Seed

In the vacuum of space no one can hear you scream.

His dream fading, assaulted by Klaxon horns blaring pounding him out of suspended animation.

Deep in a dream he’d had a hundred times he fought the intrusions; this dream never failed to make him smile even while in deep suspended sleep.

Fighting to stay in his dream more noise invaded, voices, one he vaguely remembered, a female voice, not a living voice but that of the onboard computer.

“Commander Russell; Emergency awakening, Alert L249 intruder alert, Hull breach in section S125” Eyes dried caked closed he raised an arm to rub them. “What? What’s happening?” He croaked on a dry throat.

“Emergency; Hull breach, intruder alert section S125; I’ve initiated an emergency wake cycle Commander Russell.”

Sitting up, with waves of dizziness, nausea inducing spins, hands on both sides of his head Klaxons horn blasting his ears. “Computer end alarms sound!” he yelled over the cacophony.

Silence.

Confused it took him a moment to remember where he was; Argo, a medium large cargo ship in route to just beyond the known mapped universe.

“Computer; no no, Claire report.”

“Commander Russell I’ve initiated an emergency wake cycle due to a hull breach in section S125, Intruder alert lower level two moving to level three and now entering level four.” “We have dropped from light speed to sub light speed.”

“Claire lock all sections, initiate protocol Zebra one nine, release the sentinels.” “Claire emergency wake the crew.” “Unlock the armory; flood levels one through four with Neurotoxins, seal all ventilation ducts, lock everything down, down tight.”

“Danger, danger computer breach, danger danger computer breach.”

“Claire decentralize computer controls; Claire… Claire.”

“Computer lockout initiated; Environmentals locked out at 77%, Telemetry 5%, Sentinels 75%, all minor controls 85%.” “We are at idle, we are drifting in space.”

“Claire can you give me visual on the intruders?”

“On monitor five; Entering engineering door E1522.”

Monitor five sparked to life flooding the small commander control area with bright red light as the intruders used plasma torches to cut through door E1522 sparks bouncing off walls and ceiling tiles.

“WTF” Hallway filled with strange beings, four legs, squat bodies, two heavy muscular arms. Three pressed tight to door E1522 pulling at the cut metal ripping pieces with each movement. Strong, very strong rang in his head.

“Claire cut all power except to level eight through ten, minimum environmental those levels only”

The lights blinked off on the monitor screen leaving only the red glow of the torches. Red light fading as plasma torches used the remaining oxygen; intruder’s hands rising to facemasks going on individual air supplies.

“Claire what’s the progress on the crew emergency awakening procedure.”

“Minute 10 of 45; proceeding at emergency levels, medical status satisfactory.”

“Claire I don’t see any sentinels, report progress.”

“Telemetry at 5%, control and guidance degraded; contact interception estimated in five minutes.”

“Set attack level at lethal”

“Setting sentinel attack levels at lethal; Sentinels responding level lethal.”

“Okay, okay they breathe regular air and don’t mind a full Neurotoxin level” “Claire fill all areas with thick dense fog; let’s give the sentinels a fighting chance.”

“Filling clouding gases now.” The monitor screen went white with clouds of dense fog agent.

Lightning flashed blinding in the white out conditions of the monitor; sentinels firing at point blank range into the intruders. Bright flashes filled the screen; drones filled the upper reaches firing down into the melee. Squat AI fighters scrambled under tables firing up into the lower areas as the intruders fought frontal and aerial attacking guards. Flashes fading; swirling clouds of white filled the monitor.

“Claire report attack results.”

“Five intruders killed, ten seriously injured, seventeen minor injuries detected; fighting strength reduced to 25% of original attack. Intruders have stopped their attack and are currently tending to their wounded.”

“Claire; freeze levels one to six, minus 50 degrees on my mark………….. Mark!”

“Levels one through six temperatures lowering; 32 degrees……. 25 degrees……. Zero……. Minus 10………minus 25…….. Temperatures level one though six standing at minus 50 degrees.”

“Claire report on intruders.”

“Intruders are deceased; no body functions are found in scans.”

“Claire where’s their ship; can you locate it?’

“Commander Russell unidentified ship approaching two light years away and closing; just showing up on long range scan.”

“Claire I’m gonna need some help, progress on emergency wakening?”

“Minute 30 of 45 proceeding at emergency levels, crew’s medical status maintaining at satisfactory levels.”

“Claire do you have complete control of guidance systems now?”

“Control at 90%, repairing damage; estimate complete control 10 minutes.”

“Is the enemy ship sending any identifying links?

“No International navigational signals are being sent; they are silent and cloaked sending no code in violation of International Space regulations.”

“Okay this is what I want to do; Arm torpedoes and space mines to identify that craft only; I don’t want anyone else tripping them. Jettison intruders bodies one at a time in a long spread pattern starting with a few and increasing in numbers dumping them all; jettison torpedoes in a wide flat arch aimed to the center where the enemy craft should enter the killing field. As they enter and their sensors find their attack crew bodies I want to go to light speed drawing them into the mines and torpedoes. Stand by to send emergency calls on all frequencies just before going to light speed. As the space mines explode I want to emergency deviate course to maximum deflection as the explosions blind them then drop all engines to zero and coast leaving no engine light to follow.”

“Mine and torpedoes armed; Sentinels clearing bodies ready to jettison to open space. Maximum emergency deflection at light speed estimated at 24% of initial path. Emergency distress calls at stand by on all frequencies and channels; waiting command.”

“Claire status?”

“Unidentified craft at light speed moving directly for our position; now dropping out of light speed distance one quarter AU and closing.” “Initiate Plan”?

“Initiate plan……..now!”

“Jettisoning bodies, standing by for mines and torpedoes; …….. Enemy craft closing; we are going to light speed in five four three two one … mines and torpedoes standing by showing green lights. Jettisoning full spread of mines and torpedoes………… we are at light speed. Mines and torpedoes are armed and ready at stand by full spread…….

“Claire any detonations of mines or torpedoes?”

“Negative, no mine or torpedoes have detonated”

“Claire what are they doing? Report”

“The craft is at sub light speed entering the debris field at this time using full power scanning; entering mine field in five seconds at current speed.”

“Mines five through eleven have detonated; torpedo one to eleven have closed to maximum destructive distance and discharged…….”

“Maximum course deviation deflection locked in, initiating now……. Stand by……. Engines to zero; we are coasting at light speed”

“Long range sensors reports craft has been destroyed, mines are continuing to explode on minimal sized debris. The craft has been destroyed.”

“Time to complete rebuild of all damaged systems?”

“Estimated at 10 hours with full crew supervision”

“Claire status of our cargo.”

“Cargo is stable and secure.”

“Claire resume course, start repairs immediately. Full crew meeting in two hours; medical status of crew?”

“Wakening is complete, crew status is satisfactory.”

Exactly two hours later in the little galley all eleven members of the Argo crew squeezed into the limited seating; this ship was never intended to have all crew members awake at the same time. Faces ranged from openly frightened to angry; small talk immediately stopped as Commander Russell stepped into the tight quarters.

“Good day everyone; Claire please record.”

“Recording Commander Russell.”

“I’m sorry you’ve all been woken long before normal waking dates. As you know we’ve been attacked by unknown beings; we have numerous repairs to make to the ship and I can’t be sure we will not be attacked again. We will shortly break up into repair parties and I expect every member to work until all repairs have been finished; the next attack could happen at any time.

Commander Russell briefed the crew in minute detail of the attack and damage to the ship. Finishing, he pointed out three things that he had no answers too: One, how did the intruders dock with the ship and not set off any alarms? Two, the hull had been breached without alarm? Three, we are in open mostly uncharted space with few if any outposts in this section, how did they find us without a beacon?

“It’s my opinion that our security had been breached prior to leaving our loading facilities, no security alarms were tripped until they reached the engineering compartment. Those security alarms are not shown on our ship schematic. I and Mr. Williams will be doing a spacewalk looking for tracking beacons. Let us remember the precious cargo we are carrying. Questions? Let’s get to work.”

