The Hole

   “Why hadn’t they left like the others?”  Jake wondered from his hiding place where he hid still waiting for his mother.  Sitting with his legs folded under him in the hidden crawl space only accessible through his closet the voices drew closer once again.  As they neared he shot out from is hole screaming
“Get out; leave us alone, LEAVE US ALONE!”
 He then punctuated this by throwing a rather heavy looking text book from the nightstand by the closet at the three men who had entered the room.  The newest one, wearing the odd black suit was struck in the forehead and all three turned and fled from the room.  Jake likewise returned to his hole and cried to quietly for his mother who was starting to believe may never return. 
  
   Only twelve years old, Jake had heard stories of home invasions but didn’t truly know anything about them.  He thought that generally the invaders would enter, take what they wanted, and leave.  This had been going on for God knows how long.  Hours?  Days?  No, it wasn’t possible but it was surely not nearly so long as it seemed.  Looking back now, he had no idea whatsoever as to how long it had been.  When the four men had entered wearing masks and armed with guns his mother had hidden him in this cubby hole and vowed to return from her own hiding place quick.  With all the excitement of that evening he should have some clear memory, but he didn’t.  Now more and more people came and went, but none were his mother, or had news of her for him. 
  
   He stirred at the sounds of men entering the room.  Peeking out he saw the same three from earlier with the tall suited man now wearing a square strip of gauze taped to his forehead, in one outstretched hand a cross, and in the other a book.  The Bible?  What was this? 
“In the name of God the father and his son Jesus Christ I command you to leave this home at once!”  The tall man bellowed.
“In the name of God the father and his son Jesus Christ I banish you from this world forever!”
  
   A mix of emotions nearly overtook Jake at this.  Wanting to laugh at how preposterous it was for some man to break into his family’s home only to perform some bizarre ceremony.  Also a dim awareness began to dawn on him.  It was the cross mans words that fed this.  Was he?  Could he be?
  
   Jake felt a vacuum to his back and turned quickly to find the cause.  The cinder blocks had vanished leaving only blackness haloing a white tunnel full of a depth impossible to comprehend.  His mother then filled the light smiling and reaching to with one outstretched hand. 
“Come on baby, you needn’t wait any longer.” She told him in her always soothing voice
He reached to her, held onto her hand, and joined her on the other side. 

   There were some popping sounds from within the wall, then nothing silence.
“Was that it?”  Brian Daigle asked nervously from behind the preacher. 
Lowering his cross and bible, “Yes, I believe it was.”  Reverend Cunningham replied working very hard to hide his own surprise. 
“Three owners in four years, and that was all it took.”  Brian’s brother Doug said, the sarcastically add “Imagine that.” 
After a moment of silence the preacher relented “Sometimes they are just ready to move on, they only need direction.” “May I look in the closet?  That seemed the center of it.  Did it not?”
“Be my Guest.”  Brian replied in a voice that seemed to say ‘I owe you big’
   The two men entered the walk in with Doug waiting behind them.  They looked around and the preacher began feeling along the walls.  He found a kind of catch on the backside, pushed, thought better of it, then pulled.  There was a sucking sound as the panel opened up like a garage door.  Revealed behind it was  the body of a child perhaps of eleven or twelve, that had been almost completely preserved. 
“Jesus save us!” the reverend exclaimed quietly to himself as Brian gasped and covered his mouth.
  Doug, ever the cynic chuckled and speculated on the situation,
“Shit man, the poor kid never had a chance.  I mean, look at this room; it’s air fucking tight.  The poor kid suffocated in relative safety, as his mother was passed around like a party favor before they snuffed her out. Had to of.”
  
   Looking embarrassed as to how his brother was talking, especially in front of a holy man, he shot his brother a look that should have told him to leave it alone.
“Look!”  Doug  continued”  They used plastic garbage bags and, what is that?  Caulk?  To seal the room.  It wasn’t a panic room, it was a death trap!” he ended laughing again.

   Angry now, the preacher gave his stern reply.  “It isn’t for you to judge!  Don’t you know the dead suffer as much, if not more than the living?  By the grace of God, you will find out!”  He finished as he let the door close once more in the boy.  

You've Been Setup

The End

            Sitting inside of the coffee house Danny was struggling to learn how to become a farmer. The Agriculture for Idiots book he had taken from the bookstore was making him feel even less capable than he had thought. He hadn’t known that soil even had nitrates and Ph, much less how to regulate them. Growing his own food was a need Danny had realized his life depended on now that there wasn’t anyone left to do it for him. For the moment he knew he wouldn’t have any trouble finding food, so he could afford to take his time with his self education, but it was one of the many new skills he needed to pick up.           

            He set the book down on the table in front of him and examined his wounded right forearm. He had panicked when he had cut it open on the glass from the broken window. From now on he would be sure to use a broom handle or something like it to clear the fragments left on window frames after he throws rocks through them. The cut was small, no longer than an inch and not very deep, but even those relatively minor lacerations could be serious for hemophiliacs. The superglue he had put on it to close and seal the wound was still holding it together nicely so his only worry now was infection. It scared him to think that after surviving the end of the world something as minor as failing to use disinfectant could take him out. His mother had taught him that no one with his condition should go anywhere without their first aid kits and so he never did. More likely it would be the loneliness that put him in the grave.

           

            Sipping his hot drink, Danny stared out of the window and sang to himself “rain rain go away, come again some other day”. It had been raining for six months now with only the briefest of breaks. Hot and rainy seemed to be the forecast for the rest of time. Josh had told him that the rain was a result of the nuclear power plants out west going belly up. With no one there to man them anymore they melted down and caused a fallout which caused rain. Like Danny, Josh was no scientist but Danny was still compelled to believe him. His fear now was radiation, but Josh had said that the weather patterns now kept that from being a problem. No wind meant no pushing radioactive debris all the way to Oklahoma. It was Josh’s sister Alex who had explained the lack of wind. When the asteroid clipped the moon, the mood moved much further from our dead planet. The distancing of the moon was obvious in the weeks before the rain began. Alex had seen on some television show or learned in school that the moon was what controlled the tides in the ocean and therefore the weather everywhere. Like Joshes theory, it made since. Without the moons gravitational pull on the oceans, to pump them like the beating of hearts, the earth’s weather would cease to change. At the memory of the two siblings, a single tear rolled down Danny’s cheek.

           

            Danny had met the brother and sister in the days just fallowing the catastrophe. He found them rummaging through a pharmacy for some supplies. Like him, they were both hemophiliacs. Together they surmised what had happened to the planet. When the asteroid smacked into the moon dust began falling to the earth within days. Mostly it came down in larger chunks that looked like a twenty four hour a day meteor shower. As that was happening the news media began broadcasting warnings from the Center For Disease Control that there was a possibility, however slim, that there could be a virus trapped inside of the dust similar to the one that had been released by a comet causing the Influenza outbreak of the early nineteen hundreds. The CDC was correct, but this time it wasn’t the flu.

