30: Against Fear

The battle lasted for almost a full year...but at long last, it is over.

I fought through its minions, who sprang up as fast as I cut them down. I made my way through the spectral maze, ignoring the apparitions that attempted to thwart my progress.  I even managed to solve the Three Riddles, which have confounded the wisest of men since the dawn of time.

At long last, I faced the dragon...and a more dangerous and cunning foe I have never known. The flesh-ripping talons and fire breath were equaled in power by its words. The honey-sweet lies...and the bone-chilling truths. Terror clutched my heart, but I was not overcome. Surrender meant death. To survive, I must fight.

Finally, I struck the killing blow. It let out an ear-splitting scream as it crashed to the ground. Once its death throes had finished, I removed my sword from its head.

In an instant, the body began to dissolve. The skin, bones, and meat burst into flame, while the blood oozed out onto the ground. The stench was incredible, but I did not leave...I dared not, until I was sure the battle was over.

Once the dragon had burned away, I could not believe what remained: a large egg, which was already cracking open. Inside was a dragon infant, which looked exactly like the beast I had slain.

"This is not over," it hissed at me. "We will have this fight again."

"Maybe," I said, as I turned to walk away. "But next time, you won't be as big."

29: I'll Be the First To Go

"So, let me get this straight. The nations of the world, and all non-national armies and fighting forces, agree to ban the use of: guns, bullets, tanks, missiles, bombs, grenades, land mines, chemical weapons, nuclear weapons, knives, swords, axes, arrows, bludgeons, ninja throwing stars, and flame throwers. In any and all future conflicts."

"That's correct, sir."

"My god, what the hell is left?"

"Umm..." The lieutenant searched through his notes. "...Nerf."

The general smiled. The next war was going to be awesome.

28: Sympathy

His underlings were there to greet him as soon as he walked in the door, but he waved them away. "I'll be in my office," he snapped.

He went straight for his office, and locked the door as soon as he entered. It had been a long and excruciating day, in an unending string of them. When the pressure--and the depression--got to be too much, there was only one cure for it. He opened his desk, and pulled out a box.

Inside the box was something very special...a promise. A promise that, someday, his work would be done. He could leave this job, knowing that it would be unnecessary. He could finally go home.

Hesitantly, he opened the box. A brilliant light filled the office, and he was washed over with a feeling of infinite joy. Here, in the very center of despair, there was a microscopic fraction of Him, and His love.

He closed the box, before the power of it destroyed him completely. Slowly, the feeling faded, leaving him cold and hollow. He buried his head in his hands and cried.

"Someday..."

27: We Have a Recipe

The family was gathered around the table, which was loaded with all the trimmings of our traditional holiday meal. Green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, scalloped corn, dinner rolls, Jell-O with fruit in it, and a perfectly roasted Jehovah's Witness.

26: Not the First Time We've Had This Conversation

My girlfriend and I were on the couch. I was idly flipping through channels, while she laid down with her head resting against my leg. "We should do something," I said. "Is there anything going on this weekend?"

"Well..." she started. "There's the Beatles tribute band playing at the Groove tonight...but they only do the stuff from the Eighties."

"What stuff--"

"Or there's the new Muppet movie. Some people say that Jim Henson doesn't have it anymore, but I thought the one from three years ago was great. Oh! Or we could go over to Mallory's; she was telling me that her girlfriend just bought the new season of Firefly."

I finally had to stop her. "I have no idea what you're talking about. None of those things can possibly be real."

She looked up at me. "I keep forgetting that you're from the evil alternate universe."

25: Burning Love

Stanley ran full tilt down the stairs, almost laughing with excitement. He was going to see her again tonight. The love of his life.

All the preparations had been made. Her gift was ready--you have to have a gift for her, and she did love them so. She was also very particular about who she would associate with, so the homeless people in the alley had to go. Stanley had bribed them with some sandwiches and whatever cash he had in his pocket; they'd left for the mission on 12th Street a few hours ago.

