Tag Archives: reality collapse

"A massive, glowing portal divides two worlds—one alien, one Earthly—as a colossal creature remains trapped between dimensions, with military ships circling overhead in preparation for battle."

The Man With Three First Names, Chapter 8

The Man With Three First Names
Rabbits leap through time,
Portals hum with shifting fate,
Night and day now split.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.

The giant smacked his side of the massive gate. “More power!”

Behind him, men who all looked like they were normal, and not any way too tall for the Earth, began working harder on the machine.

“We have to get through.”

Captain Harland stood there and paced. He could see the remains of the lab on the other side of his portal, though it was only in crossing that you could tell a difference in height between these men and the men of Earth. He threw his fists into the portal, was electrified, and flew fifteen feet backward, landing in a heap and smoldering on the ground.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever done this. The men around him, all working on the machine, which is what the Captain called it, buried their heads in their jobs and kept at it, letting the big guy pick himself up. Trying to pick him up led to disaster.

The Captain stood up and brushed himself off. He checked himself and straightened his suit. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He pushed forward and continued to pace in front of the gate.

“I don’t understand, he said. There’s nothing to it, dimensional travel is all. We should be able to break through the barrier by now.”

A small robot came whizzing up to him through the air. It was spherical and seemed to float on its own repulser field. It bleeped at him.

“Report, oh-one.”

The robot twittered.

The captain smacked it away. “Speak damn you! We programmed you to speak!”

The robot righted itself and floated back up, and switched speakers so it could translate its words into a robotic whine. The voice seemed to tremble and warble over the little tinny speakers the robot had. “Yes sir, sorry sir.”

The Captain looked back at the little ball. He wanted to crush the little sphere between his fingers, and he knew that he could, but you had to talk to someone while you were waiting sometimes.

“Please continue,” said the Captain. He held his hands behind his back while they talked to remove his temptation to knock the little balloon for another spin.

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

The Captain waved off the apology.

“It seems sir that we are splitting the barrier further and further with each attempt and reaching into the other dimension a little bit more each time. As long as we keep up with our pulses like we are, and reinforcing the link to the other dimension, we should break through before long.”

“Just a matter of time then.”

The Captain looked around at their strange, declining world, no longer habitable by his kind. Wars had ravaged here, and after hundreds of years of nuclear bombardment, subsequent mutations, and attempted gene therapy, this was all they had left. The world was dark, and silent, and filled with purple grasses and brown mists. Around him, near where the men were working on the machine, grazers worked on the soft grasses and a massive creature worked its way through the skies lowering its long snout into a local lake to drink its fill as it cruised along on a gas-filled bladder that kept it in the sky. Around them in the distance, the ruins of a futuristic city stood behind them, covered in purple and orange moss, with grass poking up through the streets and trees growing into the lower floors of the busted outbuildings. It The tops of the buildings, what remained of them, were covered in birds of various kinds and styles and their nests.

The Captain seemed on his own, desperate and lonely. The robot twittered next to him, but he found it intolerable and knocked it to the ground again. It was the only thing he had to talk to. The other men talked among themselves, but they were useless. They had no vision, and he suspected, they were too close to the new animals of his world. This portal was all he had left.

He pulled a photograph of his wife from his pocket. She was beautiful, with long blue hair and silver skin tone. On the Earth, the pocket photo would have been larger than a standard poster. He put it back in his pocket.

She’d been killed just at the end of the last wars when the bombs were still dropping. She was lost. The blue fireball had consumed his entire street. He whispered to her, his hand on the photo in his pocket. The other world, I know it’s my only hope. I have to reach there, even if I destroy it or most of it in the process.

He listened to nothing. What he imagined was her voice, soft tones in his ears.

“I know it’s harming them. I know I should just turn off the portal, but I can’t.”

He watched as the men worked on the generator, getting ready for another pulse. There was a video projection coming from a light housing on the top of the machine, the bulb within it was the only thing keeping the tenuous connection he had with the other dimension. He dared not get too close to it. He was starting to wonder if it would ever work at all.

“We just kept getting so close.”

If he’d had it his way, he’d have stepped through, and left them all behind, but it seemed to keep bleeding this world into the next. When he tried to push himself through before it hadn’t worked the way it should. He couldn’t remember. Trying to think about the last time he tried to push through wouldn’t come to him.

He pondered it all and sat watching the projection from the portal like it was a huge television screen. Beyond it, he could see the remains of the science lab on the other side. He could see there were casualties there, and that their equipment seemed to be continuing to function a little bit. They must have tried to open dimensional portals to each other at exactly the same time. “How did that even work?  What could the odds have even been?”

