Twisted All To Hell

by J E Moore

scooter outside a private consultation office. Two men entered the room via a connecting hallway door and didn't notice Daisy in the lab. A Center official and a doctor were having a lively discussion... "and with today's modern medical techniques we can keep her alive, awake and sitting on display for another thirty to forty years! My associates on the Governing Board are making arrangements for a year-long U.S. tour as we speak. After a few more minor surgeries during next three months we'll be on the road. When the tour's complete we'll begin experimental body part replacements starting with her bad eye and work our way down. Then she'll be ready for an extensive World tour."

  The doctor responded, "Won't all those procedures be overly uncomfortable for her? What about quality of life?"

  To which the Center official stated, "You researchers and doctors have to stay focused on the big picture. The subject will shine as a monumental achievement for the advancement of medicine. It will generate immeasurable revenue. This person alone will fund us for the next hundred years. They then entered into Daisy's lab where she pretended to be asleep with her chin resting on her chest.

  That night, there occurred a fierce lightning storm but it didn't keep her awake. She didn't believe she could ever sleep again after what she had heard unless they knocked her out with drugs... or even better - if lucky, would never wake up.

  Eventually Monday came and after more scans and blood-letting her usual escort arrived, who was unaware of Friday night's storm. "Up we go. Let's see what's happening at the top of the world." They exited onto the rooftop as before but this time it seemed different. The patrons were gathered in the southern half of the terrace, perhaps there was a cleaning crew or some other maintenance ongoing in the north-side. The guide made her rounds of social mingling but didn't ask questions: these upper level employees disliked any questioning of their actions, even by something as simple as, "Why are you here and not there today?" In passing, a food and drink service attendant informed her not to go into the south-side due to the damage caused by the lightning storm. Daisy's escort's interest became peaked and mumbled, "Not again," and then both of them under her direction ventured into the quarantined area.

  Addressing her charge, "Damn, I can't believe this," remarked the guide. "Another lightning strike directly on the outside wall. I've been working here fifteen years and these so-called brainiacs can't install a proper lightning rod. This happens every year, sometimes twice. See that blown-out section in the plexi-glass wall? The reason it happens is because the panels are separated by steel beams which are anchored into more steel rods embedded in the flooring concrete. Which means this rooftop garden is surrounded by a man-made, dumb-ass lightning-seeking metallic grid! You'd think after all these years these big shots could figure out to install a single, grounded pole on the top of the building. But then again, I've heard more than once that most of them can't even remember where the dang restroom is. Yes, it's true! I have a friend who actually takes people to the cafeteria then has to lead them to the toilet. I guess Genius and Dementia are kissing cousins. " She laughed, "It's like the old 1950's Bell Labs all over again."

  Daisy eyed the five-foot blown out section of the restraining wall and flimsy plastic warning ribbon. The debris had been removed; the floor was smooth and clear which meant a repair crew would be arriving soon. Daisy's escort's back was turned to her. The scooter's running motor was quiet. She pressed the Go sensor and held her finger on it. The vehicle was slow at first but steadily gained speed. The prisoner of time experimentation had travelled halfway to the missing wall section before her guide realized it. The startled woman called out, "Daisy, slow down or you'll flip over..." then saw the crevice she was headed toward. The lady's mouth dropped and her eyes bulged. "Oh, no," and started to run after her.

  Daisy: closing the gap to the missing wall section - closing, closing... the escort screaming. The beginning of a smile formed on the right side of her face. Everyone was now watching, yet none moved. Her scooter didn't travel fast but neither does a pursuing old woman.

  Going as fast as she could, a hard bump to the wheels due to a three inch jagged ridge at the wall's edge caused Daisy and her scooter to become separated. She was thrown forward - ten feet away from her heavy transport which toppled over the building's side and dropped like a rock. Daisy felt as if she were flying. "The air feels so good," she thought as it whipped through her white wisps of hair. Her face crinkled in delight. "'Til death do us part, you bastards!"

