by submission | Jul 21, 2013 | Story
Author : Holly Jennings
They came for me when I was fifteen.
“The kid can hit a target 250 yards out,” they'd said. “Doesn’t even have training.”
I figured they wanted me for the army, some kind of special ops maybe.
I was wrong.
The girl was school-aged. Barely. Five years old, maybe six. Black hair, almond-shaped eyes. A white fur coat. She stood with her parents in front of a parliament building. Red carpet beneath their feet, velvet ropes to hold back the masses. Cameras flashed in the crowd. A miniature movie star, if I hadn’t known better.
The only daughter of a powerful political family. In twenty years, she would become a vital leader in the Far East. Why had the Oracle told me the girl's fate?
I focused down the scope on target. Less than 100 feet. An easy shot. She wouldn't even feel it.
Adjust for wind.
Overhead, the country's flag fluttered in the heavy breeze. The sound rippled through the air like an erratic heartbeat. Or was that mine?
The girl stepped sideways and the crosshairs centered over her heart.
My mouth went dry.
Why couldn't it wait until she was an adult? Hell, even a teenager? At least until she loved and lost a little, laughed and cried over something more than Barbie dolls.
I watched her parents wave goodbye to the crowd of cameras. They led the girl up the concrete stairs of the building.
Take the shot.
She smiled. Dimples filled her cheeks.
Just another target.
I took a breath and held it.
Shoot.
My finger trembled on the trigger.
You're stronger than this, old man.
She jumped to the top step, laughing, hand-in-hand with her mother.
Last chance.
Teddy bear barrettes. Pink fingernails.
A female leader. Didn't that mean something?
They disappeared inside.
I stared down the scope long after they were gone. The Oracle who'd sent me would be pissed, if she even had any emotion left.
The trigger locked, I'd tell her. Someone stepped into my line of sight. Could she see through lies the way she saw through time?
Back at the agency, I took a knee before her, but the words wouldn't form in my mouth.
“I couldn’t…” I looked down at the ground and crushed my knuckles against it, unable to face her.
The Oracle sat limp on her throne, strung up like a marionette, cords draping from her arms, neck and temples. Each led to a different computer screen portraying the varying timelines of futures that still existed. One featured the girl, alive and well, dimples nestled in her cheeks.
The Oracle stood and walked down the steps to me, cords stretching behind her like tentacles. She took my head in her hands and tilted it up until I met her eyes.
“It's ok, Richard,” she said, soothing tone, angel voice. “I couldn't have done it either.”
Her words went straight through my heart. “You knew this would happen?”
“I wouldn't be much of a psychic if I didn't.”
“Then why send me? What benefit to humanity did it serve?”
She smiled. “To prove that some of it still exists within you.”
zp8497586rq
by submission | Jul 20, 2013 | Story
Author : Marie DesJardin
The Chevy wagon rattled down the narrow road, its twin beams lighting the underside of the leafy branches that hugged the highway like a mossy cave. Dot blinked in the passenger seat, her gaze idly following the yellow centerline that snaked beyond the range of the headlights. David's eyelids were heavy, but his knuckles whitened on the wheel each time the car plowed through a patch of bumper-high mist.
Random shapes loomed up periodically by the roadside. Retreads. Possum. Shoe. A red trail pointing to a dark mound off the shoulder. Dot's brain logged it sleepily: turtle. Poor thing. The headlights passed over it.
Something shaggy burst from the woods at their right and dashed across the road.
Dot jumped in her seat. “Watch out!”
David swerved frantically, but the thing doubled back in front of them. With a bang, the Chevy connected. The engine raced as the transmission jumped into neutral.
“Cripes!” David braked to a stop. Dot looked out the rear window. The red glow of the taillights illuminated a lumpy stain near the centerline. Tendrils of mist curled over it.
David sounded breathless. “It ran right out in front of me.”
“I know. You couldn't have avoided it.” Dot bit her lip. “Oh, David, I feel awful!”
Frowning, David tested the shifter. “Honey, whatever I hit, it's dead.”
Dot was firm. “We have to make sure.”
“Oh, all right.” He put the car in reverse. “Just watch out it doesn't bite you— in case it isn't dead.”
The gravel on the shoulder crunched as they approached the blotchy kill site. “Whatever that was didn't hold together very well.” The car drew even with the thing, started to pass it. “Where are you going?”
“If you're going to look at it, you’ll need some light.” David stopped the car far enough back so the lights clearly illuminated the casualty. For a moment the couple simply sat there, the car's engine panting like a dog over its kill. Then Dot said, “David, it's green.”
David stared. “Maybe I hit a bush.”
“Yes. Lots of those running into the road.” Dot opened her door.
David looked startled. “Where are you going?”
“To look at the bush.”
“Get back here!”
