Mutant red-furred rabbits with glowing eyes in a futuristic lab. One rabbit breathes fire, while others leap. Scientists in lab coats stand shocked in the background as a mysterious light bathes the room.

Attack of the Atomic Bunny Rabbits, Chapter 1

Attack of the Atomic Bunny Rabbits
Flames in crimson fur,
rabbits leap through fire and ash,
chaos hops away.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Attack of the Atomic Bunny Rabbits!

“The rabbits look like they are doing well this evening,” said Dr. Barnes.

“I suppose they are,” said Dr. Roberts.

The laboratory was large, stark and white. A glowing orb of energy hung low from the ceiling. Reflectors surrounded it and concentrated beams of light on a fabricated patch of grass in the middle of the room. On the grass, a dozen healthy white rabbits hopped and played. They munched on celery, carrots, and lettuce from two larger bowls. They bounded around and chased each other.

Barnes watched them, clipboard in hand while Roberts checked a readout on his laptop. He was jotting down things, making little tick marks in different columns.

Roberts put his glasses up on his head while he read some of the data coming in. Transmitters behind their ears sent in data.

Some of the rabbits were playing a little rough, pouncing on each other. They smacked each other with their large hind feet and rolled around a lot.

“They are becoming more aggressive,” said Roberts.

“I agree,” said Barnes. “The light is doing its job well, though.”

“At least, we aren’t working on mind control anymore.”

“No doubts there. The Television industry has that pretty well bottled up.”

“Did you see the game last night?”

“No.”

Barnes searched through the pocket of his lab coat to retrieve a new pen. He had just gone dry.

“How did we get into this anyway?”

“You mean you never wanted to grow up to become a mad scientist?”

Barnes shrugged. “Are the lights too high?”

“They seem to check out okay. I think we’re still within the parameters of our test. Wouldn’t be much good if we lost that.”

“I’m not sure it should matter. We haven’t seen that much of a change already in their temperaments.”

“True. Tonight is an interesting example, though.”

“Not much more than a little roughhousing. I think they are bored.”

“Possible.”

“Maybe we could throw in some enrichment? A couple of toys to get their attention.”

“Sorry, that would invalidate the test for sure. No, we’ve got to ride it out.”

Barnes put his clipboard down and looked on at Roberts’s computer station.

“This reading is a little high,” said Barnes.

Roberts waved it off. “Not likely to cause much of an impact.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively. I think that’s a result of them getting too riled up tonight.”

One of the rabbits leaped up, three feet in the air and landed on the other side of the enclosure.

“What was that?” said Roberts.

They both looked, but in just a moment could no longer tell which rabbit had made the jump.

“Interesting,” said Roberts.

“I’m getting my lunch,” said Barnes. “Can I get you anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

Barnes nodded and made his way down to the lab’s lunchroom. It was a cramped back room with a table, sink, refrigerator, microwave, and one chair, yet enough table for five or six. Barnes remembered many nights coming in here to eat while they were waiting for an experiment to finish. There used to be two chairs, but now there was just the one. He couldn’t remember where it had gone to.

He pushed his way past a filing cabinet, closing the middle drawer with his hip as he passed it. This had become second nature to him, and he no longer realized he did it anymore. It slammed with a rusty thud.

He pulled open the fridge and got out his lunch. It was a sandwich and some soup in a Thermos.  He opened the Thermos, and a waft of warm air greeted his nose. He set that down on the little table and opened the sandwich. He slid that into the microwave and turned it on. Beneath the sandwich, a long strip of torn foil still remained.

Barnes walked out on it, in search of the bathroom. The sandwich would be waiting for him when he got back.

The sandwich turned and burned. It began to spark, and then it caught fire. Flames burst out from the microwave, and the door flew open. Now fire was belching from the open door.

The fire alarm blared.

Roberts looked up from what he was doing.

“What was that?”

The alarm continued to ring. Small lights around the lab began to blink.

Then the microwave completely exploded.

The burned sandwich covered the walls. The refrigerator toppled over, and three months of leftover containers fell into the floor.

Part of the wall was on fire.

Somewhere beyond there was a larger explosion.

Barnes popped out of the bathroom.

“What was that?” he said.

He ran down the hall, past the burning break room, and down the hall to the laboratory.

Pushing open the doors, he found Roberts face down by one of the tables. Barnes checked his pulse. Roberts was still alive. “Come on there Roberts,” Barnes smacked the side of Roberts’s face. He didn’t come around.

He looked up.

The lights were pouring down on the rabbits.

“That’s not right,” he said. “That’s way too high.”

Rabbits were beginning to cook.

Their fur grew, and got bushier, becoming more of a candy apple red color. Their eyes began to glow.

Barnes thought it was just the lights coming down, making beady eyes beadier. Then one jumped.

It flew through the air and landed on Barnes’s face. Then it kicked, pushing off and sent Barnes toppling to the ground.

“What the…”

Barnes fell back and hit the ground, clattering into a table that was covered with papers. He flew over the top of it and sprawled on the floor behind it. When he sat up, holding his hand over a small cut on his forehead, the rabbit was actually opening the gate for the other rabbits. It kicked the gate open, with what now looked like a clawed foot with deep red fur, and they all began to stream out of it. They ran over Barnes, each softly kicking him in the face with their big furry feet as they crossed the room.

“Hey!”

Their leader, the others were still in the process of turning gradually darker and darker red, looked him in the eye, with fiery white-hot yellow pupils. It opened its mouth and breathed a jet stream of fire on him, singing his hair before turning and bounding down the hall.

The bunnies jumped through the fire from the break room, bounced off a turn towards the front door, past the bathroom and then jumped into the iron front doors, and could not move them. They launched themselves, into the doors, and bounced off, or landed with silly looks of confusion on their furry faces. Then they started to gasp and gather air into their lungs before spitting a stream of flame on the door to heat it up.

One of the bunnies passed out, but the rest kept concentrating on heating the door up. The unconscious one’s fur returned to its original white, but only for a moment, then it blinked, looked around, woke up and started turning fiery red again. A moment later it was jumping and belching at the doors with the rest of them.

The doors came loose, and landed in a twisted pile of metal, surrounded by the ash of other burned materials.

In the lab, Barnes shook Roberts, who came around.

“What happened?”

“The rabbits are loose.” It wasn’t Barnes.

They both looked up, and standing above them were two official-looking men dressed in dark suits.

“Doctor Barnes, Doctor Roberts,” said one of them. “We’re going to need to confiscate all this material you have around you.”

“Who are you?” said Barnes.

“I’m Mr. Green, this is Mr. Red,” said Green.

“No, I mean who are you?”

“There’s no time for that. This building is about to come down.”

There was smoke coming from down the hall. The fire had spread beyond the break room.

“Don’t worry,” said Red. “The Fire Department has already been notified. Do you have any knowledge of which direction the animals may be going.”

Barnes shook his head.

“We’ll be in touch,” said Red.

Agents Red and Green made their way out of the lab, and into the night. Barnes and Roberts watched as other agents, who only identified themselves as Mr. Yellow and Miss Purple, took files, and destroyed computer records with some form of a handheld light-up device while the Fire Department doused the flames.

A big rabbit footprint appeared on Barnes’s face, where it had kicked him. It stung, red like a sunburn.

Mr. Yellow snapped a photo of the footprint and sent it to Mr. Green with his phone.

“Thank you, sir,” he says as the flash goes off in Barnes’s face.

Outside, Mr. Green and Mr. Red survey the grounds outside and the remains of the front door. They look around, through their scanning devices, and then shake their heads. They don’t see any sign of the rabbits.

Next to the fire truck, parked on the curb is a large silver van. Mr. Green and Mr. Red knock on the backdoors, which open. Inside Mrs. Orange is ready to drive, and Prof. Blue was looking over the data coming in from everyone’s scanners.

“Can you make any sense of it Blue?” said Green. “Our scanners aren’t picking up much of anything.”

“I’m starting to see a pattern,” said Blue. He slipped his hand into his pocket for a bite of chocolate, offered it to Green and Red, who refused, then stuck it in his own mouth and chewed while he thought. “They seem headed down into the valley. At least, that’s what this shows. The trails you are sending back peter out thirty feet from the door.”

“How is that possible?”

“If I knew that, we’d have the little devils back already, wouldn’t we?”

Green and Red looked at each other.

“Don’t worry,” said Blue. “If I’m right, they won’t stay hidden for long.”

Away from the lab, the rabbits rocketed through the underbrush and set it on fire. They fired their way down alleys and between houses as they reached the valley. Their businesses stopped and the village began. They nestled into backyards, tree houses and garages, finding cool spots to curl up and nestle down for the evening. Their fires cooled, and their eyes darkened, no longer glowing with fiery light, to wait for the morning. 

A grand underground chamber illuminated by eerie green and pink lights. A massive, sleek alien ship hovers, its doors closing as tentacled creatures retreat inside. In the foreground, a rat detective and a monocled frog in a top hat stand victorious, while dazed townsfolk recover from their possession, illuminated by the ship’s glow.

Shadow Street Chapter 11

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

Mr. Curtis smiled and shuffled a deck of cards. I did not know where he’d gotten them from. He fanned them out, stepping closer and closer to the beast, writhing there. I could see friends, some family, our client Mrs. Smith and a ton of rolls and jelly donuts from which all hung tiny little wriggling things all around us. He shuffled them again, then fanned them out again, taking another step forward.

“Pick one, anyone.”

He held them out. As he walked into the middle, I got ready. To do what I wasn’t sure about. The silver ship gleamed, and they looked ready, either for an escape or a vacation, and I wasn’t sure which. They were loading the young onto the ship. People from around town, mice and rats alike, moles and rabbits, a few pigeons, stacked boxes of wriggling young while some lurched forward in their oddly possessed bodies. The larger one I found had a raccoon.

It held out a tentacle and drew a card from Curtis’s deck.

Curtis quickly grabbed it and turned it up. “This is your card? Memorize it!” He shuffled it back in, fanned the deck, then juggled the cards, zinging them through the air until they were landing in the faces of everyone all over the place looking at him.

It’s important when you’re doing a card trick. You do several things, lie to the audience, use misdirection, and tease them. You have to distract them for things like the fey. That this isn’t the deck you just licked your card from that I’m flinging all over the place.

He held up the original deck. Then pocketed it into his waistcoat again.

“But this is a deck of exploding cards I’m going to stop you with.”

Everyone gasped, including me. Several of the cards he was flinging came my way.

“But sorry, I lied again. Just cards, check them. Check them all.”

Everyone with a card turned it over. It was a match. We all had the card.

“That your card?”

Everyone nodded, holding their cards out, and showing them to each other.

“Sorry, I lied again. They explode.”

All the cards exploded, each sending a shower of salt which covered the room at once. The squid creatures writhed and flopped. Then Mr. Curtis was reaching into my pockets and lobbing holy water like they were Molotov cocktails. They exploded over the walls and the ship.

I broke out of my temporary haze and started lobbing my bottles, as well as dousing myself and Mr. Curtis. It seemed to keep them off of us. The room descended into panic. The creatures escaped their hosts, crawling and shooting from their throats. Some bodies hit the floor harder than others, but others just kind of gave a slight hiccup then blinked and saw where they were, which was in the ship, boarding with a box of wiggling jelly donuts, without disembarking, or watching Curtis and his magic trick. Everyone was coated in holy water, and the squid was rolling and trolloping for the ship.

I started checking people. It’s all right, no. Everything will be fine. I don’t know, is that a ship over there? I’m not sure where this is going either. Let’s check your heart and your blood pressure. No, I’m sure everything will be all right. No, I’m not sure. Aliens? In our town? They have little recollection.

They slipped and slimed aboard, and before we knew it, they were taking off.

Through the windows of the ship, I saw defeated, distraught faces and eyes, unsure if they’d gone about this the wrong way or wronged someone. They appeared hurt and stunned, more than angry or upset.

I felt like looking at them; I was sure they were confused and stung by their attack on us. They didn’t think we’d fight back and weren’t sure we knew what they were, which we didn’t.

Mr. Curtis bowed before them. Waving his arms, and laughed as the ship lurched up through what turned out to be one of the larger unused stacks around the city, then he turned and helped me, but not before shaking his fist at the ship as it rose into the air and flew into the sky until it vanished among the other stars in view.

“Take that, Yes. Yes. Take that back where you came from.”

“How’d you do it?”

“The trick?”

“Yeah. They were all aces of spades.”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“Give a demonstration?”

“Well.”

“Never! It’s magic!”

He pulled a coin from behind my ear and threw it up on the ground, and started helping me help people up.

Soon we had about thirty bewildered adults and a rat. I believe his name was frank and were bringing them up through the caverns.

The mushroom cave was lit with phosphorescent light. We walked through it like it was an underwater forest, filled with spiders.

We crawled up through pipes behind Mr. Curtis, who was better at that than I was natural, except sometimes I had to alter the course to accommodate frank. When we found a lantern, a little one, but a nice one, I gave it to frank because he could hold it higher than anyone else.

We climbed ladders, switched, and went down passages, and into actual pipes until we returned to the bakery. We climbed to the top, then stood to help the rest up. Frank was last.

It was a quiet night.

Mr. Curtis and I stayed, as well as a few of Mrs. Smith’s other employees, to help clean up the bakery. We wiped down the counters, cleaned the ovens, mopped the floors, and then Mr. Curtis and I stayed to clean up the dining room while others started getting ready for the day ahead.

Mr. Curtis and I moved into the dining room and set the tables and chairs upright with Mrs. Smith. We went back out to the loading area. Argus was there, with his coach making a morning delivery of supplies for the day’s baking.

“Argus,” I said.

“Morning sir. Lift anywhere soon as these gents unload me?”

“Yes, good morning Argus, stick around a moment.”

“I will,” he barked, shaking his head and fur for a second.

We hammered the last nail into a fresh floor shortly after that, blocking the drain for good, and another crew was sealing it over with gravel and mud before packing it in.

“Nothings ever coming up this way again, Mrs. Smith.”

“Thank you, boys.”

It was already showing the light of morning, so we took Argus’s cab back to our apartment on shadow street.

“Where have the two of you been all night?” said Mrs. Constellation.

She stands in.

“Covered in powder,”

“Flour.”

“Drenched, suits torn and destroyed.”

“Hello, Mrs. Constellation.”

“Get in here and clean up.”

She swept us into the house and batted us towards the stairs.

“That owl from the tower’s been flying around hunting all night.”

“Arthur.”

“Oh, we know his name now, do we? Hanging around with predators when you should investigate for that poor woman at the bakery.”

“Bakery.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Now, off with you. Get cleaned up. I’ll not have you two looking like a couple of roughnecks who are traveling the train tracks.”

“Interesting,” said Mr. Curtis.

“Now, get on..”

She shewed us like a couple of pests up the stairs.

