AAN Short Stories

2008-03-01T04:01:00.000-05:00

February 2008

An Actor's Nightmare Presents

#9 Secret Agent Man

By Jerome Wetzel

To Lisa Pruitt

Because you deserve one, and this one has a cool name.

April 13 B.G. ~ Wester Jeffersonville, Ohio

“Your resume is impressive.”

“Thank you,” said the strange man, whom no one had ever seen around before. Wester Jeffersonville was a small enough town that most people knew most people, with the exception of the kids that showed up for college, and then left just as quickly four years later. But a local manager for Pilot’s Pizza had moved suddenly, and this man coincidentally showed up at the right time, looking for a job. And if his resume was any indication, Pilot’s Pizza had lucked out.

“So, tell me, what brings you to our little town?” asked the pizza shop owner, Mike.

“I needed a change of scenery, and I remembered Wester Jeffersonville fondly from my days at the University. And, of course, I always loved Pilot’s Pizza,” he said.

“Of course,” said Mike, although something about this seemingly perfect man seemed off. Not necessarily in a bad way, but like everything he said just couldn’t be true. For instance, Mike had never heard anyone refer to Wester Jeffersonville as ‘the University’. “Well, you certainly seem more than qualified. Do you have a family?”

“No. I’m just a single man. A roving bachelor,” said the man, flashing a charming smile. Mike frowned slightly. The man had to be at least forty, probably older. And while he probably still had money left over from the dot com company he used to run, according to his resume, why choose this quiet, peaceful village? And why this job?

“Why do you want to be a pizza manager?” asked Mike, voicing his musing.

“I’ve done many things, and like I said, I needed a change. Something simple, yet challenging,” said the man.

“And you think that managing some shifts here will fit the bill?”

“Yes, I do,” said the man.

“I see,” said Mike, still studying the paper.

“You seem hesitant. Is there anything I can do to set your mind at ease?” asked the man.

“No, no. You’re definitely qualified,” said Mike. “Over qualified, in fact. It’s just… It feels like I knew that you were coming before you got here,” said Mike.

“Did you?” asked the man, with curiosity.

“Well, you’re perfect for the job anyway, as long as you don’t mind the salary,” said Mike.

“Money isn’t so important to me anymore. I looking for something I can love doing,” said the man. “Do I get the job?”

“Yes. Yes, I think you do,” said Mike. “Louis will get you an apron and show you around while I fill out a little paperwork. Louis!” A large man appeared in the doorway of the small office. “Louis, this is our new manager.”

“Hello,” said Louis. “I’m Louis Ratcliff. Welcome to Pilot’s Pizza.”

The strange man stuck out his hand to shake Louis’s. He said, “Nice to meet you, Louis. I’m Mark Hall.”

“So what’s your story, Mark?” asked Louis. The two were the last two left in the restaurant. Louis was mopping while Mark counted the money.

“Nothing special. I went to college here in Wester Jeffersonville, then I moved out to Oregon. I did well with an internet company, sold it for a nice sum, and then moved back here to live the quiet life. That’s really the whole story,” said Mark.

“I’ll bet you’ve seen plenty of interesting things,” said Louis. “And after building a successful business, why come back here to work in a pizza shop?”

“Just looking for something to do besides sit around and county my money, I guess,” said Mark with a smile. “What about you? Why do you work here?”

“I only put in a couple shifts a week. I’m a prison guard, but my boy’s almost a teenager now, and college costs keep going up. I figured I’d earn a little extra money,” said Louis.

“You have a son?” asked Mark.

“Yep, Vince,” said Louis proudly. He pulled out his wallet. “Here’s his picture, and that’s my wife, Mandy.”

“You have a very nice family, Louis,” said Mark, smiling at the picture and pushing his own feelings aside. Mark missed his own wife in Oregon and their seven children. They were the most precious thing in the world to him, and he hated being away on these long term assignments, pretending they didn’t exist.

“Thank you,” said Louis, smiling. “I’m done here…”

“Go ahead and go home,” said Mark. “I’m almost done myself.”

“I can wait for you,” offered Louis.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks, Louis. See you later,” said Mark.

“Bye,” said Louis, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. Mark watched him go, and then immediately dropped the pile of twenty dollar bills in his hand. He had finished the closing count ages ago, and had just been waiting for Louis to leave. Mark dropped below the desk and grabbed the knapsack he had stuck there. He pulled out a series of small cameras and began placing them in various spots all around the restaurant.

Sticking a dozen of so of the tiny, stickable recorders Mark headed for the back door. As he opened it, he almost knocked over Louis.

“What are you still doing here?” asked Mark in surprise.

“My car won’t start,” said Louis, eyeing him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, you just startled me,” said Mark.

“There are some jumper cables in the closet. Mind helping me out?” asked Louis.

“Not at all,” said Mark, forcing a smile as Louis disappeared back into the pizza shop. He looked over at Louis’s car. Louis delivered pizzas. His car was his income. He kept it in good shape. Suspicious, Mark scanned the bushes for any signs of the activity he had been sent here to find. He saw nothing, but that didn’t make him feel any easier. He scanned Louis’s battery and engine, looking for any sign of a booby trap.

“You interested in cars?” asked Louis, and for the second time in a few minutes, Mark jumped in surprise. He mentally berated himself. He was a spy, for goodness sakes, and a good one, too! He shouldn’t allow himself to be spooked so easily.

“Not really. Just seeing if I saw anything obviously wrong,” said Mark.

“I looked already. Everything seems fine. Open up your hood,” said Louis.

“Sure thing,” said Mark, moving to his own truck, parked beside Louis’s little car. He opened the hood, but continued looking inside the car for anything out of the ordinary.

“That should do it,” said Louis, clicking the jumper cables into place. This time Mark avoided a jump, but he inwardly flinched, half expecting something to happen. Louis moved to his car to start it.

“Wait!” said Mark.

“What?” asked Louis, looking at him in confusion.

“Give me the keys. I’ll start your car,” said Mark. “Stand back.”

“Um, ok…,” said Louis, hesitantly handing over his keys. Mark took them, ignoring the strange reaction.

“Further,” he told Louis as the delivery driver stepped back about ten feet. “Further.”

“It’s just a jumper cable, Mark,” said Louis.

“Better safe than sorry,” said Mark. He swallowed. If this was how he was going to die, he had no regrets. He had a good life and a good family. He certainly didn’t want to be blown to pieces. He hadn’t seen anything wrong with the car, but he was still suspicious, and he wasn’t about to risk an innocent man like Louis to find out if he was right. Closing his eyes, he turned the key.

The car rumble to a start. Nothing else happened.

“Thanks, man,” said Louis, eyeing Mark oddly as he unhooked the cables and slid into the driver’s seat.

“No problem. Have a good evening,” said Mark, trying to be friendly and pretend like he hadn’t just made a total fool of himself. He waved as Louis drove away, then returned to installing cameras. Now, though, he stopped every few minutes to scan the bushes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

“Do you have a report for me?” asked Dr. Smith as soon as Mark made the connection on his laptop. Mark’s middle aged boss looked at him from his own control center, a building only about twenty minutes away. Mark could have given his report in person, but Dr. Smith liked to stay cautious. He didn’t want to raise questions about Mark’s coming and goings from the office if the agent was being watched.

“I still think there’s something here,” said Mark. “But I just don’t know what.”

“That’s how I’ve been feeling for months. That’s why I sent you,” said Dr. Smith.

“Have you figured out who my charge is yet?” asked Mark.

“No. I just know it is someone that works at Pilot’s Pizza,” said Dr. Smith. “The goose network is way beyond my modest hacking capabilities, but that file I glimpsed in Wales definitely listed the pizza shop on it.”

“There could be dozens of Pilot’s Pizzas in the world,” said Mark.

“There are seventeen,” said Dr. Smith. “But I have seen other signs of geese in Wester Jeffersonville, and I’m not about to abandon my hometown. I want you to figure out who the geese are after, and bring them in to me. I can keep them safe.”

“Easier said than done,” said Mark.

“You finished wiring the shop?” asked Dr. Smith.

“Yep. You should be able to access the cameras now,” said Mark. Dr. Smith looked off screen and hit a few buttons. He turned back to the camera with a smile.

“Excellent job, Mark,” said Dr. Smith.

“Any idea how much longer I might be here, boss?” asked Mark. “Judy’s birthday is coming up…”

“I am truly sorry that you might have to miss your daughter’s birthday, Mark, I really am,” said Dr. Smith. “But you know what’s at stake here.”

“Of course, sir. I was only asking. I wasn’t requesting to be taken off of the assignment,” said Mark.

“Of course not,” said Dr. Smith. “I’ll check back with you in two days. See what you can find out.”

“Will do,” said Mark. He closed the connection, then opened up his mission observations. There were thirty-three employees at Pilot’s Pizza, and anyone of them could be a target for the geese. At this stage, Dr. Smith wasn’t sure why certain people were being watched. Mark had done a number of reconnaissance missions of this type, and while he had identified targets, he still had no idea why they were targets. And so far, there didn’t seem to be a connection between the people that were being surveyed. They were old, young, of different ethnicities, and lived in all corners of the planet.

Mark pounded his fist in frustration onto the desk, making the laptop jump slightly. Just what were those little beaked bastards up to, anyway? And who were they after?

A feathery shape watched Pilot’s Pizza in the twilight, secure in her hiding spot behind a clump of bushes. She watched the delivery driver, Louis Ratcliff, pull away from the curb. She made note of it in her log, as she always did. Then a strong arm grabbed her around the neck and yanked her backwards. She was unable to make a sound, as a heavy body pressed her face into the ground. She felt he wings being tied to her torso, and a hood went over her head. Then a sharp thump on the head knocked her out.

When she came to, she was strapped to a chair made for geese in a plain looking basement. A man sat staring back at her from a human-built chair. He was about forty-ish, with a hint of grey at his temples. Muscular, yet slim. Toned would be a good word to describe him. The look he was giving her sent shivers up her spine.

“Who are you?” she asked, but the man just stared at her.

“I’m Mark, but that doesn’t matter. Let’s start with, who are you?” suggested Mark, eyes blazing.

“Like I’d tell you,” scoffed the goose.

“Look, I’m going to find out,” said Mark. “I’ve done this many times before, and I’ve never once not broken a goose that I’ve questioned.” He made the word question sound like a threat. Her eyes drifted to a low table full of tools, all of which looked like they would inflict no small amount of pain on her.

“Which one of those are you going to use first?” she asked, trying to appear brave.

“I’m hoping to not have to use any of them,” said Mark.

“Then just how do you expect to get me to talk?” asked the goose. Mark didn’t answer, but just stared at her indifferently. “Brilliant. Silent treatment. I guarantee you that I am perfectly content to sit here in silence. Maybe I’ll even take a nap.” Again, Mark didn’t respond. He was obviously a professional. She didn’t doubt for one minute that he had tortured geese before. She thought of her young daughter, and hoped that she wouldn’t hear the details of her mother’s death. The goose had no doubt this would end with her dying.

“Let’s try again. Who are you?” asked Mark.

“Ah. You can’t take the silence either. Good, good,” said the goose, as if she had just gained a valuable piece of information.

“I don’t play games,” said Mark, standing up. “Until you have something to say, we’re done here.” He turned and headed for the stairs, but paused as he passed the table of scary looking devices. “While I sincerely hope to not have to use these, that doesn’t mean that he won’t.”

“What have you found out?” asked Dr. Smith anxiously from the screen.

“The goose’s name is Jiki. She works for a female named Visna. I don’t know what branch of the Goose Intelligence Network Visna works for, but I’m assuming that she is GIN,” said Mark. “I still don’t know who Jiki was sent to spy on.”

“A bit slower than usual, eh Mark?” asked Dr. Smith, but despite the wording, neither man found the situation amusing. Dr. Smith was glad that Mark could stand doing a little torturing, because he knew that he would never be able to if their positions were reversed. Mark, for his part, detested this part of his job above any other.

“Jiki is not the usual captive. She is more resolved,” said Mark. “To be honest, I’ve never met a goose as strong as she is.”

“Still, she is breaking. She gave up the name of her boss,” said Dr. Smith.

“Yes, she did, but she’s barely able to physically talk. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get much more out of her,” said Mark.

“Have you located her cell?” asked Dr. Smith.

“That’s the other odd thing. I’ve seen no sign that Jiki came with any other goose,” said Mark.

“They always work in a unit,” said Dr. Smith.

“I know, sir,” said Mark, frustrated. “This entire situation is very confusing. Believe me, I have looked, and I don’t miss much. If there were other geese around, I would have found some sign of them by now.”

“You are the best, Mark,” said Dr. Smith. “This development just makes me uneasy. Is it possible that we’re dealing with some sect of geese that weren’t aware of before this?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Mark. “I do believe she’s GIN, but she’s different. It’s strange. It’s like she actually fully believes in what she’s doing. I feel more like a bad guy when I interrogate her than I ever have in my entire life. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“See that you do,” said Dr. Smith.

“Did you send Judy the present I requested?” asked Mark.

“Of course. I wrote her up a nice birthday card personally,” Dr. Smith assured him. “She’ll never know that you didn’t write it.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Mark gratefully.

“Of course. Good luck,” said Dr. Smith, signing off. Mark glanced back at the basement door. With a long sigh, he headed back down to continue his work.

“You’ve seemed off lately. Everything going ok?” asked Louis, mopping once again as Mark did the closing paperwork.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Mark distractedly.

“We can go and get a drink if you want to talk about it,” said Louis.

“No, seriously, I’m good,” said Mark. “But thanks.”

“No problem, man,” said Louis. “Offer stays open.”

“You about done?” asked Mark.

“Almost,” said Louis. “Anxious to get rid of me?”

“Anxious to get home. It’s been a long day,” said Mark.

“How come you never got married?” asked Louis. “A smart, rich, good looking man like you? It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Never found the right woman, I guess,” lied Mark. The right woman is half a country away right now, and he wished desperately he could be back with her.

“Uh, huh,” said Louis, unconvinced. “There’s plenty of right women out there.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had other priorities,” said Mark.

“You don’t seem to anymore. I’ve got a friend…,” began Louis.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” said Mark.

“I think you’d be a lot less tense if you just got laid, at least,” said Louis.

“Louis, I’m fine. Please just let me count the money,” said Mark.

“Fine, fine. I’m done anyway. See you tomorrow,” said Louis sourly.

“Yeah. See you,” said Mark, not looking up as the back door closed. When it opened again, though, he did look up, though he couldn’t quite see the door from the office. “What’d you forget Louis?”

“I’m not Louis,” said Mike, coming around the corner. “You should really lock the back door at night. Don’t want you getting robbed.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Mark, hand leaving the gun hidden under his shirt. He had gone for it on pure reflex. In his keyed up state, Mark almost wished it had been a burglar. He wouldn’t have gotten any money. “What’s up, Mike?”

“The security cameras have been getting some interference lately,” said Mike.

“Oh?” asked Mark, looking up and hiding his surprise. Could he have been sloppy enough to mess with the legitimate cameras when placing his own stealth ones?

