?”
“No, I’m not impaired.”
“Then why do we see nothing on our screens and monitors?”
“That’s because they’ve already landed.”
“Impossible!”
“14G6, Are you sure this isn’t some kind of mirage or illusion you’re seeing, brought on by the eclipse?”
“I wish I was imagining this, Base. I’ve never been more frightened in my life. There’s at least a battalion parked out there in the sand!”
“You stared at it didn’t you? You couldn’t help yourself. You stared at the eclipse and it not only blinded you, it’s made you insane too!”
“Base!” Dr. Krempton Pilzner shouted into his hand transmitter. “I am a man of science! I am not intoxicated! I see perfectly well! And, what I see scares the hell out of me! Now, I am officially reporting that we have been invaded by a heavily armed battalion of war ships that have successfully landed in the Lumena Desert. How should I proceed?”
“14G6, have the visitors taken any aggressive actions?”
“No they’re just sitting there, in the sand, idling, so far.” He answered nervously.
“But, I can see the weaponry mounted on their upper carriages. They are heavily armed. They are definitely not passenger ships or freighters.”
“But, you are sure they have not yet fired any weapons?”
“Not yet.”
“Then sit tight, 14G6. And don’t do anything to provoke them.”
“Yes Sir.”
“I’m sending scouts out to verify your report.”
“Hurry, Sir. Hurry!”
Back at the base Lieutenant Albeterie ordered. “Deploy some expedition teams to the Lumena Desert immediately to confirm or deny the outrageous claims made by 14G6.”
“Do you think it’s all a hoax Sir?”
“I sure hope so.”
“It can’t be real.” Captain Tillers walked over. “Two days ago, the Cosmo-sphere was deemed clear for trillions of miles around. I read the reports myself. There was no threatening battalions with in a one month’s flight of our planet. There wasn’t even a hint of an enemy fighter in the area. Plus, with all the hoopla being made about the coming double eclipse, all eyes have been on the skies for weeks. Even if we the government or our counter agency, the League of Defense overlooked something, surely one of the private scientific institutions or many amateur star gazers would have noticed the approaching war ships.”
“Unless someone’s developed a new mode of stealth travel.” A nearby radio controller offered.
“Or perhaps a whole new way of traveling all together.” Lieutenant Albeterie supposed.
“Do you know what you’re suggesting, Lieutenant?!”
Gillianna felt something warm on her right cheek. She opened her eyes to see a beam of sun light sneaking through a tiny space between two vertical blinds covering the window across the room. “Malvik.” She hissed shaking the lump buried in a blanket, lying next to her. “We made it!” She smiled.
“Huh?”
“Wake up!” She pulled the blanket off his head. “It’s all over!” She pointed to the light beam. “See!”
He yawned then squinted at her. “What if I say I don’t want it to be over?
“What?” She glared at him. He reached for her waist.
“No!” She swatted his hands aside then scooted further away from him. “Come on stop fooling around. We agreed, remember?”
“We agreed we would help each other through a bad time. That bad time doesn’t just end cause the sun’s shining outside.”
“Yes, it does. We’re both married! We need to get back to our families. I’m sure they’re worried about us.”
“Let them worry.”
“What the heck are you saying?”
“Just that I…Listen, I know the eclipse is over and I’m glad and happy that the sun is back. But, I just…”
“What?”
“Why do we have to rush back to the world?”
“Because we’ve just been through a terrible, terrifying ordeal and we have to get back to our old lives as quickly as possible to pick up the pieces and start living again.”
“But, I’m living now!”
“Don’t go there!”
“These last two days, which you call a terrifying ordeal, have been the best two days of my life! I don’t want them ever to end. And if that means living without the sun, well, that’s okay too.”
“Don’t do this Malvik. You aren’t in love with me. You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough to know I want to know more.”
“Well, you can’t! When we exit this building, we’re going to walk away from each other, heading in two different directions. That is the last time we will see each other, ever. And, we won’t try to contact each other.”
“Why?”
One quarter of a mile below Tuttle Jones’ home in the families’ tight quartered but cozy underground shelter. “Hey Pop?” Bebe Jones shook his Dad’s shoulder gently.
“Huh? Wha?...” Tuttle yawned.
“Dad,” Bebe whispered as he held the small clock in front of his Dad’s face. “The eclipse was over a few minutes ago.” The chunky teen whispered. “Why don’t me and you go up first to make sure everything topside is okay then we’ll come back down and wake up the rest of them?” Bebe gestured to the family members sleeping in all different contorted positions all over the room.
“Have patience Son.” Tuttle informed. “We can’t go topside until we’ve been given the all clear signal. “Why don’t you make yourself some breakfast but try not to make too much noise. Let the others sleep as long as they can.”
“I’d rather wait until I’m up there to eat.” The teen pointed his thumb towards the ceiling. “More choices.”
“Okay, then why don’t you turn on the big monitor screen and see if you can pick up any broadcastings. This way we can get an idea of what we’re looking forward to finding once we get back up to the surface.”
“Okay Pop.”
“Just keep the volume down.” Tuttle whispered. “Be respectful of the others.” Tuttle rolled over pulling his pillow over his head.
“How do I look?” Prince Juno asked, spitting on his claw then patting his side burns down. “First impressions are everything, especially when you’re trying to impose your will on the inhabitants of a newly conquered planet.”
“You look intimidating, dignified, distinguished and very determined Sir.” Chubby General Abar Collussis smiled at his boss. “I especially like the Lamal skin, long coat.” The chubby General held up a rag wet on one end. “Come here and let me put an extra sparkling shine on the medals you’ve chosen to display on your parka.”
“Yes, this promises to be such a momentous and historic occasion.” The Prince walked over to his subordinate. “I need to look sharp, there’s bound to be photos, statues and holograms made of my image to commemorate this date.”
“Hold still.” The General reached for one of his boss’s larger medals dangling from his coat’s lapel then began to shine it with the dipped rag. The orange stone imbedded in pewter began to glow. “There.” The General reached for another dangling military award then began to buff it up too. “I took the liberty to put two bottles of Tiger Snail liquor on chill, so we can have a formal victory toast with your members of cabinet right after the official surrender of the enemy ceremony.”
“Do you suppose the Radisians will stall much longer?”
“Nah, they have no choice. The members of their Royal Guard which make up 85% of their ground troops, abandoned their heavy artillery and most of their ground equipment and fled into the hills. We’ve taken over their launch pads. So, they can’t counter attack us with an air assault.”
“And all this without firing one shot.”
“We caught them completely off guard my Prince. I think they’re just understandably still in shock.” The General continued to shine another of his Boss’s medals. “Give them time. They’ll come around. What choice do they have. Their people went underground planning to be there only a few days to wait out the 48 hour blackout. The eclipse is over. They’ll start running out of food and supplies soon and will have to come top side.”
“I’d hoped we’d have the terms of their surrender formalized, agreed upon and all the documents signed by then.”
“Your Majesty,” General Abar Collussis barged into his Boss’s office, quickly saluted the Prince then reported. “A convoy of vehicles accompanying a parade of Radisians on foot, has been spotted about two miles north east, coming our way.”
“Good, Finally a reply.”
“They’re flying a white flag.” The chubby General smiled broadly.
“Anywhere else, that would be good news, Abar.”
“But?...” General Abar Collussis looked at his boss confused. “Sir? Surely this means, they’re surrendering. Which is what we’ve been waiting to hear.”
“The Radis planet’s regular flag is an all white square.”
“No colors, no symbols? But isn’t...”
“No stripes, stars, moons, words nothing but an all white square of fabric. They pride themselves on being a pacifist society.”
“Sir, are you saying they fly the symbol of cowardly surrender as their everyday symbol, representing their spirit and being?”
“They don’t consider that it means surrender, General. To them it means truce. Which is a cease fire! Both sides are agreeing to not fire, which is totally different than, one side saying, we give up. It is far from cowardly to expose one’s self by marching unarmed into the sites and range of one’s enemy’s most dangerous weapons waving your flag.” The Prince took a sip of Ardronian Cactus coffee which he’d been relying on for the past few hours to keep him alert. “Abar, after all the battles we’ve been through, have you ever seen me so nervous?”
“My Prince? Try to relax. It will all be over soon.”
“Since the time I became of age to enlist in the Academy of Galactic Battle Arts, there has always been a mystery concerning the mere mention of the planet Radis. This planet revolves at strategic crossroads, overlooking shipping routes between a number of non-life supporting galaxies rich in valuable minerals and a host of life rich galaxies who desperately need those minerals. It’s always been painfully obvious, from a military standpoint, whomever controlled Radis controlled the lower quadrant of the Cosmos. Yet, whether in a classroom or later during live war strategy sessions among my military minded colleagues, the mere mention of us, the Krackles, attacking Radis was met with the quickest and fiercest resistance. Radisians have never been considered friends of the Krackle. The word neutral is always used to describe them.”
“Yes, My Prince, but our Krackle vessels have always been allowed to cruise past, stop, re-supply, fuel up or to make repairs on their planet.” The General pointed out.
