Short Stories

The Hollers of the Ash Mountains

Last night by an old house screams filled the overgrown fields. But no one came for help. Curfew had passed hours ago and those brave fools who dared to wander into the dark knew the risk they were taking. It would be dangerous to go after the blood-curdling cries. Not knowing if they were coming from a poor soul who was too far from safety or from a demon trying to entice folks from their homes. Those who heard the cries would wait for dawn to find out whether a loved one had lost their lives. 

Such were the ways in the Hollers of the Ash Mountains. 

But tonight, Avery ran barefoot through the neglected wheat. Her heart pounded in her ears as the hem of her long nightgown tangled in the broken stocks. Blood slicked the bottom of her bare feet, causing her to slip. 

Keep running. She thought as the dilapidated farmhouse came into view. 

They stopped demolishing abandoned buildings and homes in case some poor sucker found themselves outdoors at night. With holes in the roves and broken windows, the asylum seeker would not be protected from the elements. But being pelted with rain was the least of their concern as they fled for their lives. Once they crossed the threshold, the demons would no longer pressure their prey. 

Avery didn’t look behind her as she broke through the wheat. Only a matter of yards separated her from certain death or safety. She could do it. Push through the pain in her feet, the strain in her legs. Avery’s lungs burned with every breath she took. But none of that would compare to being shredded to death by the Dwayyo that hunted her. The Moon-Eyed people released their hounds on her as soon as the last rays of the setting sun disappeared from the horizon. 

“Be with me Lord, I am in trouble.” Avery prayed. 

Witches or aliens are what the locals called the people who lived deep in the mountains. The power that the Moon-Eyed people held over the Hollers had gone unchecked for so long that whispers said hell booted the Moon-Eyed out. Avery didn’t care what they were called, she just knew they were evil. Because what else would breed the vicious beast snarling at her back?

The protection prayer trembled out of her. “My refuge and fortress, my God, whom I trust.”

Blood slicked the crumbling steps. Avery let out a string of curses as splinters pierced the tattered souls of her feet. But luck was with her tonight. She wouldn’t have to pry open the door. Someone before her had ripped it clean off its hinges. 

“No evil shall befall me, nor shall affliction come near my tent.” Avery screamed as she threw herself over the threshold, the Dwayyo’s teeth grazed her heels. “For to his angels he has given command to you, that they guard you in all ways.”

Her breath caught as the massive lupine creature smashed into whatever magic kept the dwelling safe. Prayers for witchcraft, she did not know. She was only thankful for whatever watched over her as the force field sent the Dwayyo skidding across the porch. Avery couldn’t move as the Dwayyo threw back its head and howled. 

Moonlight illuminated the porch, giving Avery a chance to truly see what had been hunting her. Avery studied the creature safely inside the dilapidated farmhouse. The beast looked as if the Moon-Eyed crossed an Irish wolfhound with a Maned wolf and nightmares. Razor-sharp black fur covered its thick, muscular body. It paced on legs that looked too long and lean for its massive size. No wonder Avery could see it over the overgrown stocks of wheat. AS it paced, the creature never broke eye contact. Avery wished she had a watch or something to tell the time instead of counting how much saliva dripped from its maw. 

Her eyes grew heavy. Avery was tired, so tired. How she escaped the labyrinth at the bottom of the Moon-Eyed peoples’ cave, she didn’t know. Avery had been down there for weeks with little food or water and no light. If they were planning on eating her, like the legends claimed, they weren’t trying to fatten her up. Though she hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, Avery kept track of the time of day when the long bearded humanoid creatures slept. Aside from their milky white eyes, Moon-Eyed people look like the gnomes that littered so many gardens. Avery wondered if the kidnappings were punishment for the mocking garden statues. 

Humidity rose, driving away the cool night air. The Dwayyo pawed at the threshold, growling, promising it would be back. A warm, red glow broke over the horizon. Turning, the Dwayyo broke into a sprint through the wheat, towards the mountains. 

Avery wished she would have slept while the moon was still high in the night sky. However, the thought of sleep stealing precious daylight terrified her. She leaned her head back against the wall, relishing the warmth from the sun. The threadbare night gown had been useless in the mountain air. 

Brilliant reds and yellows chased away the dark blanket of the night sky. Soon the melody of summer began. Cicadas buzzed through the sweltering heat as if they were the shotgun at the beginning of a race. Miles separated her from the first town, but would she make it. She had to make it. Children trapped in the mountain, and she would not leave them to become a meal for those demonic garden gnomes.

Avery toed over the safety of the threshold. It’s now or never. Her feet burned with every step she took. If she could only get to the road. Maybe there will be someone traveling on this long forgotten highway. 

The sun beat down high overhead. A half a day had passed and not one car had sped by. Avery started to pray, hoping whoever protected her this morning would still be listening to a lost teenage girl who didn’t heed her parents’ warning.  

“Stupid girl believing a stupid boy.” She said, kicking a pile of dirt. 

The soft white dirt coasted her sweat laden skin. She felt like the sugar cookies she and her mom would make during Christmas. Tears filled Avery’s eyes. Would she ever get the chance to do that again? Would she make it out of this God-forsaken Holler and see her mom and brother again? 

Her blood boiled, and it wasn’t from the midday heat. Thoughts of Ethan crossed her mind. His fingers tangled in her hair. His lips tracing along her neck as she shivered in the cool summer breeze. And how he ran like a little bitch leaving as the Dwayyos tried to break through the shed’s thin walls. 

He left her scrambling, trying to pull her shirt back over her head as he fled to his dirt bike. Never once looking back as the maws of the Dwayyo clamped onto Avery’s arm. The last thing she remembers was Ethan speeding away into the night as she screamed for him to come back.

Pushing through the pain lacing her throughout her body, she thought, I’ll kill him. 

Buzzards flew overhead, taunting her. Avery picked up a rock and threw it at the bald sign of death. But the world spun. She would not last much longer. Avery had to find water soon or she would pass out. There was a river nearby, but that would take her closer to the mountain and away from the road. But there would be shade and perhaps food. Was it worth the risk?

One more hour. Avery thought. One more hour of being scoured to death and then she’d go swimming in the ice-cold waters of the Ash Mountains. 

The short shadows of the palm trees were the only thing that noted the passage of time. Avery’s lips cracked. The tangy taste of blood dribbled into her mouth. The world wobbled with each step. She couldn’t wait for the shadows to continue to grow. 

Avery lifted her head, peering at the endless road. Nothing but haze for miles. Sucking in a breath, she veered toward the woods. The land surrounding the Ash Mountains was strange. While the road was made of fine white sugar sand, the earth closer to mountains was rich and dense, carpeted by soft green grass. No wonder why so many risked living in the holler. 

Avery’s family lived on the outskirts of the city, where the strong U.V. light rarely worked. The rural areas were filled with people who spent most of the daylight hours working in the sunshine rather than being trapped in buildings. With the limited chance to spend time outside, many believed that it was a waste to spend their freedom indoors. 

Grass cushioned Avery’s feet. A much appreciated reprieve to the sand that ripped through her tender flesh. Avery breathed through a sigh of relief at hearing the river before finally seeing it through the thick layer of trees. Carefully, Avery approached the river, avoiding any and all mushrooms. Fairy circles trapped those who absently wandered through the forest. Being stuck in one would unleash a whole other set of problems. 

The calm river called to Avery. She dipped her hands into the water, relishing its cool touch. Bringing the water to her mouth, she drank, pushing away the hungry that stabbed at her. She drank to push away the pain the sun had left on her blistering skin. And with one more gulp, she drank away all thoughts of failure. She would make it out of here. Home to her family and where she would end Ethan Moores’ life. 

Curious minnows nibbled at her toes. Nothing swam by large enough to eat her or drag her under water. Avery wished she had the energy to catch the slick fish that swam near her legs. But how would she cook it? She didn’t have a lighter, and even if she did, Avery didn’t want to give a single clue she was in the woods. No, berries would have to hold her over until she could sink her teeth into a delicious hamburger. How many times did she pretend that the stale bread that the Moon-Eyed people fed her were french fries? That the dirt was pepper and dust was salt. She was getting out of these mountains. First she would eat, then she would kill Ethan. 

Avery eyed the bushes nearby. Partially pink and purple berries dotted those close by, but none of the berries were ripe. Even if they may be sour, it was far better than the pain twisting her stomach. Begrudgingly, Avery left the cool river. Her feet hissed at the new texture beneath them. 

Watchful of hidden fairy rings, Avery headed to the closest bush. She plucked a few berries, their juices staining her fingers, and popped them into her mouth. As she chewed, she realized she never paid attention to what she just ate. 

“Oh well. At least I’ll die with a full stomach.” She said, munching on another handful. 

Avery meandered down the path, plucking berries from bushes that littered the river’s bank. Wiping her hand across her mouth, she laughed. Red stained the back of her hand. Quickly, she ran back to the river. No one was going to pick up a hitchhiker that looked like they ate the last person who stopped to help. 

The forest fell quiet, and Avery stilled, waiting for something to attack. But no monsters leaped from the bushes, trying to devour her. Instead, there was a distant rattle from the road. Avery rushed from the river. Her wet feet slipped as she fumbled up the grassy bank, darting towards the dirt road. 

She barely made out the shape of a white truck, its tires spitting gravel, rushing toward her. She had a choice to make, stand on the side of the road and be missed, or walk into the middle. The middle, where the truck might not have enough time to stop. Maybe they would swerve out of the way. But then they could crash. Or they would crash into her. None of that mattered. She would not miss her chance. 

Steading her nerves, Avery stepped out into the middle of the road. Her arms failed over her head as the truck grew closer. 

“Stop. Stop,” she screamed. Her voice strained from lack of use. “Please stop.”

As if the driver heard her last whisper, he slammed on the brakes. Dirt kicked up all around them, sending her into a coughing fit. She was coated head to toe in the fine sugar sand. Tears rolled down her face when she heard the truck door open.

“Are you crazy?” The driver shouted at her. “I nearly killed you.”

Trembling, she said, “I need a ride.” 

The driver approached her. He towered over her, yet didn’t seem much older. He gave her a sidelong glance before shaking his head. “You look like hell.”

Avery tried to wipe the dirt from her face. “I promise hell looks worse.” 

The driver jogged to the bed of the truck. “I have a blanket. It’s not the cleanest, but it’s better than what you’re wearing.” 

Avery took the worn flannel blanket from him. Instead of wrapping it around her, she shed the nightgown. She heard the man swear as it hit the ground and she didn’t think it had anything to do with her lack of modesty. 

“We’re you supposed to be a sacrifice?” He asked.

Avery shook her head. “I trusted the wrong person.” 

Her words stopped her. “Take off your shirt.” She demanded. 

The driver looked at her, stunned.

“Take off your shirt. The Moon-Eyed brand their human acolytes.” 

Without protest, he removed his shirt and threw it in the truck’s cab. “What did they do to you?”

Avery walked around, inspecting the man. “They strap me to tables or hang me from the roof of the cave and peel layers of my skin from my body.”

He hissed. “Why?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed at his pants. “I need to see your butt.”

“What?” He laughed. 

“They brand their under covers on their butt. Normally people don’t ask to get mooned.” She laughed at her own unintentional joke. 

The driver reluctantly pulled down his pants and showed the top of his butt. “Happy? Nothing but a normal glowing moon.”

Satisfied, Avery opened her door and got into the truck. “You know the truck won’t keep us safe.” She said as he closed his door.

“I know,” he said, shifting into gear. “That’s why I got these babies.” 

He flipped a switch, and the road blazed brighter than anything she’d ever seen. Avery gasped, shielding her eyes. He turned them off and punched the gas.

“I’m Jackson, by the way.” He said without taking his eyes off the road.

“Avery.” Avery snuggled into the blanket, resting her against the window. “If I fall asleep, you promise not to kill me.”

Jackson laughed. “Wouldn’t I have just done that on the side of the road instead of messing up my truck?”

“Fair enough.” Avery didn’t have the energy to fight. Her eyes grew heavy and she let the rhythm of the road lull her to sleep.

By the time she awoke, the sun had set. Jackson hadn’t been joking about his lights. The entire road in front of them and behind was illuminated. The light even spilled into the ditches next to them. Avery’s breath hitched at the sound of the Dwayyo howls running in the dark beside them.

“Morning sleeping beauty.” greeted Jackson. “As promised, still alive.”

Avery’s stomach rumbled. “Thank you.” 

Jackson opened the center console and pulled out a bag of half eaten beef jerky. “Hope you aren’t vegan.”

Avery shook her head and took the bag from him. Biting into the meat, she found it to be sweet. Jackson laughed at the face she made.

“That was my first reaction. But for whatever reason, it’s grown on me.” He fished out a few pieces and shoved them into his mouth. “Spicy Dr. Pepper. The creators had to have been high when they made these.”

Avery put the bag back down. The sugar was not sitting well in her stomach. “Not that I am not grateful for the ride. But why are you out here?”

Jackson shrugged. “It’s my unofficial job.” 

“Do you have an official job?” She asked.

“I’m in between them at the moment.” He sighed.

“So, an unemployed rescue ranger. Got it.” 

Jackson looked over at her and flashed a smile that reached his eyes. “If I’m Chip or Dale, does that make you Gadget?”

“Oh, it most certainly does not. I’m more like Monterey Jack, causing all the problems.” Now it was her turn to sigh. 

Jackson watched the joy fade from Avery’s eyes. The blanket fell from her shoulders, exposing the deep wounds where flesh had been removed. “How did you get stuck out here? We’re nearly a hundred miles from any form of civilization.”

Avery whirled on him. “A hundred? Where are we?”

“Girl, you’re in the Blinds.” Jackson said.

Avery shook. “I’m from Sop’s Run. That’s nearly-”

“Six hours away.” He cut her off. 

A slew of curse words spewed from her mouth. How in the world did she travel six hours away from home without one person trying to stop the Dwayyos that captured her? Had her parents not cared she was missing? Maybe since they didn’t find her body, they thought she ran away with that idiot Elliot. Hopefully, his fate was worse than hers. 

“I don’t have enough gas to get us there tonight, but we’re close to the Nary. They have logging for night travelers.” Instinctively, he reached for Avery’s hand. Jackson wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but with how hard she was shaking, she needed something to steady her. “A bath and a bed will do you good.”

Avery didn’t pull away from his touch. She just stared at how brazen this stranger was. Picking her up on the side of the road. Allowing her to inspect him. Who was this Jackson character? Whoever he was, he was a thousand times better than Elliot. 

As they traveled down the road, Avery could see lights in the distance. A sigh of relief escaped as they passed a shabby welcome sign that read, There’s more than nothing in Nary.

Avery gestured towards the sign. “Do you think that means that they have cellphone reception here?” 

Jackson shook his head. “Nah, got about another hour’s worth of traveling before we get that luxury. Though I think the motels have landlines.”

“That’s good. I really want to call my mom. She’s probably still in a panic.”

Jackson turned the truck into the parking lot of a cozy-looking motel. “When did you go missing?” 

Avery surveyed the parking lot. Little status of squirrels and other woodland creatures filled the small flower beds leading up to each room. “June 5th, my eighteenth birthday.” 

Jackson hissed. “Avery, it’s almost September.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I thought, I thought I was keeping track of time better.”

Again Jackson reached over for her, but this time he wiped the tears that were rolling down her dirt covered cheeks. “Sit tight. I’m going to get us a room.” 

Avery watched Jackson walk into the lobby. From the barred window, she saw the front desk worker jump awake. She guessed they weren’t expecting any travels at three in the morning. Soon Jackson returned with a set of keys and moved the truck to a different parking space. 

Jackson leaned into the back of the cab and pulled out a duffle bag and shotgun. “You can never be too careful.” He said, checking that it was loaded. 

“Salt shells, right?” She asked as he grabbed another box.

“Mixed with silver. Only the best for rescue missions.” He said, turning off the truck and the blinding lights with it. 

With surprising speed, Avery ran to the door. Jackson was only a step behind her. Quickly, the door was unlocked, and he threw the bag on the floor. Like he said, there was a phone on the nightstand between the two queen beds. 

Jackson dug in his bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a dark hoodie, and handed them to her. “I’ll shower while you call your folks.”

“Thank you,” was all she could say.

Avery’s fingers hovered over the dial pad. What was she going to say to them? Would her parents even pick up? They were hard sleepers, but would they be sleeping with her gone? The pain they were going through, Avery didn’t want to imagine. Her brother, on the other hand, had probably already moved into her room with the thought of “sucker” coming from his mouth as he dove into bed. 

It took two rings before the person on the other side quicked up. “Hello?” came a frantic female voice.

“Mommy?” Avery choked back a cry.

“Avery? Avery, baby is that you?” Her mother’s voice broke. Avery could hear her father stirring in the background. “George, get up, it’s Avery.”

“Yeah, mom it’s me.” Avery said as the tears fell harder. 

Her dad took the phone. “Avery, where are you? We can come get you.”

She shook her head as if he would see it. “I’m in Nary, but I am safe.”

“You tell that Elliot asshole, if he doesn’t get you back here,” He growled.

“I’m not with Elliot.” Avery interrupted him. “At least not anymore. The Dwayyos caught me and dragged me to the Blind.”

This time, it was her mother’s turn to swear. “I told you, George, she wouldn’t run off with that fool. Baby did,” her voice caught, “Did the Moon-Eyed hurt you?”

“They did mommy, they hurt me bad.” It took every ounce of her to muster her strength to talk. “But I did like you said daddy, I kept my wits. I watched them and tracked their movements. I don’t know how I got out, but I did. And when I did, I ran.”

“Oh my sweet girl, my sweet brave girl.” Her mother cried. 

George took the phone again. “How did you get to Nary?”

Avery laughed. “There was a traveler on the road. He picked me up.” George let out a hiss. “No daddy, he’s been very respectful. He said he’ll bring me home. I’ll text you as soon as we get reception.” 

George took in a breath. “Just tell me, is he prepared to protect you?” 

“Yes daddy, he has salt and silver bullets. I think you would like him under different circumstances.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Her dad let out a yawn, and she followed suit. “Get some rest baby, we’ll see you soon.”

“I love you daddy,” and she waited for her mother to take the phone. “Mommy, can you make me my birthday cake again? I never got to eat it that night.” 

“Of course, sweet girl, get some rest.” Avery swore she could feel her mom kiss her forehead as she said goodnight.

As soon as she hung up the phone, the door to the bathroom opened. Avery knew Jackson was giving her space. She needed it. Crying in front of a stranger wasn’t something she wanted to do. Even if he seemed incredibly kind. 

“I left you the hot water.” He said, holding the door open.

Avery looked. He must have taken a cold shower because she saw no steam. “Thank you.”

With that, Avery got off the bed. Only without the adrenaline running through her body, she felt every step. Her knees buckled under her from the pain. But he never hit the ground. Jackson was behind her, catching her under the arms. Blush stained her cheeks as she noted where the blanket had fallen. The souls of her feet pulsed with pain as he tried to right her.

“I don’t think I can walk.” Avery gritted. 

Jackson adjusted the blanket, wrapping tightly around her. “Then I’ll carry you.”

With ease, he scooped Avery into his arms and made his way to the bathroom. Gently, he placed her on the closed toilet and turned on the shower. “Holy shit.” He cried when he saw the bottom of her lacerated feet. “How did you escape?”

“I don’t know. I just had to.” Avery admitted. 

Jackson shook his head. “But there’s no skin.”

Avery nodded. “They would redo it every time the new skin would grow in. Or if I looked too comfortable on my feet.” 

“Once you get in that shower, I’m not going anywhere.” He said, turning around. “I don’t need you falling and hitting your head.”

“Okay,” Avery stood, holding back a cry of pain. She knew the water was going to be worse, and she didn’t need Jackson turning to see her in all her mangled glory. Then again, he had already seen her, but not everything.

The water was warm. Not steaming hot like she usually liked it. However, she was certain that all the festering wounds on her body would not appreciate being boiled. Placing one foot in her body screamed in protest. But she had to get in. She had to wash away months’ worth of filth. But she couldn’t stand, instead she sank down and sat in the running water. Avery dug her nails into her scalp and scrubbed. The shampoo was too far to reach, and she just needed water to run clean instead of black. 

“You alive?” Jackson called from his position by the sink. 

“I’m breathing, if that’s what you mean?” She called back.

Jackson chuckled. 

Avery grabbed the washcloth and tried to wash, but every time her hands grew close, they refused to touch her skin. “Jackson?” she called.

“Yes?” He sounded as if he was expecting her to say his name.

Avery peeked out from behind the curtain, holding the washcloth in her hands. “Can you help me? My body is refusing to hurt itself.”

Jackson stared at her for a moment before he steeled his nerves. “I don’t want to hurt you either.” 

But before he could protest anymore, Avery pulled back to reveal all her wounds. The skin on her back was in various stages of healing in a strange, knotted pattern. “I don’t think you’ll do worse than the infection that’s probably setting in.” 

Jackson nodded, padding over to the shower. He thought about plugin the tub but to have her sit in the filth water seemed counter productive. Jackson took the course cloth and soaked it, trying his best to soften it before touching her sensitive skin.

Avery hissed as the soap leached into her open sores. 

Jackson whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Avery asked through clenched teeth.

“That I’m hurting you.” But he didn’t stop cleaning her wounds. The edges around the open sores were a violent red. 

