Ham Taylor: Lost In Time!

by J.P Jackson

  Taylor lay in a dank corner, a moist burlap sack over his head and a thick rope binding the wrists behind his back. He dreamt of a force dragging him to the bottom of a black ocean, pressure increasing, his life fading along with the surface light.

  He opened his eyes, saw the dark and felt the sack against his face. When panic knocked on his door, Taylor had a vision of himself sinking to the bottom of the Clyde, of being alone, of drowning. He breathed, he focused, and the panic receded.

  Coherent thoughts formed and Taylor recalled the memory of some unknown bastard taking a long, thick piss on his head. The icy atmosphere was enough to bring about hypothermia. Unable to bear the smell of piss or his bondage for one moment longer, Taylor fumbled to his knees, threw his head forward and pinned the tip of the sack between his legs.

  "Fuck,” he groaned, pulling it off his face.

  He sat back, feeling a gooey mess soaking through his jeans. There was enough light in the room to make out the dismembered body parts draped about him. Still shirtless, Taylor hustled to maneuver his wrists under his ass, under his heels and onto his lap. The rope was surprisingly loose, with a childlike knot that Taylor unraveled in seconds.

  "What else?" he asked himself, cracking his knuckles and rubbing his wrists. He swiped his thumb across the torch display and was amazed when the aqua light began to glow. A rattling came from within the device but it appeared to be functional. The power gauge still sat at 1% and the audio log was ready to record.

  Taylor exhaled with relief and clutched the torch to his chest. That 1%, no matter how small a figure or remote the chances, was his lifeline to the future, and Penelope.

  He stood, shone the light around and immediately wished he hadn't. Body parts, some human, some animal, were stacked in the corners of the room. Stagnant liquid flooded the floor and chunks of viscera decorated the walls. The architecture was metallic and functional, there was a hatch-like door to the side, a black observation window and a metal table with chairs underneath. Taylor fought off dry heaves as he faced the window, studying his haggard reflection in the glass.

  Light left the torch and the moment the room went dark, Taylor heard the hatch begin to slide open. He fell back to his corner, squashing withered dead things and readying himself for God knows what.

  Several seconds later, the hatch screeched inward and light blasted down from the ceiling. Taylor dropped for cover, shielding his eyes with the torch.

  "Do not be afraid,” said a lanky silhouette. “We do not have a lot of time together."

  The soft spoken creature entered the room and pulled a chair from the table. “Let us talk.”

  When Taylor's eyes acclimatized to the powerful light, he was startled by the blood covering the floor and staining his skin. He rubbed his hands against his jeans but the blood wouldn't budge. It was everywhere.

  "Bloody animals!”

  The hatch slammed shut yet the overhead light remained, leaving Taylor alone with the yellow bird.

  "Come," the alien offered, extending his leathery hand to the opposite chair.

  The bird was dressed in regal green robes with hanging tassels trailing in the gore. As he took his seat, his cold black eyes examined Taylor as if squinting through a microscope. Taylor stood opposite him, clenching his fists. The bird sighed.

  "Violence I understand, is innate to your kind. I advise you work past this instinct. It will only get you killed."

  Taylor smiled thinly, kicking a slippery organ near his foot. “Excuse me for getting the wrong impression. Your English is very good.”

  The bird nodded, crossing his fingers over the table. “My species, the Jackanine, are masters of language. I am skilled enough to interpret your tongue.”

  The bird glanced down, then averted his eyes from the blood soaking his robes. "There was a time when my people could not comprehend, never mind be capable of such savagery. I often wonder if it is too late to save us."

  "Save you?”

  "A story for another time. Please, sit.”

  Taylor pulled back the chair and sat face to face with the alien.

  "Interrogation?" he asked, and the bird tipped its head.

  "I am hoping our encounter will be a civil one. You have nothing to fear from me. I am not the one in charge.”

  "The lion,” Taylor said, meeting the bird's eye. “Who is he?”

  "General Apophis has generously allowed me the opportunity to question you. If you fail to answer my questions in a prompt and satisfactory manner, the general will relieve me and you will become a part of the floor.”

  Taylor leaned closer. “What crime have I been accused of?”

  The bird glanced nervously at the window, then back to Taylor.

  "Time is of the essence," he resumed. "You are being held because you are a man unlike all others, a man from another time. The general requires information, and the more I learn the longer you will live. I am here to help you.”

  Taylor was curious yet remained on guard. “I watched you ordering slaves to be beaten and dragged from their families.”