           

            On the sixth day of dust showers from space, people began to die. By the end of the seventh day every human, ape, pig, and boar were dead with the exception of a very small demographic who were immune to the virus. The survivors were all hemophiliacs. The virus acted directly on the hemoglobin in the blood that clots it when exposed to air. The virus caused it to clot everywhere at once. All the blood in almost all people turned into scab within seconds. Not everyone died in this way however. When the moon moved away releasing it’s grip on the oceans there were giant tsunamis that destroyed almost all coastal cities world wide. The shift in gravity also caused a shift in every fault line worldwide causing an earthquake that quaked the whole earth destroying buildings, setting fires, avalanches, mudslides, rockslides, bridge collapses, and the list goes on and on. It was never proven as to weather or not God created the heavens and the earth in seven days, but that is exactly how long it took for almost all life on the planet to die.

            Throughout that week Danny pretty much hid in his basement. When people died from the clotting virus they went instantly. They had no time to go home and park their cars because they were feeling ill. Instead the would be just fine one second and then they were dead as quickly as if someone had turned off a switch. There were car and plane crashes, trains that wouldn’t stop until they ran out of juice or derailed, and boats were running ashore. No one had time to even think about a cure. They simply dropped dead as though they were the crew aboard the Ancient Mariners ship, and living through it made Danny feel like he were the Mariner with the albatross wrapped around his neck. The damage from the quakes was minor in the suburbs of Oklahoma City where he was living, but before the deaths the news reported major losses world wide to the cities on or near fault lines. Every coastal city worldwide were devastated by the tsunamis and entire islands and island nations were completely destroyed.

            After some time passed and all was quiet, Danny decided to emerge from his house. There was no movement on the street other than the rain falling from the sky and rolling into the sewers. He could see a few dark shapes on the ground up and down the street but no signs of life. As he approached the shape that was closest to him he saw it was a corps. It was his neighbor’s daughter home from college, purple, swollen, and barely recognizable. The smell was so strong that it was like a physical force reaching into him and squeezing is gag reflexes. As he watched in horror how the raindrops rolled off of her clouded over eyes he could hold off no more, he staggered a few steps, bent over, and vomited all over the sidewalk. As he walked throughout the neighborhood, he saw that the bodies were everywhere. Scared, depressed, wet, cold, and in shock Danny decided that the end of the world had come just as all of the religious nuts had been saying on the last days of broadcasting. He felt that the best place for him to go would be Saint Andrews Church a few blocks west from his house. As he approached the church that his mother had forced him to visit so many times, he got a warm feeling like coming home. When he got closer the smell hit him. It was the same rotting smell that he’d been smelling since he got out side, but as he walked towards the church it was almost unbearable. Pulling his shirt up over his nose and mouth he opened the door. Warm air rushed at him and the smell forced the last remaining bit of bile and substance in his stomach to shoot from his nose and mouth all over the inside of his shirt without warning. Quickly staggering away from the building he dropped to his hands and knees dry heaving as his stomach muscles seemed to be going through spasms. What he had seen in the church for only a fraction of a second would forever be burned into his mind like a brand. The pews were full of bloated bodies shoulder to shoulder and oozing vulgar looking fluids from places where there stretched skin had split. Apparently almost every parishioner had felt the need remain in the church praying for salvation as the world died. Now having seen them, Danny wished he had died right along with every one else. Finished with the dry heaves he collapsed on his side and wept.

            Danny quickly began to accept his circumstances. He decided that if he had survived unaffected then others may have as well. The hospital should be the first place to check Danny decided, if there were other survivors they may need some help, or at least some kind of medicine to prevent them selves from dropping dead at any time. Headed home first for some dry clothes and his car. Once ready he pulled his Kia out of his garage and slowly made his way into town. He was frightened to go above twenty five miles an hour not only because of the rain but because of the other vehicles that littered the roads in places. As he swerved around them Danny counted it as a blessing in a weird way that most of the deaths happened in the middle of the night. If it had been rush hour of a regular weekday morning, the streets would be impossible to navigate.

           

            Danny didn’t have to enter the hospital to know that he wouldn’t find anyone there. He could see the bodies through the window of the emergency room and on the patio in from of it. Driving carefully he moved on to down town. He wasn’t worried about wrecking his car, he knew at this point that if he wrecked it or even ran out of gas all he had to do was to find a dealership and pick out a new ride. No money down and no payment for the first hundred years. His fear was the seat belt. A good impact and he would certainly have internal bleeding from the two straps of the restraint, and he obviously couldn’t go to the hospital for help. Instead he would die of blood loss without ever spilling a single drop. This thought made him decide to head to a pharmacy for bandages and super glue. Super glue was the greatest gift to hemophiliacs his doctor had told him. It did the job of stitches but with less possibility of seepage. It was true that the scaring could be far worse, but scars were better than transfusions or death.

           

            When he got to the pharmacy he was pleased to find that the door was open. Being a store that was open all day every day no one had locked it up before they dropped dead. Danny grabbed a shopping basket as soon as he entered and made his way back to the pharmacy area to see what medications they may have for him. Just before he got to the desk he saw some light cutting through the darkness and heard voices that were full of stress.

“Where the hell is it?” fallowed by the crashing of pill bottles hitting the floor.

“He usually gets it from right around there!” came a woman’s voice that sounded much more scared than angry the mans out burst.

“Hello” Danny called out announcing himself, “I’m here for medical supplies, I’m not going to interfere with you.”  As soon as the words left his mouth the shadowy figures stopped their rummaging and swung the flashlight towards him leaving nothing but a deafening silence in the store. Then finally, the woman made the first reply.

“Were here for meds to! My God, are you alone or are there more survivors with you?”

“Alone, I thought I may be the only server, I’m Danny, may I come back there with you?”

“Yea, come on back and help your self, were not finding anything we need anyway.” The man said as he swung his light to the floor to get it out of Danny’s eyes, then he added, “I’m Josh by the way, and this here is Alex.”

It being Alex’s turn to speak she told Danny, “Pleased, but you’ll have to excuse me because I’m in a bit of a crisis here.” The urgency was clear in her voice as she turned the flashlight back to the shelf and began rummaging again. Danny moved passed them to the next set of shelved over and began pulling a small specific group of boxes off the shelf as he inquired of Josh what it was that they needed so badly. His answer surprised and even amused Danny a little. It was liquid bandages they Alex was so desperate to find, the very product that Danny was loading into his basket that moment. He told him that he had them and the two jumped at him in such a hurry that he thought he might get mugged after all. Josh pulled a box out of Danny’s cart and immediately tore into it as he whispered ‘thank God’ over and over again to him self. Danny was even more surprised when he saw the blood soaked bandage for the first time. Alex’s hand was wrapped up tight and the amount of blood became more impressive with every layer she went through to het to her bare hand. The cut was jagged and about three inches long on the back of her slender hand. Josh had opened the box, removed three of the tubes and already cracked open and shaken the first one. Immediately upon handing it to her Alex began applying it to the cut as Josh prepped the second.