Avery shuttered. “You didn’t do this to me. You didn’t slice me up, leaving me to fester inside a filthy mountain.”

Jackson ground his teeth. “The boy who left you. How old was he?”

“I don’t know, eighteen or nineteen.” Avery let the water pour down her neck and over her back. As if the water washed away the memory of Elliot. “It doesn’t matter. He’s probably long gone.”

Jackson nodded and rinsed away the soap. As Avery turned off the water, Jackson grabbed a fresh towel from the sink.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said, shutting the door. 

Avery wrapped her hair in the first towel, letting the water drip off her back. Even though the towels were softer than the washcloths, she was nervous of it pulling on her skin. Tucking the towel around her body, she sighed. When was the last time she felt this warm or safe? Avery traded the towels for the sweatpants and hoodie before finally stepping out of the bathroom.

Jackson was sitting at the foot of the bed nearest the door with his laptop next to him. “Do you like hamburgers?” 

Avery’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food. “With cheese and onions, pickles, and tomatoes.” 

“No lettuce?” He asked, typing. 

Avery’s face burned red. “I only like the crunch kind, not the soft green stuff, and I never know who has what.” 

“Fair enough.” Jackson pulled out his wallet and typed in the card credit information. “There, food has been ordered. Hopefully that monster living inside you will calm down now.”

Avery looked at the empty bed and back at Jackson. Where did this man come from? “I promise my parents will pay you back.” 

Jackson grabbed the remote and tossed it to her before checking the locks on the door again. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“No really, you’ve done too much and -”

“And nothing. If I had a kid sister out there, bloody in the middle of the road, I would hope someone would stop and help her any way they could.” He let out a sigh. 

Avery was surprised to see worry was etched into Jackson’s face. Ever since he had picked her up, he seemed so strong. “Is that why you picked me up? Because you lost your sister?”

“Brother,” Jackson admitted quietly. 

“How old was he?” she asked, putting down the remote.

“He was two, and I was twelve. My mom asked me to let the dogs in for the night and I didn’t want to. I was playing video games, and she yelled for like the third time. I didn’t know anything was wrong until they were blocking the tv.” Jackson sat down on Avery’s bed. “My mom came in screaming, looking for Trevor. We searched everywhere, hoping he was playing hide and seek. But I knew it. I knew he let the dogs in and went outside. He was so proud that he could unlock doors and help.” 

Jackson fisted the blanket. “My mom always told me to latch the top lock, the one he couldn’t reach, but it wouldn’t go that night. So instead of just taking two seconds, I left it unlocked and played games with my friends. It’s been eight years since he went missing.” 

Avery leaned over and took Jackson’s hand in hers. “There are children in the mountains. The Moon-Eyed didn’t cut on them like me. For some reason, they took ‌care of the little ones. I don’t know if he is there, but once I’m better, we can get them.” 

Jackson’s eyes were red, holding back tears. “I wouldn’t want you to go through that.” 

“I was already planning on going back for them.” She admitted. “It would be nice to not do it alone.” 

An awkward knock pulled them apart. Despite the familiar hum of a delivery drone approaching, Jackson instinctively drew his gun. Unlocking the door, Jackson stepped out into the ultra bright light, coming face to face with the delivery bag. Grease smeared across his cheek as the drone swerved. Doing his best not to knock it from the air, Jackson took the bag from the drone. Avery crept off the bed and was behind Jackson before he could shut the door. 

They both settled on his bed. Avery grabbed the remote and turned on the tv for background noise. But neither watched as they devoured their late dinner. Fries and burgers disappeared in record time. Jackson picked up the wrappers and threw away the trash before looking at his phone.

Jackson glanced back at Avery, who was snuggling into the pillows. “We got there a few hours before sunrise. Sleep would do us some good.” 

He started to make his way to the other bed before she caught his hand. 

“Please stay,” she asked in a small voice. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jackson squeezed her hand. “Just the other bed.”

Avery had thought about this the whole time they ate. The worst part of being in the mountains was suffering through everything by herself. Not knowing when she’d ever see another soul again. 

She felt her cheeks flush. “I mean here, with me. You can sleep under the covers and I’ll sleep on top. I just- I can’t be alone.” 

Jackson gave Avery a half smile and kicked off his boots. Digging through his duffle bag, he grabbed his charger and plugged in his phone. As he set the alarm, he looked over at Avery and winked. “As long as you don’t kick in your sleep, we’re good.”

Jackson cut off the lights, and Avery held her breath. She knew it was ridiculous to be afraid of the dark. Especially since she wasn’t alone. She could see the UV lights illuminating the parking lot through the blackout curtains. But still her heart raced. 

“I can turn them back on,” Jackson said, settling in the blankets.

Avery shook her head. “It’s okay.”

Instead of turning on the lamp, Jackson got out of bed and turned on the bathroom light. Leaving the door ajar, Avery relaxed as Jackson climbed back into bed.

“There, just in case you need to use the bathroom.” Jackson shifted, tucking a pillow from the other bed between his knees. 

Avery sighed, snuggling deep into the sheets. They smelled clean, a far cry from the moldy prison she had been kept in. A bit of jealousy ran through her as she noticed Jackson’s breathing change. Long, deep breaths came and went. Eventually lulling her to sleep. 

When the alarm dragged her from sleep, Avery woke to an empty bed. Sweat beaded her brow. Avery had to calm herself before she sent herself into a panic attack. Looking around the room, she found Jackson’s duffle bag still next to the door. She glanced to the bathroom, but the door was wide and the light was off. 

Before a full-fledged attack could set in, the door opened. Jackson crept in quietly, holding three cups and a white bag. From the smell of it, that bag contained bacon. 

“Did I wake you?” He still whispered. 

Avery shoved her hands under the covers, trying to hide how badly they were shaking. “Is that breakfast?” 

Jackson placed the coffees and sandwiches on the nightstand. “I didn’t know what you took in your coffee.” He said, pulling out a handful of sugar and creamers from his jacket pocket. 

“I don’t drink coffee,” Avery blushed. 

“That’s why I brought this, just in case.” He said, handing her the third cup. 

“Hot chocolate.” Avery melted back into the pillows. She sighed as the sweet whipped cream melted on her tongue from the warm, smooth, rich chocolate. 

The two devoured their breakfast and quickly packed their belongings. Jackson had told her it was about a half a day’s drive to her parents’ town. The narrow, winding roads could make things complicated. Few gas stations connected Nary and Sop’s Run. They had to make every mile count. If it was a straight path, fifty miles would be fine. But the hollers of the Ash Mountains offered no simplicity. 

Jackson turned on the road and music blared, drowning out every thought Avery had. It was almost September. That meant everyone back home was about to start their senior year. Her friends were going to worry about what to wear to homecoming and prom. What kind of prom promposal would their crush give them? It all seemed so pointless knowing what lurked under the mountain.  

Jackson looked at Avery, a silent question in his eyes. “Avery?” He called. But she was too lost in thought. She bounced her knee nervously. Jackson called her a few more times before reaching out and touching her shoulder.

He broke her from her thoughts. But instead of the calming effect he had hoped for, Avery shrieked.

“What the hell, Avery?” Jackson jerked the steering wheel, pulling his hand back. 

Avery grabbed the door as they went off the road. “Sorry.”

Jackson corrected the truck. “What were you thinking about?”

“Life,” said Avery, throwing her hands in the air. “They are going to expect me to go back to high school. How am I supposed to sit in class when I know there are children being kept down there? There might be others like me that were being flayed alive.”

This time, Jackson took Avery’s hand, and she did not scream. Elliot never held her hand. But Jackson wasn’t Elliot. Last night, he didn’t even move in his sleep. Elliot wouldn’t have cared if she was almost flayed alive. He would have been pressuring her, claiming how much he missed her. As if Jackson read her mind, a flicker of worry could be seen in his eyes.

“Don’t pity me,” Avery said.

“I don’t,” Jackson frowned. “There are few people I know who would have survived what you’ve been through. And even less, who would go back to save those left behind.”

Avery soaked in her praise. She wasn’t sure how much she would get when she returned home. Everyone will blame her for it and Elliot will get off free luring another girl from their home. How was she so stupid to believe she was different? That he cared about her, when everyone warned her Elliot would hurt her. Although she doubted that any of her friends expected her to be taken away by Dwayyos. 

“Why don’t we just get you home first before you worry about what is expected of you?” Jackson suggested. 

Avery looked down and found Jackson tracing lazy circles with his thumb on the top of her hand. “Would you come with me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. 

Avery smiled. Jackson was a stranger, yet he settled her when she should have still been reeling in fear from what she had just gone through. Avery inched close enough that she could rest her head on his shoulder. The GPS said they had a few more hours until they were in Sop’s Run. Enough time for her to get some sleep. She would need all her energy to face her parents. 

A loud pop tour Avery from her sleep. Jackson did his best to keep control of the truck. But from the sounds of the tire flapping and smacking the side of the truck.

“Shit,” Jackson cursed. 

“Do you have a spare?” Avery peered out the window at the blown back tire. 

Jackson hit the steering wheel. “No! That was the spare’s spare.”

This was not the place to break down. They were driving on the edge of the mountain, along a road that was too narrow for the truck, let alone to stop. Jackson pulled the truck as close to the wall as possible, giving Avery no space to open her door. 

“We walk from here,” said Jackson, checking his phone. A single bar of 3G reception was all he had. 

Avery nodded and climbed out after Jackson. He was at the back of the truck, stuffing his duffle bag full of ammo. With the sun high in the sky, they had time. Time to find shelter. Avery didn’t check the GPS before falling asleep. Hell, she didn’t even know how long she had been asleep. 

Jackson looked down at Avery and her bare feet. “I can carry you.”

“I’m hurt, not broken.” She said, “besides, you need to save your energy in case you have to carry me and run.” 

“Avery, we had a thirty-minute car ride.” Jackson switched the GPS from driving to walking. “Which is now a 5 hour walk.”

“But at least it’s downhill.” She said, pointing to the glowing town below.

Jackson tried to hide his smile as he loaded a short barrel shotgun. He gave a sideway glance to Avery before handing it to her. “You know how to use this?”

Avery clicked on the safety and pointed it down the road. “Point open even at the bad guy and pull trigger?”

He nodded. “But you might want to keep the safety off. You never know what lurks up here.”

“You mean like guys in trucks?” she teased

Jackson slung a crossbow over his back and locked the truck. “Yeah, those are the worst.”

Jackson made Avery walk close to the mountain wall. Even though the road was smooth, the souls of her feet were still tender. Avery kept her eyes trained on the lights below. Sop’s Run. Home. They had made it and yet it was still so far away. There was something weird surrounding the town. Had they dug a moat? Or build a wall? She could not make out the black line from so far away. 

“I’m surprised my dad hasn’t sent out a search party,” said Avery, breaking the silence. 

At a rustling in the bushes near the trail, Jackson withdrew a pistol from his waistband. But he casually said, “He’s probably waiting on the outskirts.” 

Avery flicked off the safety of her shotgun. Maybe Jackson was right. It would be okay to be ready to aim and fire at a moment’s notice. With a sheer drop to the side of the mountain, there was nowhere left to run. “So, what are you going to do now that your mission is done?” 

“Who said getting you home meant we were done?” He teased. 

But Avery didn’t miss his finger curl around the trigger. Jackson’s eyes were now trained above them. There was a hole in the mountain’s side. Avery stopped. She would walk nowhere near the hole.

“Get behind me,” he told her. “At best, that’s just a bear’s cave, and we die because of a grumpy momma bear.”

“Because I would totally try to pet her cubs — the tiny paws and sweet little noises!” Avery said as she grabbed a hold of the back of Jackson’s shirt.

Jackson turned. Avery had closed her eyes. She was trembling. With his finger, Jackson lifted Avery’s chin. She opened his eyes and met him.

“You are safe,” he said calmly. 

She nodded.

Jackson ran his thumb along her chin. “No, you need to say it.”

Avery trembled. “I am safe.” 

“Again.” He requested.

Taking a deep breath, Avery steeled herself. “I am safe.”

“With a little more conviction.” Jackson let out a low laugh. “Please.”

Avery pumped the shotgun. “I am safe.”

Jackson smiled, letting go of her to turn back down the path. “Good, just don’t shoot me.”

Avery’s hand lifted to her face to where Jackson’s finger used to be. The spot was still warm. 

The rumbling and growls that came from the cave let them both know that there weren’t any adorable bear cubs waiting to be pet. If Avery could have, she would have crawled onto Jackson’s back and asked him to run all the way until they reached the town’s borders. Part of her knew he would do it. But she said she was safe. She needed to believe that right now she was. As long as the evening sun broke through the forest canopy, the demons would stay away. And thanks to those demons, there were enough dead prey animals littering these woods that Avery hoped the predators would leave them alone. 

Avery held her breath. The claws scratching at the dark threshold hold made her wounds pulse. It took every bit of strength to put one foot in front of the other. Knowing that the bottom of the mountain was in tumbling distance kept her going. As they passed the opening, Avery thought about sliding down, but she didn’t need to tear up her healing flesh. Jackson, seeming to have read her mind, stopped. 

“Get on,” he demanded, dropping to a squat.

“What?” she asked, staring at him. 

Jackson patted his back. “The sun is setting and we’re running out of time. Hop on and we’ll make a run for it.” 

“But what if something comes after us?” She looked back at the forest. 

“Then shoot it.” He said, reminding her of the weapon she was clutching tightly. 

Avery looked down at the shotgun. “Can I have the pistol? That would be easier to use while you run.”

Jackson switched guns. He clicked on the safety before shoving it into the duffle bag. “Let’s go Ree.”

“Ree?” puzzled Avery as she hopped onto his back. 

“Avery is just so long,” He said, taking off. “Thought I could try something out.”

Avery’s legs squeezed around his waist, and her arms tightened. “You know, they say if you name the strays, it means you keep them.”

“I told you, we got plans once you’re healed.” Jackson was sure-footed with every step. 

Avery noticed every root and rock that lined their path. She held her breath again. Not in fear this time, but in excitement. She swore she could smell Johnson’s bakery. They passed the worn welcome sign with the blue chipped paint that highlighted the river that ran through the town. Avery was surprised. While so much looked the same, there was something new. A fortified concert wall loomed before them. From what Avery could see, the wall wrapped around the entire town. As Jackson slowed, Avery gasped.

Hanging before the steel doors was a body. The teen had dark hair and freckles across his nose and cheeks. From his neck was a sign that read murderer. But that wasn’t what stole Avery’s breath. 

“Elliot.” She hissed.

Jackson held tighter to Avery’s hands. He saw what she saw too.

His eyes weren’t the same as theirs. No, in the setting sun, they were moon white. Just like those who spent months craving skin from her body. 

Lent, Short Stories

Day 21: Not Wonderland

This had to be illegal. It was completely dark, and Brooke just climbed over two chain-link fences. That’s two more than she ever climbed over in her life. Surely people only did that on television. But here she was with a flashlight in her hand, following a white rabbit. Who was she? Alice?

No, she wasn’t Alice, and this definitely wasn’t wonderland. Unless everyone who lost the head to the queen of hearts was buried here. The small rabbit darted across the graveyard. It bounced between headstones, nibbling flowers left for loved ones, only to stop in front of the mausoleum.

“Where are you going, little bunny?” Brooke asked, peeking from behind a tree. 

The steps glowed as the rabbit hopped up to the door, each paw glowing the same color. Scared to move, Brooke kept still as possible. She had been following the rabbit for the last six hours after it escaped from her professor’s laboratory. Until this magic moment, she did not know why her professor was so under that it escaped. All it did was poop all over the lab and eat power cords. If anything, the rabbit’s escape was a blessing. At least it was to this broke college student. Who could afford to replace 80 dollar cables every other week? 

With at least a decade’s worth of grime encrusted on the track, the door of the mausoleum creaked open. Silently, Brooke prayed the door wouldn’t shut before she got there. She couldn’t see a handle or a lock from where she stood. From all appearances, the mausoleum seemed sealed. 

As if the universe heard her prayer, the door became stuck in the grime as it tried to close. Brooke raced from her hiding spot. Her heart pounded. She could hear the door almost freeing itself. Brooke slid in just in time as the door slammed shut. 

The years of dust overpowered Brooke’s need for stealth. She coughed and gagged trying to catch her breath. And to make things worse… Her flashlight died. 

Thankfully, whoever designed this house of the dead loved the moon. A rich glow poured in from the constellation windows that lined the ceiling. Brooke looked all over for the rabbit, but only found a large marble pedestal holding a black onyx coffin. Creeping around the coffin, Brooke saw tracks in the dust swooping out in a crescent pattern. However, there was no way a five-pound bunny would have been able to move the heavy coffin. 

Brooke dropped to the ground. If the rabbit could activate whatever trip device moved the coffin, it would have to be on the floor. Brooke looked around for any sign of an unlevel tile, a button, a clue of some kind.

“Nothing better eat me,” she muttered to herself as her hand traced along the foot of the pedestal. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

As she stood, her foot slipped on the dust, and she kicked the pedestal. Brooke desperately grasped for something to soften her fall, but there was nothing, not even the floor. The title had disappeared. Brooke plummeted into the darkness. Her screams echoing against the walls. 

“What a horrible way to die.” Brooke thought. “Alone, afraid, body mangled, where no one will ever find me.”

 But the sounds of crashing waves drowned her fears, replacing them with new ones. Brooke’s arms waved wildly by her side. Water meant she had to get her body in the correct position. If she wanted to avoid breaking any bones or knock herself out, Brooke had to enter the water with her toes pointed at a 45-degree angle, legs closed, and arms secured to her side. Drown was not the way she planned on dying. But Brooke was in the dark in more ways than one. She didn’t know how much time she had. 

The sound grew closer. Brooke had stopped screaming long ago. She didn’t need her mouth hanging open to catch a mouth full of water. But that didn’t stop her from thinking how dead that rabbit was if it survived the fall. The salty mist stuck to her face. Quickly, she drew her arms to her side and pointed her toes. A wave crashed over head dragging her deeper under the water. Brooke tumbled under wave after wave, unable to tell which way was up. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen and her eyes stung. She wanted to shut them to make the pain go away. As her vision blurred, four bright lights darted through the water. The rabbit. 

 Brooke kicked after the vexing bunny, finally breaking the surface, only to be smacked in the face by another wave. But a breath of soggy air was better than death. Brooked gasped, treading water. Every muscle burned, but that meant she was alive. A wave pushed her forward. Or where she thought forward would be. Where did she fall? Maybe this was wonderland after all.

The sky, or ground covering, wherever she was, was still dark. However, there was a faint glow in the distance. With a bit of salt oxygen in her lungs, Brooke paddled forward, hoping she was heading in the same direction as the phosphorescent rabbit. 

Waves crashed harder as the horizon came into view. A sharp and dangerous reef was under Brooke. She protected her head as she dove with the waves. She felt like a dolphin, only there was no joy in her dives, only survival. A few times, panic set in her when kelp wrapped around her ankles. Brooke thought maybe a giant squid or octopus had attacked her. Only she had seen no living creature in the water aside from the troublesome bunny here and there. 

At last her feet met the sea floor. Exhausted, she wasn’t sure if she should try standing, fearful that once she stopped swimming, she’d be unable to start again. Brooke was having a hard time making out the land ahead of her. She could see trees, but the waves still swallowed the beach. Finally, she stood. Waves broke on shore and gently receded. Satisfied that the shore wasn’t covered in rocks, she rode in the waves instead of swimming. 

The final wave brought Brooke ashore. Laying in the shore break, Brooke started laughing. What had her life become? All she wanted to do was earn extra credit by finding the stupid rabbit. Not go on some wild adventure where the sand glistened. 

Brooke rolled over. With her face close to the sand, she discovered it wasn’t the typical sand she had spent a lifetime looking at. Instead of being tan and white, these were particles of black, green, red, purple and blues. Sitting up, she scooped a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. They felt like tiny little gem stones. But why didn’t they scratch her more than the sand at home did? 

A vine trailed down the beach from the dunes, ending in front of Brooke. She trudged her way to the plant, only to find that it, too, was not normal. It possessed the flexibility of a plant, yet the strength of emeralds. Brooke stranded her eyes towards the forest ahead of her. That’s when she saw all the palms on the palm trees glistened like the sand. A breeze floated from the sea and into the forest. All the trees sounded like delicate wind chimes.

Another breeze blew, this time it caressed her face and whispered. “We’ve been waiting for you Brooke.”

Brooke’s eyes widened. There at the edge of the forest were a group of soldiers clad in gleaming armor. And in the arms of the leader was the illuminated rabbit. 

Lent, Short Stories

Day 15: To Kill a Senator

“Was that supposed to hurt?” Casey smiled, pulling the knife from her chest. She licked the blood off the tip before plunging the blade deep into her attacker’s eye. Her skin knit itself shut, leaving a bloodstain as the only sign of their failed assassination attempt. “Anyone else wanna try me?” 

One of the three men left standing pulled out his pistol and emptied his clip into Casey’s head, knocking her to the floor. The trio expected to see brain matter and skull fragments splattered across the hangar’s floor, instead; the trio ran as she pried herself from the ground. Her wound healed as she chased after them. 

The sun blinded her as she shoved the steel door open, almost toppling off the second-floor platform. “Where am I?” 