He watched the science lab, now devoid of life, on the other side, and regretted that those men had to die. He’d had little to do with it, just an accident, but he still felt responsible. He’d been watching the little scavenger assassins that ran over the countryside in this part of the world bursting through to terrorize them on the other side. He still hadn’t been able to get through for more than a few minutes each time.

He thought about it, no one was choosing to cross on their own. It just seemed to be everything in the general vicinity was just working its way through. So the intention to use the portal was a factor. Either way, everything would return to normal as soon as the connection was lost, and they were forced to boost the pulse again.

“If I let it go on, then there’s no going back for any of them. If there were only a way to get through without having anything else hitchhike along with me. That’s the key. I should do it. Just crush the lamp, destroy the machine, and take that last walk into the wilderness. It would be easy. Close the portal, walk away. It would be over.”

Quick, and painless, again with his own kind. He’d been born with a drive to survive, but when all you’ve got to look forward to are monsters in the forest and radiation sickness… He kicked at the ground.

Behind him, the men were starting to get excited.

Oh-one floated up and chirped. “Sir, there’s some movement on the other side.”

Earlier they’d set out sensors, and for some reason, maybe it was the dimensional static, they seemed to continue working while they were still stuck on this side.

The Captain rushed over to the sensor equipment, red dots on a field of yellow.

“Is that all the detail we have? Turn it up, let’s bring these guys into proper focus.”

He adjusted a dial on the side of the screen and smiled with personal satisfaction when he had everything in clear view.

“It’s four of them. It looks like two men, a woman, and some form of creature, perhaps a bodyguard of some kind, lean and tall. I wonder how he deals with that hair. It’s all over the place.”

They were climbing forward, and down into the caverns that had opened up after the blast, down towards the epicenter where the portal now fizzled, almost about to go out.

They lowered themselves into the science lab of the Sublight group and he watched as they looked around, surveying the perimeter.

“They’re looking for any of the creatures. If there are any stragglers. Let me tell you there aren’t. Not until I can push back through. It could be any minute. It’s the only way.”

“Sir, we’re almost there!” called one of the men who was working on the portal generator.

“Yes? Is it there?”

“We’re about to pull the trigger on it now. We’ll be there in just a moment. All the fuel reserves are full, we’re just waiting on the charge to kick in.”

The Captain watched through the portal at the four of them standing there. What was he about to unleash on them? He didn’t know. What would he look like on the other side? It was all a blur.

“Sir, we’re there. Shall I pull the trigger?”

He took one last look at them, just in case it was his last.

“Do it.”

The men worked around the generator at a frantic pace. They flipped switch after switch, generating ever-increasing surges of power.

On the other side, Fred and Moxie walked up to the portal. Behind them, Michael and Simon made their way down. Michael removed the clip from a harness he had lowered himself in with and tossed it aside. Simon just landed with a single leap from the top. They looked through the hazy screen of the portal, and just for a moment, Michael was face to face with the Captain.

The pulse went out.

There was an explosion of light on the Captain’s side of the portal, and a blast of light from the projector flew out and exploded where the portal was. All around them the countryside was replaced with a broken parking lot, a piece of the street and a field of junked cars. On the other side, on Earth, the cars were vanishing and replaced by the form of furry creatures of the night, and the four of them were knocked to their feet by the shockwave.

Before them the images in the portal crystalized, and they could see the Captain on the other side. He seemed pleased with himself, a job almost complete was the look in his eyes.

All around them they heard the ching of metal as a half dozen of the little bastards, six arms each flew at them in the dark.

Moxie ducked as one went over her.

Michael blasted one with a small silver blaster pulled from his inner coat pocket.

Fred hit one with a baseball bat, sending it flying back into the darkness in a silent crumple.

Simon roared as five of them hit him at once and were stabbing him with everything they had. He felt magnetized. They seemed to fly at him without meaning to. He punched one, sending it careening off into the darkness. Another one bit as his ankles and tore his foot off. It exploded with sprays of green blood. He hit the floor on one knee and reached out to slam two of the creatures together into a pulp before him. In another moment, he grabbed two more out of the air above, who were about to land on him, and brought them to the ground hard and fast, killing them.

“Simon—” Michael came over to him.

“It’s all right.”

Simon stood up, and Michael watched as Simon’s wounds healed together, and his foot reattached to his leg. He popped his ankle into place and shook it off.

