“We’re spending too much money on tedt animals,” he stated again. “We need an alternative.”
“And what would that be? Ourselves?!” exclaimed Trish. Usually he hated just about everything that came out of Trish’s mouth, but this was actually a good idea.
“Why not?” He asked, not even half joking. Everyone just looked at him blankly. Then the conversation continued. He stopped listening.
He had played around with ideas in his head, loosely of course. But now it was stuck in there. He didn’t want the lab to get shut down, but between the bloated budget and the fact that he really hated testing on animals…human subjects were the best anyway right?
He was working on some serious research that could cure ailments that had plagued mankind for centuries! Skin conditions, warts, men’s hair loss! Not cancer though, there was no money in that, other people were working on that, how boring for them.
What if he could inject them with the serums sereptisiously? If things went wrong they could keep people here in the facility for observation. And it would be so easy to observe the reactions.
He was getting obsessed with the idea. He could cut his budget in half and move right to human trials! Surely that would be fine, it’s not like his serums had caused any really harmful effects, other than that one bunny who went bald immediately. That wasn’t a concern.
I double checked the number, no one I knew. Googled the area code, from out of state. Another freaking spam text? I was getting sick of these, but this was a new one.
“Why not?” I texted back. Sometimes my partner would mess around with whoever was spamming them. I had never done it, but maybe it would be fun?
“You won’t like what you find.”
“And what will I find?”
“You won’t believe me. Just stay away.”
“Vague/unhelpful/are you serious?”
…
I waited.
“Yes. This isnt a joke.”
“Who are you? Why are you messing with me? Is this Eric?”
“No. Do not go home tonight.”
“And how exactly does this scam benefit you?”
“This is not a scam.”
I guess I couldve been more creative, but I get annoyed easily.
“And where do you suggest I go?”
“Anywhere you like.”
“Without any of my stuff?”
…
…
“That’s not my concern.”
“Im tired of this. Im blocking this number and reporting it. Good luck on your next scam!”
But before I have a chance to delete the number. A picture comes through.
Its my house.
“What the hell?! Where did you get that picture?”
“I told you. Its not a scam.”
“How do you know where I live and how did you get this number? If this is a joke its gone far enough!”
Not funny. Not funny at all. Should I call the cops? Does this warrant a call?
Oh shit! Michael. He must be at home by now.
I call him.
No answer.
I text him.
No answer. No answer.
Then …
Then nothing.
What do I do? What do I do? I need to know he’s ok. I pick up my speed and head to my train stop.
I keep trying to call. Dammit. I bounce and fidget on the train. The unknown number is silent.
Im about to explode out of my skin when the train door opens at my stop. I run. Nearly knocking people over to get up the station stairs.
It takes me too long to get home. The windows are dark.
I go up to the door. Its cracked open. No noise. No lights.
“Michael?”
I take a step in.
My phone dings.
“What did I tell you? Dont go in the house!”
I whip around. No one. I furiously text back.
“Are you watching me?”
“Get out before you regret it.”
I walk further into the hall.
“Babe? Michael?” I weakly call out. Still nothing but silence. I turn to look in the living room. And there is someone sitting on the couch facing away from me.
“Michael?” The figure stirs and turns slowly toward me.
“Lisa? Is that you?” It sounds like Michael. I’m so relieved it takes me a minute to register that his voice is, off, somehow.
I flip on the hall light. It’s him! “You scared the crap put me! What kind of prank are you playing? Texting me like that and sitting in the dark? This is not one of your better thought out jokes I can tell you.” I rambling, I’m nervous and I don’t know why.
Michael staggers up still turning toward me. He’s moving oddly, like he’s not quite coordinated . As he turns to me, it looks like something is wrong with his face, but it’s so dark in the living room.
“Are you ok?” I ask as I flip on the living room light, I scream. His eyes are gone! Just…gone. Black pits where they should be. I stumble back into the hall slamming against the side board where we keep our keys.
He turns all the way and reaches for me tripping over the back of the couch, falling to the floor with a crash. “Where are you?” he asks. As he does thick black sludge bubbles out of his mouth and over his chin. He voice sounds thick as though there is more sludge lodged in his throat.
This is wrong. I scramble away from him, not sure why but my every instinct is telling me to run. To get away. I listen. I run out the door and slam it and tear wildly down the sidewalk. I don’t know where to go other than away.
My phone pings, I’m still holding it. I slow to read the message.
“I told you not to go home tonight. I warned you. And now it has seen you too. That’s not Michael anymore. Meet me here at 11pm.”
An address comes through. I stop running and try to catch my breath. My reaction puzzles me, but I can barely think right now. Why did I run instead of calling for help? Who is this person? Why would I meet them? What is it?
I throw up into the bushes.
They stood across the field from one another. The sun beginning to set behind them. The wind blew dust around them, making their capes rustle. One bright yellow with the sun embroidered in pure gold, the other deepest blue, the phases of the moon lovingly rendered in silver thread. They held their swords ready. The battlefield hushed around them, knowing this was the battle that would decide it all. It would begin at the end of the day, and end at the beginning of the night.
To think they had been friends once. More than that. But now they faced one another as enemies, nothing between them but hate, and deepest sorrow.