           

            When the ordeal was over with and they had all three made it back to the front of the store where the dim light from outside lit the room well enough to see clearly. There they pulled three of the folding chairs off the sales rack and had a seat as Danny passed out the sodas he had gotten from the now room temperature refrigerators before they began telling each other their stories. Danny learned that Josh was a graduate student who had been studying physics, and the beautiful Alex was his sister and not his lover. She had been about to graduate with a degree in English that would now do her no good at all. Both siblings as it turned out were hemophiliacs like Danny. That was how Josh came up with the theory that the disability had spared their lives. The three were instantly friends.

           

            Alex, Danny found out, had cut her hand when breaking into the local Ace Hardware to steal a gas generator. Like the flashlights, it had not occurred to Danny that he could really use such simple but useful thing. Together they went back to the store and salvaged the generator. From there they drove it in the truck Josh had taken from the Ford dealership to the giant house the siblings had staked claim to two days before. It was in that house that the trio decided to stay. Danny got a few of his belongings from his own home but left most things behind to help combat his since of loss. He and his new friends spent most days clearing the streets, going to the library and book stores, gathering any supplies they thought they may need, and looking for other survivors. Their nights were usually spent playing video  board games or cards while drinking the best and most expensive wine that they never could have afforded when there was a society to place a price on it. Things went on like that for a few months As the time went by Danny and Josh had begun to think of each other as brothers, and Danny and Alex had become lovers. The understanding that the world would never go back to the way it had been before was something that they all now excepted and things were all in all going pretty well. It was during lunch outside of a supermarket that everything changed for them. Enough time had passed now that the rotting of the fruits, vegetables, breads, and meats had come and gone, so the smell was tolerable and the canned foods were always on the menu. Josh was having tuna from the can, Danny was enjoying some beef stew, and Alex had herself some tomato soup. Had Danny seen the can of soup he could have let her know that the swelling if the can was a bad sign. If Josh hadn’t been so wrapped up in his canned fish he may have noticed the funny texture and color of her lunch. Instead Alex died of Botulism within the hour.

                        Her death brought a new darkness upon the earth as far as the two men were concerned. They buried her that day in the back yard of the house and headed inside. They didn’t talk to each other more than was absolutely necessary and neither man was in any condition to offer even a little comfort to the other. Three short days after her death Danny woke to the sound of a gun shot from outside. Running to his window he saw the body of his last friend sprawled on the fresh grave with the rain pushing the blood and gore into the saturated soil. Danny was once more alone.    

            Now, sitting in the coffee shop Danny’s single tear was joined by another, then another and another. It didn’t take him long to break down into the sobs that had been his only sign of emotion for a long time. Slowly but with familiarity he reached down to his side, upholstered Joshes gun, and raised it to his head. Would he do it this time? Was today the day? No, maybe later he would have the nerve to fallow through. He holstered the weapon as he rose, and walked out the door into the rain with his book under his arm.

Sold

            Doug felt like a kid on Christmas morning as he cut the lock off the storage shed door. He and his wife Beth had won the shed in an auction after they decided that shed auctions could make them a good bit of money via internet sales. They were a bit nervous that they might open it and find only old broken furniture and moth eaten clothes, but they were excited that they might instead find valuable possessions left behind by someone who had fallen upon hard times.

            When the door rolled up into its spool hanging from the ceiling, neither one of then knew what to make of what they saw. There were four tightly rolled carpets leaning against the wall that looked like they could be from any of the carpet producing countries in the Middle East, but were more likely from a Mexican factory and sold through a discount store. They didn’t have to even unroll them however to know that they were old and barely holding together. Next to those was a collection of four containers with badly sculpted animal heads. They looked to be clay and hand made by a high school art student who maintained a c average at best. The final item was a crumbly looking clay box that was about the size and shape of a large shoe box that a pair of winter boots might come in. The top of the box was covered with etchings that were clearly intended to look like hieroglyphics, but were etched with the same lack of talent that the containers displayed and were in no discernable pattern. All and all it looked like they had just walked in on a seventh grade history or art project that would never win an award.  

“Well, this was a waist of five hundred dollars,” Beth said to Doug as much as to herself.

“I don’t know, maybe their antiques” he replied optimistically.

“No Doug, their crap. They took anything worth taking and left their trash before skipping on the bill,” she answered defeatedly as she walked over to one of the carpets and pushed it over.

            Doug went over to the odd box and bent to pick it up. He heaved it up with a grunt and examined the pattern on the top.

 “Well this is neat,” he said as he carried the box over to his disappointed wife.

“Not five hundred dollars neat. I’ve seen more believable King Tut stuff at the dollar store.”

“Yea, well… I think it’s neat. Well come on. Let’s haul this crap home”

“Home to the dump” she muttered as she bent to lift the containers with a grunt.

            Together they loaded their expensive letdown into the back of the truck and drove home. Once there, they moved it all into the garage and headed inside to make some dinner. Between bites of their Salmon, they talked over the pros and cons of biding on another shed. Neither one of them wanted to get ripped off again but both still felt like the gamble was worth it. The argument was that with the economy failing more and more people were loosing their house and moving into storage that they would also loose, so chances were that they would come out ahead if they kept at it. The down side was that if they did get something great nobody would be willing to spend money for it, and they would feel guilty about taking someone’s last piece of their earthly belongings. By the end of dinner, they decided to sleep on it and bring it back up over breakfast. 

            After dinner the two cleared the table and washed their dishes before filling their coffee cups and heading to their patio to enjoy some fresh air. Their conversation almost immediately jumped to the back the shed, and what they had brought home. A couple sips of coffee later they decide to head into the garage and take a closer look. Beth went to the carpets first and picked one at random while Doug picked out a container that looked like it had the head of a monkey. The rug, once unrolled, bore a rather bland pattern of colors that were so vivid that they may have been dyed only a few months ago. Only the ends that had been exposed while the carpet had been rolled up were faded and rotting. She laid it out on the floor and called Doug over to look. He carried the monkey headed jar he had been studying over to her and whistled with surprise when he saw how bright the inside of the rug was. Beth shook her head and gave her theory about the rug. She told him that it was cheaply made so the exposed bits were deteriorating, and the covered parts would last maybe a week before catching up if they left it unrolled. They turned their attention to the jar then. Doug spun it in his hands looking at the barley sculpted monkey head, and then tipped it so that he and Beth could look for a name, date, or at least some logo on the bottom. They found none. Lifting it again they heard something rattle inside of it, so Doug began to pull and twist at the top. When it finally came off there was a sort of popping sound, and inside was what looked like two dried and salted prunes.  

“Ha!” Doug blurted out as he grinned, “They were trying to can their fruit. They should have gotten a mason jar and a set of instructions though.”   