“All right then.”

 He punched his open palm and cracked his knuckles.

The area was clear for the moment, but there was some warbling in the air, and time and space seemed to be shifting in on itself just a little bit.

“Climb back out!” said Michael. He could feel the next one coming.

“What?” asked Moxie.

“Out, everyone out! Simon, can you help them?”

Simon took Fred and Moxie in his arms and leaped out of the cavernous remains of his old office, landing on the ground above. When he got there, Michael was already up.

“How did you—“

Michael ignored him, and pulled out his telephone, a sleek black job, no good for games, but deadly secure, even for a cell phone. He was already opening up the space roadster.

He got a signal.

“Yes, Mr. President. I think we’re going to need a little help here. I’m about to put you on the car’s cam system.”

He stepped into the car, and everyone else followed. Once in there was a rumble, like a small earthquake, and then another.

“Thunder?” asked Simon.

“No. We should be so lucky.”

He dropped the phone into a slot on the dash, and an image of the President came up.

“What is it you need Michael, is everything in hand?”

“Hey that’s the President!” said Fred.

There was another rumble.

“No sir, I think we’re going to need a little help here.”

The ground rumbled and the car was thrown a hundred feet into the air, where it settled in and began to hover there.

“What was that?” asked the President.

“We’re going to need a little help getting to the portal to get through it sir, I’d like to suggest you send in a task force, can you oblige?”

“We can arrange help in that fashion Michael, what’s the objective of the mission?”

“I’m going to turn on my exterior cameras for you now, and I’ll give you a look. Getting close enough to the portal is going to prove dangerous, and I don’t think we can risk waiting for another down pulse.”

He turned on the cameras.

Below him there were seas of the little assassins, cartwheeling about, shredding everything they could find. Around them were the Grazers, transformed from local cars and trucks, but now in massive form, as if they had been moving towards the portal since the pulses began. There were large floating behemoths, sucking up everything they could find through their furry snouts, and right on top of the portal, sticking through it, and fighting its way into the world was a creature, large and insane, a multi-tentacled beast as large as an aircraft carrier. It looked like a giant mass of wriggling spaghetti, undulating in all directions. There was a large gaping maw at its base, and each clawed tentacle ended with a large rolling eyeball, the size of a truck tire.

“Jesus Michael, that’s what you’ve got there?”

“Yes sir, and I’d appreciate a little help. I just want to keep them at bay. It’d be nice if this big one didn’t get through the gate between now and then.”

“I’ll order it now.”

The President smacked a button on his desk, and Michael could see him stand up and start giving orders before the connection went dead.

“So, what do we do now?” asked Fred.

“We wait.”

“Wait?” said Moxie.

“There’s nothing else to do. If we go down there we’ll be toast, and Simon and I have to get through that portal and knock it out on the other side. Can’t get through that on my own.”

There was a crackle in the air.

Another brief pulse and a shockwave rang out, multiplying the creatures below.

“What the hell,” said Fred.

The assassins were throwing themselves into the air and climbing on top of each other. One of them landed on the hood of the floating Cadillac.

Michael flipped the car over, doing a stationary barrel roll. The little guy flipped off, but more were on the way.

“We’ve got to get higher.”

Michael pulled the car and opened the jets, pointing the car up into the sky. The sunset played on the hood.

He dropped the speed and looked down again.

“Michael, this is the P.R.E.Z one, do you copy?” It was coming over the radio.

Michael hit the switch.

“Copy that. It’s me.”

We have you on our scanners. Hold your position, and we’ll be making our entry now.

“What’s he mean entry?”

“Watch this. You think our military hasn’t done anything interesting lately?”

“War in Iraq?” asked Simon?

“Child’s play. Here come the real guys now. Let’s just hope they can hold them off long enough.”

In they came.

Three ships appeared, from dots of light in the sky, they became brighter and brighter over the course of a second, and through a rip in space and time they arrived. They were definitely US military. Two were painted in modern camouflage, which changed almost like a chameleon to match the general tones around them. The ship in the middle was pure white, which could mean only one thing. The President was aboard, commanding the fight.

The ships had no wings, but just little sharp, pointy juttings, like fins on each side. They had command bridges up top, were smooth, and silent. On their sides, massive doors opened up, and metal spheres, each the size of a car began to spill out.

“Are they bombs?”

Michael shook his head. “Your tax dollars at work.”

The silver spheres landed on the ground below, destroying everything in their way, rolling in and ripping up mounds of dirt and turf that Michael knew would be just fine in the morning when this pulse was over if it ever was.