Dropping out of light speed repair parties began working and the space walk precautions were started.

Stepping out of the airlock Commander Russell and First Officer Williams slowly moved along the ship double hooking as they made their way aft.

“Claire full scan of the aft exterior of the ship, look for any slight divination in reading levels; we are looking for heavily cloaked devices.”

“Scanning now.”

“Commander Russell, I’m finding a small deviation in scan levels aft section two behind main engine one rocket nozzle.”

Moving along the left side of the ship, rocket engine nozzle one came into view, the coned shaped nozzle measured just over eighty five feet across and nearly sixty feet from base to burnt black upper edges. Deep shadows enveloped the thirty foot diameter base and a number of feet along the side of the ship with the little star light in this sector of space.

“What? Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” First Officer Williams gasped. “It’s not a beacon it’s a full assault vehicle!” “We’ve got nothing like this! I’ve never seen anything that looks like this vehicle.”

“Claire can you scan this vehicle?”

“I’m sorry Commander Russell, video clearly shows an alien vehicle, but scanning is 99.9% masked and blocked.”

“We are going to cut this vehicle loose, I’m going to need some extra help.” “I’m worried about a mass and proximity booby trap; if we just cut it loose it may be set to detonate. Have them set up a load simulator and bring it with them.”

Two and a half hours later labor parties had repaired the exterior hull damage and the alien vehicle had been readied for release into space. Four small vapor rockets had been attached to the bottom of the craft to gently lift the vehicle up and away from the Argo. The crew was ordered into escape pods and all decks were secured pending the release of the vehicle.

“Okay Claire we are as ready as we are going to get; cut it loose and fire rockets.”

“Plasma cutters engaged; the vehicle is freed; rockets fired.”

The craft slowly lifted from its hiding spot and slowly moved up and away from the hull clearing the rim of nozzle one.

“Claire gently move us away, continual distance updates.”

“Vehicle is 200 feet aft and 45 feet starboard; Vehicle 500 feet aft and 125 feet starboard; Vehicle is 1000 feet aft and 250 starboard; Vehicle is 1500 feet aft and 400 feet starboard.”

“Claire one eighth impulse move us away, don’t jiggle it.”

“Vehicle is one mile aft and 1500 feet starboard.”

“Claire full shields NOW!”

“Minimal distances achieved for shields; full shields engaged. Vehicle is two miles aft and 3000 feet starboard.”

“Claire turn off the mass simulator, with five second count down on my mark.” ”Russell to crew; you can clear rescue pods.”

“Five second count down on your mark; ready on your command.”

All eleven crew members pushed for a clear view of the monitors watching the alien vehicle slowly fading in the distance.

“Claire distance?”

“Vehicle is 100 miles aft and two miles starboard.”

“Mark.”

“Five, four, three, two, one.”

The flash blinded the video for just over ten seconds in pure white light slowly fading at the edges to red then orange speckled with white fading to swirling red orange reaching out towards the fleeing Argo. Alarms blared; electromagnetic pulse, shield bulge, heat alarms.

“Whoa………. Now that was a show. Get a bite to eat and back to work people.” “I want all 1500 cargo containers checked and verified; make sure they are all okay.” Russell quietly ordered.

Eight hours of hard work finished the ship repairs; the damage was relatively slight after the hull breach as the intruders cut doors and seals heading to the engineering section to take over the ship. The main battle areas were pock marked by small and large caliber rounds, plasma rifle scorch marks blackened walls, floors and hallway ceilings as the sentinels pursued the attackers as they dragged their wounded towards their cloaked craft.

“Claire I want a full diagnostic of all programs; find what they did to our security program and fix it.”

“Full diagnostic implemented; estimated time to completion 18 hours.”

“Claire continuous maximum scans; don’t let them sneak up on us again.”

“Continuous full scans initiated.”

The ship and crew fell into normal routes as the hours passed as the ship ran at Max 1.25 light speed towards the farthest reaches of the known mapped universe.

Commander Russell send private messages to every crew member acknowledging the troubling thoughts of each person on board; once taken out of the prolonged sleep cycle they could not return. Unless they found an outpost or a passing ship they would all die long before reaching their destination now 85.7 light years away. He asked each member to decide their preference and privately give him their decision; the ship could run cloaked and autonomously in the far reaches of the universe with little to no chance of being discovered on its course.

Breaking the calm of the bridge, shrieking alarm horns followed by Claire’s announcement; “long range scans detecting vessel at 2.75 light years distance closing on our position, running at just over 3.45 light speed.”

Commander Russell ran to the control room. “Red alert, Battle stations, full shields, full cloak, lock the ship down.”

“All systems green, battle stations manned and green, cloak/shields full power, ship is in total lockdown.”

“Claire who has a ship that can run at 3.45 light speed? No non-nationals have such ships. Can you get an I.D. on it yet?”

“Captain Russell my records only show International Federation ships listed as main Battle line Heavy Cruisers or bigger having the capabilities to run at that speed, no others listed.” “We are currently 12.2 light years outside of Federation controlled space in open non regulated space.” “Long range scans are showing an immense vessel casting a large scan image; stand by, just coming into our normal scan range.” “Scans show ship I.D’ed as Heavy Battle line Cruiser of International Federation design. Closing speed 2.2 light speed; they will intercept in twenty minutes.”

“Claire drop our speed, maintain us at just under light speed; let’s see what they want. All stations stand by to fire all weapons.”

“Hailing us now on all international frequency’s”

“This is the Federation Ship Winston, please identify yourself.”

“Claire sent all identification details, and destination.”

“Argo we are investigating an apparent battle with numerous casualties; we’ve detected a large explosion and traced your ship from that space.”

“Claire send them the full report on our contact and ship logs to this point.” “What’s their position to our ship; bring it up on the battle scope.”

“Two hundred miles aft and slightly starboard.” “Claire maintain that distance and ready for fast maneuvering.” “Let me know if they change distances.”

“Argo drop speed to .50 sub light speed we are detaining you until our investigation is finished. Please respond.”

“Winston this is Commander Russell; we’ve sent you the full report with verifiable star dates and times that we’ve been attacked and responded. We are in non regulated space in route to our destination with a highly perishable cargo. We are not bound by any Federation laws or regulations in open non regulated space. You may contact our main Company and place a complaint, but we will not delay our course any further. We’ve been forced to wake our full crew and we have six members that would like safe passage to the nearest Federation post as space bound refuges.”

“Argo we will accept your refuges; please shuttle them over now.” “Stand by for further instructions.”

The six crew members boarded a small escape pod and waited for a window in the shields to open to drop back to be picked up by the Battle Cruiser shadowing the Argo.

“Argo we have your people. Please drop your shields to be scanned.”

“Winston this is Commander Russell we will not drop our shields and any attempt to force scan this ship will be regarded as an aggressive assault against a licensed vessel in open non regulated space; you have no right to detain or scan this vessel.”

“Argo drop your shields to be scanned; we are investigating an incident you were involved in and you will be detained until that investigation is completed. We have found unexploded space mines and torpedoes that are not registered in any Federation data base or approved to be carried in any vessel traveling in Federation space. Force will be used if you refuse to comply.”

“Alert! Commander Russell they are releasing drones; if they surround us they will bleed off our shields and we will be without shielding defensives.”

“Claire drop cloak on all weapons; open weapon bay doors, prepare to fire. Cross the T on my command and fire all weapons.” “Let’s show them what we got and see if they really want to play.”

“Argo this is the Federation Cruiser Winston you will drop you weapons and shields or we will fire on you.”

“Winston this is Argo, you can see we are more than able to defend ourselves; you will stand down or we will destroy you.” “We carry the new Kessler array and your shields are useless against this weapon. Stand down now.”

“Commander Russell drones are twenty seconds from being in position to attack our shields.”

“Claire fire the Kessler array and cut them in half; fire both arrays.”