“Yea, stick your fruit in a clay jar and put it in self storage. Guaranteed to keep your fruit fresh for hours, go ahead, try some.” Doug’s smile grew even bigger with her sarcasm. Letting his own sarcasm out he set the jar aside and made his way to the box.

“Let’s see what’s so important that they have to cover it with a billion little pictures.

            He tried pulling the top off but had no luck. He tried sliding it up, down, and side to side but it still held fast. Joining him, Beth asked for a look and began doing all the same things as he stepped aside. Unlike him however, she noticed a small separate clay shaft just below the lip of the lid wiggle a little as she yanked and pulled. She let the top go, and tried sliding the shaft. With a muted clicking sound the top popped up about an inch. Pulling the top off, she exposed the sole content of the box. The ugliest doll the young couple had ever seen. Slightly larger than a Cabbage Patch Kid, the doll was made out of what liked like paper mache and was to stiff and hideous to give any little girl brave enough to pick the thing up any comfort. The face was drawn on with the same obvious lack of skill displayed on the jars, with black circle eyes under a pair of half moon eyebrows and over two dots for the nose. The mouth was nothing more than a thin straight line marked on with little care. Doug reached in, snatched out the doll before Beth could object, and made it dance on the bench in front of her as he sang out in a silly voice;

 “Hello, I’m Ugly Dolly! Do you want to be my friend?”   

“Stop it! That’s disgusting!” Beth tried to scold as she laughed.

“Oh, come on. Give me a kiss!” With that he brought the doll up to her face and made the doll kiss her cheeks.

“Eww, it smells like… It smells gross! Get it away!” She swatted at it and giggled.

“Sorry babe, it only wanted a kiss. Isn’t that right ugly doll?” With that he pulled the doll up to his mouth to kiss it. “Oh man, it does smell. It’s like… wet leather and garlic breath.” He finished as he wiped his mouth and laid the doll back into its box. After that they opened the other jars. One with a dog like head had what must have been a dried tomato, the jar with the bird top held a clumpy mess of God knows what, and the jar with a head looking suspiciously like Elmer Fudd held a dried fig. Not having the urge to see just what the fruit would do to their digestive systems, he dumped them into the trash can.   

            The next morning after a night of Beth tossing and turning they decided that they would take the items to Beth’s brother’s antique shop for an appraisal just in case, then probably take it to the dump. When they got their truck to Jeff’s shop and brought it in, Jeff had a good laugh about them having spent five hundred dollars on the garbage. To Beth’s request however he did agree to take a serious look at the items. He quietly and thoroughly looked at both the carpets and jars to humor them, while the other two browsed the gallery. When they got back to Jeff, he set down the jar he had been examining and shook the look of disbelief from his face.

“It’s the real deal. These, the carpets and the Canopic jars, are Egyptian from ten hundred BC at the soonest, but not likely to be any older than fifteen forty BC.”

“Canopic?” Beth asked, “We dumped some dried fruit out of them last night, but it couldn’t have been that old could it?”

Jeff looked at her in a shocked silence for a few seconds before exploding in laughter.

“You dumped them out? Holy crap! It wasn’t fruit, they were organs. Probably the lungs, stomach, liver and intestines. Thank God you didn’t eat it!”

“Ok so we messed up, and that’s disgusting” Doug said sheepishly, “Let’s talk about the doll and the box. If those were organs in the jars for whatever reason, that’s not really a doll, is it?”

“Fraid not. The Canopic jars are used to hold the organs while the rest of the body gets mummified. The Canopics and that sarcophagus are part of the burial process and the rugs were likely offerings. None of it is in top condition and judging by the lack of craftsmanship it wasn’t anyone of great importance to a lot of people, but it was a baby who hade some significance to enough people to give it this kind of burial. Bad shape or not, this stuff is priceless, so why the hell was it in a neglected storage shed?”

“More importantly, I can’t believe you made me kiss a dead baby, Doug! That’s nasty. I even dreamed I was breastfeeding that thing last night!” Beth yelled without any of the humor she intended.

After a brief burst of laughter from both Doug and Jeff, he apologized again and reminded her that this stuff was priceless; they only needed to find a buyer. Jeff told them that he would ask around about who might be a collector willing to spend a bunch of money, and also looked for someone who could translate the pictures he’d taken from the top of the box.

            Doug and Beth packed up and stored their treasure with far greater care than they had before. They spent the rest of the day leisurely sipping wine and making plans on how they would spend their millions. The trick now would be to keep patient while they waited for Jeff’s call. He had told them that as soon as he had found an appraiser he would let them know where to bring the goods. As night fell, they drank, laughed, ate dinner, made love, went to sleep, and Doug dreamt.

            In his dream, Doug was being hunted through a barren wasteland. He knew it was a dream, which should have been enough to wake him, but instead he dreamt on, feeling very real pain and fear. Soon the pursuers had him trapped at a cliff giving him the option to jump, or to face them. Turning around he saw that what had been after him was a jackal, a baboon, a falcon, and a man. The four were in a semi circle around him and slowly closing in.

“I am Imseti,” said the man, “I travel with my brother; Duamutef the jackal, Qebehsenuef the falcon, and Hapi the baboon. You have stolen what belongs to us.”

            Doug turned, jumped off of the cliff, and fell, and fell, and fell.

            Beth jumped from a deep black sleep into perfect alertness when Doug screamed. Turning on the light, she looked over just in time to see him hide his eyes from the light as he gasped for breath.

“What the hell was that? You scared the life out of me! Are you alright, your drenched with sweat” She finished as she put her hand to his forehead and decided that he didn’t have a fever.

“It was a nightmare” he explained. “I was being chased by those canithingies that the dried fruit was in. It was horrible.”

“Canopics. Are you ok? Can I do anything? And it wasn’t fruit babe.”

“You can get me some water, please.”

            She agreed and climbed out of bed. After taking only a couple of steps towards the door she stopped and Doug watched all of the blood drain from her face. He began to ask if she felt alright when she suddenly slapped her hand over her mouth as she made for the bathroom with the speed and agility of a professional athlete.

            By the time the sun rose, they were on their second cup of coffee and slice of coffee cake. She had been sick to her stomach, but the worst was over and she was already feeling better. The morning went on as most mornings do with them, but with more optimism than usual. At about ten they called Jeff and asked if he had heard any news. He told them that he had and that they should expect an appeaser named Dennis Hensley to arrive at their home at about five that night. He also told them that if they hadn’t already, they needed to return the organs to the Canopics. Doug and Beth were a little embarrassed about not having thought of it on their own. Once in the garage where they had dumped the organs into the garbage, they found the garbage can on it’s side with the trash that had been in it spread out in front of the opening. Doug mentally kicked himself for not having covered the old dog door on the side of the garage. It wasn’t the first time raccoons had made it inside to forage. This time it looked like the animal had cost them more than time. This time it may have cost them millions. After sorting through the mess and looking around outside the dog door to see if any of the organs had been left behind, they gave up and decided to call Jeff. Not surprisingly, Jeff got a good laugh out of it. He told them that it would cost them some money, but they would still make out well enough. He also recommended that they cover up the dog door, especially because they didn’t even have a dog. Doug nailed a board over it.