“Yeah. I figured I’d come in while it’s quiet and see if I can figure it out,” said Mike.

“I’ll do it, Mike,” said Mark.

“Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Just finish up, go home, and get some rest. Louis said you’ve been a little out of sorts lately,” said Mike.

“Really, it’s no problem,” said Mark. “I’ve had training in that sort of thing.”

“Seriously? They train internet CEO’s to run cheap security cameras?” asked Mike.

“Well, it’s more of a hobby,” said Mark.

“Look, I know there’s something you’re not telling me,” said Mike. “Just tell me right now if I’m going to regret trusting you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mike,” said Mark. “Anyway, I’m done with the deposit. I’ll look for that interference now.”

“Ok,” said Mike. “It only seems to be affecting the one above the sink.”

“Hmm,” said Mark, following the owner into the kitchen. The camera installed by Mike was clearly visible, and though Mark knew where his own cameras were, he didn’t see any that would cause what Mike was talking about. He scanned the ceiling, both men not spotting anything.

“Hey, is that something in the vent?” asked Mark suddenly.

“What? Where?” asked Mike.

“Better get a ladder,” said Mark.

“I’ll be right back,” said Mike, casting a wary eye towards his manager. He disappeared out the back door to get a ladder from the shed. As soon as he was gone, Mark pulled out a device from his pocket and began waving it around. The scanner should pick up any electronic device transmitting a signal. Bingo. There it was, stuck in the wall, looking like a screw that was no longer used. Mark quickly yanked it from its spot, just as Mike came back around the corner.

“I don’t see anything up there, Mark,” said Mike, peering into the vent.

“My bad. Maybe I am just tired,” said Mark. “I think I will go home and get some rest.”

“Ok. See you tomorrow,” said Mike, still looking into the vent.

“It’s not like any GIN camera I’ve ever seen before,” said Mark. He shook his head. It had been ringing for an hour, since he got home. He didn’t know why.

“What is it?” asked Dr. Smith from the screen.

“I don’t know,” said Mark, turning the screw over and over in his hand. “I’ll mail it to for analysis.”

“It must be some new model we haven’t seen before,” said Dr. Smith.

“I thought you said that geese didn’t develop new models of anything,” said Mark.

“I could be wrong. It was just a theory. Or maybe we’ve just never encountered this,” said Dr. Smith.

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up,” said Mark. “I still can’t break Jiki, and I get the feeling that she would never be so sloppy as to plant a camera near one that it could interfere with.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Mark,” said Dr. Smith.

“Yeah, they do,” said Mark, still looking at the screw. “Myself included. Hang on a minute, will you?”

“Of course,” said Dr. Smith. Mark ran out towards the back of his house, which was slightly outside of town. It was modest, but had a nice pond behind it, bordering several spread out houses. He picked up speed as the annoyance in his head grew stronger. He pitched the screw as far as he could into the pond. A brilliant explosion erupted above the surface. One that could have taken out half of Mark’s house.

Mark ran back to his basement as fast as he could. “You son of a bitch,” he said, grabbing Jiki and slamming her against the wall. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know… what you’re talking about,” managed Jiki from her cracked and bleeding beak.

“Shut up. You’re still communicating with your bosses,” said Mark. He pulled out his scanner again and quickly found a small transmitter inside Jiki’s ear. He yanked it out and threw it on the ground, smashing it with his boot. He did another scan of Jiki, found nothing, then returned to the computer.

“You ok, Mark?” asked Dr. Smith.

“Fine now,” said Mark, hearing the far off fire engine approaching. “It wasn’t a camera. It was a bomb. I didn’t scan Jiki for hidden electronics. Whoever she worked for must have planted it, knowing I’d find it and take it home.”

“You’ve been home for an hour, Mark. If they wanted to kill you, they could have done it,” said Dr. Smith.

“They wanted to kill us both,” said Mark. “I hadn’t been down to see Jiki yet.”

“If they failed this time, they’ll try again,” warned Dr. Smith.

“I know,” said Mark. “Unless they don’t think they have anything to gain. I need to get rid of Jiki and finish this mission.”

“Do what you need to do. I’ll be in touch,” said Dr. Smith, closing the connection. A knock came from the front door. Mark rose and calmly walked towards it.

“We got reports of an explosion. Did you see anything?” asked the police officer at the door.

“I heard it, of course, officer, but I was on my computer. I didn’t see a thing,” said Mark.

“Thanks. Here’s my card. If you hear anything, let us know,” said the officer.

“I will,” said Mark. “I most certainly will.”

“Morning, Mike,” said Mark, walking into the pizza shop.

“I need to speak to you in my office,” said Mike angrily.

“Um, sure,” said Mark, following his boss in. Mike closed the door hard. Mark had never seen him angry, let alone furious, as he was right now.

“You’re fired. Get out of town right now,” demanded Mike.

“What? I don’t understand. Why?” asked Mark.

“You know why. I almost had them off my back, and then you showed up. You’re ruining everything!”

“Mike, calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Mark.

“Yes, you do, and I’m not going to spell it out,” said Mike. “I know they’ve been watching me for months, and I had left them enough evidence to make them stop watching me that they were finally leaving. And then you came, and started poking your nose around. I followed you home last night. I saw the explosion. I don’t know who you’re working for, but you need to leave.”

“Mike…,” said Mark, still mostly confused.

“I’m serious. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t want any of this. I just want to be left alone to run my pizza shop in peace,” said Mike. “I don’t want them watching me, and I don’t want you watching me.”

“With all due respect, I’m not watching you,” said Mark.

“I know about Dr. Smith,” said Mike.

“How do you…?” began Mark.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you, leave me alone,” said Mike. “I’ve already sent an e-mail to Dr. Smith this morning asking him to do the same.”

“Mike, if you do know who’s watching you, surely you know that they won’t just go away,” said Mark.

“They will,” said Mike. “But not with you around. Will you leave?’

“I need to consult with my boss,” said Mark, finally admitting that he was here for reasons other than working in a pizza restaurant.

“You do that. Don’t take this the wrong way, Mark, because I think you’re a nice guy, but I never want to see your face again in my life,” said Mike.

“Mike…,” began Mark.

“Go,” said Mike. “Now.”

“Ok,” said Mark. “I’m not promising I won’t be back…”

“GO!” shouted Mike angrily. Mark backed out the door and drove away.

“I got his message,” confirmed Dr. Smith. “Take care of Jiki and leave. Maybe you’ll get home in time for some left over birthday cake.”

“I have seven kids. There’ll always be more cake. What’s going on, sir?” asked Mark.

“Mike knows me because of who his family is, and he’s suffered enough. I’ve done a little digging myself, and I think he’s right. I think he was being watched because of his family connections, and not because he’s actually done anything. The geese will leave him alone if they don’t think he knows that they are around, and if they think that he poses no threat. He has convinced me that is the case,” said Dr. Smith.

“So we just leave?” asked Mark. “That time, that goose… It was all for nothing?”

“Sometimes a mission is, Mark,” said Dr. Smith.

“Not this one. Not that goose,” said Mark. “Jiki is different. I’m not convinced she’s GIN.”

“Then who can she possibly be working for?” asked Dr. Smith.

“I don’t know,” said Mark.

“I don’t think there’s anything here, Mark,” said Dr. Smith. “If you had a lead you wanted to follow up on, great, but if you don’t have anything, let’s get you out of town before Jiki’s employers come after you.”

“I don’t like this,” said Mark. “Something just doesn’t feel right about the whole situation.”

“I know,” said Dr. Smith. “I’m satisfied with Mike’s explanation, but what you’ve told me about Jiki has me worried. However, as you have gotten nothing out of her, nor found any sign of her compatriots in town, I don’t think anything will be accomplished by you staying, and out of respect to Mike’s family, I don’t want to risk him any more. Your presence does that. Pack up and go home.”

“Understood, sir,” said Mark. “And Jiki?”

“The usual disposal,” said Dr. Smith darkly. Mark knew what he meant. He would be expected to kill Jiki and hide the body. He’d probably put this one in the pond. He’d done it plenty of times before, but for the first time, he didn’t feel right about it.

But Dr. Smith was right. Even if Mark did stay in town, he had no idea where to look. It was a series of dead ends, and now that it was apparent that he was doing more harm than good to his mission, namely protecting Mike, it was time to cut his losses. Mark couldn’t think of a single argument for staying.

“Ok, sir. I’ll see you soon,” said Mark, closing his laptop. He headed for the basement. He couldn’t help but feel that this story was far from over, even if he didn’t think he’s see the ending.

2007-12-01T04:01:00.000-05:00

December 2007

An Actor's Nightmare Presents

#8 Front Line
The Journal of Clark Adama

By Jerome Wetzel

To Clint Narramore

You win. You always do.

November 30, (year deleted)

I never expected any of this. Who would have thought that I would be one of the last survivors of the human race? Only days ago I sat with my family around Grandma’s dining room table and enjoyed a bountiful feast, and now they are all dead. Everyone is dead. All that is left of the city I grew up in is a smoldering mound of ashes. It doesn’t seem real. It seems like a bad dream that I can wake up from any moment now, but I know that it isn’t. I’ve been waiting to wake up for days. I don’t think I ever will.

Why did I survive? I went to get milk. That’s all. Milk. Well, that’s not completely true. If I had just wanted to get milk, I could have gone around the corner to Mr. Hooper’s little store. But I needed a break from them all. I love my family… Excuse me, loved. They were very kind and warm and involved. Too involved. That’s why I decided to drive twenty miles outside of the city to get milk before I returned. It isn’t that I don’t love them, it’s just…

I did it again. Loved. They’re gone. They’re all dead. I think. I’m pretty sure. I didn’t see them myself, of course. A bomb like that is bound to give off more radiation than I could survive, but I saw the devastation from the outskirts, and no one could have survived it. All I can see for miles is rubble, and their house was even further towards the epicenter than I can see. My mother, my father, my grandma, my aunts, my uncle, my cousins, my girlfriend, hell, even my dog… They’re all dead. It’s a concept I just can’t wrap my head around. I keep expecting to see them. I wake up from a few minutes of snatched sleep and turn to hold Delilah to me, and she isn’t there. No one is. Just smoke, and ashes, and bodies.

I wish I had died with them. There’s nothing left in this world. I’ve seen a handful of people, mostly from a distance, raiding stores, fighting over a scrap of bread. It’s the saddest sight I’ve ever seen. I never approach anyone. I figure I’m meant to be alone. I’m probably meant to be dead, but leave it to me to not even be able to do that right. Delilah is going to give me so much crap when… Oh.

I don’t know what to do, or where to go. I’ve been hiding out, sleeping, circling the city, looking for any sign that part of it could have survived, but I didn’t have much hope to begin with, and what I’ve found isn’t encouraging. I did find this notebook, though, and a few pens. I was never much of a writer, but I feel like I should start, you know? Chronicle humanity’s last breaths for some future alien race to find, or whatever. Near as I can tell, we got hit hard by nukes, and if someone bombed Baton Rouge, I’m sure the U.S. fought back, so we’re probably talking total nuclear holocaust here. An uplifting note to end on.

December 8, (year deleted)

Geese! It was bracking geese that attacked us! I wasn’t sure, at first. I saw some small shapes skulking around, thought they were kids with rags or something. Nope. It’s some damn birds with assault rifles. How in the hell did geese get assault rifles? I know in this country we have the right to bear arms, but this is just ridiculous! I found a couple of them the other night, camping near my latest hiding spot. I snuck up, thinking I shouldn’t let kids wander alone in this, but I stopped when I heard them talking. They speak, English by the way, the bastards. That’s our language. Turns out the birds bombed our cities. Now I know this must be a dream, I just don’t know why I haven’t woken up. I should have bashed in their skulls, but I ran. I couldn’t face them.

This past week wasn’t any easier than the one before it. I haven’t felt like writing much. I know I should. I said I would. But when you spend all day looking for something to eat, and avoiding humans and geese, the last thing you feel like doing at night is writing. A journal seemed like a good idea at the time. I just don’t have anything else to write about. I already told you that we were bombed, and from the way those soldier birds were talking, I think they bombed the whole world.

The humans are being rounded up. The few of us that are left, anyway. I haven’t been captured, but I don’t think I can stay around the city any longer. I set off into the woods today, trying to put as much distance between me and those nightmarish scenes as I can. Don’t know how far I’ll make it, but anything is better than sitting around and waiting to get caught by evil geese. Who knows what they do to the people that they catch? I don’t want to find out!

December 28, (year deleted)

I’ve been captured.

January 3, (year deleted)

I can’t believe the damn birds caught me. I thought if I got far enough away from Baton Rouge, I’d be ok, but they’re everywhere! They got me while I was sleeping, of course. Damn biological needs. I only slept a couple of hours at a time as I ran, but, of course, I have the worst luck in Louisiana. I thought they’d kill me, but they just put me in a truck with a bunch of other people. No one I know, not that I expected to know any of them.

We’ve been in a holding pen now for a couple of days. I guess they bring people here to wait until they know where to ship us. I’m going to be a slave. I saw that old miniseries a few years ago, with that slave that was taken from Africa. His family ended up being owned for generations. Maybe someday one of my descendants will write a book about me being captured. Nah. I think this time it’s over for the human race. These geese had it too well planned. There won’t be any escape.

Waiting is boring. I should be glad to be alive, or worried about what’s going to happen to me, but four days of sitting in this pen, surrounded by other humans, not allowed to bathe, barely fed, I’m bored. There’s nothing to do. No one wants to talk, and my mouth is too dry to keep up a conversation, anyway. I get the impression we’re going to be waiting a long time. I mean, they just bombed us a little over a month ago. I doubt they have any places for us to work yet. I’m actually feeling a little relaxed right now, not like usual.

The screams do keep me up at night. Some of the goose soldiers come in the dark and take a companion. Usually it’s a child. I guess, with the geese being smaller than us, it’s easier for them to… I don’t want to think about what they do to those poor kids. I hear the cries, and I lay there in terror, looking up at the sky. Maybe I should just end it. At least I’d be with my family again.

January 21, (year deleted)

I was rescued yesterday. Not all of the prisoners were, unfortunately, but I was. It was brilliant. I heard gunfire and saw camouflage clad humans run out from the trees, as if appearing from thin air. They took out the nearest guards like they were nothing. Just like a movie. I used to watch a lot of movies. One soldier had a big tool that cut right through the gate, and a bunch of us near the exit took off running. It wasn’t until later, when I had stopped fleeing, and the soldiers had retreated with us, that I found out they were run off and had to leave some of the prisoners behind. The geese fought back. I should have known. This was a squad of maybe fourteen men fighting against dozens of geese. We were bound to lose.

The lead soldier is a man by the name of Tate Maguire. Tate is a retired general from the United States Marines, so he knows his stuff. He told me that Vice President Kennedy survived, and that he is organizing a resistance army. Tate and these other guys were on their way to a meeting point when they saw us. He said that we’re not going back for the rest of the prisoners. We have to meet up with the army on time. I understand. We’d probably all be killed if we go back. They only have about ten guns in the squad total, and are almost out of ammo. But there are still kids back there, and in my last entry I told you what they were doing to the kids. Sort of.

