SHORT STORY: BEYOND THE SELF

Here's all the pieces of the story.                                                                                     BEYOND THE FREEZER  -  BEYOND THE SELF  -  BEYOND THE HERD BEYOND THE FEW  -  BEYOND THE EDGE  -  BEYOND THE STARS

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“A little bit farther, Patty,” he said, using the name he'd heard others calling him by. “Just a bit farther.”

Something was calling to him, drawing him onward and he had to know what it was. The great light had come and gone more times than he could count. His grease trail had long since diminished and movement was getting difficult. Birds flew overhead, seemingly uncertain what to make of the strange entity he had become. Every once in a while, once of the birds would swoop down at him and he would have to leap out of the way. Each time he barely made it, and each time became a little more difficult.

The birds left him alone in the dark times, and that was a relief. But there were other things to worry about in the dark. He never slept, he didn't need to, but he couldn't stop to take a rest either and that was beginning to wear on him. Shifting forms in the black haunted his nights, threatening to overtake him and devour him should he ever cease his vigilance.

A bird swooped and, this time, Patty wasn't fast enough. Beak pierced flesh and the bird gulped down a chunk of meat. Patty reeled from the blow and dodged out of the way as the bird came in for another bite.

Oddly, Patty was still aware of the piece of himself inside the bird. He took a hold of it with his mind and bird flopped to the ground, ridged. Patty found himself in two places at once: on the ground, where he was following his dodge, and on the ground where he'd landed after falling out of the air. It didn't make sense. The bird was the one who'd fallen, but there, in his mind, he saw out of the birds eyes, knew the birds thought, he even felt the dull pain on the birds side where it had landed wrong. He knew everything the bird knew and had all of its memories, though most were of little interest to Patty.

Another bird took advantage of the apparent delay and swooped in. Patty swooped up and pecked at the other bird, knocking it away. The other birds scattered at this sudden change in their companions behavior and Patty was left alone with himself, both of him. The bit of Patty inside the bird shifted within the gullet and Patty's hold over the bird wavered. The closer to complete digestion that Patty's segment got, the weaker his hold over the bird. Not wanting to lose this opportunity, Patty gingerly picked himself up in his beak and flew off toward the horizon, toward the call driving him on.

It was nearing the end of the light when at last Patty knew he'd arrived. Spread out before him were more of his kind, or at least what he had been before he'd been taken, tortured, and changed. It was just in time too since the bird was beginning to come back to itself and Patty was eager to get out of it's beak. The moment Patty was back on the ground, he flew the bird as far away as he could. By the end of it's flight it felt less like a part of him and more just a being that Patty was giving strong suggestions to.

Calm lowing reached Patty as the light faded and with it went his hope of reaching his kind that day. Here, at least, there were no dark forms moving about like specters, and at last he could rest. As soon as the light returned he would finish his search. And now he had a new idea, a new goal. It was a remote hope, but perhaps revenge upon those who so tortured him was not so far outside of his reach.

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 Sequel to BEYOND THE FREEZER. I'm laying around a bit more with the beef patty, we'll see how far it goes.

POEM: FRUSTRATION

Christmas season's here

Bank error in bank's favor

Less presents this year.

*     *     *

Just a bit of frustration on some happenings this month.

DECEMBER, DECEMBER, DECEMBER...

   For those of you that don't know, today is/was my anniversary (4 years!). Had a wonderful day with my wife, got absolutely no writing done, and hardly any blogging. Sorry to those of you who showed up looking for a Short Story today and didn't find one, and sorry for last Friday not having a Poem.

   Tell you what, I'll make it up to you. On Friday I'll post a Poem, then a Short Story, then another Poem, all in one day. Just because you are all so awesome for reading my blog.

   I've had this one short story in the works for quite some time and I believe it's ready to see the light. Some of you may wish to read (or re-read) BEYOND THE FREEZER if you haven't already... because things in the universe are about to, shall we say, evolve.

IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 45

Matt shuffled the note in his hands, reviewing briefly what he planned to say should things go badly. Even the slightest of sounds echoed in the hallway with its marble floor and hardwood paneling. Matt was beginning to see why Joan hated coming to the courthouse so much. He flipped through his notes again, the sounds of the rifling paper reverberated down the corridor.

“You'll crease them,” Dr. Muto said, laying a hand on the papers to prevent Matt from fussing with them further.

Silence filled the hallway. Matt followed Dr. Muto's example and sat still on the bench, waiting for them to be called into the courtroom on the other side of the heavy double doors that stood, imposing, to their side. A guard stood before the doors, staring straight ahead as though Matt and Dr. Muto weren't there. Of course, this wasn't the same courtroom used for Joan and for that he was thankful. Matt didn't know what they used that courtroom for now, seeing as how Joan didn't have to heck in regularly anymore. Not here at least. Perhaps they'd turn it back into a standard courtroom again.

Poor Joan, Matt thought to himself. It was months since they'd last spoken to one another. He thought he was being all sorts of clever when he gave Joan his other cell phone. Matt believed he'd be able to talk to her, help her, until the Heat Machine was ready. Then he'd have a real excuse to be allowed to visit her on a regular basis. In actual practice, the phone lasted less than a week before the battery died. Even if Matt had thought to give Joan the charger, where would she have plugged it in? No, it was a nice idea, if only a bit flawed.

“Please,” Dr. Muto stated more firmly, “you need to relax.”

Matt hadn't realized that he'd begun shuffling his papers again until Dr. Muto spoke.

“Sorry,” Matt said, and he placed his notes inside the folder they belonged in.

“There's nothing left for us to do but wait,” Dr. Muto assured Matt. “We've made our case, presented our evidence, and it's now up to the Judge to decide on the matter.”

Dr. Muto spoke with a steady, confident cadence and Matt wanted to believe him. He knew this wait would pass by so much quicker, so much more pleasantly, if only he could relax. But try as he might, he couldn't. How Dr. Muto managed to behave so calmly was beyond Matt's understanding. True, they'd spent the greater part of the past few months preparing their case. Matt even felt that they'd done a pretty good job of arguing their side of things. They had solid answers to all of the questions put to them, rehearsed for hours and hours in the days leading up to today.

“What if the Judge doesn't rule in our favor?” Matt asked, finally voicing the fear that was gnawing away at him.

Dr. Muto turned his flat, steady gaze onto Matt. He felt as though Dr. Muto were sizing him up like an adult does to a child who's just asked a serious question and the adult is deciding how much of the answer the child can understand. It took a painfully long time for Dr. Muto to decide, or at least, that's how Matt felt once Dr. Muto began to speak.

“If things go badly for us today,” he said evenly, “Then we are finished.”

Matt waited for Dr. Muto to go on, to expound upon his statement. He couldn't believe that Dr. Muto would be so pessimistic about the situation. Certainly there had to be another course.

“What about an appeal?” Matt asked. “We could—

“We could waste time with more court hearings,” Dr. Muto said in a terse voice, cutting Matt off mid-sentence. “Even if we filed for an appeal it's unlikely that it would be granted. Even if we were successful and presented our case again to a different Judge who decided to overturn today's decisions, it would most be too late.”

“But,” began Matt and he was again cut off by Dr. Muto.

“The world is killing itself,” Dr. Muto stated. “It does not have enough time remaining for us to hope for another chance.”

Matt stared at the wall in front of him, not really seeing it. The finality of Dr. Muto's words sank deep into him and it seemed as though his entire being could cease to exist.

“They're ready for you,” the guard said and he moved to pull the heavy doors open.

They stood and followed the guard into the courtroom. Matt's heart threatened to burst up through his throat, it was pounding so hard. His stomach clenched as the Judge entered the room and they all took their seats. It would all be over in a few moments time. The Judge would pass down his judgment and they'd be finished. The world would die and they would be powerless to stop it.