“Drones have been sliced in half within their shielding; fuel cells are exploding contained within craft shields. Six drones have been destroyed. Debris fields expanding in open space now.”

“Claire target their bridge; make sure they can see targeting data; stand by to fire.” “Claire cross the T Mark!”

Crossing the T turns the ship sideways to the oncoming vessel allowing all weapons a clear field of fire the full length of the vessel while limiting the approaching vessel only access to their frontal weapons.

“Argo cease fire, cease fire! This is first Officer Jennings we are standing down.” “We are dropping shields to allow scanning to show our weapon systems are off line.” “We have ceased all aggressive actions towards your ship. Acknowledge.”

“Claire cloak the weapons bays; Maintain targeting, return to course, stand by to go to light speed.”

“Winston we are in open non regulated space, we are returning to our course and speed, any further aggression will be met with lethal response without notice.”

“Argo you are free to go, we regret our misguided actions and acknowledge we are in non regulated space. Our logs will be sealed to protect your route and reviewed for disciplinary action against command staff. Safe travels and gods speed Argo.”

“Winston thank you for taking in our people; the remaining crew will live out our lives maintaining this ship and its cargo. Good day.”

“Claire bring us to light speed. Mark.”

The Argo continued its mission without incident and delivered its cargo to Planet 19129 a large earth like planet 17 light years beyond charted space in 89 years and three months. Maneuvering into orbit Argo failed to respond to hails from the forward party. Docking parties discovered five bodies in sealed caskets and Commander Russell’s skeletal remains in the Command module.

The Argo’s cargo was found in perfect condition and one month later a sister ship arrived and came into orbit with the second half of the shipment.

As controversial as the seeding program was the new earth like planet welcomed its new human population with fair weather and ample food supplies. The forward party had three years to build accommodations for the children before their arrival and they settled in on a rich bountiful new world.

The Argo mission and records are now taught in school with a memorial erected in the courtyard of the small settlement for the doomed crew.

From the Ramblings.

t

Plague

I have to tell you I don’t want to write this; my heart is broken; not really broken, crushed. I really thought since I lived to be sixty I’d pretty much had it made; bullet proof. I’d beat the threat of cancer, heart disease and pretty much anything else that could come along as you age. Then the world turned over; Global warming? Yeah now that’s a freaking joke.

I’m screwed; I’m all alone. My family is dead; neighbors are all dead, what the hell am I suppose to do? I have to tell you I’m thinking of taking my own life rather than face what will become shortly; how I’m I gonna feed myself? Grow a damn garden?

I’ve decide to write this journal; I found a plain white paged hard sided notebook; I’ll write until I make up my mind, what difference it really makes I don’t know but it just seems like the right thing to do?. I’ll sit under my little light and write this shit down; it fills the hours until bed time and keeps my mind from wanting to end this crap with a loud bang.

Let me lay out what has happened to this point; the most important stuff won’t take long; I ask that you read this journal to the end; I’ll put my most into it and hope not to bore you, times have changed.

Ebola, Rabies, Plague, Cancer the list goes on forever and new things jump on the list every month of the year. The newest is Zika, a virus that they thought was only transferable by mosquito’s bites; then through sexual transmission; now respiratory infection. The third world is all but dead or in the process of dying. But that’s not what took my family and the whole neighborhood in ten days.

I don’t think there is a name for it at this point, least one that’s stuck yet; who the hell really cares; they’re gone, my world has ended. My wife started coughing with a little congestion on January 17th, my daughter started up two days later; they both died in five days; five days, January 24nd marking the worst day of my life; do you have any idea what it’s like to have the woman you love and your only child dead? I walked around the house undecided what to do in a fog for hours.

I buried both my wife and daughter on the high side of the yard next to the fence; it’s the flattest area in our yard and the soil was pretty soft with the heavy rains of January. I had some concrete I’d picked up from down the street, a driveway was being replaced a few months ago, I had the thought of using it as stepping stones along the deck to the lower door to my shop; I used it to cover the swollen earth from my digging to cover the graves making them secure.

My neighbors haven’t fared any better; Buck’s wife died a day after my family died. I stood with him and talked about the future as we dug the hole; He was very depressed and told me his son was sick in the house. I helped bury his son two days later just a few feet from the broken ground of his wife’s grave.

Sitting in my family room just before dark; a family room without any family, I heard a single loud blast from what I think was a shotgun; it was close by, I’ll have to go check on Buck tomorrow after the sun comes up; I think I’ll be digging another grave tomorrow morning.

I’m alone now; one dog, two cats and four chickens, no family and no neighbors; they’re all gone. I wait for my time to come; I’m concerned with the animals. As soon as I think I’m coming down with the pox I’ll have to start leaving the doors and gates open so the animals have a half assed chance at survival when I’m gone. I’ll break open all the bails of bedding and dump the feed out so they can get to it; I hope to give them a fighting chance; it’s the least I could do for them.

All the news talks about is the plague; how many have died, how many are suppose to die. They’ve decided to just call it the plague like in the dark ages; we’re in our own dark ages now.

The news and TV is getting sketchy with long dead spells; the power went out yesterday for a full hour; then came on for ten minutes and then out for another two hours; I don’t think they have enough crews left to fix stuff as it goes down.

My Iphone 6L went off this morning with an emergency warning that power and telephone service might be interrupted; it’s been stone cold dead for three days; no signal no facebook nothing, why would they send out a warning when it’s been dead now for days? Crazy.

I pulled my two generators from the garage around the side of the house to the deck; the Traeger needs power to work; smoking all the elk and salmon in the freezers on the Traeger hoping to keep the meat good. I’ve got ten gallons of pure gas to run the generators, I hope it’s going to be enough to smoke everything and preserve what I’ve got or it’ll go bad fast.

Smoke billowing from the Traeger on the deck I heard a pounding on the front door; Sick guy coughing up huge globs of shit wanting something to eat. I cut a nice section of half cooked meat off the traeger and he went away; I hope he dies happy with a full stomach.

I’m so depressed; walked down the street slowly looking at all the houses. Most seem to be empty no movement; I can’t see any light from camp lanterns on inside; powers been out for six days straight. No smoke from wood stoves or cars on the street; I think the extended neighborhoods dead also.

Five houses down Ben’s laying dead in his driveway; no one’s stopped to bury him; I’m just too tired to dig another hole; my heart breaks, he’ll have to lay where he is; so sad.

I don’t know what I’d do without my animals they are the only company I have now; god I love the hell out of them. I realized there must be dogs and cats locked in houses as their owners have died. I’ve been going door to door down the neighborhood pounding on front doors to see if anyone comes to the door or if I can see any sign of animals in the house trapped. My biggest fear is that I kick a door in to save a dog or cat and get shot by the home owner that is still alive; a risk I’m willing to take.

I seem to have a following; dogs I’ve freed walk along with me as I kick doors down and break windows; they greet those set free; I throw treats to give them, something to fill their stomachs as I move along. I don’t think there is anything I could do that is more important in this world; time is of the essence.

Two weeks; I’m not finding any more animals alive now, it’s just been too long. I keep looking but the rewards have stopped; I’ve got to stop taking chances of cutting myself or sustaining injuries that I can’t take care of; I’m totally alone now, except for all the animals. Some are starting to move away finding their niche in the new world; some going wild very fast preying on others and forgetting who saved them from their certain deaths locked in houses and businesses. It won’t be safe to walk the streets for very much longer I’m starting to see packs of dogs running together.

This is a whole new world I’m dealing with; I don’t think I can continue to stay in my home. I can’t heat all of it and the waters finally stopped running. I think it’s time to down size into my travel trailer and the truck. I think I’ll slowly head south towards the warmer weather and away from some dangers that I’ve thought of in my area. Power, gas, water and of course all the other services that we learned to count on have all gone dead. What worries me is the dam system along the Columbia River; I know no one is caring for those infrastructures and depending on how they were set when everyone died they’d be in danger of failing. I don’t think it would be a good idea to be anywhere in the area if that happens, plus Hanford is just up the River and could pose a real threat.