As the gloaming began to set in a horn sounded. They advanced on one another. Slow steps becoming full out sprints. Then they clashed, gold and black armor whirling together so fast they became a blur.
They knew one another’s tactics. Each move parried, others ducked under, or pushed out of the way. But they could still surprise one another. The golden warrior landed an elbow into the chin of the black helmet making its owner stagger back. The golden warrior spun to follow through with their sword, but the dark one saw it coming and blocked at the last minute.
The rest of the field was silent. Watching the battle. They moved almost as if they were dancing, blades cutting the air, taking advantage of the space left by the other. They did not seem as though they would tire and that the battle would never cease. The golden warrior managed to press an advantage and pushed the dark warrior back by a few feet, but the dark warrior quickly recovered, feinting a stumble then landing an impressive kick to the center of the golden warrior’s open chest.
The dark one took advantage of the stumble and knocked the golden warrior completely off balance to the ground and pushing the blade to their throat.
Both went still, the only sound their jagged breathing. Then the golden warrior spoke.
“Finally.”
The warrior raised a hand and removed the golden helm.
“At least look me in the eyes when you do it.”
Slowly, the dark warrior removed their helmet, pushing the tip of the sword further into the golden warrior’s throat.
The helm clattered to the ground. Dark onyx eyes stared into sky blue ones.
“Now do it. End it.”
The blade struck as the sun dipped below the horizon.
The sun slipped below the horizon and the blade struck home.
Well….this can’t be good, I thought staring at the black and lightly smoking envelope in my hand, my name written in silver ink. I flipped it over and opened the flap, snapping the black and silver seal with Hades own insignia.
I slid out the thick black card inside. In the same silver ink all it said was:
1:00am Friday
Apollo’s Diner
I looked at the clock, it was 12:48am. “Crap”
I threw the invitation in the sink so nothing would catch on fire, grabbed my leather coat and shot out the door. It would be a miracle if I got there on time. But you can’t keep the lord of the underworld waiting.
At least he didn’t send a shade to come drag me through the couch…like last time. That was awkward.
I ran as fast as could, dodging people out late, emerging from bars, one last walk for the dog before bed, head down mumbling to themselves. The sidewalk was slick from the rain (the lord of the underworld only comes up in bad weather) and I narrowly avoided slipping a few times.
The Apollo always made me nervous. It was kind of a portal between the above and the under. Time worked differently in the diner. You never knew if you were going to get out on the same day you walked in, or walk into a completely different street.
I got to the door of Apollo’s right as my alarm went off. 1am. I burst in and looked around, pushing wet hair out of my eyes.
The hostess, a harpy, pointed to a booth far from the entrance. To the man seated with his back to the door. Taking a deep breath, I walked over and slid into the booth across from him.
Black eyes narrowed at me under raven hair, set off by a midnight colored jacket, shirt, and tie. His long dark hands crossed themselves over the plastic menu on the table.
“Well,” he asked, his white teeth glinting, the only color that contrasted the darkness of him.
“Do you have any word on my wife, or should I hire a better P.I.?”
You didn’t expect to go out this far, but now that you have it’s peaceful. You bob on each wave and time your breathing to them. The water is cool, the wind is calm, and the sun is setting.
You empty your mind and give yourself the time to forget the worries you left on the beach. Water laps in, one breath in, one beat of your heart. Water laps out, one breath out, one beat of your heart.
This is something to carry with you.
Waiting for anything. Waiting in line, at the doctor’s office, for a meeting to start, for a meeting to end.
Waiting for results, to hear back from the job that they assured you was going to get back to you. Waiting for that person to call, text, like, subscribe.
Waiting for the bus, the train, a cab, a flight. To take off, to get your bags. To check-in, to check-out. To get there, to get back.
Waiting lasts forever, it never ends.
You suddenly look up, bleary eyed. Your legs are stiff and your neck is bent just a little funny. You realize you’ve barely moved in hours, only to shift slightly or turn the pages of the book in your hand. Time has ticked by, but you were so engrossed in the story, so lost in the words. It’s much later than you planned on staying up, but you had to read just one more chapter, just get to that next page. You consider going through the rest, you’re so close, but grudgingly, you put the book down, noting your place. You switch off the light, and lay down. As you try to drift off your mind fills with the characters, the plot twists, the tension. You give up, sit up, turn the light back on, and continue your journey.
It sits in the now overgrown woods. Once bright tents and awnings now covered with mold and shredded. Once lively booths full of rotting prizes. Stuffed animals whose fluff pours out their ripped sides, eyes falling off around sagging noses. Deflated balls and fishbowls with little skeletons in them. The metal of the rides is rusted and bent, the ferris wheel is close to crashing down and the tilt-a-whirl’s cars have almost all toppled to the side. The roller coaster sags, a car hanging precariously off the side. The food vendor stands contain mummified hot dog buns and things long turned to unidentifiable sludge.
This is not where the story starts however, but where it ends. This theme park used to be the largest around this area and people would come from all over to visit. It was loud and bright and full of the smell of carnival food. Until something very bad happened. Something that stopped the park in time, left it and everyone who was there that day to rot.