I admit it. I’m ashamed to be surviving, again, when others didn’t. I know the other prisoners aren’t dead, but they might as well be. That would be a better fate than what they’re facing. And the screw up of Baton Rogue lives on. I have no idea why. It’s not like I can do anything to make a difference. I’ve never been good at anything. But for some reason, Tate has taken a liking to me. He says that he wants me in his division when we join the army. I told him I’ll think about it. I’m flattered, but I certainly don’t want to get Tate killed. It seems like everyone around me is destined for something bad to happen to them. I don’t want him to join those ranks.

February 12, (year deleted)

We shipped out today, so to speak. I’m in General Maguire’s group. Just an infantry man. I was tempted to run and hide with the children and elderly, which the army sent to an undisclosed location for protection, but as an able bodied person, still pretty young, I don’t feel like I have a choice. Everyone else is fighting, I have to, too.

Our squad is heading for Tennessee. I don’t know what’s in Tennessee, but Tate, excuse me, I need to get used to calling him General Maguire now, doesn’t either, and that makes me feel a little better. I think El Conquistador Kennedy, as the army guys seem to be calling him, just wants us to spread out and do as much damage as possible. Supposedly, he does have a plan with front lines and such, but most of us are just scouting for bases and trying to deal a little damage to the enemy. I have no complaints. To be honest, the longer I’ve dwelled upon what happened to my family, and to those kids in the holding pen, and to everyone else, the angrier I get. I’m anxious for the opportunity to fight back a little. Getting shot down is much better than killing yourself. This death will seem far more heroic.

I told General Maguire about my journal, and told him that if I die, he should assign one of the men to continue it, for prosperity’s sake, or whatever. He told me that the journal was a great idea, and he told the whole squad that I wasn’t as expendable as the rest of them because I was doing something important. They all laughed, but I think he meant it. Now when we come across a goose, I always end up surrounded by other soldiers, protected. That kind of hinders my plan to die a heroic death, like two members of our group already have, but I’m sure I’ll find a way. If not, it’ll just reaffirm my status as the screw up.

March 9, (year deleted)

General Maguire was pretty upset when he found out that I hadn’t been writing these past few weeks, so he made me stay back here and do this entry while several other soldiers are scouting what we think is an armory. I hope it is. Our ammunition is running low. The only reason it hasn’t run out already is that there are fewer of us these days. We left the big army meeting last month with thirty-six, and we’re already down to twenty-three. At this rate, we’ll be out of people, soon. Word is, the other squads are suffering the same fate. The war isn’t going well. I could have told them that it wouldn’t, but somehow, General Maguire still keeps up hope. He is a good man and a great leader. I could never do what he does. Despite the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us all, he manages to inspire.

We’ve had a few victories, though minor ones. We blew up an entire building full of geese last week. It was just a temporary shelter, and there couldn’t have been more than eight of them in it, but we took out the guards and blew them up, just the same. It was satisfying. I imagined that building as Baton Rouge, and those geese as payment for my family. They say that revenge is cold, and it doesn’t do you a bit of good. I disagree. I know it won’t bring my family back, but at least there are a few less of those bracktards in the world. If I’m going to die, and I’m more and more sure every day that my life’s end is near, I’m going to take as many of them with me as I can.

Hopefully this entry will be long enough for the General. He’d prefer that I write every day, but this notebook isn’t that big. I’ve already filled about a third of it or so. I showed him, and he nodded grimly. He said he’d keep an eye out for more paper, but agreed that I needed to conserve my space. So I will.

March 27, (year deleted)

We were hit hard. There are only four of us left now, including General Maguire. I have felt survivor’s guilt for months, but my guilt has to be nothing compared to what Tate is feeling right now. They snuck up on us in the night, with knives, much more silent than guns. Only the General, myself, and two others managed to get a few shots off as we ran. Most of the others were dead before I woke up. The four of us were near the opposite edge of the clearing from where the geese arrived. Thank brack they didn’t surround us. Listen to me, sounding like I want to live. Tate sure has inspired me. I need to figure out how to do the same for him. He hasn’t said a word in the past twenty-four hours, since the assault happened. That scares me more than anything else that has happened so far.

One of the soldiers did manage to get a hold of a radio on our way out, and she’s been trying to reach another squad all day. None of them must be in range, or they all were killed like our guys and girls were. Hopefully we’ll hear from one soon, and we can meet up with them. The four us can’t possibly do much damage on our own. I just don’t see how we cou

March 28, (year deleted)

I am sad to inform you that at 22:49 last night, General Tate Maguire took his own life.

May 14, (year deleted)

I couldn’t bring myself to write these past six weeks. The last time I sat down to write a journal entry, I was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. I still can’t believe he did it. If someone as strong as Tate Maguire couldn’t survive this war, how could anyone? I really thought we would all die that night. The three of us, left alone, scared. We buried Tate, under a nice tree. We didn’t have anything to mark the grave with, but I’ll never forget where we put him. I’ve never known a greater man.

The three of us wandered for over a week, barely alive, searching for any other humans, arguing constantly about what to do. Diane Wells, the one with the radio, didn’t make it much longer than Tate did, though her death wasn’t self-inflicted. Chris Kulbago, our map guy, was alive until just a few days ago, but sadly the geese got to him, too. Chris and I did eventually meet up with others, mostly other soldiers from destroyed platoons. We banded together, picking up more men and women along the way, and losing them almost as fast. It’s hard enough to survive in an organized squadron. Drifting through the woods, though, without a clear goal, just looking to fight, is a worse idea.

Then we met up with Smitty. I don’t know his full name, or much about him. I know he was a construction worker at some point, and that he still had all of the guys he left his post with a couple of months ago, which is a miracle unto himself. He’s British or something, I was never too good with accents. But we all respect him, and we all call him Smitty. He hasn’t officially declared himself our leader, but we all default to him. Even I have succumbed to his charms. He’s the one who made me write this entry tonight, after weeks of silence. He hasn’t told us that he has a destination, or any certain milestone to hit, but we move out every day now with purpose, and things have gotten a little easier. Thank the gods for Smitty.

June 20, (year deleted)

Smitty is a miracle worker. I do not exaggerate at all when I say that. About a week and a half ago we located a labor camp. Most of the humans have been sent to work in or on geese cities already, but some are still in smaller camps, manufacturing goods and building supplies to build the cities. This camp was on about twenty acres, with almost two hundred humans employed there. There were about five dozen geese soldiers stationed there as guards. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, like the humans should have easily been able to overpower their captors, but it’s just not the case. These geese are heavily armed, and the humans are weak from hunger and work. They probably didn’t need anywhere near five dozen geese to guard them. So Smitty got suspicious.

For days we staked the place out, watching the movements and happenings. Smitty determined it was a jumping off point for assaults. There was a military office with a big general in command there, as well as the labor camps. I, along with most of the others, wanted to put as much distance between us and them as possible, but Smitty would hear none of it, and his original gang backed him up. He said he couldn’t possibly leave those poor people in that state, and especially when the target was of strategic value as well, we couldn’t ignore it. So he worked up a plan.

Last night we stormed the castle, so to speak. It was a complete sneak attack, and with our spy information, we were able to determine where and when to hit them the hardest. We rushed in, took out the guards, and went straight to the sleeping barracks. In less than an hour, we had taken the base. We lost six good soldiers in the attack, but six is much less than I predicted. I thought all thirty three of us were doomed. Smitty decided that we couldn’t stay at the base, as heavily fortified as it was. We destroyed the place, after ransacking it for food and weapons, and Smitty sent a message to some mysterious man that he sends messages to whenever he can. I need to ask him about that sometime. We are currently escorting the humans to a nearby hiding spot. I’m told some of the survivors from my original prison are there, and have been for months. These people should be relatively safe there, and we’ve picked up another dozen or so soldiers in the process. Thanks to Smitty, we did quite a lot of good yesterday.

The only debate was what to do with the geese we captured. Plenty of them had died in our attack, but there were still a fair number of survivors. We all looked to Smitty to decide, and this was when I knew without a doubt what a great leader he was. I saw the warring emotions in his eyes, but he made the tough decision. We had to kill them. They were enemy combatants, not just innocent geese. Yes, I have learned from Smitty that there are such things as innocents, even in the bird race. He did it himself, every one of them. He refused to let any of us help him, or even watch. He closed the garage door, and when he opened it again, every goose soldier lay with their neck snapped on the floor. I know I couldn’t have done it.

I heard him crying last night as the rest of our squad slept. He does more than plan and lead us into battle, though his skills in that regard are admirable. It is one thing to make the tough decisions. It is quite another to act on them. A lesser man may have let them survive, but in this war, we can’t afford to do that. Even Tate would probably have had us shoot them, but not Smitty. No, he tried to protect the men and women under his command as best as he could. Even after all this, he insists that he is not our leader, and we should only follow him if we agree with him. If we had a hundred Smittys, this war would be over by the end of the year, and in our favor.

Oh, yeah, and I saved Smitty’s life. There was a goose sneaking up behind him, and I saw, and I shot the goose between the eyes. Smitty made me write those last two lines after he read the rest of the entry. He says it’s important that my record contain all the facts. I think what I did was what any man would have done, did do, during the battle. I don’t think it was anything special. But Smitty insisted, so I included it. Happy, Smitty?

July 4, (year deleted)

So the humans we rescued that are too old or young or injured to join us have been safely tucked away in their hiding spot, and after two days of R & R, we are back out on the field. Frankly, I would have liked to stay in hiding longer, but Smitty keeps saying that there are more people that need help where these came from, and upon reflection, I agree. Since I joined up with Smitty I have done more good than I have done in the total rest of my life. It is an exhilarating feeling.

Before the war began, today was a holiday. In the United States we celebrated Independence Day on July 4^th. It doesn’t make much sense to celebrate it now. We are not, technically, independent anymore, though our country hasn’t officially fallen. El Conquistador Richard Kennedy is still out there somewhere, I hope. We haven’t had much contact with the outside world recently, and what we have heard isn’t good. But the United States long ago overthrew our British rulers, and someday, hopefully, we will do the same to the geese. Yes, I realize it is ironic that I am once again under the command of a Brit on this day, but I could never see overthrowing Smitty. Even if I wanted to, and I had ten guys that agreed with me, I don’t think we’d have the ability.

I am a little confused by Smitty’s constant optimism. I know we’ve had some great victories, and things have been going in our favor for awhile now, but I feel the constant tightening of the noose wherever we go, and see more and more signs of goose rule. It has been months since we’ve encountered any non-prisoner humans, and I’m beginning to lose hope. If it wasn’t for Smitty, I would have given up on this cause long ago.

September 18, (year deleted)

Finally, another victory. We rescued four humans being taken to a goose city to work. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but the last few months have been particularly rough, which is why I haven’t written in this journal. I didn’t want to waste space talking about defeat after defeat, death after death. Our squad, once numbering over fifty, is back down to a mere thirteen, an unlucky number by most standards, but, I guess, lucky for us today. None of the four will make good soldiers, they’re too young, so we’ll drop them off at some hidden base when we can, though I don’t know how soon that will be.

Not the one we took all of those former prisoners to that I mentioned in my last entry. They were discovered, and most of them were slaughtered. There isn’t really any place that is safe anymore. The geese have been systematically rooting out humans, and I hear it will only get worse next year. Still, it won’t do to travel with civilians. What we do is dangerous enough for us, let alone those not equipped to fight.

Funny that I think of these poor teenagers as civilians. Only a year ago I had never held a gun in my life, and now I’m an embittered solider. In a couple of years, these kids that we rescued will be holding a gun and fighting, too, if they’re still alive. We haven’t resorted to using fourteen year olds in our battles yet, though sometimes I wonder if it isn’t past time. We need every hand that we can get. To say things look bleak would be an understatement. I fear it will all be over soon. I can’t believe I’ve survived this long.

November 1, (year deleted)

Smitty is making me write again, though I don’t want to. He’s not happy I just wrote that, as he is standing at my shoulder. Apparently he is going to dictate this entry, although I’ll spare you the dialect. At least I made him laugh.

Three days ago Clark did a… I won’t write that… because I won’t… fine, Clark did a heroic thing. Happy, Smitty? Geez, this entry is going to be crap for future readers. Clark saved my (Smitty’s) life. A raid went very wrong, and several goose soldiers had captured me. They were dragging me off, probably to execute me. They don’t let soldiers live, even as prisoners. Then Clark led several other soldiers to drop from a copse of trees unto the unsuspecting geese. They fought like leopards until every bird lay in their own blood. All for the life of one man, who wasn’t worth the effort.

Good, now that Smitty is gone, I can write what I want to write. It was a nightmare. They took Smitty. We would not have survived without Smitty. We were barely surviving now, and only thanks to him. I attempted the rescue as much for my sake as his. True, half of the squad wanted to leave him, but none did. Most just hung back to see what would happen and bury our bodies later, but five of my friends came with me. I have to record their names for prosperity. Lauren Helms, Irene Stewart, Nicholas Haley, Wesley Jefferson, and Tony Tirey. They were the brave ones. I simply had a foolhardy plan. The six of us waited in the branches of some trees, hoping against hope that the geese would bring Smitty our way. And they did. We just jumped off the branches and landed on them. They put up a fight, but thanks to the training Smitty puts us through every day, we managed to overpower them and rescue our commander. See? Not heroic. Stupid, or desperate, maybe, but not heroic.

By the way, Nick and Lauren died in the ambush. Two good soldiers. Smitty chewed us out, berated us for sacrificing two lives for his, not that he wanted that in this entry. All the facts, ha! But I would have sacrificed a dozen, myself first. Without Smitty, we’re all lost.

December 7

I have gone back through my entries and scratched out the year. Perhaps that was stupid. I was angry. I certainly regret the jagged black scribbles now, but what’s done is done. Our dating system is over anyway, so who the brack cares about how humans used to write the date? I guess I should slow down and tell this story properly.

We took a big chance yesterday. We broke into a goose house. Smitty had found this goose living by himself a few miles from a city, which we usually avoid, but kind of stumbled on. The goose left, heading towards the new skyline, and Smitty figured he’d be gone for at least a couple of hours. He decided that a few of us should break in. He really wanted to get a message off to his mysterious contact. I don’t know why he just won’t tell us who he’s e-mailing. I think finding out there is someone looking out for us, that cares about what we are doing, would only raise morale for our pitiful little troop.

So we got in through a window that wasn’t closed tightly, the goose will never know we were there. Thankfully there was no alarm system or anything. While Smitty tapped away on the computer, sending his e-mail and checking some news, Irene and I turned on the television. We haven’t watch television in over a year, and I admit, I was curious to see what programming was on. Imagine my surprise when we saw a newsgoose telling us about the new dating system that will go into effect on January 1^st with 1 A.G., and that all years, including the one we are still in, will count backwards with B.G.! I was floored. No one had told me we had lost the war. I mean, I know we haven’t had it easy, but our gang is still doing what we’ve always been doing. I didn’t see much more than that, because Smitty was done, and he didn’t want us to hang around.