I pulled out Tuesday morning with my dog and two cats. I put the chickens into a little wire crate in the back of the truck; I hope they don’t mind the wind. I’ve got maybe sixty dogs running along the sides of the truck and camper.

It’s so funny to keep thinking in the way of what day of the week or month, now nothing depends on the day of the week anymore.

I’m really surprised that the roads are clear of stalled vehicles; I imagined millions of cars left along the roads and freeways. I guess when people started getting sick they all headed home; makes sense, who’d want to be on the road when you’re coughing up a lung. My next problem will be getting some fuel into the truck; there’s no power anywhere so I’ll have to rig up my own system to refuel.

Genius; pull all the wires out of the electrical box, fire up the 3000 watt generator and jump the wires from the generator and the whole gas station comes to life. “Fill it up? Why yes thank you.” Nothing easier; thirty minutes and I’m all gassed up with extra gas cans filled and back on the road. I’m so surprised with myself I can’t take the smile off my face. I should have gas available for years with it stored underground and easy to get to; one worry off my plate.

Food; now that’s been a real torment. I’m going to save and horde canned food until it goes bad; I remember that should be around 18 months so I’m stocking up on canned food for the near future. Nothing better than a nice can of peaches after dinner. I’m not liking the canned meat but it’s better than going without; Spam; it’s what’s for dinner ahahahhahaa Yuck. Stopped by a Pet Smart and loaded fifty bags of dog food and hundreds of boxes of treats into the truck; my tired boys and girls are sleeping on their bags of food as we drive along.

I’m not making at lot of mileage with the dogs having to keep up running a long side the truck and trailer. I’ve started stopping every few short miles and letting the slower older dogs hop up into the bed of the truck so we can move along without stopping constantly. We keep picking up new dogs along the as they see us going by and just can’t keep from running along with us. I throw box after box of dog treats out the windows all day long too keep their energy up. The new dogs are eager to run along the side of the truck looking in and smiling as I throw them more treats; I’m slowly building an army. I’ve run into what might be a problem in the near future; small dogs can’t keep up with the truck. I’ve got them stuffed in every nook and cranny in the trailer and bed of the truck; I’m running out of room.

I’ve run the pack as far as they can go; we need a few days off to recoup and build strength. A couple of the smaller dogs need some medical attention; they must have had to fight off bigger dogs and they have bite marks that need to be attended too.

I’ve decided to find a truck and trailer that can carry my hoard; I’ve got close to two hundred dogs with me now.

I’m slowly learning to be the pack leader; I’ve have to put down challenges to my authority or risk the larger dogs taking over and preying on the weaker little ones. Since I control the food I haven’t had to resort to violence yet, but I can see it’s going to come to a head shortly. I’ve got two large heavy dogs of some mixed breed that are pushing me on every decision that I’m making. They don’t like being told what to do and are showing aggression towards me.

I hated to do it but they gave me no choice; thank gawd I had a big stick, really a pick axe, or I’d be dead and all my dogs would be on they’re own. Breakfast came early, I wanted to get on the road and make some head way. The two big dogs snapped at the little ones trying to get their food; stepping between them they teamed up against me snarling and snapping. I had to beat them both half to death before they stopped coming at me. I wrapped them in blankets and laid them on the back of the truck; they growled and snapped but it was clear they’d been beat and didn’t want to fight any further; I’ll give them extra food and hope they make a full recovery; nothing seems to be broken just badly bruised.

I’m shaken; my two biggest dogs have attacked me. I just barely fought them off; what if three or more dogs decide to test me as leader, I won’t stand a chance. I guess I’d better start packing my firearms 24/7.

My luck is holding out, I found a flatbed truck with a huge trailer attached, even better it’s full of gas and started right up. The whole pack is now riding instead of running all day long. I’m making good progress towards Northern California stopping just to pick up more dogs as they run along the truck and trailer. I wish I had a picture of the whole mess; two hundred plus dogs, four chickens and my two cats riding shotgun, what a picture that’d make.

Making camp just outside of Yreka, California for the night; everyone is tired and hot from the road. I have so many food bowls the whole truck trailer is surrounded, makes me very happy.

Bellies full of food the big dogs 75 strong head out into the woods to look around and get some exercise since they now ride all day. I hate to think they maybe hunting but I don’t think they stray too far; miss the truck pulling out tomorrow morning is a death sentence and they all know it.

I’m going to head South down to around Mt. Shasta; lots of water and not far from towns I can slip down into to fill up on provisions. I’m hoping to find a nice small house or cabin with a big barn or multi door garage that will give shelter to all my animals I’m packing. After that I’ll just have to see where we all should end up for a permanent place. Lots to think about food, water, safety; I have no idea what to look out for in Northern California. Oregon has damns, nuclear dumps, Ammo dumps, all kinds of things that without care are going to spill or blow up. I’m now below all that and the winds should keep it all North of here if my guesses are correct, time is going to tell.

All the big boys and girls came back to camp just at sundown; they seem to be happy and I haven’t been challenged since the beatings in front of all the dogs. Under the truck and trailer is solid dog as far as the eye can see, everyone seems to now have a place and dog snores are filling the night. I’ve got an early start tomorrow; we will have to search to find the best place to make a home and I expect it to take a number of days.

Everyone is fed and watered we are pulling out just after dawn. Heading down the interstate I see the biggest Pet Smart I’ve ever seen. I pulled over a hundred beds from the store and we are now filled in every spot with dog food and treats, what a treasure trove; we are set for several days if not weeks. Stopping at a grocery store I’m stocked up on everything canned; getting tired of canned everything but it keeps us moving in the right direction without having to search for food.

Driving slowly along the I5 I have to wonder how I’m the lucky guy that the plague ignored; what special gift did I pick up along the way over my life of colds, flu and runny nose that the plague just can’t seem to break through; I haven’t seen another human being in nearly six weeks now, just me and my animals.

Pulling into Weed California driving very slowly though the empty streets winding around a few stalled cars and a few burnt buildings I’m surprised to see that the fires didn’t spread like you’d think they would; I wonder if maybe there was still snow on the ground here when the world ended for everyone but me.

Out of the corner of my eye I’m sure I saw a fleeting shadow, the dogs all start to bark and I stop as fast as I can without throwing the dogs around on the trailer. All the big dogs jump down off the trailer and truck staring down a long street I’ve stopped in the middle of. I see the shadow again moving between piles of debris and cars heading for cover, the dogs all see the same thing. A hundred and fifty plus eyes are now are looking at me; GET EM! I shout and all the dogs race down the street a cacophony of sound as they sprint after the phantom. Now I’m hoping I haven’t put my dogs in danger; I’m sure it was a human and would probably be armed and dangerous with over seventy five large dogs chasing them.

I can hear the chase as it goes between buildings and the sound wavers as it finds straight paths back to the truck and trailer then blocked by buildings and trees; whoever it is, is giving the dogs a good run.

Suddenly silence; my heart stops what if the dogs take the person down, hurts or kill them? I can’t leave the truck or the smaller dogs will start to try to jump down and it’s just too tall for them to make the jump. I stand at the side of the trailer looking down the long street hoping I haven’t caused a tragedy.

Minutes go by the silence is deafening; my eyes water looking for signs of my dogs and what they were chasing, dread fills my brain as my ears struggle to hear what’s going on.

I see one dog slowly coming out from a side street, blocks down, then more, the whole pack slowly turns the corner heading back for the truck and trailer; I see a figure walking head down defeated in the center surrounded by my pack of dogs. I pray to god that they haven’t hurt this person; my heart booms just seeing another human. I can’t wait to talk to him, learn his story, his survival against all the odds.

A few of my dogs run forward making a long line of dogs with the figure still slowly walking in the center of dogs. I start to pickup and off load all my dogs. Still a few blocks away I can now see that the person is clearly a she, her long red hair blows in the wind and the dogs seem happy not menacing. I call out and wave; my little dogs are racing down the street to join the crowd running in circles around her. She finally raises her head and looks towards my waving and calling to her. She gives me a slight wave and all the dogs start to bark and jump around; they know they’ve found a very special human.