Overgrown vines covered with razor-sharp thorns created a wall between her and a road out. Casey knew her abductors had thrown her in the back of an SUV, but that was all she could make out before the drugs rendered her unconscious. The stairs leading to the landing below swung loose, leaving her stranded while they fled in a worn-out truck. 

“They really don’t get it, do they?” Taking three steps back, she dove into a front tuck.

Her landing wasn’t as graceful as she had expected. A thorn pierced her foot, sending her tumbling into its grasp. On the ground, she found a tunnel system dug out by a small animal. As she pulled her way through the vines, she ripped apart what was left of her blood-soaked shirt. As she approached the dirt road, she heard voices. Casey’s abductors hadn’t gone far. 

“You idiots. What part of ‘cut off her head’ didn’t you understand?” The grizzly voice belonged to a pair of shiny men’s Prada leather shoes.

“She should have died from doc’s cocktail,” the deep southern voice wavered. “Men three times her size croaked moments after the shot.” 

The Prada shoes paced as a gunshot rang out, landing the southern man on the dirt in front of Casey’s hiding place. His blue eyes bore into her as he choked on blood, trying to warn them of her presence. 

“Now you two will find that little bitch before I have a riot in my hands.” He kicked the dead man in the head. “Clean up the bodies. I don’t need any negative press before the election.” 

“No, no, you wouldn’t want your failed science experiment ruining your chances at snatching up the faith-based votes.” Casey spit under her breath as the two trucks drove away. 

It took three hours of navigating down the mountainside before Casey made her way to the nearest form of civilization. The rural town had a dilapidated market on the outskirts, and just north of an immaculate Baptist church was a rundown hotel with a glowing vacancy sign. 

“Well, no shit.” She said to herself, pulling the door open.

The small wind chime above the door brought a sweet gray-haired lady from the back. “Can I help you?” 

Although she asked politely, it was obvious that Casey was unwelcome. She had grown used to people being put off by her cybernetic eye, especially when it was trying to focus. However, when the landlady made sure that Casey saw the freshly shined revolver laying across the guest book, it was irritating. Not like the bullet would even kill her.

“Just need a bed and a shower.” Casey dropped a bloody hundred-dollar bill on the revolver, “and a phone.” 

The woman snatched up the money and handed Casey the key. “Long-distance is extra.”

“As if there is anything that isn’t.”

Casey ran the water, filling the bath. Steam filled the icy room. She hadn’t expected central heating, but maybe a fireplace or a space heater wouldn’t be too much to ask for. She half expected if she went into the cellar, she’d find a wood fire heating the hotel’s water. 

The bath soothed her aching bones and swollen feet. Even with all the modifications the senator had done to her, she still felt pain. Sometimes she thought the twisted bastard intensified it. With how much he enjoyed making his interns watch him commit self-flagellation, it was a wonder how most of them had escaped being at the end of his whip. Casey knew first hand its sting. He claimed it was the only way he could ensure full trust and obedience from his staffers on his road to the White House. It didn’t matter that it was all utter bullshit. 

McCormick noticed some staffers weren’t retiring and, more often than not, they were simply changing offices. Soon he chose those staffers to be a part of his team, making them undergo an extensive background check and a full blood panel. He only wanted staffers who carried the 3K mutation. The mutation regenerated cells at a rapid pace that the carriers wouldn’t age or die, thus becoming his cybertronic guinea pig. He wanted an army that would protect him and his legacy. Even though there were rumors that he was trying to integrate the mutation into his body. 

She folded her legs underneath her and let herself sink under the water. “I’ll bury you,” she thought as her pink hair dye surrounded her, “and make you pay for all the other lives you’ve destroyed.” 

Casey held the phone’s receiver in her hand as the dial tone finally timed out. She couldn’t remember a single number. She closed her eyes, attempting to access her database, but found it empty. Not only were all her emergency contacts missing, but so were chunks of her memories. Desperate, she punched in numbers, hoping one would pan out.

“Reggie’s Pizza.”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Uh, Reggie’s in Clear View or Fox Barrel?”

“Fox Barrel.”

“Oh sorry, wrong number.” She quickly reset the phone. “Didn’t get all my memories, McCormick.” 

Four more mis-dials and she finally reached a contact. 

“Jackson, can you access me?” She demanded. 

“Cass, you’ve gone dark.” He said, nearly being muffled out as he started his motorcycle. “If you hadn’t, do you think you’d be in this shit hole right now?”

“You’re seven hours away.” She flopped on the bed. “I could run to you faster than you could escape Senator McCormick’s detail.” 

“I thought you were dead. Do you really expect me to sit here while that nut job parades around the country as if he’s going to save us from ourselves?”

“Jackson, don’t you dare go off all half-cocked without me or the others to back you up?” She waited until the engine cut off. “I’m going to sleep until sunset and then I’ll try to reach you again.” 

“I’ll have Greg work on getting your coms up. I don’t know what they did to you, but they fried all your circuits.”

“Would a bullet to the skull have anything to do with that?” The question wobbled out of her. 

“Yes, I’m going to go with yes. Bullets to your skull make you go on the fritz.” The door to his house slammed. “What have you gotten yourself into, Cass?”

“Bringing down America’s most loved mad scientist masquerading as a Jesus freak is far more deadly than I thought.” She quipped. “Why didn’t the nanobots fix the wiring?” 

“I’m not going over this again. They only fix your human parts.”

“What about my non-human parts?” She yawned. “Good thing I’m more than a cyborg.” 

“No one is arguing there. The cyborg would be following the rules and standing next to McCormick while he wins the latest primary.” 

“Don’t worry, I was already close to him today, close enough to hear him call for my head.” A crackly pierced her inner ear. “Is Greg getting into my head?”

“He says he’s close.”

“Well, tell him to knock that shit off. It sounds like a buzzing bee.” She rolled over and saw the sun setting. “So much for my nap. I’ll contact you when I get out of deliverance.”

A church bell rang out through the dead evening. Casey watched from her room’s window as all the town’s people left their homes and made their way to the church. The quiet hotel came alive as all of its patrons left their rooms. She waited until the hotel’s hall stilled before picking the lock to the adjoining room. She needed to find something to wear that wouldn’t draw attention to herself, unlike her blood soaked tattered shirt.

The woman who was residing in the room next door had an abhorrent taste and it wasn’t just in her clothing. Littered about the room were campaign signs to support Senator McCormick.

“Idiots.” Casey said while searching through a suitcase. “Of course you travel with your Bible. Who doesn’t bring yoga pants on vacation?”

Casey threw on an extra long maxi dress and cut it off above her knees. It wasn’t her first choice but, even cybertronics were no match for the other option, a skin tight pencil skirt. It would only take one hop over a fence before her ass would be exposed to anyone she was fleeing.

Political rabble poured out from the church. It was hard to believe that this wretch of a town would be somewhere McCormick would waste his time in, but here he is, where he disposed of his shame. 

“You’re going to miss the speech,” said a man rushing past her. 

“Oh, we better hurry. Wouldn’t want to miss a night of empty promises and lies. Now that I think about it, I could have experienced this from the comfort of my home in sweatpants, listening to my husband.”

He stopped enough to spit the brown juice from his chewing tobacco onto her feet. “With a mouth like that, I’m surprised you have one at all.”

Casey’s eye focused on the ID chip in his neck. Cleetus Brown, forty-seven, unemployed, and a holy roller, a part of the Seven Brothers motorcycle gang. “You best step inside that church, Cleetus. That’s if you don’t want to find your teeth in the street.”

His hand reached for his pistol, but the MC announced McCormick. “Fucking freak.” He slurred at her as he disappeared inside. 

“I swear they would all stay inside a burning building if he told them to.” Casey walked around the building, coming face to face with the tacky tour buses plastered with McCormick’s face. 

Four black Secret Service SUVs surrounded it. They were treating him as if he had already won the election and he hadn’t even won the nomination yet. In truth, those behind the rifles were most likely on the lookout for her, but she wasn’t crazy. There was no way she’d take on McCormick in such a small setting. If she was going to risk her life, the world would see what kind of monster he really was. 

She locked onto the Secret Service agent sitting in the back SUV. Agent Miller was a forty-five-year-old smoker whose nicotine levels were dropping. It would only be a matter of minutes before he’d stepped away for a cigarette break. He looked down at his watch and back at the empty parking lot. 

“There you go.” She said to herself as he stepped out of the car. “Go, chief, on that cancer stick.”

Though she would not kill the senator yet, she was going to make his life miserable. Squeezing in between the narrow space between the hood flap and the SUV, she forced it open. Grabbing a hold of some exposed hoses, she yanked them off and fluids poured out. Just for good measure, she stuck the hose in between a belt and a pulley before closing it. 

An old, rusted out Jeep Wrangler sat unattended in a bar parking lot. Casey waited until the last few drunks stumbled into the bar before leaving her hiding spot. Hopping into the jeep, she flipped down the sun visor, and the keys fell onto her lap. “Oh, thank you backwoods creepers for being so predictable.” 

The sun was rising by the time she made it into Fox Barrel. Unlike the backwoods town she just left, Fox Barrel was far from sleepy. Commuters packed the highway as they made their way to the overcrowded downtown epicenter. Casey turned down a few more roads before finding a packed supermarket parking lot to abandon the Jeep in. After circling a few times, she found a parking spot away from the excessive amount of security cameras. 

 “Can anyone hear me?” She asked, turning off the engine and pressing into her com. Even if Greg or Jackson had heard her, she was still in the dark. After wiping her fingerprints off the steering wheel and shifter. She placed the keys back where she found them. Jackson’s house was only a few miles out and there was no reason to lead McCormick or the cops straight to them.  

The voters didn’t let the early morning stop them from lining up outside their precincts to cast their ballots. Down the road, solicitors passed out buttons and pens with candidates’ names trying to entice the last minute undecided voter. Littering the parking lot were pamphlets explaining ‌why the only way to save America was to vote for McCormick.

“Ma’am, do you know who you’re voting for today?” Asked an overly chipper woman in her mid thirties. She shoved a pamphlet in Casey’s face. 

Casey stuffed it into her pocket. “I’m certain that I will not be voting for the man who is campaigning for the extermination of my kind.” 

“You misjudged him. McCormick wants nothing more than to bring the humans and the cyborgs together.” She tried not to stare at Casey’s busted eye. “By the looks of it, your body is rejecting your decision to go against God’s will. Don’t worry, my dear, once those machine pieces are gone, I’m sure most will forgive your transgressions.” 

“My mechanical transgressions are the least of my worries on the day I finally meet my maker.” Casey scanned the solicitor’s chip. “Now your three abortions because you didn’t want to take birth control or use a condom might be a little harder for them to look past.” 

“Well, I’d never-”

“You most certainly do not.” Casey flipped the woman the bird as she walked away.

Drifting out of Fox Barrel’s bustling downtown and into one of its quieter suburbs was as dangerous as the small town she just fled from. Parents were piling their children into their eco-friendly SUVs, and every single one of them noticed the stranger walking down their streets.

Election signs were proudly posted in front yards, letting every neighbor know who to avoid for the next six months. For Casey, they were letting her know who wouldn’t try to shoot at her.  As she took notice of the shiny flaps of plastic, there weren’t many who embraced genetic modifications. 

“Asshole,” she muttered, ripping a McCormick sign from the swale of Jackson’s modest colonial home. Casey walked around the house, ripping the hard plastic into tiny pieces before dropping it in the recycling bin. “You can put the gun down Greg, I’m not a raccoon.” 

“You never know,” he said, lowering the shotgun. “The raccoons around here are mighty vicious.” 

She tackled him into a hug, almost knocking them both over. “Where’s Jackson?”

“Oh, I see who’s more important.” He kissed the top of her head. “Maybe I’ll just scrap all these parts I found.”

“You’ll always come first, baby brother .” Casey smiled before slipping into the kitchen. “I just need my husband for other things.”

“Fixing your busted skull ain’t one of them.” He hollered as the door slammed. 

Casey walked through her half unpacked kitchen and into the hallway adorned with pictures of their wedding. Jackson in his dress uniform watching Casey clad in white walking towards him. Their photographer captured every moment perfectly. 

“Bless his heart.” She cooed.

“What did I do now?” Jackson asked, sweeping her up in his arms and pulling her into the office. His once brown hair, still close cut, was now salt and pepper.

“Nothing, my love.” She kissed him. “Just risking your life for me when you don’t need to.”

“Would you have me hide our marriage?”

“No,” Her smile vanished as his smile lines sunk in deeper. “Why won’t you take the bots?”

“3K already makes us live longer than most, my dear.” He dropped her to her feet ready to hash out their never ending feud. “I’d like to remain human, unlike someone else who needs the side of her head replaced, again.” 

She rolled her eyes and sat on an upholstered bench as Greg rolled a cart full of parts into the office. He looked ready to repair a car or computer rather than operate on a human.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jackson. She acts perfectly human to me.” He stooped and pulled out a coffee thermos from inside a box of wires. Before she could ask, he poured her a cup and handed it to her. “Can’t say I’ve met many borgs who consume a pot a day.”

“I resent that.” She laid back after a few sips of the lukewarm energy boost. “What’s in the shop today?”

“A new com unit and I have an update to the Casey O.S.” He held up a new eyeball with a lavender iris. It looked almost human. “Hair up or I shave it.” With her hair out of the way, Greg unscrewed a back panel behind her ear. 

Casey injected a local anesthetic just below her left eye and waited until it went numb. “I’m ready, doc.” 

His gloved hands pushed her brass cybertronic eye into her skull. Slowly, he pulled on the frayed wire and disconnected it from its socket. 

“Every time you do this, my sinuses drain.” 

“For the love of God, do not spit.” He groaned. “It’ll get all over your wires and we do not have time for that today.” 

“Don’t tell me those are my new mixing bowls.” Casey pleaded as her eye clanked into the metal bowl.

“Casey, stop moving.” Greg asked, threading a thin wire through the opening in the side of her head. “If I don’t set this on your cochlea, your com unit will be completely shot.” 

She remained still and the low hum that had started after the gunshot vanished. Greg grabbed the fresh eye off the table and plugged it into its socket. A loud screech filled her head as soon as he snapped it in.

“You did that on purpose.” She hissed, covering her ear with her hand, which only amplified the sound.

“I’m hoping it’ll make you be more careful.” He pulled off his bloody gloves and attached her cables to the computer.

“You’re right. Getting shot in the face was so much fun. I think I’ll do it again tomorrow.” Casey’s eye flickered off. “Excuse you.” She plugged the cable back in to finish the updates. “Jackson, can you turn on the news, please? I want to see how McCormick fared last night.” 

“Casey, what did you do?” Casey, what did you do?” he teased, flipping through channels until they saw the unnaturally white smile of Senator McCormick on their screen. 

He stood next to a pretty blonde reporter who had a glazed over look on her face as he spoke. “We’d like to thank the town of Fettit for their hospitality last night. I know they weren’t expecting so many visitors to their tiny town, but that’s what makes this country so great. It’s the people in places like this that are the backbone of the American people.” McCormick grabbed a hold of the diner door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard the biscuits and gravy here were the best in the south.”

Jackson switched off the TV. “Casey, you let him linger in our backyard?”

“I wanted to stop him from getting too far before Greg could fix me.” 

“I may have repaired your parts, but there’s no fixing crazy.” He left the room, pulling his rattling cart behind him.

“What do you have up your sleeve, wife?”

“Only some overdue murder and mayhem.” She answered sweetly. “Would you care to join?” 

“As if I would miss out on an assassination.” He swept her into his arms, dipped her and kissed her. 

The oppressive summer heat did nothing to deter the last minute voters. Jackson had to navigate through the throng of people pouring into the streets. 

“This is ridiculous.” Casey said, scanning the crowd. A few borgs stood in line, but none matched her level of modifications.

“This is nothing.” He scoffed. “Once McCormick announced he was making his acceptance speech here, people camped outside the convention center.”

Casey flipped through the radio stations. Every American news outlet was covering the elections.

“Come on. There’s gotta be something else going on in the world.” She sighed. 

Jackson punched a few buttons on the steering wheel, and a British newscaster came across the speakers. “While the States are entrenched in their political cycle, no one has offered to comment on the mass graves unearthed in Senator McCormick’s hometown of River Basin, Massachusetts. Some bodies uncovered were beheaded and mutilated, while others were obviously scavenged for parts.”

“Isn’t that where McCormick brought his staffers?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah. But on paper, it’s his family farm.” She said, staring out the window. People were making their way in droves to the convention center. “How did he get an entire nation to drink the kool-aid?”

“I thought being one of his lackies gave you insight into that.” 

“Don’t you dare for one second think I worked for that monster willingly. You know his office was next on my rotation.” She knew he was teasing but was in no mood. “He would send everything to do with the experimentations to his business partners. Anything political he shoved our way, keeping us staffers so busy that leaving the Capitol was completely out of the question.” 

“There’s no need to remind me of the hours he had you keep.” He kissed her hand. “But was accepting every modification he handed out a part of your rotation? Sometimes it’s hard to tell where my wife ends and the machine begins.”

“Okay soldier boy.” Her new eye allowed her to scan over Jackson even without an identification chip. For the first time, she could see what the army had done to him. “Remind me to thank Greg for letting me in on your secrets. And no more teasing, mister. You’re less human than I am.”

“What other new things did your genius brother give you to use against me?” He groaned.

“Haven’t played with it much, but I’m learning all sorts of new fun facts about you.” She smiled at her husband’s mild irritation. “So many classified files are filling my little head.” 

“That pretty little head of yours doesn’t need to be filled with my wrongdoings.”

“Nope, none of that. You were following orders and stayed alive.” She reminded him. “Did you pick out my eye?”

“Yes. I thought it matched better than the brass one they had shoved in.”

“You mean you didn’t like me looking like something from one of your video games?” Casey batted her eyes.

“I can hardly handle the everyday, Casey.” He laughed. “Super soldier spy Casey keeps me on my toes and makes it hard to sleep.” 

“Don’t you dare blame that on me.” She poked him in the nose. “That’s all on you, buddy.”

Casey grew quiet as they pulled into an overcrowded parking lot. Huge picketing signs with crudely altered pictures of dead babies with borg parts filled her view. Men and women, to support natural life and death, spewed out words of hate while carrying images of Christ. A child, passing out flyers, stood next to a man using a megaphone to shame those who had gone under the knife. 

“My love,” Jackson said, trying to distract her. “Did you see your birthday present?” He pointed to an oversized beach bag in the back of the cabin. 

“What did you get me?”

“I’m not going to tell you.” He said while taking two 380 Rugers from his glove box and attaching suppressors to the end of them.

Eagerly, she pulled a sweater from the top of the bag. “Oh, Jackson.” She squealed, seeing a red bow tied to the end of a new bullpup rifle. “What no scope?”

“Greg took care of that this morning.” He said, kissing her eye. “Ready?”

“Always.” She stuffed the sweater back on top of the gun. 

The polls were now closed and constituents were flooding the streets, trying to get as close as possible to the convention center. The front had been decorated with banners and balloons to welcome the winning senator. At this point in the game, today’s vote was merely a formality. There was no way for the other two to gain the necessary amount of delegates to stop McCormick from gaining the nomination. 

A woman with an anti-borg sign bumped into Casey. “Human lives are the only lives that matter.” She shouted.

Casey grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “Then take out those bots that are keeping your blood flowing.” She sneered.

Shocked, she clutched her sign and fled. 

“Was that necessary?” Jackson asked, holding her hand so she couldn’t assault anyone else.

“I can deal with hypocrites, just not heretical ones.” She tried to pull away but Jackson held on tight, guiding her to the side door. “Some of the loudest voices here are only alive because of nanotech.”

Opening the side door was a smartly dressed agent. “Credentials?”

While Jackson fumbled with his pockets, Casey did her best to keep eye contact. She was projecting new identities into the agent’s database.

“Steve,” Greg startled the agent, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me my sister was here?” He laughed, turning to Casey and Jackson, “these new guys. They don’t train them like they used to.”

“You’re late.” She hissed at Greg as he pulled them inside.

“You could have warned me, your coms work again, remember?” They rushed quickly to the stairwell. “I couldn’t get the hall cleared, but no one in your way has a family. Do what you need to and get out.”

They cleared the bottom of the stairwell and in moments. Jackson and Casey were walking in the hallway towards the production booth overlooking the stage. Before the agent guarding the door noticed them, Jackson dipped into a side hall.

“You can’t be up here.” Barked the agent. 

“But I was told there were extra bathrooms up here.” Casey said cluelessly. “The line downstairs was completely unruly.”

“I’m sure it was.” He said, grabbing Casey by the arm and escorted her away.

Jackson came from behind, shoving his Ruger into the base of the agent’s skull. With a click, the agent’s skull fragments fell onto Casey’s shoulder. Catching the body, they pulled it into the hall and Casey acquired the frequency the agents were using. Adjusting her com she listened to the chatter. 

“We have fifteen minutes until the antichrist takes the stage.” She relayed the message to Jackson, who was handing her a clean shirt.

“That gives us plenty of time to figure things out.”

“What’s to figure out?” Casey pulled the agent’s key card out of his pocket. “We’re in.”

The production booth was teeming and filled with twice as much noise as the convention floor below. The technical director was barking orders into his headset for McCormick to test his microphone.