We lost the war. I knew it was coming, but to have it spelled out so black and white for me… It’s a hard thing to swallow. There won’t ever be a Baton Rouge for me to go back to, or a Louisiana, or anything else. Dick Kennedy, the mighty uniter, is dead, and the army has been defeated. Smitty says we’re not giving up. He says that we are going to keep fighting. What’s the point?

January 26, 1 A.G.

I considered not writing the year at all in this entry, or any other, out of spite, but that would only keep future readers from knowing when these events took place, if this journal survives. Only eight people in our squad now. We lost Irene near the end of December, my last friend, besides Smitty. The other six all joined us late last year. I feel sad for Smitty, too, all of his original crew gone now. These other six are sort of a clique, and we’re excluded. They follow Smitty’s direction, but other than that, they keep to themselves.

Smitty finally opened up to me and told me about his e-mails. I don’t know if he’s losing hope, too, or if he just needed someone to talk to, and I was the best candidate, but he told me everything. I think. He told me a lot, anyway. Apparently there is a Dr. Smith who has a secret underground base and runs a global organization. Though Dick Kennedy and his army are gone, Smitty thinks that Dr. Smith is still alive and operating, and that is why he is able to keep going. I asked Smitty how he was so sure that his Smith was still around. The old Brit looked at me with liquid eyes and said that he has to be. I have never seen anyone look so sad in my life. And I’d never seen Smitty look sad at all, grim, plenty of times, but not truly sad, other than that one time that he killed those goose soldiers.

We heard whisperings of some other humans nearby, so we’re trying to track them now. Supposedly there is a whole group of them, maybe hundreds, all in one place. I have a hard time believing that. The geese wiped out any human groups left. Surely hundreds would be noticed. Hell, a dozen can’t live together without being caught anymore. But Smitty is bent on finding them, and, well, how can I take away his hope? Not after seeing him through all this. So I’ll help him look, for awhile anyway. There’s nothing else to do anyway. We’re in no position to launch any more strikes. I wonder how long before he starts looking for a place to hide away.

February 18, 1 A.G.

It’s a wonder, and that’s all I can say about it. Smitty was right. We found the humans. They are being led by Dick Kennedy’s brother, David Kennedy, of all people! Well, those Kennedys always were great leaders, so I suppose if anyone could keep a group together and hidden, it would be one of them. Granted, the group was about sixty, not hundreds, but still very impressive.

Turns out, Kennedy had survived the war and begun looking for his nephew, Brock, Dick’s son. Along the way, he picked up quite a few followers. I have Smitty, and all these people have Kennedy. What would we do without leaders? Smitty confided in me that Brock is with Dr. Smith, but he hasn’t told David yet. Smitty said it is more important to help David find a safe place for his group first, and that he’ll tell him before we leave. So I guess we’re not staying with them indefinitely. Too bad. If I had to choose a place to hide out in, this would be it.

This? This is a sunken mall near Columbus, Ohio that Smitty knew about, I assume from his contact with Dr. Smith. It was a massive place, built in the suburbs. Somehow when the city was nuked, something shifted and the mall disappeared into the ground. The top is still visible from above, which David, Smitty, and a hulk of a man named Brad are trying to hide as I write this. I can see them a hundreds yards above me, through a glass ceiling, working. I have no doubt they’ll be able to hide the city, build secure entrances and exits to this place, and grow food underground. They just keep talking like it’s already done. We met up with these people three weeks ago, and we’re already helping shape a new civilization! It’s truly exciting, and the first thing that has given me hope in some time.

The others in this group are nice, too. They are perfectly willing to accept us as their own, if we’d like to stay. Smitty is hopeful that we can take some of these people with us as soldiers when we leave, but I’m not so sure. I know Smitty would really like to have Brad. He looks like he could bulldoze a forest with his bare hands, but Brad is nothing if not loyal to David Kennedy. He won’t leave. I don’t think any of the others will, either.

The best thing to come out of this, though, is we’ll have someplace to send the people we rescue. David said we had to be cautious, but he’d welcome any human prisoners we free and deem safe. Of course he would. He’s trying to build a self-sustaining city! They need all the people that they can get! But it’s still nice to know that there’s someplace safe for humans once more, even if it’s just an underground mall.

April 1, 1 A.G.

It’s with heavy heart that we leave the new city, Richardton, named after the late global leader and brother of its first mayor, Richard Kennedy. I really thought I could convince Smitty to stay, as much work as we put into this place, but he’s satisfied that it’s secure and he’s aching to go, so six of us are leaving today. Yes, that’s right, only six. Less than we came with. No one died, but we lost a couple to this place. As close as that group was, I’m surprised they all didn’t stay, but at least some of them have a sense of duty. As do I. That’s why no matter how much I’d like to stay, I’m leaving with Smitty.

It’s funny how life has a way of changing. Before I met Smitty, I would never have dreamed that one day I would chose a fight over safety. He has shaped me into so much more of a man that I ever was. I owe him a lot. He turned a nobody, a peaceful, but wimpy, man, into a soldier in defense of mankind. Even if we do not win, I will not give up until I breathe my last breath. He has taught me that.

As we leave Richardton today, I sensed a new purpose in Smitty’s step. We’re not going back to those raids that we once did. We probably couldn’t even if we wanted to. Smitty hasn’t told me, or anyone, but I know that this time we’re going looking for Dr. Smith. If we find him, maybe we have a chance in this war. As it is, I think we may die looking for Dr. Smith, if he’s even still alive.

That’s why this is my last entry, and not just because I’m almost out of room. I’m leaving the journal here for safekeeping. If there is a future for mankind, it is in this place. Looking back over the pages, I feel I did a very inadequate job of telling the story of this war. Hopefully others will chronicle it better. But I can’t help but hope that I have done some small part in leaving this first hand account somehow. I hope that someone will read it. If the humans are truly conquered, perhaps this will be a message to someone that things weren’t always that way, and no how much it looks like you’ve lost, there are always people that won’t give up. Find those people, rely on those people. People like David Kennedy and Smitty. Heroes. They will never lead you wrong.

June 10, 23 A.G.

My name is Tori Mounds and I found this journal in the… in Richardton. There was just room for one more entry, and I felt compelled to finish it for him. Clark Adama died about six months after he left Richardton, but he died a hero, in an epic battle that was perhaps that biggest human accomplishment since the war began. I grew up with stories of him, Smitty, and the others who perished in that fight, and I know what it means to me that have found this piece of history.

Things are dark now, much darker than they were in Clark’s time, if you can imagine that. We were conquered, and we were conquered good. Mankind may actually be extinct in a few short years. But as we go forward into the last days of our existence, this journal inspires me, as it will others, as I intend to transfer the original somewhere safe, but spread copies of its story through the forces now gathering. I know that his words have inspired me, and moved me to do something that I didn’t think I was capable of, and I believe he can inspire others.

If you find this in the future, do not forget us. Do not forget mankind. Do not forget our struggle. And do not forget Clark Adama, an ordinary man who rose to greatness.

2007-08-01T04:00:00.000-04:00

August 2007

An Actor's Nightmare Presents

#7 Memoirs of the Prophet Geisha

By Jerome Wetzel

To Amanda Bailey

True Friend.

Geisha looked around the square wildly. All of the other villagers were staring at him, some with fear, some with disbelief, some with pity, and still others with a sort of fascination that bordered on worship. Geisha backed away, not sure where he could go or what he would do. He just knew that he couldn’t stay here. Not with the entire settlement looking at him. Geisha turned and ran.

When he reached his family’s hut at the edge of the village, Geisha didn’t even bother to say hello to his mother. He ran to his corner, pulled his blanket off the floor, and tossed his few worldly possessions into it.

“Son, what are you doing?” asked his mom, turning away from the fire where she was preparing the evening feast, the smoke rising up through the pipe that Geisha had fastened only last winter. After sparing his mother a quick glance, Geisha turned away from the pipe, another reminder of the strange things that he saw. True, the villagers had appreciated that idea. He didn’t think his recent loud proclamation of doom went over quite so well, though.

“Where are you going?” asked his mother, when Geisha didn’t respond to her first question. She watched his packing with concern.

“Away from here,” said Geisha.

“Your uncle had these visions, too,” said his mother wisely. “He did not run away from his home over them.”

“Yes, well, did your brother proclaim to the whole of our village that they would be besieged upon and conquered by birds from the sky while he convulsed in the dust?” asked Geisha.

“No, he did not,” said his mother calmly. “Come now, Geisha. Do not abandon your family. Stay. People will forget eventually.”

“You do not understand. You did not see it,” said Geisha, refusing to meet her eyes. “No one will be forgetting this anytime soon.”

“That still is no reason for you to leave,” said his mother.

“There are many reasons for me to leave, mother,” said Geisha.

“Surely you will not travel far,” she replied.

“No. At least, not yet. I am heading for the caves up in the mountains,” said Geisha, reaching the decision as the words came out of his mouth. Yes, the caves. It felt right. He could be alone, and yet still feel at home, near to the place where he had spent his entire life.

“You are being silly, Geisha,” said his mother.

“Geisha,” said a female voice, lighter than his mother’s. It had a musical quality about it. Geisha recognized it instantly. He turned and saw his beloved, Mikla, in the doorway. Her animal skins didn’t cover all that much in the summer heat, and Geisha could see her lean body; that which he had come to love as his own. “Do not go.”

“I have to, Mikla,” said Geisha, determined not to let even her flesh tempt him to stay. Of course he cared about more than her body, but that was what was tantalizing him at the moment. No one could blame a young man of only sixteen for thinking such things.

“But we are to be married!” said Mikla. “You run from that?”

“You do not want to marry me, Mikla,” said Geisha.

“Of course I do,” said Mikla.

“You do,” said a third female voice. Geisha looked at the back of his hut, and saw a woman standing there. She looked insubstantial, as if she didn’t really exist. She was heavy set, ample bosomed, and had short, brown hair. Her eyes were framed by some sort of metal, and there appeared to be a clear surface between her eyes and the air. Her clothing was strange, too. It fit her form, and was in many pieces, yet quite unlike the skins that Geisha’s people wore, positioned precariously over their more sensitive parts.

“Who are you?” Geisha asked her.

“Geisha? Who are you speaking to?” asked his mother with concern. Geisha blinked. The strange girl was gone, as if she had never existed at all.. He turned around to face the two women who were standing very solidly in front of him, exchanging a concerned glance.

“No one. I need to go now. Please move out of my way,” said Geisha. The two women now stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking his exit from the hut.

“We will not allow you to go,” said Mikla firmly. “I love you, Geisha, and I do not care what the other villagers think of you. We will be very happy together.”

“Forgive me,” said Geisha softly, kissing her tenderly on the forehead, then pulling her out of his way by her shoulders. He began to run again as he left the village. No one else made a move to stop him. In fact, most of the citizens gave him a wide berth as he fled. He heard whispers about himself, about his uncle. They all thought that he was insane. Brack, even Geisha was beginning to believe that his mind wasn’t all there. Who saw visions of strange ghostly women in their hut? Wait, what was brack? Geisha had thought the word, but he had never heard it before. Where in the world did that come from?

“Here is a suitable place for you,” said the vision, appearing again sometime later, near a cave. Geisha stopped his climbing, bent in half, sweating and panting. He looked up at the strange woman, and then at the cave behind her. It did, indeed, appear to be the perfect place for him to settle.

“Who are you?” asked Geisha.

“My name is Meredith,” said the woman. “Meredith Reel.”

“Are you dead, Meredith Reel?” asked Geisha.

“Yes,” said Meredith. “I am. But in your timeline, I won’t even be born for several thousand years.”

“What? How is this possible?” asked Geisha.

“There are many wonders in the world, more than you can ever imagine. I’ll tell you, but not all at once. You are only sixteen years old. You have a long life ahead of you,” said Meredith.

“A long life… here?” asked Geisha uncertainly, not sure why he was engaging this hallucination.

“Yes,” said Meredith. “I will be back.” And then she disappeared as if blown away on the wind, dissolving into the air. Geisha gaped. He collapsed on the dirt and fell asleep.

When Geisha awoke, Meredith was sitting there again, looking just the same as she did before. He rubbed his eyes, sure that he had dreamed the events of yesterday. But no, he was here, on the mountain.

“Did you have a good rest?” asked Meredith.

“Yes, thank you,” said Geisha a bit awkwardly. “So you are… uh…”

“Still here, yes,” said Meredith.

“But if you died thousands of years in the future, then how…?” asked Geisha.

“You are an important piece of a great puzzle, perhaps the most important piece,” said Meredith. “I didn’t understand it all myself until I was dead, and neither will you.”

“I am not really seeing you, you know,” Geisha told her. “I am imagining you. I am crazy.”

“People thought that I was crazy, too,” said Meredith, her eyes reflecting some long ago pain.

“Really?” asked Geisha, feeling a strange connection to his apparition.

“Yes. I had visions, as you’ve had. Flashes of insight into the future. Until they destroyed my brain. I went completely batbrack crazy. My friends, and even my lover, locked me up. I didn’t know my own child. I don’t blame them, to be honest. I didn’t see reality, so much as time, endlessly washing over me in spurts, and I couldn’t make sense of it. It was an experience I’d never wish on anyone,” said Meredith. Geisha vaguely noted her use of the word ‘brack’, the word he hadn’t understood before when he had thought it himself, but there were too many more pressing questions clamoring in his brain to let that minor detail sidetrack him.

“Well, um, I am sorry for you,” said Geisha, trying to sound sympathetic and not let his impatience to ask her his burning queries overwhelm him. “So I am going crazy, too?”

“No, dear Prophet,” said Meredith with a sympathetic smile. “My visions happened in quick succession. It was too much for my brain to handle. Yours will be spread out over many decades. You will be fine.”

“What is that you called me? A… prophet?” asked Geisha.

“Yes. It’s like a seer,” said Meredith. “It’s a very rare gift to be a true Prophet.”

“My uncle was one,” said Geisha proudly, for the first time not feeling that his visions were a curse.

“Your uncle foretold you, but he is merely one of thousands throughout history who had brief flashes on insight,” said Meredith. “In fact, most people have at least one in their lifetime. It’s common to get a glimpse of something, but to actually understand what is happening, to be able to use your gift to affect the people around you… it is almost unheard of. Your uncle didn’t dream his whole life, at least not of the future. You and I, we’re very special. There will be only twelve of us. And we will change the world.”

“O… only twelve?” asked Geisha.

“Yes,” said Meredith with a smile. “Twelve of us have the power to decide who will populate the earth, and who will die out.”

“So the future is not set in stone?” asked Geisha curiously, swallowing away the horror of her last statement.

“Time never is,” said Meredith.

“But then… if the future is not certain, than your existence is not certain, and how can…?” Geisha couldn’t finish his question. His head was swimming. He was having trouble grasping all of this new information. Meredith smiled kindly at him again.

“Don’t try to understand it all, dear Geisha,” she said. “As I told you, you will understand it all in death, but not before. I certainly couldn’t figure it out. Time has certain… patterns that must rise, even if the events that lead to them change. I am a certainty, and so are the rest of us Twelve. What isn’t certain is how the other ten’s lives will unfold. I am doing my best to protect them from an information overload, and to keep them from going crazy like I did.”