Her name is Rose; I’m the only human she’s seen in weeks.

I think I’m in love; I’ve got to find us all a home now.

It took over an hour to get the excited dogs to calm down and load up, I’m the most excited. I fixed Rose a huge lunch and she says it’s the first good meal she’s had since the world ended.

Rose sits in the passenger seat of the truck with both my cats fighting for her lap; I hope we can all become a big happy family. Time will tell; wish me luck, I’m one happy guy. One world ends and another starts up; Rose calls me the dog man, that suits me just fine.

From the Ramblings; Plague.

t

5221

5221

 

Dispatch:            5221

Me:                      5221; Hwy 47, Greenville Rd, North bound.

Dispatch:            5221 Single car accident Hwy 26 approximately 4 to 6 miles west of the tunnel.

Me:                      5221 any further information; injuries?

Dispatch:            5221 no information available from caller; said he was stopped by a guy in the highway             

and asked to call 911 as soon as he found a phone booth.  Caller called from Staley’s Junction. 

 

Me:                      Copy; running code.

 

Dispatch:            5221 is running code at 18:21 hours.

 

I’m Mackenzie Clark, 5221, they call me Mac; let me give you some back ground so you know what, where, when and how come.  5221 is my call sign; Swing shift (52) and (21) is me, regardless of what shift I’m working I’m going to be (21).  With that high of a number it’s clear to all the jurisdictions that I’m a pretty new guy with the Sheriff’s Department; I just went past 18 months with the Department starting in late September of 1980.  All the Departments use the same radio channel regardless if it’s a city or the County.  To identify which agency dispatch is calling you have to throw in the 52 so everyone knows this call is going to the Sheriff’s Department.  If I was working day shift I’d be 5121 and grave 5321; the big cheese is the Sheriff and when 5100 comes on the air you know it’s the boss.  5101 Captain on day shift, 5102 Lieutenant, 5103 and on up a few numbers are Sergeants; you get the drift. 

 

Washington County, Oregon is a rather large geographical area and the west end towards the Coast Range is sparsely populated and has only a few small towns. One could say almost villages they are so small.  Closest town with any population and a Fire Department from the call area is Banks and it’s manned only by volunteers, there is no staff on duty.   When a call comes in the siren on top of the Fire Department building blasts and the volunteers rush to the Fire house, grab equipment and respond when they have enough people to man a truck or trucks.

 

Dispatch:            5221

 

Me:                      5221, Hwy 26 at Phil Rd, running code.  (Siren drowning out the words.)

 

Dispatch:            5221, Second caller reports injuries, possible fatalities.

 

Me:                      Copy, can you roll Banks.

 

Dispatch:            Bank has been notified, waiting for personnel to respond, estimating fifteen minutes to                    respond and roll.

 

 

 

Me:                      Copy, I’ll step it up, out running my siren.  (“Out running your siren” happens when you               

are driving so fast that vehicles can’t hear or react to your siren before you’re on them or passing them, you can only hope they see you coming.)

 

Dispatch:            5221 at 18:26 hours.

 

It’s been five minutes and I’m making good time, punched it up to 90mph, the new Impala is purring, happy at this speed, traffic is light, visibility is clear and the road is dry.  Wednesday early evening second week of April is not a busy time of the year on these back roads as you head up and over the Coast range to the beach.  Hwy 26 to the coast is a decently maintained road with few patches and wide lanes; west bound cars are few and they see the overhead lights well before I’m running past them at this speed. 

 

Me:                      5221 dispatch.

 

Dispatch:            5221

 

Me:                      Couple minutes to the tunnel and loosing radio contact.

 

Dispatch:            5221 Copy loosing radio contact; be aware Banks Fire has been unable to fill a team we are rolling Hillsboro Fire rescue estimated time to arrival 45 plus minutes.

 

Me:                      Copy, it’s the west end; at the tunnel.

 

Dispatch:            5221 at…………  (Cut off, dead air.)

 

 

Sweeping long turns, dropping the car back into the 70’s, these long curves won’t support anything more and I’m getting close to where the caller reported the accident.  Second long curve and a short straight stretch I can see a man standing on the right side of the road waving; I pass him going into the long curve rolling just over 60mph as I drop the siren reducing speed more.  At the far end of the curve, I can see three cars parked bumper to bumper along the left side of the road just a few feet off the pavement; there’s a long wide gravel area from the parked cars to the tree line along this section of road giving a good area to park away from traffic but they’re all bunched up next to the traffic lane, strange.

 

Grey Black smoke drifts from West to East across the road pretty much pin pointing the location of the wrecked car but I can’t see it buried deep in the trees from my approach.  Slowing I pull into the graveled area sliding slightly in the loose gravel as I break; I drive towards the drifting smoke stopping the car a good distance from the accident site not wanting to disturb any possible tire tracks etc. 

 

Welcome to my nightmare.

 

There are a couple things I notice right away as I step from my patrol car; no one is near the crash site lending aid. A small group of people are standing clustered by their vehicles a good 70 yards from the wreak by their cars up at the highway.  It’s a group of three people; I can see a man further up the Highway waving to slow traffic of trouble ahead. The small group gives me a little wave but no one walks towards me or the accident.  I can see the group is one man and two women, they’re just huddling together not moving, looking everywhere except towards the crash site.

The second thing I noticed are the Ravens eagerly eating in the gravel a few feet from the opening into the trees and about four more spaced in a line towards the cars parked along the highway. 

 

I take a couple pictures with the 35 mm as protocol dictates and slowly move forward taking it all in; I still can’t see the wreaked car as it was just inside the tree line which is blocking my view, if it wasn’t for the smoke drifting from inside the trees and across the wide gravel area, you’d never know it was there. 

 

A Raven takes to wing as I near it, there lays a large pile of puke that trails off towards the direction of the man that had waved at me earlier as I arrived.  I’m now close enough to see the other Ravens were also at splashes of puke; that little voice in my head started to groan.

 

The winds picking up a little changing from the West sweeping around to the North pushing the smoke down to a low level; I’m going to have to walk through the smoke to get into the slight hole in the woods that the wreak is someplace down in.  As the wind swings, I can smell the heavy sultry carbon smell of hot oil and some other smell I can’t quite make out, something sweet but strangely gagging at the same time, doesn’t smell like anti-freeze it’s something else I can’t quite identify.

 

The strange smell is still dancing digging on my mind as I round the last trees blocking my sight of where the wreak lies.  I’m about twenty feet out to the right of the tree line still walking in the gravel keeping way out where I can see a wide view taking 35 mm photos as I go.   I can finally see the wreak but it’s in shadows even though it’s now only about 20 yards distance, the smoke is obscuring, fogging the crash site swirling around being held tight by the thickness of the trees, one moment clearing then nearly completely obscured.  I stop taking two quick pictures recording the crash site and the depression in the woods the car has come to a stop in.

 

 I look towards the parked cars along the highway before stepping into the small opening in the trees. I see the smoke has swung around and is now pouring in a direct line to the cars parked up by the far pavement. 

 

Something’s strange out of place startling me; the man is bent over one of the women and the other woman I can’t locate.  I can only see the two by the side of the middle car, man over the woman his hands at her head, neck; Oh, she’s puking and he’s pulling her hair away from her face; I stand watching for a few seconds until she finishes, lots of dry heaves.  He opens the passenger door and she falls into the seat.  I finally see the other female, she’s sitting in the front car with her head down, I can just barely make her out as the smoke swirls.

 

Barbeque; the oily smoke is covering the sweet smell of what I associate with a barbeque; sweet earthy aroma but off somehow. 

 

That voice in my head is now getting loud, a constant high-pitched squeal.