“They have always been more than accommodating to us.”
“But, Radis also allows our enemies to do the same.” The Prince countered. “So naturally I’ve always wondered what’s with this Radis place? Why have we never considered just taking the relatively tiny place over until now?”
“I guess the elders felt, why waste our energy fighting a non-threat like Radis, who has declared themselves neutral, when we have no shortage of real enemies who have declared they’d like to see all Krackles vaporized and are actively trying to extinguish us.”
“No, General there’s more to it than that. The Committee of Power has left the conquering of this planet Radis to last because I believe they are afraid of Radis. And, they chose me to supervise the mission because they don’t care if I fail.”
“Sir, that’s treason talk! I’ll forget I ever heard it.”
“No, General. The elders have always favored Lord Tizzizzim over me. If I were to fail that would open the door for Lord Tizz to make a bid for the office of Supreme Ruler of Krackle.”
“There’s plenty of Krackles, including myself, who favor you Sire over Lord Tizzizzim.”
“But if I were to fail and return home a disgrace…”
“But you’ve succeeded royally.”
“Then why do I feel like something’s not right?”
“Because, it was too easy. We’ve always had to struggle for every inch. You and I are used to slugging it out. This time we came armed with a superior plan. The plan worked so good, you are not ready to accept that it is all over and done.”
“General, what I am about to tell you I’ve never told anyone.”
“Your Majesty, you know you can always confide in me.”
“When I first learned that my new commission was to subdue the planet of Aris, at all costs. And, that the Committee of Power had deemed this the next necessary step for Kracken to achieve supreme control of this entire area. I went to see Vavel the Old Wiseman. Vavel warned me that fighting the Radisians would be nothing like any battles we, the Krackin have experienced so far. He warned, the outcome would not be decided by the sword, brut force, strength of numbers or tenacity. This was to be a battle of the minds.”
“That’s why you took your time and developed our three year plan Sir.” The general clapped. “You’ve beaten them with your brains not your brawn just as the good prophet Vavel predicted.”
“I also went to see Lynchin Xing.”
“Sir, you went to one of our slave camps to visit the conquered General of the Rumphie Army?”
“Yes Abar, the Rumphies of Gallaxy Q7 were one of our toughest opponents. The Final Battle For the Milky Way was the fiercest, engagement in Krackle history to date.”
“I was there Sir. I know firsthand how brutal and costly in Krackle casualties the skirmishes were. I almost lost my eye in a hand to hand tussle with one of the nasty Beatles. I have this scar to remind me every time I look in a mirror.” The General pointed to a gray bumpy line above his right eye and under his right antennae. “The Rumphie’s never give up.”
“Exactly, plus they are geniuses at strategic warfare. Well respected, feared and undefeated throughout the Cosmos, before we defeated them.”
“And they earned every bit of that respect and fear on the battle field Sire. They had conquered many fierce adversaries before we finally put them in their place.”
“But the one world they could not defeat was this planet,” He stomped his boot. “The planet of Radis!”
“I had no idea the Rumphies ever challenged Radis Sir. But I must say I’m shocked to learn the Rumphies lost. Are you saying you went to the slave camp to ask the former commander of the Rumphie Armies for advice on attacking Radis? ”
“The Rumphies attacked Radis a little over twenty five years ago, Abar. The war lasted only three days. The Rumphies were repelled. General Lynchin Xing, Ex- Commander of the Rumphie empire was only a boy, too young to take part in that fight. But I knew he would know why, over the past twenty five years the overly aggressive Rumphies never tried to Attack Radis again.”
“Radis beat the Rumphies? Who would have thought”
“Yes, who indeed.”
“And, what did the great commander Xing answer you?”
“First he laughed, long and hard. Next, he warned me not to go.”
“It sounds to me like Xing was just trying to upset you. He probably still has sour grapes for your defeating him Sire.”
“Xing warned me, Radis is an elite society, much more advanced than the rest of the Cosmos. They don’t spend funds, time or energy developing weapons and strategies of war thus they’ve been able to make advances in other arenas that our society doesn’t even begin to understand.”
“Yes Boss, I’ve heard all that poop before about pacifist societies being better than, stronger than and smarter than everyone else. I think it’s all nonsense! You, Prince Juno, have orchestrated the most magnificent sneak attack ever conceived. You’ve conquered a planet without firing a weapon! And you did it all with your brain just as the old prophet advised. It’s been my honor to have known and served under you Sire. You are going to return home a hero!”
“Thank you for your loyalty all these years General.”
“Very shortly My Prince, the Radisians are going to arrive with the surrender documents signed. Then they will throw themselves at your feet and beg that you be merciful.”
“I hope you’re right Abar.”
“Then we will drink a toast to the success of this mission.”
“Prince Juno, I give you the Delegation from the Planet Radis.” General Abar swung opened the double doors. Two older distinguished looking men wearing long jewel encrusted robes, and small crowns on their heads followed by one tall, sinewy, bald man wearing a long white lab coat entered. The two men each held a set of papers one was bound by a red cover which The Prince recognized as the terms of surrender documentation he had sent to them to sign. The other was bound by a blue cover.
“Gentlemen, please come in.”
“Prince Juno,” The stoop shouldered man on the left greeted. “It is our privilege and honor to finally grace the presence of the one person who has single handedly conquered more than sixty eight percent of our universe.”
“Thanks for the compliment but coming from Pacifists I guess that would make me a kin to the devil in your eyes?”
“On the contrary,” The second dignitary explained. “We choose to live our way because it fits with everything about our circumstances, our place in the Cosmos, our dreams and culture but we don’t try to force our nonviolent lifestyle on anyone else. Everyone chooses their own way of life, their own path to take. We must accept and appreciate everyone else’s choices and cultures for us to be truly pacifist. We respect your view point because deep down we see that you really want the same things as we do.”
“And what is that?”
“Happiness for your families, freedom to live without being interfered with, health, wealth, a feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. You realize how sad it is to believe the only way to achieve those base neccessities are through violence and being feared, yet you know of no other way. So, you go out and conquer everything that may cause a threat around you. And I must say you’ve gotten very good at war. Even though we ourselves are pacifists, how can we not admire how the Krackle have taken warfare and elevated it to an art form level.”
Prince Juno frowned. “I gather you’ve signed our documents of surrender?” The Prince held out his claw to the man holding the red folder.
“No Sir we have not.” The Prince withdrew his claw. The stoop shouldered man tossed the folder onto the table in front of him. The individual papers spilled out. Bang! The Prince slapped his scepter down on top of the spilt file. He stared into the eyes of his three visitors. The Radisians watched with awe as the Krackle Prince’s pupils began to glow red.
“We’ve brought our own, revised version.” The taller Radisian held up the blue folder. “For you to look over.”
“The penalty states for me to blow up one of your cities.” The Prince rested his claws on the table top. His thin split tongue shot out of his lips then back again. “Which city would you like to wave bye bye to?”
The taller man dropped the blue file on the table. “It would be in your best interest to read our version of the surrender agreement before doing anything rash.”
Growling the lizard Prince flipped open the blue file he glanced at a few statements then flipped the page then read some more then flipped another page. “Is this a joke?”
“No Sir.”
“You expect me to surrender unconditionally to Radis?”
“You have not fired a weapon yet, only threatened us.” The stoop shouldered dignitary explained. “Our Doctrines of Passive Conduct will force us to take that into consideration. Technically, you have not yet attacked us. You don’t want to change that status.”
“I could have wiped out half your cities while your whole planet was sleeping through the eclipse!” Prince Juno hissed. “I should have realized the only thing anyone respects is the fist!” He slammed his claw down on the table. “Even Pacifists!”
“If you take any aggressive action against our planet or harm any inhabitants of Radis you and all your men will be die within seven days.”
“I thought you were pacifists? Now who is threatening who?” The Prince’s pupils were glowing full red now.
“You misunderstand.” Informed the taller dignitary. “We’re not threatening to harm anyone that would be against our code. We are simply prepared to not help save you.”
“Riddles? I hate games! Explain what you mean or I will give the order to vaporize your two biggest cities.”
“It’s all outlined in the blue folder, which you have refused to read.”
“I don’t have the time or patience nor any intention to sit and read through all those pages! If this is some type of bluff to stall for time, it is not working!”
“I can explain.” The tall man wearing the long lab coat offered stepping around the two dignitaries to approach the table. “You and your battalion made a grave mistake when you attacked our planet.”
“No we didn’t!” General Abar countered from his perch at the front door. “It was a well thought out and perfectly executed plan. I should warn you not to try His Majesty’s patience.”
“You and your army have been breathing our air and drinking our water for over two days now. How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“You could have and should have left your helmets on and breathed manufactured air and drank your own machine made water that I’m sure you brought along.”
“Why bother when we already know your atmosphere, air, water and food are all perfectly safe for Krackles.”
“That’s where you are wrong. Our planet, Radis has been infected with a deadly virus for years.”
“We would have heard. All manner of shipping vessels stop here all the time. Your planet would have been quarantined. Nice try.”