“How are you doing that?” asked Geisha in wonderment.

“We are all connected,” said Meredith. Geisha nodded. He certainly knew that he was connected to her. He could feel it, like he had known her all of his life. “Some don’t even need the protection. I was not the first to begin having the visions, just the first to reveal those visions, and to suffer from them.”

“So the others are still alive?” asked Geisha. “Do they live throughout history, or…?”

“No, the rest are all from my time,” said Meredith. “You set us up, and now we’re coming to fruition. Not all are born yet, but some are, and the rest will be born soon. As the first of the future prophets to die, I am protecting those who have had at least one vision, but aren’t ready to join us.”

“Join us?” asked Geisha.

“I told you, we’re going to change the world,” said Meredith serenely.

“For good or for bad?” asked Geisha.

“That is uncertain,” said Meredith, her smile faltering.

Geisha sensed that the conversation was almost over, but he had so many more questions. “Tell me, does death hurt?” he asked.

“Some deaths do. Mine did, for a bit. But then again, I was shot,” said Meredith, once again seemingly lost in an unpleasant memory. Her eyes glazed over, obviously she was reliving the moment in her mind.

“Shot?” asked Geisha.

“With bullets. It’s a weapon in my time,” said Meredith.

“Do you ever wish that you did not die?” asked Geisha.

“I have only been dead a short time,” said Meredith, with a bittersweet smile. “Sometimes there is more that I wish I could have done, see my child grow up, help my friends with what’s coming, but no. I have made peace with what happened to me. I am needed on this side of the great veil.”

“But…,” began Geisha, but she interrupted him.

“We will see each other again, Geisha, and you can ask more of your questions then. Take care.” She disappeared, as she had done before, and Geisha stared at the air where she had been, awestruck, but suddenly filled with a sense of purpose.

“Geisha!” The voice echoed on the surrounding mountains. Geisha had heard it called out many times over the last few hours, but had not answered it. Unfortunately, it seemed to be getting closer. He slunk further into the shadows of his cave. He had been gone for more than a moon cycle now, and this was the first that someone had intruded on his mountain. His heart bled to ignore the voice, knowing at once that it was his former lover, Mikla’s. But he was steadfast in his resolve to stay up here, and this was no life to bring a spouse, or gods forbid, children, into.

“Geisha!” said the voice again, nearer. It had been steadily growing closer all day. He knew Mikla was good at tracking, but the rains should have washed away his trail by now. Geisha looked around. It would be impossible to get rid of the fire pit and other signs of his habitation in the short amount of time it would take her to finish her ascent. He should have started concealing himself sooner, but he really hadn’t expected her to make his way up to him so quickly. Instead, he took a seat on the large stone directly in front of his new home, as if patiently awaiting her arrival.

“There you are! Why did you not answer me?” she demanded. Her eyes flashed with anger, but Geisha knew that it came from a place of love, and he had seen a similar flash in moments of carnal passion with her. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, which only made her angrier, and prettier. “You think that I am funny? I have been climbing for days, searching for you!”

“No, no,” said Geisha, spreading his arms, smile gone. “I do not think this is funny. I was merely glad to see you. But you should not have come.

“Oh, mate yourself,” she said, dropping a sack of food at his feet. Geisha’s stomach rumbled hungrily; he hadn’t found much to eat on this mountain. He dropped to his knees and dug in, ignoring her knowing smirk. They had been inseparable since infancy. She knew him all too well. “It is good to see you, Geisha.”

“Why did you come?” he asked, around a mouthful of sweet fruit.

“To see you, and to bring you home,” said Mikla.

Geisha stopped eating, a dark look coming over his eyes. “This is home for me.”

“Do not be foolish, Geisha,” said Mikla.

“I am not being foolish, Mikla. I have another purpose in this life. Our paths must diverge. I am sorry. That is the way that it is,” said Geisha simply, with acceptance.

“Do you not love me any longer?” asked Mikla.

“Of course I love you,” said Geisha.

“I will move to the mountain with you,” said Mikla firmly.

“No, I could not ask…,” began Geisha.

“You are not asking. I am telling. I will return to the village and get my things, and I will come back to live with you here,” said Mikla.

“Mikla…,” said Geisha, so much conveyed in just the name.

“I will return,” said Mikla, grabbing a raw vegetable from the sack. She gave him a fierce look, the type of look that solidified his feelings for her every time that he saw it, then turned her back and disappeared.

“I do not deserve her,” said Geisha.

“No, you don’t, but not for the reasons that you think,” said a voice from within the cave. Geisha whirled and saw Meredith, whom he had not seen since his arrival at his new home.

“What do you mean?” asked Geisha.

“I have much to tell you,” said Meredith, ignoring his question. “This is very important. Geisha, you are unique. I have told you that there are twelve of us, and that we are all special, but you are unique even among us. You alone will receive visits from each of us, and you alone will visit some of us in your future.”

“You mean I can appear like you? A ghost?” asked Geisha.

“Not until after your death,” said Meredith. “I and those that die after me will tell you what is important, but only you will get to warn those that are not dead before The Opening. Everyone will look to you for guidance.”

“How will I do that?” asked Geisha.

“You need to find five large, flat stones. We will give you five prophecies to carve and leave for us to find again. Additionally, as I said, you will need to appear in dreams, especially in Wesley’s. He will need your help more than any of the others.”

“Who is Wesley?” asked Geisha.

“Wesley Prisoff. A good friend of mine,” said Meredith, once again getting a sad look. “He is the one that will have to make a very important decision at The Opening. He won’t be the only one there, of course, we will all be there in one form or another, but he is our best hope. You must make Wesley understand, guide his path, help him to reach the right decisions. The fate of all mankind depends on what Wesley does.”

“What is the proper resolution?” asked Geisha.

“I don’t know. Only you know,” said Meredith.

“I do not know! I do not even know what is going on, or what these prophecies will be about!”

“You will,” said Meredith. “Find the stones. Make them flat, make them smooth, and make them large, so they will last. When you do all of that, someone will return to give you the first prophecy.”

“Will it not be you?” asked Geisha.

“No,” said Meredith, shaking her head. “I have given you the preparation, others will give you the prophecies. They will each have a piece to the puzzle. Remember, they may die in a different order than they appear, so do not discuss them with each other. Only talk to them about me or Wesley, as they will know us and our part. You have to put together their pieces yourself. It was an honor to meet you Geisha. I will see you again at The Opening.”

“Wait! What is ‘The Opening’ that you speak of?” asked Geisha, but it was too late. She was gone, again, no sign that she had ever been there left in her wake.

“Hello, Geisha,” said a feminine voice. Geisha started in surprise. He whirled around to see a lovely woman with very long, brown hair. At first, Geisha thought that Meredith had finally returned after a ten year absence, but he soon realized that the hair length and body type made him think otherwise. This girl wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t thin. She was curvy in just the right way. Her eyes sparkled, and her dimples showed that she was used to smiling.

Geisha had begun to wonder if he had just made up the whole thing, it having been so long since his last vision. He had prepared the stones, as Meredith had asked him to do. But after over a year of waiting, and not being able to explain to his wife, Mikla, what he was doing, Geisha had reluctantly moved back to the village. It had not been a hard adjustment. The others had welcomed him back, his breakdown seemed to be totally forgotten to them. He and Mikla had settled in their home and rejoined the life of the place, the stones laying forgotten in the corner of his hut. His one regret had been that he and Mikla had been unable to have children before his mother passed away, only six months ago, from dysentery.

“Who are you?” asked Geisha.

“I’m Natalie Mounds,” she said, holding out a hand to shake. Geisha stared at the hand strangely, not sure what she was doing. She laughed and lowered her hand. “Never mind. Of course that wouldn’t work, even if you knew what a handshake was. Your hand would probably go right through mine.”

“It is nice to meet you, Natalie, but my wife will be back soon, and I would really rather she not see me talking to myself, so if you would just depart…,” said Geisha, the words coming out in a rush.

“She won’t be back for at least five minutes. We have plenty of time,” said Natalie dismissively. She tried to sit down on a rough hewn seat, but fell right through it and ended up half buried in the dirt. She laughed again, and managed to right herself. “I’m so silly!”

“Why are you here?” asked Geisha, disturbed by the attitude that this apparition took.

“To give you the First Prophecy, of course!” said Natalie.

“Then you are dead?” asked Geisha.

“Yeah, or else I wouldn’t be here,” said Natalie, smile faltering. Geisha could see pain in her eyes, and suddenly realized that her sunny personality was probably often only a mask.

“How did you die?” asked Geisha gently.

“It was nothing special,” said Natalie, shrugging. “Let’s talk about your prophecy.”

“All right,” agreed Geisha reluctantly, but he continued to study her. She didn’t look old. Older than he was, certainly, and plenty older than Meredith when she had appeared, but Natalie’s hair was not yet grey. She did look weary, though, with an illusion that she was probably younger than she even looked. The lifespan of a Prophet, at least from the two that he had seen thus far, did not appear lengthy. That disturbed him greatly, despite the fact that Meredith had promised him a long life. What if his first vision had only told him that so he didn’t worry, and he was cut down in his prime, too?

“Ok, so I know what it needs to say because I’ve read it…,” began Natalie.

“You’ve read it?” asked Geisha in surprise.

“Yeah. We found it ages ago and Wesley decoded it. Or was it Dr. Smith? Yeah, the first one was Dr. Smith. Let me think. I’m trying to remember exactly what it said,” said Natalie, brown scrunched in concentration.

There was that Wesley again. Geisha suddenly wished that Wesley had come instead of Natalie. The way that the girls talked about him, surely Wesley would be able to explain to Geisha what was going on. And how did it make a lick of sense that the prophecy that Natalie would tell him and he would carve would then be read by her so she could tell him what it was? It was a very confusing loop, and Geisha suddenly sank to the ground, head swimming.

“I think I’ve got it. Here goes,” said Natalie. “There was something about things with pointy mouths or something. And they came from the North. Yeah, that’s right. The North. Because they’re Canadian geese and we were in the United States.”

“Where is the United States? What is Canadian? What are you talking about?” asked Geisha.

“I don’t know. I’m not a poet. Your job is to make it sound good. I’m just telling you what was in it. Something about things with pointy mouths coming from the North,” said Natalie. “There was more. Um, the pointy things are going to rule everyone. And then there were some numbers. One who was them, but wasn’t them or something like that. And Twelve that would fight them. Oh, yeah! The only way to win was if the Twelve figured out how the creatures started. An origin, I think. And there is going to be a big battle, and only one is going to survive. And then you had some clever closing line that sounded all biblical about it coming to pass.”

“Um…,” said Geisha, feeling less confidence in the entire situation than he had ever had. How was he supposed to put the rantings of this silly woman into some coherent carving? Geisha scratched some words into the dust floor of his hut with a stick so that he would remember the main points. “Is there anything else?”

“Nope. That’s it. It was pretty short. And confusing. We never did figure out exactly what it meant, though Wesley had plenty of theories. We even thought the battle was going to happen once, but we were wrong,” said Natalie, again getting a sad look in her eyes, as if remembering the death of friends. The haunting memories were also clearly another thing that this girl shared with Meredith.

“Are you…?” began Geisha.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” said Natalie, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry Geisha, I really am, but I need to go now. My soul mate has been dead for awhile, and so have some of my kids, and I really want to go and meet them. Meredith said that after I told you this, I could.”

“Of course,” said Geisha, words dying in his throat. He still had many questions, many more than he had even thought about when he had met Meredith, but he could see that Natalie was aching. He wished that he could hug her and console her, but how could one hug a ghostly image? He couldn’t bring himself to keep her here a second longer when she was finally going to be reunited with her family. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” said Natalie with another sad smile, and then she was gone.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Mikla, standing in the entryway and regarding him suspiciously. She carried two fish, their meal for tonight, in her hands. Her piercing gaze took in the man kneeling on the floor and the nonsense words that he had carved into the dirt.

“No one,” said Geisha.

“It has finally happened, has it not?” asked Mikla.

“Yes. The First Prophecy,” whispered Geisha in disbelief.

“Then you had better start carving it,” said Mikla.

“I do not know…,” began Geisha.

“I believe in you,” said Mikla. “I believe that you are not crazy, and that there are things beyond my understanding. This is happening for a reason. Do what the vision told you to do. I will prepare dinner.”

“I do not even know what I am supposed to carve!” said Geisha. “The girl merely rambled on.”

“You will figure it out,” said Mikla with complete confidence. “You work, I will make us dinner.” She kissed him on the forehead and moved to the fire pit. Geisha smiled, despite how fogged his brain felt. He was lucky to have a woman like Mikla to inspire him to do what he was tasked with doing. He wasn’t sure what he would do without her. She fulfilled all of his desires. He only hoped that he could soon fulfill her unanswered one in repayment, a child.

Geisha looked over at the stones longingly, four carved with a number of words and one still blank. Three and a half decades had passed since Meredith had first appeared to him, and it had been over eight years since he had carved the Fourth Prophecy. Still, life had been better than Geisha had any right to hope it would be. Besides getting an occasional flash of things to come, Geisha had also learned to be observant of changing weather patterns and animal movements. He guessed it came from looking everywhere for his next messenger. As a result, he had become the most important elder in his village, practically worshipped by every resident within. They came to him for advice on everything, and to bless their children or livestock. At first, the pilgrims had seemed odd to Geisha. But Mikla had convinced him to do as they asked, and they had both enjoyed the benefits of that decision.

Today, Mikla was off teaching the village children, as she did everyday. Geisha was, as usual, sitting outside of their hut and studying everything around him. He equally dreaded and looked forward to the last visit. The grey in his hair and the ache in his bones told him that he couldn’t live forever, and the last vision mat signal an end of his life in sight, or at least an end to his unique abilities that let him serve his people. Yet the first four stones, which were long memorized from countless readings, puzzled him and allowed him to mull over their meaning. He didn’t understand them, but he realized that understanding was near, like an insect he could hear just outside of his dwelling but not quite see. In this mood, it really wasn’t much of a surprise to hear a strange voice from behind him intone, “Hello, Geisha.”

“Hello,” said Geisha, not turning around right away. Instead, he slowly rose to his feet, gathered the wooden pieces he had been carving with his stone tool, then slowly entered the dwelling. A plump girl with curly hair stood near his bed. She wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked very upset about something. Unlike some of the others, this girl was very young. She couldn’t have been older than Meredith had first appeared. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Morgan Richter,” said the curly-headed girl.

“Why are you so sad?” asked Geisha.

“I just died, and it wasn’t fair,” said Morgan.

“Death rarely is,” said Geisha with a wisdom borne of age.

“I don’t even want to be here right now, but no sooner had I died than Meredith came to me and told me that I had to come and tell you some prophecy thing,” said Morgan.

“I would appreciate it if you did,” said Geisha. “I would very much like to complete my collection.” Her gaze followed his outstretched arm to the other stones and her expression suddenly seemed one of interest.

“Are those them?” asked Morgan.