            That day they spent most of their time cleaning the house and making small talk about big plans. They new it wasn’t wise to make spending plans before they got any money, but what the hell. They also pondered who had abandoned the stuff in the first place. Just because they legally bought the shed’s contents, were the contents legal to sell? Had they been stolen? They decided to not worry about it unless it became an issue. As far as they were concerned, it was a square deal.

            When Mr. Hensley arrived and they got the formalities of introductions and getting drinks out of the way, they told him up front about the lost organs. Dennis clucked his tongue, shook his head and told them that it would be worth considerably less without them. He told them that either way it would be worth a great deal of money. That was all they needed to know. They brought him to the garage where they showed him the artifacts. All three of them stood in silence as he took his time examining it all. He went maticuluosly over the Canopics, unrolled each carpet, and seemed to look closley at every square inch. Finally, he examined the sarcophocus and the mummy. When he finished he explained to them that it was likely from a small community in fourteen to fifteen hundred BC. It was a baby of course, and probably on of great importance to them. The craftsmanship was poor, but that was because of the community social status in the region. The finer work was reserved for the aristocricy. It was the hyrogliphics that he was the most interested in. He explained that the general writing on a sarcophogus or in a burial tomb was a collection of prayers written to help the diseased cross over to the afterlife. This baby however had something far different written on his, as Jeff had told him it had. Like Jeff he needed time to figure it out, but it appeared to be a form of prayers to keep the mummy away from the afterlife, and away from this life as well. It looked to Mr. Hensley like it was an attempt to keep the mummy as nothing more than a mummy. Still, fifteen million would be a fair asking price. Doug and Beth cared nothing for the detailes; they just wanted the whole kit and caboodle sold. Again that night they made love until they slept. Once asleep, Doug dreamt.

            Doug was once again chased through a barren dessert by unseen objects of terror. Again he ran through the same landscape to the same cliffs edge, knowing all the while that he was trapped in a horrible dream. Cornering him this time was not animals however. This time he found himself trapped by four beautiful women. The four olive skinned women appeared to be identical quadruplets wearing identical red gowns. The identifying trait that set them apart from one another were their strange headdresses. One wore a crown shaped like a basket, one a golden scorpion, one a shield crossed with arrows, and the last wore a golden thrown.

“We are the mothers of war, health, nature, and magic. We are the guardians of the charge you have stolen.” Lectured the one wearing the shield and arrows.

                        

“I didn’t steal anything! I bought it out right. I don’t know who left it and it isn’t my fault!” Doug cried in a panic.             

Now the one with golden basket on her head stepped forward,

“I am Nephthy, goddess of nature. You have stolen our charge, but you have also freed it. For too long we have waited.”

Doug stood silent and unmoving. The woman wearing the scorpion took a step joining Nephthy and spoke,

“I am Serket. Goddess of health. You have given me the opportunity to heal the sting of death.”

Joining her stepped the woman with the throne.

“I am Isis, the mother of mothers. Your charge is my child. Your woman has already consumed his soul and taken him upon her now fertile womb.”

Gesturing toward the woman wearing the shield and arrows, Doug presumed her to be ‘war’, Isis continued,

“Neith will spare you unless you fail. Failure will not be tolerated. If you do not fail your rewards will be infantine.”

Doug looked from woman to woman, and then woke up as though he had gotten an electric shock.

            The sound he woke to wasn’t one he would have expected, or liked. It was the sound of Beth vomiting. He went to the bathroom to make sure she was alright. When she had finished and told him that she didn’t know what had brought it on, he helped her clean up and helped her back to bed. There, he told her about his two dreams but left out the part about Beth having ‘consumed’ the soul in fear that she might picture herself eating the dried fruit than wasn’t fruit and begin vomiting again. He asked how he could have learned the names before, because he knew nothing about Egypt; ancient or otherwise. She told him that he had seen to many movies. It made perfect since so he dropped it.

            The next two days Beth and Doug went to three storage shed auctions, where they won nothing, and they waited to hear from a potential buyer. The third day they finally did. Jeff brought Mr. Newman by, who Jeff had told them over the phone was rich and ready to by. Mr. Newman looked over the goods beginning with the Canopics, then the rugs, then the sarcophagus. When he opened it, Doug Beth and Jeff gasped in surprise. The mummy that had previously been full and whole was now reminiscent of a dirty and deflated balloon. The rags that had been the wrappings were still all there, but the baby’s body that had filled it out seemed to have dissolved into nothing. Mr. Newman examined the rags for at least five minutes before coming to the conclusion that the exposure to air and handling had turned it to dust inside. The mummification process of the poor Egyptians was nowhere near as reliable as that of the rich. Furthermore, the lack of organs in the Canopics, and the new condition of the mummy would cost them greatly. He offered Doug seven million dollars, and Doug replied with ten. Newman again offered seven, and Jeff yelled ‘sold’ before Doug or Beth could even reply. A check was written, hands were shaken, and Mr. Newman left with his merchandise. Jeff, Doug, and Beth dressed up and went out to the finest restaurant they knew of, stopping at the bank along the way.

            At their table at Finn’s the three toasted with their Champaign, and excitedly dug into their appetizer when it arrived. After two bites of the calamari, and Beth was rushing to the bathroom to vomit. As she did so, she thought to herself what a shame it was because it had been the best calamari she had ever eaten. She returned to the table, skipped the calamari, and ordered soup for her entree. On the way home from dinner they stopped at a pharmacy for a pregnancy test. Within twenty minutes of getting home Beth sat in the bathroom holding a plastic stick that had informed her that she was indeed pregnant.

            There was a lot of confusion as to why her birth control had failed, but the doctor explained to them that sometimes it just happened. That was the difference between ninety eight and a hundred percent reliable. The doctor joked that they must have done it ninety nine time, but no one laughed. The decision was that now that they had the money, why not have a kid. It wasn’t like they needed to rush out and find work after all. With the decision made, the two grew more excited every day. This wasn’t true about the night however.

            Every night they both dreamed that the four goddesses were telling them that they would be the parents of the New World, or they dreamt that they were raising a baby that was perfect in every way except that it had a black head of a jackal. Every morning they woke confused as the dream quickly faded, and never once did they clearly remember enough of it to speak of or be bothered by.

            When the time passed and the baby was due, Doug had a final dream. This time it was only he and Isis alone in the desert. Isis spoke;

“Soon my child will be born. It will be a great and terrible time for man. My child will go by the name of Anubis and he will open the gateway to the other side.”

“What’s on other side?”

“Death. The dead will be free to walk the earth, and the living will join them in death. Eternity will be achieved and my son will be king. His time is now.”