After reaching the ground floor, Stanley bolted across the main room. He shouted in glee as he leaped over some random debris and barreled through the door.

He had just made it across the street when the countdown finished. An explosion rocked the fourth floor of the abandoned office building, blowing out whatever windows remained. Stanley felt the heat on his face as he looked back...and then he saw her. She stood out from the flames and smoke, looking more beautiful than ever.

The Lady in Red.

"I LOVE YOU!" Stanley shouted. She smiled, and mouthed the word, "Soon."

Stanley grinned from ear to ear. He would kiss her, someday. He could only do it once...but what a kiss it would be.

24: Hunted

I have been running for hours. My lungs burn, my legs ache. But I can't stop, and I don't dare look back.

I am the prey. It is the predator.

I can hear every footstep, every breath. I dart through the trees, trying to use the surroundings to my advantage. It keeps gaining.

Suddenly, my foot catches on a tree root, and I fall to the ground. I manage to roll over just in time to see It looking down on me in triumph. I am powerless to resist as It places a hand on my chest.

A strange sensation washes over me. The world changes--or rather, the way I see the world. My senses become sharper. My vision, clearer. Fatigue and fear drain away, replaced by insatiable desire.

I look back up, only to find that It has gone, replaced by a young girl in a pink coat. Within her, there is no more trace of this power. This curse.

Once realization sets in, she starts to run. As I regain my footing, I feel compelled to go after her. I start running, as free will is overwhelmed by instinct. This is what I do...what I am.

I must hunt. I must chase. I must capture.

For I am...It.

23: Paleontology Today

Dr. Kleinschmidt was going over yesterday's reports when one of the students burst into her tent.

"Doc," the student wheezed, then paused to catch his breath. "Come quick--you're not going to believe what we found!"

Dr. Kleinschmidt looked up from her notes, a hint of excitement in her eye. This dig had been a disappointment so far, and a bit of good luck was more than welcome.

"What is it, Perkins?" she asked as she gave chase to the student, who was almost running back to the site.

"Apatosaurus!" Perkins shouted.

Dr. Kleinschmidt's heart raced, and not just from running. "What part? Skull? Leg? God, don't tell me we've got a whole skeleton..."

An ear-splitting roar brought them both to a skidding halt.

Perkins grinned. "We found a bit more than that..."

22: Ink Spotted

I don't want to set the world on fire...

For now, Manhattan will do.

21: Monday 8

I woke up to the sound of a phone call. After a few attempts at unlocking the cell, I managed to answer. "Hello?" I said, groggily.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" shouted the man on the other end. It was Gabe, the chief security advisor on the Project. "I tried calling all day yesterday!"

"I'm a heavy sleeper," I muttered. "What's going on?"

"The Project is screwed, that's what's going on! A foreign contaminant got into the sample, and it spread like crazy. We're showing a 72 percent corruption rate."


I was shocked into wakefulness by Gabe's report, and sprang out of bed. "What? There's no way--there wasn't even a hint of it when I left. Did you try the decontamination protocols?"

"Of course!" Gabe shouted. He was always excitable, but this was a new level of panic. "Mike and I ran a flash decon yesterday afternoon. Got rid of most of the contaminated elements, but destroyed a lot of the actual experiment in the process. We restored as much as we could, but then the corruption rate spiked!"

At first I'd thought Gabe was blowing things out of proportion, but now I started to worry. "I don't understand...how could this have happened?"

"I suggest you talk to the Chief Assistant...only you can't, because he buggered off last night and took half the staff with him. To be honest, sir, I think he's directly responsible."

"I'll thank you to keep your suspicions to yourself," I snapped back. While I had often argued with the chief assistant on how the Project should be run, I couldn't believe he'd stoop to outright sabotage. "Give it straight, Gabe. Is it really this bad?"