“Can I help you?” The production assistant, holding a clipboard, moved Jackson and Casey aside as two men dressed in black moved quickly climbed ladders to their post at the spotlights. 

“We’re here to kill the Senator,” Jackson said coolly.

She looked down at her clipboard and to the clock glowing above the team. She pulled the technical director aside, and he eyed Casey as she took out her gun to assemble.

“We start to earn over time in twenty minutes. If you can wait until then, I don’t care what you do.” He moved a stack of papers off a table in front of where the window opened. “You’ll be out of the way over here.”

Jackson scratched his head as the technical director put Casey’s purse on the table. “Are you fucking with us?” 

While Jackson stared, perplexed, Casey had already scanned the crew. Every single one carried the 3K mutation. Casey saw that the camera operators on the floor below had their eyes altered and the audio engineer to her left had his ears modified. The spotlight operators had hawk vision that matched the scope Greg had equipped her with. They equipped everyone behind her with the equivalent of owl eyes to operate in the dark room. 

The production assistant handed Casey a headset. “He can count you in.” 

“No need.” She tapped the side of her head. “I’m already punched in.” 

Jackson hovered near the production switcher and accidentally pressed a few buttons, lighting them up.

“If you aren’t going to shoot anyone, could you step aside? We still have to go on air unless you’ve planned to kill him while we’re off.” The director said from behind the switcher, correcting Jackson’s mistake. The countdown above the monitors switched to one minute. “It’s about time someone did something about that hypocrite.” 

“As your official nominee,” He smiled smugly. “I promise that I’ll bring an end to the genetic modifications that have been plaguing our once successful nation. Why should one small group of people hold the power over the majority? Our win here tonight is just the beginning. I’ll bring America back to its roots as a great Christian nation. We’ll bring an end to-”

Casey tuned out the calls from the director and the busy control room turned into a steady hum. She shifted the butt of the gun into place and her eye clicked until she was reading his vitals. Though the senator spoke clearly, his heart rate was rising. McCormick wasn’t focusing on the teleprompter in front of him. Instead, he kept checking the crowd. An agent to his left gave him a signal and he nodded in approval. Sweat trickled down his face.

“Pig.” She exhaled, pulling the trigger.

The bullet escaped from the barrel, soared above the crowd, and pierced through posters. The audience didn’t have time to react before it exited straight through his right eye and out the back of his skull. 

“I don’t understand.” Casey said, breaking down the gun. 

Instead of collapsing to the stage, he staggered back, covering his face. A crowd of women shrieked as agents flanked the stage, pulling him off. People rushed closer, trying to capture pictures and videos of their senator who managed to stay upright with minimal blood loss. 

“An assassination attempt has brought chaos to the convention floor.” Shook the voice of the reporter covering the event. As more agents tried to create space between the stage and the growing crowd, they pushed Casey aside. 

“Thought you said you were a good shot.” The director barked at Casey before ordering the shoulder camera operator to follow the body. 

The control room door swung open with Greg hollering. “You two need to leave now. They are locking down the building.” 

The production assistant’s face shimmered from the hall light. “If he doesn’t die, you just proved that he’s God’s choice.”

“No, she didn’t.” The director pointed to the monitor above. Before the senator could cover his face, the camera one operator had caught the flesh being torn away and the bloody, glistening metal being exposed. “Breathing or not, she did kill him. Get this out to all the outlets as fast as you can.”

“What the hell kind of mods does he have?” Jackson clung to Casey’s hand as they exited the stairwell. Their look of shock and distress did not have to be faked. “I’ve never seen anything absorb a bullet like that before.” 

“None of this makes any sense. He only carries a fraction of the 3K mutation. He’d have to be a full blood for that amount of nanos to work.” She clung tightly to the bag. There were two agents scanning bags near the exit. “Why did Greg send us this way?”

“You worry too much.” Greg said, sneaking up behind them and clamping his hands on their shoulders. “As if I’d send my big sister to an early grave.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Greg pulled them through the crowded hall and into a more spacious, but still panicked, backstage. 

“Bettmann, you can’t have anyone back here.” A small woman with a clipboard snapped at him.

“Cool it Christina. We’ll be gone before you know it.” He gently moved her out of the way for Jackson and Casey to pass by. 

Christina locked eyes with Casey and began flipping through the giant stack of papers on her clipboard. Scanning her chip, Casey noted that the mother of three’s pulse was racing. Christina’s file read like every other fundy. In her teens she had botched body mods and family members died from nanobots rejections. She was part of a group of fundies that took credit for a bombing at a 3K treatment center last year. Christina faced incarceration for perpetuating the falsified undercover videos where 3K doctors were selling aborted fetuses for experimentation. 

Casey caught her hand before she could tap the call button. “If you’d like to see your kids grow up, you might want to think twice.”

“Don’t threaten me, non-human. I know you’re responsible for this one way or another.” She sneered.

“If I was he’d be dead.” Casey said, as she yanked the cable connecting Christina’s headphones from the call box.

“He’s not dead because God has chosen him.” She said, clutching her lanyard printed with Senator McCormick’s name and the quote Isaiah 11:6 with the misquote “The lion shall lie down with the lamb.” “He’ll make your kind pay for what it has done to our country.” 

Casey left the woman flustered in the chaos erupting around them. It wasn’t long before she was slamming the truck door shut. “They are certifiably insane.” 

“Hey, hey, hey! No need to take it out on the truck.” Jackson held onto her. “Focus on your pain here. It’s not your fault. How could you have known about the mods?”

“It doesn’t matter. He should be dead. I want him dead.” She sniffed. “I’m not stopping until his head rolls.”

“I’ll be by your side if you dive into hell or even if one day you decide to walk away.”

She sat back in the seat. “Is this your way of telling me to let go?”

“No,” he turned the key to start the engine. “Not until we get our daughter back.”

Except for the random passing of police sirens, the drive was disturbingly quiet. Every so often Jackson would look over to her, waiting for her to say something. But she suffered in silence, tightly holding his hand as she watched the perfectly manicured neighborhood pass by.

“It’s strange to be home.” Casey muttered, crawling into bed.

Jackson pulled her into him. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since you got your orders.”

Casey nuzzled closer into him, trying to mask her sniffles. “Have you heard anything about Caroline?” 

“No, Greg said there’s been no sight of her.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect her.” Casey said, trying to match his breathing pattern to calm herself. 

“Cass, you can’t beat yourself up over this anymore. Caroline was safe. She was with my sister. No one knew McCormick was twisted enough to take a child.”

“I should have known, though. He was far too invested in my pregnancy and paid even more attention to her after she was born.” Casey rolled away and picked up her phone. 

The night was turning into morning and soon she’d be walking back into her ordinary life, where people on the hill will be up in arms about tonight’s events. No one will ask where she had been, only where her daughter was. Casey wasn’t sure how she was going to handle questions without breaking down. Only some of the 3K carriers knew what McCormick had done, and they kept themselves hidden in fear of retaliation. 

“If you plan on doing something to him, you only have four months left.” He took her phone and turned off the bedside lamp. “Come back to me, Casey. We can’t do anymore tonight.”

Casey waited until Jackson’s snores were loud enough to shake the house before crawling out of bed. She found Greg illuminated from the glow of the computer screen. A bit of drool hung at the corner of his mouth. 

“Silly brother.” She giggled, lifting his jacket and tucking an actual blanket around him. 

Coordinates flicked across the screen. They were the locations of anyone who had passed under checkpoints, with over twenty percent of nanobots running through their system. Casey opened the terminal and reset the parameters to eighty-five percent. Only two sets of coordinates stayed on the screen. One was in Tuscany, Italy, and the other was just 400 miles outside the nation’s capital. 

“Casey?” Jackson flipped on the light to the office. “Woman. You need sleep. You aren’t a full cyborg yet.” 

“Come here.” She waved him over without looking away from the screen. “We found her.”

The small Cessna Citation sat on the tarmac fueled and waiting for their arrival. 

“Oh, look, they actually moved the plane this time.” Casey teased Greg. “Guess you didn’t leave the brakes on.” 

 Jackson pulled the truck through the gate and parked next to the tail of the plane.

“One time in sixteen years and you still hold it against me,” Greg grunted from the back.

Casey turned around wide eyed. “We were being shot at!”

“This is Virginia, not South America.” He reminded her. “Besides, they have the spare key just in case.” 

A perky, dark-haired, ramp hostess met them at the truck. “Any newspaper or ice for today’s trip?”

“Not today, Harper, just coffee, so this one doesn’t crash.” Greg attempted to cover his goofy grin by pulling out his duffle bag.

“It’s already on board, Mr. Bettmann.” She winked. “I did a special Starbucks run when I saw your tail number was being pulled out of the hangar.”

“This is why I’ll never leave you.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a fifty. “You know what to do with the truck.”

“What truck?” She took the keys from Jackson. “You own an Acura SUV and no one can tell me otherwise.”

She drove the truck through the gate and out of sight. Two-line service techs were removing the chalks while Jackson finished his walk around. 

“Hey co-pilot, are you ever going to get the nerve to ask her out?” Casey asked, tipping the third tech who had just finished loading their bags into the plane. “You could at least take her to dinner since you keep having her risk jail time.”

“Not the time or the place to remind your brother he has no game,” Jackson baited him, climbing into the cockpit. 

Greg ignored Jackson and, after a few quick exchanges with the control tower, they received clearance for takeoff. As they taxied down the runway, Casey poured herself a cup of coffee, and settled down into one of the plush seats. 

Lent, Short Stories

Day 13: Familiar and Foreboding

Wind sang through the cottage in the same old tune, only this time it was both familiar and foreboding. The waves seemed to whisper secretively, and the candles guttered on the sills. No one spoke for a long time, but eventually the silence was too much. 

“How long are we supposed to wait?” I hissed. 

We had been in the basement for three days. The world was supposed to end last week. Yet here we are. Waiting to no longer exist. However, the grumble rumbling in my stomach made it very clear that at least I wasn’t dead. 

Terrance lifted his head off the threadbare couch. “Have you tried the radio?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. He had been drunk for the last 72 hours. Unaware that the power went out as soon as the weather took a turn. The worst was that the comet was supposed to crash into the earth. Tidal waves would devour the coast, and volcanoes could erupt, covering the rest of the world in ash. The best-case scenario would be if the earth was knocked off course, and we would have a new normal. Only facemask wouldn’t do us any good. 

But since I was breathing and starving, I’m guessing the earth shifted. Or at least that is what I’m hoping that was. Because I don’t remember the last time I felt an earthquake in South Carolina. It was probably during my grandma’s life that the earth shook. 

I wonder if this is how the dinosaurs felt? Watching a ball of fire fall from the sky, trying to figure out if they would live or die. Maybe this killed the neanderthals, and the homosapiens were stronger. It’s strange how technology has advanced and yet history is still a mystery. Sad that even with all the technology at our fingertips, we aren’t much different from our prehistoric neighbors. 

“Lily!” Terrance called out to me. “Have you tried the radio?” 

I could shake the man. “Of course I have.” I bit at him. 

He didn’t believe me because no sooner did the words come out of my mouth was he was up and staggering to the bookshelf filled with the end of the world supplies. He cranked the handle and static filled the room. 

I folded my arms over my chest. “See, nothing.” 

Terrance ignored me and scanned the channels. The crackling was never ending. Until he flipped from FM to AM. That’s when the radio came to life. The first channel had people calling out in Spanish. The next was Portuguese, followed by Creole. It took a few more scans before he found someone talking in English. 

“Terrance stop!” I shouted at my husband. 

The radio called out “Mayday. Mayday.”

“What are we at sea?” He almost changed the channel before I hit him in the head with a pillow. “Okay, I’ll sit down.” 

I decided I had enough. If something out there was going to kill me, I’d rather not be dealing with my husband while hangry. He might survive better if I wasn’t locked in the same room as him. 

As I ascended the stairs, Terrance grabbed my hand. 

“Lily, don’t go. I can’t bear to lose you.” His voice shook. 

“T,” I smiled. “If I don’t find anything to eat, you won’t be losing me. But I’ll lose you.”

He gasped, drawing his hand back in pretend horror. “Be gone, my feisty mistress of doom.” 

I cautiously opened the door, not sure what to expect. Would the air be toxic? Would there be looters who made themselves at home thinking the house was empty? But I wasn’t ready with what I came face to face with.

Clear blue and purple skies filled my picture frame window in the front of the cabin. The glass was shattered and scattered about. But it didn’t look like looters. Birds sang louder than I have ever heard before. And a crystal rainbow reached across the horizon. Only it was beneath the clouds. Part of me wondered if it actually touched the ground. 

I didn’t find humans in my home. Just squirrels who built a nest in my living room. The end of the world has come and gone and we still lived. All my cabinets were filled with food and I opened my refrigerator and it was still cold. I emptied the fruit and took the meat from the freezer. 

“Terrance, my love,” I sang sweetly. “I need you.”

“Coming,” his voice rang from the basement. 

As I pulled food onto a tray to bring out to the grill I heard Terrance come into the kitchen. When I turned to face him stopped. Fluttering near his head was a small winged creature. 

“What? Do I have a droll on my face?” He asked, rubbing his scruffy beard. 

“I think there’s a fairy next to you.” I said quietly. 

Lent, Short Stories

Day 9: Unplanned Termination

I wasn’t prepared to read that word. A word I didn’t expect to see until I was at least in my mid twenties. PREGNANT. I came out of the bathroom with tears in my eyes, holding the most expensive thing I’d pee on.

“Chelsea.” Easton could barely say my name. “Chelsea, what does it say?”

I kept looking down at the one, single word, of doom. Pregnant, at 19. I was a freshman in college. I had my whole life ahead of me. I couldn’t have a child now.

“I don’t understand,” I said, handing him the stick. “We always use protection.”

His eyes widened at the single most life-changing word. “Well, there was that one time at your parents’ house, the condom broke.”

I don’t think my mood has ever changed so fast. “It what?” I seethed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of this right here.” He waved at me. “I knew you’d be angry.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Yes, I consented to sleeping with my idiot boyfriend but I most certainly did not consent to being impregnated by him. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” I tried not to yell. “If you just told me, I could have taken Plan B. There would be no baby.”

I shook, trying to contain my rage. How could he be so selfish? Everything I planned in my life was about to be robbed from me because he didn’t want me to be upset that a condom broke. Which, why would I be upset? Shit happens and there are pills for accidents like that.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” I guess my ice stare made him change his tune because he immediately followed up with. “I’ll support you in whatever you decide.”

But I knew what I was going to do. The moment he singled me out instead of saying we, I knew I couldn’t attach myself to this child wearing the mask of a grown man for the next 18 years of my life. My decision was going to go against every fiber of my being.

“Well, I can’t keep it.” I said after what felt like an eternity. I despised the relief in his eyes and hated him even more. “Guess we’ll just have to wait until morning to figure out the next steps.”

An hour later, he left the house in search of weed. I knew he had some in the house, but evidently it wasn’t enough to last him through the night. I didn’t smoke, only drank, and even then it wasn’t to get black out drunk. I liked the taste of beer. I tried justifying his actions by rationalizing that I dropped a bomb on him. You know what he left inside of me to destroy everything I worked so hard at? 

What was I doing with my life? How did I get wrapped up with such a loser? I pulled out my laptop and typed in the words planned parenthood. I never thought I would type those words in my wildest of nightmares. I had friends who had terminated unexpected pregnancies and saw what it did to their mental state. I thought I was being safe. Not just against pregnancy but diseases as well. How could he be so selfish?

The appointment was two days later. I made his dumb ass take me. I was in no mindset to drive. I probably would have driven off a bridge then to the place to kill my unwanted child. There were people protesting outside calling every woman who walked in a baby killer. Strange, they didn’t throw hate at the men. Apparently, they forgot it takes two to make a baby. 

Receptionist room was friendly. Planned Parenthood did more than just terminate unwanted pregnancies. There were flyers about how to get birth control and how to get help on getting your yearly exams. But it didn’t help my mindset. When I filled out the paperwork for what I needed, I waited about 15 minutes before being ushered into a doctor’s office.

The OBGYN smiled at me and asked what brought me there today. I explained what happened to her and, apparently, hearing the truth robbed my boyfriend of his ability to talk. She handed us pamphlets about my options. But she also gave me pamphlets about adoption or how to raise the child at a young age. The doctor kept asking me if I was sure this was my decision. Almost as if she was trying to guide me to keep the child. After I told her, I was sure that this was my decision. They brought me into a room to have an ultrasound to confirm my pregnancy.

I was terrified that seeing the baby would make me change my mind. The woman running the machine smiled at me, almost heartbroken. But what came on the screen was something that I didn’t expect. I didn’t look like a baby. It just looked like a blob of jelly. I thought to myself that if I had wanted this baby, I would be thrilled to see that blob on the screen. However, this was my lifeline. It wasn’t a baby yet. I could do this.

We scheduled the appointment for the following Friday. They only offered terminations on Fridays. The rest of the time, the office was a place for women’s health. 

I looked at my calendar on my phone. March 17th would be the luckiest unlucky day for me the rest of my life. This was my one get out of jail free card. Rather than getting drunk with friends on my first St. Patrick’s Day in college, I’ll be purging my body in different ways.

When I got back to my dorm, I called my mom. It was a tough decision, but I needed money. I figured it was better to ask for money now than for the next 18 years. The conversation did not go as I expected. She asked if I was sure and then said she would transfer me the money. However, she wanted me to see our doctor just so I would have a follow up appointment set up. 

I went to my OBGYN, who I have known since I was 15. She talked to me about what I was about to endure and asked if I wanted to be on birth control. I told her yes; I don’t want to worry about this again. I had been on birth control once before and I didn’t handle it well. She knew this and said we would try to find what would work best for my body. Before I left, she hugged me. When I walked out of her office, I felt attacked by all the pictures that lined her hall. They were of smiling babies she had delivered. 

That Friday came around. I should have been wearing green and getting ready to party with my friends. Instead, I was back in the office listening to men and women outside shout words of hate at me and the four other girls in the waiting room. I couldn’t call us women. I knew one other girl who was there. She was only six months older than me. We all looked scared, as if we would rather be with our moms than the men sitting next to us. 

When my name was called, my boyfriend tried to come with me. The nurse told him he wasn’t needed and he could either wait in the lobby or in his vehicle. I think he picked his truck, but I don’t remember. Things went dark and at some point, I talked to an anesthesiologist. I told him I throw up after waking up. He assured me it was just twilight sleep and I will be fine. Eventually, I changed into a gown.

The nurse  wheeled me into the producer room. The table looked like a regular OBGYN chair in the middle of a very empty room. There were lights above and beeping machines around the chair. The thing that caught my breath was the drain below the stirrups. 

I can do this.  I thought as they guided me into the chair. 

The anesthesiologist returned and told me to count back from ten. I think I made it to eight. 

Then there was true darkness. 

Until a loud beeping. My eyes fluttered open, and there was a doctor wearing scrubs between my legs. I couldn’t understand what the staff was saying, but I looked down. Blood circled the drain. The anesthesiologist was at my side holding my hand. He told me, “Just a little longer, go back to sleep.”

I was awake again. Crying in a wheelchair headed to my boyfriend’s car. I held my stomach, whimpering. “I feel like something is missing. I’m empty.” 

The nurse patted my head and the idiot responsible for the mess was entirely useless. I wanted my mom. I told him that over and over again. But I don’t remember calling her. I don’t remember the drive home, or getting into bed at his apartment. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take me there and not to my dorm. 

I slept for what seemed like forever. It was daylight when we arrived and when I woke, it was nearly nine at night. But I didn’t wake on my own. My body was forcing something out. I went to the bathroom and blood filled the toilet and I panicked. I found the emergency nurse’s number and called. She talked me off a cliff and explained it was just blood clots passing and the surge of pain is the equivalent of going into labor. My body didn’t understand what was happening other than the need to expel what was left inside. She asked if I had the painkillers they gave me and I said “yes.”

“Good,” she sighed. “Now take them and go back to sleep. This will be over soon and it will just feel like a bad dream.” 

I walked out of the room and into the small kitchen, looking for water. Easton sat on the couch, holding his bong in his hand high as a kite. 

“How are you?” he finally asked. 

I shoved two painkillers in my mouth. I was only supposed to take one every eight hours. “Awful, but I’ll survive.”

He looked like a child that just got shamed for drawing on his parents’ walls. “Do you care if I go out with my friends, if you are just going to be sleeping?”

Just going to be sleeping? Sleeping? What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Yes, I made the right decision. I forced a smile because I just wanted him as far away from me as possible. “Do whatever you want.” and I went back to bed.

That summer, a friend of mine and I made a journey to a place called Cassadaga, Florida. It’s a spiritual town, a psychic community. Easton and I had broken up, and I just needed something fun to wash away the broken feeling I had living inside of me. 

We went to one psychic, who the community considered the best, and most sought after. My friend and her mother came out of their sessions in tears. They both spoke about how he could communicate with their dead cousin and he allowed them to get closer. I was a skeptic, to be sure. Nothing the man said set my soul on fire, he even told me that I was going to have two and half children. I just laughed. How can someone have two and half children? Just as I was about to walk out of the room, he grabbed my wrist. 

“Wait,” his dark eyes glassed over. “Your son wants to tell you he understands why you did what you did. He will wait for you and will come when the time is right.”