            With that, Doug woke to Beth using some of the worst words that he had ever heard her speak. Through the expletives she told him that her water had broken and he needed to get her to the hospital. Twelve long and agonizing hours later was born a boy that wasn’t a boy. One nurse fled the room making retching sounds when she saw the child’s dog like head. The doctor worked passed the shock long enough to cut the fleshy umbilical chord that connected the child beast to its mother. Once cut, the earth shook and the gates to the after life were open.    

                             

Stowaway

            I was on the lower decks doing peoples laundry for them when we were preparing to pull into port in Thailand. Nearly all five thousand people aboard the carrier were looking forward to their time ashore on what the navy considers to be one of the best party ports in the world. I, however, was considering staying safe on the ship. I didn’t have to stay aboard you understand, it was a choice. Hell, I wasn’t supposed to be on the aircraft carrier in the first place.

            When I was in the navy, I contracted some kind of nasty virus while I was deployed in Africa. The doctors never did figure out just what the virus was, but it damn near drove me mad. My symptoms were first coma for two weeks, then hallucinations with multiple psychosomatic injuries appearing on my body. This happened when I believed I was being attacked by the monsters that I was hallucinating.  The problem was, that they were not hallucinations. They were dead people. Everywhere I turned, I was running into ghosts who wanted nothing more than to not be seen by me. The feelings were mutual, but see them I did. When I began to see them, I would stare slack jawed in awe and disgust, and they gave me the same in return. I quickly decided to try talking to one of them. The one I tried to contact was a woman who looked like she had escaped from a world war two movie about nurses. As soon as she realized that it was her that I was addressing, her face grew dark and monstrous as she leapt at me. I received a black eye, broken rib, and several lacerations around my face, arms and neck. I’m sure she could have killed me as the punches I threw back her way passed right threw her. I was saved when she simply vanished. I have been attacked several times like that and each time they dissipate before they can land any truly deadly blows on me. I only wish that I knew why that was, so that I might be able to be rid of them before they so much as touch me. The only thing I found that worked on the nasty little buggers is salt. It beats the hell out of me why it works, but it does as good a job as the cheese ball television show I got the idea from said it would.

            It didn’t take me long to come to the conclusion that if I continued to let them know that I could see them, I would continue getting beatings. If I continued getting beatings, I would wind up in the loony bin. If I ended up there my life would loose all meaning. I learned to ignore them when I was out and salt my self into my room when I was home. I of course got kicked out of the navy for medical reasons, and my disability check was nice; but I couldn’t go on like this. I was seeing the ghosts of every man, woman, and child who had ever walked the earth, and that made this little planet of ours a very crowded place. I tried on several occasions to fallow one of them to see where they went and what they did, but I could never pull off my detective bit without being seen and getting battered like an onion ring. After five months, I had had enough and had to do something about it. I had heard that they couldn’t cross water, and that turned out to be a crock, but it occurred to me that they wouldn’t be able to pass through salt water. I applied for every job on every cruise ship, but was turned down for them all due to my ‘mental illness’. I was getting desperate so I finally decided to pull out my old uniforms and stow away on an aircraft carrier.

            Getting on wasn’t a problem at all. I still had my valid ID and uniforms, so all I needed to do was pack my gear and waltz right on. Once aboard I only had to pick a berthing to sleep in and think of ways to remain anonymous. On a ship holding upwards of five thousand people it wasn’t difficult. I chose to live in a berthing occupied by an aircraft squadron and told all of them that I was a member of ships company and needed to stay with them due to over flow. They bought it completely. I also came to realize that it was a blessing that I had been a second class petty officer. That pay grade is high enough that I didn’t risk being put to work by random assholes, and low enough that no one expected me to be responsible for anything. The draw back of my little plan was that I had no way of gaining access to mail, email, internet, or a telephone, leaving me completely disconnected from my old life. On the upside, I had all day and night to do what I pleased, and three meals a day. Four if I stayed up light enough. Most importantly, no ghosts. My days and nights were spent wandering the decks, reading, working out, and doing peoples laundry for five bucks a bag for some extra money when I needed it. It was boring and lonely, but it sure beat the alternative.

           

            When we hit Hawaii after a three week stint, I decided to get off and enjoy the island. I made it as far as the docks when I saw crowds of the dead milling about so I tucked tail and made my way back to the safety of the ship. I spent a lot of time those three days watching the ghosts from the safety of the ship. They were all moving from place to place passing right through the living, but looking out to not bump into one another. I would pick one in particular to track their progress in the hopes that I could learn what they were up to but came up with nothing. They seemed to have purpose, being as they would acknowledge one another long enough to avoid contact, and they moved with determination from one spot to another. It was almost as though they were searching for something, or standing a watch as the sailors on my ship do. It was beyond me at any rate, so I gave it no more thought when we pulled out of port.

            In a way, it was somewhat nice living this life. I was beginning to make acquaintances that were in risk of becoming friendships, and I had all day and night to do as I pleased. Most people on the cruise complained about being cooped up on the ship, but I rather enjoyed it. I didn’t have any where else I needed to be and no one to answer to, so I’d almost say it was the perfect life for me.  I still tried to avoid watching non animated television shows and movies because the ghosts who filled the screen were far to distracting to let me get into it. There was one exception to this rule however. Crossing Over with John Edwards. I was watching that show because that’s what everyone was watching in the berthing that day, and I finally got to see a ghost who wasn’t acting completely pre occupied. This ghost appeared to be a man of about seventy, but it’s hard to tell when their dead. The old man’s ghost was screaming at John as he gave his cold readings to the suckers in the audience.

“Damn it you bastard! That’s my daughter Megan sitting right in front of you! Tell her that her dad Michael is here!”

John simply continued, “I’m getting an ‘A’, did someone loose someone named Adam? Arnold? Alex? Aurora?”

To my and Michaels surprise respectively, a woman sitting behind Megan shouted out, “My uncle Jim and I used to watch the northern lights! He loved the Aurora borealis!”

“That’s him!” John stated with a look of relief.

I watched Michael walk away from john with his head down even as I walked away from the television set. I remember thinking to myself that I should take over johns show so I could get it right. Then I thought about the beatings that the ghosts had given me.

            About a month after that was when we were pulling into Thailand. I waited for most of the real sailors to get off the ship before I got in line to disembark myself. I felt like I needed some time on dry land and I figure I would be able to ignore the ghosts well enough for them to not notice me noticing them. I felt that the worst case scenario would be for me to get a beating and run back to the boat. I set off feeling optimistic and cheerful as I looked around the tropical winter wonderland. It seemed like as good a place as any to spend Christmas. There were ghosts, but not nearly so many as I would have expected based on my experience. In fact, the only ghosts I saw were those of children and they seemed to be playing games with one another. I caught a cab and had the driver take me to a hotel not to far from the beaches. On the ride I looked over some tourest brochures until I arrived, checked in, and made it to my room with no trouble at all. It was when I looked outside my twelfth story window that my heart sank, and my blood ran cold. Looking inland, I could see literally tens of thousands of the dead souls embraced arm in arm. It looked almost like a hellish version of Hands Across America. As I watched them standing statue like, I couldn’t even guess at what their purpose was. I my self was like a statue in my hotel room as I watched them standing arm in arm. It didn’t take me very long to decide that I should head immediately back to the ship where I would be safer eating slimy turkey as my Christmas dinner alone in the galley.