"It might be worse. We can't verify just yet, but there have been signs that the contaminant has been mutating. If it becomes airborne, it could affect the other experiments. We may have to scotch the whole thing."

"You will not," I said. "I'm headed to the lab right now. We can still salvage this thing--I am not about to throw away all that's been accomplished."

"We'll need a miracle," Gabe said. "And it pains me to say it, but I will destroy the Project if that miracle doesn't happen. I don't want to, but the integrity of the other experiments may be at stake."

I'd already decided to forgo a shower, and was frantically searching for a clean shirt and pants. "Don't do anything until I get there, all right? I'm practically out the door."

"Underst--" he answered, but I'd turned off the phone before he finished.  I finished dressing and sprinted to the car. My life's work was one the line, and every second counted.

Mondays. I hated them already, and this was only My second one.

20: A Single Step

I would walk out on you, if I could find my legs.

19: "The Incident"

TO: Personnel
FROM: Management
SUBJECT: NEW REGULATION--IMPORTANT NOTICE

Effective immediately, anyone caught using the transdimensional gateway as a latrine will be court-martialed.

18: Direction

I have only ever known the Road.

Every moment of my life has been spent walking. Though my feet are blistered and bleeding, I cannot stop. There is a force that compels me to keep moving.

Occasionally, I see others on the Road. We all move at our own pace--some run, others crawl. I walk, as I have always done. Even though we all know where the Road ends, we still make the journey.

I am finally near the end of that journey. Off in the distance, I can see the End. I can feel the heat. Hear the screams. The End scares me like nothing else, but I can't stop myself from walking toward it.

My muscles scream with every step. My skin cracks and peels under the harsh sunlight. I have grown accustomed to the agony, and it hardly slows my pace at all. This day is no different from any other.

Until suddenly...it is.

For the first time, I see something that surprises me. There is a sign off in the distance--there are always signs, but this one looks different. As I get closer, I see why. Someone, perhaps another traveler, had written over it.

The message is so obvious, I can't believe it hadn't occurred to me already. And yet, in all my time on the Road, I had never even considered the two words on that sign, written in blood.

TURN AROUND

17: Make a Wish

I peered through the scope of the sniper rifle, taking careful aim at my target. I had him dead to rights, but didn't fire--I was under strict orders to wait for the signal.

Had to admit, this was one of the weirdest jobs I'd ever taken. But I figured, what the hell. The money was good, and I don't get paid extra to ask questions.

Through my sights, I could see through the dining room window. There was a little girl seated at a table, with her family and friends all gathered around. Her mom came in from the kitchen, carrying a big chocolate cake with seven lit candles.

Down below, the little girl--Amelia, her name was--took a deep breath, and blew out the candles. As soon as the last flame went out, I pulled the trigger. A second later, her uncle Frank's head exploded.

Everyone in the room started screaming. All except little Amelia.

Happy birthday, kid.

16: Timmy's Imaginary Friends

Mrs. Hollis looked down at the eight year old boy who had just entered her office. "I wish I could say I was surprised to see you in here again, Timmy. Disappointed, but not surprised."

"Sorry," Timmy mumbled.

"I'm afraid 'sorry' isn't good enough this time. This is the fourth incident in the last two weeks, and by far the most serious. Brad Weatherton may have to go to the hospital because of what you did."

"I didn't do it, ma'am. My friends--"

"Ah yes, these 'friends' of yours," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "The same ones that sent Hunter Clark to the nurse's office on Wednesday. And Jaiden Moore two days before that. And the Sletten brothers, last week."

"They're very protective, ma'am."

Mrs. Hollis sneered. "This is beyond ridiculous. You're looking at another suspension, Timothy, and your parents can expect a long conversation about the possibility of expulsion. I have had quite enough of you blaming your imaginary friends for your fights."

For the first time, Timmy showed a slight amount of indignation. "They're not imaginary, ma'am."