Dot slammed shut her door, then walked through the beam of headlights. She circled the flattened object slowly.
“So, what is it?” David called through his window.
“I don't know. I can't find its head.”
With a sigh, David stopped the engine and stepped out. “Phew!” He checked the pavement to make sure he wasn't getting anything on his shoes. “The Chevy really smeared this thing.”
“I can't figure out what it is. It looks like gooey grass clippings.” Dot nudged a sticky edge with a toe. “It sure looks dead, though.”
David straightened, relieved. “Okay, you've done your duty. I'll check the car and—”
Dot heard a whine behind them. Glancing back, her eyes opened wide. “David, duck!”
#
“Watch out!”
There was a bump, and something dark splashed over the rounded hood of the propulsion unit.
“Ew, nailed it.”
“Both of them.” The grassy blob twisted around in the passenger seat to look out the rear viewscreen. The vehicle continued to speed silently down the center of the road about four feet off the ground. “Aren't you going to stop?”
“Not until we find Junior,” said the shrub-like object behind the steering device. “These big hairy-headed things are all over the place tonight.”
“Well, I hope Junior stays away from them.” The grass clippings quivered its eyestalks. “Look at the stuff they left on our hood. It's red.”
zp8497586rq
by submission | Jul 19, 2013 | Story
Author : C.T. Jackman
The jungle reminded me of home. The long periods of silence between its trees were occasionally broken by sharp shrieks and violence that ended the monotony, but perpetuated the tension, and the muggy, cramped space forced me to constantly check my path underneath the everlasting presence of watchful eyes and stinging pain, though thankfully this time the pain came from bugs and not a belt.
Everything around me jacked my blood pressure through the roof, and I’m sure that fact only made things easier for the parasites to find me and pick me apart. I swatted one that landed on my cheek, and I felt its guts smear across my stubble. Trying to rub it away probably just added to the grime, as the mud and sweat that soaked my gloves certainly didn’t make for a sanitary wipe.
A shrill bird-call echoed through the canopy, and I dropped to a knee. My eyes scanned the trees as my finger crept towards the trigger of my particle rifle. I slowly exhaled, then took in one sharp breath and held it to steady my aim. When nothing appeared, I exhaled again and called out to my partner. “Buck,” I said into the trees, quickly and quietly.
After a tense moment, I received an answer from my left. “Yeah, buddy?” he whispered back.
“Just wanted to find out where you were, so I don’t accidentally blow your head off.”
I heard him chuckle. “I hear ya.”
Knowing that the rescue crew wouldn’t appreciate the two us squatting in jungle all day, I rose to my feet and pushed further through the brush, hoping that we were still on the right track. The locators on our belts would tell them where we were, but having lost our only compass in an eel-infested river a couple hours ago, we couldn’t tell where we were ourselves.
I kept my gun trained on the shadows ahead, every once in a while checking my six. I heard the groan of branches overhead, and a quick somersault was all that saved me from getting crushed by the ton of fur, teeth, and muscle that burst through the treetops. I was already running by the time I caught a glimpse of it; with four arms and fangs to spare, it was one bad ape. I hoped to God that it was slower than it looked.
Leaves and vines whipped my face as I ran through the darkness, the ape in close pursuit. My lungs were heaving in the warm air, and my only thoughts were of a place to hide from the angry monster behind me. The toe of my boot snagged on a rock, and before I knew it, I was sent careening to the ground. I knew that the jungle finally had me when my I looked up and saw my rifle three yards away. The beast’s roar filled my ears, and it beat four meaty hands against its chest. I had a second to imagine it beating me to death the same way, but instead of getting pulverized, I heard three sharp blasts of energy and felt a shower of warm liquid against my skin. A half-second later, the ape fell to the dirt next to me, dead. I rolled onto my back, and found Buck standing over the two of us triumphantly. The barrel of his own rifle had smoke drifting from it and he offered me a hand.
“You never know what to expect here, do you?” he asked.
“No sir,” I replied, grasping his hand before getting to my feet. “Just like home.”
zp8497586rq
by submission | Jul 18, 2013 | Story
Author : Bob Newbell
It was five years ago today that I was awakened by my wife's screaming. I remember leaping out of bed yelling, “What's wrong?! What is it?!” I also remember seeing a woman I didn't recognize staring at me in shock and fear.
“Who are you?! What are you doing in my bed?!” she had exclaimed. “Steve, get in here!”
The voice, I'd thought to myself. That was Amy's voice. And the nightclothes the woman had been wearing were my wife's. I recall looking at the woman's hair, her lips, her eyes. The individual components of the face were Amy's. But somehow they combined to form the face of a stranger. I remember seeing her reaching back toward the drawer in the nightstand. I kept my gun there.
“Amy!” I'd said. “It's Steve! I know it's you but for some reason I don't recognize you either!”