            When the taxi I was riding back to the ship in began nearing the wall of ghosts, I put my head down and stared into my lap so that I might pass through them undetected. Once past however I had to turn around and look back. As I did so, I saw a dozen of the ghouls had turned around to stare at me as we sped away. Just before turning a corner in the taxi I watched the dozen that had turned plus ten more break free from their chain and give chase. I begged the driver to step on it or I was liable to use his cab as a toilet. In the interest of his cars cleanliness we made good time back to the docks where I threw a more than ample wad of cash up front with the driver and made a beeline for the ship. Once aboard I headed topside to see if the ghosts had managed to catch up with me but spotted only one. I had no way of knowing weather or not it was one that had chased me, but it did seem to be staring up at the carrier like it was looking for something or someone in particular. I watched for a few minutes as it walked up and down the pier looking until finally it’s eyes locked with mine and it stopped walking. As it stared at me, it signaled for me to head back down pier side with the international ‘come here’ gesture. I stood, stared, and shook my head ‘no’. It then pointed in the direction of the hotel I had left, then it stuck its would-be thumb to its would-be throat and did the international ‘your dead’ slicing gesture. I didn’t move. Finally it did one that surprised me. It shrugged, shook it’s head, and turned to walk off stopping once to look over it’s shoulder at me and give me the finger before moving on. I hadn’t a clue as to what to make of that. I waited to see more, but when it  was out of sight I headed below decks for my Christmas eve dinner.

           

            Christmas morning was full of the hung over sailors returning to the ship and preparing to head back out. After five hours of boarding and preparations we heaved off and set back out to sea on rout to Hong Kong. It was a lonely and uneventful Christmas day, but at least I didn’t have to worry about ghosts of Christmas past, resent, or future ruining my mundane festivities. As I said, Christmas that year was boring as can be. The day after on the other hand was something else altogether.

            We woke up to the call to General Quarters. The entire ship was instantly alive with activity as each person rushed up and down the ladders and passage ways to their assigned posts. I had chosen my post to be the central galley where there were enough people that I would seem invisible amongst them and escape the head count. Once in place the Skipper made an announcement. It seems that in the night a tsunami had rocketed through the Indian Ocean smashing nations as it made landfall. The beach that many of the crew had spent the weekend on, where my hotel had been, was one of many locations that had simply and tragically been wiped clean of life. Sri Lanka, India, Indonesia, and Thailand all took more losses than anyone could count as of yet. It had been decided that our ship would be returning to the area to offer whatever assistance we could to the people in need. It blew my mind how many people were against the idea. It was beyond me how anyone could not care, or want to help nations that had just been so horribly devastated regardless of political and religious differences. Fortunately for the giants waves survivors, these selfish fools were not the ones making the decisions.

            As we got into the waters most of us were left speechless. There were houses, furniture, trees, bushes, and a horrid number of bodies of men women and children floating about. There was evidence of massive destruction everywhere we looked. I could see that for many people the sights and smells were horrid, but I assure you that for me it was worse. With every floating body, I could see an attached spirit suffering and screaming as they struggled to free themselves of the torturous salt water. I had assumed that anyone who died in the ocean would automatically be set on the closest landmass like a character in a video game being regenerated. I was wrong. I was also now sure that even ghosts could feel very real fear and pain. When I heard that we wouldn’t be picking up any of the bodies I was at first shocked that we would leave them floating. The reason behind it was that we had nowhere to keep them all, and that they would probably be major carriers of disease from floating in the sea and being nipped at by sharks and fish. I was overall relieved however because I had no interest in these ghosts invading my sanctuary at sea.

           

            Unfortunately, my sanctuary was invaded by every spirit attached to every body that our steel vessel collided with. They still weren’t entirely functional as far as ghosts go on this ship that was surrounded by all salt and no land. I kept my distance as they wandered the passageways crying and looking for their loved ones. It was at that moment I decided that when I could get off this ship I would find my self a house somewhere in Salt Lake City. There had to be few of these miserable creatures there with all the salt in the soil. When we pulled into port back in Thailand, I watched as all of the souls we had picked up fled to the shore. Then my heart nearly stopped when I saw the ghost that had been gesturing me on Christmas Eve work its way up the ramp to come aboard. What I had thought to be impossible was now happening. I ran as quickly as I could down to the bowels of the ship where there was nothing more than storage space below the waterline. I knew it was looking for me, and I prayed that it wouldn’t be able to come down here beneath millions of gallons of heavy water. Just incase, I broke into the storage room to steal myself a container of the galleys table salt.

            In accordance with what was appearing to be a new habit, the impossible happened. The ghost made its way down the ladders to where I hid. It, as it turned out, was a she. She was a younger ghost, perhaps in her twenties, and had an almost Nordic look to her. I figured that she must have died here as a tourist, and a beautiful one at that. She stopped short with only a few steps to go when she spied the salt I was holding at the ready.

“No need for that,” she said, gesturing at my ridiculous weapon, “I only want to inform you that you are known here now. We tried to warn you to warn others, but you’re a coward. Your failure to warn them got them all killed.”

As she spoke, more and more ghosts joined her lining the stairs waiting for me to lower my salt. I poured salt onto the ground and made my way back deeper into the storage room.

            Several hours passed before our stalemate came to an end. I recall them rushing me from the stairs, and I remember taking several blows before the blackness set in. When I woke up I was in more pain than I would have thought possible. I felt like every inch of my body was being squeezed and I was burning as though I had been dipped in acid. I crawled to the steps and slowly made my assent up ladder after ladder until I reached the galley. It was apparently lunch or dinner time judging by the massive line for food. I backed away from the crowds and tried to work my way to medical. I was feeling better already, but I knew that I was still in bad shape. I could barley move my feet and each breath had to be forced. No one seemed to care about me enough to offer a hand, which wasn’t that unusual on a ship this size, and I was already exhausted so I sat at a table to catch my breath and rest for a minute. Two guys, a seaman and a third class petty officer were in mid conversation when they sat at my table. The third class sat next to me, and the seaman across from him.

“Yea, I heard that he was all kinds of tore up. They wouldn’t even have know who he was if he hadn’t had his ID in his pocket.”

“He was Ships Company, wasn’t he?” the seaman asked.

“Well that’s the messed up thing. They found out that he got kicked out of the navy a while ago. I guess and was just kind of squatting on the ship.”

Why would anyone want to live on this boat if they didn’t have to?”

“Beats me, but I guess he must have made some enemies to get beat down like that.”