  One year later

  Daisy sat at her kitchen table with her three best friends, neighbors from adjacent farms. She had a pleasant smile and held a tea cup aloft as if she were making a toast to another glorious morning. The Ripley's Believe It or Not! tour guide touted," And here we have Daisy Hawkins, the oldest person to live on the face of Earth... heh, heh, excluding Bible versions, of course," which generated a few wry smirks. "She was born in rural North Carolina on July 5, 1895 and lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and seventy-two and never had an ache or pain during her entire life. It appears the adage about hard work being good for you could be true... I guess I'm going to die young because I stay away from it as much as I can!" Light laughter. Directing his pointer, "This 1930 farm house typifies the wonderful life she enjoyed. It's rumored she was married once... or was it her being a spinster?" More laughter. "Neither version has been confirmed because back in the good old days, them county folk weren't big on records. Either way though, one thing was certain: Our girl Daisy was loved by all for her community devotion and friendly, caring manner. She relished being in the company of people, was a true friend and valued public servant! Don't you wish we could experience some of Daisy's long happiness? Now folks, moving on to our next exhibit."

  A mother and her seven-year old daughter who was carrying a tiny puppy in a blanket stopped to view the display. The young dog whimpered and buried its head. The little girl frowned, "Mommy, the lady looks angry to me."

  "Don't be silly child. See the smile (wired) in the corner of her mouth?" she returned.

  "It's her eyes, Mommy. They look mean."

  "Nonsense, dear. They're not real; they're made of glass," which was true. The only original part of Daisy was her rebuilt skull. The body they were viewing was similar to a taxidermist's reconstructed trophy fish. The child turned her face away, hugged the puppy and tucked in behind the other departing sightseers.

  Was Daisy's tormented spirit still alive and trapped inside her mummified head? Children and animals can sense these things.

  The end

  Reset

  Somewhere in the not too distant future...

  John was driving home from Walgreen's where he had just purchased an 8-pack of decorative, battery powered lawn solar lights to spruce-up his and Joyce's (his wife) small, two bedroom, one bath home located within a pleasant community mix of working families and a few scattered retirees, they being the latter. As he approached on their peaceful residential street he could clearly see a dusty, white panel truck with no side marking backed into their single car driveway... and the garage door was open!

  "What the?" he muttered. Joyce was at her usual Wednesday morning Women's Club meeting and no one else had access to their house. He reduced his speed and passed by as his eyes scanned every angle around their dwelling - there was no outside activity. John then drove a half block further, made a U-turn, came back and parked in front of Bob's, a neighbor, located three houses to his right on the same side of the street. He exited his car ever so slowly with his vision focused squarely on his own residence. There had been four burglaries in their hundred-plus unit complex during the last two months and it didn't take a whole lot of smarts to figure out what was going down right now! The local police had informed the Home Owners Association Crime Watch members of which he was one, these thieves were thorough and very fast. John would have called 911 at first sight but had left his cell phone charging in the kitchen this morning. "Damn... just when you need it the most!" He knew Bob was home since he worked the even
ing shift on the receiving dock at Publix and had a regular telephone land line. Softly, he 'knocked' and rang the doorbell. Again... and again. No response. "Crap, I forgot the guy sleeps like a rock. He won't be up until noon and I can't take a chance of beating on his bedroom window and spooking the robbers. Besides, this is a great opportunity for the police to catch these crooks red-handed."

  John mulled over his options. "Everyone else is at work except Jimmy, that senile old man across the street. He's been retired three times longer than Joyce and I put together." Then for no apparent reason the Grand Plan popped in his brain. "Why, I think I can do it. Yes, I know I can do it. I'm a military vet and in pretty good shape for a seventy-year old. Everyone knows that The element of Surprise is everything! Aha. I'll sneak in the garage while they're inside looting our valuables and grab my trusty pistol I keep covered on top of my treadmill control panel. I'll get the drop on them easy when they come out to load up the van." He smiled, "Yes, sir. I'll be the Hero of the neighborhood."

  The soon-to-be hero began making his way between the houses using great stealth until he came to the outside wall of his own