September 2009
14 posts
Jeff finds himself in a cavern, lit by flickering light sourced somewhere beyond the stalagmites. How long had he been out? A towering skeleton serves as a prison, the ribcage his cell. He puts his hands to the cold white bars, searching for weakness. Footsteps echo up the chamber.
Jeff ascends the landing. He spots her, standing there against the rail - her posture defensive, like she half-expects a kiss, or a push. He isn’t sure which to give her.
Jeff dips his pen in the inkwell. Broad strokes leave ember trails etched into the air. Arcane symbols, pulsating with unearthly power. The room is wall-to-wall bookshelves, ancient volumes writ in long-forgotten script. The last candle flickers and goes out.
Jeff can’t take his eyes from the body. Blood stains the hardwood in patterns too perfect to be natural. He’s one of them now, crowded about in the lantern-light, eyes fixed in morbid fascination. Unified at last under a new label: they are murder suspects.
Jeff slips in and out of consciousness. The heart monitor beeps out a steady rhythm, and the brain waves play pretty patterns for no one to see. Somewhere in the distance, a newborn cries.
Jeff alights on the rooftop. The jetpack was a rousing success, or it would be, as soon as he figured out the heat shield. He consoles himself with this as his body buckles and drops to the concrete. Third degree burns were a small price to pay in the scheme of things. He is thankful the hospital has a helipad.
Jeff isn’t quite sure what he was thinking after all could it be they were right about him that is what does the world need with an enlarging ray anyway couldn’t that be considered a little insane at least using it on those chipmunks was unnecessary and what is he going to do when they run out of nuts
Jeff frowns without knowing why. Something in that last clip… He hits the slider, backseeks to the approximate time. Listens intently. It sounds as if a second signal is introduced, but that would be impossible, unless— He locks the door, quietly. Reaches for the red phone.
Jeff has never seen this particular effect. Snow clings to every surface, even the hanging branches, whitening the evergreens. Yet he is not cold. A stone staircase, also dusted white, rises to the pedestal. He approaches, anxious for some sign of the spark. His steps leave no footprints.
Jeff enters the cafe with a wary eye. The time is right, if a little wrong. Far too much daylight yet, and not nearly the crowd of disorderlies. A mistake to let Carter set the meeting, though he prays not a grave one. A subtle tick to off the safety. He settles in the corner booth and smiles at the pianist.
Jeff puts his ear to the keyhole, careful not to rattle the door. “I am Alendandra the Fourthkind,” he hears. “It is my province to keep, and my people.” Swiftly, Jeff unwraps the cloth from the vial. A little liquid, a little shadow - or that merchant would have a tourniquet for a recompense.
Jeff runs as fast as his stupid effing legs will carry him. Stupid effing Bobby with his stupid effing ideas for a stupid effing vacation. Jeff hopes he’s happy now, with his STUPID EFFING torso and his STUPID EFFING time machine hanging from the STUPID EFFING JAWS OF THE T-REX
Jeff paces up and down the line, clipboard in hand. Five clicks may have been acceptable with the old models, but eight years in R&D bring certain expectations. He initiates standby mode on the nearest worker and begins inspection. The man attempts a smile. Jeff doesn’t return it, already scribbling on his clipboard. The eyes are too bright.
Jeff awakes in a luminescent forest, aware of a presence. Fireflies cluster about fronds of red and blue. Alien toadstools surround him, symmetrically spaced; a perfect circle. He is unafraid.