 

I take the last few steps into the small opening to the rear of the wrecked car; I can’t make out the type of car other than there’s a Volkswagen emblem on the rear panel.  The smoke is thick this close coming from the middle of the wreak swirling and twisting into tight circles making it hard to see even now just five feet from the rear bumper.  It’s confusing the shape of the car is all wrong, way too short, the width is correct but the length is all off; then I realize, it’s a Volkswagen beetle maybe a mid 1960’s beetle, the front is pushed back smashed from the impact with the tree the whole car now only about five feet in length from tree to that V.W. emblem on the rear.  Engine compartment, passenger area is all combined and pushed together in a tight wad.  The roof is ripped from the A pillars, flipped over and inverted so the inside is facing up and twisted so pointing straight out to the right of the car flat like a flapping wing.  The car is sitting at an angle running up the side of the tree from the impact making it seem even shorter.

 

I realize my feet are getting wet, looking down, I’m standing in a pool of liquid maybe four inches deep pouring into my boots over the laces; but it doesn’t make any sense, it’s split neatly in two parts in a distinct line separating half the pool from the other.  Way back in my mind over the howling internal screams comes the old saying “Oil and water don’t mix” but this isn’t oil and water as the color returns to my eyes, one side is hot black oil, the other cooling glossy bright red blood.  I force my eyes away from the pool and back to the rear of the car; I don’t understand how shock works but I realized that I’d completely ignored the smashed twisted smoking wreak sitting before me and only focused on the pool of liquid.  Jumping out at me are three people jammed between the engine that had once been in the rear compartment now rammed forward jamming the front seats car into the dash and crushed windshield.  

 

Time went away; the smoke was choking making it hard to breathe, my mouth was dry.  I was mouth breathing fighting to get enough air, there was a deep roar in my head mixing with a high-pitched squeal that was hurting my ears; but something was pushing into my head riding just over the top of the din, I realized it was a voice “Deputy” louder, “Deputy; are you, all right?”  I turned, the sound blasting in my head dropped, I could hear the splash of my boots in the sickening pool as I turned; there was a young man standing a few feet from me his eyes on the wreaked car, eyes growing big as I watched, he blinked a couple times, he looked me in the eye then eyes slowly working down the front of my Uniform to my feet and the cooling gelling pool.  His face twisted into a knot as he spun running towards what were now four cars parked at the hard top.

 

The roar in my head of a few seconds ago ended completely in dead silence; I could hear the gravel under his feet as he ran to his car, door slamming, engine starting, tires spinning gravel as he raced away down the highway. 

 

I tasted barf, the space between my teeth and cheeks full.  I looked down at my hands, they were covered in puke, closer the front of my uniform is no longer brown but now shades of glistening barf.  The smell of oil, barbeque and blown bowels is gagging.  I could hear the ticking of the engine cooling behind me, splashes as fluids dripped into the cooling pool.  Everything was over bright hurting my eyes, the smoke has cleared, everything over sharp over exposed.  One ham sized arm of the driver riding along the driver’s door window sill, the tattooed forearm resting comfortably, elbow at a 45-degree angle against the stub of the front A pillar.  Head tilted back bright pinkish red at the eye line as something sharp had sliced his head in half from the eyes up, top wedge of his head hanging over the seat back connected by thin skin and membranes.  These people were huge, grossly overweight, obese.  A picture of a clown car flashed in my brain; I thought how could these people all fit in the front of this little car; then it hit me the center person a woman judging from the watermelon size bare breast the areola the size of my fist must have been riding in the back jump seat area.  She was now sprayed smashed across the tree, upper body flattened by the impact thinned by three quarters, her skull pancaked, teeth embedded into the bark, her lower legs pinned under the rear car frame, the motor ran up between her large ass cheeks cracked and burnt, heavy black oil smoke billowed between her ass crack drifting off into the trees. 

 

The screaming voice in my head was rising to a crescendo.

 

Number three occupant far right in the car was a woman, she was once huge, obese beyond possibility.  She rested arms sprayed over the hood jammed against her chest, head laying between her arms the car hood pushed back against her over the hood looking like she was resting comfortably on the metal of the hood.  Looking past and out into the trees she’d completely emptied her insides as they were hanging from low branches, intestines twisted grey trailing back into the car.  Shades of pulsating grey poured into my vision, deafened by the roar, high pitched shrill screaming.

 

I was shocked by the coldness of the water as they rinsed the puke from the front of my uniform using a hose and the water from the fire truck tanks, my Sergeant standing just out of the splash zone.  I rode the first rescue unit to the hospital alone, just me and the EMT sitting on the gurney in the back, we didn’t speak.

 

A day or so later my Sergeant visited me in the hospital; we talked a little about the crash.  He said I’d done a great job my first twelve pictures of the crash scene had turned out great but the rest of the roll of 36 exposures didn’t come out because the camera lenses was covered in puke and had been saved from the drenching by taking so many pictures the film had come off the roller and was wrapped tight in the film roll.  He said I’d taken 12 to 15 pages of notes in my notebook but they were unreadable being wet, soaked and soiled, only my diagram of the crash site was readable.  He told me the local paper had done a short article on the crash making me a hero suffering smoke inhalation trying to save the occupants. 

 

He had paperwork all filled out for me on the transfer out of Patrol Division moving to Corrections special teams at the first of the next month if I thought I was ready.

 

I wonder if I will ever be ready.

 

 

From the Ramblings

t

Sand

The heat was smothering at 115 degrees; it’d be cooler if there was any place to get out of the blistering sun; winds blowing in the 30’s gusting to over 45mph’s.

Flat as a pancake, the sand blowing up to four feet high offs the never ending flat dunes of scorching desert.

Punished to walk; sitting would put you in the blowing sand level were the particles tore at every fiber of clothing, pitting goggles, scopes, every piece of equipment.

Stumbling forward leaning into the winds progress was measured in yards not miles; foot prints disappeared in seconds as the shifting sands blistered polishing stones to a gloss finish in fine glass blown particles.

Vision obscured by height from the desert sand; two feet zero, four feet twenty yards, six feet above the blowing sands fifty yards dependant on the heavy gusts that brought the sands up into swirling clouds blanketing over everyone’s heads. Five lives tied together by light rope flapping in the heavy winds, fibers cutting away with every razor sharp sand particle rubbing abasing against the thin ropes.

Communication between beings defended by screaming winds and pounding heavy particles made even the thought of conversation ear shattering over the cacophony of the blowing winds.

Two hundred and fifty yards from the insertion point the winds split around a wind block; winds blowing left and right leaving a narrow alley of slower moving participles visible by the brightening clouds of lesser blowing sand and backwards dancing dust from the heavy winds made an alley to the base of the towering monolith.

Shouting above the roar Stevens screamed “Can you find the door; where’s the doorway?!”

Digging deep below the swirling stacking sands; dragging huge hands full of dry powdery sandy dust away from the upper recess of the doorway, five beings dug for their very lives as their suits filled with sweat and oxygen supplies fell from the heavy work. The winds sucked the light sand dust from the digging clearing of the doorway in a vacuum caused by the turbulent wind creating a huge whirlwind to form behind the monolith helping clear the door opening.

A small number pad appeared from under the sands; punching in the emergency code the door slid open dumping buckets of sand into the doorway. Jumping down into the open doorway the five shoveled pouring sand away from the door way finally allowing the door to close and lock in its tracks.

“Door closing…….. Sealed” Five bodies hit the flood in exhaustion.

“It’s five o’clock; dinner in thirty minutes, lamb chops in a light gravy with oven roasted asparagus and chilled Resling wine finished with orange marmalade on deck seven” “Would you like to make reservations the computer voice asked?”

“Yes, five for dinner” Master Sergeant Stevens said sliding his helmet over his head dropping it in the flattening spreading sands from the escape hatch.