A chill cut through my body as the man’s eyes returned to dark brown. “I hope that was the peace you were looking for.” He said as I left. 

Lent, Short Stories

Day 2: The Dark Watcher

The rain didn’t bother her, even as it dripped in her eyes and soaked her shoes. She barely felt it. All that mattered was watching the blood run from the throat of the Black Annis. The creature wore a dress made of the flesh of the fourteen children she had stolen from the small town. In an attempt to protect the youngest, the authorities had enacted a curfew. But they didn’t know that the blue hag hunted day or night, luring children into the oak branches with the promises of sweets. Every morning, the local news would broadcast the face of another missing child.

Sarah had to wash away the evidence before Chris came home. He was none the wiser to what his stay at home wife did throughout the day. He thought she used her free time to maintain the home and run errands without a child on her hip. However, that was not the case. The fiery little redhead was more than just a mother. Something her husband would know if he could see past her looks. Just like he would notice how their son looked nothing like him. But Sarah checked all the boxes he needed to present the perfect family when he had to show up at functions. And he was too busy with mistresses for Sarah to care. She had her freedom to hunt the monsters that plagued the world.

“Fuck,” Sarah hissed, as she stitched the gash the Black Annis left in her calf. The iron talons were hard to miss and the first thing Sarah removed from the beast.

“Mommy,” a little voice whispered at the door. 

Noah tapped on the door. It was Chris’ turn to pick him up from aftercare, which meant that all her hunting had to be done before five. 

“One second sweety.” Sarah turned off the water to the shower, watching the last bit of evidence circle the drain. 

Gently, she pulled a pair of cozy sweatpants over the gash and a hoodie over her head. Shaking away the hunter, Sarah forced herself to smile. It was time to be the caring parent and hear all about the adventures Noah had been a part of. He was the only true joy she held onto. Everything else was a facade.

“Baby!” Sarah squealed, wrapping her arms around her son. “How was your day?” She asked, covering his face with kisses.

Noah skillfully dodged her kisses. “I’m not a baby anymore!” He said through giggles. “I’m 5 and 1/2.”

Sarah held him at arm’s distance, looking him over. “You’re right, you’re right. You’re most definitely not a baby anymore. My little elf, that’s what you are.”

“What? No, there’s no such thing as elves,” said Noah, shaking his head. 

Sarah frowned. “Who told you that?”

“Tommy,” Noah said matter-of-factly. “He said that all of that stuff is just make believe.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe that in kindergarten, Noah was already dealing with this kind of nonsense. Creatures revealed themselves to the world less than a decade ago, yet there were still skeptics. 

They probably have to be eaten by one to believe. Sarah thought. 

Sarah knelt down to be closer to Noah’s size. “Baby, there are creatures out there. Good ones and bad ones, just like people.”

Noah nodded slowly. “You mean like the one who is taking all the little kids?” 

“Yes, just like that monster.” Kneeling was killing Sarah’s calf, but she would not let a bit of pain stop her from comforting Noah. “But I don’t think sh— it will be a problem anymore.”

Noah gasped. “Did the police get him?”

“They sure did, baby.” Sarah said with a sigh. “What did daddy pick up for dinner?”

Noah fidgeted with his shirt. “He said we couldn’t stop because the monster would eat me.”

Heat spread across Sarah’s cheeks. What was Chris thinking telling their son that a monster would eat him? That man never woke up to Noah screaming from his night terrors. Sarah ruffled his hair. 

“Ignore daddy. Nothing is going to eat you.” She smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You’re too strong for that.”

They left Sarah’s bedroom and headed for the kitchen. It was a stunning cottage core kitchen, straight out of Sarah’s Pinterest board. Chris had it done for her one summer while Noah and her were visiting Chris’ family. He was always too busy to travel. Or that’s at least what he told his overbearing father and demeaning mother. Sometimes Sarah understood why her husband was cold as ice. However, he was a grown adult. He couldn’t blame everything on his family. He made the choices and aging into them was that choice. 

Planting a weak kiss on her cheek, Chris eyed Sarah’s attire. “With all your shopping trips, I would assume you owned more than hoodies and sweats.”

Sarah patted his arm. “Well, if you spent more than 15 minutes at home, you’d know that I do.” She kept her voice low so Noah wouldn’t hear. “Maybe one of your childless whores would be more comfortable in negligees.” 

Chris’ eyes went wide as Sarah scooped up their son. Noah’s brown eyes bore into Chris’ blue ones. Sarah had explained her father had brown eyes. It was hard to dispute when she had green eyes and both her parents were dead. Chris had hoped that Noah would have his same blonde hair as him, but the child had neither his light locks nor Sarah’s fire red ones. His hair was dark as night. Behind Sarah’s back, Chris had taken Noah in for a paternity test. Or so he thought. The lab sent the results through the mail. Because of someone’s preference for business trips over family time, Sarah had enough time to edit the results and reseal the envelope. 

“Of course, my dear,” He smiled at Noah. “What delicious meal have you prepared for us tonight.” 

They seamlessly transitioned into the roles of parents and friends. Because before Noah, Sarah truly loved her husband. It wasn’t until she was pregnant did his attention drift from his wife, to his secretary, to their accountant, and eventually the nanny. Some days, she longed for the life they had before their child. Traveling the world and going on grand adventures. But knowing what she knows now. There is not a doubt in Sarah’s mind that Chris had been faithful even then. A drunken night or two as they cleaned up the kitchen, Sarah got up the courage to ask Chris why he even stayed.  

“Because divorce looks bad for a politician that runs on family matters.” He shrugged. “That and I should have listened to my parents when they wanted me to sign a prenup.” 

Sarah had expected his words to have wounded her. However, after years of romantic neglect, they had already turned into roommates. She didn’t know where Noah came from, but she knew he wasn’t Chris’. Years of infertility had worn on them as a couple. Despite the doctors’ explicit reassurance that the problem was his, he still blamed her. The fights pushed Sarah into hunting. She felt helpless arguing with him. Hearing him rip her a part about being a failure as a woman. To which she constantly reminded him that none of his whores have become pregnant either. 

One night while Sarah was out hunting for things that went bump in the night, until something bumped her on the head, knocking her unconscious. She woke up in the middle of the woods with hundreds of missed calls from Chris. Angry voicemails about how she can’t leave him. As she deleted the last hateful, teary message, the sky lit up blue and green. She had never seen dancing lights before. But somehow she knew her life was about to change.

“I picked up a rotisserie chicken, your favorite, the honey barbecue and all the fixings.” Sarah pulled the still warm mac and cheese and chicken from the oven. After setting it on the island, she grabbed the salad from the fridge. “I figured you’d forget our anniversary.”

They sat down for dinner. Never once a moment of silence as Noah regaled them with all the gossip of his kindergarten class. Jeffery stole Crissy’s french fries at lunch and she launched her chicken nuggets at him in retaliation. Bradley pushed Matt off the swing and Matt chased him around the playground. They both went on red for being mean. Noah’s chatter made it easy to overlook the chaos of their life. That was until a grinding sound came from the kitchen. 

Sarah stiffened. “Chris darling,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Could you take Noah up for his bath?”

Chris looked down at Sarah’s quivering hand. “Uh, sure.”

Without question, he took his protesting son by the hand leading him upstairs. Silently, Sarah thanked whoever watched them for Chris not fighting her. Clearing the dishes from the table, Sarah followed the noise. The window screen over the sink had been shredded to pieces.  Sarah snuck into the pantry, grabbing the machete she kept hidden near the broom and Swiffer. A place Chris would never venture to. According to him, the kitchen was meant for women. 

With the bath running above, Sarah crept out the kitchen door and into the backyard. Whatever diced the window screen had triggered the flood light making it difficult to see into the night. The grinding was louder now that she was outside. Sarah couldn’t believe that the Black Annis wasn’t dead. She had freed it from its hands and head before fleeing the scene. How could it be back? 

The creature gave away location, wrapping itself in a swing. Its scream pierced through the night. Sarah ran towards the creature, careful not to be cut by its iron talons again, lopping off its right arm. Blood trickled onto the ground. Sarah noticed a scar where its head had been reattached. 

“Why won’t you stay dead?” grunted Sarah, hacking at the blue creature’s neck. 

Blood pooled beneath the swing as yellow eyes raged in the flickering flood light. Its teeth, still grinding, craving Noah’s flesh.

“Good attempt, human,” a smooth voice called from the dark. “But you need silver to kill her.”

Sarah’s skin prickled. She had heard the voice before. The Dark Watcher was across the backyard, slamming a sword into the Black Annis. Its body turned dusty. Sarah stood her ground as he approached her. 

The hood of his cloak fell, exposing his long raven hair. His hand was cool to the touch, lingering on her chin. “I see you’re raising my son well.”

Sarah smacked his hand away with the machete. “So you’re the creature that raped me?”

The Dark Watcher recoiled at her accusations. “I most certainly did not. You spent nearly a year with me. ”

“How is that even possible?” Sarah demanded, “I was only gone for a few hours. What did you do? Steal my memories?” 

“After you destroyed the La Ciguapa, you touched the talisman she wore around her neck. That sent you into my realm. I came across you unconscious and alone in Spieviesta.” The Dark Watcher looked towards her house. A shadow watched from Sarah’s bedroom window.

Sarah’s head was spinning as a memory of a small brook with purple and pink bioluminescences filled her mind. “What the hell is Spieviesta?” 

“It’s the Forest of Spirits. It holds the souls of the dead beasts. The talisman allowed you to cross.” The Dark Watcher told her, gently pushing the machete away. “Your soul was so entwined that I thought you belonged to our side. But as you healed, I saw you were human. You begged me not to return to your world. You were so broken I gave in.”

His hand caressed her cheek. Against all instinct to run, Sarah leaned in. A wave of calm came over her. 

The Dark Watcher pulled her in close. “But when you became pregnant, I had to let you go. Spieviesta is no place for the living, let alone a child. So I watched from the shadows. You, my dear, are a force.”

 She wanted to remember, but fractured memories were all that came. Giant oaks with cabins built in their limbs. Dances around massive bonfires with fairies illuminating the night. Never once did Sarah see the sun, but she didn’t crave its heat. Safety existed in that place. A safety she craved at home but never found. 

The slamming of Sarah’s back door interrupted them. Chris charged towards them. The Dark Watcher shielded Sarah behind him.

“A White Lighter is raising my son?” The Dark Watcher seethed.

“A what?” Sarah peeked around the Dark Watcher’s broad shoulders. Chris’s aura was radiating a brilliant blue, bordering on white. “What the hell is a White Lighter?”

“Sarah, get away from him.” Chris demanded. 

Before Chris could come any closer, the Dark Watcher slammed his walking stick onto the cement patio. The ground cracked open, leaving a revive between them. 

“She belongs to me, Watcher.” Chris called, pacing along the opening as flames flicked the edges.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” shouted Sarah.

She was flush against the Dark Watcher’s back. His level breathing kept her calm. Sarah had seen Chris’ drunken rages before. But this was different. His eyes burned red. The longer she stayed separated from him, the more his arms twitched. He cracked his neck a few times, rolling his shoulders. Sarah gripped the machete’s handle, preparing for a fight.

The Dark Watcher’s free hand wrapped around him, clutching her waist. “A White Lighter, a being that demands loyalty for protection. Many believe that a White Lighter acts as a guardian angel. However, they only protect the most subservient of their followers. And you, my dear, are nothing of the sort.” 

“If you come back to me, I can wash away the memories, just like last time.” Chris tried to cross the ravine, but the flames leapt at him. “Let him take the boy and the pain will be gone. You will be happy again. We can be happy again.”

Sarah looked back at the pile of dust behind her. “I needed silver to kill the Black Annis. What do I need to do to be rid of him?” 

The Dark Watcher’s smile reached his coal dark eyes. “You just need to release him from your vows.”

“A divorce?” Sarah almost leapt over the flames herself. “You knew this. No wonder why you would never divorce me. You wanted me trapped. To control and punish because I didn’t fit your perfect mold.” 

“It doesn’t have to be as formal as your legal system makes it out,” The Dark Watcher told her. “You just have to recant your vows.”

Chris panicked. His aura was a deep red that didn’t match his soothing voice. “Sarah, there is no need for this. Come home and we can forget everything. Noah needs you. I need you. This is just a phase baby. One we can overcome together. We’ve done it before, we can do it again. Let me take away your pain.” 

Sarah’s brain tingled. She knew this feeling. One that she had whenever she took her daily pill. However, Chris was the one who kept her calm, not her pill. He stole away her emotions and freedom. No wonder when he was gone did she become a new person. One where she felt herself. One where she was free. 

“No,” she uttered. “I will not give in to you again.”

Sarah came toe to toe with the edge of the fire. Her green eyes boring into his blue ones. A wind from below pushed him back and made her fiery red locks dance like the flames. 

“Chris O’Mally I release you. I release you of our wedding vows. I release you of the promises you have not not fulfilled. You have not loved me through sickness and health. You have multiplied, harmed me, and most certainly have not forsaken all others.”

A deep laugh bellowed across the ravine. “That is rich coming from you, since I have been raising a Dark Watchers’ offspring.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “One time, and you stole from me. When I finally found happiness and was free of you. You stole my freedom again. Chris O’Mally all bonds with me are broken.” 

Sarah had expected lightning to flash through the sky or a vicious wind to rip through the air. Instead, she heard a soft click. Looking down to the broken patio, she saw her wedding band broken in half and a chain reaching across the ravine attached to the band Chris had worn.

Short Stories

Solar Storm

Disaster struck Earth at the beginning of winter. Satiates plummeted, eliminating nearly all forms of communication. The conspiracy theorists blamed aliens or a massive explosion from the sun, and the uncreative blamed Russia and China. However, the tech failures also affected everyone.

The big cities failed first. Many didn’t heed the evacuation warning. Instead, their inhabitants raided the stores. Stealing high-priced electronics, designer clothes, and other ridiculous items. They believed they would restore the power in a few weeks. There was no way the world could run without the internet or cell phones. Once the weeks passed, the looters attacked the few individuals who had snagged nonperishable foods. Eventually, word from the cities went dark. The government closed the borders, leaving them to die in the dead of winter.

I wanted to say I was shocked. But a year before, an alphabet soup agency approached me. It was the agency that didn’t broadcast its existence with a website, but they definitely had the credentials and knew all about me. The agent explained how the government was gathering instructors, high school students, and professionals who knew how to work with their hands. They needed out-of-the-box thinkers who solved problems on the go.

I laughed at the agent standing on my patio. “Sir, I teach TV production. Not sure what you want us to do if the world ends.”

He fidgeted with his suit. Wherever he was from wasn’t as hot and humid as South Florida. “Ma’am, you’re old enough to remember using technology without computers.”

“Okay, that’s rude. I am not that old.” I interrupted him.

“9th grade, your teacher showed you how to edit tape to tape.” He brought out his phone and showed me a picture of my now co-teacher, W.

“And you expect me to remember something that I learned for a week twenty years ago?” I was laughing harder. “Since you know so much about me, you probably know. I’m running off of coffee, little sleep, and can’t remember what I ate for dinner less than 10 hours ago.”

Irritation was clearly written etched into his brow. “Ma’am, you can relearn this skill. You can provide a team of bright minds ready for the challenge. Most of your students are dual-enrolled in biology, construction, ROTC, and automotive. Your students are more qualified to handle a national threat than most.”

“Fucking spooks,” I groaned. “Dude, they are high school students. Are we done with this nonsense? I have a 45-minute drive to work. I now have to do in twenty.”

He stepped out of the way. “We’ve already contacted your principal about the matter. He seemed keen to be a part of the program.”

“Cool, I hope you brought me coffee,” I said, locking the door to my house. “And what about the other teachers? To be honest, they’d be more useful than me.”

He held my car door open. “I have read them into the project. You were our last stop.”

I stood between my car and the sweaty man. ” Look, I spent years trying to work for one of your agencies, and now I’m being ‘read into’ a project. I should tell you to fuck off, but I’m too damn curious.”

“It’s in your blood, ma’am.”

“Then, can I make a request?” I asked as he was about to shut my door.

His jaw clenched. “You’re not really in the position to make them.”

“If you want to use my students for your stupid project. That I’m fairly certain is far more necessary than you’re letting on,” I smiled sweetly at him. “I want you to grab two of my previous students, Dj and Bh.”

“Is that all?” He asked, shutting my door. I nodded quickly, and he walked to his car at the end of the drive.

“What the fuck ever,” I muttered to myself, turning on the radio, only to hear what I was trying to avoid. Traffic on the turnpike, accidents on the local roads, and my commute had just hit over an hour.

Four blacked-out SUVs were parked directly up front when I pulled onto campus. So it seemed the Spook wasn’t lying. I did not know what the government thought we could offer them. We’re a strange school in the country filled with rich kids and those whose parents work their asses off to ensure none stand out. The student body liked to pretend to be country or hood, even though most of their houses cost a million dollars or more.

I signed in at the front office. Nobody joked or made a comment about being a half-hour late.

The front desk receptionist smiled and said, “Mr. W has your students. He’s waiting for you.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous,” I sighed.

“Pretty sure you’re going to be super busy. He had a handcart filled with boxes and all these weird things. I think I saw a dial-up modem hanging out of a box.” She called after me.

Jesus Christ, I thought. Tape-to-tape editing and dial-up internet. What kind of nightmare did I step into? Who did I piss off to be tortured like this?

The campus was oddly quiet. Students weren’t wandering around pretending to go to the bathroom, meeting up with each other for clandestine meetings, or smoking. I saw a few adults in black power suits with earpieces talking to each other across the courtyard. It was strange; I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to being at a high school again, but here I was.

I opened my co-teacher’s door, and instead of greeting all my students, the classroom was empty. I made my way into the control room. The handcart of Doom was empty, and so was the control room. Through the soundproof glass, I could see them all staring at the ancient technology. One student held up a mini DV tape, not understanding how to insert it. Then again, I had just spent the last three years pulling SD cards out because he still couldn’t figure out how to insert that correctly. These spooks were in for a rude awakening if they thought high school students would be their saving grace.

Then the sound came. A crackling followed by a few beeps and then finally a very long tone. It was a thing of nightmares. A sound I thought I would never have to hear again unless it was in somebody’s reel making fun of how old millennials were. Dial-up internet attached to a computer I didn’t even know could turn on.

“Mrs. J.” One of my students burst in from the studio. “Mr. W said these were the same computers you worked on when he had you as a student. How did you guys get any work done? The computer takes 15 minutes to turn on.”

I smiled. “Patience, something you don’t have.”

In the studio, I came face to face with five cameras. I had asked my previous IT person at the middle school I had just left to e-waste them. He had never done it, which was apparently a good thing. Then I saw a beast of a machine hooked up to an old TV.

“Do you remember this?” Mr. W asked.

“You know I don’t.” I waved him over. “Did you apply for some grant or something that was just meant to torture me while giving funding to a program? Is this payback for me being the moody teenager in high school?”

He shook his head. “No, I thought you did. The government is kind of your specialty.”

“I gave up on those guys long ago. Once I figured out what, I didn’t have the grades to be considered a legacy, and apparently, my search history was a little too risky for their taste. I thought being a bloodthirsty writer would be something that would interest them.”

Our students were playing with the technology, trying to figure out how to attach the cameras to the computers. They waited for programs to open, sitting in earnest, watching how tapes were fed to one another. I thought our little ADHD monsters would be bored, but it entranced them. However, I was fighting the urge to backhand the next one, who called me an elder millennial. They weren’t wrong. It was just disrespectful to hear it over and over again.

Before the rang, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. “Tv, biotech, medical, automotive, construction, and JROTC students. Please make your way to the auditorium. All other students, please head to your normal class.”

There was a collective groan from the students. A few cheered because they had not studied for the test they would be missing. But my co-teacher and I looked at each other. Things were going to get interesting.

The spook that blocked my door stood center stage behind the podium. Our principal stood next to him, just as thrilled as the teachers about the assembly. With no authority taking control, the students chatted among each other, only growing louder.

“Hawks,” Principal H spoke clearly into the microphone. “Please give your undivided attention to our guest, Special Agent K.”

“Like Men in Black?” I giggled to myself. I did it at the wrong time because the entire auditorium had gone silent. Agent K shook his head at me while taking his position at the microphone.

“Thank you very much for having me here, Principal H.” The principal didn’t smile or look even halfway enthused about this intrusion. “Your school was one of ten selected for a very special pilot program. We are challenging all the academy students to perform their normal academic test with limited technology.”

The entire student body was in an uproar. Shouts about what they were supposed to do without laptops or cell phones. How were they supposed to compete with everyone entering college without having the same experiences? More than once, I heard someone say that they could not function without being able to Google an answer. This was all cruel and unusual punishment.

Special Agent K tried to regain control of the student body. It took the principal stepping forward and lashing out with unveiled threats about how if they did not participate, they could not go to homecoming or any sports activities and would lose their parking spot. All the teachers laughed. This man in a suit may intimidate the adults; however, he had nothing to threaten these teenagers with. The United States government was in for a real treat.

Six months passed, and all the students had acclimated to their limited technology. We were coming up to winter break, and a few told me how much they enjoyed not being pressured to study for the certification exams. I lost count of how many of them enjoyed the challenge of learning how to create transitions with their film.

“Mrs. J,” a tiny goth girl approached me. “This entire experiment is ridiculous. I don’t know what to do without a computer. I can’t figure out how to make things look good. Everything I do is absolute garbage.”