  The bird raised his hand in protest. “Those men who lash the flesh from their own kind are no friends of mine. My job regarding the seed was accountancy based, cycle counts and inventory management, to which I overlooked many discrepancies. My manipulation of data saved many human lives.”

  The bird's sincerity caused Taylor to rethink his natural cynicism.

  "Why would you help me?”

  The bird reached forward and tapped his claw against Taylor's torch. “A conqueror of time deserves respect. The device, are you its creator?"

  "Partially, I invented the time machine and my friend Karl Lanza created this.” Taylor motioned towards the torch.

  "Remarkable,” the bird added, studying the torch. “Many species have discovered time travel but none have made it so...portable. Ingenious, may I?"

  Taylor slid his hands from the table. “What does the general want from me? What does he want from my planet?”

  The bird ignored Taylor's questions. “Tell me your name, and when in time you hail from?"

  Seeing no harm in the question, and hoping to find his own answers, Taylor played along. "Name's Ham Taylor, circa 21st century."

  The bird leaned back, stroking long fingers over his beak. "Fascinating. Never would I have thought Earthlings could be capable of such feats as soon as that. How extraordinary, and how very dangerous."

  The alien cordially raised his palms. "Forgive my assumption but Earthlings are not known for their intelligence, in fact I have to temporarily lower my own intelligence quotient to communicate with you now.”

  The bird crept closer, whispering. “The only trouble I am having is trying to decipher your particular regional dialect."

  "It's Glaswegian, and yer aff yer nut."

  "A formal introduction,” the bird mumbled. “Proper protocols should be maintained.” After clearing his throat, the bird extended his lanky hand. “I am a Yellow Jackanine, Secretary General of the Jackanine Council. I hail from Planet Nido, located in the Sirius Star System approximately 8.6 light years from Earth. We are galactic neighbours, Ham Taylor."

  "Yellow Jack,” Taylor exhaled, folding his arms. "Who the hell is Apophis?"

  Yellow Jack brought his hands to his chest and wrung his fingers. "The less you know of Apophis, the better.”

  The bird glanced again at the window, as if he could sense a looming deadline. “What is human civilization like in your 21st century?"

  "Dirty,” Taylor returned, without hesitation. “Corrupt.”

  The bird nodded, as if unsurprised. “On my travels I have yet to encounter a civilization free from corruption. No matter which political system a society adheres to, in the end, one group comes to dominate all others.”

  Both paused to reflect, before Jack asked his final question. “Ham Taylor, I understand the power that brought you here, but cannot fathom your intentions. Why travel 4,500 years into your past? This
is very curious to me."

  Forty five hundred years. The figure struck Taylor like a thunderbolt. Yellow Jack continued to talk while Taylor's thoughts circled a black hole. He repeated the number over and over in his head but the thought wouldn't fortify.

  "It was a mistake," he mumbled, gripping the corners of the table.

  Arrogance caused Taylor to adjust Lanza's preset coordinates, but such a monumental error was more than a drunken miscalculation. He knew something more was at play to throw him 4,500 years off course.

  "A bloody stupid accident."

  Yellow Jack looked over his shoulder, then hurriedly whispered: "Mistake...or providence?"

  The hatch creaked, causing man and bird to jolt from their chairs. Yellow Jack adjusted his robes while Taylor pressed his back against the wall.

  The hatch squealed as it opened. General Apophis filled the frame, a mass of rippling muscles, hair and teeth.

  Yellow Jack lowered his head as he approached his master, communicating in gestures, clicks and squawks. Taylor felt his knees wobble as the lion stomped into the room, his every step like the crack of a whip.

  Taylor eyed the open hatch and thought of running, but thought again when he saw the lion's jagged claws. Apophis took a seat and Yellow Jack positioned himself behind his right shoulder, chin up and hands locked behind his back. The Jackanine's tone had shifted, no longer sincere and patient, but stern and tense.

  "Come closer Ham Taylor,” he began, again offering Taylor the opposite chair.

  Taylor sat, placed his hands flat on the table and the lion's foul breath made his eyes water. His heart pounded but for the first time, no light left the torch.

  The lion's predator eyes scowled and Taylor averted his own and waited for instruction. When the lion spoke, it was a low and guttural language unpleasant to the ear. Jack translated the grunts and growls.

  "General Apophis refuses to believe that Earthlings possess the power of time travel. He says you are a weak-minded species bred for slavery and incapable of such technical feats. He insists you are a liar, Ham Taylor, and demands an immediate confession. One that will reinforce this opinion."

  Apophis placed his chunky paws on the surface of the table, claws scraping the tabletop.