“It’s not something we’d want to advertise.”
“We had spies on your planet for the past couple of years. One of them would have reported this mysterious virus.”
“They never saw or heard about it because it’s been cured for years. Like I said our planet has been infected for a long time.”
“I don’t get you?”
“Your spies came in through proper channels. If you ask them they’ll tell you, they were inoculated with a series of needles as soon as they debarked their ships. They were vaccinated. As was everyone on our planet years ago. It turned out that if you are born on the planet by parents who were already exposed or vaccinated then the virus couldn’t harm you. You are immune because the virus is already in your system.”
“I say you are bluffing.”
“You have infirmaries on your ships and medical personnel. Call and see if I’m lying.”
“I’m on it Sire.” General Abar Collussis assured pulling his hand radio out of its holster.
“The virus itself is undetectable in its early stages. But, its symptoms are clear as day almost immediately: Nausea, headaches, diaries, dry mouth, fever and tiredness or loss of strength, lack of appetite. By the time its grown to detectable size, it’s too late and impossible to cure even with our vaccination. That’s why time is of the essence. You need to sign the papers so we can get started saving you and your men.”
“Give up and save yourself and your comrades!” The stoop shouldered debutante demanded shouting. "Or, perish in a horrifically painful death!”
“Abar, have our men return to wearing their full uniforms with helmets and oxygen tanks. And inform them to only drink and eat water and food that we’ve brought with us.”
“It is way too late for that. Everyone is already infected.”
“Sire, our medics are reporting there are a few men in our infirmaries with those symptoms. But those symptoms are so vague, how can we be sure they’re caused from this virus?”
“It’s started.” The taller dignitary stated. “Give up, sign the papers, before it’s too late! We have some serum but not enough to treat all your people. Making the serum takes time. We need to start making serum as soon as possible if we are to finish in time to save all of you.”
“Call your officers to survey their men in the field. You’ll see there’s plenty more of your men who are coming down with the symptoms but they just haven’t reported it yet.” The tall man wearing the lab coat advised. “But hurry!”
General Abar Collussis, began calling his officers to have them check their men for symptoms. As the word spread that their whole army might be infected with a deadly disease, more and more men started checking themselves into the infirmaries.
“What are the terms of our surrendering?” Prince Juno asked.
“Sire?” Abar turned to stare, his antennae twitching. “You can’t be serious!”
“I can’t risk all our troops dying.” Prince Juno glanced out a port hole at a line of parked, ideling, war ships. “We have over twelve hundred soldiers out there!” The Prince turned back to the delegation. “What will become of my troops?”
“We will cure them with our serum. They will go on to live long prosperous lives, I would hope.”
“As slaves on some barren planet, mining Yava ore?” The Prince’s red pupils had faded to almost black again. He was beginning to accept his situation.
“We are not in the slave trafficking business.” The stoop shouldered dignitary informed.
“Then what? Prison camps, until their families back home can save the money to purchase back their freedom?”
“How barbaric!” The stoop shouldered delegate voiced his disgust.
“Yes, terrible!” The taller delegate agreed. “Forgive us. We tend to forget how cruel you less sophisticated societies can be towards one another.”
“Just tell me, what will be the fate of my troops if I sign your surrender papers?”
“Our beliefs forbid us to exact any such revenge, seek retribution or punish your men in any way for this mistake of misjudgment made by your Government.” The taller dignitary explained.
“We are pacifists, remember.” The stoop shouldered man enlightened. “We accept the fact that from time to time, it is inevitable that our faith will be tested by the many violent cultures around us. We would be hypocrites if we simply picked up arms every time we were challenged by some brut. It is our obligation to promote the peaceful life, where ever we can, throughout the Cosmos. But we cannot use force to impose our way of life on others.”
“That’s all very noble but you still haven’t answered my question. I need to know what my men will have to suffer if I surrender?”
“Your troops won’t suffer any harm at our hands.” The taller man informed. “We practice non-violence. We have compassion for all living things. All disputes must be settled peacefully. We oppose war, violence or force being used to resolve disagreements. We refuse to participate in any kind of violence. We always try to negotiate.”
“The serum takes a few days to kick in before they’ll feel any relief from the symptoms caused by the virus.” The shorter hunch shouldered man assured. “By then, your whole army would have been on their ships and well on their way traveling homeward.”
“Everything is explained in the blue agreement of peace.” The taller man cut in to remind. “Which, you must sign before we begin treating your troops.”
“You want me to believe you are going to just let me and my whole captured army, just fly away unharmed. Knowing that when I get home, I’ll most likely be ordered to reload up with weapons and head straight back here to attack you for real?”
“We aren’t letting you go home, Prince.” The tall dignitary informed. “I’m sure your General will be able to navigate your battalions back to your mother planet without you.”
“What?” The Prince stared from one to the other dignitary.
General Abar Collussis’s mouth fell open. “Now hold on right there!...”
“We’ve learned by experience that if we keep the highest ranking leader of the attacking force, here with us on our planet, our enemies tend to be less quick to attack us again. Their minds conjure up visions of their adored, abandoned leader being heinously and endlessly tortured. Even the most accomplished warriors become leery of wishing to follow in those footsteps once they know what they’re risking.”
“I object!” The General shouted. “Sire are you going to let them talk to you that way?”
“There’s no need to be alarmed gentlemen. Remember we are pacifists. No harm will be done to the Good Prince. In fact he will be safer staying here on Radis. We know of the Krackle’s barbaric custom of their leaders killing oneself when faced with disgrace and dishonor.”
“It would be cowardly of me not to go home and face my disgrace.” The Prince stated flatly.
“On the contrary.” The taller dignitary announced. “Back home, you will be hailed as a hero who sacrificed himself to save the lives of the troops he led. Your story will become legendary. And, you’ll be helping us send all our ferocious enemies a strong message as to what they risk if they choose to attack Radis.”
“You’ll be treated quite well here and respected.” The shorter dignitary offered. “Plus, your knowledge and expertise will be valued and put to good use, of course, for defensive purposes only never offense. With us, you will be able to live out a long productive life.”
“I’m hoping,” The taller man resumed speaking. “That in time, we can convert you to value our way of thinking and by the time your kind gets up the nerve to try us again, we’ll have you on our side to help dissuade them, before they attack us.”
“Someone give me a pen.” Prince Juno scooped the blue folder of documents up in his claws.
“Sire!” General Abar Collussis hissed. “Are you sure?”
“They’ve beat us General.” Prince Juno took the pen offered from the tall gentleman. The Prince began to sign each page. “I didn’t want to say anything before but I myself am feeling some of the symptoms.”
“Sire?”
“But, I refuse to be treated until all of my men have had their dose of serum first.”
The tall gentleman scooped up the signed surrender documents. “Anticipating your cooperation Prince, we brought as much of the antidote solution with us as we could gather together on short notice. With your permission I’d like to start inoculating your troops right away?”
“Yes of course.” Prince Juno agreed. “Start immediately.” The Prince looked over at his General. “Abar, instruct the men and our officers to cooperate fully with the Radisians.”
“How many men do you have total Sir?” The tall Radisian asked the Prince.
“1136.”
“We must hurry.” The tall man said to his shorter companion. “There is still a lot of serum needed to be produced in order to treat all their soldiers.” He glanced back at the Prince. “Time is our only enemy now.”
“You’ve done the right thing Prince.” The shorter dignitary reached out his hand to shake Prince Juno’s claw. “Hang in there. We’ll be back soon.”
“Hurry!” General Collussis shouted at their backs as they headed out of his Prince’s command office.
“You are in charge now General.” The Prince informed. “I’m going to my chambers to rest.”
“Yes, by all means Sire, rest. Save your strength.”
“Clear the way!” The Krackle soldiers shouted as they anxiously escorted the Radisian adversaries down the hallway.
“You were great.” The tall distinguished man tapped the shorter man on his stooped shoulders in congratulations as they were hustled down the hallway.
“Not near as good as you were, my friend.” Stoop shoulders returned the compliment to his comrade.
The Krackle war ship’s hatch opened. The dignitaries walked out onto the ramp. The tall man held up the blue folder for the crowd of anxiously waiting Radisians to see. Stoop shoulders gave the crowd two thumbs up. A roar of applause erupted.
Inside the first largest vehicle of the parade of Radisian vehicles, King Fifferish, Ruler of Radis breathed a sigh of relief. “They did it! They subdued the beast!” The King jumped up for joy then kicked his heels together. “Lallo and Mentzer are the two best negotiators in Radis history!”
Two days later: A sullen Prince Juno stood on the sandy ground of the dessert saluting as the last of his men re-boarded the very last of his mighty warships. The inoculation of the Krackles against the deadly virus was finally complete.
They They had vaccinated the Krackles one warship load at a time. Once a complete ship’s crew was vaccinated, the ship was launched for home. A tear dripped from Prince Juno’s eye as he dropped the salute then waved his claw at his last ship as its engine fired up.
“Pack up folks.” The tall Radisian named Lallo ordered the Radisian medical crew who were manning the last serum dispensing tent. “We’re all done here.”