We passed through the parlor and kitchen up to the sitting room Mr. Curtis and I used during business hours, and then up to our floor.

Mr. Curtis turned to me, fanned out a deck of cards, and said, “Pick one, anyone.”

“Curtis, I’m done.“

I was already unbuttoning my waistcoat, my jacket, and what was left of it over my shoulder.

 “No, go on, pick one.”

I sighed and reached out, taking a card at random. It was the king of spades,

“Nice job mate, one of our stranger ones, right?”

“You know it.”

He dropped and sat on the floor in his doorway. I had my door open and was halfway in.

“Aliens? Or whatever. Possessing townsfolk? Odd.”

“Disturbing.”

“Arthur’s nice though.”

“The owl frightens me.”

“Well, he should. He could eat either of us in half a second.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight James.”

“Goodnight Curtis.”

I closed my door and sat in my second favorite chair, this one a little more comfortable, but a little worse for wear than the one I kept in the sitting room. My bed lay undisturbed, but I ignored it. Its curtains were open. Next to my chair was a small table lit by pale morning light with this journal upon it.

I pulled the shades. Made it as dark as I could, and fell asleep in my chair.

It was nice, the quiet. Even Curtis was still somewhere. Behind my eyelids I listened as deep in the house Mrs. Constellation was bumping around, and out on the street cabs were trotting by and people were getting back out into the city again.

I dropped off.

There was a thin line of light in my room through the shade.

There was a dream that I had. I was on the roof, meditating as a murder of crows swarmed around me, picking up mice in the field I was now in. My clothes were gone, and I was seated with my eyes closed, yet still observing the birds swooping this way and that, never catching me. They’d swoop, dive, catch a fresh field mouse, but I wasn’t there. I’d moved some distance away, without moving. I’d blink, my eyes still closed each time a crow was diving to attack me, and I’d see neither mouse get taken from thirty feet away, the line I simply blinked and teleported across the field. Soon, a second one attacked, and I blinked away. They were swarming all around me, but couldn’t touch me. Beaks snapped, and they made a kill of their prey, but it was never me.

Then I was in three places at once in the field, each watching my other two selves, unable to concentrate on one well enough to see the other, then there were a thousand of me across the world.

I woke up in a cold sweat, panting, naked, holding my tiny samurai sword above my head, unsheathed, aloft, and ready to attack nothing. There was no one with me.

I sheathed the sword, the only thing of my fathers I still possess, and placed it quietly back into the closet, hearing it thunk against the sidewall, and got out a fresh suit.

I washed up in my basin and dressed in a fresh shirt, waistcoat and jacket, and left to go downstairs.

The sword. I hadn’t thought of it in four years, not since starting up with Mr. Curtis, doing our brief investigations around town. It always stayed closed in the closet, behind door after door. I wasn’t a weapon guy. I didn’t have any training. When I found the sword in his things, I couldn’t believe it. It only had a note, a warning to keep it well, to take care of it. Every time I tried to sell it, I’d lose it. Each time I became agitated, it’d get in the corner.

I don’t move it around. I think it moves. I don’t talk about it much. Best I think to just keep it in this journal for now.

"A futuristic flying car glides over the Everglades at twilight as a steaming figure emerges from the swamp. In the distance, a hidden facility glows with eerie green light."

The Man With Three First Names, Chapter 13

The Man With Three First Names
Rabbits leap through time,
Portals hum with shifting fate,
Night and day now split.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.

Two weeks later Michael found himself walking through the rose garden at the White House, with the President. The morning air was crisp, and the wind was kicking up a little bit. The President, wearing a long coat, though he could have cared less about the actual temperature, smiled and talked with the man with three first names.

They shook hands.

“It’s good to see you, Mike.”

“It’s good to see you, sir.”

“How has the business down south been treating you?”

“Can’t complain. Not many people remember. It’s getting harder and harder to say it wasn’t a line of tornadoes now.”

“Well, that’s good.”

President clapped Michael on the back. “What do you say to a stroll?”

“That’d be nice sir.” They began to walk out on the front lawn, members of the secret service in the wings behind them, fanning out like ducks.

“Ah, don’t worry about them. Half of them are robots too.”

“And what about the other half?”

The President laughed. It was a simple laugh, quiet and short, but Michael knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with it today.

“I wish you’d reconsider. There’s plenty of space for you here on my staff. With the election coming up, who knows. I could use you. I need you.”

“And you’ll have me. I’ll be around, just not on your direct payroll.”

“That’s the way you like it anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“What’s with the whole Man With Three First Names thing anyway? I’ve always wondered that.”

It was Michael’s turn to laugh. The President knew better.

“I know. None of my business, right?”

“Nope.”

“Can I offer you anything, a better office, maybe a small staff? What about another partner? I heard about Simon, I hope he’s doing well.”

“I think he’ll be back eventually, but no, I don’t need a partner. I don’t need anything.”

“I think you do. I think you need people. As many people as you usually end up tagging along with you on a mission. You know how to pick them.”

“That I do.”

“Aliens, travelers…”

“Robots.”

“Yes, robots. I’ve heard you have a talking zombie head in your office. That ought to be fun.”

“Two.”

“Oh, two is it?”

“Yeah, well it’s best to keep them in pairs so they have someone to talk to when I’m off galavanting about.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, have you heard the vice president and the speaker of the house? They’re like two zombie heads in my office sometimes.”

“I can imagine.”

“Look, why’d you come here today Michael? What can I help you with?”

“I was just checking in.”

“Checking in.”

“Well, after a case… I wanted to make sure there was nothing I could do for you.”

The President thought about this for a moment, which to a human must have been like reading the contents of the Library of Congress in a millisecond, and said, “I’d like to see him.”

“No, Look, No, that’s just not a good idea.”

“I play the part every day. Hell, I’ve assumed all his responsibilities plus, and only you and I and the secret service here know I’m a…”

“I know.”

“A robot. There, I said it. I’d like to see him. People look up to me. They ask me to solve their problems and help them work out their differences. I have a right.”

“A right?”

“Even as a robot, you bet. It’s all I want. Where is he? Can I see him? I have to know.”

“He’s very sick.”

“I know. It’s all I know. It’s all I know that he isn’t dead. I want to meet him.”

“He won’t even know you’re there.”

“Try me.”

“Okay.”

“Michael looked up at the secret servicemen. Gentlemen, I have to take the President for a ride. He touched a control on his belt, and the car arrived quickly to pick them up. I know you have to be with him, but I can only take two of you. We’ll be gone for a couple of hours, who wants to come?”

Two of the seniors stepped foreword. They held back the rest of them with a wave. Everyone got on board, and they drove off.

Michael was headed out of the city when they pulled out the blindfolds.

The three of them put them on without a protest. They knew where they were going.

The car slung out into the sky and dipped and weaved about until finally settling down into a regular, low pattern. It slid through a tunnel, with other cars in another nearby city sometime later, and then somewhere dark, dank and cool, they came to a stop.

“All right, you can all take them off.”

They got out of the car in an underground facility. Above one of the doors from the hangar/garage was a DNA strand logo covered in stars, and the moniker The Sublight Group. He walked them through the doors, which swung open, and all around them, people got out of the way. Many nodded and said hello to Michael, but most had been trained not to acknowledge him. He wasn’t in charge, he was just welcome and trusted.

They made their way down fluorescent-lit corridors that felt like they’d been designed by someone who did public school buildings and libraries in the seventies. There was a faint yet acrid ammonia smell to the place.

Michael led them down to the last door at the end of a long windy series of packages. The door was black and shiny. There was a card lock on the side. Michael just waved his hand over it, and the door opened.

“He’s actually awake,” said a guard.

He peaked in.

“Sir? You have a visitor.”

An ailing voice beckoned them in.

The door slid closed behind them, and they were in his presence.

Sitting, in a wheelchair, and hooked up to about a hundred cables was the President, the real President. He looked about ten years older than the one standing next to Michael, and there was a reason for that, it had been by design. He appeared asleep, but the head moved and the eyes listed to the right to look at them. He spoke low into a microphone that echoed his raspy voice all around the room.

“So, you wanted to meet me then?”

“I did.”

Michael stepped back with the secret service guys.

“What do you think?” he whispered to the robot.

“I don’t know. What happened?”

“It was in my second year in office. You aren’t even supposed to remember this. I went off on a mad chase with Michael here. Look at him, he’s slinking away from us, getting out of the picture a little, as much as he can.”

The real President coughed, but couldn’t get his arm up to his face, and the spittle just ran down his shirt.

The robot President winced and turned to watch Michael.

“Oh don’t blame him, He and I have been getting into trouble for years. I just caught a bad one this time, an alien virus. It left me like this. He and I brought in doctors and technicians from all across the galaxy but nothing in the realm of science could help me. Nothing seemed to work, so we built you.”

“Do I make my own decisions?”

“You’re programmed to do what I would do in any given situation, and you do a good job. Is that answer satisfactory?”

“As good as it gets I suppose.”

“I suppose so too.”

“What about you, is there hope?”

“If there weren’t, I wouldn’t be alive now. If it means anything to you, You’re doing pretty well, though you could treat Michael here a little better sometimes. He does take good care of us.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s the Sublight group. It’s my company.”

“Wasn’t the Sublight group responsible for the portal?”

“Yes, well we’re into a bunch of things these days, all in the interests of national defense.”

“Can I come back?”

“Michael?”

“Michael turned his head.”

“Can he come back?”

Michael looked at the Robotic president. “You know how I feel about that.”

“He says, of course. It’s Michael’s way. He thinks people who are curious should know, especially when the secret is about them in the first place.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

“Michael?” said the real President.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got another assignment for you.”

“Give me the details, and I’m on it.”

“Just what I was hoping for, get in your car, I’ll tell you on the way.”

The President and his men were dropped off back at the white house, and after sliding by Jen and Walter’s new place for a bite to eat, he was back in the sky.

He touched the video unit on his dashboard and the face of the President, the real President appeared.

“Michael, I’ve got a job for you. It’s pretty strange, I need you to turn south and head for the Florida Everglades.”

“Oh, not another swamp creature again.”

“Hear me out pal, this isn’t an ordinary swamp creature.”

“What’s different about this one then? Does it grow psychedelic mushrooms on its back and kill people by convincing the bacteria in its enemy’s stomach to revolt against it?”

“No,” he said with a smile.

“So then it feeds on local wildlife, making a mockery of the dead remains by using them for demented puppet shows?”

“Now that’s just sick.”

“Or how about this, does it control the alligators with its luminous hive mind, and cause them to eat tourists near some swamp park?”

“Hardly.”

“What is it then? What are you sending me up against?”

“It’s just Harvis, he wants a word about the car. He called me earlier and was asking what you were up to later.”

“That rabbit? Is the car what he wants?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s been calling my cellphone all day.”

“Why didn’t you answer it?”

“Why would I want to talk to him? He can’t have my car.”

Michael flew into the swamps, and out of sight.

Later that night, Simon hit the ground hard, smoldering at the hair, a crazed look in his eye. He’d managed the jump all on his own. He lumbered through the swamps, his feet still hot and stinging from the journey, burning his footprints into the ground as he walked. When he dipped his feet into the water, they hissed and popped as the water vaporized.

His skin healed as he made his way through the swamp, following the trail of Michael’s flying car.

A cavernous underground chamber, dimly lit by eerie green and pink lights. Stacks of wooden crates are piled high, with strange tentacled creatures shifting them. In the distance, a sleek white alien ship looms. Two crates crack open slightly—inside, a rat detective and a monocled frog in a top hat peek out.

Shadow Street Chapter 10

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

“So, are you ready then?” said Arthur from the roof of our townhouse. Mrs. constellation had a foot in Mr. Curtis’s back, cinching a leather strap tight to keep him and all the holy water tied to his body. It looked like he had an extra leather jacket worth of bags strapped to him. Tying the cinch off made his tongue lash out and almost hit me in the face.

“Curtis!”

“Sorry,” his tongue was still recoiling into his mouth,

His arms bulged out over the bags and he checked the hound could get could reach into the strange pockets.

“Yes, Arthur,” I said, as Mrs. Constellation yanked a strap and pushed her foot into my back, causing me to add an auuuggghh to the end.

“Indeed,” said the owl, looking more at the moon, and raising a wing to judge the air. “Let’s get this over with. You say you can get these things to vacate, then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“Good, then let’s get on with it.”

Mr. Curtis reached up and pulled a coin from Arthur’s ear, and smiled.

“See there?” said the frog. Even covered in strange bags of holy water, I can still do magic.

“Nice. You know I’m an owl, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“And I have a superior hearing?”

“Well yes, okay.”

“I could hear you flip the coin out from between your fingers.”

This stopped my friend for half a second.

After a moment he bowed, and said “magic!”

Mrs. Constellation pulled another strap holding in a half a pound of salt under my arm. It made me wheeze and my eyes bug out.

“Just about there,” she said.

She did it again before I could say anything.

“Thank you,” I said in a whisper.

“Let’s get on with it, then. The bakery is only a couple of blocks away.”

“Yeah, let’s get out there.”

He swooped up into the air and crossed in front of the moon in a great shadow.

“Arthur?”

Then he came down swiftly, and I felt like prey, open talons coming for us, Mr. urticaria and my vagabond to run life or lives depended on it. It wasn’t rational; it was just moon, owl, talons, run! And off we went, with Mrs. Constellation watching us, disapproving with her hands on her hips.

Then he grabbed us by the big leather bags strapped to us, and talons closed silently over our shoulders, strong and snug, but not tight enough to kill us, and we were airborne.

Above us, we could see nothing. Everything was feathers, down and to the sides of stars and rooftops. He was still keeping low, mostly gliding, with a few beats of the wings to get where we were going.

Below us, the streets were empty except for the occasional staggering person possessed by one creature. What was I doing, even fighting this? I struggled, pulling at Arthur’s foot, and trying to drop my salt. I was going to climb up and I don’t know escape. Land on a roof nearby and skitter away?

Arthur just gripped him harder and said none of that, squeezing an “Okay” out of my lips.

Mr. Curtis hat his arms out wide, his eyes slightly loses and his tongue hanging out just a little. I think he was having airplane putter noises, but I couldn’t tell you for sure because I was still so afraid for my own life at the moment.

The second time I looked, he had three playing cards in each hand, acting like they were flight feathers of his own, I expect.

“Isn’t this outstanding!” He yelled.

“Yeah, great.”

Arthur swooped, and I held onto my hat, pulling it over my eyes, and felt the rush of the wind until the gravelly texture of the roof over the bakery was under my feet trying to tear my furry toes off.

He laid us down as gently as he could, and I thanked him by hugging his leg in desperation. He kicked me off. I rolled to the side and got up sharply, dusting myself off. One of my salt bags started leaking, but that was okay. I’d run and create a trail, anyway.