Dr. Muto placed a hand on Matt's leg and gave him a firm but subtle shake. “You look like you're going to be sick,” Dr. Muto said under his breath. “Now would not be a good time for such things.”

Matt took in several deep breaths and steadied his nerves as best he could. His hands were still shaking when the Judge withdrew the folder containing their files but his stomach at least had stopped flopping around.

The Judge went through the usual opening statements and at one point Matt had to state his name, followed by Dr. Muto. Events moved in a blur as though he were stuck on a sped up merry-go-round and his nausea returned in force.

“...and so it is the decision of this court,” the Judge was saying and the world slowed back down to the painfully slow pace it had been at before when they were still waiting outside.

Dr. Muto's eyes were shut, his face calm. Only the muscles around his temples were tight and Matt suspected that that was his way of showing fear. The court recorder sat off in the corner, stacks of papers and forms surrounding her desk, her hands busily organizing and filing the documents nearest her.

His stomach heaved and Matt tasted bile in his mouth. There was movement around him but his ears didn't appear to be working properly and all he could hear was a piercing ringing in his head. He heaved again and only just kept from throwing up. More movement. Matt's vision swam, the edges of the room turned dark, and everything took on an unnatural green tint. He was aware of there being sounds around him, but he couldn't hear them; a strange paradox.

“Matt,” Dr. Muto's voice was hushed but urgent, his hands firmly shaking Matt out of his stupor.

Everything returned to normal and Matt was shocked to see that the Judge was standing.

“What's happened?” Matt asked.

“Stand up!” Dr. Muto growled, nodding his head toward the Judge.

Matt stood, his knees threatening to give way, and the Judge walked out of the courtroom. As soon as the door was shut behind the Judge, Dr. Muto took Matt by the arm and lead him away. They left the courtroom, turned down a few halls and eventually Dr. Muto stopped them, pulled open a door and pushed Matt through.

They were in a bathroom.

Instinct claimed him and Matt stumbled into the first stall he came to. His knees gave out and he knelt, purging for some time before rising back up, lips shaking. Dr. Muto had the water running for him and Matt rinsed out his mouth.

“Wash your face,” Dr. Muto instructed. “The cold water will feel good.”

Matt splashed his face a couple of times and it did indeed make him feel substantially better. At last, Matt was himself again and he and Dr. Muto sat down on a bench just outside the courthouse. It was cold and snow was just beginning to fall but their bench was sheltered beneath the overhanging eaves of the courthouse.

“What happened?” Matt asked.

“You had a panic attack,” Dr. Muto stated as though this should have been obvious.

“No,” Matt allowed himself a chuckle, “what did the Judge say?”

“Mmm, that,” Dr. Muto said but did not continue.

In the few moments that they'd been outside, the snowflakes had increased in size and they were falling more quickly now as well. The few pedestrians lingering about the courthouse dispersed and Matt and Dr. Muto were suddenly alone outside.

“We were granted our petition,” Dr. Muto said at last. “Though, we must build the Heat Machine within Miss Darcy's enclosure,” he added. “It seems as though her fire has become even more uncontrollable.”

Matt breathed a sigh of relief. Joan would be sad that he hadn't been able to get her out, but at least he'd be able to see her again, and now the courts couldn't keep him from visiting her.

*     *     *     

What was your first impression on Matt and Dr. Muto's situation? Did you know what they were there for? Did it make sense?

SOMETHING A BIT DIFFERENT

Sorry to those of you looking for a poem today. I've been working on a documentary these past few months and I would like to update you all on that. The film's about a group here in Seattle (NuSol) that went down to a VERY remote village in Peru and installed solar power for the people. While there, the river that borders the village eroded so much of the river bank away that parts of the village fell into the river. So, go here and see what I have to say about the project, and then go here to watch the trailer.

SHORT STORY: 13

Some time ago I wrote some Short Shorts. This is an extension on that theme. I didn't originally intend for these stories to all be 13 words long, it just turned out that way.

