Flash Fiction Friday #30 - The Girl

The Girl

Doctor Ephod pointed to the young girl behind the viewing glass. She was asleep in the small room, with only four walls and a floor covered in potting soil to keep her company.

"She has the power to create life," Ephod said.

Doctor Curt huffed. "We know that, E. We've been observing her for three months now. She's only done so on two occasions, and both were in rooms full of water. She has yet to do it in this room. What I want to know - what the panel wants to know - is who she is. Where did she come from? What are her origins?"

Ephod watched the young girl intently. Her bare feet and fingernails were caked in soil. Her face hid behind a curtain of long blue hair that acted as a shroud for her countenance. She wore nothing more than a simple purple dress that went to her knees. It was the only thing she had been wearing when they found her in the middle of the crater in the Wastelands.

"You've grown attached to her, haven't you?" Curt asked.

Ephod shook his head adamantly. "No."

"You lie," Curt snapped. The man's thick black eyebrows raised in accusation, like sabers readying to come down to decapitate Ephod. "While you've been watching her, we've been watching you."

Ephod tried not to act surprised at the admission. He had his suspicions that the panel's eyes were all over the research facility, but he didn't know how extensively they had been scrutinizing him. He shrugged, sighed, and pointed to the girl again. "What do you want me to say? She's a beautiful specimen."

"That's all she is, Ephod. A specimen. An alien."

"I know that. I was there when she was discovered."

Curt grumbled something under his breath, but Ephod couldn't make out what.

The girl suddenly shifted, and Ephod felt his heart skip a beat. Curt moved in close to the glass, and they both watched as the girl sat up and moved the hair out from in front of her face. Her eyes glowed a ghastly blue, and her lips were covered in small pieces of dark soil which she brushed away with her thin arm.

She stood to her feet, watching the two doctors as she did. Ephod knew the girl didn't trust them - and she was right not to. She stretched her arms out to her sides and wiggled her fingers and toes.

"What is she doing?" Curt asked.

Ephod shrugged. "I don't know. She doesn't usually do anything other than claw at the soil."

"Yes, I know. But you refused to put into your reports why you think she claws at the soil."

"I never included my thoughts on the subject because I don't know why she claws at the soil. I have an assumption - she's trying to find something to create life from - but since it's just an assumption, I figured the panel didn't want it included in my report."

Curt moved his lips close to Ephod's right ear. "The panel wants to know every damn thought that runs through that tiny head of yours. You're on our dime. We own your thoughts when you're within these walls."

Ephod ignored Curt's intrusive proximity and continued to watch the girl. She simply wiggled her fingers and toes. Nothing more.

Curt moved his face away from Ephod's and grunted. "I have serious doubts about you, Doctor Ephod. Doubts that I find myself having to continually remind the panel of. I think you've been compromised by this subject."

"Why do you say that? I've done exactly what you - and the panel - have asked me to do. I put her in different environments, I observe her day and night, and I turn in reports on my findings. I haven't helped her to escape, I haven't done anything to interfere with the tests. I don't know why you're so suspicious of me."

Curt huffed. "I don't trust you, E, because my gut tells me you're up to no good."

Ephod shrugged and half-smiled at his colleague. "Your gut is wrong. I'm one of the good guys, Doctor Curt."

"That has yet to be seen."

Ephod watched as the girl closed her eyes and lifted her hands above her head. The ground suddenly shook slightly, and the soil near her feet began to shift and crack. A bright green stalk broke through the soil and rose high enough to clear the girl's head to reach the ceiling.

"No!" Curt shouted.

The stalk burst through the stone ceiling allowing for a burst of sunlight to enter the girl's room, bathing her in a warm glow.

Curt ran off down the hallway, no doubt to get security.

The girl opened her eyes and looked directly at Ephod. She lifted her right foot off the soil and stood like a flamingo for a few seconds before she lifted her left foot and floated in the air. She smiled warmly at Ephod, and then she rose out of the opening and into the midday sky.