Mr. Curtis popped a cork out of one of the holy water bottles. I don’t know how h did it with a mouth devoid of teeth, really, but it was done. Maybe he grabbed it in there with his tongue or something, but quickly he was spitting two corks out and smiling.

“All right then?” said the owl.

“We’re good from there.”

“All right then. Later.”

He flew into the air.

The main chimney was there. Now that I could see Arthur flying off into the distance, I was happy it wasn’t too tall for us to climb.

I scrambled up it, and Mr. Curtis jumped to the top in one leap.

“Ready?” said the frog.

“Not really,” some came out of my mouth.

“Good,” he said, then he pushed me in and jumped behind me.

We slid down the chimney and landed in a hornet’s nest.

They surrounded us, covered in soot, and we rolled into the middle of them. Mrs. Smith was there, her face open, and the tentacled creature clearly in charge, with several of who looked like other folks from town, also being operated in line, they were little vehicles for yellow squid guys. They were loading something into bags, and it looked like they were putting them into the dough for tomorrow.

“To effect, infect more?” I said without thinking.

They stopped everything and dropped what they were doing and got holy water in the face from Mr. Curtis. Who said “Tally-ho!”

I took the cue and started throwing handfuls of salt in all directions. I threw it at people, on-the-floor, in directions that made no sense, and off across the room where nothing but sweeping up would happen later, anyway.

I jumped over the counter. Salt in Mrs. Smith’s squid face. Everyone was wet. People were steaming. It was getting harder to see. I realized a second later that they were tossing so much flour into the air that everyone was getting pretty sticky.

Out came the first octopus. It slid off the face of one guy. There was holy water and salt all over the place. It scrambled. I lost track of it.

“The ovens,” I heard one say. “The bake,” I heard another one say, then more salt slinging. I was getting it everywhere. The bag at my side was leaking fast now. I got the rest in my hands and went after Mrs. Smith.

She scrambled in and over counters, and I got her from behind when Mr. Curtis turned to the oven and got her attention.

She turned in a split second to scream when he turned it off then I salted her probably a little too well.

The squid slid out and left her body behind.

It wasn’t a husk. She was breathing, but the yellow squid guy wasn’t happy either. Covered in salt that was destroying his body and holy water that was steaming, it could escape. It crumpled to the floor. The others we’d encountered were in similar shape. Now three left, stranded in seas of salt and holy water in little patches on the floor.

“Mrs. Smith?” I shook her gently. To my surprise, her eyes opened. Whatever the creatures were doing, it wasn’t permanent, at least at this stage.

“The ovens,” she said saintly, smiling up into my eyes.

“Yes, Mrs. Smith?”

“Incubators for their eggs.”

Then she passed out, unconscious in my arms.

“Mrs. Smith, I…” I laid her down, to rest on the salt and wet flour-covered floor. It was already in all the furs. I got one of the other guys, recovering to look for her while Mr. Curtis spread holy water and salt all over the counter.

“What’s up, partner?” I said.

“Here,” he said.

He took the largest squid and plopped it on the table. He and I followed with the others. They couldn’t move, and I dragged up a chair from the dining room and sat down heavily.

“What’s going on?”

“Invasion.”

“No need to possess people.”

“Our world is dying, dead.”

“Nice. We don’t want to be.”

“There’s more. We’re not alone.”

All his answers were coming directly into my mind. He didn’t seem to have a real mouth for speaking, just his beak.

The salt and holy water were melting them. They bubbled, then flopped. In the end, one of them said “ship.”

“They have a ship.”

“Come on, Dr. James,” Mr. Curtis grabbed me by the arm. I didn’t realize what he was up to until we got to the drain. The tentacles were there, drawing the boxes down into the tunnels.

“It’s the buns,” said Mr. Curtis. “The buns.”

“The buns what?”

“Incubators.”

“What?”

More boxes went down.

“They are growing their babies in the bread!”

“Oh god, and when we eat them,…”

“Then they take over.”

“Simple plan. Rake over enough to facilitate the work, and a few others, and get them down the drain.”

“What’s down there then?”

He smacked me behind my neck.

“The ship dummy! They are packing the ship with young, all warmly covered in a nice roll or donut to eat as they mature.”

“We’ve got to get down there,”

“Right!”

“In a box?”

We scrambled into boxes and sat by the others. Every few moments, another couple of boxes went down. Soon it was our turn, and everything turned upside down.

Tentacles grabbed us, and our boxes went flying. We tumbled, though carefully. The handlers didn’t want to disturb the contents. We sailed down, rocking against the sides of the box, sliding around like not a roll, but a large cake, maybe.

I held my arms out and tried to steady myself, knowing Mr. Curtis must do the same on his own, trying not to fall out before we get noticed.

Everything stopped.

My box stopped tumbling. It had set me down.

I lifted the lid on my box of donuts and saw it.

I was next to Mr. Curtis, who was also peeking out. We saw each other, which meant I needed to be a lot more careful.

We were in a cavern, large and lit with green and pink lights. The floor looked slick and stacked up were maybe fifty other boxes, just like ours. In the distance was the ship. The outside was stark white with silver highlights, and a day line of windows curdled circled the top.

Through the windows, I could see the big squid.

I wish I could stop calling them. Squid iron octopuses. They were neither, but I didn’t have a good name. It was large.

I quickly closed my box. Someone was going by. I felt like I wasn’t the only one moving. All the surrounding boxes were wiggling. One by one I could tear boxes opening and closing a few moments later, noon one at a time, maybe two or three at a time. Everything was jumping, so I started jumping. Why were we jumping?

It was feeding time. I was in a sea of boxes of vast creatures, and soon it would be my turn. What was I going to do? Crouch, okay, no. Act like a dinner roll? No amount of method acting was going to get me there.

They opened our boxes.

All eyes were on us. They were around us.

The big one in the ship trained eyes on us.

 I stood up, my fur still covered in flour.

Mr. Curtis took off his magic top hat. “Want to see a trick?”

"A colossal explosion consumes a monstrous entity atop Stone Mountain. A futuristic diner-airship hovers nearby, while a flying car speeds away. Figures stand silhouetted against the fiery sky as the portal fades."

The Man With Three First Names, Chapter 12

The Man With Three First Names
Rabbits leap through time,
Portals hum with shifting fate,
Night and day now split.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.

The missile went true, and straight, and long. It armed, and clicked, and whistled and turned and honed in on its target.

The creature looked up and all it could see was the red point of the missile coming at it. All it could hear was the roar of the missile as it approached, closing the gap.

It impacted with the rubbery body of the creature, which exploded in a giant fireball, expelling thousands (millions?) of gelatinous chunks in all directions.

The lower half of its body sat there quivering, and Michael and Simon stood up from it, with several of their new friends around them, other meals of the rubber monster. It stood there, hunched on its tail, and didn’t fall for several seconds until it rolled forward and spilled them out all over the mountain.

Fred and Moxie flew over in Michael’s car and watched as the little blobs around them of warbling rubber monster began to reform into tiny dinosaurs, and do a little rampaging of their own.

“It’s not over yet,” said Moxie. Fred pulled the flying car around, trying to get a larger picture of what was going on.

Jen and Walter pulled the restaurant into the park and held position over the scene.

“Can you see them?” asked Walter.

“Yep.”

Three of the mini monsters jumped up on the front window of the restaurant and started scratching and clawing.

“Walter!”

He wrenched the controls, and one of them fell off, but the others were still coming.

“What the hell,” he said, and wrenched the controls the other way, and another one fell off.

The third butted its head through the glass and started to come in just to find itself face to face with the business end of Jen’s blaster.

She pulled the trigger, and a blast of hot green energy flew forth and melted the creature on the spot, and took out part of the front plate glass with it.

The wind blew through the restaurant sending plates and cups and glasses everywhere.

“Aaaaah!” yelled Jen, and she pulled a switch behind the counter, and the window began to auto repair itself.

Walter pulled the ship into a dive, and pushed it back to the city, between the buildings. They were clipping trees down the street. He pulled up, and they could see them again, a huge number of creatures, little acid yellow rubber T-Rexes running all over the place. One of them was trying to eat a police officer whole but had only gotten him halfway down when he ran out of room. The man stood there, his legs flailing, and inside he was stretching the creature to the breaking point where it exploded, leaving behind a rubbery residue over everything around it.

Another pack of them was chasing dogs in a nearby park. They were gobbling the dogs one by one, but only able to keep one dog in their bellies at any given time, they were starting to be eaten from the inside out.

One of the little rubber dinosaurs was running down the street with the legs of a Doberman pincher hanging out of its mouth while the dog was barking from the inside, and causing the creature to expand like a bubble. Another one had eaten a chihuahua but was now running without ahead, as the little dog had eaten it and was now sitting on top of the creature like a little prince.

Michael and Simon rubbed the slime from their clothes in huge handfuls and slung them to the ground in big wet slops.

They looked around them at the creatures and up into the sky, where Fred and Moxie were currently pulling down in his car. “Need a lift?”

“Move over.” Michael took over, pushing Fred to the side. Moxie piled into the back, and Simon jumped in with her.

He pulled up. “Where’s Walter and Jen?”

“They’re just up there.” Fred pointed to the restaurant hanging in the sky.

“All right then,” said Michael. He lifted the car up and headed for the restaurant.

He pulled alongside it and called Walter.

The phone rang in the restaurant. Walter Picked it up. “Burgers and such, I don’t think we’re open at the moment though.”

“Walter, it’s me.”

Walter looked outside the restaurant at the flying car beside them. “You made it!”

“Yeah, look, I’ve got an idea about how to make all this go away, but I’m going to need your help, and I’m really, really sorry.”

Walter looked for a moment at Michael, and they exchanged a nod.

Jen looked up at Walter. “Whatever he needs Walter, you know that.”

“Man,” Walter sighed. “Whatever you need pal. We’re on board.”

“Good, now I’m going to fly ahead of you, I need you to get into place, and then follow us from there.”

“We’re right behind you.”

They flew the ship into position over a large cluster of power lines. The engines had always given them trouble around here, too much interference.

“Put it into park.”

“What, here?”

“Do it.”

Walter put it into park. The ship stayed there. It didn’t want to, but it did. It sort of fluttered, holding its position.

“Okay,” said Michael, “now overload it.”

Walter didn’t want to pull the lever, but he knew that he must. He pushed the lever down and engaged the engines. The trees and the ground started to warp and bend around them in sickening ways.

“Michael, I don’t think this thing can hold it much longer.”

“I know, I’m counting on it. Get out of there. You still have an old escape pod?”

“You know I do, it’s in the handicap stall in the men’s room.”

“Good, go use it. I’ll track you and come pick you up in just a second if I don’t have to send Fred here.”

“Okay, We’re on our way.”

The line went dead.

Michael threw his phone aside.

“Simon, you still have your whip?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good, stand up and get it out. I’m going to use Walter’s warp engine to pop open a new portal.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course. How do you think space travel is possible? Come on now. Fred, are you ready?”

“Yeah, what do you need me to do?”

“As soon as we open the portal, we’re going to get sucked through it, I need you to go and pick up Walter and Jen for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Moxie”

“Yes?”

“Give me your wrist band.”

“She handed it over, without a second thought.”

Michael put it on and then stood up in the car.

Moxie jumped over to take over.

Simon also stood up. They got out their transdimensional whips.

“Into the center warp point?”

“Yes, said Michael. You can see it, it’s like a circle of bent air, a bubble there, just below the ship.”

They pulled back their whips, which started to crackle in the air and popped them into the heart of the air warped by Jen and Walter’s warp engine above them.

The effect was instantaneous. The ship was gone, pulled through the void in a half a second.  The clouds were gone, blue skies above them. The whips were gone, and with them Michael and Simon, both pulled through the void just a second later, pulled and stretched and twirled around like they were going down some great celestial drain.

Then the creatures started to fly.

Moxie pulled the car through the air and down towards where Jen and Walter had dropped and were now watching the fireworks.

“Well there it goes,” said Walter.

She hugged the old man, he was all she had left now and all she ever wanted anyway.

Stragglers, strange creatures from the other dimensions, still hanging around were flying up to the hole in the sky. The memory of anyone not involved started to fly up as well, slicing through the sky, a purple haze of memory. They would remember only a vague sensation that the last week just hadn’t gone that well for them. People all around them started hitting the deck, falling asleep in their cereal bowls, and doing face plants in their spaghetti, only to snooze the next few days away and wake up vaguely bemused at what a day it turned out to be, and slightly annoyed with their new laundry needs.

Soon it was little splats of goo that started to slide up into the sky, and then it was larger creatures, more than the spent remains of exploded monsters, the little mini T-Rexes, then it was the giant lower torso of the big one, flying up into the sky, just about the moment that the portal closed, the tail got stuck, then sucked through like wet pasta, and the portal closed.

All the remaining goo, which was little more than street slag now fell to the earth, and it was over.

Fred pulled up next to Walter and Jen. “Hop in.”

They got in the back, Fred, and Moxie in the front.

“You think they made it?”

“I hope so,” said Moxie.

“He must have made it,” said Fred. “They must have.”

They drove off without a real direction. The city was renewing itself, waking from its nightmare.

They drove to Michael’s office and found that they couldn’t get inside. The locks seemed to be melted together by magic, so they drove off to where the burger joint had once been and parked there. They looked up into the darkening sky and laid out in the parking lot looking up at the sky. The stars were coming out, and they watched as airplanes started flying over again, and listened and watched as cars started to fill the road again.

Familiar sounds.

“What will we do now?” asked Walter.

“What do you want to do,” said Jen.

“I want another restaurant.”

“What, right here?”

“Why not?”

“It won’t be like before.”

“No, it’ll be better.”

“Can we do that?”

“Why not, we’ve got plenty in savings, it doesn’t cost that much to run the place.”

Moxie and Fred stood up and brushed themselves off. “We’ll help.”

Walter and Jen looked over at them. “You want to?”

“At least for a while. Without Moxie’s wrist band we can’t travel, and I’m not leaving her behind. At least until we can catch a lift off-world.”

“Okay then,” said Jen, “You’re hired.”

Walter watched the sky. “I wonder where they are.”

“No telling,” said Jen.

Moxie looked worried.

Fred looked grim.

They laid there all night, watching the sky, waiting, hoping, praying, and nothing happened. They brushed themselves off, wiped the dew from their eyes and ambled off to find a place they could score some breakfast, and find some news.

They looked around, and found a little breakfast place, and stumbled into it. They had no idea how they looked, like refugees from a freak tornado, which is how pretty much everyone else looked.

Upon the television screen, a reporter was covering a big story out in the field, standing with a microphone in hand and the van somewhere in the shot, right outside of the building they were in.

They doubled back to look out at the van and could see the buildings all around them were either decimated or torn apart. They looked up at the screen with one eye to the window to see if the reporter was packing up yet.

On the screen, the reporter looked up with grim eyes and a solemn expression.