There was no explosion, but the tremendous crash of them impacting.

Then the spheres began to wiggle, crack and stand up on long tripod legs.

Michael took a closer look at his camera.

He focussed in, and they could see the clear, yet metallic dome over the human driver of each machine. The tripod walkers marched forward on the dome. Forcefields around them kept the little assassins at bay, and they used robotic arms to toss the grazers aside. There was some laser fire, but together the soldiers, with the help of the President and his small fleet, began to herd the creatures closer and closer together.

“They aren’t killing them,” said Moxie.

“That is interesting,” said Michael. “It’s what I expected them to do.”

There was a beep from the console.

“Looks like the President wants to talk,” said Simon.

Michael hit the switch, and the President was on the line.

“Michael, doing all right there?”

“Fine as fiddlesticks sir, he said.” He tipped his hat at the President.

“We’ve got them corralled for now. Come on board, and let’s take a look at this big guy together right?”

“On my way.”

Michael cut off the channel, and dived for the President’s ship, he landed the car in an open bay. As the four of them were walking towards the President and some of his advisors, Michael beeped the car behind him, to lock it with his key fob. The convertible roof came up, and everything locked down.

They shook hands.

“Mister President sir.”

“Michael David Christopher, the Man with three first names, its good to finally meet you in person.”

“It’s an honor, sir. Shall we?”

“Of course.”

They reconvened in a separate room, with a large table on which was an interactive screen.

The President swept his hands across the table and pointed the camera at the Sublight group facility. The large tentacled creature filled the gaping hole.

“What’s it doing there?”

“I think it’s stuck.”

Michael looked up.

“I think it is. It hasn’t made a move since the last pulse. We’ve monitored one more major pulse, a strengthener, and another few minor pulses around to even the load, and stabilize it. We think they are waiting. Someone is testing something by putting this creature through.”

“Hmm…”

“The other creatures are just bleeding through. They are part of one world, and part in another. This creature is struggling. It looks like it’s stuck halfway between this world and the other, but pinned at the portal.”

“Again, hmm,” said Michael.

“There’s a bit more there. We think it might be an experiment, the attempt to push something through on purpose, perhaps before someone or something else makes the attempt again.”

One of the advisors moved the screen with a touch and dropped some print-outs on the table.

“We think it’s almost through. One more pulse maybe.”

“Then what happens?”

“We don’t know. Two theories. Either it vanishes as everything else does after a pulse is over, or since it came through the portal, it might be left behind. We don’t want to change that.”

“What about blasting it?”

“Blasting it could cause it to complete its journey. We don’t want that to happen either. The soldiers on the ground have done a good job of herding everything up and engaging the little assassin guys, but this one we’ve been watching by satellite peek through in the last couple of pulses.”

“So now it’s a waiting game?”

“Yes, it’s a waiting game. Our plan is to get the two of you down through the gate as soon as the next pulse comes through. Until that, we’re staying airborne.”

“That makes sense.”

“That is unless one of the big guys knocks through us.”

Foom!

They looked down at the table.

“There it goes, another pulse.”

“Sir! The sun!” It was one of the soldiers, hanging by the open floating hanger.

“Good good, let’s see.”

They focused down on the hole again.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“What?”

There was a huge cloud of smoke around the Sublight group.

“Are the creatures fading?”

“Yes, they are fading, but this one, half-in and half out.”

There was a pulse.

“It’s made it through for good.”

They looked down, expecting to see a giant writhing creature, but there was just a splatter of green.

“At least that half of it made it through.”

The dust settled. As it did so, it revealed the half-body lying there.

“Now we may have a hell of a time getting to that portal.”

“Why?” said Moxie.

“Sushi, My dear, said the President. The crater down there is now full of it.”

"A man with a glowing weapon and a transforming humanoid face monstrous creatures emerging from an unstable portal under a starry sky, as energy pulses illuminate the battlefield."

The Man With Three First Names, Chapter 3

The Man With Three First Names
Rabbits leap through time,
Portals hum with shifting fate,
Night and day now split.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, The Man With Three First Names.

There he was, standing face to face with the janitor. All around them, snarling beasts with odd numbers of legs and eyes circled as the mist faded and the stars above them shined brighter than he had ever seen them shine before. Michael stood there, thinking about all the things he’d seen and realized that his odd and strange life was flashing before his eyes, and on over the back of his neck, making him shiver in all the wrong places.