From the Ramblings.

t

Micah

He awoke to the smell of mother earth’s rich deep sweet organic musky scent; a scent he knew well over the centuries, it comforted and calmed his mind as he awoke from death. Arms stiff and achy from the unnatural position they’d been placed in crossing his chest fingers interlaced, he slowly brought them up from his chest; crackling popping elbows he wiped the dust from his face. He knew he’d been buried in a well drained plot probably up the beautiful hillside overlooking the small town; the sweet damp organic smell so soothing to his nose told him so, no ammoniac stench of dank wet stagnate earth or hint of old penny metallic scent of desert sands.

From his death row prison cell window he’d seen the little cemetery up the hill; a smaller unfenced plot sat just outside of the enclosed manicured garden; having no headstones he’d deduced that the open plot held the bodies of prisoners who had died during their incarceration or been put to death as he would be in just a few days if the body wasn’t taken by family.

Taking in a deep breath of the sweet earth he relaxed slipping into the silent devils mantra that’d been burned into his memory as a small boy freeing his mind to wander as he waited knowing he’d be freed from his grave in the near future; his lips moved ever so slightly as he chanted the words, a small smile etched his scared face as a dry tear rolled down his cheek.

Deep in the mantra his thoughts flowing freely; he pushed back to the beginning when he was a very small boy lying frightened in his bed as shadows danced across the ceiling and walls; remembering his mothers angry words “Go back to sleep Micah, it’s nothing” he pressed his lips tight fighting his way into sleep, he deafened his ears to the screams, the hacking chopping sounds of his mother’s satanic murder only waking as the demon chanted the devil’s mantra deep into his mind as he was endlessly assaulted earning the devil’s mark. He remembered the pain growing in intensity until he finally screamed out; silence, not a sound in the dark, he lay still paralyzed by fear until the sun broke the horizon of the morning. Calling out to his mother he was answered only by the chilled morning air and a heavy bitter metallic coppery stench that filled the hut gagging him.

The Capital murder trial was cancelled when he’d plead guilty to the six horrific murders and waited only two months for the State to seat a twelve person penalty phase jury with four alternates in the case one or more of the jurors couldn’t make it through the horrible evidence that they would be shown. The jury would only deal with the penalty phase of the trial but would have to review all the States evidence. They’d only decide whether he’d be sentenced to life in prison or be put to death.

Called to the stand to testify everyone expected him to plead for his life. Glaring at the jury from the witness box he relived the glory of the slaughter clearly in his low cold voice, you could nearly smell the retching tic of blown bowels of the murder scene as he told his story in minute detail.

The fear was visceral in the Courtroom; his testimony coming to a crescendo he told how he stabbed and cut the victims their breaths coming in short moaning gasps, he sprang to his feet and shook the heavy chains that bound him. People in the galley jumped to their feet fighting each other as they piled up trying to escape through the small exit door; he roared in laughter, his deep dead voice shaking the room freeing fine dust from the overhead lighting. Jumping to his feet red faced the Judge bellowed orders at the bailiffs who couldn’t hear over the shrill screams from the men and women of the jury; armed security guards pulled their weapons pointing first at the laughing madman then at the screaming jury; it was chaos.

Taking his seat in the witness box he roared in laughter as the jury raced from the Court Room; he shook his chains one last time bringing fresh screams from the last jurors racing for the door hands over their ears. The Judge continued screaming orders then threats then orders for minutes until he ran out of breath; silence finally fell over the Court Room with the exception of the low deep rumbling giggles from the damned as tears rolled down his face in glee.

The Court lost three jurors that absolutely refused to return to the Court Room; seating alternates took two days as the Judge threatened them with jail time if they refused.

Seated next to his terrified Attorney the Jury found that if spared death he’d continue to be an unreasonable threat to those that he was incarcerated with or if ever released would pose an undue risk to the community; they voted for his death.

Before delivering the death sentence the Judge was compelled to allow the defendant a chance to address the Court.

Standing at the defense table Micah once a small scared boy now a huge man addressed the Court and the Jury; pulling his jail uniform shirt up he displayed the devil’s mark to gasps from the jury and gallery as his fingers caressed the outline of the mark. Speaking in a low rumble he promised they’d all pay with their lives for the decision they’d made.

His execution date was set and making no appeal the date came quickly, he walked proudly to the hangman’s noose; asked if he had any last words he stood silently slowly looking over the small group of witnesses staring into each of their eyes; nodding his head he spoke directly to each and every one of them; this was not the end, he’d give each a visit in which he’d slowly end their lives in the most grotesque fashion.

Placing the noose around his neck with the knot just to the right side of his neck the floor dropped away; falling five feet the rope made a snapping sound as his weight hit the end, stretching and rebounding he danced like a rag doll, lifeless.

The hangman left him swinging several extra minutes making sure he was very much dead. Anyone who’d been to a hanging before would have known that the slow methodical pace of the hangman and helpers was out of the ordinary as the drop from the platform should have snapped the neck and death nearly instant; they weren’t taking any chances with this one letting him hang as they slowly moved around the platform picking up stray items sneaking looks at each other keeping as far away from the dead man as possible; the body swung slowly on the rope in circles, each circle just a little less in the gloom of the death chamber.

Such a small noise but enough to bring Micah out of his whispering mantra; an intense smile slowly spread on his face, he could clearly hear a shovel digging into the earth; low barely audible he began to laugh freeing fine dust that swirled in the stagnate air sticking to his face with the vibrations of his laughing. What had the demon preached to him? Ahhhh……. Matthews 28:6 “He is not here, for he has been raised, just as he said.” That’s what they will find tomorrow morning and so very much more he thought laughing harder.

Timing it perfectly as the guard looked into his cell through the small opening in the door he acted as though he was hiding something in his mouth “What you got?! Don’t you swallow it, you hand it to me NOW!” The guard barked. Micah rose from his hard bunk, palm open he grasped the small object between his thumb and index finger, passing his hand through the door opening he dropped a small perfect diamond into the guards open hand. “What’s this?” the guard Williams said with disbelief. “I have many, hidden if you know what I mean.” Micah whispered to the guard. “Many many more.” He rubbed his stomach turned his back and walked to his bunk. Pulling the single blanket over him he rolled to the wall ignoring the sputtering questions of the guard.

Long hard labor for one man to dig out a grave but Williams was a determined man. Keeping his discovery to himself he waited for the killer to be hanged and managed to beg his way on to the hanging detail. He rode along in the pickup truck to the prisoner’s graveyard and made sure he’d be able to find the grave in the dark when he returned in a few days to collect his treasure from the damned man. The backhoe made quick work of the excavation and Williams waved the local operator off half way into packing the earth tight after the casket was lowered into the hole. He grinned at his ingenuity hoping he wouldn’t get many blisters removing the dirt and loose rocks; he’d hate to have to explain what he’d done to his hands as he waited out the two weeks’ notice he planned to give the prison after he was rich.

Lying in wait, blade finally hit wood; the cheap wood box he was buried in splintered easily under the metal shovel, Micah rolled to his side and pressed up against the side of the casket. Shovel blade pounded between the ill fitting boards of the lid prying the wood apart breaking a small opening into the pitch black casket. Flashlight shining into the casket found only thick swirling dust. Cussing under his breath the shovel pried under the next flimsy board breaking it making the opening bigger. Micah heard the shovel as it was thrown against the open holes side, the flashlight beam danced across the opening as Williams took to his knees to look into the casket. His head dipped into the broken casket the flashlight closely behind, Micah grabbed Williams by the shoulders and pulled him into the rickety wood box pushing him head first arms pinned to his sides to the bottom of the casket as he climbed Williams body using his hands and feet to push him further into the black box as he climbed up and out of the splintered hole broken in the casket lid. William’s legs thrashed and he screamed in hysteria as he fought to back out of the casket begging God to save him. Micah kneeled down reaching back into the cheap casket throwing the flashlight to Williams head so he would have light as he slowly screamed himself to death. Micah shoveled dirt first into the broken caskets lid on thrashing legs then covering the casket drowning out the screams little by little as the hole was filled and the dirt smoothed and manicured at the surface.