“It seems that Atlanta has been the hardest hit by this series of tornadoes. Businesses are destroyed, and lives have been ruined, but one thing is sure, the people of Atlanta have prevailed. Of all the damage we’ve found, and the countless items of property that have been destroyed, there have been no fatalities, and as far as we can tell no one is missing. A  local scientific lab has been leveled by the recent tornadoes, but it’s mostly businesses that have suffered. This is Robin Parker, in Atlanta.”

The news switched over to a couple of pundits arguing over the next presidential election. People lost interest, and the television was switched to cartoons instead.

Simon and Michael sat up in the alien dimension, blue grasses, and hills all around them. Had they been screaming? Michael couldn’t tell.

“We’re here again, aren’t we?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Michael. He pushed himself up and looked around. The scarred, pock-marked sky was gone. It was starting to get a little lighter.

He jumped upon a rock and looked around. The beasts were off in the distance, working their way through the fields, eating the strange grasses and lumbering on their way. Even further off in the distance, several of the sky grazers were loping along, snaking their long schnozzes down to the surface to feed on various kinds of flowers.

The sun was rising.

Michael realized he was standing near the same portal projector he had been near the last time, but a long time seemed to have passed here, like years. It was possible that barring the ivy that had started to crawl through it that this was just like any other rock in the field. A moment or two longer and in the light it looked even more like a rock, in fact, with the sun shining on it, the ivy seemed to have disappeared and what was standing before them was nothing more than a rock. He looked off to the creatures, they still looked the same to him, but somehow distant or in another way broken from their rampages on Earth.

“Probably because they were projections into our universe, some kind of worst-case scenario machine that injected the strange and unusual into our world, they probably didn’t remember their escapades there. Probably not the same creatures entirely anyway,” said Michael.

“Probably.”

“Shut up.”

Upon the hill, standing there as if nothing had happened, was their leader. He stood tall, and in no way struck by his desire to cross over into our dimension. Simon noticed him too, and they walked up the hill to meet him. When they arrived, they stood no higher than the great warrior’s knees.

“You are welcome here, Michael David Christopher, the man with three first names.”

“Thank you, sir. All’s well then?”

“Indeed. I see you’ve been by the rock.”

“Yes, I have. It’s just a rock then now, is it?”

“Yes, just a rock. As long as it remains daytime.”

“What happens to it at night?”

“It brings terrible things into our world. It haunts us, it also enchants us, and bends us to its will from time to time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We stay here to defend it. Occasionally I think we cross the line, though we can sometimes barely remember it, and sometimes it takes a few of us with it. I suspect that has happened again tonight, yes?”

“It has.”

“Is all well?”

“It is. Except… He looked over at Simon. My friend here seems to have been affected by the last cross over.”

“Is this true?” He turned to face Simon.

“Yes, sir. The blast, the one that connected our worlds. It changed me.”

“I believe it has. It’s shown you a part of your inner self, has it not?”

“I think so. I can transform.” He did so, into the tall, green-gray skinned creature with the wild hair. “I feel like some kind of troll or something. I can heal fast, regenerate if you will, and I have amazing strength and senses.”

“Has it helped you?”

“I think it has, I’m just not sure what to do with myself.”

“We cannot take it away, you know that. You are changed for life.”

“I figured as much.”

“And you do not wish to change? To return to your normal state for good?”

“No. I’ve seen what’s inside of me, and I think I could benefit the world.”

“Then you should go and use your gifts in this way. And what about you, a man with three first names, what do you desire?”

“I think all I’m interested in now is a good drink, a cheeseburger in my favorite burger joint, and an evening relaxing with my friends.”

“I don’t think you can quite achieve all those goals.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“How do you intend to return home?”

Michael held up Moxie’s wrist band. “This.”

The tall warrior looked at the little device.

“Walter rigged these things years ago to only return to Earth. I suppose it was a cheap way to keep her coming back all the time.”

“You think it’s about time to reverse that?”

“I think so, just after using it one last time to return myself.”

“I see.”

“What about him?” The warrior gestured to Simon. “He may not return with that. It only carries one, correct?”

“That’s true. I was planning on giving it to him anyway.”

Michael pulled off the cuff and held it out to Simon.

“No, Michael, you use that.”

Michael held it out again, but Simon refused.

“There is another way, said the tall warrior. We walk between dimensions frequently, and he his now part of us after the blast. We could teach him.”

“You could? There’s more to this than speed and strength?”

“Far more. We can teach you to walk between the dimensions, and you may one day make it back to Earth if you search, but you’ll have to take the long way around. Are you interested?”

Simon didn’t even think to look back.

He assumed his troll-like form and stepped forward.

“Michael?”

“Mike.”

They shook hands. Michael nodded to both of them, adjusted his hat, and touched the button on the wristband, and faded away with a wave.

On Earth Walter, Jen, Fred, and Moxie were sitting in a booth in a small Mexican restaurant. They had ordered enchiladas and tacos and were dipping into a pool of salsa and another of queso dip with their chips. Above them, a television blared with local news.

“Can you believe this?” said Walter, “They’re calling it a load of tornadoes. Useless.”

“What else did you think they were going to say,” said Jen. “You think they’re going to go for the whole rubber monster theory?”

“I know, it’s just silly though.”

“What are you going to do,” asked Moxie?

“You know what we’re going to do, we’re going to build another restaurant. I captained ships all across the galaxy. There’s nothing I like better than flipping burgers and dipping french fries. Its stupid, and I don’t care.”

“No it’s not,” said Jen. “It’s what you love.”

“Gonna miss my old ship though. Always thought of expanding it someday, all it would take is a little programming to change the walls and add some more seats. Suppose I’d have to do that sometime during the night.”

“I suppose.”

“Gone, cleanly gone, sucked into the vortex. Oh, I know. I want my ship back, it was a great little ship.”

“I know, I loved it,” said Jen. She turned to Fred and Moxie. “Are you two going to help us?”

“Yeah, we’re staying on,” said Fred.

“As long as we can,” said Moxie.

They watched the news coverage knowing they were the only ones alive who could remember that it wasn’t just a line of tornadoes, and ate their chips, waiting for their tacos.

“Walter, have you ever thought about getting off-world again, maybe starting up a burger joint in space?” Moxie twirled the straw in her soda.

“You know Moxie, I’ve thought about that so many times, and yeah, I might eventually think about getting off-world again, but I think it would just be for a vacation. For all it’s dullness, all the action takes place on Earth. Everybody comes here. It’s got to be the blindest planet, and the most popular one to visit. It’s like living in the Aspen, Colorado of the universe. On Earth, you have it all. There are beaches, and snow, there’s entertainment and music of all kinds, undead walk and terrorize the planet while aliens visit for the weekend, and the movies are beyond comparison. Where would you rather live? Out in space, slogging it up and down the system? Romantic, yes, but no, this is where it is.”

“Now Walter.”

“What?”

“We were just like them once, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember. I won’t say it’s all bad,” said Walter. “There are ups and downs though, and after you’ve been traveling up and down the space-ways for a couple or ten years you start to like the idea of sticking somewhere for a while. Then again, you are still pretty young.”

Michael arrived in the bathroom of the little Mexican restaurant and pulled the wristband from his wrist. He stepped out and saw them, but they didn’t see him. He slipped into the booth next to them and listened for a while. Soon a waiter came by with a basket of chips for his table. He accepted them with a thank you, and hung out for a moment, listening.

“I just love the space travel though. Fred and I, we love getting out there and seeing the galaxy. I know you are ready to stay on Earth, but we’re not. We’ll stay but we are always going to want to get out there again.”

“Well, you can’t get out there without this then, can you?”

Michael stepped up and pulled a chair up to the end of the booth, and set Moxie’s wristband down in front of her.

She grabbed his neck and hugged him hard.

“Here give me that.”

He snatched up the wrist band again. “And yours too Fred. It’s about time I fixed these.”

He touched their screens and slid his fingers across them. They made little beeping sounds. “Here you go. I took the loop off for good.”

They put them back on.

“Loop?” asked Moxie.

“Hey, you kept my blood so you could track me, right?”

She agreed, “Yes…”

“Well, I looped your wristbands years ago to keep you coming back to Earth once in a while. I think Walter tried to show you how to turn it off, but I hid another one in there. Forgive me? ”

“I will.”

Fred shook his head.

“Now I’m buying dinner.”

The waiter was over a moment later, and Michael added a heaping plate of fajitas to the order and another round of drinks for everyone.

When they were done, they went out into the parking lot, and Fred and Moxie raised their wrist bands up and synchronized them together.

“We’re off.”

Michael gave them both hugs.

They hit the button and were sucked backward through a random wormhole in space.

“Where have they gone?” asked Walter.

“There’s no telling.”

“Will they be back?” asked Jen.

“Oh yeah. Maybe not right away like before, but they’ve got the bug. They’ll be around.”

Michael saw his car in the lot.

“Hey, I thought I’d lost this in the fight.”

“Yeah, we kept it for you, thought you’d want it back.”

“Yeah,” he opened the door and was about to slip in. “I saw the restaurant, on the other side.”

“What happened to it?”

“Destroyed. Torn to pieces like you would not believe. There was glass everywhere. I think the land on the other side must have liked it though because it started to pull it under the grass right away.”

Walter hung his head. Jen took him by the arm. “Come on, big guy, let’s get out of here.”

“I could help though,” said Michael.

“What?” Jen turned to face him.

“I think we might have another one, maybe not the same model or anything, but possible, another ship from your world might be at the facility in New Mexico. Would you like to take a look? I’m sure the President will sign the order for me to give you one if it’s out there in the impound.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure.”

They got into the flying car, and Michael put the top down. He cranked the engine and soared into the sky, headed for the setting sun.

A Victorian apartment interior, dimly lit by candlelight. A rat detective and a monocled frog in a top hat prepare bags of salt and holy water. A massive owl perches on the windowsill, its feathers ruffled. Outside, through the fogged window, shadowy figures with glowing eyes lurk in the streets.

Shadow Street Chapter 9

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

We scrambled down the road. It looks as though everyone on the street but us has a tentacle hanging from a nostril, ear, or mouth. They stagger about, but some of them are getting a grip and walking upright.

Mr. Curtis shoves the key into our apartment on shadow street and we practically fall in, locking the door behind us.

“The kitchen!” said Mr. Curtis.

“Salt!” I said, scrambling around behind him.

“That will be enough, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Constellation. She turned, wearing a long black dress, and with tentacles pouring from her mouth, nose, and ears, she opened her mouth wide enough for her head to appear to split open so the creature inside could get both eyes out, and use its mouth, though it continued speaking with her voice.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind.”

She whipped out a tentacle and stopped me from making the kitchen. Beak or no, she smiled a weak, prim smile at me. “I want you to know it’s nothing personal. The invasion is in full swing, and from here there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Nothing?” said Mr. Curtis. “I’ve never known nothing I couldn’t do something about.” He grinned and shot his tongue past her into the kitchen, where a small salt shaker sat by the tea tray.

“You!” she said, then whipped it away from him, and right towards me. His smile faltered, but only for a second, and while I was watching the salt shaker fly at me in slow-motion, spinning like a top and spreading salt everywhere on the parlor floor, I watched him jump on her head and pull her skirt back and cover her head.

I caught it.

“Good man!”

The shaker had plenty left in it, so I started shaking, while Mr. Curtis started hitting the tentacles coming from Mrs. Constellation that were still visible with drops of holy water.

The creature had burns on its skin. It hissed and pulled back with each drop.

Again, it hissed.

“No!”

“Invasion? What invasion?”

“We’re coming!”

“Looks like you’re already here.”

Drop. Hiss. It shrank back from him. I started salting my way up the stairs.

“Come on now.”

“Through the food. Germinating in the bread. We traveled the stars for eons. Ages and ages.”

“Why not ask for help?”

“We need hosts to…”

“To?”

“To grow. You’re just a child, aren’t you?”

Mrs. Constellation fell to her knees.

“Sorry, need her back before she dies.”

“No, don’t..”

He poured a measure of holy water over her.

Mrs. Constellation fell to the floor, writhing in agony. She clutched her throat, screamed, and then relaxed as the creature escaped from her mouth and ran for the door.

It skittered through the salt, limping in its tentacles with pain before it got to the door, where Mr. Curtis opened it, and let it out.

He croaked and lashed his tongue up to straighten his hat.

“You let it go.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Mrs. Constellation. I wanted it out of here long enough to revive her.”

She lay still on the floor.

“Come on, frog, she’s dead!”

He held up a finger. “Bullfrog.”

“Right. She’s dead, face it. The whole town is about to go under now. Look outside, they are everywhere.”

“True, but she’s not dead.”

“Of course she is. There’s the corpse!”

“Have you checked her pulse, Doctor?”

“No, I, uh.”

“Go on, check her.”

I reached down, mostly watching my bullfrog friend make sure a tentacle didn’t fall from his mouth. Her pulse was there. I checked it again.

“She is alive.”

“Thank you, Dr. James.”

“Help me.”

We picked her up and put her on the chaise. She opened her eyes, and they were wild. “You boys have no right. I’m going to kill you both!”

She sat up on her elbows and continued to fuss.

“You are never bringing me such a terrible breakfast ever again, and you, Dr. James, I need you to quit spreading the bloody salt all over the place. I’ve got a mind to take you out back and hog…”

“I love you too, Mrs. Constellation. You’re back to normal. I’m glad.”

“Back to… I went nowhere. I’m going to…”

Mr. Curtis pulled back the curtains in the front window.

“Hey, I never leave those…”

“I know,” I said, and led her forward to see outside.

“Down the street, that’s Phil Coleson from the farmer’s market. What’s that coming out of his nose, spaghetti?”

She looked up the street, “Martha Wright. Why is she stumbling around? Her mouth!” More noodles were dangling there.

“The salt?”

“They can’t cross it.”

The frog held up one of his empty flasks.

“Holy water?”

“Yup. Evicts them pretty much on the spot.”

She sat down at her writing desk. She reached out, grabbed a fountain pen and got it going, grabbed a piece of velvety stationery, and started barking.

“Where from?”

“Under The bakery.”

“How?”

“They get into the bread dough.”

“And there?”

“They germinate or develop somewhat.”

“Until?”

“They get eaten.”

“We think so. They get into the digestive system and then…”

“They take over, start driving.”

“Animal bodies.”

“What’s the point?”

“Invasion?”

“That’s stupid. They look like what, squid?”

“Little yellow octopuses.”

“Only have five tentacles, though.”

“Except the big one they use in fights. They keep one down their throats.”

“Right.”

“We need to get into that bakery again,” said Mrs. Constellation. “Undetected. Unnoticed. Without getting caught.”

“Yes, Mrs. Constellation?”

“Then we need to get the salt into the…”

“Around the tank and into the tunnels.”

“And the holy water?”

“Into the dough.”

“Into all the dough.”

“When the holy water is in their system?”