One of the creatures snarled at him as it made another circuit.

The trollish looking beast, now half human and half janitor watched him without making a sound or even a noise. The man-beast seemed to regard him with distaste, or was it even disinterest, slumping to the side so as to appear to be staring through his left shoulder. He shook it off. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t matter at all.

A creature, a strange combination of a black panther, ravenous viper, and a six-foot-tall raven-thing lashed out. It jumped Michael and knocked him to the ground.

Michael took out a small umbrella from a back pocket that definitely didn’t look big enough to hold it, and jammed it in the creature’s mouth, hitting the open button. The creature’s mouth split open and expanded with the umbrella, sending it reeling off to whimper on the ground in just enough time for a second one of the little demons to jump him.

Michael was able to fend off the creature with a punch to the side of its immense head. As it hobbled back, it stumbled on its undersized hind legs. A third one jumped over the second, landed square on Michael’s shoulder and knocked him to the ground. Just as Michael’s back hit, the creature used the forward momentum to flip over, and land on him again, this time with its butt in his face. One fierce fart later, and he jumped in the air, intending to do the trick again, but it never made it to the ground. Instead, he just hung there in the air. It took Michael a moment to realize the janitor had grabbed the creature in mid-air and held it there in the air. It was unable to reach the ground, grab anything or gnash its teeth on anything worth gnashing.

Simon, what there was of his mind, threw the creature aside, breaking its back against the wall, and the side of him that was now a monster in its own right, let out a screaming yell, then gibbered for half a moment, crouched, and cleared his throat. He grabbed Michael and leaped out of the hole that was now in place of the testing facility. He landed a hundred feet from the hole, and Michael marveled at how careful the creature was being with him.

He expected to be dead.

Simon laid him down, next to his car, and then stood there, panting.

They could hear them, the creatures pulling themselves up and out of the facility. It wouldn’t be long before they were surrounded again.

One of the creatures popped its head up. Simon turned around and flew off, his arms flailing in rubbery directions, landing on the creature’s head. Simon was as large as a car himself and punched his fist down and into one of the creature’s eyes. It popped like a grape, and the fluid flowed over the janitor’s ragged coveralls.

Another one popped its head up from the great hole in the earth, now a bastion for evil natured creatures. Michael pulled from a concealed shoulder holster, a silver-tipped pistol that appeared alien in nature. He pulled the trigger. It had been designed for use by creatures with three suckered fingers. He fired it, blasting the creature with silver light that caused it to vanish without a trace.

Smaller creatures were now starting to spew up and out of the circular crater in the ground. They had mutated into something closer to ants with sixteen legs each, hard and black, about the size of a large shoebox, maybe something boots might come in. Michael stepped on one of them, and it splattered into five or six more creatures, the same in shape, only fewer legs. He blasted them, each in turn and jumped on the hood of his car. They had surrounded him.

Simon wasn’t faring much better than Michael was. Thousands of the tiny creatures covered him, each taking great piercing bites into his flesh. He threw them off, and rolled around, flailing in all directions. The wounds from his bites covered him in a foul black ichor.

Simon screamed, no longer able to speak the words he needed, and slumped down to his knees, willing himself to just sit there and take it, for them to tear him apart, certainly that would be the answer, the thing that would bring him peace.

Michael didn’t want to receive one of those bites for anything. He kicked the roof of the car, and the sunroof began to open, but there wasn’t time. He wished he hadn’t because the little creatures were just falling in there with him.

He hit the engine, cranked the car to life, and revved it up, the little bugs were starting to get the better of him, nipping him here and there. He slapped them away, and then stood up, to blast a larger creature coming out of the hole, pushing with great thin legs as it shook slime from its great huge wings. The creature exploded in the light, spraying its foul green lunch from another world all over everything.

At that moment the portal below flickered. It danced, and shimmered, almost closed for good, but then the ground shook with an enormous pulse that knocked everything to their feet.

It flipped Michael’s car over, and it landed on its wheels again.

The blast blew out from the portal. The creatures, the blood, everything except for the hole, the portal itself and Simon seemed to get sucked back through.

Michael ran to Simon and picked him up. He was shivering but normal otherwise. There was still some slime from his creature form on his forehead. Another pulse and he might not be so lucky. He looked over the edge, leaving Simon behind for a short period.

He watched as the portal flickered.

“It’s not long now,” he said. “It’s either going to go critical or fizzle out, you never know.”

It pulsed again, but it was a false alarm.

“I haven’t got long.”

Michael helped Simon up, and half walked, half dragged him to the car.