“They are the first Four Prophecies,” said Geisha.

“Wow. I have only seen two of them before,” said Morgan. She held up a hand quickly. “Don’t worry. Meredith told me what the fifth one has to say.”

“Would you mind sharing it with me?” asked Geisha.

“Of course not. That’s why I’m here, I guess,” said Morgan. Geisha picked up a stick as she talked, and as with the others, he scratched the major points in the dirt floor. He had become much better at making them sound good as the years went on. He knew her random strings of thought would soon became a very authoritative sounding proclamation, set in stone made to last millennia.

“Thank you,” said Geisha when she had finished, his eyes on the scratches on the ground.

“Uh, oh,” said Morgan, looking through the hut wall and into the distance.

“What is it?” asked Geisha, sharply. That was the direction that Mikla went off towards each morning.

“The first of many dangers are coming,” said Morgan.

“What sort of danger?” asked Geisha.

“I… don’t know,” said Morgan.

“Tell me!” said Geisha urgently, unease building in him. Somehow he knew that the threat was personal, and that it was imminent. He had learned to trust these feelings.

“I really don’t know!” said Morgan. “I’ve never seen anything like them before…” Geisha didn’t waste another moment with the girl. He grabbed a weapon from the corner of the hut and began to run to where she had been looking. Several of the other villagers noticed and began to follow him, each grabbing a weapon or tool, too. Before they had reached the outskirts of the village where Mikla taught, they heard a blood curling scream. Geisha, who had been running as fast as he could, managed to pick up speed. As such, he was the first to reach her corpse.

Mikla was laying facedown, several small children around her. A pool of red spread from below her body. He heard some scurrying sounds, but saw nothing but a flash of black in the trees nearby. The attacker was fleeing, or already gone. Geisha didn’t chase the culprit. Instead, he dropped to his knees next to the woman that he loved. The children, nearly all crying or yelling for their parents, backed off, giving him room. The other villagers formed a protective circle around Geisha and Mikla, their eyes scanning the trees as his had. It soon became apparent that whatever was happening was over, and that Mikla had died before he had reached her.

“Geisha?” asked one man, reaching for the Prophet’s elbow. Geisha shrugged him off. He didn’t plan on moving from Mikla’s side. If he could hold her tight enough to him, perhaps somehow his heart would help hers to beat again. Intellectually, he knew that was irrational, but emotionally he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Geisha…,” said a woman, joining the man. It took six of them to pry Mikla from Geisha. The Prophet’s wife was taken away from burial. Geisha watched her go, tears in his eyes. When she was out of sight, he looked towards the mountains. He knew what he must do. He didn’t know who had come, or what their purpose had been in killing Mikla, but he was sure that his wife was dead because of him. No one else could suffer the same fate. Geisha must return to his mountain cave, the one where Meredith had said he would lead a long life. Until that moment, Geisha had forgotten her words. Now he understood why she had said ‘here’ when they had been there.

The walk back to his hut was done in a fog. Geisha didn’t see the others around him, and was only vaguely aware that several men and women were flanking him. He entered his cave and went straight to the words he had scratched while listening to Morgan. It only took a minute to commit them to memory, then Geisha erased them with his hands. The villagers watched from the entrance, not willing to encroach upon his grief.

“Where are you going?” asked a young man as Geisha rose and grabbed a sturdy sack, covering the five flat stones with it.

“To the mountains,” answered Geisha automatically.

“I will carry those,” said the young man.

“You cannot stop me,” said Geisha, looking at the small throng of his friends.

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Geisha,” said a woman. “We know you are in pain. Let us help.”

“I am moving to the mountains,” said Geisha.

“We will help you move,” said a man. Geisha considered their words for a minute, then nodded. He left the stones where they lie and, without turning to see if he was being followed, struck out for his new home.

Geisha, The Last Surviving Prophet of His Age, or so the locals called him, sat on a large rock outside of his small cave dwelling. He wore a plain, white robe with a simple belt. His long, gray hair swirled around his face. His long, gray beard ruffled in the wind. All was quiet, and Geisha loved to sit out on his rock. His cave was several miles from the nearest village, the one that used to be his village. He enjoyed the solitude and the calmness of his surroundings. It gave him time to meditate. About once a week someone from the village would bring him food. And every so often some poor, naïve fool would seek his guidance, as if the hermit were especially wise or some such poppycock. Geisha would help as best he could, not wanting to disappoint his benefactors, but mostly he just preferred to be left alone.

And then everything happened. There was a chase as Geisha struggled to escape, to protect the prophecies. It was over in a matter or minutes, and soon the assassin was gone. Geisha stood on the cliff from where he had fallen, looking down at his lifeless body and the five prophecy stones below. He suddenly knew how his strange vision visitors had felt. He wished they were here with him now. He watched with dismay as his murdered searched for his stones. He smiled as somehow he failed to find them, all nearby hiding in bushes and such. Somehow they had all landed just right to be hidden from the strange being’s sight. The attacker didn’t look long, but soon departed.

When he had tossed the stones over the cliff, Geisha had been sure that the wind had carried them. Now, though, it looked like luck that they had fallen scattered slightly, and it was fortunate that the very odd looking person in the shiny black suit hadn’t searched very hard. Still, it was only a small comfort as Geisha stared at his broken body on the ground below, skull cracked on one of those prophecies he had tried so hard to protect.

And then a man stood beside him. He had short, black hair, freckles, and those strange wires on his face with the solid air like Meredith had had. He reminded Geisha of the teenager that had helped him carry the stones up to the cave eighteen years ago, for some reason, even though this man had left his teen years many decades ago. And though so had that teen, Geisha supposed, this man was even much older than he would be now.

“Who are you?” asked Geisha, but before the man even spoke, Geisha knew the answer. He could tell by the way the younger man looked at the older one with such intense familiarity.

“I’m Wesley Prisoff! You know me! I’ve seen you many times before. Did it work?”

“Did what work?” asked Geisha.

“Our plan! I’m sorry, I guess I’m dead, but then so are you. You must know. Did it work?” asked Wesley again, fidgeting nervously from one foot to the other. The wrinkles were deep in his skin, and as with Natalie, Wesley appeared older than he probably was. But he was still pretty old, definitely the oldest of the Prophets that Geisha had seen throughout his life.

“I do not know what you mean. I am sorry,” said Geisha.

“We have to go and see,” said Wesley urgently.”

“Go where?” asked Geisha.

“Egypt,” said Wesley.

“What is in Egypt?” asked Geisha.

“The Library, of course!” said Wesley. He was beginning to fade. “I’ll meet you there!”

“How do I get there?” asked Geisha as Wesley faded completely from view.

“You will be there soon,” said Meredith with a smile. Geisha whirled and saw Meredith, Morgan, Natalie, and six others, some he had seen before, some he hadn’t, standing behind him.

“The Prophets,” breathed Geisha. Or nine of them, he corrected himself.

“Yes,” said Natalie. “We are the Prophets.”

“Come,” said Morgan. “It is almost over.”

“No,” said Meredith with a smile. “It had just begun.” Geisha knew they were both right, and letting Meredith take his arm, he followed the group into the bright light.

2007-06-01T04:00:00.000-04:00

June 2007

An Actor's Nightmare Presents

#6 The Ballad of Tommy & Liz
Part IV: You Spin Me Round

By Jerome Wetzel

To Brandon Moss

For helping me get through it all.

October 1 A.G. ~ Dr. Smith’s Group’s Hillside Base

Where was he? Liz Payne sat on the hill above the hidden base, staring at the horizon. She had sat in this spot every day since Tommy had left on the crazy mission. Not that anyone around here had noticed her doing it. They just assumed that she was outside slacking off, not helping. They never understood her. They never even tried to. None of them knew how much she ached for Tommy to come home. Why hadn’t they heard anything from the group by now? Liz knew that they hadn’t taken their phones or anything, in case they were captured, but still… They had left months ago. Where was he?

The sun sank below Liz’s field of vision, and she allowed herself to cry. There weren’t many tears. Dozens of nights of similar emotion had sapped that from her. During the first few weeks, she had cried for hours, body wracked with silent sobs, her shirt becoming soaked with the salty liquid. Now only a few drops rolled to her chin and dropped to the grass below. Tommy had better come back soon. He couldn’t do this to her. He just couldn’t leave her. Not when things were actually going ok, and he had responsibilities. And not just to her.

“Liz! Where are you?” asked a female voice from inside the base. “Sarah is cranky! Come and take her!”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” shouted Liz back, surprised that she had kept her voice from cracking.

“Hurry up!” said the voice.

“Fine!” said Liz angrily, getting up. She brushed the dirt off of the back of her tight jeans and stalked towards the cave entrance. She couldn’t be left alone for even a few minutes around here. She paused at the doorway and looked back at the twilight. Her fingers reached up and touched the diamond studs in her ears, a gift from Tommy. She had put them on for the first time in a year to attend the movie premiere prior to the goose attack, and hadn’t taken them out since. Wherever Tommy was, she hoped that he was safe. And she hoped that he was thinking of her.

February 3 B.G. ~ Wester Jeffersonville, Ohio

“Hey, Tommy!” said Vikki Styles as the door opened to Tony Vista and Jason Clucker’s place. Tommy Gaines smiled at Vikki, Meredith Reel, and Tony, who were lined up on the couch with beer and pizza.

“Pull up a seat,” said Meredith.

“Sure,” said Tommy, sitting in the armchair and helping himself to a wine cooler that he had brought with him. He wasn’t a big fan of beer. “Sorry I’m late. We were pretty busy at the pizza shop. Mike got me out as early as he could. Where’s Jason? I thought he was going to hang out with us tonight.” Tom was grateful to his boss, Mike, for working around his college schedule. The uber-friendly guy understood that Tommy was busy with being a student and working full time, and did his best to allow his young manager a social life.

“He’s running around with Liz again,” said Tony, rolling his eyes. “Those two have become inseparable.”

“Liz said that she had way too much studying to do tonight to hang out,” said Tommy, feeling a bit betrayed. She had made a habit lately of telling him that she was busy with homework and then running off with Jason, and he was getting a bit tired of it. Obviously she had time for fun, she just didn’t want to spend that time with him, or at least not much of it.

“Yeah. They’re not studying. They probably looked at their books for five minutes then hit the liquor,” said Meredith.

“That boy, sometimes…,” said Vikki, shaking her head.

“So what’s new with you guys?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, Jason and I need a roommate for next year. Are you interested?” asked Tony.

“Sure!” said Tommy. “I haven’t been hanging out with Jason all that much lately. It’ll be nice to see him more often.”

“Good luck with that,” said Tony. “It’s not like he’s ever here.”

“Speaking of never being here…,” said Vikki. “I had some news, and I was going to tell you guys all at once, but since Jason is never around anymore…”

“She’s moving to North Carolina!” blurted out Meredith.

“What?” asked Tony in surprise.

“When?” was Tommy’s stunned reaction.

“Bright and early tomorrow morning,” said Vikki, shooting Meredith a look for spoiling the surprise. “I just got a teaching job. I start Monday.”

“Wow,” said Tony. “That was sudden.”

“Well, they had a teacher leave mid-year, and all I can get around here are substitute positions…,” said Vikki.

“Yeah. Congratulations,” said Tony.

“I’ll miss you,” said Tommy.

“Quit being such a girl,” said Meredith to their younger friend. “We’ll go and visit her.”

“But it’s not the same,” said Tommy.

“Whoa, Tommy,” said Vikki, looking at her friend in concern. “No need to get so upset. I’ll still have a phone.”

“Yeah, but it sucks losing another friend,” said Tommy.

“Still not talking to Anne?” asked Tony.

“Yeah. Liz made me choose,” said Tommy.

“That’s bull brack,” said Meredith. “We’ve told you before, that girl is no good for you.”

“You shouldn’t let her push you around like that,” said Vikki. “She has no right to tell you who you can and can’t be friends with. You can do better.”

“But we’re finally getting along so well…,” said Tommy.

“Sure. That’s why she’s off with Jason, not you, again,” said Tony. “I used to think that she was a cool girl, but she’s not. You should dump her ass.”

“I can’t,” said Tommy. “I love her.”

“Geez, Tommy. For a smart kid, you make some really dumb choices,” said Vikki.

“Let’s change the subject,” said Meredith, coming to Tommy’s rescue. “So about the move…”

March 3 B.G. ~ London, England

Tommy woke up in his single occupancy hotel room and looked at his alarm clock. Eight fifteen. Perfect. He was supposed to meet Liz, Jason, and the others at nine o’clock to tour the streets of London. He had been afraid with the jet lag that he would oversleep. This was so exciting! If someone had told him in high school that he would be walking the streets of Europe and playing concerts with his college band, he wouldn’t have believed them. The whole experience was surreal. And best of all, this was his birthday! He was twenty, in England, with his girlfriend and assorted other friends, and he was legal to drink! This was going to be the best day ever! He wondered what they would do first.

He quickly showered and got dressed for the day. His clock only said eight thirty. That was strange. He could have sworn that he had taken longer than fifteen minutes this morning. Weird. He made sure that he had his money and passport, then headed for the hotel lobby to wait for his friends.

As Tommy walked into the ornate lobby of the hotel, he noticed that the sign behind the concierge desk said eleven oh five. With a sinking feeling, Tommy approached the dark skinned guy with the shaved head behind the desk. His named tag said Michel. “Is it really 11:05?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the clerk with a frown. He had a French accent and seemed a bit snotty for Tommy’s taste.

“Crap! My clock in my room said it was only eight thirty!” said Tommy.

“Did you bring it with you from America?” asked the clerk, annunciating every syllable.

“Yes,” said Tommy.

“We have different currents of electricity here. Your clock won’t work properly here unless you buy an adapter. You Americans should really look into these things before you travel abroad.”

“Thanks,” said Tommy with a tight smile. He couldn’t believe it! He had overslept, and they had left without him! His own girlfriend had left without him, and on his birthday! Liz had known where his room was. Why hadn’t she come down and knocked on the door? Why didn’t anyone? Nora, Anne, Jason, and Tony were all supposed to meet him. What would he do all day in England by himself? Still in a state of shock, he headed for the streets, out into the foreign country, all alone.

“Tommy?” asked Anne Steiman, walking into the bar of the hotel that they were staying at. She had Nora Blacken in tow. Although Nora had moved to Florida last summer, she had already been paying on the England trip before the wedding, and the band director had allowed her to go and play with the rest of the group. “Where were you today? I hope you didn’t stay home because I was going.”

“Are you drunk?” Nora asked, looking at him in concern.

Tommy was slumped over in a booth, several empty glasses on the wooden table in front of him. “No. I’m jush tipsy.”

“Did you sit here and drink all day?” asked Anne worriedly.

“Of coursh not. After you guysh abandoned me, I went to the wax museum, and the parksh, and then got totally lost. It was sosh scary. I didn’t know whish hotel we were in,” said Tommy, slurring badly. “Why didn’t you wake me upsh?”

“Liz said you weren’t coming,” said Nora. “We wouldn’t have left without you if we thought you would be alone.”