“Well, Mb, your projects aren’t garbage. You might not be the best editor. You have been able to pick up cameras and work just the same as you always have. And something else that you haven’t thought about is how well you have taken control. You’ve been able to delegate tasks and solve problems that your other classmates cannot. Just because you don’t have a laptop in your face doesn’t mean you aren’t excelling. I think that was the point of the experiment.”

She rolled her eyes at the praise. “Why do they care if we can operate without technology? It’s not like it’s going anywhere. They’ll probably just start embedding chips into our heads, and we won’t even have a piece of technology in front of us. It’ll be inside of us.”

“I’d rather not think about becoming a cyborg, but thank you for the post-apocalyptic depression trip. Are you done taking up my oxygen, or do you need help with something?”

“No, I’m good.” Mb smiled. “I feel better when I bitch. I mean, complain to you.”

“Well, I’m always here to be a soundboard if you need me.” I looked at the clock, and the bell was about to ring. ” All right, monsters, pack up your things. It is time for you all to go to your next class and torture another adult.”

Students picked up their backpacks, dropping pens and pencils in their zipper pouches. Others unlocked the cell phone jail, pulled out their phones, and checked to see who sent the messages while they were busy in class being sequestered from technology. But more and more, my students would forget that their phones were in jail and eventually have to come back to my class and pick them back up before they left for the day.

When we left for Christmas break, everybody had expected to return. But just like COVID, the world came to a stop. Sudden bursts of energy could be seen across the sky on Christmas Day. “The end is here,” the occultists screamed in the streets. “The end is here! Repent, and your soul will be saved.” Teslas weren’t driving. In fact, any car that was made after the 1980s was dead on the road. Planes fell from the skies, and trains simply stopped. Telephone lines were jammed. Cell service was nonexistent, leaving only those with landlines with corded phones to communicate. They dropped news newspapers off in front of every home two days after the event. That was the only way that information was being spread. I’m not entirely sure how they got the information; probably radios and other forms of “ancient technology.”

Then, right before New Year’s Eve, Agent K showed up at my door.

“It’s time to get to work, Mrs. J.” He didn’t wait for me before he headed back to a heavily armored truck that looked straight out of World War II, only with modern upgrades.

I rolled my eyes. “You asshat,” I shouted. “You knew this was coming. What the fuck is wrong with all of you up in Washington?”

“That is why we had contingency plans, ma’am.” He said, holding the door open for me.

I climbed into the back of the truck and was met with the grumpiest group of high school students. The only thing positive about this whole event was it happened in December, and while it may not have been the coldest month for Florida, it sure as hell wasn’t the hottest.

“Mrs. J,” whined a female student with auburn hair. “Is this why they made us do all the stupid work?”

I shook my head. I hadn’t had coffee yet, and I didn’t have an answer for her or the other twenty-something teens searching for answers. I scanned the crowd, looking for my co-teacher. But he was nowhere to be found. The windows were blacked out. Students complained it wasn’t necessary or fair for them not to know where we were going. A few mutter things about how the government didn’t have the right to force them to do anything.

“The government can do what it wants.” snapped Cs, a blonde male whose twin sat next to him.

Ms, the class clam of the two, had his face plastered against the window. “Just like they made the satellites fall from the sky, and they control the weather.”

After what felt like an eternity, we pulled up to a gate. I only knew this because we stopped, and I could hear it being moved over the rumbling of the diesel engine. Everyone got quiet as we crossed over the track, and the gate closed.

“Are they going to kill us?” asked a nervous brunette.

“No, Pt, I don’t think they would have wasted all that time training you just to murder us.” I shrugged. “Then again, this is the government, so who knows?”

The Auburn student sitting next to Pt squealed. “That’s not funny!”

“You’re right, but we know nothing, so let’s not waste our time trying to think what if.” The truck rolled to a stop, and heavy boots were marching up to the back of the truck. “Ag, I think you’re about to get our answer.”

The doors opened, and I knew exactly where I was. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

The government had transported me and my students to the news station I left for teaching. Standing in front of the glass door were my former boss C and my co-teacher, W. They had worked together during their news career before W took a different direction.

“Not happening,” I muttered, sitting back down.

“If she’s not going, I’m not going,” Ag said, folding her arms across her chest and joining me. Pt nodded and returned to her seat as well.

Agent K walked up to C and W and shook hands. All three men must have been on it from the beginning. I shouldn’t be mad. I knew the station still had ancient tech. They never removed any equipment; many employees still knew how to work with it. I wasn’t one of them, but I guess I was good at wrangling cats.

“Nope, let’s go, ladies. They have coffee here.” I jumped out of the truck and right passed the three conspirators.

I said hi to a few of my former co-workers and ignored those I didn’t know. I walked by my old desk, stole back my blanket, and robbed CD of her coffee cup. If she wasn’t here yet, I knew she would be soon after I poured a cup of dark, caffeine-fueled goodness. I re-entered the newsroom, waiting for the station meeting. JB was still in charge, and I saw him sitting in his office, giving himself the pep talk.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming in to help during this unprecedented time,” he said once all the staff and students gathered.

“We didn’t have a choice,” called out Ms.

I did my best not to snicker, but these people highly underestimated the teens.

“All of you have been trained on the technology to survive the sun blast. While some of you have been working in this field for years, others of you are very green. We will pair up students and professionals together. Those who show they can handle the responsibility will be in the field while the rest of you will work in-house. All jobs are important. They have assigned our station to broadcast the news covering the entire southeast. That means from Key West until wherever singles reach. I believe the last test reached North Carolina, though the single was weak.”

“It was twenty minutes down the road. How is this possible?” I asked WW, a director friend I used to work with.

“I don’t know, but sat trucks are still feeding things in.” He pointed to the least favorite thing I trained him on. “Guess what you get to do?”

“You suck.” I groaned.

Ag and Pt stood next to me. They were equally unamused as I was about the situation we were in. However, I knew these girls would work their asses off with whatever task I handed them. Even though they were responsible enough to go out in the field, I wanted them where I could watch them. I had read about those who were attacking reporters and military officials. I knew the girls’ moms; they scared me more than any spook.

“Mrs. J, nice to see you back,” was the sly remark from C, my former boss. “You ready to pick up that morning shift again?”

“I pick my team, and you guys leave me alone. You know I’m fine.” I smiled at him.

He nodded. “I figured. That’s why I asked for you students specifically.”

“Who is going to watch this? None of the TVs are working?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

“Remember rabbit ears and those brown box TVs?” He asked. “The government has been stockpiling them since the scientists predicted the sun bursts were coming sooner rather than later.”

“You know, you could have called. Give me a heads-up. I could have brought my shit because, let me guess, we’re working hurricane hours, aren’t we?” He just nodded. “So, high school students? You think this was the best option?”

“Why not? College kids are too arrogant, and you know the field is short-staffed. Besides, W has a reputation for what students come out of his program.” C looked over at JB talking with W and was waved over. “Good luck, J. You better wrangle your kids.”

“I hate you,” I hissed under my breath before putting on my happy face.

It took about twenty minutes for me to pick which students would work under me. Most were strong editors, a few were decent at directing, and we could train the rest on how to use a camera. But the thing that I knew all of them could do well was work under pressure. They didn’t break when things went wrong. They may whine, bitch, and moan, but they would complete the task. It wasn’t easy to convince them they needed to go to bed before ten pm so they would be rested for the 2:30 am wake-up call. Even though it was a battle, I knew this group would be the best to work at such ungodly hours.

An old bell alarm rang at 2:15. Even I, the queen of staying asleep after setting fifteen alarms, could sleep through that noise. My team shuffled past the night crew, replacing the first set of zombies. None of the high schoolers looked ready to function.

“Mrs. J,” Ag and Pt whined when I saw them. “There’s no Celsius. They only have coffee.”

“There hasn’t been Celsius for months. Did your moms stockpile it before the burst?” I asked, pouring my cup of go-go juice. They both poured their own cup and dumped an obscene amount of sugar and cream into their coffees. “You realize that’s more of a dessert than coffee, right?”

“So what’s the plan?” Ag asked.

“You’re partnering up with a photographer and reporter, and you’ll be editing or shooting.” I smiled as her mouth dropped open. “And Pt will be in the control room learning how to old school direct.”

“No,” Ag groaned. “That’s not fair.”

Pt laughed. “You have to edit.”

“I shouldn’t have to edit. I edited all your projects for three years.” Ag tried to smack Pt’s cup from her hands. “You should have to edit everything.”

“Is this for a grade?” Pt asked as we left the cafe.

Ag rolled her eyes at Pt. “There aren’t grades anymore. School is over. The world has changed. Forget about grades. We aren’t going to college.”

“First, there are going to be grades.” Ag’s mouth dropped open. “Second, there have been colleges for centuries. Just because the world has shifted doesn’t mean things won’t return to a new normal.”

Both of the girls sighed.

C came in, his hair disheveled, looking like he detested his high school employees. “Look, whoever creates the best news package or directs the best show will earn a prize.”

The girls stopped. He piqued their interest.

“What’s the prize?” Ag asked.

“There is a rumor that electrical rations will go to theme parks.” He told them.

“That’s stupid,” Pt said.

Ag hit her arm. “Shut up. He’s talking about Disney, the happiest place on earth.”

“Disney didn’t win the bid, but Universal did,” C corrected them.

“Whatever, I’m still winning this,” Ag announced to the room.

Three weeks went by. I wish I could say things were interesting, but they weren’t. I swore I would never return vampire hours or work in the news again. But then again, no one ever thought we’d be going through another world-altering catastrophic event again.

The world was the same when it came down to the nuts and bolts of things. People were still robbing each other. They exploited the naïve, and the news cycle kept spinning.. We never had a chance to really breathe. There were press conferences held in our spare newsrooms. Politicians came by at all hours to address the ongoing situation.

At first, the students were star-struck at who walked through our doors. But that quickly faded as life at 3 am became routine. They truly fell into line. I couldn’t imagine that less than a year ago, I would have had to fight tooth and nail for some of these kids to complete a simple editing challenge, but now with little handle holding, they were in lockstep and key with seasoned professionals. It was by far the easiest transition, be it the sassiest and sometimes the whiniest transition I had ever experienced.

I wondered how students from the other academies were fairing. Had their instructors prepared them for a world with “ancient tech?” I had suggested that maybe we should do some fluff pieces on them. But Agent K turned down the idea. No one at the station liked the government having the final say in our news stories. However, they kept the power on. Without them, we’d be like the others in the outside world, where people were getting shot over farmland. It was the wild wild west, and we at least got to pretend it was the 1980s, just with more equality in the control room.

“Mrs. J!” Ag came bounding into the newsroom far too perky at 3 am. “Who won?”

“Who won what?” I asked, trying not to shout at a truck that refused to come into focus.

“The competition! Who’s going to ride roller coasters?!” Pt squealed.

“Oh, my god? Really. I’m trying to do actual work, and you two are making my coffee cold.” Ag stole my cup and came running back with fresh warm happiness. “Thanks, but it’s not up to me. It’s up to C.”

“We were just in his office. He wasn’t there.” Pt flopped down in the chair next to me.

“We’ve been playing the ‘Where’s C Game’ for years. He just vanishes and shows up when you least expect it.” WW told them as he walked out of the control room. “Whoever finds him first will probably be the winner.”

The girls immediately left the newsroom in search of C.

That meant I had about fifteen minutes of peace before there would be shouts from ten students complaining about the results. I finally got the shot from the twins’ truck online, and the moment they were live, I heard my favorite photographer chastity them about how they couldn’t tie each other up with mic cables.

I sighed. I guess some things never changed.

After the morning show, my team gathered in C’s office, waiting for him to announce who had earned a family group passes to Universal. He tried to do his typical ghost routine; however, Ag and Pt had blocked the two exits he liked to use.

C fidgeted with the passes in his hand. “I would like to say you all have done an amazing job. If things were different, I’m not sure I would have thought about having a group of 16 and 17 years running my morning show. However, this has been one of the hardest working group of people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. That is why this decision is so hard.”

The girls crept closer to him. Looking like lions ready to kill their prey. C didn’t falter. He had a survived his only child, a girl who graduated from college a few years prior, and her mother. The man was used to being outnumbered by women.

“I have decided the student has taken the most initiative in learning how to operate not only all the cameras in the studio, out in the field and edit, all while driving everyone around her slightly insane, is Ms. Ag.” C handed her the passes while Pt’s mouth hung open. “She has even crossed over into learning more about producing and directing. I’m looking forward to seeing what she does when she puts more energy into her work with this whining.” He winked at her.

Ag jumped around, waving the passes in Pt’s face. “You better watch out, C. I’m going to take your job.”

Short Stories

Rockview: The Seaside Escape

The early evening sun was beating down on the weathered dock, warming my slightly tanned legs. It was only two weeks into summer, and I hadn’t put on more than a swimsuit and cover-up—Chripchrip. The little cricket alarm on my phone sprung to life, informing me it was time to roll over. I silenced it and did as requested, rolling over and soaking up the last of the evening rays. I didn’t want to have a bronze stomach paired with a ghostly booty.

“I see the bad moon a-rising. I see trouble on the way,” the song rang out on my phone. “Hello?”

“You done cooking?” Jackson asked on the other end.

“Oh, come on? Am I that predictable?”

“Sittin’ on the dock of the bay,” he sang, “watchin’ the tide roll away.”

“Okay, Otis Redding, you’ve made your point.” I sighed as clouds covered the sun, leaving me only with a cool breeze coming off the water. “You should stick to drumming. You were off-pitch.”

“You know, I think singing is in my future.” Jackson laughed as he started to hum another classic rock song.

“Are we getting dinner still?” My stomach growled. I unintentionally skipped every meal basking in the sun, enjoying my vacation.

“Just waiting on you.”

“Cassie, you know I’m not leaving until you’ve showered, blow-dried your hair, did your makeup, picked out what you want to wear, and changed three times. And before you say anything, ” Jackson chuckled, his keys rattling, letting me know that he was already on his way to the truck. “Yes, my dear, you’re that predictable. Yes, I’ve made reservations. And yes, I’ll be there in 45 minutes. So get moving.”

I laid there for about five more minutes before picking up my book and heading towards the house, walking the worn-out grass path that led away from the dock to my front porch. The roof was about ten years old, but it was still holding. Secretly, I hoped a hurricane would do enough damage so the insurance would pay for it, but knowing my luck, that wouldn’t happen until after I replaced it. The windows probably leaked more ac than it kept in but survived more storms than any new builds down the road. Since they hadn’t broken yet, I figured we were safe. Especially since I knew we’d never ride out a storm this close to the ocean. The pillars that lined my porch’s facade were begging to be repainted and were next on my list of realistic things to do right after I addressed the squeaky screen door.

The house was old, two hundred fifty years old, built by my great grandparents when they left the cape seeking warmer waters. It passed onto my grandfather, who added an attached garage When automobiles came into fashion, and then went to my dad, who used it as a vacation house. Dad said he wanted it to be filled with grandbabies, laughs, and happy memories, not just as a hidden sanctuary from the world. Instead of waiting to die as his fathers had before him, he gifted me the house for my 30th birthday this past spring.

However, an old house does not mean old plumbing. Jackson and I updated everything we could afford during winter break, which meant a tankless water heater and a massive shower head. Jackson thought I was ridiculous for wanting something that both of us could fit under at the same time. I just wanted to feel like I was drowning in Hell’s waterfall when I washed away the day’s stink.

I didn’t pick the showerhead for us to share. I loved the idea of being wholly encapsulated in a water column that blocked out the outside world. Besides, the cascading waterfall was the only thing that could penetrate my thick curls. The saltwater always wound them too tight, and most dainty showers might as well have been throwing water at me with a Dixie cup.

As I was humming Bad Moon Rising, I heard something downstairs.

Not again, I thought. Last time some creeper came to the door uninvited Jackson… I didn’t want to think about it. Unattended, the shampoo was running into my eyes, wiping it from my face. I listened again, but all I heard was the constant cascade of running water.

“Fuckers,” I muttered to myself as I washed out the last bit of shampoo. “You don’t have to break my front door.”

I groaned and pulled my towels from the rack. I couldn’t find my tablet, which I usually kept close. With my hair wrapped up in one of the towels and using the other to dry myself, I glanced over at the alarm clock on our nightstand. Jackson was still 10 minutes out. Though always punctual, Jackson was never early. I peeked out my bathroom window, but I didn’t see his black GMC Sierra at the end of the drive. I grabbed my phone off the counter, annoyed that I never downloaded the security camera apps.

“Hey babe, where are you?” I asked when he finally picked up the phone.

“I’m about 10 minutes out. What’s wrong?”

“Can you get here any quicker?” I asked, silently thanking God for the massive mahogany door. Any lesser wood might’ve splintered by now. Immediately I heard his truck pulling off the road and onto the gravel. I looked out the window one more time to be sure. “Somebody’s banging at the door, and all I can see is what looks like an unmarked cop car.”

Jackson sighed, “Did you check the cameras?”

“No, I didn’t check the cameras. I was in the shower and —

“And you left the tablet downstairs?” He sighed. “I told you to download the stupid app.”

“No, it’s in my nightstand,” I corrected him as the security camera notifications rang out behind me. “I would have called you first anyway.”

“Cassie, first you check the cameras, then you call me,” he said, “I’ll cut through the Johnson’s pasture and be there in less than 5.”

Almost in perfect sync with each other, the banging stopped just as Jackson hung up. Whoever was at my door should have left if they were smart.

Annoyed, I marched across the room to fish out my tablet, which was shoved deep inside the nightstand drawer. Twenty-six notifications from the security app awaited me. Of the sixteen cameras arranged around the property, three of them were fixed on the porch. I enlarged the view from the doorbell camera. There were two men at the door, and they looked uncomfortable as hell with their dark blazers and dress shirts buttoned up to their necks.

Jackson was already on the way, and it didn’t look like these two were set on breaking in, so I decided to finish getting ready. With my tablet in hand, I made my way to the bathroom to blow-dry my hair. I didn’t have long. Jackson could drive across water if he thought I was in trouble.

I gave up after a few more passes of the round brush and the dryer on high heat. There was no chance I was beating the Florida heat. It was sweltering outside, and between my damp hair and the humidity, even wearing just a towel felt heavy. I thought for a moment about how I could pull off a swimsuit cover-up as a dress but remembered the last time I did, that I ended up throwing it away. Red wine stains are the devil. Before I could decide on an outfit, I heard the roar of Jackson’s V-8 pulling up to the house.

I checked the clock and laughed. “Three minutes. Good timing, my love.”

I yanked a soft pink Maxi dress off the hanger and matched it with a pair of golden Roman strappy sandals. As Jackson neared the house, he slowed, letting the truck amble toward the two men so they could sweat a little more before they could ask whatever dumb questions they came to ask.

I could see the fire in Jackson’s eyes before he ever slammed the truck door. Men in suits always set him off, and these two were no exception. He never understood why they willingly wore nooses around their necks, though it would be easier for him to hang them from the rafters after he bled them out.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Jackson asked, winking at the camera.

The tall one, with a shiny spot on top of his head, fumbled as he tried pulling out his badge. “We’re looking for the owners of the house.”

Jackson read the badge from the edge of his sightline, never breaking eye contact with the sweating agent. “I’m the owner’s husband. What can I do for you?”

“We were under the assumption that a Derek Morris owns it.”

“Don’t know who’s updating your records at Quantico boys, but I got the credit card debt to prove this is our house.” Jackson scratched his lower back, just above the bulge where he kept his Glock holstered on his waist. “Now, if you don’t mind telling me why you’re standing on my front porch giving my wife a show on the security cameras when I know she’s supposed to be getting ready for dinner.”

Damn it.

I closed the app and headed back into the bathroom. The humidity lingered, making my dress stick. I wiped away the fog from the mirror, watching the last of my metallic scales recede into my hairline.

“Finally,” I whispered. With my scales gone, I saw how my skin glowed from today’s sunbathing adventures. I decided to skip makeup and let my sun-kissed face be free. Grabbing my saltwater pearl earrings from the countertop, I headed downstairs just in time to see Jackson come through the door.

“You missed all the fun,” he teased, locking the deadbolt.

“Who were they?”

“If they’re legit,” Jackson said, watching the black sedan drive away. “Feds. I have a feeling their department is classified.”

“Thank you for saving me,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Again.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. Instinctively he wiped his mouth, expecting my makeup on his lips. “You sure you’re ready?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t I look ready?”

“Cassie, there were feds outside, and you’re just going to go out there naked?”

“I’m not naked,” I told him, avoiding eye contact. I looked for my purse, but it wasn’t hanging on its hook. I turned around to see if I had left it on the kitchen table. “It’s fine. If I need anything, I have stuff in my purse.”

Jackson sighed. “I wonder about you sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” I asked as my stomach growled extra loud as if it was threatening him.

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder, and other times I just know.” Jackson laughed as he picked up the towel I had used earlier, revealing my purse underneath. “Cassie, are you okay?” he asked, handing it to me.

“I think so…I don’t know. I feel like my head’s stuck in the clouds more than usual lately. I’ll get better, though.” I smiled up at him. “I promise to be perfectly normal once you feed me.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Jackson chuckled, nearly falling over as he held the door open for me. “I know who I married.”