“Are you sure the serum will work?” The Prince asked as he watched his last ship soaring higher, past the clouds overhead. “Do you think everyone got their antidote in time?”
“Do you want to tell him or should I?” The shorter Radisian asked.
“Tell me what?” The Prince stared from one Radisian Delegate to the other as he rolled up his shirt sleeve so he could receive his own vaccination against the virus.
“I guess no harm can come from telling him now that the last ship has launched.”
“Tell me what?”
“You don’t have to roll up your sleeve, Prince.”
“You didn’t run out of serum did you?” The Prince laughed nervously.
“No. It’s just that there never really was any virus.”
“We invented the whole story.”
“Surely, you jest? You saw my men they were crippled by all the symptoms.”
“Once we planted the seeds, your men’s minds just took over…”
“Soon everybody had the virus.”
“Look at me. I’m sick. I’m infected. Stop fooling around and give me my shot of antidote!” The Prince pointed his claw at his now bare upper arm.
“It’s all in your head Prince. You really don’t need any serum.”
“No, give me the vaccine!”
“Okay, but it’s really only sugar water.”
“Just give it to me, please!” The Prince pleaded.
One of the techs stopped in front of the Prince then opened up his trunk. He took out a needle then jabbed the lizard Prince in his scaly right arm.
“Oh….” The Prince sighed. “Thank you.”
“All hale the power of the mind.” The tall delegate winked at the short delegate.
“I’m feeling better already.” Announced the Prince.
Dr. Strass by Stuart Leventhal
Click“Doctor Strass?” The commentator turned to address the plump
Santa Clause look alike sitting
across the table. “What’s your thought on time travelling? Do you think it’s possible to go back
and forth in time and if so, will man be able to achieve this uncanny ability anytime soon?”
The camera zoomed in on the plump round face covered with an all white beard. With his fingertips, Doctor Strass combed the thin wisps of white hair back on his mostly bald head. “While the idea of jumping back and forth in time is a quite charming perception, the reality of a person waking up in the morning and choosing, willy nilly, what century he or she would like to spend the day visiting, just doesn’t seem feasible on so many levels.”
“Booo!..” The audience voiced their disapproval. “Hiss!...”
“Now, now…” The professor held his hand up waiting for the crowd to quiet. He continued. “I know many of my colleagues disagree but scientifically…”
“Booo!...Hissss!...”
“I personally must admit, I agree with you all. I really love the romanticism of the idea of time travel too but, there’s laws of nature that must be considered.”
“Booo!”
“Even our motion picture industry, in many of its science-fiction movies and shows realized the disasters that could be caused by a time traveler accidentally altering just one tiny little thing in the past. How can the present and future be adjusted to correctly reflect what was changed?”
“Didn’t Einstein believe in time travel?”
“Einstein was a very open minded genius. He seemed to think that just about anything man could conceive of doing could and would eventually be achieved someday.”
“But you seem to be very skeptical Doc?”
“I think nothing would be more fascinating or educational than to be able to go see and experience, first hand, what’s going on fifty years from now and then come back to the present and apply what you’ve learned.”
“But?...”
“But, the actual science involved would be extremely complicated.”
“Complicated but not impossible?”
“Well, if time travel was discovered, anytime in our future, then why haven’t we been visited yet? You would think, advanced humans would be dropping by all the time. I think, going on vacation into the past would be a big industry. Researchers would be popping in to check the details of recorded history against the real live thing. It would be easy to figure out who shot Kennedy, just blink yourself down to the grassy knoll five minutes before the shooting.”
“Good points Professor. And, thank you for joining us today. We only have time for one more question.” The commentator pointed out into the audience. “The gentleman wearing the red shirt on in the far back row has been patient all day.”
“If our future hasn’t already happened in some form, how would you explain all the psychic premonitionists throughout the globe claiming they’ve seen glimpses of what’s coming? Surely there are a lot of hoaxsters out there but still there are tons of reports of legitimate psychics and medians who have helped police find missing bodies, solve crimes and warn of coming disasters that later come true.”
Doctor Norman Strass stared into the camera. “I can’t explain it and would not even attempt to try.” The Doc winked into the camera.
“That’s all the time we have folks.” The commentary stood clapping. The audience immediately joined in the applause. “Doctor Strass, once again thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to indulge us.”
“It was my pleasure Sir.” The Doctor smiled, waving at the camera. “Are we off the air?” The Doc asked whispering through gritted smiling teeth.
“Yes.” The producer stepped out of the shadows then walked over holding his hand out. “You were wonderful Doctor.”
“Thank you.” They shook hands. “Thanks for having me.”
“I’d like to have you back on our show in a few months. We’re going to be discussing the possibility of life existing on one or more of the other planets in our solar system.”
“Ah yes, sure. The search for life somewhere other than on earth is one of my most favorite subjects.” The doctor lifted his briefcase up off the floor then laid it on the table in front of himself. He popped the briefcase open then began gathering up his notes and dropping them inside. “Just give my secretary a buzz so she can pencil it in to my schedule.” He smirked then whispered. “I believe in Martians you know.”
“Really?”
“No, Just kidding you. Ha, ha, ha…” The Doc laughed. “It’s much too cold and then there’s the lack of water thing which all living things seem to need. And, the atmosphere is all wrong. Plus…”
“You had me going.” The producer cut in to laugh with the Doc.
“But I’m not sure life couldn’t find some other way to adapt to adverse conditions on at least one of our other neighboring planets. Of course life might not mean the same thing on Pluto as it does on earth.” He chuckled. “And of course…”
“Hold that thought for our next show Doc.” The producer teased.
“Yes of course. Where are my manners.” The Doc closed his briefcase. “I keep forgetting, everyone doesn’t have the same enthusiasm for the sciences as I do.”
“But that’s why our viewers love you so.” The producer praised. “You can disperse with the boring classroom clichés like text books and replace all the technical jargon with regular words everyone knows and make a tough subject, fun and understandable for the average bloke. That is a real teaching talent my friend.”
“Why thank you.” The Doctor smiled.
“And you are good for our ratings too, Doc.” The Producer slapped the Doc friendly like on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in a few months.” He walked off.
“Doctor Strass?” A man wearing a black tuxedo and dark sunglasses stood by the edge of the stage waving his hand to get the Doc’s attention. The man held up a white sign that read Dr. Norman Strass’s limo to airport. “Whenever you’re ready Doc.” He shouted. “I’m your escort.”
The Doctor stood up then lifted his briefcase off the table. He approached the limo driver. “Take me home Sir.” Doc held out his briefcase for the chauffer to carry. “I’ve had enough of big city life to last a while.”
The chauffer smiled grasping the briefcases handle. “No other baggage Sir?”
“I sent it on ahead of me.”
“Well that makes my job easy.” The driver turned to face a hallway. “Follow me Sir.” The Chauffer led the way through wide open double doors then down a thick carpeted hallway. The hall began to curve. After a while the Doc realized there were no windows or doors just a few pieces of framed art work hanging here and there on the walls.
“Does it seem like we’re walking around and around in a circle to you too?” The Doc asked.
“Yes.” The chauffer kept walking.
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
The Chauffer just shrugged and continued to walk. “We’re almost there.”
After about fifty more steps the hallway straightened out again and a wide door appeared at the end with two burley men standing on each side.
“Halt!” One of the door guards held his hand up for them to stop. Doc looked over at the chauffer.
The chauffer handed Doc his briefcase. “This is as far as I go Pops.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were driving me to the airport?”
“Someone on the other side of the door will escort you from here.” The chauffer turned. “Enjoy your trip Doc.” He started walking back the way they had come.
One of the burley guards pulled open the large red door. The other stepped forward to grasp the Doctor’s elbow firmly. He tugged the Doc forward so the first guard could grasp his other elbow. Together they pulled the Doctor towards a bright, smoke filled doorway.
“Wait! Whats going on? Help!” The Doc was dragged forward until he was enveloped in smoke. The large hands released their grasp on Doc’s elbows then the guards stepped backwards out of the smoke. Before the Doc had time to react, the door was slammed in his face. VVVVVV!!!... The floor beneath the Doctor’s shoes began to vibrate. The smoke started to swirl all around him. The lighting got brighter then dimmer, brighter then dimmer, brighter then dimmer. “Help!” The Doctor shouted. He held his breath and shut his eyes. VVVVVV!!!...The floor continued vibrating.
Finally the vibrations started to slow then stopped completely. Doctor Strass opened his eyes to see he was still enveloped in the thick, raspberry tasting smoke. Clunk, clank. A door opened in front of him. The Doc instinctively raced through the doorway and into a hall. He fell to his knees chocking and coughing.
“Easy Doc.” Doctor Strass looked up at a well dressed man standing in front of him. “Chug some water?” The man held out a glass of liquid.
The doctor took hold of the glass. He took a sip. “Who are you?”
“I’m a TV Producer.” The man answered. “Feeling any better?”