“Liz wouldn’t have left you on purpose,” said Anne. “Did you maybe tell her…”

“I told Lizsh I was hanging out with you guysh today,” said Tommy.

“Uh, oh,” said Nora, shooting Anne a look.

“What?” asked Tommy.

“Nothing,” said Nora. “I think we should get you up to bed.”

“Nosh!” said Tommy. “It’s my birthday. Have a drinksh with me!”

“You’ve had enough to drink,” said Anne.

“Anne, you’re so nicesh to me. I’m sorry I haven’t talkshed to you. I shouldsh never let Liz tell me who I can and cannot be friendsh with,” said Tommy.

“You’re drunk,” said Anne, taking a sterner tone. She shared another look with Nora. It was not going to be easy to get Tommy back up to his room, and while she didn’t approve of the drinking, she certainly couldn’t blame him this time. What had Liz been thinking today, leaving her boyfriend all alone in a foreign city on his birthday? This was a disaster.

“There’s Liz,” whispered Nora to Anne. The redhead glanced over her shoulder into the hotel lobby. Jason and Liz had split off earlier to ‘hit just one more bar’, and they were stumbling in now.

“Don’t let Tommy see her. I’ll be right back,” said Anne. Nora nodded. Anne ran out to the lobby and caught Liz and Jason as they waited for the elevator, leaning heavily on each other.

“Hey, Anne!” said Jason happily. “How ya doin’?”

“Not good. Liz, you left your boyfriend all alone on his birthday in London! How could you?” asked Anne.

“I don’t want to talk about Tommy right now,” said Liz, clearly not as drunk as Jason or Tommy.

“You don’t have a choice! That poor boy is trashed in the hotel bar, and more depressed than I’ve ever seen him. You need to come and talk to him,” said Anne.

“Not tonight,” said Liz. The elevator dinged and opened up. Jason and Liz stumbled in.

“But you’re his girlfriend! You have to…” Anne’s words were cut off as the doors rolled closed. Liz hadn’t shown a hint of remorse at Tommy’s condition. This whole situation was one ugly mess, and Anne was going to have to clean it up. It wasn’t her place. How dare Liz leave this in her lap? Angrily, Anne stomped back to the bar.

“Time to go upstairs,” she said to Tommy.

“Jush one more drink,” said Tommy, eyes unfocused behind his glasses.

“Now,” said Anne sternly. She reached for one arm, and Nora grabbed Tommy’s other. Together, they managed to get him up the elevator and to his room, somehow, with much effort. Then Anne had to sit guard outside Tommy’s door, because he kept trying to sneak back out. It wasn’t a night she would soon forget, and she couldn’t figure out, after the way Tommy had treated her, why she didn’t just leave him. Any hint of any attraction she may have once held for him, and she wouldn’t admit to any, was long gone. But for some reason, she still wanted to be his friend. And after this, he’d need a friend more than ever.

April 3 B.G. ~ Wester Jeffersonville, Ohio

Tom walked happily with Anne through the lawn between buildings as they left their last class of the day. It was Friday afternoon and they had the whole weekend to party, save for the time Tommy would be spending working at the pizza shop. There was not a care in the world in Tommy’s mind, until he saw her standing in the distance, watching him.

The breakup had been quick, not ugly. Liz had come to Tommy the day after his birthday and told him that she had left him and avoided him because she had wanted to break up, and thought it best not to do it on his birthday. Also, she wouldn’t want to be fake, or so she said, and it made sense if they just didn’t spend that day together. For Tommy, it was the easiest breakup ever. He had been so destroyed that day in London that he wasn’t sad to see Liz go this time. In fact, he was elated. A weight was lifted. Finally, he was rid of that roller coaster of emotions he had suffered when he was with her. There was no more wondering if she really cared; no more being disappointed when she avoided him to go drink with Jason. No more drama. Life was good again, and had been for the past three week.

Liz didn’t look good. Well, she did look good in terms of attractiveness, but she didn’t look happy. After word had spread about what had happened, mutual friends shifted Tommy’s way, and not Liz’s. Anne, Tony, Levi… they barely talked to Liz anymore. Walt was civil, but not warm towards her. Only Jason stayed her friend, but Jason tended to bounce around with his friendships. It had been Liz through England, then Tommy, until Jason decided that Tommy wasn’t exciting enough. Now he was off hanging out with Meredith again, Vikki having moved to North Carolina. Jason had a short attention span. The point was, Tommy would be having fun with friends tonight, and Liz was going to be all alone in her dorm room. Despite the poetic justice that Tommy thought he should feel, he didn’t relish the thought of Liz being lonely. He stopped Anne.

“Let’s invite Liz to go to the movie with us tonight,” said Tommy.

“Are you serious?” asked Anne. She glanced at Liz, then back at Tommy. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“She doesn’t get to spend time with her friends any more,” said Tommy.

“That’s because she acted like a total miro,” said Anne.

“There’s no need to be bitter,” said Tommy.

“I don’t want a big group tonight,” said Anne.

“She’s just one more person. That brings the total to what, seven, for tonight?” asked Tommy.

“We shouldn’t have invited everyone,” said Anne.

“Come on,” pleaded Tommy.

“Fine. Invite her if you want. But if you get all depressed after spending the evening hanging out with her, reminding you of what she did, I’m not picking up the pieces this time,” said Anne, sighing in defeat.

“I won’t get depressed. I’m so over her,” said Tommy.

“You do appear to be handling it well,” observed Anne.

“She made it easy,” said Tommy. “Go invite her.”

“Me? You’re the one that wants her to hang out with us,” said Anne.

“Yeah, but it would send the wrong message if I do it,” said Tommy. “Please.”

“Fine,” said Anne unhappily. Tommy watched as she walked over to Liz and said something that he couldn’t hear. He saw Liz ask a question and look at him in concern, probably wondering if it was all right with Tommy if she came. That was nice of her. Anne said something reassuring, then Liz nodded. They kept talking for several minutes. Finally, Liz went inside her dorm and Anne came back to Tommy, who was trying, and failing, to look as if he hadn’t been watching the whole interchange.

“Well?” asked Tommy expectantly.

“Not only is she coming out with us tonight, but apparently I will be living with her next year,” said Anne.

“No!” said Tommy in surprise.

“Yeah. She apologized for the whole jealousy thing, and then she said that we should be friends again. I guess with Nora back in Florida, she can’t afford to alienate me, too,” said Anne a bit skeptically. “So she asked me to live with her.”

“That’s great,” said Tommy.

“Yeah. We’ll see how long it stays great,” said Anne.

“Oh, don’t be so negative,” said Tommy.

“What’s up with you?” asked Anne, looking at him as if he’d grown a third ear.

“I’m just happy,” said Tommy.

“Well, don’t get too happy. I’m glad you’re being mature and all with the Liz thing, but I don’t want to be sitting next to you two when you make out at the movie,” said Anne.

“Anne! Come on! It’s over between us. Even if she wanted me back, I don’t think I would date her again. Not after last time,” said Tommy. “I can’t go through it all anymore.”

“Good,” said Anne. “But I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Give me a little credit,” said Tommy.

“No,” said Anne. “Now buy me dinner! You still owe me for forgiving you. Most girls wouldn’t, you know. After cutting me off as a friend just for some girl.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” said Tommy.

“You’ve said you’re sorry enough. Food will make it better now,” said Anne with a smile.

“Then lead on!” said Tommy.

“That was fun,” said Anne as Tommy walked the girls back to their dorm. He wasn’t going out of his way, it was just between the car and his own place. “See you tomorrow?”

“You bet,” said Tommy. Liz hung outside for a minute as Anne went in. She looked at Tommy with her big, sad eyes, and Tommy’s heart melted there on the spot.

“Can we take a walk?” asked Liz.

“Sure,” said Tommy automatically. Brack. What was he doing? He knew better than this. He was not going to cave to her. If she was even trying to ask him back out. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she just wanted to go for a walk and clear the air. Maybe Tommy was over thinking this. Ok, that was a given. They began to walk aimlessly through campus.

It was a nice night, clear sky, just a slight chill. They didn’t see any other students as they walked in silence, but it was a quiet, peaceful village, and the effect was calming, not scary. There was a palpable tension of things left unsaid between them, but Tommy was content not to bring any of it up if she didn’t.

“I am so sorry,” said Liz.

“Ok,” said Tommy, not sure what else to say.

“There is no excuse for the way that I treated you in England. That was a rotten thing to do, and I’ve regretted it every day since then,” said Liz. “In fact, it’s pretty much all that I’ve been able to think about.”

“It’s ok. It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t beat yourself up over it,” said Tommy.

“Stop being nice to me. I don’t deserve it,” said Liz. Tommy’s heart broke. He had been seeing her as a heartless bitch because that’s what he needed to see to get over her quickly, but as she expressed these heartfelt emotions, he felt his own rise to the surface. How could he possibly be mad at her? She had made a mistake. Everyone did from time to time. There was no reason in the world not to forgive her. And he wasn’t over her. Not even close.

“You do, Liz. It’s fine, honestly,” said Tommy, stopping to look at her. She had tears in her deep eyes, and once again he was transfixed in their gaze. Her eyes always got to him, and he had never seen real tears and feeling in them like he was seeing now. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her until she felt better, but he couldn’t. That wasn’t their relationship anymore. They were just friends.

“No, it’s not. And if I could do it over again, I would,” she said. “You never deserved to be treated like that.”

“Thanks for saying that. It means a lot,” said Tommy. “But I do forgive you. It’s over. We can move on from that.”

“Can we?” asked Liz, looking at him.

“Can we what?” asked Tommy.

“Move on?” asked Liz.

“Sure,” said Tommy. “We share all the same friends. We can still hang out and be ok. It’ll be fine.”

“I know I have no right to ask you this, but do you think that you could ever forgive me enough to give me another chance?” Liz asked, lip trembling. It physically hurt Tommy to see her this worked up.

“You mean… go back out?” asked Tommy.

“Yeah. I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. I certainly don’t deserve it. But maybe someday, down the road…”

“I would go back out with you in a second,” said Tommy, immediately knowing that every one of his friends who had supported him and sided with him through this whole thing would see those words as a betrayal. Levi, Walt, especially Anne… they would all be extremely ticked at him if he took her back. But he didn’t care. He loved Liz, and if there was any chance of being with her, then screw what anyone else thought.

“Seriously?” asked Liz.

“Yes,” said Tommy. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” said Liz. Then he kissed her. He couldn’t help himself. Tommy leaned forward, took her in his arms, and they locked lips. They tongues danced in a way that they never had before. Somehow, everything that had happened had forged a new bond, a stronger bond. Tommy knew that this time, they wouldn’t break up. This time it was for real. He had found his true love, the one woman in the world that he wanted to be with. It was Liz.

May 3 B.G.

“Happy birthday,” said Tommy, handing Liz a gift wrapped box as they sat across from each other at a nice Italian restaurant. Their past month together had been magical, everything they hadn’t been before. They talked about their feelings, they hung out, they held hands in public. And yet, Liz sensed something had changed in Tommy. Every moment that she spent with him, he was a perfect gentlemen to her, but she could sense something else in his gaze. A lingering hurt. A whiff of doubt that she was really with him. Brack it, she was with him, one hundred percent, and he needed to get used to it.

“Thank you,” said Liz, taking the box. Liz had heard through Nora, accidentally, that Tommy had asked her when she could come up from Florida for a surprise party. But that had been months ago, before England. Then, Tommy had been planning a big event for Liz’s twenty-first birthday. Instead, Liz was getting dinner and a box. Not that she was complaining. Hell, she hadn’t gotten him anything for his birthday except a hangover. But still, she was a bit disappointed. It felt like he didn’t completely trust her anymore, and she didn’t like it.

Liz opened the box eagerly. If there were doubts, she wasn’t going to be the one to bring them up. She had never been the type of girl to talk about her feelings. And she wasn’t the type of girl to gingerly unwrap a box. Now she dug into the paper and came across a small jewelry box. Shit. It had better not be an engagement ring. There was no way that she was ready for marriage with Tommy, especially with the vibes that she was getting from him. It was about the right size for a ring. But why wrap it? That would be tacky. She opened it and looked at the contents in surprise. Two beautiful diamond platinum earrings.

“Thank you!” she said, quickly putting them in. Liz had her ears pierced, but often went without earrings. These two little studs fit perfectly, and felt good, too. What a great present. She could forgive him for abandoning the party now. If only he’d talk to her about whatever was going on in his mind.

“You’re welcome,” said Tommy. “I was going to do a party, but, well, there wasn’t really time to get it together properly after… So I hope this dinner is all right.”

“Sure. This is nice,” said Liz automatically. What was wrong with him? Why would he bring up the party at all? He hadn’t known that she knew about it. Why tease her with the thought of a big bash in her honor when he wasn’t going to deliver it? This was the kind of thing that had been driving her crazy since they got back together. Although he had told her that he was over it all, and that he had forgiven her, he routinely dropped little nuggets like that comment to make her feel bad all over again. If he truly loved her, why would he do that? It was just mean, and she was getting tired of it. It wasn’t fair, and she didn’t think that she deserved it. If he was still mad, he should have never taken her back. Still, this was a nice dinner, and she was determined to have fun, even if she had to make the fun herself. He wouldn’t bring her down.

“So what are your plans for the summer?” Liz asked him.

“I’m moving in with Jason and Tony as soon as school gets out,” said Tommy. “It’s going to be fun, having you around this summer. We’ll see each other a lot more often than we did last summer, when you were back at the lake.”

“Actually, I am going back to the lake this summer,” said Liz.

“I thought you and Anne were getting an apartment together,” said Tommy.

“I told Anne to talk to me about it in August. I never planned on staying here through the summer,” said Liz.

“Oh,” said Tommy. “Well, that’s taz, then. I’ll drive up and see you as often as I can.”

“I’m going to be pretty busy this summer,” said Liz. “I need to work a lot of hours to pay off my tuition for next year.”

“Oh,” said Tommy.

“Yeah,” said Liz. Why was he acting so wounded? Didn’t he realize that she had to work? Her job was up there, not down here. Tommy worked all of the time, and she had to see him around that schedule. She was only working during the summer. And just because she would have to work a lot, that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to see him at all. It wasn’t fair for him to act like she was doing something wrong here. She wasn’t. Of course she wanted to see him. She just knew that work had to be her top priority. Just for a few short months. She was determined to graduate, and she needed to pay for her classes.

“So what will you be doing after graduation next year?” Tommy asked her.

Liz smiled. She had been wanting to share this with him. She had just decided, and she was getting excited about her idea. “I think I might go teach in Thailand for awhile,” she said. “I was recently talking to the exchange student from there that lived with us when I was in high school. It’s a whole other culture, and they would be so grateful to have a music teacher. I think it would be such a rewarding experience to go and work there. I might like it so much, I’d never come home.”

“Sounds… interesting,” said Tommy. Liz frowned. What was the matter with him? He should be more excited for her. She thought that it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and all that he could say was that it sounded interesting? Where was his sense of adventure? Where was his spirit? Why wasn’t he happy for her? Was he only thinking of himself, and upset that she would be leaving? She didn’t want to be with a man who was going to drag her down, or who didn’t love her enough to encourage her to do something so good for the world.