“Gets ugly. Creature escapes, usually through the mouth.”

“Breakfast is going to be ugly.”

“You know it is.”

“Have we any more salt?”

“There’s a box in the kitchen.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“Let’s get our stuff together.”

“Arthur?”

“We’ll see. Not sure he’d help us.”

Mrs. Constellation slept on the couch rather than go home, which did not surprise me. We had decided our best shot was to go by midnight, and I was the only one who could not sleep. We worked for a further hour on plans and crazy schemes, trying to figure out the best way to get that holy water into the creature’s food supply. Not interested in killing them outright, we were detectives, not superheroes, but merely to free those we knew from them and make statements. Assuming we weren’t dead in the morning anyway, maybe we could make a difference.

I’d sent Arthur a message, with no way of knowing it got to him, telling him where we’d like him to meet us at midnight. We could do it without him, but his help might make things smoother.

Mrs. Constellation helped us get our gear together, fresh suits, because fresh suits, shoulder bags to carry salt, and holy water. It turned out we had two boxes in the townhouse. If I found more at the bakery, I’d take that too.

Mr. Curtis sent another note to Argus, his cab driver. We would need a good and fast getaway if I was right. No idea if he got that message, either.

Mr. Curtis always kept a network of younger frogs to help him gather information. He called them the tadpoles. They seemed clean. I just hope the dog or the owl doesn’t eat them.

Mr. Curtis went to his room after that. Soon I heard his regular chanting. Each night he meditates. He usually talked to himself tonight about our business kicking off and being more successful than it was. He was carefully going over the plan, over and over, including waking up at a proper time, and everyone getting their messages well and on time.

After that he passed out on his desk, snoring loudly, his tongue lay loosely at his side in the inkwell, and one of his knees was up, pointed into the air. He remained fully dressed and ready to go but otherwise looked as relaxed as possible. One of his arms lay curled around his magic hat.

After checking on him, I returned to my room across the hall from his. It was quiet, aside from the random scrapings of the possessed people out learning how to drive their bodies out there on the streets.

Light snow hit my window, and I kept little more light than a single candle for journaling, which I did most nights. Most nights, I was usually occupied with thinking over our cases and documenting them. I’m not sure why anyone would be interested, but then again, this one…

I put my pen down and took a drink of tea. Both Mr. Curtis and I laced everything we drank or ate now with little drops of holy water.

When someone tapped on my windowsill, I put the glass down.

I went to the window, waving my candle a little too much, and opened it. I could see owl talons.

“Fool!” said Arthur. “What are you coming out early for?”

“But you scratched on the…”

“I did not. Is the frog ready?”

“He will be.”

“And you?”

“I haven’t slept since the war, at least rarely enough to talk about. I don’t even keep a bed in my apartment.”

The owl leaned for a quick look. “Nice plush chair.”

“It’s good for sleeping when I can get some.”

“Night owl like me?”

“Good time to write.”

“I love you, Dr. James. You’re stupid.”

“I say.”

“You do?”

“Look, I’m in love with the night, but after what I’ve seen lately…”

“Experienced…”

“Right. It’s all over the place. Never thought I’d be helping anyone do anything like this.”

“It’s good to know you will tell us.”

“Of course, I will. I like it here in town, and I don’t like calamari. “

“Arthur does that mean…”

“No, I don’t hunt the likes of you, Dr. James. I only hunt the dumb, and I mean people that are still animals, not the intelligent.”

“It’s almost time.

“Get suited up.”

I closed the window, left, took my candle with me, and opened his door again.

“Mr. Curtis?” He was right in my face, hat on his head, and eying me through his monocle.

“Is it time now?” He had me by the lapels of my jacket and swung me around. I backed up to a dart board he commonly used for practicing his knife throwing.

“What? Yes.” He threw a knife. It landed by my left hand, pinning my jacket. “It’s time to get ready.” He threw another. It came close to my head. Where was he getting them from?

I quickly detached my wrist and got down from his target.

“Good goose then, Let’s get going,” he said, putting another one into the practice target, in the middle.

“That was a good one.” He took the lead and headed downstairs. “Mrs. Constellation, we’re ready.”

She quickly saddled him with the holy water, two gigantic bags of little bottles that clanked. She stuffed them with cotton. They still clanked, it just wasn’t obnoxious. For me, two-shoulder bags full of salt. It was a combination, of rock salt, some kosher, and some table salt.

“Nice.” I put some on my tongue.

“Still not possessed?” said Mr. Curtis.

“Seems like it.”

“Good then, do me.”

I held out some salt. He licked it off my hand and thought for a second. “Me neither?”

“No, I suppose not. The owl’s upstairs.”

“Let’s go.”

“Get out of here, you two idiots.”

"A colossal, glowing creature climbs Stone Mountain as a futuristic diner-airship launches a missile. A flying car speeds toward the battle while trapped figures struggle inside the monster’s translucent form."

The Man With Three First Names, Chapter 11

The Man With Three First Names
Rabbits leap through time,
Portals hum with shifting fate,
Night and day now split.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.

The monster stomped through the city. It used the buildings for support, holding onto them as it continued to grow. Never meant to be in this world, its body kept trying to adjust and change, to auto-evolve until it matched what it needed to live here. Its skin had almost become opaque. The shadows of Simon and Michael were dim, along with the other people who were still alive inside of it. It stomped along, destroying cars and other property on its way.

As it looked around, it could see less and less of its native world, not that it would fit in its present form on that side either. It plowed through a little business district and climbed the buildings so that it could see.

Police helicopters buzzed around it like angry moths, and it knocked them away just as such. They called out to it with loudspeakers but it didn’t understand the language. Most of that part of its brain had already been eaten away, and there was nothing much left but the scream of terror and delight in destruction. It was an abomination, that it also knew. All it had left was to find somewhere that it could relax. Rampaging around the city was making it frustrated and upset, and the cars stung its feet.

It looked around for the bluegrasses of its homeworld, for the grazers with their long tusks, for the swoopers with their long nostrils from the sky, but it could see none of them, only the gray of the city, and the mist of destroyed water mains, and the rubble that it was leaving behind. It began to run. This broke up the ground a little more than it liked. Its feet were strong, but fundamentally they were pretty soft, and they seemed to splat and spread out more than was comfortable as it gathered up speed. It jumped from a building where it could see a nearby lake and made for it.

It stomped down the highway, and out into the countryside, glad for the softer earth and the ability to push through the trees and to put its feet on dirt and mud, and made for the lake.

The mist was just clearing here, people were out on their boats, and when the creature came up through the fog there was a panic. Boats went every which way. People jumped out of them and attempted to swim away, people lost fish and threw their poles into the water, and others just stood there and watched as the creature came up.

It jumped into the lake, splashing water in all directions and causing a small wave to smack a nearby bait shop, destroying its facade. It ducked into the water, up to its neck, and trudged along. It snorted water through its nose and relaxed for the first time since it had arrived. Finally, it was somewhere that it made sense to be. It reached forward and swam, taking joy in scaring the locals who were getting the hell out of the water as fast as they could now.

It took to the water, submerging, and swam through the dark lake, generating its own glow as it went. It thrust through the water, and took in a bunch of fish, swallowing them down, and then came into a more shallow area of the lake, and popped its head up, right next to a boat full of people drinking beer and eating hot dogs. Those people went over the side in a hurry as the creature crushed the boat in its teeth, then released it to sink into the water on its own. It watched as the terrified people scrambled away from it, half swimming, half flailing, and splashing. He pushed passed them, letting the people go. He thought of eating one of them but decided he didn’t care enough.

He climbed out of the water. It poured off him. A beach full of bathers were screaming for their lives and jumped up to stand on top of a little shrimp and fries shack that rented floats, flippers and masks. The shack buckled beneath them, cracked and fell apart as the creature ran by, and onto a small playground, where it was surrounded by children who simultaneously pointed up into the sky and said “Monster!”

They were not afraid of it. They were, in fact, compelled to attack, and they jumped up on the beast and began to climb up it, stuffing their hands through its jelly-like body, and taking big chunks from its flesh and just eating it like it was so much lemon-lime Jell-o.

They climbed up, and the creature began to writhe and bellow. It could feel its legs being destroyed by the children. They were tearing him apart, but they were getting full, and sleepy, and sliding off the creature and back into the playground or climbing to his head and jumping out for the lake like he was a gigantic, living, rubber diving board.

It could feel one of its legs was almost chewed through, and it kind of limped from the playground in a rage. As they fell, the children grabbed huge chunks of the creature’s flesh and used them to bounce when they hit the ground. No one told them to do this or that it would work, but they did it anyway, and it worked for them.

The creature staggered off, and looked before it at the towering rock of Stone Mountain near Atlanta, and made for it. It rampaged down the road in search of the rock, drawn to it by its sheer size. It bounded through the parking lot, cars screeching and getting out of the way. It bounded over a large fancy palisade, and down through the grass toward the mountain, and jumped up the side, where it began to slither up, crawling up beyond the great civil war carving and pulled its way to the top.

On the other side of the country, in a bunker beneath the desert, someone said: “Okay, Janson, bring him on in, we’re on a time limit here.”

“Is it time Darren?”

“Yep, now, bring him in.”

Janson walked into the little room. It was darkish but was reminiscent of an operating theatre. Janson pulled down a box from the left-hand side of the room and began to rummage through it. He brought out a left leg, a vaguely presidential left leg at that, and put it on the table. Darren began at once to work on the limb, bringing out a small electrical tool with which he started to activate the leg.

From the box, Janson pulled out another leg, and then hauled out the torso. Everything was already covered in clothing, the President’s favorite suit, and shoes.

Darren continued to work the circuits and to hook everything together. The legs started to work, moving around just a little bit.

Janson brought out the arms, and Darren hooked them together while a robotic arm came down from the ceiling and started to sew his clothes together as they continued their work.

“Give me the head, come on now,” said Darren.

Janson looked through the box and pulled out the head. It was a perfect replica of the original President, who had been prone to the assassination, but who had otherwise served well over the years, and placed it on the table.

Janson activated the servos and hooked the neck to the head, and touched a switch behind its ear.

The eyes opened in a flash, and the President sat up in a single jerk of motion, his eyes glazed over, peering into nothing. It looked like his eyes were little monitors in the dark, glowing with a fierce green, and you could tell that he was rebooting.

The President said “Presidential six-point-oh point three speaking. Downloading the latest software patch.” A little progress bar in his eyes filled from one side to the other.

“I always hate this part,” said Darren.  “I always wonder if he’s going to have enough hard disk space the next time we activate one.”

“Darren, why don’t we go ahead and put the next one together so we can just turn him on next time?”

“Don’t ask so many questions.”

They watched as the robotic leader of the free world continued to twitch his head and download new upgrades one after the other. In a moment, his eyes cleared, and he looked up.

“Last thing I remember we were attacking a large monster. What happened?”

“We’re not prepared to debrief you, sir, we’ll get you to a conference room where you can plug in and get the last few memories. They should have bounced off the satellite by now.”

They took him into another room and handed him what looked like a small red audio player. He placed the earphones in his ears, turned it on and laid back on a small reclining chair to soak in the last few minutes of his ship going down.

He sat up.

Gentlemen, get me to the command center. “I may have to call a full air strike on Atlanta, not that it’ll do any good. I want to see where the creature is now.”

He walked down the hall with them, and into a small war room staffed with techs capable of keeping the equipment running, and looked down at the map, it was much like the table in his command ship.

“Where is it now?”

One of the screens tracked it down to Stone Mountain on the map and focused it down to show the creature, who looked pretty battered by now, sitting on top of the giant rock.

“Call my ship.”

“Sir, your ship went down in the fight.”

“My other ship.”

They all stood back from him. They didn’t like that one.

“But that one hasn’t been fully tested.”

“Do you have a better idea of how to get me back to the other side of the country?”

“Sir, it’s not that. It’s just that the radiation sir.”

“I can take the radiation, don’t you worry about that.”

“But what about the pilots?”

“Easy,” said the President with a grin, activate two more of me, and download the piloting program into them.

“What?”

“Do it, I need to get back out to Atlanta as quick as I can.”

“Yes, sir.”

Two more presidents were assembled while the current version went into the hangar to his craft. It was a large saucer-shaped ship, recently discovered in a crater somewhere in Brazil. The President looked out at it and smiled. He’d wanted a chance to pilot this thing for a while. With three of him, he just might manage it.

A door slid open and two more of him, dressed this time in flight jumpsuits, stepped forward.

They smiled at each other and said in unison. “You about ready to get this baby in the air? Yep. Let’s go.” It was like listening to himself in stereo.

Darren shook his head. They hadn’t had more than one of them active for a while and it always creeped him out to hear them talk in unison like that.

They climbed aboard the ship, and everyone cleared the flight deck.

The ship began to spin, and in just a moment it was through the roof and on out into the night sky, zooming for Atlanta.

It zoomed through Texas, skidded through Oklahoma, dived through Louisiana, and then went on through Mississippi and Alabama. They could see the creature on the sensors in the distance jumping up and down on the peak of Stone Mountain.

When they’d landed outside of Jen and Walter’s dinner, they were upside down, lying on their backs, with their arms pointing into the air at the building above them, surrounded in fog, with an alien moon behind it. They were in the parking lot, and they knew what that might mean.

Fred and Moxie jumped up, and they could see it, the restaurant was just a few hundred feet away from them, but the parking lot was full of great tusked creatures, swinging their heads around and bumping into them.

Fred climbed the tusks of one of the creatures, and then pulled his way onto its head by grasping big handfuls of dark fur and hoisting himself up.

Moxie yelled, but it wasn’t a damsel in distress sort of thing. Ruffled by one of the creatures, she yelled back at it. Her cry was more of an assertive tone with the beast in question. She could almost hear herself saying “Bad Dog!”

She called one of them out, shaking a finger at it, and then climbed up on its back without a further question. She had no idea how she was managing to do this but didn’t question it.

“How’d you do that?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Come on!”

They dug in with their fists, full of fur and kneed the beasts until they moved over near the door. With everything swimming flying and exploding around them, they hopped off and made for the door, rolling through it, and into the diner.

“Moxie, Fred, you guys are back,” said Walter.

“Where’s Michael and Simon?” asked Jen.

“They’re in trouble, we’ve got to help them.”

“Where are they?”

“We’re not sure anymore, but Moxie’s got a tracer on Michael.”

“Oh have you now,” said Jen.

“Will you drop it, Fred?”

Fred laughed at her and kissed her. “Well, you do.”

“Come on then,” said Walter. “Fred, I’m going to need your help up top to get this old bucket running. Moxie, can you help Jen there with the navigator?”

Both of them nodded.

“Come on Fred,” said Walter. They walked back through the swinging door from the kitchen area behind the bar and into the hold of a working freighter.

“I didn’t know you had all this back here.”

“Well, that’s why we don’t let a lot of people back here, right? This way.”