  "He is waiting," Jack insisted. “Do not make him wait...for your sake.”

  Taylor clenched his teeth as internally, his mother's good sense tried to contain his father's bad temper. He peered up at the lion, noticing a spot of blood on his teeth.

  "Threats bring my piss to a boil. This lion scum killed my friend. Ate his fucking tongue out."

  "The tongue is a delicacy in Pride culture.”

  "I don't give a shit about your customs,” Taylor loudly exclaimed. “And yeah, inform the general that I am a conqueror of time, and that my people are smarter than he thinks. You just wait and see what I'm capable of.”

  Yellow Jack raised his hand, caught in the middle, pleading for diplomacy. “This information is not something you wish me to translate."

  Taylor turned his glance back to Apophis when suddenly, the lion snatched the top of his scalp and brought his face down onto the table. Taylor's nose snapped sideways, blood shot out from his mouth and one of his teeth skittered over the table.

  "General Apophis will no longer tolerate the scrutiny of a slave's eye,” Jack said, his voice quivering. “Gaze only at the table."

  Tears streamed down Taylor's cheeks and blood dropped freely from his nose. The pain came in waves and Apophis leaned closer, as if to enjoy every miserable contortion of Taylor's face.

  "The general senses a lack of disrespect,” Jack added. “The general demands to know if you are an enemy to him, his kin, and his mission?”

  "I'm no friend," Taylor returned, tonguing the gap where his tooth used to be. “Guess I'll be chewing with the other side from now on.”

  Yellow Jack hesitated, seeming to wrestle with some inner conflict. He was brought out of these thoughts by the general’s following question.

  "General Apophis insists you are a trickster and conjuror of lies. He demands that you reveal your magic. I strongly advise you to give me any information that might save your life."

  Taylor took a moment, nodding to himself several times before confessing to his crime.

  "I am a magician," he confirmed, placing his hands together. Adjusting his fingers, Taylor magically pulled the tip of his thumb from his right hand.

  "Abracadabra, alakazam, and all that shite.”

  Yellow Jack covered his eyes as Taylor, sporting a smirk, returned both palms to the table. Apophis leaned in, grinning from the corner of his large mouth as he flicked a claw into the end of Taylor's left pinkie, slicing it off at the bone.

  Taylor shrieked and fell over, pressing the bleeding hand against his stomach. Apophis picked up the severed pinkie and threw it into his mouth like a peanut.

  Yellow Jack rushed to Taylor's side. "Forgive me!” he cried. “This is not who we are. We are better than this.”

  Apophis returned to the hatch, waving in two other Jackanine - one red, one blue - each gripping the handles of a sturdy metal bucket. The bucket itself was filled with porridge-like fluid which slopped over the sides when they set it down.

  Apophis snarled at the hatch as he observed Yellow Jack attending to Taylor. Roaring, he lunged forward and pierced his claws into Jack's shoulder. Apophis then dragged the bird kicking and squawking out of the interrogation room.

  The remaining Jackanine worked fast over Taylor, as if dealing with hazardous materials. The blue Jackanine pulled a set of tongs from his belt while his colleague in red gripped Taylor by the neck.

  "Get off!” he yelled, but the creature's hold was unbreakable.

  The blue alien dipped the tongs into the bucket, clutching at something inside.

  The red Jack' pressed Taylor's face to the floor, and with a firm grip on the tongs, the blue Jack' covered his mouth and removed a dripping, translucent organism from the bucket.

  It resembled a limp jellyfish, but its curtain of dangling tentacles sprung to life the closer it got to Taylor's head. Thin, gelatinous filaments reached out for his skull, as if in desire.

  The blue Jack' retched then sprung back as it released the thing over Taylor's head. His colleague scrambled to the hatch as the organism clung to Taylor, interweaving it's squirming arms around Taylor's skull, sliding it's tentacles into the corners of his eyes and entering through his ears, up his nostrils and spreading into the back of his throat. Taylor writhed on his side, gargling as the organism pulsed at the back of his head. Its slimy body expanded, the parasite feeding upon Taylor to create an ovoid egg within it's translucent flesh.

  The red Jack' moved in, pulling a knife from his belt, which he used to create an incision down the centre of the organism. The blue Jack bent to part the creature's flesh and tugged a vein riddled egg from within the parasite. In one smooth motion, the Jackanine placed the newly generated egg carefully into the bucket and hauled it out of the room.

  The hatch slammed shut and the lights went out. Not for the first time, Taylor embraced the dark, hardly expecting to ever see the light again.

 

  — CHAPTER THIRTEEN —