I was getting pretty curious about what they were talking about when a third person joined in with their own question, “Who has enemies?” he asked as he set his tray down and sat across from me. It dawned on me then that I knew exactly who they were talking about. I knew…

Ticket To Ride

            Death came suddenly as an uninvited guest to Albert. At forty years old, he just wasn’t ready to die. He had only just begun to really enjoy life and be successful, but the car that hit him didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even realize what had happened to him until one of the devils minions explained it to him at the gates of hell. When Albert asked through a veil of tears why he was in hell rather than heaven, he was told by the smirking demon that hell is where people go who didn’t care about others. You didn’t even have to be an actively bad person to earn you ticket to the ferry of The River Styx, all you had to do was nothing of consequence.

            Albert, terrified and angry, begged the minion to let him make a deal. Anything, he said. What ever you want, he said. Like a good used car salesmen, the evil deity told Albert that he had to discuss prices with the boss and that Albert should wait there, as though he were going to wander off somewhere, and he disappeared into the void. Moments later, It was back with the offer. The offer was this; Albert could be returned to life until he asked to be returned to hell. He could have all the time he wanted, but his soul was to burn as had already been determined by the powers that be. Albert’s was ecstatic about the offer, and had already began making plans in his mind to turn his life around and to work tirelessly to please the ever forgiving God who could doubtlessly trump Satan’s legal system. Albert agreed to the easy terms and conditions, and felt himself being lifted up and thrown back into his body, leaving behind a demon who was laughing with far more ironic humor that Albert liked to hear.

            As quickly as Albert was placed back into his corpus terra, the fierce and burning pain hit him. His entire body, inside as well as out, burned the way he imagined an acid bath would feel. He struggled for air that wouldn’t come, and flailed his arms and legs as much as was possible as stiff as they were. He tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t open. He tried to force his eyes to see, but they two were sealed tighter than Fort Knox. His stiff and burning arms and legs beat against satin lined walls, and he finally saw what hells gate keeper found so amusing.

            Albert had been returned to life all right, but not the life he had hoped for. He was trapped inside his casket buried beneath the dirt with sewn shut eyes that couldn’t see and a sewn shut mouth that would never again open. His lungs had been removed with the rest of his organs, and his veins and muscles were being pickled by the formaldehyde that the mortician had filled him with. He wanted out. Needed out. The only thing Albert wanted with this new terrible life was to tell Satan, scream to Satan, that he was ready to return and make his passage across the river into hell; anything would be better than this. As strong as his will was however, his lips would never again part enough to form the words needed to release him.              

Justice

            The butterflies in Marks stomach felt like they were having a full on battle royal as the world went silent and his car became airborne. His mind went completely blank as the surge of adrenalin took over every fiber of his being. He didn’t even think of the figure of the little girl whom he had seen in the middle of road. Not yet any way. The rise of land on the lip of the dam next to the road had done a magnificent job of launching his mustang and sending it into a nosedive and landing it in the shallow river. The pain of the impact didn’t hit him right away when front bumper touched down sending all the breath out of his lungs. He heard what had to have been ribs and a collarbone breaking over the sound of the generic pop music still coming at him from the stereo, but there was no pain. The car had come to a complete stop and held it’s place for just a moment before it slowly began to tip upside down into the shallow rapids. The pain kicked in at the precise moment that the window all exploded from the weight of the car landing on it’s roof. The breath that had been knocked out of him was blown that much further away by the rush of cold water that pounded his head forcing little shards of the safety glass into his left ear, nose, and mouth. Spitting, he tried to pull his face towards his knees to get his head out of the water letting him breath. The need for oxygen was far more powerful than the stabbing pain shooting through his ribs and collar. Above him, the girl was looking down at him in the river with a smile on her face. Disappeared. He blinked water out of his eyes, and when he opened them again she was gone.  
            As mark struggled to keep his head above the water he remembered the face of the girl. She was no stranger, he realized, but she was dead. Dead and buried. So what was she doing here? How could she be here?. Didn’t she know it was an accident? He never meant to hurt her, just love her and make love to her. If she hadn’t screamed so damn much for help, he would have let her go afterwards. He would have removed the pillow from her face before it was too late. But now it seemed that she had come back to insight her revenge.
            He couldn’t hold back the pain any more and had to lean back and stop struggling to rest his destroyed ribs. When he attempted to pull his head back towards his knees he felt a rib tare into his right lung sending him into a painful coughing fit and forced his head and face back under the water. As he chocked on the water drowning, the girl was smiling at him from the side of the car where she stood unaffected by the moving water. When his painful end finally came, she watched his soul being dragged from his body and down to the pits where it would live in pain and fear for eternity. The girl smiled as she faded from the river and the world.

END

Muller

            Surrounded by luxury in his downtown high-rise penthouse home was where Henry Muller wanted to die, and that is exactly where it happened. He had built this city from nothing, designing buildings and funding businesses to fuel the infrastructure. Muller Ohio was his legacy; his gift to the state if not the world at large. Now, it was his bustling metropolis of a tomb thanks to his untimely heart attack.

            Shed of his body, Henry carried on in more ways than just a name. His spirit roamed the city keeping an eye on the people and buildings as the years progressed. Although for reasons unknown to him he was restricted to the city limits, he never felt trapped by this though. He did however feel lonely, but listening to the conversations and watching the families of his city live their lives and grow up helped with that. That is until the days after The Hole opened.

            Ohio, known for many things, is perhaps most famous for its coalmines of the past. Most of them have closed down long ago, but the coal is still there as are the tunnels that led to them. Sometimes on accident, and sometimes on purpose, fires were set in these mines and although the coal fires don’t burn with the bright fury of gasoline, the slow smolder can do far more damage in the long course of geology. Muller is a perfect example of this.

            On a warm Tuesday morning in June, steam began to rise from the storm drains along the eastern edge of the city. The steam was largely ignored because it looked not to different than the steam you might see rising from the streets after a summer rain passed until a sinkhole taking up nearly an entire city block opened up swallowing an entire community of townhouses including all the residents unfortunate enough to be home at the time. Flames replaced the homes then and those spread with the unbridled quickness of herpes in a fraternity house. The fires were brought under control before they spread to the rest of the city, but to much damage had already been done. The surveying of the underground mine fires as a result showed that the entire metropolis of Muller and most of the suburban sprawl was at risk of suffering the same fate. It had to be evacuated, closed down, and boarded up.

            Over the next few months that followed the fires, everyone and their belongings were forced out. Henry watch in growing despair as they all moved on to other cities, other towns and new lives outside of his watchful eyes. Being as the businesses moved as well, many jobs were relocated rather than lost, but enough of the jobs simply ceased to exist to cause an economic upset. Hundreds of people therefore stayed behind to live as squatters illegally in the closed down city. With water and power shut off, they lived poorly and many died quickly and quietly in the nights. Henry could only watch all of this happen. His beautiful buildings rotting due to neglect, his people run off the land, or die for staying, and is dreams and legacy becoming a runaway nightmare with no hope of waking. All that was left were junkies, whores, pillars of smoke, and his crumbling monoliths of success gone to sour rot.