Doctor Ephod fled down the hallway in the direction opposite Doctor Curt, glad he had been given the chance to smuggle a mound of vine seeds inside the room's soil the night before.

Flash Fiction Friday #29 - Jeran and Emily

This week's piece is actually a rough part of a prequel to one of the stories you'll find in the upcoming anthology I am a part of. The story this is a prequel of is called Doors of Babel, and the anthology - The Crossover Alliance - Anthology Volume 1 - will be due out September 26. If Jeran and Emily's last name - Huxley - sounds familiar, it's because this story and the one in the anthology are actually prequels to my novella, Drather's Story. Enjoy!

Jeran and Emily

The sirens wailed in the distance. In another reality, at another time, those same sirens would have been used to signal some kind of natural disaster – such as a tornado or a hurricane. But not in this dark age. The sirens were indicating the approaching raiding party.

Jeran Huxley tied the front of her long sweater and rushed into the small bedroom where Emily slept. The six-year-old girl was fast asleep, dreaming – one would presume – of ponies and dollhouses. Jeran hated having to jolt the girl awake, but if they didn’t escape before the raiding party arrived, they would be killed, raped, or something worse.

“What is it, Mommy?” Emily groaned as Jeran shook the girl somewhat violently. “I was dreaming.”

“I know, Honey, but we have to go. Remember what I taught you? Remember the drills?”

Emily rubbed her eyes and sat up in her bed. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Get out of bed, get dressed, get your bag, and meet me in the living room.”

“What are those sirens, Mommy? They’re loud.”

Jeran brushed her hand through the girl’s tangled hair and grinned. “I know. They won’t be on forever. Get dressed. I’m going to grab our other things.”

Jeran left Emily to follow through with the actions she had taught her. Jeran rushed down the dark hallway and entered their lit kitchen where a duffle bag half full of canned food sat on the counter. Jeran continued filling it from the open cupboard above the refrigerator, her mind racing to remember the drills she had run her and her daughter through every other day.

She finished packing the duffle bag, zipped it closed, and set it on the floor before rushing into the living room for another bag she had on the couch, half full of weapons and ammunition. She double checked the three pistols within, making sure they were loaded and ready to fire, and then zipped up the bag, satisfied she could aptly defend her daughter if need be.

As was her habit the last few days, Jeran glanced at a photograph on the bookshelf. In it, she, Emily, and Jeran’s husband, Jed, stood in a field of green grass against an Arizona sunset backdrop.

“You wanted to walk out on us, bastard? Fine.” She slammed the picture frame on its face, shattering the glass.

The sirens stopped. Jeran went to the large window and peered through the blinds on the street outside. Orange lamps filled the road with an ugly glow. She saw neighbors from the house next door packing up their vehicle. They were frantic, without a plan, and probably headed to their deaths. Jeran had tried to talk sense into them weeks earlier, tried to warn them about the impending raid, but they wouldn’t listen to her.

Most didn’t listen to her.

Most in their town believed Legion and the falling stars to be a fairytale. The stars hadn’t fallen over Jennastad, so why would anyone believe the news reports that they had fallen elsewhere?

Most believed the stories about Nathan Pierce, his sister Daisy, and the President of the United States to be a fabrication. A ruse. A conspiracy.

Not Jeran. She believed everything. And when she heard that a nearby prison had failed to keep its inmates within its fortified walls after a freak supernatural incident occurred to kill the guards instantly, she knew it would only be a matter of time before those prisoners decided to pour out into the nearest town – their town. The crier – a man by the name of Joseph – believed her, and did his best to hold town meetings to warn of the impending raid. Few listened. But because of Joseph, the siren had been activated tonight. Lives had been saved.

Did you get to safety, Joseph, or is your body hanging from an upside-down cross somewhere in town?

“I’m ready, Mommy!”

Startled, Jeran swung around and caught her breath when she found her daughter standing in the middle of the living room with her pink backpack strung across her back.

“Good, Honey. Now, go grab the bag of food from the kitchen, and let’s get going.”