Giggling, I walked out onto the porch and toward the truck. “If I weren’t starving, I’d take offense to that.”

We drove along the coast, passing a few farms with fields of cattle resting in the evening sun. The pastures were what I loved most about our town. Because there were acres of land in-between each home, neighbors didn’t bug each other unless they genuinely needed help.

“Did you find out what they wanted before you scared them off?” I asked as I watched the setting sun glisten over the bay.

“They were asking questions about your great-granddaddy. Not entirely sure what the feds would want with a dead man.” Jackson turned left at a four-way stop heading towards the small downtown.

An intricately woven cast-iron archway stretched over the street announcing the town’s name: Rockview. Just to the left was Dolphin Cove Marina, the original landing site of the town’s settlers. Legend had it that a pod of dolphins guided their ships through a storm and safely into the bay, narrowly missing all the rocks hidden by the monstrous, hurricane spun waves.

“You still in the mood for surf and turf?” Jackson asked as we waited for a few overly sun-kissed people–obviously, tourists since the locals stayed tan year-round–to cross the street before we continued down the road.

“Surf and Turf? No, I’ve been craving Franks all week!” I squealed. “I can not wait to sink my teeth into an order of ribs.” I always slathered them with extra BBQ sauce, but tonight, I wanted to drink it from the bottle.

“You going to need a napkin over there?” Jackson asked.

Tourists were everywhere, and I loved it. They brought life– and money– to our sleepy seaside escape. Without the snowbirds, I doubt the town’s quaint architecture of this town would have survived the army of contractors set on turning our brick and limestone buildings into soulless clumps of glass and plaster. Small clothing boutiques and tourist shops that sold cutesy, beachy trinkets were closing up for the evening as restaurants began adding extra tables and chairs onto the sidewalks. Even the food trucks were out tonight hoping to steal away some of the guests who were unwilling to wait for the next available table.

“You might want to call them and let them know we’re going to be late,” Jackson told me, adjusting the rear-view mirror.

“Looks like those feds weren’t done asking questions.” I smiled at him. “At least I’m all dried up.”

“It’s Florida,” he reminded me. “You know what humidity can do to you.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Walk around with a fan on my face? Or should we move back north and dry out like the rest of my people?” The hunger was wearing on my nerves. “I can’t help what I am.”

“That’s why you have that make-up. To hide the fact that you’re a fish,” he teased.

I clenched my jaw. “I’m not a fish. I breathe air, thank you very much!”

“Okay, dolphin.”

“Do you want me to eat you?” I asked sharply. “Don’t take any detours. If they want to poke around for information, they can do it while I’m sipping on wine.”

Jackson snickered. “Whatever you say, princess.” I leaned over the center console and punched him in the arm. “Was that supposed to hurt you or me?”

I didn’t answer him. I kept quiet until we pulled into Frank’s parking lot. It was the only restaurant in town with valet parking, and Jackson refused to use it. He drove us around to the back, where the employees parked, and opened the door for me.

“Heaven,” I said, inhaling the sweet and spicy scent of BBQ ribs and brisket wafting from the smokers.

“If there’s a heaven, it probably smells like this.” Jackson peeked inside his uncle’s smoker. Jackson picked up the baster brush and took a swipe with his finger. After a second tasting, I grabbed it from him. “He needs to add more cayenne pepper.”

“He needs to do no such thing,” I said as I licked the brush. “Your uncle creates magic. Don’t you dare go changing anything,” I stuck the brush in my mouth like a tootsie roll pop and sucked the rest of the sauce off of it. Jackson stared at me appalled but slightly turned on and leaned in to lick the sloppy splotches of BBQ from my face and lips.

Before things could get scaly, we entered the busy kitchen, and as usual, not a single person noticed us. The intoxicating aroma of wine, garlic, and boiling onions danced alongside the savory smells of andouille sausage, corn, potatoes, and of course, Old Bay Seasoning.

“If it’s not my favorite little mermaid!” Uncle Frank’s booming voice erupted from the front of the kitchen. “You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” I asked, trying to avoid getting caught in one of his sweaty bear hugs. I failed. Instead, his monstrous arms wrapped around my thin frame nearly twice.

“I was just about to drop the crabs in the pot. You wanna help?” Uncle Frank asked, releasing me with a kiss on the cheek.

Jackson lingered behind as we walked over to the live crabs. “Hi, Uncle Frank, it’s just me, your own flesh and blood. Your godson and the reason why you even know Cassie.”

Uncle Frank lifted his eyebrows, shoving his hands into the tank. “What’s got him all twisted?”

“Some feds showed up at the house asking questions, and he let them leave alive.” I leaned down to watch a few unbanded crabs take swipes at Uncle Frank.

“That would leave me all sorts of grumpy, especially since they were coming after you.” Uncle Frank chuckled, emerging from the tank with his chest half wet.

I looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with him. “They might be in your dining room right now.” “What the hell?”

He groaned. “Cassie, why did you bring that rabble into my restaurant? I have to look respectable for the snowbirds.”

“I think as long as your food continues tasting like it does, you could walk around naked, and most wouldn’t mind.” That earned me a deep belly laugh.

“I’d mind.” Jackson sighed. “And I can see them. Sarah sat them at the bad table. That wolf is one smart kid.”

“That’s why I keep her around,” Uncle Frank bragged. “She needs to work on her people skills, but I don’t have to worry about security when she’s here.”

I dropped two crabs into the boiling water. I always felt conflicted about the idea of keeping creatures in captivity. I had no problem hunting for my food. It felt less like murder when whatever I was after had the chance to run away. I felt a little bit better knowing that most people believe that crabs cry when they get dropped in boiling water. It’s not so much they’re sobbing as it’s them cursing me a thousand different painful deaths. Maybe they shouldn’t be so damn tasty.

Elijah, a veteran server, came in and grabbed fresh bread from a basket. As he was about to leave, he made eye contact with me and pointed to his hairline. Shit, my scales! Playing with a boiling pot of water wasn’t such a great idea.

“Um, babe,” I ran over to Jackson, who was watching the two FBI agents through the small round window in the kitchen door. “We have a problem.”

“Yeah, I know, those guys aren’t the feds.” Jackson turned and saw how bad it was. “Holy shit Cassie. Your face. This is why —”

“I know, I know. I fucked up.” I can’t believe I thought I could get away with no makeup.

It was the main thing that kept me from, well, looking like a fish girl who forgot to grow gills. I wanted to scratch my hairline. It was painful to have the scales hidden under my skin for so long. Stupid curiosity was getting the better of me. I wasn’t a cat. I didn’t have nine lives. What the hell was I thinking going out in public without protection?

Jackson pulled me close to his chest, keeping his breathing level. “We’ll figure this out, my love.”

I’m not sure what was going on with me. I had never been triggered by steam before. Usually, it took a full-on shower for even the smallest of my scales to make an appearance. I had never lost control over my body to the point where I murried out in public.

Holding my arms tight against my body, I shivered from the pain of the finlets as they sliced through my dry forearms. “I swear if you stab me with those spikes, you’re going to be angry with yourself for ruining my shirt.”

He was right. I would be mad if I ruined his shirt, again, for the third time this month. Blood wasn’t the problem. I knew how to get blood out of clothes. What I didn’t know was how to sew.

Uncle Frank took one look out the swing door and quickly shuffled us away. “My dear, let’s get you into my office. Easier to clean up any spilled blood.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” I told him with a fake smile. “The feds have vanished, and my guys can’t track them.”

Uncle Frank said flatly, “And I have a restaurant full of paying humans that I’d like to keep happy. So dry up in here before we have more to worry about.”

“You act more like him than you do your dad,” I told Jackson as soon as I knew Uncle Frank was out of earshot.

Jackson shook his head. “You’re just lucky he loves you because anyone else would have been out on their ass.”

“Do you honestly think they were Feds?” I asked as my body started to get control over itself.

“You know the government loves to employ are kind,” Jackson reminded me. “Love, I saw scales on when he whipped the sweat away. There’s a possibility he’s Muir.”

“Fuck,” I whispered. “It’s been over 250 years. They can’t possibly still be holding a grudge.”

“You hold grudges if I don’t take out the trash on time.” He reminded me. “There are countless amounts of Muir that blame your granddaddy for abandoning them in the new world.”

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to fight back the tears. We weren’t immortal, but for centuries we were indestructible, taking to the sea when our bodies needed to heal. But our healing source has become contaminated. It wasn’t something that happened quickly or even done on purpose. It was a by-product of the carousel of progress, as humans and Muir like created new and marvelous things that no one can live without, came new ways to poison us. We didn’t realize what was going on until it was too late.

Jackson folded me in his arms. “Want me to call your dad?”

“No,” I said. “Let’s have dinner first and then call him.”

“Fine, but you can’t stab me at the dinner table,” Jackson said, rubbing his hands on my now recovered arms. “You know how Frank is about getting blood on the furniture.”

We left the office and made our way to Sarah, the hostess. She smiled a toothy smile before leading us to our usual spot on the deck. It was close enough to the water for me to feel the breeze and not to have to worry about the moisture triggering anything.

“Chris will be out in a moment,” she said, dropping off the menus and returning to her stand.

“Why is Chris working tonight?” I asked, opening the menu. I never actually ordered anything from the menu. Uncle Frank usually knew exactly what I wanted and had the cooks making it before the waiter took our drink order. But after the whole Muirring out in the middle of his kitchen, he might have forgotten.

Jackson flipped open the drink menu, scanning the long list of beers. I knew he was searching to see if they finally added red ales to the list. “He’s covering all of Janice’s shifts. Frank said that Janice just stopped showing up, so they sent a few people to check on her. Her place was cleaned out.”

“Hm,” I said more to the menu than to Jackson. “I wonder if she started getting a body count.”

“Well, an Erinyes can only be good for so long.” Jackson folded the menu and looked around. Our server still hadn’t appeared and thankfully, neither had the feds.

“I told her working here would be hard, too many choices to snack on. A bar is the perfect place to find someone breaking their wedding vows.” I looked around at the other couples, wondering who was breaking their marriage vows. “Where’s is Chris?”

We watched as Jessica and Rachel walked by our table. Each of them smiled at us and kept ongoing. I didn’t blame them. Everyone was in the weeds tonight, which is probably why the new guy was so late.

Our usual server, Steve, nearly passed us but stopped. “Why don’t you guys have drinks yet?”

“Because Sarah sat us in Chris’ section.” I sighed.

“Why the fuck would she sit you with Chris? I got to talk to that girl,” Steve shook his head. “She just triple sat him. I think she’s punishing him for gambling way their rent again.”

Steve left the table without taking our order.

“Bring us a bottle of red!” I shouted at him.

Steve stuck his hand in the air to acknowledge me.

“Well, at least it wasn’t the middle finger this time.” I smiled at Jackson.

On the floating dock, a guitarist strummed a relaxing melody. I listened, trying to wash away my mounting fear. I watched couples sway back and forth on the dock bar sipping on drinks, not having a care in the world. I was jealous. I wanted to live in their world where monsters didn’t exist.

“So, Muir feds?” I rolled my eyes. “That’s new.”

“If they are actual feds, we’re fucked. I don’t know where else we can go that’s more off the grid than a town with two stoplights.” Jackson grabbed my hand and kissed it. “Wanna buy a boat and sail away.”

“As much as I loved the idea of disappearing from the whole world. Dad would kill us if we did that.” I laid my head on the table. “Where’s our wine?”

Jackson started to stand up but quickly changed his mind. “Don’t turn around.”

Of course, I turned around.

The tall, not bald federal agent was now impersonating Chris. His shirt was two sizes too small, Chris’s name tag was half hanging on, and the buttons were buttoned unevenly. The man was trying to carry my bottle of wine, but it was obvious he had no serving experience as it nearly fell off the tray twice. Even if I’d never seen Chris before, I knew, even at this distance, this man wasn’t human. Hell, I knew he wasn’t Muir. I don’t know how Jackson overlooked the bulging eyes and wide-set nose. All telltale signs of Salamander folk.

“Ugh,” I made a cat face to hold back the bile, trying to escape from my stomach. “Why do they always smell like the receding tide?”

Jackson laughed at me, but it seemed as though he was unaware of the approaching smell of sulfur and rotten eggs. The closer he got, the more overwhelming the smell became.

“They smell. How do you not smell it?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“You Undine are so weird?” Jackson shrugged.

I stopped as the bottle of wine came into my peripheral. “Where’s Chris?” I hissed as he uncorked the bottle.

“He’s unhurt. My partner gave him a sleeping draft and stashed him in the utility closet. It’ll wear off in less than an hour,” the waiter said. “I know, it was drastic, but we need to talk.”

“About what?” Jackson demanded loud enough to earn the glances of the couple at the table next to us. Their eyes flashed yellow, exposing that they weren’t human, making me worry less about the disruption.

I just hoped Uncle Frank wasn’t going to catch wind of all this.

“My partner and I should have handled this in private but, here we are,” he said, pouring Jackson a glass of wine. “I promise I didn’t poison it.”

Jackson locked eyes with the Salamander. “If you had, it would have been the last thing you did.”

“Sir, killing you would make our journey mute.” The Salamander looked around. “There are factions in the north talking about a Muir and Undine couple. They are saying the offspring’s blood will-.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy.” I laughed so hard that I brought more attention to us from all the tables nearby. But the Salamander’s emotions never wavered. “I’m not pregnant.”

“At first, we thought they were speaking of your mother. Since she produced a hire so early in life, but now,” the man leaned in close, smelling me.

Jackson nearly flipped the table, getting out of his chair. Pulling the Salamander away from me, he growled. “Do you have a death wish?”

The Salamander threw hands up in the air, “I had to be sure,” he stammered. “But ma’am, you’re pregnant.”

“Cassie?” Jackson stared at me. “Is he- is there any possibility?”

“I’m still two days away from even thinking that is a possibility.” I stammered. “And even if I were, I have no clue what our child could do for the Salamanders.”

“It’s not just us.” He said, rubbing his throat. “Your child could save the aquatic peoples from all the human pollutants. Its blood is the cure. It’s the reason we left the old world.”

Short Stories

Viral Hysteria

It didn’t take long for the illness to spread. No one was taking it seriously in the way it should have been, and the public had their own ideas on how to combat the spread of the virus. Apparently, everyone on social media thought they knew how to stay safe, and all the medical experts were out to get them. Their wild ideas were only more confirmed as the body count rose, and the ridiculous notion that science didn’t matter was making waves.

“What is the CDC really doing to help us?” a woman shouted into the microphone from behind a bedazzled mask.

​The town hall meeting room reeked of lavender and other conflicting essential oils.​

The middle-aged CDC spokesperson wiped his brow. “I can assure you that they are working as quickly as possible. But with how fast the T13B4 virus mutates, nearly all the vaccines that have been created are obsolete.”​

“Then what’s the point of wasting our money on snake oil?” she said to heavy applause from her town’s people.​

A young doctor named Caroline Avanti leaned into her microphone. “It’s far less snake oil than the shit you have pumping through the vents.” She spoke clearly and precisely at the angry woman. “The problem is, not a single one of you wants to listen to what we have to say. You expect instant results, and that’s not how science works. Half of you will go home tonight and rub some crap under your nose when all you had to do in the beginning was wash your hands, and if you felt the slightest bit ill to stay home so no one would share germs.”​

The bedazzled woman gasped. “I don’t have to take this kind of abuse from the likes of you. You people are probably hiding the cure, and that’s why you’re sitting here unmasked and not living in fear like the rest of us.”

​“Yes, you above all people do need to take this.” Dr. Avanti snapped. “You all have lived such blessed lives that any bit of trouble that may come your way has scared you into a panic. Instead of listening to those who have spent their lives studying and curing viruses, you turn to celebrities and talking heads who are clueless to real answers. This virus would have died out long ago if people just listened and followed directions.”​

Dr. Avanti stared down at the woman until she finally returned to her seat.​

Quickly the town council leader rushed to the podium. “Thank you all for your questions tonight, but we’ve run out of time. If you have any other concerns, please make use of the email address we’ve set up for the virus.”​

The town hall emptied with low murmurs of disgust, but Dr. Avanti did not care. She had enough of the self-righteous upper class Googling the newest holistic remedy.​

The salty-haired CDC official approached Dr. Avanti from behind and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, doctor,” he said curtly. “Next time, would you mind sharing your opinions a little less aggressively?”

​She smiled sweetly. “As soon as they stop Googling about healing crystals.”​

“They are afraid.” The CDC official growled.

​“Of course, they are afraid. Your organization has been silent about the recovery numbers. Cures don’t sell, and fear does.” Caroline growled back. “Maybe if you spent the same amount of time giving the facts of the matter instead of inflating the severity of the situation, people would be less afraid. But then you couldn’t control them, could you?”​

He locked eyes with her. “We don’t want to control anyone.”​

“Could have fooled me.”​

Dr. Avanti left the town hall meeting exhausted. It was her fifth one of the day and twentieth for the county this week. She noticed an unsettling trend that the wealthier the town, the less likely the residents believed their doctors. It was unnerving how people with the best access to medical care avoided it with the same fervor they should have put into following the guidelines on staying healthy.​

She walked a few blocks down the street to her hotel, and like all the others she had stayed at, this one was uncomfortably empty.

​When the virus started to spread, people took advantage of the cheap airlines and cruises, finally booking those long-awaited vacations. But it only took six months for the virus to mutate into a much more virulent strain, and the media unwisely branded it a pandemic. Strands of the virus that could survive in the cold were blending with those from the tropics. It was now a super virus.​

Soon all countries were closing their borders. State lines were guarded by the national guard and staffed with medical professionals who would test all travelers. But it didn’t matter how many people were tested. There were still those who were asymptomatic that would make their way through checkpoints.​

The death count rose nightly but depending on where you looked. The numbers were changing. While certain news outlets would report in the double digits, the CDC kept a tight lid on how many people had lost their lives. Reporters would try to dig and find out if there were any other lining causes to the deaths other than the T13B4 virus, but they would never get a straight answer.​

“Could I get a glass of Johnnie Walker Green?” Caroline asked, taking a seat at the empty bar. “Neat, please.”

​The bartender wore black gloves and a mask with a skull and crossbones on it.​

In the last year, masks had become a fashion statement mirroring a trend that began in Asia years ago. It didn’t matter that, for the most part, they did little to protect the wearer from contracting the virus. The masks gave those who wore them peace of mind.​

The bartender passed the drink through the hole in the plexiglass divider that separated the bartenders from their patrons.​

“Thanks.” She left a tip on her side of the bar.

If he wants it, he can come get it, she thought, sipping her scotch.

​In one year, the world had changed.​

People were more fearful than ever before, making them quick to hate and quick to blame. There was no easy target for them to direct their rage since each region had a different patient zero. It made it hard to fight an enemy you couldn’t see. It was hard to hate the enemy when it didn’t care what you looked like, who you believed in, or how little was in your bank account.

​The local news channels kept an updated ticker running with the regional hospitals’ wait times and availability. Funerals had been replaced with cremation ceremonies. There was no evidence of the virus spreading through the ground and into the water from the dead, but a random Facebook post frightened the public enough that overnight cremation became the status quo.​

Before Caroline crawled into bed, she sprayed the room with perfume, trying to mask the scent of bleach. She finally relaxed when her phone vibrated.​

“Hello, my love,” her husband greeted her. “How’s Pleasantville?”

​“Terrifying. The step-ford wives were out in full force tonight.” She snuggled deep into the blankets. “They want the vaccine, and they don’t care about the side effects. It’s hard to explain to them that more people have recovered from the virus when all they see and hear about are those who die.”​

“You have the data to back it up.” he reminded her gently. “Caroline, you know I’ll support you no matter what you decide to do, but I really think you should publish your findings.”

“I can’t just have numbers. I need someone to talk to the media.” She sighed. “I need to find someone who’s recovered and willing to put their face out there. I don’t know if many people are willing to face that kind of harassment.”​

“If anyone can convince people to talk, it’s you.”​She rolled over and flicked the light off. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

​“I’ll be there before the plane even lands,” he promised. “Why does this tour of torment feel longer than your last?”

​“This one was longer, 27 days, 6 hours, and 47 minutes longer.” She sighed. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Get some sleep. You sound exhausted.”​

“I don’t know if it’s from the press conferences that I’ve been doing or the uptight people I’ve met, but I really miss you, home, and the simplicity of everything.” She barely managed to get it all out between her yawns. “Good night, I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”​

When Caroline’s taxi pulled up to the airport, she could see masks and bleach wipes for sale outside.

​“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she passed the $30 sale sign.

​Caroline waited in line to check her bag. A few other travelers waited behind her keeping their distance. One benefit from this whole fiasco was the new use of personal space. But the judgmental side-eyed glances and rude comments that people were making under their breath at her unmasked face were enough to ensure that she would never return to this God-forsaken state.​

“Good morning, ma’am. How many bags?” the friendly airline customer service representative asked her with a genuine smile.​

“Just the one.” Caroline placed her bag into the plexiglass box, and a disinfectant spray fumigated her bag before releasing it to the conveyor belt.​

“You’ll be boarding last,” she said, slipping me the ticket with a wink. “I hope you enjoy your flight, Doctor.”​

Caroline glanced down at her ticket, looking for her gate number, when she noticed that the woman had bumped her up to first class. She looked back to wave, but the representative was already helping another traveler.​

The body scanners once used to search for hidden weapons had been altered to check body temperatures. Anyone with a temperature over 99 degrees was not allowed to board. Because of the virus, travelers no longer needed to take off their shoes, and the bins for their personal belongings were stacked and taken to be cleaned every fifteen minutes.