We spent the next few minutes quizzing each other about our past until it became obvious who we were despite appearances. That was when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Steve, it's Tim. We need you at the station now. It's urgent.”
“Tim, can it wait? Something's happened to me and Amy. I think we need to go to the hospital and get checked out. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but–”
“You don't recognize each other.”
I was stunned. “Yeah, Tim, how did you–”
“Steve, get down here.”
I remember going to the police station and being greeted by apparent strangers. They inspected my badge, my driver's license, and my police photo ID. They asked me a few questions that it would have been all but impossible for anyone but me to answer correctly. Convinced it was really me, they sent me over to my boss.
“Steve?”
“Tim?”
“Yeah, it's me. We've got pandemonium out there. I need you out on patrol. National guard is being mobilized, too. We've got a lot of scared people. We've had thirty shootings or stabbings of relatives mistaking one another for intruders in the last hour alone. Emergency rooms are being overrun. President's gonna address the nation in 15 minutes. Just audio, though. They're just gonna show the presidential seal on TV while he speaks. White House is afraid that a strange man no one's ever seen before identifying himself as the President would make things worse.”
Things got worse anyway. Much worse. Martial law had to be implemented in most countries. The global economy collapsed. The medical community called it prosopagnosia or “face blindness”. In a single moment, the human race lost the ability to recognize faces. Brain scans showed damage to a structure in the brain called the fusiform gyrus. There are several theories as to how it happened but no one really knows. Some sort of infection couldn't simultaneously strike every man, woman, and child on Earth. An attack by aliens and divine punishment are two of the more popular explanations.
We tried picture ID badges for a while but those are too easy to fake. We ultimately had to chip the entire human race. Having your wrist scanned has become a ritual observed a dozen or more times a day. Funny how quickly we all got used to it.
No one born after The Masking, as it's come to be called, appears to have been affected. Their facial recognition ability is intact. Still, newborns are chipped right after the umbilical cord is cut because we don't know if it will happen again and have no way of reversing it. Anonymous relatives, unfamiliar friends, unidentified celebrities and historical figures. That's the world we now live in.
zp8497586rq
by submission | Jul 17, 2013 | Story
Author : David Stevenson
The ship got her name one time when she had to leave planet in a hurry.
Usually “in a hurry” is a euphemism for “got into trouble”, but this was long before any of the shenanigans and high jinks which she became famous for. This time she really was in a hurry; her navigator, not long after filing a flight plan, noted a rare conjunction between the planet’s moons and the wormhole inlet. If they lifted within the hour then they could shave several days from their journey time and take advantage of a business opportunity at their destination.
Yes, “business opportunity” is usually shorthand for “downright thievery”, but that hadn’t started yet either.
So, having decided to change his new ship’s name, and realising that the signwriter had spelled it wrong, but having to leave in a hurry before it could be fixed meant her captain was in a foul mood as he lifted off in the newly named “Orion’s Blet”.
The ship was a decommissioned Pounder Class left over from the recent war. It was the most common type of ship in the navy, and tens of thousands of them were sold off for civilian use, all virtually identical, and all trying to eke out a living from the same well-worn trade routes.
During that maiden voyage the captain’s mood lifted substantially. To make use of the conjunction required some quite impressive navigating from the frankly not very impressive navigator. He hit the sweet spot exactly when and exactly where he should have. On the other side of the wormhole they found themselves in an asteroid cluster which wouldn’t have been there 3 days later if they had stuck to their original flight plan. Astoundingly, they not only made it safely through, but located two valuable naval wrecks which could now be marked and claimed for salvage. Making it to their destination in time to seal the business deal was a further bonus.
At this, the captain decided that the ship should never be renamed. Whilst stating that he was a man of fact and logic and didn’t believe in superstition, he started muttering about “quantum pre-destiny”. There were so many virtually identical ships, many of them doubtless with similar names, but this one was obviously unique. We live in a multiverse where every decision budded off a new universe with one little change. His ship’s name, and therefore the whole universe he found himself in resulted from a tiny misfiring of a neuron somewhere in a signwriter’s brain. Here, painted right on the side of the ship where it could be seen, was incontrovertible proof that he wasn’t in any of the “also-ran” universes, but already in one where he was proven to be special.
Thus began a glittering career as a smuggler and a pirate. The captain became more convinced with time, as the ship engaged its erstwhile sister ships in battles and won on every occasion. Whether this was due to luck, whether it was due to the gradual de-decommissioning that took place as weapons were acquired and added on, or whether it could be attributed to the confidence which gradually crept through the crew as they all came to believe they were invincible, no one will ever know.
After 5 years of increasing success the captain’s theory was proven right when they engaged in battle with and were blown out of the skies by the “Onion’s Bell”
zp8497586rq