Her daughter rushed off to the other room while Jeran peered through her blinds once again. Her neighbors were pulling out of the driveway in their beat up station wagon.

Gunfire suddenly filled the street. The windows of the vehicle shattered and the car rolled backwards into the wall across the street. Jeran noticed a group of men entering the street from the right of her house. Each was armed with a rifle, and each was clothed in a blue jumpsuit – prison garb.

Jeran rushed from the window and went straight to the kitchen where Emily was told to go. But the girl was nowhere in sight.

“Emily?” Jeran whispered. She quickly flipped the light switch off and made her way down the dark hallway, peering in Emily’s room, the master bedroom, and even the bathroom only to find no sign of her daughter. “Emily?”

She opened the door to the garage and gasped when she saw a woman in a black skirt and black blazer standing next to their SUV, Emily’s hand in hers.

“Let go of my daughter,” Jeran growled. “Now.”

The woman nodded and let go of Emily’s hand. Emily slowly drew to Jeran’s side. “She said her name is Sarah,” Emily said.

“What are you doing in my home?”

“I’m here to help,” the woman answered.

More gunfire rang out beyond the walls of the garage. Jeran heard screaming in the distance.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Sarah. Jed sent me to retrieve you two and bring you somewhere safe.”

“My husband never mentioned your name. Get the hell out of my garage.”

“Your husband hasn’t been here for the last week, has he? You thought he ran out on you, didn’t you?”

Jeran put her palms over Emily’s ears. “He’s a bastard. He left us in the middle of the night. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“He’s been working with me to find a place of safety for you and your family. He knew if he told you about it, you would want to follow him. He didn’t want you to get hurt.” Sarah put her hands in the air. “I’m not here to hurt you. I have no weapon. I just want to take you to a place of safety. A place far from here.”

Jeran heard more gunfire, only this time it sounded like it was just outside the garage door. “Let me grab a few things, and we’ll go with you.”

“Excellent,” Sarah said, lowering her arms to her sides. “Jed will be very happy to see you.”

Flash Fiction Friday #27 - The War

The War

“What story do you want to hear before dinner, Jimmy?” Grandpa Jim asked.

Jimmy settled on the couch near his grandfather. “Tell me about the War that you and your friends were in. I haven’t heard that one yet!”

Grandpa Jim nodded. “Yes, yes. Those were dark days indeed. The War itself lasted only hours, but it felt like weeks before we came to the end of it.  By that time, I had lost all of my companions, and I found myself alone to fight the horrible artificial intelligence known as The Core by myself.”

“How did you do it, Grandpa?” Jimmy asked.

Grandpa Jim let a smile bleed across his face. He up held the pointer finger of his right hand. “Luck and strategy, my dear boy.

“See, it all began for the four in the foyer of the Tower of Roses. We had to fight our way through that place first before we could even get close to the Core. Things got a little dicey, but we managed to make it out of there alive. Once we found the blue key – which we needed in order to get through the exit – the place went nuts with enemies. Ronald, my best friend, took it upon himself to cover our backs as we battled our way out.

“Did you and your friends escape?” Jimmy asked as he scooted across the couch, closer to his grandfather.

Grandpa Jim frowned. “We did, but not before we had to fight a beast the likes of which you may indeed see in your lifetime. An experiment gone awry. The four of us were weak when we first met up with the beast, but by the end, it was just me and Ronald left. Craig and Tootsie died in the battle.” He turned and stared out the living room window, his eyes catching sight of the drifting clouds outside. “They were good companions to have on an adventure like that. But they were still new to the game, still green to the strategy it took to fell that beast. They didn’t know what Ronald and I figured out too late into the battle: The beast had a weak spot, a glowing disc on its forehead. Once we realized that, Ronald and I shot up that thing until it finally exploded all over the place, leaving a mess of coins behind.”

Jimmy scratched his head. “Coins? Why would it leave coins behind?”

Grandpa Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. It just did.”