Looking down from the cemetery hill at the glistening lights of town Micah had a full night’s work ahead of him; he’d made promises he intended on keeping.

From the Ramblings



t

Touch

I’m not going to go into a lot of detail; what could I say that you’d believe?

I’ve never liked to be touched; that little brush of the curly hair, the gentle little cupping of the chin or cheeks as we all do when presented with little babies. Those are the things that have set me off from the time I was born. Mother made all kinds of excuses when family or friends would embrace me; screaming was the result with very few exceptions. Those few who didn’t receive the unwelcome cries knew deep in their hearts why I’d endure their touch when all others received screams and fits whether they’d accept the truth or not.

Mother found early on that cute and stylish baby clothing that included little gloves had a huge calming effect on the baby growing into a toddler as her baby discovered the world with busy little hands; without she’d have a screaming terrified toddler on her hands.

She’d ask people not to touch her child as she had the most perfect answers to those who’d ask why the child always wore long sleeves and some sort of gloves over those little hands. She was quick to distance us if any pressure was put on the set answers with further questions.

I’ve stopped seeing people and closed my shop named the Touch after five years; the burden was just too great and people got crazy with the information I’d provide; they’d literally lose their minds; it became dangerous and exhausting work with countless clients wanting to subpoena me into Court. I now only take clients by word of mouth and charge a premium price for my time cutting the number of people I see from hundreds to just a very few a week; a thousand dollars an hour, but it only takes a touch.

Client 17-1477 I’ll call her Joyce; she’s had depression and anxiety for years, unable to sustain any sort of meaningful relationship having three divorces over the last twenty two years; she’s searching for answers to why she can’t trust and get close to anyone in her life. In just a touch; she knows the answer but she’s closed it off and shut those memories away forever, at least that’s what she’s wanted to do; but the questions just won’t stop. Gently I place on finger on her wrist and get the jolt I’ve come to detest; memories explode, a kaleidoscope of imagines flood my mind, a video of her life plays on fast forward as I scrunch my face with the pain. June 8th, 1985 2:34pm Uncle Eddy babysitting the four year old Joyce finds he’s turned on while changing diapers and molests the child; this goes on for three years.

Client 17-1656 I’ve been summed by the local police and asked to interview an arrestee. With just a touch; a flash of dashingly white light strikes my brain as I place a partial index finger on the back of the arrestee’s hand, my ears ring from the concussion of the point blank explosion of the .357 revolver pointed at the chest of the victim; I feel my hair blow back from the blast screaming through my mind.

Placing my ungloved hand on the back of the restaurant chair to pull it out from the table I get a wash of residual memories of those who’ve come and gone; they wash my mind in sparkling short glimpses of lives lived and memories remembers and those squashed, silences by fear and guilt.

I’ve began working for high level security companies searching for the best candidates to hire. With just a touch……..

From the Ramblings



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Number 57

The patrol car turned right at the corner of 288th street in front of Dek cutting him off just as he stepped off the curb; he dug in his heel making a hard left behind the cruiser crossed the wide Street on the “Walk” signal away from the cops as they now crept down 288th; he didn’t speed up or slow down, keeping cool.

He’d been slowly shuffling his way along for six blocks heading due south straight away from his kill. He didn’t notice the slowly moving squad car coming up McDermott until they were right on his ass; “ah fuck” slipped from his lips as he saw them over his left shoulder. They’d been pacing him almost half the last block cruising along at two miles per hour looking at him and all the other brothers dragging their broken asses down the filthy run down Street; he did his best to blend in “I’m just another nigga walkin down the street” he murmured under his breath. The Street was busy on Friday night; worn out hookers leaned against store fronts in their dirty tight short skirts “Want ta fuck” just wasn’t a turn on when they were charging a hundred bucks a fuck looking like thin skinned bags of bad drugs and deadly disease.

He wasn’t worried much about the patrol car; he’d stuffed the dead guy under a stack of pallets and cardboard. They wouldn’t find the body until at least Monday when the garbage got picked up; what he was worried about is that he was covered in blood. The piece of shit put up quite the fight even though Dek had a gun and the dick didn’t have a damn thing to defend himself with. Dek jammed the gun under the guys nose and pulled the trigger; huge flash, bang that still had his ears ringing, blinded by the flash Dek couldn’t see a damn thing with his eyes full of sparkling lights; the damn dead man took off like a rabbit; what he did get was sprayed by arterial blood like a rain bird sprinkler from the man’s face. Five explosions later from the short barreled .357 revolver the piece of shit was down and bleeding out under the garbage that piled up as he skidded to a dead stop.

Derek Priestley Williams born August 27th 1973; one of the hottest days of the decade brought one more miserable mouth to feed into a family of eight kids and one run down drugged out mother living in a two room apartment that just got posted for razing in two short months. Thelma pushing 325 pounds was one pissed off junky; hotter than hell and another mouth to feed, she was thinking of killing the dick that pumped her up; the additional money the baby would bring her on welfare never covered what it took to feed them; this one would be raised by the street just like all the others.

Derek was run through school just like all inner city kids; no child left behind, nope they all got pushed from one grade up to the next regardless of achievements. Graduating early like all his friends; some called it dropping out but to his group it was graduating early. Derek’s only chance for a job was with the local drug trade. Starting out as a lookout then promoted to low level dealer, finally making it to small infraction enforcer Derek was getting into the money; he’d even paid a few bucks towards some of his mother’s overdue account at the grocers.

Derek made the leap to full enforcer after stepping in front of a bullet meant for the drug boss fired from a passing car; he’d never looked back since.

Waiting across the street until a group of four wandered away from the building entrance Dek stepped out from the shadows and hurried into the apartment building. Running up the three floors of stairs he banged on the door of 312 to be let in.

Door opening a crack then wide “Well looks like you got into the wet work Dek” JT said stepping out of Dek’s way.

“Yeah I’m gonna ask for a raise for this one; my clothes are ruined.” Dek said with a little bravado in his voice.

“Fat chance” JT slammed the door “That guy paid two hundred and that’s what you get. Getting a blood shower is part of the job.”

Dek showing his middle finger kicking the bathroom door closed. “What a fucking douse.” Dek yelled through the door looking in the mirror.

Two minutes in the shower JT was banging on the door yelling “Mac D is on the phone for you fucker get out here!”

“You fix that problem; you get my paperwork?” Mac D growled in Dek’s ear.

“Yeah yeah I fixed it; ummmm… there was no paperwork, ahhh… nothing.” Dek said, eyes closed, skinny body wrapped tight in a dirty towel.

“You sayin nothin, not a thing, no nothin huh?” Mac D’s voice began to rise. “No money, product nothin, that’s what you tellin me Dek?”

“Fucking guy was clean; maybe someone had already jacked him?” Dek said weakly.

“Where he at?” Mac D clearly livid breaking code talk; his voice ice cold and deadly. Mac D repeated every word Dek said to him; snapping his head to the right two of his Lieutenant’s busted out the door heading to the spot Dek had given.

“You fucking lied to him man, you’re dead fucking dead!” JT yelled into Dek’s face.

I gotta go; “He was covered in blood, he shit himself, it was everywhere. I forgot; he was covered in shit!” Dek screamed throwing on clothes as fast as he could. “I’ll beat them there and clean this mess up.”

Sliding around the corner breathing hard, real hard from running the mile and some to the alleyway Dek only hoped he’d gotten there first. Not seeing anyone he crept down slowing keeping far into the shadows; pulling cardboard and then pallets off the body he pushed his hand into the man’s front pocket.

“You lookin for this Dek; the paperwork Mac D told you to get?” Sammy Tower asked and spit in Dek’s face.

Taking a hard side kick to the face Dek rolled up against the grimy ally wall; jamming the 9mm barrel past Dek’s teeth Sammy pulled the trigger; muffled blast, both men looked for prying eyes.

Derek Priestley Williams became Chicago’s 57th homicide of 2016; his murder didn’t even make the evening news or mentioned in the news papers.

From the Ramblings



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