 

13

The ball bounced, the child chased, the sedan swerved, and the mother mourned.

*

Everyone thought the old man was sleeping, until they tried to rouse him.

*

Within moments, it was over. The plane's emergency doors opened. She was safe.

IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 44

Who would have thought being numb would hurt so much? It wasn't the sharp pain it had once been, and at times Judge Dervin thought it was all in his head. That throbbing, burning ache in his arms, legs, and spine from sitting, bound, for so long. At least they fed him. Once a day, some unrecognizable substance trickled through the long tube his captors had run through the ceiling and hung just within reach of his lips. An identical setup beside him fed the other man. The food, if it could really be called that, never satisfied and more often than not it made them sick.

“...another collapse this week...” the news reporter was saying over images of a collapsed coal mine with emergency crews scattered about.

“That's new,” the other man said.

“Is it?” Judge Dervin asked with mild interest. His eyes threatening to close as he slipped briefly unconscious.

“It was suppose to be just nuclear and oil,” the other man shook his head thoughtfully. “But I suppose Feather Weight was more successful in his part of all this than we originally thought possible.”

“Talks among the United Nations have dissolved,” the news reporter continued, “as the warring between the Middle East and Asia has finally spilled over into Europe in response to the loss of these coal mines.”

“You're destroying the world,” Judge Dervin said as his head bobbed back up, awake.

“Yes,” the other man agreed sadly. “Don't know how we couldn't see it at the time that that was what would happen. We thought we were saving the world. Still,” he said, brightening up, “wars come and go, eh?”

Judge Dervin wanted to spit in the mans face but his mouth was too dry to manage it.

“Don't worry,” the other man said, reading the hate in Judge Dervin's face. “I'm not likely to ever see the outside of this room again.”

“I hope you're wrong,” Judge Dervin said.

“Oh, they'll let you go eventually, I'm sure,” the man said. “It's not in their nature to kill.”

Judge Dervin snorted his disbelief.

“Well,” the man corrected himself, “not up close and personal.”

“No,” Judge Dervin had to agree given the lengths to which their captors had gone to keep them alive, feeding them, cleaning them off once a week. It wasn't the sort of thing people did when all they intended to do was kill you. “That's what they had you for.”

The other man was silent. It took no great effort on Judge Dervin's part to piece together the truth. In their first few moments together, the other man had admitted to being a killer, and that Samantha had once been a captive here, in his house. Judge Dervin tried multiple times to get the man to admit to killing Samantha, but each time he'd failed and the other man had taken to falling silent now whenever the subject was brought up.

“One of these days you'll tell me,” Judge Dervin said.

“And I've told you before that I'd be a fool not to assume they're listening in on us,” the other man replied. “Now can't we put all of that aside, given our current situation, and at least have some pleasant conversation?”

Judge Dervin felt his head begin to droop once more and his vision flickered with his blinking eyelids.

“Don't fall asleep now,” the other man said, his so voice strong and forceful that Judge Dervin could help but obey, “They're bound to be feeding us soon and you've missed the last two days.”

Judge Dervin filled with regret at being denied the peace of sleep in exchange for the retching the food would certainly induce. However, he couldn't deny that if he continued refusing to eat he would die. He couldn't give up, not now, not with his daughter's murderer a mere arms length away. No, he'd eat, force down the terrible food if only to build up sufficient strength to escape his bonds and then...he wasn't sure. In his current state all he wanted to do was kill the man beside him, but that wasn't justice. Samantha deserved justice.

Footsteps overhead heralded their daily meal and both men quickly moved into position to catch as much as they could in their mouths. Within moments, the thick, sour substance began to make its way down to them. Judge Dervin forced himself to keep eating even though his body kept trying to vomit. The sludge was like oatmeal that had gone bad days ago and the overwhelming smell suggested that such a guess couldn't be too far from the truth. Thick rubbery clumps, remnants from previous days feedings, were forced down the tube and threatened to lodge in his throat but there wasn't enough time to chew.