Becky peered into the room, her sparkling blue eyes catching Grandpa Jim’s attention. “Are you filling my son’s head with nonsense again, dad?”

Grandpa Jim laughed. “Of course not.”

Jimmy waved his mother away. “Not now, Mom! He’s telling me about the war.”

Becky rolled her eyes and huffed. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can you two wrap this up, please?” With that, she vanished, leaving Grandpa Jim to finish his tale.

“As I was saying, we defeated the beast, Ronald and I. From there, we advanced to the deepest part of the war, the inner Core. This was a terrible place of demons and traps. We had some close calls. It was in that place that I lost some of my hearing. The sound of the explosions was too much for my fragile ears. The volume in that place was too high.

“We finally made it to the central Core, though. Before we knew what hit us, Ronald was cut in half by a mining laser.”

Jimmy gasped. “What did you do then, Grandpa?”

Grandpa Jim laughed, happy to have the full attention of a ten-year-old. “Well, I did what I did best throughout the whole war. I pulled out my rocket launcher and went to town on the Core and its diabolical artificial intelligence. I made it out with one point of health – but I made it out.”

Jimmy scratched his head again. “One point of health? What does that mean?”

Grandpa Jim patted Jimmy on the back before standing to his feet. “You’ll know what it means soon enough, kiddo.”

Becky returned to the doorway.

“I’m hungry!” Jimmy exclaimed as he ran to the kitchen.

Becky stopped Grandpa Jim in the doorway between the two rooms. “You really think it’s healthy to fill his head with such things?”

Grandpa Jim shrugged. “What things?”

“The War? Really? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“It was responsible for the loss of some of my hearing. You know that.”

“I do know that. I was there, remember?”

He smiled warmly. “I do remember, Tootsie. Maybe after dinner…”

Becky shook her head and put her hand on Grandpa Jim’s shoulder. “Dad, I love you. Really I do. But Jimmy is too young to play those kinds of games. You know that. And I’m…well, I’m too old. That was a one-time thing, okay?”

Grandpa Jim gently moved his daughter to the side and passed by her as he made his way to the kitchen. “You’re never too old for video games, sweetie. Never too old.”

Flash Fiction Friday #23 - Imprisoned

Today's piece, Imprisoned, is derived from two different things. One, I have been wanting to write a zombie-type piece for a while now. And two, I started playing the Alpha version of The Dead Linger on Steam. The second time I tried the game, I spawned inside of a prison full of zombies. So there, you have it. Enjoy!

Imprisoned
The smell is the first thing to hit me. Not light. Not the pain in many of my extremities. But the smell. A combination of rotting flesh and burnt wood. I’m not sure what is causing that smell, but I’m almost certain it is what has woken me from the darkness.

At first, I am not able to open my eyes. I reach my right hand up to my eyelids and find them coated in a sticky substance of which I am certain is blood. I lick my fingers and apply sputum to my sealed eyes. When the blood is wiped away, I try to open them again. Slowly. Flickers of light sneak in through the darkness. As soon as my eyes are opened wide, I see the debris around me: large chunks of cement, metal bars, and small pockets of fire here and there.

My arms and legs are spotted in blood. I am able to stand, but my left leg is sore. I wonder if the cement debris collapsed on me at some point. I realize I am in a very small room – a prison cell, indicative of the bars in front of me.

What am I doing in a prison? What caused this damage?

On the other side of my cell door is a mob of beings that look human but are shuffling around in various directions, as if they are brain dead and inattentive. They flood the open area between my cell and the others. We must be in a barracks of some sort. Each individual is clothed in rags that look shredded and torn from whatever caused this damage. Most are male, but there are a few females in the bunch. Only a few. The skin of these strange beings is whiter than snow, and they each have a black stripe down the center of their face.

I spot one of them staring at me from the center of the crowd. His eyes are glazed in a pearl white. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and the others suddenly turn their attention toward me. All of the males, anyway. The females keep shuffling around, oblivious to the world around them.