“No!” The Doctor struggled to his feet. He saw the cameramen standing behind the movie maker filming what was happening. “Turn those cameras off or I’ll have my lawyer sue you! I never consented to being filmed by you jokers!”
“Someone didn’t read the small print on their contract with WBYZ Broadcasting.”
“Sure I did.” The Doc countered.
“It clearly states, we can use you in any of our productions Doc.”
“I never signed anything that said you could humiliate me and use me as the brunt of some low class jokes.”
“Hey, hold on Doctor! I think we’re starting off on the wrong foot.”
“You are wrong. We aren’t starting off on any foot! Now where is your front door? I’m not going back through all that smoke and nonsense!”
“Okay, I admit I I’ve tricked you into coming here. But at least let me tell you about our show before you go off half cocked.”
“I’m going to miss my plane!”
“We’ll get you a ticket for the very next flight plus pay you one thousand dollars to just listen.”
“You have a very peculiar way of doing business Sir. It’s highly irregular.”
“First, let me say we had to trick you. Tricking you is a big part of our show. Our fans have come to expect it from us.”
“I don’t do those kinds of shows. I’m a scientist. I do discussion panel shows.”
“You just finished a show where you said time travel was probably impossible and man would, most likely, never figure out how to travel back and forth in time.”
“Correct.”
“Well then, that’s what makes you the perfect candidate for our show. You see we’re a show that’s airing approximately 200 years in the future from the show you just finished.”
“Ha, ha, ha! I get it. You want me to believe the smoke filled, vibrating room, I just came through was some sort of time portal. How cute, really quite creative. And, I must say you’ve peaked my interest. I’ll play along, for now.”
“Great. How would you like to meet Einstein?”
“Yes certainly but that would be going back in time. You said we went 200 years into the future?”
“Well, we brought Albert here first, before you transported through.”
“Oh, okay.” The Doctor agreed winking into the camera. “Let’s go meet the old man. What is he about ninety years older than me?”
“Officially yes. But, actually we transported you both through at approximately the same physical ages. So you’d be more comfortable relating to one another and conversing than you would if he came to visit us here as a teenager and you came as a man. ”
“Oh sure, that makes sense.”
“So shall we go meet the genius?”
“Lead the way. You’re paying for this party. By the way, what can a fellow buy for $1000 dollars now a days, considering 200 years of depreciation coupled with 200 years of inflation?”
“You are quick Professor.”
“I hope I’ll have at least enough for cab fare to the airport and a sandwich.”
“Ha…ha! And, you’re funny too. I hope you’ll show that side of yourself on our show.”
“Well, I can see producers haven’t changed any in 200 years.” Doc chuckled. “Tell me more about this show of yours.”
“That’s the spirit Doc. I knew you’d come around.” The Producer tapped Doctor Strass on his shoulders. “Follow me down to costume and makeup. And, I’ll fill you in. You know, if you’re not careful, you might even end up having some fun.”
“Oh…do I have to do make up again? I just sat through makeup an hour ago for the last show.”
“Correction, the last time you went through makeup was over 200 years ago. Now don’t you agree, you’re due for a little sprucing up?”
The Doc laughed. “Yeah, now that you put it that way.”
“Besides Doc, your clothes are 200 years out of style.”
“I think they were out of style even 200 years ago.” The Doc joked back.
“Also, as you can imagine, makeup has come a long way in 200 years. We can build you a whole different nose for the show, if you’d like.”
The Doc’s reflex reaction was to touch his nose with his fingertips while muttering. “What’s wrong with my nose?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s a perfect nose. It’s got character.” The Producer assured. “I was just trying to explain that we’ve made significant advances in 200 years in all arenas even makeup.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” The Doc assured.
“Then you’ll let our costume and makeup people doll you up appropriately?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“Great.” An elevator door opened. The producer stepped inside. The cameraman followed. The Doc stared in but hesitated to enter. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not going to fill up with smoke?” The Doctor asked.
“No Doc. This is just a regular elevator,” The producer assured. “It’s perfectly safe. Climb aboard.” The Doc stepped in. The doors closed. “Now, about the show…”
“Yes, the show.” The elevator began to move.
“When we first developed time travel, naturally everyone wanted to go somewhere, right away. But we couldn’t send everyone, due to the cost involved. The process was very expensive and is still very expensive. Thus the idea for a show came about where we would bring back celebrities from the past, here to our studio. Everyone at home can watch and be involved through our broadcasts or if they get picked by lottery ticket they can participate in the audience. We air live, thus most of us get to experience it second handedly through the guests’ stories.”
“Yes of course, that makes sense.” Doctor Strass agreed. “Time travel, if figured out, like you say it has been, would have to be tightly regulated. You can’t have droves of people just bouncing in then out of different time periods, appearing and disappearing at will. It would cause coax throughout history.” The Doc smiled. “Which is one of the reasons I said time travel would never be figure out.”
“Now, now Doc. I’ve already told you, time travel has been discovered. So play nice. This is not the time for sour grapes.” The elevator doors opened. The producer stepped out into a hall.
“Oh, forgive me. I forgot this is one of those shows.” Doc smirked into the camera then stepped off the elevator to follow the tall producer.
“Ha, ha, ha, Doc.” The cameraman jogged in front of the two men so he could capture their playful banter. “You’d better save your energy for sparing with the ultimate genius. We wouldn’t want Einstein to make a fool out of you.”
“Oh, I can spar.” Doc assured the Producer.
“We’ll see.” The Producer opened a door marked, makeup and costumes.
“Tell them not to make me too pretty.” Doc Strass smirked. “We wouldn’t want Einstein to feel inadequate.”
“You are quite cocky Doctor. That’s probably the first time, Einstein and the word inadequate have been used in the same sentence.” He held the door opened for Doc as he shouted. “Useph, Mariah! You have a customer!”
“Hello.” A slim, tall, stoop shouldered woman with a dark Mid-eastern complexion wearing a beaded, fringed, peasant dress jogged over, followed by a thin, slightly shorter man with a buzz cut and a pencil mustache. “You must be Dr. Strass from the twentieth century?”
“Welcome Doctor.” The thin man piped in. “We’ve been expecting you.”
”Give the good Doctor the full treatment.” The Producer ordered.
“I really don’t think I need the full treatment.” The tall woman moved behind Doc, stood on his tip toes then reached over to massage the Doc’s scalp with her long, boney fingers. “All though, that does feel nice.”
“Have a seat.” The thin man offered. Wheeling over a heavily padded chair with wheels instead of legs. “Then we can roll you from one station to another.”
“You might consider strapping this fella down.” The producer advised jokingly. “He’s a frisky one.”
The woman was now massaging the Doc’s shoulders. “Oh, I don’t think he’s going to be any trouble at all.”
“Mmmm…” The Doc moaned. “Yes, I think the full treatment might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“I’ll be back in about an hour then?” The producer turned then headed towards the door.
“We’ll have him ready Sir.”
An hour and a half later: The Producer arrived to pick up Doctor Strass. “Show time Doc!” He shouted into the empty front room.
The tall Mariah stepped out from behind the curtained off back area. “Sir, I’d like to introduce the new and improved. Doctor Norman Strass. Mariah pulled the curtain aside to expose the Doc.
“Wow! Look at you!” The Producer turned to Useph and Mariah. “Great job as always.”
The Doc stepped into the front room to stare at himself in the full, wall mirror. “They talked me into the Napoleon Bonaparte look.” Doctor Strass ran his hands down the sides of his velvet and velour jacket enjoying the feel of the material.
“Yes, I see,” The Producer nodded. “Kind of sturdy, severe, distinguished. Is he taller?”
“We put lifts in his boots.”Useph explained.
“I think the audience is going to eat you up Doc.” The producer motioned with his hand for Doc Strass to follow him as he headed towards the door. “We don’t have much time. We’re broadcasting live in ten minutes.”
“Good luck Doc.” Mariah encouraged as they left her studio.
“Yeah, Einstein?” Useph joked. “Who’s Einstein?
In the hallway, Doc posed for the cameraman tucking the fingers of his right hand into his jacket between two buttons characteristically the same as the real Napoleon Bonaparte’s habit. “Come on showoff.” The Producer grasped Doc by the elbow. “Let’s get you down to the studio.” He led the new Doc down the hallway.
“Listen, Doc, here’s a few pointers.” The Producer offered. “Don’t mess around with this guy, come out swinging. Don’t let him sucker you into any of his games. And, if you see an opening, pounce! Remember Albert is a genius. You don’t want to spar toe to toe with a genius.”
The Producer stopped then pointed. “You’re on your own from here Doc. Just keep going straight. The arena’s right through those double doors.” The Doc walked on a little nervously. “Chin up!” The Producer ordered. “You’re going to do just fine!”
As the double doors opened, the bright lights from inside the arena, shown into Doc’s eyes. The crowd roared. “Dr. Strass! Dr Strass! Dr.Strass!...” Hearing his name being chanted, The Doctor held his head up higher then continued down the isle towards the elevated stage.