The principal stood up and leaned over her desk. "Then why can't anyone see them?" It was at that moment that she felt the point of a sword in her back.

Timmy's answer was very matter-of-fact. "Because they're ninjas."

15: Continue?

"GAME OVER," the arcade cabinet blared. Within seconds, the countdown appeared on the screen. "TEN. *beep*"

Instintively, I reached into my pocket for another quarter. I didn't put it in the slot right away, though.

"NINE. *beep*"

It had to be getting late. I wasn't sure--arcades generally don't have much in the way of clocks or windows--but I knew I'd been at this machine for a long time.

"EIGHT. *beep*"

I took a quick look at my phone, to check the time. I'd pretty much killed the afternoon, but supper wouldn't be for a few more hours. I had some time.

"SEVEN. *beep*"

I took a quick look around, to see what else was open. Most of the best games had small crowds around them; I'd be in for a wait if I wanted to switch.

"SIX. *beep*"

I gave up on that option, and turned back toward the current machine. My score was not reassuring--I was nowhere near the top of the rankings. Still, I'd spent enough time on it today; I figured I might as well see it through.

"FIVE. *beep*"

"FOUR. *beep*"

"THREE. *beep*"

I bent down to the coin slot, ready to buy back in...and then I realized something very important.

"TWO. *beep*"

"I don't even like this game," I said to myself, and dropped the quarter back into my pocket.

"ONE. *beep*"

I walked away from the cabinet, not even bothering to put in my initials.

"ZERO. *beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--"

14: Buzzwords

The meeting began at precisely 10:38 am.

"Let's think outside the box. A paradigm shift is coming, and we need to grow our business if we expect to survive the sea change."

"First, we should calibrate expectations. Is this a win-win? Can we use disruptive innovation to leverage our business-to-business capabilities into something that promotes real synergy?"

"Our commitment to rightshoring gives us a unique opportunity to move forward. Our ROI should show some real gains in sustainability."

"What about the spin-up? If we show that we're willing to eat our own dog food, that will help spotlight the brand. We can go hyperlocal in the big markets, which is mission critical for our visibility--and at the same time, we can push the envelope toward globalization in lesser markets. We just have to make sure we're not trying to boil the ocean."

The air shimmered around them, and they knew it was time. The CEO rose to his feet. "Let's run it up the flagpole..."

The others spoke as one. "AND SEE WHO SALUTES!"

Just outside the building, the sky tore open and the Nameless One crossed over from its home dimension.

13: I Am Leaving, I Am Leaving

I swing again. The cut under my eye reopens, and fresh blood trickles down my cheek.

I swing again. A tooth comes loose. The familiar metallic taste washes over my tongue.

I swing again. My vision blurs. I fall to one knee, before willing myself back up.

Through the ringing in my ears, I hear them ask why I do this. If my jaw wasn't broken, I might tell them about the promise I made long ago. I swore that no one else would ever hurt me.

I swing again.

12: First...

I thought for a moment. Then, a moment became a minute...and a minute became five...and five became twenty. Finally, I had to give up. "I don't know what I really want. I wish I did."

The genie smiled a little. "You might be the smartest master I've ever had."

11: Almost

She clutched her chest as the bullet ripped through her. She made a few more steps before crumpling to the ground.

He was at her side in a moment. "No, please..." Tears streamed down his face as he tore open her coat. He pressed his hands against the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "C'mon, baby. Hold on. Just...hold on..."

She put on a weak smile. "It's okay," she said. "We'll make it, next time."

He watched her slip away, and shook his head. "That's what you said the last time."

10: The Hoax

Arthur had just gotten back downstairs when he heard the announcer's voice again. "We'd like to thank you for listening to Haskins Motors Radio Theater tonight. We also remind you that this was a fictionalized broadcast, and not an authentic news bulletin."

He was so shocked, he almost dropped the knife.