“You could come, too, you know,” she said, hoping that would alleviate his worry of her leaving.

“Really?” asked Tommy in surprise.

“Yeah, of course. I would definitely like to keep you around,” said Liz, touching his arm. “You could join me after you graduate the following year.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” said Tommy, clearly taken aback. Well, it was a large thing to drop on a person. She’d give him that. And he hadn’t said no. Maybe he was all right after all. She could usually tell when he was being dismissive, but she could see that he was actually processing the idea. Not that she could see Tommy being happy in a dirt hut, as she wanted to go to the really poor villages. She wasn’t sure she was actually going to do it, but if he’d be willing to follow her, then that would prove to her that it was true love, and he had forgiven her. Maybe he’d even start to get excited about the idea, too. Who wouldn’t? It sounded so amazing. She’d let him think about it before pushing him. It was a big decision.

“Thanks again for dinner. And the earrings. I love them,” said Liz.

“No problem,” said Tommy. “Of course, that isn’t all of your birthday present.”

“Really?” she asked. “There’s more?” She hoped not. The party would be one thing, but she didn’t want him to give her more extravagant gifts than the jewelry. It was more than enough.

Then Tommy got a sly look in his eyes, and she suddenly knew what he meant. And that present was something that she could look forward to. “Yep. I’ll give you the last bit later tonight,” said Tommy.

“I can’t wait,” said Liz sincerely.

June 3 B.G.

Liz happily walked with Tommy towards her car. Ok, so she wasn’t so happy. But she was smiling outwardly, trying to appear happy. He, on the other hand, was genuinely happy, unless he was one of the greatest actors of this generation. Liz didn’t think that he was. She had seen videos of him acting in high school productions. His friend Walt was pretty good, but Tommy was just all right. If he was acting now, she would have seen right through him. Still, she wasn’t completely sad. She had some reason to be happy. She was returning home for the summer, back to her parents’ house, nearly two hours away. She missed home, and it would be good to get back. And she’d be back here by the fall, which wasn’t that long of a time from now.

Tommy helped her with her bags, smiling at her. Gods, he looked good to her today. His short brown hair had a fingers-running-through-it quality that she often took advantage of. He had always had a little belly, but had slimmed down a bit lately. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a great t-shirt. She knew that she loved him, but she’d had a lot of time to think about the decision that she had made, the one she was about to let him in on, and she knew that it was for the best. He didn’t talk about his feelings all that much, but she knew that he loved her. He loved her so much that he had even told her that her new neon orange streaks in her hair looked adorable. That was love. She thought that in the long term, she’d be very happy with him. The doubt and tension that had been there a month ago were gone now. They had truly been happy this past month. And that was why she had to make this decision now, before it was too late and she never did.

Liz turned to hug him warmly and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She took his hand as they dropped off the last of her bags and began to lead him towards the nearby park. One last walk around before she left. They took walks often. Well, Tommy took walks often. She sometimes joined him. It was a warm June evening. The campus of Wester Jeffersonville College was in the middle of a great, small town, so they had beautiful tree-lined sidewalks and clean, almost crime-free streets. They walked towards a field only a couple of blocks from college. It was nicely mowed, used for sports practice. They often came here to gaze at the galaxy, away from the village lights. Tonight, the sky was clear and the stars were bright. As they walked hand in hand, Tommy seemed totally at peace with the world. This was exactly how he wanted his life to be. It wasn’t fair that just when Liz realized what she wanted, she had to give it up. But for him, she would.

Liz stopped and looked at Tommy. “I think I want to break up.”

“What?” he asked in surprise. He looked dizzy and had to lean on a tree to stop himself from falling down. Her heart broke, having to say those words to him. “Why?”

“I just don’t think I should be with anyone right now,” she said, trying to sound flippant. She knew from past experience that when she acted like a jerk during the breakup, he’d take it better. She wanted him to take this well. She loved him, and knew that she could spend her life with him, but the timing was off. She wanted to travel the world, teach in Thailand, experience life. He wanted to settle down and get married now, have a family. And she wanted him to have it, to be happy. She didn’t want him to resent her later because he had given up his dreams to follow hers, and she knew that’s exactly what would happen if she let it go on. She wanted him with her, but knew that he would never truly be happy that way, and she cared about his happiness. Better to end it now and let him move on than string him along and ruin his life.

“With anyone?” he stammered, confused.

“Yes,” she said. “I think I need to concentrate on finding myself. I can’t do that when I’m with you.” The statement was a total lie. It hurt her to say it. She hoped that it sounded convincing.

“Ok…,” said Tommy. She could tell that he hadn’t expected this. She wished that she could tell him everything that was going through her head, but he’d never be convinced that this was best course of action. He would argue that he wanted to follow her, to be with her. She wasn’t about to stand in the way of his picket fence and two point two kids. Tommy had always been a very supportive boyfriend, even putting up with Liz’s constant changes of mind. It was time to pay him back by letting him go. It was the right thing to do, and while he’d never know it, it hurt her just as much to say these things as it hurt him to hear them.

“It’s not that I don’t love you,” said Liz, letting some of her true feelings slip through. “If I was going to be with anyone, it would be you.” Brack. Why had she said that? She was only going to make things worse!

“Look, Liz. I love you. Whatever you need to do is fine. I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, and I’ll always be here for you,” said Tommy. The poor guy. He could barely get those words out. She needed to finish this conversation. It was time to get out of here, to make a clean break.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

“To what?” he asked.

“Wait for me,” said Liz. She hoped that he wouldn’t. Sure, she’d come back eventually. But it would be easier on them both if she didn’t. She hoped that he’d move on quickly, so the temptation wouldn’t be there. She didn’t want her weakness to hurt him any more than she already had.

“It’s all right. I don’t mind. I won’t want to date for awhile anyway. If you rethink your decision again, I’m still here,” said Tommy. That was when Liz’s heart finally broke in half. It hurt more than she had dared to imagine that it would.

“I know,” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “You’re so sweet. But I think this time it’s for real. I think I change my mind too much. I’m not good in a relationship.”

“That’s one of the things that I love about you,” he said, and she could tell that he was sincere. He had always put up with her flights of fancy and her impulsive ways with good humor, somehow even finding it attractive. Damn it.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m just a single type of girl.”

“Ok,” said Tommy, clearly not believing it.

“Good bye,” said Liz. She kissed him on the cheek and left him standing on the sidewalk. If she had stayed any longer, he would have seen her cry, and she didn’t want that. Nor could she bring herself to glance back at him, as much as she wanted to. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do, but it was for him.

July 3 B.G.

“Whoa. You won this?” asked Walt Edmund, looking past Levi at the big, empty house on the tree lined street in the peaceful neighborhood, just a few blocks from their college.

“Yep. Fair and square,” said Levi Fernal.

“I’ve never known anyone that won a house in a radio contest before,” said Tony. “I mean, you hear of those types of contests, but you always think that they’re rigged, and no one actually wins.”

“Well, I actually won,” said Levi. “It’s mine.”

“You don’t sound all that excited,” said Sam Berkley, looking at Levi in concern.

“I just wish that I had someone to share it with,” said Levi sadly. “I figured that once I got to college I’d find a girl. I’m going to be a junior, and I still haven’t even been in a mature relationship.”

“Well, you’ll find her,” said Sam.

“But in the meantime, you could always share the house with me,” said Walt.

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Levi.

“Really?” asked Walt in surprise. “I was just kidding.”

“No, seriously. It’s got plenty of room. Move in,” said Levi. “Tony, Sam, you can move in, too, if you want.”

“I wish you had won earlier. I just signed a lease with Natalie a couple of months ago,” said Sam.

“And you love living with me,” said Natalie Mounds, coming up behind her with Tommy.

“I definitely do,” said Sam. “Still, rent free living…”

“Maybe when our lease is up,” said Natalie.

“Where’d your glasses go?” Tony asked Tommy.

“I got contacts,” said Tommy.

“Nice face fuzz,” said Sam, rubbing his chin.

“Thanks,” said Tommy. “I decided that it was time for a change.”

“How about you, Tommy?” asked Levi. “Ready to move off of campus?”

“Sorry. I’m in with Jason and Tony for the year,” said Tommy.

“And we’re going to have a great year,” said Tony, smiling at his roommate. “I’m a senior! Almost done!”

“You haven’t been happy since you moved in,” said Walt to Tommy.

“I don’t think that’s because of Tony and Jason,” said Sam.

“Jason is acting like a big jerk and being mean to Tommy,” said Natalie, looking like she would strangle Jason with her bare hands if he were here right now.

“He’s not being mean, exactly. He just doesn’t like to be around people that aren’t happy,” said Tony.

“Tommy has been a real sourpuss lately. You need to cheer up. Right now. I demand it,” said Walt.

“Thanks, Walt,” said Tommy. “If only it were that easy.”

“Hey, has anyone heard from Anne?” asked Levi, trying to change the subject.

“No. Not one word all summer,” said Tony.

“I haven’t heard from her, either,” said Tommy.

“That’s so weird,” said Levi. “We were all so close, but she was getting a bit withdrawn towards the end of the year. I hope that she’s ok.”

“She’ll be fine,” said Walt. “She’ll be back soon.”

“She can be a bit moody,” said Sam. “She should cheer up.”

“Everyone should cheer up!” said Natalie. “This conversation is depressing me.”

“I miss Liz,” said Tommy.

“If you dare take her back one more time…,” said Natalie in a threatening tone. “I don’t care what she says. She keeps hurting you. You are not dating her ever again. I’ll kill you myself. It’ll spare you the pain.”

“She is a big miro,” said Sam. “You don’t need her.”

“Yeah, you can do way better than her,” said Tony.

“Let’s not talk bad about her when she’s not here,” said Walt.

“She treated your best friend like shit,” said Natalie.

“Still, I don’t like talking about people behind their backs,” said Walt.

“Who wants to see the inside?” asked Levi, changing the subject again.

“Oooh, ooh, me!” said Walt. “I get to pick my bedroom first!” He ran for the door.

“Hey, dummy. I have the keys!” said Levi, holding up a chain. “And I get to pick the bedroom first.”

“Why do you get to pick first?” asked Walt.

“Because it’s my house,” said Levi.

“So?” asked Walt. “Hey, does this house have a pool? We should get a pool.”

“There’s no pool,” said Levi.

“We have to get a pool!” said Walt.

“The summer is almost over!” said Levi.

“You can’t have a house without a pool!” said Walt insistently.

“At least some things never change,” said Tommy, smiling at Walt. It was the first time that he had smiled in a month.

Two hours away, Liz was also with friends, and though none of them had seen her in a month so they wouldn’t know, she was also cracking her first smile since the break up. That was good, because if she hadn’t, Jason Clucker would have probably gone home. As it was, Jason was the one causing the smile, so it all worked out. That was why she had invited Jason up here, to cheer her up. “Cannonball!” he shouted as he jumped into the pool.

“Hey!” shrieked Nora, laughing as she got drenched by the large man. “Leave some water in the pool for the rest of us.”

“Are you calling me fat?” asked Jason, wiping water from his face.

“You’re not fat. You’re cuddly,” said Liz.

“Am I cuddly, Roger?” asked Jason, looking at Nora’s husband for confirmation.

“Very cuddly,” said Roger Blacken. “I call the spot on the couch next to Jason tonight!”

“Yay! We’re going to get our cuddle on,” said Jason, giving Roger his sexy, pouty look.

“Don’t even think about trying to turn my husband gay,” said Nora.

“Hey, babe. If you can’t keep him happy, I will,” said Jason.

“I keep him plenty happy,” said Nora.

“She definitely does,” said Roger with a smile.

“Hey, no sex talk in the pool!” protested Liz.

“Honey, I only talk sex talk,” said Jason. “Get used to it, mmm-kay!”

“Ok, only Jason can talk sex talk, because we know he isn’t getting any anyway,” said Liz.

“Ohhhh, no you didn’t,” said Jason, snapping his fingers three times.

“Jason, I love you, but you’re white,” said Nora.

“I think I need another margarita,” said Roger, draining the last of the cup that was sitting on the deck beside the pool. He smacked his lips and grimaced. “I love chlorine flavored margaritas.”

“Nora, make us some margaritas!” ordered Jason.

“Why should I do it?” asked Nora.

“Cause I said so,” said Jason. “Do it now, or I’ll make your husband brack me in the ass.”

“Fine, fine. Roger, keep your suit on,” said Nora.

“I’ll come and help you,” said Roger, following his wife out of the pool.

“That’s right!” said Jason. “He doesn’t trust himself out here with a sexy beast like me.” He climbed out of the pool and charged past the couple for the house. No one stood between Jason and his alcohol.

“Are you coming in, too?” asked Nora, looking back at Liz.

“In a minute,” said Liz. “I’m going to let the sun dry me for a minute first.” She laid out on a reclining deck chair.

“Ok. I’ll let you know when they’re done,” said Nora, disappearing into the house.

Liz watched them go, and her smile slipped. It was sure nice to have fun again, but she couldn’t keep up the happy charade full time. It was killing her. She looked south, towards Columbus. She knew that she had made the right decision by letting Tommy go, but not a day went by when she didn’t think about him. She considered calling him just to see how he was doing, but she didn’t trust herself to talk to him without breaking down and telling him why she had dumped him. And if she did that, she knew that they’d be back together before they hung up. She just couldn’t do it to him again. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t think about him, every chance that she got. The one that got away. She’d never find another man she loved as much as she loved Tommy. But love motivated her to let him go, and she would have to live with it. Love sucked.

But if Liz had known that summer that in just a few months, Tommy would disappear from her life without a trace, she probably would have called him.

October 1 A.G. ~ Global Goose Command Headquarters, Canada

Tommy shot another goose through the chest, sending the creature flying back several feet into the wall. It was time to get out of here. He needed to find Walt and get to safety. He hoped the tall guy was still in the relatively safe place that he had left him in. Tommy began to make his way towards his friend, shooting any goose that stood between him and Walt.

A blur of movement high in the air caught Tommy’s eyes. He turned, expecting to see yet another goose sentry rising into the air to shout out his location to the others. Instead, he saw Walt above the cubicles, looking around, searching for something. Walt’s eyes lit up when he saw Tommy, only twenty feet away. Tommy smiled. His best friend was all right. They were both going to make it. Maybe they won’t die in this goose stronghold after all.

And then pain hit Tommy in the chest and arm, intense and sudden. He gasped, stumbled, fell. Tommy saw two geese coming towards him with guns drawn. He had been shot! He brought his hand up to his face and saw blood. This was it. This was what death felt like. He expected his life to flash before his eyes, like they always said it would, but it didn’t. Instead, one face filled his entire vision, even as his eyes closed and he collapsed onto the tile floor. The one face, the one that mattered to him more than anything, the one he loved with all of his heart, was Liz. She would never even know how he died. Then darkness reigned supreme, and even Liz faded away.

THE END

A special epilogue “Missing Him”, will be in Actor’s Nightmare Extra (ANEX) a collection of short stories due out in 2008!