The stage looked like it was covered by a giant half bubble made out of chain link fencing. Curiously, the Doc climbed the stairs leading to an open fence like door. At the door way, the Doc was met by a stocky older man who held out his calloused hand. “Greetings Doc Strass. I’m your studio appointed Corner Coach.” He ignored Doc’s confused look, grasped Doc’s hand then shook it smiling. “Just remember if things get too intense for you in there, just tap the mat two times and I’ll throw in the towel then the referee will stop the match. Naturally the crowd might booo a little. They hate to see a quitter. But, our number one concern is keeping you safe, so you can come back to compete a few more times at least.”
“Is that?...” Doc glanced across the caged in stage to see an average sized man, dressed in leopard skin, like a caveman, jumping up and down in the far corner. The whole floor of the caged in stage was made of some type of trampoline material, the Doc guessed, because the caveman was bouncing then doing tumble saults and flips like a circus trapeze artist.”
“Don’t pay attention to Einstein. He’s trying to psych you out. Ever since his match against Sigmund Freud, he’s been acting that way.”
“Who won?”
“It was a draw. Albert’s still mad about it. He says the judges were paid off. To tell you the truth Doc, most of us around the studio are sick and tired of his, I’m better than everybody, superiority attitude. We’re all secretly hoping you knock him off his pedestal.”
“But, I’m no fighter! I was supposed to take Albert on intellectually; a scientific debate or astrology questions or mathematical equations…”
“Those kinds of time travel shows went out of style over half a century ago Doc.”
“Oh come on. You’re pulling my leg! Why would anyone want to watch two out of shape snobs fight each other when you could watch the greatest Spartan Olympians square off against a 20th century martial artist champion?”
“Those shows have all been done Doc.”
“Who won?”
“It varies. Sometimes the Spartan, sometimes the more modern athlete. But, when the winner challenges one of our genetically engineered champions, we always win at every sport. Nobody can beat our genetically engineered champs. The shows become boring if the outcome is always the same. Also our intellectual shows quickly became boring too since our educational systems are so advanced that most of our dumb kids would be considered genius level 200 or 400 years ago.”
“So you came up with battle of the nerds, to entertain yourselves?” The Doc shook his head in disapproval. “You waste such a wonderful technology as time travel in pursuit of fulfilling humiliating and cruel pranks on historic figures, for silly entertainment’s sake!”
“I guess, in some areas, we haven’t advanced at all.”
“I’d say you’ve gone backwards!” The Doc crossed his hands across his chest. “I refuse to fight!”
“You can’t refuse.” Doc’s Corner Coach whispered. “They’ll threaten your next of kin, throughout the ages! Do you want to be responsible for your future nephew’s, nephew’s, nephew’s, nephew’s, son’s spending half his life in prison cause they traveled in time to his world then planted evidence to make him look guilty of a crime he didn’t commit? Or maybe they’ll travel to your future son’s daughter’s, daughter’s, daughter’s time sphere then bust her kneecap so she can’t grow up to fulfill her destiny of becoming a famous ballet dancer.”
“That’s awful!”
Just then, Albert Einstein bounced over. “Come on Doctor Strass! Let’s rumble!” He bounced up into the air then threw a few mock punches then demonstrated a karate side kick “Heh!” He shouted. Then bounced right in front of Doctor Strass. “What, are ya scared? Cause, ya should be!” He bounced back across the caged ring, laughing all the way.
“You see,” The trainer informed. “That is Sigmund Freud’s influence. Freud really knew what buttons to push, to get his opponent rattled. Freud was a dirty fighter too. Sigmund wouldn’t think twice about biting his opponent or pulling hair.”
“Oh it’s on now!” Doc Strass started jumping, increasing his bounce with each leap. “The Genius doesn’t know, I did a little wrestling back in my grade school years.” The Doc bounced up high then tried a slow tumble sault.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it.” The trainer encouraged. “Stay low Doc and keep a low center of gravity. It will make it easier for you to block and strike. Don’t worry about doing all those fancy flips and stuff. That will come with time and experience.”
As the Doc bounced towards center arena, the crowd started shouting. “Doctor Strass! Doctor Strass! Doctor Strass!...”
Others shouted. “Einstein! Einstein! Einstein!...” The genius, dressed in his spotted leopard skin, caveman outfit bounced towards the center ring sneering at Doc.
Outside the cage, Doc saw the producer holding a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen!” The Producer announced. “Welcome to battle of the geniuses! If you intend on placing bets, consider this your last call to place your wagers. Once the bell rings starting round one, no more bets will be accepted.”
“Gentlemen,” An intercom voice ordered. “Please, go to your respective corners.” Doc bounced back to his trainer. The trainer squirted a sip of water in Doc’s mouth then the trainer stepped behind Doc to take off Doc’s velvet and velour jacket. The audience eww’d and ahh’d at the sight of Doc’s hormone induced mussles put inplace by injections made by Useph and Mariah during Doc’s makeup session.
“You can beat this guy Champ!” The trainer began massaging Doc’s bulging shoulders.
A man wearing a striped shirt, stepped through the fence door then bounced to the center of the arena. “That’s the ref.” Doc’s trainer informed. “It’s almost time.”
Wwwhhh!…The Ref blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention. “At the sound of the bell, both fighters will come out fighting!”
DING!...DING! The trainer slapped Doc hard on his butt for incentive. “Go get him Doc!” The trainer shouted as Doctor Strass bounced off towards center ring.
across the table. “What’s your thought on time travelling? Do you think it’s possible to go back
and forth in time and if so, will man be able to achieve this uncanny ability anytime soon?”
The camera zoomed in on the plump round face covered with an all white beard. With his fingertips, Doctor Strass combed the thin wisps of white hair back on his mostly bald head. “While the idea of jumping back and forth in time is a quite charming perception, the reality of a person waking up in the morning and choosing, willy nilly, what century he or she would like to spend the day visiting, just doesn’t seem feasible on so many levels.”
“Booo!..” The audience voiced their disapproval. “Hiss!...”
“Now, now…” The professor held his hand up waiting for the crowd to quiet. He continued. “I know many of my colleagues disagree but scientifically…”
“Booo!...Hissss!...”
“I personally must admit, I agree with you all. I really love the romanticism of the idea of time travel too but, there’s laws of nature that must be considered.”
“Booo!”
“Even our motion picture industry, in many of its science-fiction movies and shows realized the disasters that could be caused by a time traveler accidentally altering just one tiny little thing in the past. How can the present and future be adjusted to correctly reflect what was changed?”
“Didn’t Einstein believe in time travel?”
“Einstein was a very open minded genius. He seemed to think that just about anything man could conceive of doing could and would eventually be achieved someday.”
“But you seem to be very skeptical Doc?”
“I think nothing would be more fascinating or educational than to be able to go see and experience, first hand, what’s going on fifty years from now and then come back to the present and apply what you’ve learned.”
“But?...”
“But, the actual science involved would be extremely complicated.”
“Complicated but not impossible?”
“Well, if time travel was discovered, anytime in our future, then why haven’t we been visited yet? You would think, advanced humans would be dropping by all the time. I think, going on vacation into the past would be a big industry. Researchers would be popping in to check the details of recorded history against the real live thing. It would be easy to figure out who shot Kennedy, just blink yourself down to the grassy knoll five minutes before the shooting.”
“Good points Professor. And, thank you for joining us today. We only have time for one more question.” The commentator pointed out into the audience. “The gentleman wearing the red shirt on in the far back row has been patient all day.”
“If our future hasn’t already happened in some form, how would you explain all the psychic premonitionists throughout the globe claiming they’ve seen glimpses of what’s coming? Surely there are a lot of hoaxsters out there but still there are tons of reports of legitimate psychics and medians who have helped police find missing bodies, solve crimes and warn of coming disasters that later come true.”
Doctor Norman Strass stared into the camera. “I can’t explain it and would not even attempt to try.” The Doc winked into the camera.
“That’s all the time we have folks.” The commentary stood clapping. The audience immediately joined in the applause. “Doctor Strass, once again thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to indulge us.”
“It was my pleasure Sir.” The Doctor smiled, waving at the camera. “Are we off the air?” The Doc asked whispering through gritted smiling teeth.
“Yes.” The producer stepped out of the shadows then walked over holding his hand out. “You were wonderful Doctor.”
“Thank you.” They shook hands. “Thanks for having me.”
“I’d like to have you back on our show in a few months. We’re going to be discussing the possibility of life existing on one or more of the other planets in our solar system.”
“Ah yes, sure. The search for life somewhere other than on earth is one of my most favorite subjects.” The doctor lifted his briefcase up off the floor then laid it on the table in front of himself. He popped the briefcase open then began gathering up his notes and dropping them inside. “Just give my secretary a buzz so she can pencil it in to my schedule.” He smirked then whispered. “I believe in Martians you know.”
“Really?”
“No, Just kidding you. Ha, ha, ha…” The Doc laughed. “It’s much too cold and then there’s the lack of water thing which all living things seem to need. And, the atmosphere is all wrong. Plus…”
“You had me going.” The producer cut in to laugh with the Doc.