09: The Long War

Across the battlefield, I can see the face of my enemy. I have chased him across countless galaxies, in the name of justice. For too long has he written his sins across the stars--the massacre of the Korrula Settlement, the enslavement of the noble Kth'Danak people...the War of the Blood Moon. My energy reception and conversion unit still turns at the thought of it.

After countless years, I have finally caught up to him. Now, only this small section of desert separates us. Unfortunately, I cannot advance--greater forces than the ones that drive me, now hold me in place. The only solace is that he is affected by these same forces.

We stare at each other, across the sand. Even now, in the face of his inevitable defeat, he shows me nothing but scorn. I am tempted to return it, but I must keep my thoughts clear. Though he does not deserve it, he will receive justice.

Just as soon as Timmy finishes his homework.

08: Evolution

0

1

10

11

101

110

10011

11001101

111100000011110001

111111100111110000011000111110110001111


2

07: Obituary

When the police came, I could have said something. I could have told them about the blood under the rug, or the back room where my brother was still crying. I could have shown them Mom's collection of bottles, or the bruises on my arm that were the same shape as Dad's hand.

In the end, I didn't do anything. I knew the police would have to leave sometime.

My heart kept beating for another sixty years...but that was the day I died.

06: Abduction

After what felt like hours, the hood was finally removed from Phoebe's head. She squinted against the harsh lights, and struggled against her bonds. She could hear her two fellow captives doing the same--one of them was whimpering, but she couldn't tell which.

When her vision cleared, she caught a glimpse of several strange things--the band, the howling crowd, and the cameras--but quickly Phoebe's eyes locked onto the man who had done this to them. The grinning madman, with his hand on a switch.

“We're back, ladies and gentlemen!” he said. “And our contestants are about to find out why we call this the lightning round!”

05: Break

The message had come to me the day before. “Tomorrow, 3 am. Be ready.”

I lied on the bed, waiting for the hours to pass. Eventually I fell asleep, before waking up to the sound of voices from the other side of the wall.

“Set the timer! Two minutes!”

“Watch for guards!”

“Go! GO!”

I could hear a beeping noise, and figured it was a good time to move. I got out of bed and crouched in the corner, my back against the bars of my cell.

The explosion shook the room, and sent debris from the wall flying through the air. A chunk of brick sailed just over my head, ricocheted off the bars, and caromed under the bed. When the dust and smoke cleared, I saw my old friends standing on the other side of the hole they had created.

The guards would be here any minute. I didn't have much time.

It took less than an hour for the warden himself to arrive on the scene. He saw the giant hole in the wall...and then at me, sitting on the bed again.

“Good morning, sir,” I said. “I'm going to need some bricks.”

04: Negotiations

I'm going to need an answer soon; your time is almost up. Before you decide, I have to warn you--you won't stand a chance. The last time any of you tried this stunt, they lasted about two hours...and they had twice the army you do.

Did you really not know? This happens every thirty years or so. One of you gets the bright idea in their head that they're going to rule the world. So they talk the rest of you into it, and you come into the city, ready to demand a crown and a throne...and all you find is us.

The first couple of times, we just slaughtered you all, but after that we got smart. Started taking prisoners...started coming up with new ways to fight you. As for how we tested them...well, let's just say you're not covered by the Geneva Convention.

Don't believe me? You look back at human history. Give us an enemy, and there are no lengths to which we will not go to destroy that enemy. We'll justify it however we can; maybe we had to protect ourselves, or our resources...hell, maybe they just had something we wanted. Really though...when it comes to inhumanity, we are the undisputed champions. And that's what we do to each other. You pose an actual threat; just think about what we'll do to you.

Or...you could wait a few minutes, and find out firsthand.

See those snipers on the rooftops? They're not carrying rifles--those are high-intensity spotlights. They've got the brightness of sunlight times ten, pointed right at your heads. All our soldiers are equipped with stakes and firebombs. Every fire truck, hose, and hydrant on this street has been blessed by the Archbishop. And while my garlic aftershave hasn't done my social life any favors, it's just the thing for keeping you away.