They went down a little corridor and stepped onto a circular plate that lifted them up through a sliding hatchway in the ceiling and out onto the roof.

“What are we up here for?”

Fred was looking around. It looked like a normal roof, there was an air conditioner and various vents and things. It looked like a normal roof.

“Two things,” said Walter. “One, we’re disconnecting the cable, and two, we’ve got to fire up the engines.” He pointed over to the air conditioning unit.

“What this old AC unit?”

“Look again.”

Walter went to the edge of the roof, where a single cable connected the building to the outside world, and cut it off with a huge pair of limb loppers he’d brought with him while Fred went over to look at the AC unit. When he got close to it, he heard a beep beep, and it opened up. Little panels slid backward and forwards and disappeared into the roof. Before him was a working hyperdrive, and hover lift unit, starting to spin to life for the first time in about five years.

He turned to see Walter with a little key fob. He’d just hit the switch to open it all up.

“Cool.”

They opened the side of the engine and began to work. It all looked like it was in working order, there was just a lot of prep work to do to get her flying again. They stopped thinking about it and dived right in. Fred took every direction from Walter and followed his instructions as best he could. When you work for a year and a half at a space station pumping gas and doing minor fixes in the star garage, you can do anything like this. He was only a little bit rusty.

Below them, Jen and Moxie were hard at work.

“You’ve got a tracer on Michael do you?”

“Yes.” She handed it over, it was a little transceiver with a small dot on it, blinking on a map.

“Looks like he’s on Stone Mountain. Interesting.”

Jen took the tracer and dropped it down into a crack between the waffle irons and the griddle, and the griddle turned over to reveal a tracing program and screen. The lights dimmed for a second and every surface in the whole place turned over to reveal some kind of instrument panel.

In the back, an old man, still sipping on a cup of coffee, cold bacon was forgotten before he opened his eyes and started to look around. The whole place seemed to be alive.

“Oh Shit, Cal,” said Jen.

She went to him.

“Cal honey, come on, we’re closing for the night.”

“But you never close,” he said. He’d been spiking his coffee long enough now he wasn’t sure if anyone else could see all the instrument panels and lights but him.

“Come on now, gotta go.”

He got up and allowed Jen to walk him to the door.

“Just trying to finish my coffee.”

“Here, I’ll get you a to-go cup dear.”

She handed him a full cup of coffee in a plastic cup, made just the way he liked it.

“Who are you?” he said.

“You know my dear, I’m Jen. You’ve been buying coffee from me for four years now. Come on, get out, we’re closing up for the night.”

He toddled out into the parking lot and saw the light stream up from the rooftop and Fred and Walter lowering back into the restaurant, and the spinning blaze of lights now on the top of the place where the air conditioner had been.

“Wait,” said Fred, “What about Michael’s car? Have you got a garage back here?”

“Oh yeah,” said Walter.

“I’ll go out and get it.”

Cal watched, dumbfounded as Fred came out of the building, and waved, “Hi,” and got into the flying car and revved it up, tucked the wheels into the car in the floating position, and drove it around the building to the back where he brought it inside the restaurant and parked it.

Cal sat down on the hood of another car and then watched as the whole building broke from the ground and flew into the sky, two slender wings now protruding from the sides.

Cal looked next to him, at the tusked creature chewing up the ground, and downed his entire cup of coffee in one, and then proceeded to walk off home, ignoring all the animals and interesting creatures he saw along the way. Above him, his favorite restaurant had just floated away. He would never drink again. He threw the cup away.

In the belly of the beast, sat Simon and Michael. “Any matches?” asked Michael.

Simon laughed. “No, don’t smoke.”

The people around them had tired of trying to hack their way out of the creature’s belly. It wasn’t suffocating in there, but to claw your way out, the gelatin belly of the beast would just grow back stronger as you struggled.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Simon.

Michael was sitting, as comfortably as he could. He still had his hat on, which kept getting covered in goo, but his coat was off now.

“I’m thinking about our rescue.”

“What?”

“I’m imagining it, our rescue. I’m imagining how we get rescued. Somehow we’ve got to rely on Fred and Moxie, they’re all we have left.”

“What about Jen and Walter?”

“I suppose that’s a possibility. They might be involved.”

“So what happens?”

“I’m not sure but it needs to be something bloody big. We’ve got to get out of this guy as fast as we can. Going to be major.”

“Like what?”

“I’m hoping that either they bring the restaurant, or Fred brings my car.”

“The Restaurant?”

“Oh yeah, it’s a total space ship, you know that right?”

“Hey, I’m still getting used to being able to change into a ravening troll creature, remember?”

“That’s right. I’ve forgotten how little time has passed. It’s only been a couple of days, right?”

“Something like that.”

They sat there in the goo, thinking about life while Jen and Walter sped their way to Stone Mountain with Moxie and Fred plastered to the front windows of the diner as they flew across the city.

They passed Midtown, and downtown, and off to the East, towards the giant granite rock.

“So, said Simon, do you think we’ll make it?”

Outside, the creature writhed and danced at the top of the mountain, destroying the entrance to the gondola, and the front of a small arcade and gift shop.

Someone who had been running up the mountain saw the creature and turned right back around again. Another group who saw it arrive didn’t know whether to run or just gape at the sight of it.

It climbed to the top of the gift shop and bellowed, screaming at the sky, and brought its fists down destroying the roof. The creature fell in and then began to wade through the debris of ceiling tiles and insulation.

Inside the monster’s belly, they held on for dear life. It was a lot like being in a child’s playground at a fast-food chain restaurant, lost in the big pool of colored plastic balls, even the others trapped in there with them were starting to find the humor in bouncing around and off the walls. They’d all thrown up at one point or another by now, and there was nothing left to do but laugh.

The creature jumped out of the remains of the gift shop, covered in t-shirts and coffee mugs hanging from its teeth, and those inside took a tumble as it bounded for the arcade and bashed it’s way into it, sending teens and forty-somethings on the Pac-Man machines through the doors and out onto the surface of the mountain.

Walter sat in a captain’s chair that had come up out of the restaurant floor. Jen sat in a similar one. They were more like the kind of easy chairs you see on a motor home than anything else.

“There he is,” said Walter.

Before them they could see it, jumping up and down on the surface of the Granite dome.

“Moxie, Fred, you know what to do, right?”

They nodded and headed for the back. Moxie got behind the wheel of Michael’s car, and as soon as they were buckled in, the floor dropped out below them and they flew out of the back of the little diner, flying through the sky and zoomed off, looking for a lower angle of approach.

“Jen,” said Walter, “you know what we need to do now?”

“Yep. We’ve got to get them out of there.”

“Good, then let’s drop it.”

She flicked the switch and a missile lowered from the bottom of the little flying diner.

She flipped another switch to arm it.

Red lights blinked on the missile.

She flicked another switch and it cut loose from the bottom and zoomed off ahead of them towards the big rubber monster.

“I hope they hold on tight,” said Jen.

The missile sped out, targeting the monster. They were still a good ways off, mere moments from impact.

Inside the monster, Michael opened his eyes. “They’re here.”

Simon looked around and transformed in anticipation.

“Almost…”

“Duck         !”

Inside a grand, dimly lit cathedral, towering stained-glass windows cast eerie red and blue light over the stone floor. A massive owl, Arthur, lies weakened, partially consumed by writhing yellow tentacles. A rat detective and a monocled frog in a top hat stand over him, preparing to purge the parasite.

Shadow Street Chapter 8

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

Up we went, grabbed and yanked into the sky. Clutched around our dangling arms and legs were the strong talons of an enormous beast. It flew silently. I could see brown and white in the feathers. I can’t otherwise see anything. Feathers are on my face. Those silent soaring wings. Mr. Curtis’s legs dangled below me as I watched our street fall away from us and the smoky city leave us behind.

They dropped us. I assumed it was to our deaths. I thought for sure that Mr. Curtis’s legs next to me were lifeless. We landed roughly on a tiled rooftop and rolled.

Mr. Curtis’s hat flopped by. I picked it up and sat up, then turned around quickly as a shadow crossed over me.

“What? Who?”

“It is I.”

It was Arthur, the owl.

Mr. Curtis stood up next to me and took his hat. I gave it to him, forgetting for a moment that I thought him dead just a moment before.

“I uh,” I said.

“No need,” said the owl.

Mr. Curtis reached into his hat and found another fresh outfit and started putting it on.

“Where’d you get…”

“This old thing…”

It looked freshly pressed.

The owl paced. Every few moments a ruffle would send fresh down feathers upon us. I brushed them out of my face.

“You boys,” said the owl. I swear his eyes lit up, but I don’t think they did. “You boys may be in way over your heads here.”

“What are we up against?” said Mr. Curtis, tying his tie.

The owl scraped the roof, sending tiles plummeting down to the ground below.

“I thought it might come to this.” The bird turned around. He was pacing. I thought he was preparing for liftoff.

“The bakery must be closed and cleansed. The tunnel must be closed that leads into the cave, and that will not stop them.”

“What will?” I asked.

“We’ll eventually have to find their lair and storm it. No one is safe, but in the short term, we can keep things under control.”

“How do we cleanse the bakery?”

“Salt. Holy water. Don’t eat the…” he coughed.

“And blocking the…”

“The drain…”

The owl tripped and landed in front of us. One eye was wide, the other tightly shut. He wasn’t breathing well. His beak opened, but it wouldn’t open wide enough for the creature inside to make its way clear. The first two sickly yellow tentacles pushed forth, trying to open his mouth.

I watched them in awe. We felt lost. “The surrounding town, Mrs. Constellation, the bakery, everybody, now this.” Mr. Curtis didn’t flinch.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said to the body of the owl lying before us, the creature inside trying unsuccessfully to take control of his large body. The failing eye winked at him as Mr. Curtis replaced the monocle in his left eye.

He handed me a flask and pulled quickly from his hat. It was a small one, glass with a stopper in the top

“Water?”

I saw the frog had in his hand a small salt cellar. He opened the lid, bidding me to do the same with mine. I popped it open.

“Holy water?”

“I thank you. You’ve told me enough. Now let’s cleanse my friend here.” He sprinkled the tentacles with salt. They retreated into the bird’s beak.

“Quickly friend,” he said to me.

I sprinkled some of the water onto the bird’s face, getting as much as I could on the beast.

“That’s right.” He did some more salt, going around the roof a little too. I did some more, following his lead.

The owl’s body convulsed. It flipped over. It shook. I poured a measure down the owl’s throat. The creature slowly emerged after it choked. It slid out and flopped to the rooftop, but it couldn’t cross the salt sprinkled around.

It was yellow, slimy, and pale. It resembled an octopus, but it had five tentacles instead of eight, and couldn’t easily supply support for its body weight. It blinked, looked around with a single bulbous bright blue eye, and stared us down. The person looked around.

“Looking for a way yet?” said the frog. “I’m onto you.” He faced the creative eye to eye, closing one of his own.

I carefully stepped away from them.

“I want you and your friends to leave,” said Mr. Curtis. “It’s hard enough being a frog or a rat in a world like this.”

“There’s room enough for all.”

“While true, I’m afraid I can’t condone parasites attacking my friends and neighbors.”

“We just… we must…”

“James, can you please?” Arthur was stirring. I ran to see him and helped him up.

“Of course,” I said.

“It’s just…” said the squelching squid.

“Can you live long outside of a host?”

“Yes, but not for long, and not above the surface.”

“Then I’m going to have to kick you out and ask two things.”

“What?”

“No coming above the surface.”

“And?”

“If you do, find a host that at least likes it.”

“Curtis!” I said.

“What? Somebody might.”

“Doubtful.”

“And if we don’t?”

“You may as well come kill me first next time so I won’t get in the way.”

It eyed me, where I was listening to Arthur’s heartbeat, and saw it, the place where we hadn’t sprinkled salt.

“We will come for the surface.”

It slid from me. I tried to climb the owl. Arthur just knocked me to the roof.

“Dr. James! The holy water!”

“Oh, yes!”

I pulled it from my breast pocket and uncorked it with my teeth. It reminded me of tossing grenades during the war. I tossed the bottle where it hit the creature, and mostly bounced off, but not without the contents spilling out all over the creature.

Where it spilled, what was later to be burned into the creature’s skin? It lost a tentacle, dissolving completely, then another one as it tried to run. Mr. Curtis chased it to the edge of the roof with the salt cellar, shaking handfuls of salt at it. It dodged this way and then rolled down the pitch of the roof like a ball. Its tentacles flopped and flapped like fettuccine that hadn’t quite seen enough boiling water and it fell from the roof, landing with a splat on the ground below. It opened its eye and looked up at us and I could hear in my mind. “We’ll be back. There are more.”

I squeezed my head, trying to get him out of there, thinking my body was quickly being taken over when I realized he was gone, squelching in the mud down a drain.

“Thank you, Arthur,” said Mr. Curtis.

“I’m never taking a roll from you again, Mr. Curtis.”

I walked back.

“What do we do?” I said.

“What? Do we?” Said, Arthur. “You, and you know.”

“Holy water and salt?”

“Where do we?”

“Come with me,” said Mr. Curtis. And he jumped down the drainpipe.

“I hate the drainpipe.”

I jumped down it and tried to keep my descent to the ground under control, but I couldn’t manage it. I slid out onto the dirty streets and with all the fluff, closer to the rat I know I am than the gentleman I see myself as. The tweed hid most of the dirt, so I straightened my coat as best I could. At least I’m in the shadows of the building.

“This way,” said the frog.

“What’s this way?”

“St. Albert’s cathedral. Holy water.”

I realized I’d used all I had on the poor thing.

“And salt?”

“The bakery,” said Mr. Curtis. “Besides, I still have some. Where’s the salt? Poor fellow, must I spell everything out for you?”

“No?”

I took off after him. The cathedral was several blocks ahead but faced the corner at one intersection. I could see it. It was the only place nearby where the stained glass was in red with blue and yellow. Skylights swallowed enough light at strategic angles to light the entire building with a certain glow. The morning streets were moving, but he kept on hopping rather than flagging a cab. The closer we got to it, the less I felt like flagging one down, either.

There were massive front steps of Stone, that also had a blue or red tile inserted every so often to keep up the motif, there was no sign for St. Albert’s only a large red cross in a field of yellow glass in the front with a blue letter A on each side. One was upside down, the other right side up.

We climbed the steps. It seemed like there were too many of them.

At the door, this early in the morning, I expected it to be locked. It wasn’t.

Mr. Curtis opened it and swung it wide. Giving me a look to the side. He hopped in and I followed. The door closed quietly behind us.

The tile was immaculate. I walked, hearing my footfalls echo down. “Mr. Curtis, how much exactly do you keep in that hat of yours?”

“I don’t know.”

“You always seem to have what we need in it.”

“I like to be prepared.”

“Unlikely.”

“I’m doing my best here. I was never good at magic.”