“But I’m not sure life couldn’t find some other way to adapt to adverse conditions on at least one of our other neighboring planets. Of course life might not mean the same thing on Pluto as it does on earth.” He chuckled. “And of course…”
“Hold that thought for our next show Doc.” The producer teased.
“Yes of course. Where are my manners.” The Doc closed his briefcase. “I keep forgetting, everyone doesn’t have the same enthusiasm for the sciences as I do.”
“But that’s why our viewers love you so.” The producer praised. “You can disperse with the boring classroom clichés like text books and replace all the technical jargon with regular words everyone knows and make a tough subject, fun and understandable for the average bloke. That is a real teaching talent my friend.”
“Why thank you.” The Doctor smiled.
“And you are good for our ratings too, Doc.” The Producer slapped the Doc friendly like on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in a few months.” He walked off.
“Doctor Strass?” A man wearing a black tuxedo and dark sunglasses stood by the edge of the stage waving his hand to get the Doc’s attention. The man held up a white sign that read Dr. Norman Strass’s limo to airport. “Whenever you’re ready Doc.” He shouted. “I’m your escort.”
The Doctor stood up then lifted his briefcase off the table. He approached the limo driver. “Take me home Sir.” Doc held out his briefcase for the chauffer to carry. “I’ve had enough of big city life to last a while.”
The chauffer smiled grasping the briefcases handle. “No other baggage Sir?”
“I sent it on ahead of me.”
“Well that makes my job easy.” The driver turned to face a hallway. “Follow me Sir.” The Chauffer led the way through wide open double doors then down a thick carpeted hallway. The hall began to curve. After a while the Doc realized there were no windows or doors just a few pieces of framed art work hanging here and there on the walls.
“Does it seem like we’re walking around and around in a circle to you too?” The Doc asked.
“Yes.” The chauffer kept walking.
“Don’t you think that’s odd?”
The Chauffer just shrugged and continued to walk. “We’re almost there.”
After about fifty more steps the hallway straightened out again and a wide door appeared at the end with two burley men standing on each side.
“Halt!” One of the door guards held his hand up for them to stop. Doc looked over at the chauffer.
The chauffer handed Doc his briefcase. “This is as far as I go Pops.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were driving me to the airport?”
“Someone on the other side of the door will escort you from here.” The chauffer turned. “Enjoy your trip Doc.” He started walking back the way they had come.
One of the burley guards pulled open the large red door. The other stepped forward to grasp the Doctor’s elbow firmly. He tugged the Doc forward so the first guard could grasp his other elbow. Together they pulled the Doctor towards a bright, smoke filled doorway.
“Wait! Whats going on? Help!” The Doc was dragged forward until he was enveloped in smoke. The large hands released their grasp on Doc’s elbows then the guards stepped backwards out of the smoke. Before the Doc had time to react, the door was slammed in his face. VVVVVV!!!... The floor beneath the Doctor’s shoes began to vibrate. The smoke started to swirl all around him. The lighting got brighter then dimmer, brighter then dimmer, brighter then dimmer. “Help!” The Doctor shouted. He held his breath and shut his eyes. VVVVVV!!!...The floor continued vibrating.
Finally the vibrations started to slow then stopped completely. Doctor Strass opened his eyes to see he was still enveloped in the thick, raspberry tasting smoke. Clunk, clank. A door opened in front of him. The Doc instinctively raced through the doorway and into a hall. He fell to his knees chocking and coughing.
“Easy Doc.” Doctor Strass looked up at a well dressed man standing in front of him. “Chug some water?” The man held out a glass of liquid.
The doctor took hold of the glass. He took a sip. “Who are you?”
“I’m a TV Producer.” The man answered. “Feeling any better?”
“No!” The Doctor struggled to his feet. He saw the cameramen standing behind the movie maker filming what was happening. “Turn those cameras off or I’ll have my lawyer sue you! I never consented to being filmed by you jokers!”
“Someone didn’t read the small print on their contract with WBYZ Broadcasting.”
“Sure I did.” The Doc countered.
“It clearly states, we can use you in any of our productions Doc.”
“I never signed anything that said you could humiliate me and use me as the brunt of some low class jokes.”
“Hey, hold on Doctor! I think we’re starting off on the wrong foot.”
“You are wrong. We aren’t starting off on any foot! Now where is your front door? I’m not going back through all that smoke and nonsense!”
“Okay, I admit I I’ve tricked you into coming here. But at least let me tell you about our show before you go off half cocked.”
“I’m going to miss my plane!”
“We’ll get you a ticket for the very next flight plus pay you one thousand dollars to just listen.”
“You have a very peculiar way of doing business Sir. It’s highly irregular.”
“First, let me say we had to trick you. Tricking you is a big part of our show. Our fans have come to expect it from us.”
“I don’t do those kinds of shows. I’m a scientist. I do discussion panel shows.”
“You just finished a show where you said time travel was probably impossible and man would, most likely, never figure out how to travel back and forth in time.”
“Correct.”
“Well then, that’s what makes you the perfect candidate for our show. You see we’re a show that’s airing approximately 200 years in the future from the show you just finished.”
“Ha, ha, ha! I get it. You want me to believe the smoke filled, vibrating room, I just came through was some sort of time portal. How cute, really quite creative. And, I must say you’ve peaked my interest. I’ll play along, for now.”
“Great. How would you like to meet Einstein?”
“Yes certainly but that would be going back in time. You said we went 200 years into the future?”
“Well, we brought Albert here first, before you transported through.”
“Oh, okay.” The Doctor agreed winking into the camera. “Let’s go meet the old man. What is he about ninety years older than me?”
“Officially yes. But, actually we transported you both through at approximately the same physical ages. So you’d be more comfortable relating to one another and conversing than you would if he came to visit us here as a teenager and you came as a man. ”
“Oh sure, that makes sense.”
“So shall we go meet the genius?”
“Lead the way. You’re paying for this party. By the way, what can a fellow buy for $1000 dollars now a days, considering 200 years of depreciation coupled with 200 years of inflation?”
“You are quick Professor.”
“I hope I’ll have at least enough for cab fare to the airport and a sandwich.”
“Ha…ha! And, you’re funny too. I hope you’ll show that side of yourself on our show.”
“Well, I can see producers haven’t changed any in 200 years.” Doc chuckled. “Tell me more about this show of yours.”
“That’s the spirit Doc. I knew you’d come around.” The Producer tapped Doctor Strass on his shoulders. “Follow me down to costume and makeup. And, I’ll fill you in. You know, if you’re not careful, you might even end up having some fun.”
“Oh…do I have to do make up again? I just sat through makeup an hour ago for the last show.”
“Correction, the last time you went through makeup was over 200 years ago. Now don’t you agree, you’re due for a little sprucing up?”
The Doc laughed. “Yeah, now that you put it that way.”
“Besides Doc, your clothes are 200 years out of style.”
“I think they were out of style even 200 years ago.” The Doc joked back.
“Also, as you can imagine, makeup has come a long way in 200 years. We can build you a whole different nose for the show, if you’d like.”
The Doc’s reflex reaction was to touch his nose with his fingertips while muttering. “What’s wrong with my nose?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s a perfect nose. It’s got character.” The Producer assured. “I was just trying to explain that we’ve made significant advances in 200 years in all arenas even makeup.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” The Doc assured.
“Then you’ll let our costume and makeup people doll you up appropriately?”
“In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“Great.” An elevator door opened. The producer stepped inside. The cameraman followed. The Doc stared in but hesitated to enter. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not going to fill up with smoke?” The Doctor asked.
“No Doc. This is just a regular elevator,” The producer assured. “It’s perfectly safe. Climb aboard.” The Doc stepped in. The doors closed. “Now, about the show…”
“Yes, the show.” The elevator began to move.
“When we first developed time travel, naturally everyone wanted to go somewhere, right away. But we couldn’t send everyone, due to the cost involved. The process was very expensive and is still very expensive. Thus the idea for a show came about where we would bring back celebrities from the past, here to our studio. Everyone at home can watch and be involved through our broadcasts or if they get picked by lottery ticket they can participate in the audience. We air live, thus most of us get to experience it second handedly through the guests’ stories.”
“Yes of course, that makes sense.” Doctor Strass agreed. “Time travel, if figured out, like you say it has been, would have to be tightly regulated. You can’t have droves of people just bouncing in then out of different time periods, appearing and disappearing at will. It would cause coax throughout history.” The Doc smiled. “Which is one of the reasons I said time travel would never be figure out.”
“Now, now Doc. I’ve already told you, time travel has been discovered. So play nice. This is not the time for sour grapes.” The elevator doors opened. The producer stepped out into a hall.
“Oh, forgive me. I forgot this is one of those shows.” Doc smirked into the camera then stepped off the elevator to follow the tall producer.
“Ha, ha, ha, Doc.” The cameraman jogged in front of the two men so he could capture their playful banter. “You’d better save your energy for sparing with the ultimate genius. We wouldn’t want Einstein to make a fool out of you.”
“Oh, I can spar.” Doc assured the Producer.