If you give up now, you'll be incarcerated...but trust me, prison's the best option for you. The boys in lab coats have a few ideas they're dying to test out, and some of 'em even turn my stomach.

This is your last warning. Either you and your mob surrender peacefully...or I swear to God, we will show you who the monsters are.

03: Them's the Rules

"Oh, God...the bleeding won't stop! Why won't it stop?!"

"Because you rolled a seven."

02: The Duel

Lord Bartholomew Slattery stood before me on the field where we had chosen to do battle. “I trust the location is to your liking, Baron?”

“They are,” I answered. “Is my choice of weapons agreeable to you?”

“Most certainly,” he said, “although you are a greater fool than I had previously supposed. You give me the option of using my own favored rifle? And what, pray tell, will you be using?”

I held up a stick, then opened my hand to reveal a marshmallow.

Bartholomew grinned. “A card to the end, Baron. I would laugh, if I didn't despise you so much. Shall we?”

I nodded, and we took our places on the field. As I skewered the confection onto the end of the stick, my opponent called out. “Don't think the distance shall save you, Clive! I'll have you know that I am perfectly accurate with this firearm from twice this distance, and more!”

I made no reply, except to hold my right arm at a 100-degree angle, pointing the stick directly at Lord Slattery. When I was ready, I called out, “Shall I do the honors?”

“Please do!” he shouted, the amusement clear in his voice. He was so intent on me that he never noticed the blue ball of light forming in the sky, directly over his head.

“Fire,” I shouted. Before Lord Slattery could even shoulder his rifle, he was disintegrated by the laser beam from my orbital satellite. His second stood a mere fifty feet away, and was cooked from the inside. By the time the heat from the blast reached me, all it did was lightly toast the marshmallow.

As I consumed the victory snack, my own second approached. “Hardly sporting, sir,” he chided.

I replied, “I don't hear Bartholomew complaining.”

01: Hope

I saw the young man again. He was standing in the middle of the bridge on 28th Street, staring out over the river. His shoulders were slumped as he leaned heavily on the railing.

I checked my watch--11:59 pm. My timing has definitely improved, I thought.

The man--barely more than a boy, really--stepped up on the rail and swung his left leg over the edge. Slowly, he brought his right leg over as well. He sat there for a while, steeling himself for what was to come next, and took his last look at the city.

As the hour hand ticked into its new position, I took a few steps toward him. He couldn't have heard me, because of the howling winds...but that didn't really matter. By now, he'd come to expect me.

"I know you're there," he shouted. "Don't say it. Don't you dare--"

But I had to.

"Don't do it, kid," I yelled back. "Maybe it'll be better tomorrow."

He tried to close his eyes tight, but something made him open them again. I didn't know if it was fear, or resolve, or curiosity...and to be perfectly honest, I didn't much care. All I needed was for him to take one more look.

His eyes filled with wonder as the city shone like gold all around him. Old, crumbling brick buildings were replaced by well-maintained apartment blocks. Breathtaking works of art stood where billboards had been. This was a city built on a foundation of respect and community, rather than greed and prejudice.

Even here on the bridge, he saw things differently. There was no trash on the asphalt, no pollution in the river. There were clean, quiet cars that floated above the ground, rather than the smoke-belching trucks and oil-leaking cars that I saw. The homeless man who had been panhandling on the other end of the bridge was now clean-shaven, well groomed, and smiling at strangers as he had a phone conversation with his oldest daughter.

He didn't look at me, and I was glad for it.

All too soon, the vision of what should have been faded, leaving him with only the knowledge of how short we had all fallen. Still, that was enough to back him down--he climbed over the edge, stepped to the ground, and started walking home.

He whispered something to me as he left. I couldn't hear it over the wind, but I knew what it was. It was the same thing he always said.

"Damn you."