Caroline grabbed her jacket and purses just as an alarm started to blare, and everyone froze as a hazmat team stormed into the terminal. The team walked inside the portable virus prevention box next to a stretcher. Caroline didn’t need to look to know by their lack of urgency that their patient was dead.​

“Why aren’t they wearing their masks?” A woman whispered to the man standing next to them.​

“If they are taking that risk, there is a huge possibility that he didn’t die from the virus,” Caroline said, trying to assure her.​

The woman rolled her eyes. “That’s still irresponsible.”​

The alarm shut off as they passed security and out of the airport.

I can’t get out of here fast enough. She thought as she easily found a seat next to her gate.

​When the plane landed and its passengers disembarked, no one stood up to leave immediately. It had become common knowledge that it would take at least an hour before the plane was disinfected up to industry standards. Caroline watched from the window as the line servicemen loaded the luggage into the belly of the aircraft. Even in the sweltering summer heat, they all wore long sleeves, thick pants, and gloves. She could only see their eyes on some of the men because they wore both a hat and face mask.

Well, at least the seats won’t be sticky. She thought as the cleaners left the plane.​ The flight attendant in charge of calling the rows picked up the mic. “Due to the ongoing battle of the T13B4 virus, we ask you to please only board when called. Any early boarding will result in the aircraft needing to be re-cleaned, causing a much longer delay.”​

Caroline counted how many people were waiting. Twenty-seven, only twenty-seven people were traveling today. This was a large number compared to the rest of the time she traveled this month. Before today the top number was fifteen.​

A click came over the speaker. “The last group we’d like to welcome onto our flight today are our first class and diamond star members.”​

Caroline picked up her purse and walked to the jetway.​

“Excuse me, ma’am, but if you have misplaced your mask, I do have a few extras for no charge.” The attendant offered passive-aggressively.​

“No, thank you,” Caroline smiled back. “I will just have to resist the urge of licking my seat or neighbor no matter how tasty they may look.”​

Caroline’s laugh was lost in the blast of air as she entered the jetway. She waited at the plane’s door for the flight attendant to check her ticket.​

“Sarah,” called the attendant to the other waiting down the aisle. “You can close the door to business and coach. She’s first class.”​

Sarah heaved the heavy door shut and bolted it. As she made her way to the front of the plane, she unzipped the protective plastic wall that kept the first-class seats sterilized.​The flight attendant handed Caroline a glass of champagne and directed her to her seat. “Enjoy the flight.”

Short Stories

The Fae’s Talisman

“Layla, try not to bring attention to yourself,” Jason warned me, swiping his key-card, getting us into the building.

The security to the Dunbar Facility was ridiculous. There were armed officers in front of the building and two officers with rifles standing inside the entrance. They even had one posted next to the most unwelcoming desk I’d ever seen.


“Please place your chin on the plate.” The receptionist smiled, pointing to the eye scanner. “I’ll need your fingerprint and a sample of your blood before we can allow you back into the labs.”

“My blood?” I asked, trying not to blink as the blinding light flashed, scanning my retina.


“The research we do isn’t safe for those with weak immune systems,” she said, pricking the tip of my forefinger with a small cylindrical device. “I’m sure you understand.


“Of course.” I lied.


I knew the blood collection had nothing to do with my well-being. Jason already warned me that they were checking for creatures and fae. Adding new specimens was high on their to-do list just as much as recapturing an old one. I just prayed that the glamour would hold until we got what we came for.


My bones ached as the radiation seeped through me. The body scanner was the hardest thing for me to fool. It took my total concentration to conceal my wings in person and on that blasted screen.


“Ma’am, could you raise your arms higher?” The security guard asked as he waved a coworker over. He pointed to the screen, and the woman looked over the monitor shaking her head.


“Check your cables. There’s nothing wrong with this poor girl beside you making her stand there like a fool.”

The female security guard scolded him. “You’re free to go, ma’am. I’m sorry for the delay.”


I grabbed my oversized purse from the conveyor belt. I had been sure to leave nearly nothing in it besides a book and my cellphone. I didn’t want to give them any excuse to have to go through my bag.


“Girl, you’re magic.” Jason teased as we waited for the elevator.


“I was magic. I’m not sure I have much left after that.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “I haven’t had to project this much glamour in a long time.”

“How long do you think it’ll hold?” He asked as we stepped into the empty lift. “Under thirty for sure.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, setting the alarm sub-basements on his watch. “We’ll be out before that.”


The deeper we went into the sub-basements, the woozier I became. I could feel the iron surrounding the elevator. I needed to be outside in the sun, near the sea, to regain my energy. Jason was worried, though he didn’t verbalize it. I knew by how close he held me.


“I’ll manage,” I promised.


“I know, my love,” he kissed the top of my head. “You always do.”


Halogen lights illuminated the nauseatingly sterile hallway of the sub-basement. The white paint glittered, pushing me to the center of the hall. Jason held onto my arm, keeping me grounded so we wouldn’t alert the guards diligently watching us.


“Did they mix salt with the paint?” I asked, nearly tripping over my feet.


“Salt and iron flakes.” He told me quietly. “They want to pin all fae to the ground.”


“They can pin their iron somewhere else,” I said bitterly. “If they’d just leave us alone, we wouldn’t fucking be here.”

Bells were ringing, but they were at a nearly inaudible pitch to me. I didn’t want to think about those who were on the other side of the iron doors. They had been weakened to the point of putty. The guards knew there was no need to worry about anyone fleeing without any natural elements to heal the fae. As a precaution, they still had a daisy chain hanging from each doorknob. It was a blessed side effect I gained after five years of torture from this place.


I wish there were another option on how to get back the amulet. For sixty years, I had avoided recapture only to walk through their doors willingly. Jason’s blood contained enough human DNA to fool Dunbar’s system, but he couldn’t stay at one facility for long. His graceful aging would always raise suspicion.

“What’s this?” I asked, stopping at a bulletin board. There were laminated cards with names printed on them. “Are they tracking families?”


“Layla,” Jason tugged on my arm. “We have to go.”


“Why didn’t you say anything?” I did my best not to shout at him. I grabbed three cards off the board and shoved them into my purse.


“This,” he pointed at me. “This reaction right here is why I didn’t tell you.”


I could feel my skin heating up. I couldn’t allow myself to snap, or I’d lose my glamor. “Those families have children. Tell me you’ve warned them.”


“I can tell you that no one has gotten hurt,” he said quietly.


“If we get out of here, I’m killing you.” I fumed. Jason laughed. “Whatever makes you sleep better at night.”

“Yeah, your head on a pike.”

It felt like we walked a mile before getting to the tenth set of doors. I was insulted that there wasn’t a daisy chain waiting, but why would there be? I was on the outside. Keep calm. I told myself as Jason cracked the door open. Dust flew in the dim light. Nothing had been moved since I escaped. A stack of books laid on the nightstand waiting to be cracked open next to a half-empty cup of coffee. My vanity desk was left undisturbed. I was so sure that one of the orderlies would have stolen the silver brushes or pearl earrings I had left behind.

“Please still be here,” I whispered. Opening my velvet-lined jewelry box, I found the rosary that my grandmother, Mimi, had given me at the turn of the century. It was the only thing she brought back from visiting the Vatican. A hand-painted, cracked image of the Virgin Mary looked up at me, and though it had yellowed with age, it was still beautiful. The six sapphire stones, dedicated to the Our Father prayer, held immense power since they were collected from sacred fae grounds. My ancestors found it safer to keep our traditions close by mincing those of whatever religion was prevalent.

Jason stared wide-eyed at me. “Don’t tell me that we’re risking our lives for a necklace. I could have sent someone down to collect it.”


“You know it’s not just a necklace. Mimi protected the talisman from anyone that wasn’t family.” I reminded him, lowering the delicate chain over my head. With the rosary safely on my body, I started to search through the dresser drawers, only finding my dated clothes. “Shit, the album is missing.”

My dresser. The dresser Jason spent the last 150 years of our marriage carving intricate knots work. I learned a long time ago to let go of anger when I lost my possession to those who hunted us. Instinctively Jason slid his hand along the edge of the dresser. With a pop, the side panel eased open. He knelt, shoving his hand into the crevasse, and pulled out a weathered booked. “Not missing, just in a safe place.”

I clutched the album to my chest, pressing the rosary deep into my skin. I could feel the power of the prayer stones radiating through my body. Sealed into the pages were hundreds of years of magical spells only to be unlocked by someone of the Morrison bloodline.


“Oh shit.” My wings unveiled, dropping to the ground. The glamour had worn off faster than I expected. In the hazy mirror, I watched my blonde hair return to its natural rose gold as my blue eyes faded to violet. It was only a matter of time before the glamour masking my blood disappeared, setting off the alarms.


“Jesus Layla,” He threw his jacket over my shoulders. “You need to give me a heads up.”


I spun on my heels, dropping the album into my purse. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” taking in a deep breath, I gagged on the scent of blackberries. “There are too many poisons. I can’t fight them anymore.”


“I don’t think my magic is strong enough for both of us.” Jason looked down the hall and saw the flashing red light. “I don’t see any guards yet. Maybe it’s a false alarm.”

“False alarm? When has that ever happened?” My heart pounded so hard that the rosary vibrated on my chest. “I can’t be trapped. Here again, I’ll die.”


“Layla,” Jason kissed my fingers, drawing me into him. “I need you to think. How did you get out of escape before?”

Escape, escape, he’s right. I’ve done this before.


But that was sixty years ago when this room was just a room with a locked door. Not a max security fairy penitentiary. I needed to get control of myself if I wanted to be of any use. I escaped from this hell hole before, and I would do it again.


I hated when he was right.


Peeking my head out into the empty hall gave me a moment to regroup, even though I could hear the boots stomping towards us.


“We need to get to the stairs,” I told him, giving him back his jacket, stripping off my blouse and pants. “If they close the door while we’re in here, we’ll never get out.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asked.


I shoved my clothes into my purse and found a lace slip dress hanging in the closet. I quickly dropped it over my head. Digging my fingers into my hair, I shook out my curls, trying to make myself look as chaotic as possible.

Jason craned his head out the door. “Better make it quick love, there are about ten guards headed towards us.”

“Almost done,” I promised, taking off the rosary and draping it over his head.

“This is Mimi’s magic?” Jason asked, touching the talisman. “What’s this thing going to do to me?”

“It’s going to turn you into a guard, and you’ll lead us out of here or die,” I said, flipping through the album, stopping once I found the picture of Mimi wearing the rosary. Hovering my hand over the image, I could hear her incantation. “Hold me close, my dear, and do not fear those who come beyond the grave.”


“Sounds like I’m going to die.” Jason interrupted.

“Hush.” I hissed. “Free thy body, readying the bridge of both our worlds, hail them home with their names. Join the many to one soul.”


Jason methodically moved his fingers around the rosary, touching each bead, calling out a different name of the deceased. “I evoke thee.”


I could hear the bones crunch as his face transformed from oval to round in an odd blend of his dead uncles. A bushy red beard poofed out of his chin. His jet black hair fell to the ground leaving him bald with red peach fuzz. Jason’s ears and nose were a little too big for the size of his head, but thankfully the transformation didn’t alter his height. It would be hard to pass him off as an agent in an ill-fitted suit.


“Oh, you really shouldn’t have picked so many.” I snickered. “At least no one will ever be able to recognize you.”


Jason wasn’t amused. “Alright, crazy, what’s next?”


I flitted over to him, acting as ridiculous as possible. Trying to remember the state of mind I had been in the last time a Dunbar agent drugged me. “Okay, I’m ready,” I said, throwing myself into his arms.


“This is not going to work. We’re going to die.” Jason nearly dropped me, trying to fit both of us through the door. “Can’t you just walk?”


“Can’t walk, drugged,” I reminded him quietly.

A guard with captain stripes led the pack of private mercenaries. “Drop the fairy,” he shouted, pointing his rifle at us.


“Captain Cooper, I have direct orders to bring Ms. Morrison to Director Stevens,” Jason said, lowering me to the ground.


“Ms. Morrison?” Cooper looked over to a corporal furiously typing into a tablet. “Sir-”


Jason interrupted. “Agent Perlman.”


“Captain,” the corporal leaned in, whispering. “There’s no record of Ms. Morrison being reentered into the system.”

“Agent Perlman, it looks like you’ve collected the wrong fae, simple mistake.” Captain Cooper said, slowly walking around me. “The higher-ups don’t usually have the most dated records.”

He used the tip of his rifle to push my hair away from my face. I knew Captain Cooper, only I knew him as a much younger man. Twenty years ago, Dunbar had nearly caught me. Jason and I had just moved to Chicago, hoping the city would help us blend in, but being so deep in the city made me sick.


We decided that leaving during the Fourth of July holiday would have been safer. So many travelers on the road, people camping and drinking, having a blast. No one would have possibly noticed a strange woman with pink hair dancing around a fire. We were wrong. Unknowingly we chose to build our fairy circle next to a group of new Dunbar recruits, and Captain Cooper was an over-eager recruit.


“Hello, Ms. Morrison.” He sneered.

“Goodbye, Captain Cooper.” I snapped my hands up, shooting a ball of light into his face.

“Layla! Warnings, a nudge, just give me something!” Jason yelled at me as we ran towards the stairwell.

I could feel my wings fluttering back to life. “I didn’t know if it was going to work.” And thank God it did. My sparkle fingers were a sorry excuse for what I could have done at full power. But it did the job.


“Get them!” Cooper’s bellow echoed off the walls.


Jason tugged off the rosary and jammed it in my hand. “You’ll be stronger with this.”


“No, they’ll recognize you.” I couldn’t give the talisman back. The damage had already been done.

His jet black hair was returning as he shed the bright red beard. “It’s fine. I was over filing paperwork.”


Jason didn’t file paperwork. Not once in his 200 years has that man ever done the paperwork. Usually, he’d have some other low-blooded Fae as his assistant to take care of his work while he was out in the field.


“Jason Ferris, why am I not surprised you fuck those winged beasts.” Captain Cooper drew his pistol and fired. “I’ll hand you over to the doctors right along with her.”


“We might as well die here once the resistance learns you’ve been burned,” I yelled at him over the screams of the fae banging on their doors, pleading to be freed.


“The resistance can suck my left nut. I’m done doing their dirty work. It’s someone else’s turn to risk their lives for them.” Jason said, ducking from a bullet. “Got any more sparkles left, Tinkerbell?”

I wasn’t sure what I had left. I clutched on tight to the rosary, feeling the stones’ power pulse through me. A loud hum reverberated throughout the hall, pushing the mercenaries back. It was only a few inches, but that was the confirmation that I needed. “I hope they’re thinking happy thoughts.” I smiled before turning to face them. “Captain Cooper, why don’t you let your underlings go, and we can play.”


“Ms. Morrison-”


“Please, call me Layla.” I grabbed the closest daisy chain hanging from a doorknob and flung it at the Captain. He jumped out of the way, leaving two corporals exposed. In a matter of seconds, they were engulfed in a daisy cocoon. “Oh, come now, Captain, you know this is above their pay grade.”

“Don’t taunt the man Layla,” Jason laughed, exposing his pointed teeth. My husband’s glamour faded away, allowing Captain Cooper to see who he had truly been working with for the last decade. “You never know what those filthy humans may do.”


“Captain,” called one of the daisy-chained corporals. “Captain, it’s hard to breathe in here.”


“Bryant, cut them out,” He ordered, narrowing his gaze onto Jason’s gray, leathered wings. “This explains so much. The only way you could’ve outdone me was by being fae. I knew you would never have succeeded on your own merits.”

Jason charged the Captain, tackling him to the ground. The two wrestled on the ground—Jason’s wings slapping Cooper in the face. Cooper caught ahold of Jason’s arm and tried to sink an armbar, but Jason picked him up and slammed him on the ground. “Cooper, a child, could outsmart you. You’re an idiot, just like most of your kind.”


“Yet you’re arrogant enough to attack me.” Cooper sneered. “It’s ten to two. Your odds aren’t any good, freak.”


“You’re the one on the ground, and you’re still talking shit?” Jason kicked him in the ribs. “It could be ten to one. It doesn’t matter. I’m stronger.”

A corporal tried tossing Cooper’s iron cuffs but ended up hitting Jason’s leg.

“Irons don’t work on halflings.” Jason hooked the chain around Cooper’s head. As pulled the chain taut across Cooper’s neck, the corporals scattered. “Sacrifice your men, and they sacrifice you.” Jason taunted him.


“This is ridiculous.” I thought, clutching the talisman tightly in my fist. The glow from the sapphires seeped through my fingers as I circled the two men wrestling. They were oblivious to how close I had gotten to them. With one firm stomp, I sent a crack through the ground separating them.


“Jason?” I shouted. “Are you two done having a pissing contest?”


“You’re free to go, Ms.Morrison,” Cooper, freed from Jason’s grasp, caught ahold of the iron chain. He wrapped it around Jason’s head and schlepped him down the hall. “The docs will have fun with this one.”


“Piece of shit,” I growled, shoving my hand into my purse. I hated that my weakened magic relied on a book, but no way the Captain was taking Jason. A soft glow illuminated from the bag running up my arm. I wove the power between my finger, absorbing it into my body, before sending a burst of energy at the Captain’s chest. “Let go of my husband, you piece of shit.”


Cooper went flying in the air smashing into the ceiling. I let out a small burst of energy as he fell to the ground. He groaned and convulsed as electricity pulsed through his body.


“Did you really have to play with him that much?” I asked, unwrapping the chain.


“I didn’t think he’d be that much of a challenge.” Jason coughed.


“Your cockiness is going to get you killed.”


“Keeping you on your toes.” Jason stole a kiss before helping me up. “Mimi had some power.”


“Shut up.” I laughed at the grinning idiot. “Let’s go.”


He was right. My grandmother’s book was lethal. It felt glorious, radiating with so much power.


“Layla, what are you doing?” Jason asked as I stopped at the base of the stairs.


We were inches from freedom, but I couldn’t leave the rest of the fae locked inside to be tortured. As the talisman took control of me, their whispers had become cries. I was beginning to feel their pain, and I couldn’t let them suffer any longer. “Open,” I commanded the iron doors.


They screeched, dragging themselves open across the dirty, yellowed linoleum floor. The mercenaries that had abandoned Captain Cooper came running from around the corner, weapons drawn.


“We should stay.” I pleaded to Jason.

Howls echoed through the halls bringing the mercenaries to a halt. Their glamour had failed them long ago. Even from the stairs, I would see the years of abuse as their tattered discolored skin shined brightly under the dull fluorescent light. The faes were rabid.

“They’ll be fine.” He said, pulling my arm. “But bring Cooper, I’m not done with him yet.”


“Veni,” I whispered, and the unconscious Captain appeared on the stairs in front of us. “You’re carrying him.”

I tried not to look back as we ascended the stairs, but a blood-curdling cry made my head snap. The floor was painted in blood. A fae with mutilated wings tore an arm from a mercenary.

I ran past Jason. “Yep, they’re good.”


Sirens blared as we charged up three flights of stairs. Jason tested each door, pressing Cooper’s hand to the pad, but none would unlock.


“He’s worthless to walk through their doors willingly Jason said, dropping him to the ground.


“Wrong hand.” Captain Cooper wheezed, sliding this left hand up the wall.


A blast came from down below, shaking the way. A primal cry came from the basement as the carriage spilled into the stairwell.


“What did you do to them?” I shouted at the Captain.


“It wasn’t me, I swear. The scientist didn’t think y’all were human.”


“We aren’t.” I kicked him.


Cooper scrambled, trying to stand. “Take me with you.” Jason grabbed his hand, shoving it on the scanner, turning the red lock green. “Cutting it off would be easier.” “Won’t work,” he said with a labored breath. “It needs to be warm.”


Jason dragged the Captain into the hall while I sealed the door shut. We ran down towards the closet window. It wasn’t far enough away for me to feel safe from the fae that pounded on the door, trying to destroy the thing that stopped them.


Jason grabbed a fire extinguisher and threw it at the window. It barely left a crack.


“Really? It’s a max security prison. I shoved him out of the way. You think a fire extinguisher is going to do it.”


He shrugged. “I had to try it.”

I brought my hands in front of my chest, focusing all the energy t my palms. A shimmering blue ball formed, sending sparks between my fingers. We were too far away for me to trust myself with throwing it. Jason tried to stop me from walking up to the window. Gently placed the bomb on the glass and ran.


The energy ball exploded, shattering the glass and the wall with such a force that it sucked us out with the debris. The ground came quickly. Being only four floors up didn’t give us enough time to unfurl our wings.

Jason pulled from a bush. “You okay, my love?”

Though I was covered with cuts and my wings pierced, we were free. “Never better.” I smiled.


Jason found the disoriented wobbling away caught him. “Trust me. You don’t want to be here when they get out.”

We ran behind the building and to the river. The glamour I had used to mask the boat still held. With a swipe of my hand, the engine roared to life. Almost instantaneously, Jason had the boat untied and shoved us off into the water away from the burning Dunbar Facility.