“We’ll see.” The Producer opened a door marked, makeup and costumes.
“Tell them not to make me too pretty.” Doc Strass smirked. “We wouldn’t want Einstein to feel inadequate.”
“You are quite cocky Doctor. That’s probably the first time, Einstein and the word inadequate have been used in the same sentence.” He held the door opened for Doc as he shouted. “Useph, Mariah! You have a customer!”
“Hello.” A slim, tall, stoop shouldered woman with a dark Mid-eastern complexion wearing a beaded, fringed, peasant dress jogged over, followed by a thin, slightly shorter man with a buzz cut and a pencil mustache. “You must be Dr. Strass from the twentieth century?”
“Welcome Doctor.” The thin man piped in. “We’ve been expecting you.”
”Give the good Doctor the full treatment.” The Producer ordered.
“I really don’t think I need the full treatment.” The tall woman moved behind Doc, stood on his tip toes then reached over to massage the Doc’s scalp with her long, boney fingers. “All though, that does feel nice.”
“Have a seat.” The thin man offered. Wheeling over a heavily padded chair with wheels instead of legs. “Then we can roll you from one station to another.”
“You might consider strapping this fella down.” The producer advised jokingly. “He’s a frisky one.”
The woman was now massaging the Doc’s shoulders. “Oh, I don’t think he’s going to be any trouble at all.”
“Mmmm…” The Doc moaned. “Yes, I think the full treatment might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“I’ll be back in about an hour then?” The producer turned then headed towards the door.
“We’ll have him ready Sir.”
An hour and a half later: The Producer arrived to pick up Doctor Strass. “Show time Doc!” He shouted into the empty front room.
The tall Mariah stepped out from behind the curtained off back area. “Sir, I’d like to introduce the new and improved. Doctor Norman Strass. Mariah pulled the curtain aside to expose the Doc.
“Wow! Look at you!” The Producer turned to Useph and Mariah. “Great job as always.”
The Doc stepped into the front room to stare at himself in the full, wall mirror. “They talked me into the Napoleon Bonaparte look.” Doctor Strass ran his hands down the sides of his velvet and velour jacket enjoying the feel of the material.
“Yes, I see,” The Producer nodded. “Kind of sturdy, severe, distinguished. Is he taller?”
“We put lifts in his boots.”Useph explained.
“I think the audience is going to eat you up Doc.” The producer motioned with his hand for Doc Strass to follow him as he headed towards the door. “We don’t have much time. We’re broadcasting live in ten minutes.”
“Good luck Doc.” Mariah encouraged as they left her studio.
“Yeah, Einstein?” Useph joked. “Who’s Einstein?
In the hallway, Doc posed for the cameraman tucking the fingers of his right hand into his jacket between two buttons characteristically the same as the real Napoleon Bonaparte’s habit. “Come on showoff.” The Producer grasped Doc by the elbow. “Let’s get you down to the studio.” He led the new Doc down the hallway.
“Listen, Doc, here’s a few pointers.” The Producer offered. “Don’t mess around with this guy, come out swinging. Don’t let him sucker you into any of his games. And, if you see an opening, pounce! Remember Albert is a genius. You don’t want to spar toe to toe with a genius.”
The Producer stopped then pointed. “You’re on your own from here Doc. Just keep going straight. The arena’s right through those double doors.” The Doc walked on a little nervously. “Chin up!” The Producer ordered. “You’re going to do just fine!”
As the double doors opened, the bright lights from inside the arena, shown into Doc’s eyes. The crowd roared. “Dr. Strass! Dr Strass! Dr.Strass!...” Hearing his name being chanted, The Doctor held his head up higher then continued down the isle towards the elevated stage.
The stage looked like it was covered by a giant half bubble made out of chain link fencing. Curiously, the Doc climbed the stairs leading to an open fence like door. At the door way, the Doc was met by a stocky older man who held out his calloused hand. “Greetings Doc Strass. I’m your studio appointed Corner Coach.” He ignored Doc’s confused look, grasped Doc’s hand then shook it smiling. “Just remember if things get too intense for you in there, just tap the mat two times and I’ll throw in the towel then the referee will stop the match. Naturally the crowd might booo a little. They hate to see a quitter. But, our number one concern is keeping you safe, so you can come back to compete a few more times at least.”
“Is that?...” Doc glanced across the caged in stage to see an average sized man, dressed in leopard skin, like a caveman, jumping up and down in the far corner. The whole floor of the caged in stage was made of some type of trampoline material, the Doc guessed, because the caveman was bouncing then doing tumble saults and flips like a circus trapeze artist.”
“Don’t pay attention to Einstein. He’s trying to psych you out. Ever since his match against Sigmund Freud, he’s been acting that way.”
“Who won?”
“It was a draw. Albert’s still mad about it. He says the judges were paid off. To tell you the truth Doc, most of us around the studio are sick and tired of his, I’m better than everybody, superiority attitude. We’re all secretly hoping you knock him off his pedestal.”
“But, I’m no fighter! I was supposed to take Albert on intellectually; a scientific debate or astrology questions or mathematical equations…”
“Those kinds of time travel shows went out of style over half a century ago Doc.”
“Oh come on. You’re pulling my leg! Why would anyone want to watch two out of shape snobs fight each other when you could watch the greatest Spartan Olympians square off against a 20th century martial artist champion?”
“Those shows have all been done Doc.”
“Who won?”
“It varies. Sometimes the Spartan, sometimes the more modern athlete. But, when the winner challenges one of our genetically engineered champions, we always win at every sport. Nobody can beat our genetically engineered champs. The shows become boring if the outcome is always the same. Also our intellectual shows quickly became boring too since our educational systems are so advanced that most of our dumb kids would be considered genius level 200 or 400 years ago.”
“So you came up with battle of the nerds, to entertain yourselves?” The Doc shook his head in disapproval. “You waste such a wonderful technology as time travel in pursuit of fulfilling humiliating and cruel pranks on historic figures, for silly entertainment’s sake!”
“I guess, in some areas, we haven’t advanced at all.”
“I’d say you’ve gone backwards!” The Doc crossed his hands across his chest. “I refuse to fight!”
“You can’t refuse.” Doc’s Corner Coach whispered. “They’ll threaten your next of kin, throughout the ages! Do you want to be responsible for your future nephew’s, nephew’s, nephew’s, nephew’s, son’s spending half his life in prison cause they traveled in time to his world then planted evidence to make him look guilty of a crime he didn’t commit? Or maybe they’ll travel to your future son’s daughter’s, daughter’s, daughter’s time sphere then bust her kneecap so she can’t grow up to fulfill her destiny of becoming a famous ballet dancer.”
“That’s awful!”
Just then, Albert Einstein bounced over. “Come on Doctor Strass! Let’s rumble!” He bounced up into the air then threw a few mock punches then demonstrated a karate side kick “Heh!” He shouted. Then bounced right in front of Doctor Strass. “What, are ya scared? Cause, ya should be!” He bounced back across the caged ring, laughing all the way.
“You see,” The trainer informed. “That is Sigmund Freud’s influence. Freud really knew what buttons to push, to get his opponent rattled. Freud was a dirty fighter too. Sigmund wouldn’t think twice about biting his opponent or pulling hair.”
“Oh it’s on now!” Doc Strass started jumping, increasing his bounce with each leap. “The Genius doesn’t know, I did a little wrestling back in my grade school years.” The Doc bounced up high then tried a slow tumble sault.
“Now you’re getting the hang of it.” The trainer encouraged. “Stay low Doc and keep a low center of gravity. It will make it easier for you to block and strike. Don’t worry about doing all those fancy flips and stuff. That will come with time and experience.”
As the Doc bounced towards center arena, the crowd started shouting. “Doctor Strass! Doctor Strass! Doctor Strass!...”
Others shouted. “Einstein! Einstein! Einstein!...” The genius, dressed in his spotted leopard skin, caveman outfit bounced towards the center ring sneering at Doc.
Outside the cage, Doc saw the producer holding a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen!” The Producer announced. “Welcome to battle of the geniuses! If you intend on placing bets, consider this your last call to place your wagers. Once the bell rings starting round one, no more bets will be accepted.”
“Gentlemen,” An intercom voice ordered. “Please, go to your respective corners.” Doc bounced back to his trainer. The trainer squirted a sip of water in Doc’s mouth then the trainer stepped behind Doc to take off Doc’s velvet and velour jacket. The audience eww’d and ahh’d at the sight of Doc’s hormone induced mussles put inplace by injections made by Useph and Mariah during Doc’s makeup session.
“You can beat this guy Champ!” The trainer began massaging Doc’s bulging shoulders.
A man wearing a striped shirt, stepped through the fence door then bounced to the center of the arena. “That’s the ref.” Doc’s trainer informed. “It’s almost time.”
Wwwhhh!…The Ref blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention. “At the sound of the bell, both fighters will come out fighting!”
DING!...DING! The trainer slapped Doc hard on his butt for incentive. “Go get him Doc!” The trainer shouted as Doctor Strass bounced off towards center ring.