He plopped them in and revved it up. They were going to have to come up with a plan. He was going to need some help.

He pulled out, and once up to sixty-six miles an hour, he flicked the switch and the car vanished from the side of the road and reappeared a hundred miles away at an abandoned warehouse where he kept his office. At least that’s where it was this week.

He pulled in, and Simon followed him blearily up the steps to a small office, in the middle of the otherwise abandoned building.

The office had it all.

It had the half-frosted glass door with the lettering. It was totally, and blissfully computer-less, though he did have his gadgets here and there. It had an old-style rotary phone, sitting on a telephone book that was so old it was almost completely faded white. The office walls were covered from floor to ceiling with great and gloriously dusty bookshelves.

Behind Simon’s desk was the most interesting shelf, he called it his curio cabinet, even though there wasn’t any glass there. In the curio cabinet, there was a wide variety of items from every culture he’d encountered so far. He had alien artifacts as well as stuff from Earth. There were spiritual items as well as electronic gizmos. There was a helmet covered in gold next to a trio of shrunken heads, each clutching a sharp diamond in their teeth. Next to that were voodoo dolls, alien tech sensors, a lava lamp for the hell of it in purple and red. One of the oddest pair of things he’d ever acquired was the living undead zombie heads of Felix and Faustus. The zombie’s heads were each seated on a small dinner plate to keep the orange pus that was leaking from their necks from getting on the books.

Felix turned his head the moment Michael came into the room. “Well well well, if it isn’t the man with three first names then, back for another go?”

“Shut up Felix.”

He ignored the talking head as it sat there, rotting on his shelf, covered in maggots that Michael knew were nothing more than a trick of the mind designed to freak people out.

Faustus looked around but wasn’t impressed. He stopped when he saw Simon. “What’s with the stiff over there?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “His name is Simon. He’s a Janitor.”

“He’s been touched, you know,” said Faustus.

“I know.”

Michael pulled open a drawer and rifled through it. Not finding what he was after, he pulled the whole drawer out and threw the entire thing aside were junk and old pens splashed to the ground.

Felix turned his head on his plate and twisted his remaining eye back at an unreal angle to watch what Michael was doing. “It’s not in that drawer, It’s in the red book this time.”

Michael had just finished turning out another drawer out when he looked up at Felix. “The red book eh?”

Felix tried to nod, and almost toppled off the shelf.

Michael jumped forward and climbed the first two shelves near the floor so that he could reach the red book, which was a large three-inch-thick tome, covered in dust.

He opened the book and saw within it a set of goggles, made with real eyes, bloodshot and darting that regarded him with fear, and a syringe filled with an orange liquid that seemed to glow with its own faint light.

He grabbed the goggles, and put them on, looking through the darting eyes at Simon. He took the syringe, and held it up then, as if he were blind, and not trusting the eyes he was looking through, he stepped forward, and took Simon’s arm.

“What are you going to do with that?”

The eyes were darting hard left and right. It made Michael wobble.

He took the syringe and watched Simon’s arm.

“It’s the toxins from the gate. This can slow down the transformations. There could be another pulse at any time, and the next time, you might not make it.”

He plunged the syringe in, seeing now the floating purple and orange spots floating in the eyes of the goggles. He shot the liquid into Simon’s arm.

The scream was unreal. Simon thought he was hearing someone else do it. It sounded like someone trying to scream while gargling three feral cats and a bucket of fried chicken.

There was still a little bit of raw strength there, and he struck out and toppled onto the desk, sending papers everywhere.

“Good one Mike,” said Felix.

Simon stood up, and began to transform, clutching his arm.

“Oh yeah,” said Felix, “make him change early. Nice. He might get worse next time now.”

Simon stood and roared, his mouth splitting as his head began to change and his hair began to grow and muscles became better defined. His shirt tore, and he clawed his hands across the bookshelves sending cheap paperbacks in all directions. He jumped through the door, luckily open, and bounded out into the open warehouse.

“Crap,” said Michael.

“You better get him quick Mike,” said Felix.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s good you’re the only one at the office. It’s hard to fire yourself.”

“I’ll have to remember that. Firing myself once in a while might feel pretty good.”

He’d chased a lot of zombies in his time. He’s chased them over garden fences and into the back yards of many a housewife looking in on her above ground pool full of kids while there was nothing else left to do but go after them with a shotgun. It was the best way to kill zombies, so no judgment there. You had to make sure their heads came off or you were screwed.