“No?”

“Much better doing this. I’d rather not be on stage. What about you?”

“You know, I’d see patients.”

“You’re retired though.”

“Doesn’t Mean I…”

Something clattered ahead of us.

“What was that?”

We ran down and found him on the floor. He was a mole, dressed in a monk’s habit, lying on the floor near a grand basin before three sets of tall solid oak doors that led further into a sanctuary.

We ran up to help him up.

“Thank you, Thank you.”

“Is this the holy water?” I asked.

“It is,” he said. One of the sanctuary doors quietly closed.

“We… need…”

“How much?”

The frog just looked at him, then back at the monk. “All of it?”

“I understand.” He reached under the basin, touched a switch, and brought out two bottles. They looked like vodka bottles, with crosses on them.

“Ah.”

“Take ‘em.”

The frog smiled. I kept one under my arm, and Mr. Curtis slid the other into his hat.

“Come on,” said Mr. Curtis.

“Not here,” said the monk, “don’t disturb him here. Yes, I know he’s here.”

We pushed through into the sanctuary. It was darker than the previous hall. He was sitting there in the front row, breathing and huffing.

We walked down the aisle and sat in front of him on the steps before the altar. His tentacles hung there without touching the floor.

“You can’t just take who you want,” I said.

“I know.” Again, the response was in my mind.

“Just let me rest.”

We sat down.

“Where do you come from?”

“Here? The deep? Depths. It’s been so long. All we know is dark.”

“Do you have a leader?”

“We have. He tells us to break free. We must take the surface back.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s too much trouble.”

“It’s not worth it.”

He perked up. “Oh, it’s worth it. I just don’t know if the cost will simply be too heavy.”

“I’d like it to work out. Is there any other way?” I said, while Mr. Curtis sprinkled salt under him all over the side floor around him and then started hitting the surrounding pew.

“We just get a host. It’s the only way we know.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Curtis.

The frog doused him. I didn’t even see him pour the glass.

"A colossal monster with glowing, translucent skin rampages through a city as battleships fire down. Two adventurers with energy whips prepare to strike while an unstable portal crackles behind them."

The Man With Three First Names, Chapter 10

The Man With Three First Names
Rabbits leap through time,
Portals hum with shifting fate,
Night and day now split.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.

There was a bellow from below them, the creature was beginning to grow. Its skin was already a sickening shade of yellow, and Simon could swear it was glowing beneath them. They watched out of the side of the ship as they passed over while the creature took a chunk out of the building it was climbing on. Electricity shocked through its body, and it began to convulse.

“Will he ever be the same?” asked Simon.

“No,” said Michael.

Fred and Moxie pulled on their goggles and watched the battle screen. They gathered around the console. They looked at the video image of the creature on the ground.

The President reached out his hand and moved his fingers across the table, moving in troops and air battle groups. They could see themselves. The President selected all the air units and then selected the creature itself. They could feel the ship they were in turn as he did it.

“What’s happening?” asked Simon.

Michael already knew.

“We’re surrounding it. I’ve just given the order.”

On the screen, the battleships converged on the monster, and keeping a safe-ish distance, began to circle around it.

The creature writhed and pounded its claws into the building it was on, busting out the side where a firm of lawyers was going over their latest case. Still around them, the thickness of the brown mists and bluegrasses pushed into the world. Great spiraling trees worked their way into the buildings, lifting some of them from the ground.

“The portal is still active,” said Michael.

Simon looked up. We saw it destroyed. How can that be?

“I don’t know.”

The President was quiet.

“What?” said Michael.

The President nodded over folded hands. He covered his face with them.

“Talk.”

“The connection hasn’t finished settling.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“If I’m right we’re working our way into a downward spiral.”

“What like a low-pressure system?” asked Simon.

Michael slapped the President’s hands down. “Talk! This isn’t a weather report.”

There were immediately fifteen guns trained on him.

“We are not playing here Mr. Christopher. We’ve got to ride this out. If the experiments we’ve been doing so far are any sign, then this is going to blow over in a few hours, and we’ll just have a little cleanup to go through after the worlds settle themselves out.”

Michael took a step back.

“It’s okay gentlemen.”

The President straightened his tie, and the men laid off, lowering their guns.

“Now let’s look at this again.”

They gathered around the console again, but this time Michael kept his distance a little bit. He listened, but he was already working on his own agenda.

The great dinosaur-like creature bellowed below them and put its hand into a building, past a group of designers and web developers, then pulled out a large pile of disused hard drives and ate them. It burped and belched fire all over another building that was just standing there minding its own business, thank you very much.

The creature, now starting to turn more of a green shade than he was before jumped down and landed in the middle of a busy street half-covered in cars and half great wooly creatures looking for succulent bluegrasses. It found the only asphalt instead. It grabbed a bus and started emptying people out of it into it’s gaping maw like they were potato chips at the bottom of the bag. When all the tasty morsels were gone, it tried to bite the bus, didn’t like the taste of it, and threw it into a local movie theatre, after which patrons began to run screaming from it, partially because of the impact of the bus, but also because they were in the process of running out already from the throng of little blue warriors that had taken refuge in the theatre.

“We can’t waste any more time.”

“Then you’re back on board Michael?”

“Yes.”

“Everybody else?”

Simon nodded.

Fred and Moxie nodded. They did their best serious looks.

“Okay then.”

The President waved his hand over the screen and began moving in troops.

“You’re ordering them with this right?”

“Yep, they are on the move, here.” The President brushed his finger on the screen, then selected a commander.

Michael watched them move into position. It looked like a leader was getting the orders in his helmet and then getting his troops in line. Chain of command.

“We’ve got to stop him.”

“All I can do is slow him down, I’m afraid.”

“It’s all up to Simon here.”

“What?”

“I think you’re the only hope in this situation. You were the closest to the blast and survived it when the barrier exploded between our worlds. Somehow you’re the link that’s going to send this guy home.”

“He’s pretty intelligent on his side of the fence,” said Michael.

“It’s sad,” said Simon. “Their world is poisoned.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I’ve got a country to run and a city to save here. Somehow it all comes down to you. I’m not sure how it’s just a hunch.”

“You’re right,” said Michael. 

“Mike?”

“He’s an ass,” said Michael, “but it’s the only thing that makes sense at this point.”

Simon found his nerve and straightened up. “When can I get down there then?”

The President smiled.

“Moxie? Do you have them?”

“You bet.”

Fred and Moxie pulled them from their gadget-laden backpacks what looked like little metal tubes. They held them forward and pressed a button with each thumb.

“What are those things?” asked Michael.

“They’re our ticket.” The bars expanded, and compartments opened and slid out until an entire hoverbike floated beneath both of them.

“Hop on guys.”

Simon ran forward and sat behind Moxie.

Michael took a deep breath and sat down behind Fred.

“What’s the plan then?” asked Michael.

“Oh the usual,” said the President. “Wing it.”

“Great.”

“Wing it. That’s all he’s got.”

“Wing it.”

“Nice.”

Michael shook his head. “Get us out of here guys.”

Fred and Moxie revved them up and took off. When they got to the edge of the flight deck, they turned to wave at the President, who waved back, then they dived off the edge, heading for the ground. It rushed up at them rather quicker than Michael would have liked.

They hurled to the ground, this time with engines spurring them on, towards mad creatures that wanted to kill them, but somehow Michael was at ease with it all. He sat there, on the hover-cycle, holding his hat and screaming at the top of his lungs like he was on a great carnival ride. He let it all out of himself, closing his eyes and imagined all the strange things he’d seen in his lifetime. The Lochness monster, bigfoot, aliens, zombies, and who knew what else. What better fate for him than to be dashed to death on the ground before a giant rubber monster that was terrorizing the city? If it was the way he was going to go out, it at least suited him just fine.

They flattened out, and started zinging through the streets, and in and out between the buildings.

There was a roar above them. Michael looked up and watched as the head of the monster seemed to bob between the buildings.

Moxie fired up her lasers.

Fred did the same.

They started firing on the creature as they approached.

“No!” yelled Michael

They didn’t hear him and kept on firing.

The creature swung out a fist and missed Moxie as they went by.

Simon leaped off of Moxie’s bike and flew through the air towards the monster, who batted at him and sent him tumbling into nearby thick grass.

“Simon!”

Michael too jumped, leaping for the creature’s neck. He latched on and held there for dear life. He reached into his pockets, and pulled out a squirt gun, and aiming it into the creature’s eye, blasted it with a mixture of lemon juice and battery acid. “That was handy.”

The creature writhed in pain and shook Michael off. He plummeted to the ground while the creature rubbed its eyes, more out of an annoyance, but it gave Fred and Moxie a chance to come around from the other side and hit the creature again.

Simon jumped and caught Michael on the way down and set him down.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Simon, as he launched himself up into the air again at the creature. He latched onto the creature’s nose and began to punch him, but it was like hitting a towering stack of gelatin molds. His hand stuck through the creature, and he had to pull it out with a sickening sucking noise each time.

Fred and Moxie came around for another pass, and Michael could tell from the corner of his eyes that the President was bringing his ships in, moving in for a kill, or a melt-down or whatever this creature’s fate would be.

Fred and Moxie let loose, and Michael watched as their laser blasts hit the creature, entered its dinosaur-gelatin body, seemed to build for a moment, and then passed through to the other side with a spurt of slime and marshmallow goo.

The creature burped a cloud of sweet-smelling steam and shook it off.

“Cut the lasers!” cried Michael, but he was wrong. It was a signal to Fred and Moxie to up the ante and let the creature have it.

They tore into it and filled him full of as much energy as they could muster. It filled the creature up and bloated the inside of him. As they passed the rubber monstrosity, the energy came out its other side and flew straight at them. They had just reached out for a high-five, and it turned into a handclasp as the energy from their own blasts came out and smacked them from behind. They were blown off their bikes, which crashed into the outside of a nearby building, and they were flying through the air.

Michael’s got a lot of luck. Simon’s nigh-invulnerable. Fred and Moxie are cute and have cool toys, but they are mortal, so they searched their bodies for anything they could find, and without their regular backpacks there was little they could do before they too hit the outside of a building to be cut to ribbons on the glass.

They clutched their hands together, and just before they hit the wall they hit the emergency teleport button on their wristbands.

No time to program it.

In a whiff of sparks, they were gone.

“Oh crap,” said Michael.

He looked back up to where Simon was punching the creature in the face and getting his hands stuck deeper and deeper in it.

Simon yelled and flung his fists at the creature, who seemed annoyed but not much else. It reared back its head and shaking its neck toppled Simon onto it’s bubbling green tongue, and swallowed him whole.

The creature walked up to Michael, who could see Simon struggling inside the beast through its translucent skin, and lowered its head to sniff Michael’s scent.

He blew Michael’s hat off. It rolled to a corner of the street that was already covered in shards of glass.

“That’s enough.”

The creature opened its eyes a little wider and regarded Michael a little differently. It cocked its head.

“I asked you not to come here.”

He stepped forward just a little bit.

“I told you you wouldn’t make it through the portal without causing more damage than good.”

He stepped forward again, and this time the creature stepped back a little.

“I’ve had enough, and now it’s time to send you back home.”

Michael plucked up his hat and put it back on, straightening it.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it yet, but you are finished, my friend.”

He held up a small phone to his ear.

“Mr. President, nuke the portal please.”

On his command ship, the President pressed a red button on his console, and then selected the remains of the Sublight group.

It wasn’t an actual nuke, but the three missiles that fell from his ship and headed out toward the facility were plenty good enough to do the job.

They landed one after the other, one, two, three, into the crater. Fire and dust exploded from the site, including a fearsome blast of light.

The portal was no more.

Cut off from his world, the creature began to scream and hold its head in pain for a moment, and then it righted itself, and almost seemed to regain and redouble its strength. Its skin became a more solid shade of green. Simon was still visible, but just barely, and he was moving less and less.

“Hmm. That’s not what I expected.”

The creature bellowed and stomped one of its great clawed feet down, pinning Michael to the ground. It was like being pinned to the ground by a candy bar.

“Okay,” said Michael from between the claws of the beast, now you’ve really ticked me off. He wrenched his body this way and that. His hat came off again, and he put it back on, giving the creature a glare when it happened.

The creature bellowed above him and reached out to knock an electric street sign down, which exploded and landed next to Michael in a shower of sparks.

Michael used the time to look through his pockets.

He pulled out a small voodoo doll, not much help there. He tossed it aside.

Policemen ran up, brandishing rifles, took aim and started shooting the creature. The rubbery nature of its skin wasn’t much help as the bullets just bounced around, or lodged in the skin and stuck there.

Michael searched another pocket and came up with his pistol, alien in origin, he wasn’t even sure what it was called. He fired it, and a beam of green energy flew to the creature’s torso, but it didn’t make much difference. For just a second, the creature forgot about Michael and started to walk off, carrying Michael with him still stuck at the foot, but the laser blast was enough to get its attention again, and it crouched down, pinning Michael flat He squeezed Michael’s arm against the side of the curb. Michael let go of the pistol.

“Crap.” It clattered to the ground.

What else did he have left?

He reached around and found a dagger there in the side of the street. It was one of those the little guys were always carrying. He took it and stabbed the creature, slicing off a rubbery toe.

It stepped off of him, and Michael popped up. He dodged a swing by the creature, and he could see in there, inside its body where Simon was now curled into a ball.

The creature kicked out and lashed its tail at Michael, but instead of hitting him with it, Michael jumped and landed on top of the tail, grasping it in his hands. He climbed up the creature’s back, using the spikes on the creature’s back for support. They were a little harder than the rest of its body.

The creature turned around, trying to sling him off, but Michael didn’t budge. Instead, he held on tight and didn’t move, and continued to scale the beast. There was occasional fire from the President’s men, but they were afraid to hit Michael, so they held off.

Michael grasped onto the creature’s neck and gathered his strength. The creature was starting to make it’s way through town, scraping buildings and breaking glass in its wake, stepping on a car here and there. Things were starting to stick to it, a light pole here, a small dog there.

Michael got up on the creature’s head, and he stomped on it.

The creature stopped.

Michael put his hands on his hips and looked down on the creature. “This is the end of the line for you. I asked you not to come here. To shut off your portal and leave it alone, but did you listen to me? You did not.”

Below him, deep in the creature’s belly, Simon’s eyes opened, and he transformed.

“Now it’s a little too late for you isn’t it?”

The creature looked up at Michael, not comprehending.

“That’s the worst part, isn’t it. You don’t even know you’re causing all this trouble, do you?”

The creature groaned a reply, but there was little feeling or coherence in it.

It rolled its eyes, trying to get a better look at him, then it shook its head, and just like Simon before him, the creature opened its maw and sucked down Michael and swallowed him whole. Then it burped and began climbing a nearby building.