At last the flow ended and both man sat, panting from the exertion of gulping down their days worth of food in only a matter of moments. For a while, neither spoke and they occasionally convulsed as their bodies continued to try and purge. Bits of the gruel slid down Judge Dervin's cheeks and onto his shoulders and chest, soaking through his clothes and chilling his skin wherever it touched.

“So what happens now?” Judge Dervin asked when several minutes had passed without further complaint from his stomach.

“What do you mean?” the other man asked, still with a pained look on his face.

“Your group,” Judge Dervin said, “what's next on the agenda?”

The other man just shook his head. “The world was suppose to figure that part out,” he said. “But it looks like we overestimated them. We hoped that our actions would force the worlds leaders into working together to find clean alternative energy sources. We thought we were going to save the world.”

“How long before this escalates into another world war, do you think?” Judge Dervin asked with malice in his voice.

“Oh I think we're already there,” the man said flatly. “Not everyone's shooting yet, but that's just a technicality nowadays.”

Judge Dervin spat a particularly large mass of gruel at the man which struck him square on the side of his face. “You disgust me,” he said.

The man flinched from the splatter of putridity and shook his head violently to remove the clinging globules.

“I have never pretended to be anything other than what I am with you,” the man said, “and so why you must repeatedly sink down to such base levels of behavior?”

“Were you honest with her?” Judge Dervin asked. “Did she know who you are? Did she?”

The man hung his head. “No,” he said, “she thought I was bio-engineer, which I am, but that's not really the point of your question.”

The man shut his eyes and Judge Dervin thought he could make out a few tears among the filth running down the man's face.

“You're a fine actor,” Judge Dervin growled.

“I am not pretending!” The man nearly shouted at judge Dervin, his face suddenly red and angry.

“Well you must have done to get my daughter to trust you!” Judge Dervin shouted back.

The man was about to respond when his body gave a sudden jerk and he vomited all over himself. Once it began there was no stopping it and the awful smell of sick filled the room. Judge Dervin looked away, wishing he could plug his ears to the wet splashing and plopping that was happening right beside him. His own stomach trembled as guttural utterances were cut short with each eruption. Some of it splashed onto his arms and lap but there was little he could do about that.

At last, it stopped.

“If you thought that stuff was foul going down,” the man began.

“Oh shut up!”

“Sorry,” the man said, “bad taste.”

“You'll get no sympathy from me,” Judge Dervin stated, still not looking over at the man.

“And I neither expect nor deserve you to,” the man replied, smacking his lips and spitting a few times. “That's better.”

“How did you do it?” Judge Dervin found himself asking.

“That is a topic I believe you would find even more distasteful than my recent gastric expulsions,” the man said with obvious disgust.

“I want to know,” Judge Dervin pressed, turning back to look him.

The man shifted as best he could in his chair and didn't meet Judge Dervin's eyes.

“Bought her a drink,” he said at last with forced levity. “She didn't even realize she was drugged until we were in my car and halfway out of town.”

Judge Dervin swore under his breath. He'd taught her better than that. No matter who the person was, no matter how well trusted...but it had been years since they'd last spoken. Who knew how many of his lessons she'd retained. Obviously not that one.

“By that time,” the man went on, “she was too out of it to really fight back and, well,” his voice tapered off.

“Did she die quickly?” Judge Dervin asked.

The man didn't answer.

“You told me when I first arrived here that she use to sit in this chair,” Judge Dervin said, his throat constricted. “Did you do to her what they're doing to us?”

Still, he did not answer.

“Did you make her live like this?” Judge Dervin shouted louder than before.

The man cringed back from the volume of Judge Dervin's voice.

“Please,” he said, “they'll hear you.”

Judge Dervin hesitated. What would it matter if anyone heard them? 

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Thoughts on Judge Dervin and Tea Leave's 'relatinship'?