Michael was running flat out, as fast as he could. He was keeping up with Simon though, who had flung into a rage.

“Crap.”

He dodged a low hanging branch as the troll-like beast half lumbered, half catapulted through the back yards of several nearby houses to the warehouse. He wondered if he could catch him. He wasn’t breaking a sweat yet. The number of aliens he’d chased through these woods, only to lose them as the ship took off, the number of zombies, which seemed to keep cropping up, and then there was the werewolf, but you couldn’t call that a clear case of lycanthropy. The snout wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it anyway.

He jumped like he had so many times before and found his footing on a ledge that he didn’t even have to look at anymore as he crossed it. He flew past the creatures, diving to the left, and down an embankment that faced a nearby park where everyone would be out in the open. The hill was edged with a twenty-foot layer of the forest, and on the other side was a park with four baseball fields that all faced each other.

Michael landed at the edge of one of the baseball fields. Was the High School not playing here anymore?

In the middle of centerfield stood Simon in the moonlight. His skin was gray-green, and silvery, glistening with a thin layer of slime that seemed to ooze from his skin and coat it. It glistened. His work shirt was torn, and the overalls were hanging on him. Any shoes he might have been wearing were long gone. Simon now had large and oversized claw feet. His hands, though sharp nails protruded from the fingertips, were deft, and almost delicate. The fingers were long and strong. His muscle structure reminded Michael of a wrestler after a recent fight with a bowl of cocaine, and the teeth just didn’t make any sense. It was almost as if they got wilder and wilder based on how crazed Simon was at the time. He seemed more like a vicious troll than a zombie.

Michael shook off the zombie line and stepped out into the field from the first baseline.

Simon turned around and howled in his direction.

Michael froze, closed his eyes and lowered his arms to his sides.

He imagined the beast calmly returning to him, and Simon recovering enough to come back to the office with him. He was doubtless going to have a call by the time he got back there, and he did not want to miss it, He knew he’d need some help pretty soon.

He stepped forward, and Simon leaped forward, landing right in front of him.

Michael almost stopped breathing, and turned his palms out, allowing Simon to smell him, hoping this was like meeting a dangerous dog.

He wished he had some bubble gum with him. Though cheese would be better.

Simon stepped back and lowered his head once after getting a clear sniff of Michael. He blew a wad of snot and phlegm into Michael’s face, and after a last and final sniff, he blew Michael’s hat off with ribbons of the stuff.

Michael winced but otherwise stood perfectly still. He’d seen a friend of his, Mathers, last year try this same thing with a gargoyle in Central Park, and it had cost him his life, but he needed Simon. He could feel it.

When he opened his eyes, Simon Dunbar was standing in front of him, shivering in the night air.

“How much time?” he asked.

“What?”

“How much time have I been… it?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“Can you help me?”

“I think so. Come on.”

Simon hobbled next to Michael. Maybe the trollish piece of him could slough off the more dangerous elements of the chase, but it hurt later.

Together they walked off the field, and up onto the main street that cuts through the neighborhood, so they could get back to the warehouse.

“Simon, right?”

“That’s me. You’re a janitor at the facility?”

“Yes. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“I know. If it makes it easier, I know all about them. The Sublight Group, I think, right?”

“Yes.”

“I used to work for them. Experiments in dimensional travel. It looks like they were trying to open a portal.”

“They have been doing that a lot lately.”

“What, other portals? That wasn’t the first?”

“No.”

“Does anything ever come out, like this time?”

“Not usually. I’ve seen space, and other planets, strange landscapes, usually it’s just a blue star or something, over a planet covered in trees and grass.”

“Nothing intelligent?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen. Until tonight, the most intelligent thing I’d ever seen was something like a polar bear with a huge central tusk, like a rhino or something like that. It was coming up through its bottom jaw. Well, that’s true for the portals anyway.”

“Was it furry?”

“Yeah, white just like a regular polar bear except for the horn and like a flat double nose. They kept that portal open too long looking at it, the machine’s never worked the same since.”

“Was it erratic, or what?”

“It was just shaky. That’s the best way to describe it. Shaky. It was one of those things, you know?”

“Like what?”

“It’s just a window. It’s a window with the most interesting things in it, the only problem is there’s a thousand-foot drop if you try to climb through it.”

“Deadly?”

“Serious deadly.”

“One step through and it tears you apart anyway. We had a strike team in the facility. They were acting all-important, and stomping around like they owned the place. It was three months ago, they opened the portal, and everyone walked through. We could see them on the other side of it.”