The ones that have noticed me shuffle to my cell door, grab hold of the bars, and began pulling on them. They are not strong enough to destroy this protective cage I am in. I glance around me and find a large chunk of cement which I lift into my hand. I see a set of keys sticking out of the lock of my cell door. I quickly grab them to keep them away from these strangers.

The grim realization suddenly hits me: I either stay in here – protected from whatever these beings are, or I open my cell door and fight through them to get out of this place.

How long until hunger sets in? How long until help arrives? Is there anyone left in this place who hasn’t been turned into one of these things?

I shove the key back into the cell door…

Flash Fiction Friday #13 - Ignite

Ignite

“I’ve left my life in your hands,” Cery whispered. “If you leave me, I’ll die.”
 

Belm shrugged and brushed his palms together, wiping the dirt from his skin. “You speak as if I’ve loved you this whole time. You still don’t get it, do you? I never loved you. Not the first time we laughed, not the first time we kissed, not the first time we had sex.”
 

Cery tried again to push the pile of wooden beams off the lower part of her body, but they were too many and too heavy. Pinned, she knew she wouldn’t get free without Belm’s help. He had the strength to help her, the muscle to move the wood, but he lacked the will...and the love. She knew all along that he didn’t love her. That isn’t what hurt. Over the course of her life, Cery had grown to accept the fact that nobody could love someone as hideous as her. The face deformity she carried with her from her youth, from the house fire, scared everyone away. She was never surprised to find that Belm did not truly love her. What hurt was the fact that he lacked the decency to help another human being.
 

He adjusted the heavy armor he wore and clanked his way toward her, kneeling down so his face was just above hers. “It’s for the best that you die here, you know? Nobody loves you. Nobody ever has, and nobody ever will. You’re the beast in the castle, locked behind solid walls so nobody has to see you or speak of you. Did you actually expect me to fall in love with what you see in the reflection each day? Honestly, you have to be pretty naive to believe that. Maybe you did because it’s all you had to believe in. Maybe you just wanted a bit of pity and hoped by attaching yourself to me you would get it. You were wrong. I have no pity for the likes of you.”
 

Cery crossed her arms over her chest. “I loved you, you know?”
 

Belm reached his hand out and stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I know. That’s what made this so easy. Bringing the barn down on your pathetic form was so easy, as is the act of leaving you here to die. No food, no water, no help for miles and miles. I’ll fly away like a crow, and you’ll stay here and die like a helpless sparrow.
 

Cery suddenly grabbed hold of Belm’s wrist. “Please, stay with me a little longer. Give me that.”
 

Belm laughed, ripping his arm out of her grip. “You still cling to me, the man who is slowly killing you? You are stupider than I thought you were. Good riddance.”
 

“Please. Just one more kiss? One more time to experience the warmth of your lips?”
 

“Since you asked nicely, and you are a stupid, stupid girl, I will grant your wish.” Belm knelt down again and leaned in to kiss Cery on the lips. Once his lips touched hers, Cery grinned slyly. A blaze of fiery heat swarmed around Belm’s face, igniting his head in flames.
 

He fell backwards and plunged his head into the dirt, scrambling to put the flames out, but they would not die. He screamed and yelled and flailed around. Cery snapped her fingers as the wooden beams pinning her to the floor caught fire and burst into ash, freeing her to stand to her feet. The pressure of the beams had injured her legs, but not badly enough to prevent her from walking. Approaching Belm, she placed her hand on his shoulder and the flames surrounding his face died out, leaving him with a head full of melted skin.
 

“I hope you’ll have a little more respect for me now, Belm. You think because my face is scarred that I am unable to function or love or live? Now you’ll learn with your own scars, with your own burns and scorch marks."
 

“Wh...wha....what have....have....you....done,” he asked behind burnt, trembling lips. Smoke rose from his head and Cery could feel the heat emanating off his now bald skull.
 

She touched her finger to his chin and tilted his deformed face up toward her. “I have now made you like me. Unlovable.” She turned and walked out of the collapsed building before snapping her fingers and lighting it up in a heap of flames.