It lurched up the side of the building, tearing out power cords and making a general mess of the place. It just wanted to see a little bit better. Being down in the buildings was as good as being in a cave to it. When it popped it’s head out above them, the President aboard his ship said “Fire.”

All the floating ships started at once, firing red pulses of light towards the creature, and it started to burn, and sizzle and pop.

It roared, and whipped around, smacking down on one of the President’s ships, which roared to the earth and exploded in a giant fireball.

They continued to fire. The President’s ship was standing back a bit now, and the creature whipped out its tale and took another one down, it spinning off into another building, and exploding. Only three left, the creature tracked them like they were gnats hovering just out of view of its left eye.

It jumped from the building and knocked the third one of the President’s crafts out of the sky like it was knocking the football from an opposing player’s arms. The craft lurched and hit the ground, plowing through a street lined with abandoned cars. There it carved a groove in the ground and sent dirt and debris up into the air, splattering all the buildings, and knocked the cars that were in the way into the storefronts of nearby businesses.

The President dropped his arms, and stood there, looking at the destruction all around him. He peered out at the orange sky and waited for it to all be over.

“Sir, what are your orders?”

He looked around lazily.

“What?”

“Sir, your next order sir?”

He let out a great breath and looked around him at the men who were in his service. He didn’t even know their names.

He turned back to the battle map in front of him.

“Ram it.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me, arm the nukes, and ram it.”

The officer relayed the message into his headset with a solemn face.

There was general nodding around. They had to hope to get smacked and nuke the creature. After the others went down there was little hope for victory that way, and they couldn’t just leave. The country would be in total ruins forever.

They armed nuclear weapons.

They fired up the engines and sped toward the monster at top speed.

Right before the weapons finished arming and booting up, the creature whipped out its tail and knocked the President’s ship down. It sailed in a spiral towards the Earth and exploded in a ball of flame half a mile high.

The creature roared and bellowed with rage, and with satisfaction as it continued to tear through the city.

In the belly of the beast sat Simon and Michael. They lay there unconscious and somehow preserved inside the jelly stomach. It stomped along and took them with it. Other people were around them in various states of consciousness. Some of them were curled into balls, some were whimpering, but others, some of which found themselves turned into snack food for the beast via being on the wrong bus at the wrong time were cutting and slicing their way through the beast’s flesh with plastic knives and sporks, and several were using just their hands, or paper coffee cups to do the digging with.

“Should we wake them up?”

“It’s no use. They’ll wake up in time.”

“I hope it’s on time.”

“I do too.”

“They kept digging, almost swimming through the creature.”

Outside the creature knew no different. To it, there wasn’t a rebellion going on under its skin. It just knew it was free, and that this world was there for the taking, not that it knew what that meant either. It was free, and wild in a strange land, and it was alone.

In the wreckage of the President’s ship lay the torn and scattered remains of the President. His body lay broken and torn apart, there were wires everywhere, and part of his plastic face had melted off. His suit smoked, charbroiled and burned and the screws holding his limbs on had all given away and were strewn across the field of battle.

One of his commanders, next to dead himself, pushed up from the wreckage, noticed the disaster and watched as the creature continued to lurch away. He held his earpiece to what remained of his ear and said, “Delta Bravo One, do you read?”

He heard a response.

“The man’s down, repeat, he’s down. Start operation starfish. Repeat operation starfish.”

“Copy that, Delta Bravo One out, Operation Starfish is in motion.”

There was a click, and he knew he’d signed his own death warrant. The remains of the ship exploded and took him with it. There was no evidence now, no pieces of the dead President’s robotic body strewn around.

The commander welcomed it. He closed his eyes and succumbed to the magnetic fireball, and knew no more.

Millions of miles away, Fred and Moxie came hurtling out of a purple wormhole and onto the deck of a popular space station. They got up and brushed themselves off. They didn’t have their backpacks, and they didn’t have anything but each other and their wristbands, which were blinking. “Recharge light…” By then it might be too late. They picked themselves up. There was a throng of people who were now avoiding them and walking away from them. They had arrived in a busy walking area.

They staggered to a coffee shop on the side of the walkway and looked up at the starry sky above the mega station. They ordered two cups of synth coffee, and sat back, unaware of how the battle was going without them, feeling guilty that they couldn’t return immediately.

“What do we do?”

“We wait it out, what else is there to do?”

They watched through the glass and force fields in the ceiling and looked out as the station came back around to the dayside of the planet.

It was Earth.

“Fred.” She said it as she grasped his wrist.

There it was, definitely Earth.

“Oh shit.”

Below them, the Earth turned. They had traveled in time as well as space. It’s always odd when you have to hit the emergency escape.

They took another sip of their coffees and watched their wristbands, to see how long it would take them to recharge.

By the time they had finished their fifth cups of coffee, now wired up and ready for anything, their wrist bands beeped and they were ready to go.

They stood up, the bill for coffee unpaid, and zapped out of there. It wouldn’t matter where they programmed it for, their wristbands were still stuck on Earth. They flung around through time and space, on their way back. They held hands as they traversed the psychedelic passages of space and time to come out the other side screaming, hot and flustered, and landing just several feet from Jen and Walter’s restaurant again.

“Hungry?”

A foggy Victorian street at night. A rat detective and a monocled frog in a top hat stand frozen on a doorstep as an eerie figure looms in the doorway—Mrs. Constellation, her body wrapped in writhing yellow tentacles. Her eyes glow, and a sinister beak-like maw emerges from her mouth.

Shadow Street Chapter 7

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

“Mr. Curtis, what happened?”

We ran up to him where he was standing there, covered in donuts, his hat to the side. His monocle still hung from his eye and he had the silliest smile on his face.

“What?” said the frog.

There was a blank expression in his eyes.

“Let’s get them off of him.”

We started pulling donuts off him, popping them over his wrists, and then after pushing him to the ground with the cushion of baked goods around him, onto his back so we could disentangle his feet. Soon he lay there on the ground.

“Here’s your hat at least,” I said, putting it back on his head. This seemed to clear his mind ever so much and he seemed to look at us for the first time realizing…

“Well, then!” He reached into his hat and pulled out a long nightshirt. “That’ll do.” He rummaged for a second longer and pulled out a pair of red bedroom slippers. He put his feet in them, then wriggled into the nightshirt and put his hat back on. “Good as new! Come on, this way.”

He hopped down the hall, left and right.

“Which way are we going?”

“Listen, Dr. James, the singing! This way!”

He pointed in one direction and completely hopped in another. Mrs. Smith and I did our best to keep up, following his hopping flapping body in as best a serpentine fashion as we could.

“Wait, I can hear it,” said Mrs. Smith, and faint, I thought I could as well.

“It must be this way,” I said.

We scrambled around, down in the tunnels, and came around to a small balcony overlooking a large room. I covered the ceiling with glistening stalactites hanging from it. Lights from a fire pit below shined on it. There were several other small balconies like this one across the way, but they were all dark.

Down below, around the fire pit, were several folks, mostly moles, and a couple of mice, again with strange octopus creatures holding onto their faces. Each extended two tentacles, one to the left, the other to the right, and they were touching each other as they danced, or used their possessed bodies to dance around the fire pit.

“Do you recognize anyone down there?” I said.

“Anyone? I recognize all of them!”

“They all come to your shop?”

“Yes, I’ve seen all of them recently.”

“In the last few days?”

“I don’t know, but I think I’ve sold things to all of them.”

“What do we do?” said Mrs. Smith.

“Nothing yet. We’ll have to watch them,” I said.

 Curtis was back down from crawling over the edge. “No jumping just yet, friend.”

“Humph.” Mr. Curtis folded his arms.

“Cut it out.”

I peaked over the banister’s edge and looked down, but all I could see were people dancing in the dark around a fire, and what seemed just a few people at that. I pulled a small pair of binoculars out and peered down below, and got a look right into one of their mouths.

“Yeah,” I said, then looked again. They were dancing around, holding onto each other’s tentacles, and swaying around, their arms hanging by their sides, to no music I could hear, and then they released each other in unison and I watched as the creatures slowly retreated into their mouths. A moment later, they were blinking and staggering around, and the fire went out.

“Now,” I said.

Mr. Curtis jumped over the side, giving me a wink on his way over.

“What? Mr. Curtis!” said Mrs. Smith. She ran to the edge to see Mr. Curtis deftly land and slide the rest of the way down to them, on a random stair banister. He landed in his pajamas and wandered into their midst, waving his arms and acting as disoriented as they were.

“How do we?” I said.

“This way.” Mrs. Smith took me by the hand and dragged me around the corner where the stairs were. We ran down to find Mr. Curtis helping a young mole up.

“There you go.”

The mole looked at us. “Where are we?”

“No idea,” lied Mr. Curtis. “Do you know?”

“This way everybody,” said Mrs. Smith. “This way.” She waved her arms. “Link Up everybody, link up.”

Everyone took a hand, and she led us out, occasionally I took the lead for a couple of turns, and mostly, Mr. Curtis kept up the persona of a dazed fool who didn’t know where they were, like the rest of them, on one or two occasions he sent us in the right direction when no one was looking.

“This way,” said Mrs. Smith, as we passed the mushrooms.

They passed under strange pipes and up to a strange mossy set of stairs. Above them, a gas lamp, covered in metal and glass, burned and flickered, casting strange shadows on the ground.

“This way everybody, follow me,” said Mr. Curtis. He hopped cheerfully up the stairs and found the door locked, but his face didn’t falter. He twisted the handle, and it rocked, but remained still.

He pulled a fine feather from his hat and jiggered it in the lock as the other folks were climbing the stairs. It clicked with a satisfying thunk and then twisted the knob and opened it as if it belonged to him personally.

“This way, this way.” He reached in through the door and found a candle on a holder which he lit, and picking it up by the little ring holder, he went in and proclaimed everything okay. “Through here, yes, right this way.”

He led them through and into the next room, which was someone’s front parlor connected to a ballroom. All the lights were otherwise out and there was a coating of dust on the floor that was sticking to my furry toes.

“I say, Mr. Curtis…”

“This way,” said the hopping frog. He led them right to the front door, and out into the night streets. Corners were lit with gas lanterns and a couple of cabs were still on the road.

I shared a look at Mrs. Smith and then with Mr. Curtis, and we hailed three of them for our woozy friends. I paid for the coaches and Mrs. Smith and Mr. Curtis gave them all scratches behind the ears. A black pug pulled one, and Scottish terriers pulled the other two. Mrs. Smith gave them all tickets for a roll and a coffee after we sent them home. After we walked Mrs. Smith back to her shop, we wanted to see if we could see them again.

We were stepping up to her front door and about to enter when she hacked, coughed, and held her neck.

“Mrs. Smith?” I said.

“Oh dear,” said Mr. Curtis.

We held her by her arms, one draped over my shoulder, and another in Mr. Curtis’s hand, when she erupted like a spring, spitting yesterday’s lunch from last Tuesday all over the steps. She sprayed like a faucet and soup coffee and dinner rolls splattered across my vest.

“Dr. James, I… Dr. James… Mr. Curtis…”

Then the tentacles erupted from her face. They splayed out like a pinwheel in the wind and wrapped around her head. Eyes came out of her upturned mouth, with a snapping beak, and her teeth and jaw hung slack. Her eyes were dark, and staring into nothing, lids loose and unfocused.

“Mrs. Smith! Mrs. Smith!” I said.

Mr. Curtis held her hand, aiding me to support her now relatively limp body.

“Mary-Anne!” I screamed.

“Friend, I think it’s taken her.”

She shook out of our arms and staggered away, shuffling like a zombie with a broken foot, back out towards the street, then the tentacles reached and touched the ground, and pushed her feet up off the ground. It carried its body-shell with it and headed down the street, her feet trailing behind her.

“By Jove…”

One tentacle, sickly yellow and pale in the moonlight, reached up, and they carried her up and over a building, and through the chimney tops.

It left us standing in the street in front of Mr. smith’s bakery.

“It’s in the rolls,” said Mr. Curtis.

“I’m realizing that now.”

“I wonder how long we have before one takes us, too?”

“I’m not sure, but I would certainly like to know what we can do.”

“How many people have they taken already?”

“Could be hundreds?”

“More than that shop here.”

“And it’s not just here. Who knows where else this is happening?”

“This is much larger than just us.”

We were already walking home, we just didn’t realize it. We made our way around the corner and back down the hill toward shadow street.

“I think I’m going to need a change of clothes,” I said, looking at my vest.

“Me too,” said Mr. Curtis. It’s not like I keep another suit in my hat. I’ll have to think of that for next time.

“How much can you keep in that thing?”

“It’s a magician’s hat. What do you think? I don’t know. I think it would bust the illusion for me to tell you.”

“Of course.”

We hiked down shadow street, past a line of businesses on the corner, then larger residences, then into townhouses, and straight up.

“Mrs. Constellation will not understand what we are up against here.”

“No, we’ll have to explain.”

“Pale slimy creatures of the night, erupting from the mouths of our friends and neighbors.”

“A strange ritual underground.”

 “That we are likely to see next.”

The clock tower rang in the distance at one o’clock. Even from this far away, you could still see it, the face illuminated pale and dim, but there, a circle in the distance, you could count on more reliably than the half-moon above them.

Something passed in front of the moon, silent as the night. It was only briefly darker for a second, a shadow passing over them.

We looked for the source, but couldn’t see anything.

“Here we are.”

We stepped up the front steps, and I opened the door with my key, Mr. Curtis’s having been lost earlier. I had to find it, fishing through a pocket Mrs. Smith had vomited on. I gathered it, opened the door, and behind it stood Mrs. Constellation, covered head to toe in stringy yellow tentacles coming from her mouth.

The creature controlling her stared us down.

Her body was not slack, but her muscles were tense. She looked like a walking full-body muscle spasm.

“Mrs. Constellation…” I said.

“Is no more,” came from the creature. I could not tell where its mouth was until it revealed its beak the next moment and said, “And soon you too, and then the world.”

She shut the door on us. We were out in the cold. These creatures had infected our client and so many other locals, and we were certainly next.

I stayed on the first step.

Mr. Curtis went and banged on the door again. He was indignant. He beat on the door with his fists, calling over and over for Mrs. Constellation to open up. I thought him mad.

Then the door opened, and the creature trailing Mrs. Constellation’s body behind it stepped out.

“Who are you?” he demanded, standing there in his nightshirt and magician’s hat. “Tell me what you want!”

“We are coming to the surface. We are coming up from underneath, where we have lived for so long, in the shadows.”

“We know something about that. It doesn’t give to be hostile.”

“It’s the only way we’ve ever known.”

“Come on, try it.” Mr. Curtis’ face gave a wide smile, then croaked accidentally. “Excuse me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

It slammed the door on him again, then he came to sit with me on the first step.

“You know where else we can get a change of clothes?” I asked.

“I got nothing,” said the frog. He sat, looking with one eye into his hat. “Not a rabbit in sight.”