“What happened?”

“When they stepped through, they turned around, and couldn’t see the portal anymore, it just wasn’t on their side at all.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. We sat there and watched them, trying to get them back, but they never saw the portal again. It just wasn’t there on that side. We watched three of them get killed by some kind of pterodactyl, and the other ones, we watched as they stopped breathing. The atmosphere just wasn’t right. It took a long time.”

They turned the corner up towards Michael’s warehouse.

“Do you think you can help?” asked Simon.

“I think I can. I’m not sure. The only thing I’m sure of is that I think I’m going to need you. You were right on that portal, and a piece of you has been changed by it and you survived. Do you remember anything from it?”

“You mean besides the monsters?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I do. They had one on the other side this time.”

“A portal generator?”

“Yeah, and they were looking at us the moment we were looking at them. We both had them turned on at the same time.”

“What are the odds of that?”

“Like a million to nothing,” said Simon. He rubbed his arms.

“You have any clothes at that warehouse of yours?”

“Yeah, I’ve got lots of stuff.”

They entered through the back door. This used to be an old television studio before it closed, there was a small costume room and something like a two-car garage sized area full of rolling racks full of clothes.

“Take your pick. I’m going upstairs to get some coffee going. Pick out two or three things, and a shoulder pack you like. Anything that fits, you are welcome to it.”

Simon nodded.

“We want to make sure you have some options if you bug-out again, so make sure you get shoes as well.”

Simon nodded again, and Michael left him there, alone to look through the clothes.

Simon sat down in the middle of the room and sobbed for a moment on a large oriental rug. As much as he’d seen today, he wondered if the rug might fly should he know the magic word.

He shook it off, and stood up, looking at the racks of clothes. He decided to ditch the over-all look. He picked out a couple of sweatsuits with hoods, a load of underwear and socks, a couple of baseball hats, several pairs of shoes and a cheap suit. There were more expensive-looking suits over there, but this one was comfortable and understated. He put on one of the sweatsuits and noticed the shower room just off the wardrobe here. He availed himself of the showers, and then donned his sweatsuit again, grabbed his shoulder bag, kind of a smart satchel with lots of pockets, and made his way up the stairs to the smell of perfect coffee.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that Mike, then to hell with it,” said Felix as Simon entered the room and sat down.

Simon reeled, not just at the fact that it was a gross and decapitated head sitting there talking, but that there were two of them, and nobody around thought this strange at all.

He was greeted with a cup of coffee, and he noticed that the talking zombie heads on the shelf were sucking their own coffee through straws.

“Where was it going?”

“Simon, these are Felix and Faustus. Don’t be alarmed.”

Felix turned his good eye to Simon. “How’s it going? I hear you transform into some kind of beast.”

“Troll, I think.”

“Right, Troll Man, yeah.” Felix took another sip of coffee. “Crap Mike, that’s hot!” he said, and then burst into hideous laughter. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”

Faustus turned both his eyes, for he still had two, and blinked a friendly hello to Simon, but did not speak.

Simon took the coffee and a cookie or two from the table. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m still working that out, but we don’t have much time. I know there’ll be another pulse soon, and I think we need to get back into town before that happens. We’ve got to do whatever we need to do to shut off that portal, and clear that area. I’ve called in a strike team to surround the facility and keep people from getting too close.”

“What kind of team?”

“An effective team.”

“I think we’re due for a pulse or two before, maybe a micropulse.”

“What’s that?”

“What you’re having now. Take off your shoes.”

Simon was starting to shake.

“Not again!”

He took his shoes off, threw them in his satchel, and then faster than ever, he transformed into the troll-like creature, this time much more smoothly and he looked a lot cleaner, without ripping the clothes. His hair was wild and long but fell back in long black-green locks behind his ears.

He stood there looking at his arms and legs, feeling his hair.

“Michael?”

Michael looked back at him with both eyebrows raised.

“Simon?”

The voice there was normal.

“Is my voice… is it clear?”

“Clear as a bell, my friend.”

He slumped into Michael’s chair, and broke it to pieces, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

“Sorry about that!”

He got up, dusted himself off and looked around.

Felix rolled his eye.

Faustus kept drinking his coffee. One of his eyes was twitching from it. The eyelid had flopped off on the other side, so there was no help there.

Michael pushed over a wooden box, might have had the ark of the covenant in it at some point, and Simon sat on it. It didn’t break.

A great gong sounded in the air.

Simon looked around. “Dinner?”

“No, a phone call.”