by Steve Lang
"Hey Devon, want a lift home? I'm parked out back in the student lot."
"Uh, sure man. That would be great. I hate riding the bus anyway."
"OK, but you gotta promise to loosen up. You're like an oil drum man...tight, sealed up. You're way too stiff for your own good, brother. But don’t worry; we're going to take care of that. I've got something planned I think you'll like." Dan said.
We were walking to the car when he told me about the human skulls and how much money we could make from just one of them. I was pretty freaked out by the conversation, but there was something in what he was saying that made sense. I had never thought of becoming a grave robber before, but there seemed to be something exhilarating about desecrating a grave. I wasn’t convinced, but I was enchanted.
"Look, these people don't need their skulls anyway. They're dead, right?" Dan said.
"Yeah, sure. But it just seems kind of wrong. You know?"
We walked to his car a candy apple red 1969 Dodge Charger.
"Hop in bro, and we'll be on our way." Dan smiled.
"Nice ride, is this yours?"
"Hell yeah! Restored her myself, and had a guy in Mechanicsburg put the paint job on. Pretty sweet, huh?"
I nodded and got in on the passenger side which was littered with empty Camel cigarette flip-top boxes. Dan fired up the engine and as his car roared to life, like a hound from Hell, he lit one up.
"Smoke?" Dan asked.
"No thanks, I don't touch em'."
Dan shook his head slowly from side to side.
"Brother, we are going to work your demons free and get you loose."
He didn’t know that I had an asthmatic condition, and cigarette smoke exacerbated it. Besides, those things were slow death one stick at a time. I didn't bother to explain any of that to Dan. My mother was a heavy smoker for years, and what I've found is that smokers can get defensive about their addiction, so it’s an invitation for trouble to tell them they are killing themselves, and how everyone has to breathe in their unfiltered smoke. The seats were new black leather, his dash immaculate and completely restored, and he had a chrome skull shift ball with red eyes that lit up. Neat car. I wasn’t too sure about the driver, on the other hand. I was about to find out just how disturbed my new friend really was. Later, at my trial, witnesses would testify they never saw me get into a candy apple red Dodge Charger that day after school.
"So, here's the deal. We're going out tonight on a little caper to get PAID!" Dan said.
"My Mom isn't going to let me..."
"Your mom is at work tonight and your dad is out of town, right?"
I don’t know how he knew this. I should have gotten out of the car and never spoken to him again. But that’s not what I did. I had never been adventurous, nor had I left the house for anything more than brief trips to the grocery store, or out to dinner with my parents. I figured that having a cool friend with an awesome car was going to turn my fortune around at school. I had the feeling that people were finally going to notice me.
"What time are we doing it?" I asked.
"Well, it’s Friday night, so how about midnight? I'll pick you up at your house."
"Do I need to bring anything? Shovel, pick?"
"I got you bro. I'm bringing bolt cutters and a crow bar. If we need a shovel for anything, we're already doing more work than we need to. Besides, have you ever dug down to a coffin with a shovel? We'd be there all night, and the object is not to get busted by the cops for grave robbing." Dan explained.
"Gotcha, I'll be ready."
He pulled up to my house and I got out of the car.
"See you tonight, man. This is going to be exciting!" Dan said.
I walked up my driveway, and as I turned to wave his car was already gone. I don’t remember hearing the sound of his car rumble down the street, and the street actually was empty in both directions. For the rest of the afternoon I tried to make sense of that disappearing act, but it was tough. A car does not simply vanish into thin air, especially one with as loud an engine as Dan's car had. I was beginning to get nervous about this plan of Dan's, and I thought about calling it off several times, but I didn't have his number. There were not many times in my adolescence where I needed a parent home, but this night was one of them. I felt alone, like I was about to strike a deal with the Devil and the saints weren't watching. Intuition is a funny thing, and if you listen to the suggestion of that inner voice, you may just avoid an unforeseen catastrophe. I ignored every instinct to tell Dan no. Instead, I waited anxiously for him to arrive at my house.
It was eleven fifty-nine p.m. when I heard the roar of Dan's engine and winced at the glare of his headlights illuminating my dark living room wall. I took a deep breath and walked outside to meet Dan. From the brightness it was impossible to see him sitting inside the car, but when I got in on the passenger side, Dan was in the driver’s seat. His head was covered in a black wharf fisherman's cap, and his face was almost obscured by one of those thin face masks that have a skull print on them. All that was visible was his eyes. His appearance was frightening, and I felt like I was riding in a car with the undead.
"Hey bro, where's your mask? You got anything to cover your face?" Dan asked.
"What? No, you never mentioned I'd need one?" I was trying to remain calm.
"Here, put this on." He tossed a ski mask over to me.
I put the mask over my head and it smelled like mothballs.
"This thing stinks!" I said.
"Quit bitching, man! That thing was in the bottom of a trunk two hours ago. You should just be glad I brought you anything at all. Don't you know these places have cameras in them now? The good cemeteries, anyway." Dan said.
"Well, then why are we going to the good cemeteries?" It felt like a stupid question.
"More above ground graves and mausoleums. Rich people love to be seen even after death." Dan replied.
It seemed like a reasonable explanation. Dan and I drove without conversing for some time as we listened to his collection of heavy metal music, and I tried to calm my nerves. I felt like I was living in a surreal dream world, not yet sure if it would turn out to be a nightmare. But I had feeling it would. Dan drove us out into the country where there were no street lights, and everyone who would have cared was sound asleep. We flew down one back road, and then another, winding our way toward destiny. After about fifteen minutes and just as I was beginning to think that he was just going to dump me out on a country road, we were there. Just before he cut the headlights I noticed a large wrought iron gate with stamped metal angels hovering above it.
"Here we go, Devon. Toward the back of this stone garden is a big mausoleum with a lock on the gate. We’ll break into that one." He produced a set of bolt cutters from his bag.
The skull imprint of his mask grinned at me every time he turned my way and I got the impression that I had befriended the grim reaper. Our only guide was faint moonlight, so we quickly hopped the fence and sidestepped the ocean of tombstones in the darkness. I saw a large black object rising out of the blackness and realized that it was our target. The mausoleum looked like an ancient Grecian structure with high granite walls, ornate columns, and decorative stone gargoyles on each corner of the roof.
"Gargoyles are supposed to keep out evil spirits, you know." I mentioned.
Dan didn't seem to hear me, and cut the padlock. The large steel gate swung open on creaking, ancient hinges. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as we crept inside. Inside the tomb was a large concrete crypt with a heavy granite lid. Dan pried the top with the crowbar until he could push it aside with his feet on the lid and his back against the wall.
"You could help, you know?" Dan muttered.
I had been standing there like a statue, still not sure whether I wanted to be there. His words snapped me out of my hypnosis and helped him push the lid over.
"Push it the whole way off, onto the floor. We probably won't be noticed this far back, but sometimes the cemetery has a night watchman
drive through here just to check on things. We’ll need to move faster." Dan said.
With another good kick, the lid hit the floor with a loud thunk and we were staring at an extremely old coffin.
"The guy in here has been dead since before the Civil War. Let's let him out to breath shall we?" Dan said.
He opened the lid and the horrible odor of something old and rotten rose from the corpse. I turned my head out of revulsion.
"Man up and grab that head!" Dan laughed.
He had a cloth sack open in his hands, and as I took hold of the corpse's head I lifted, cringing as a ripping sound, almost like cloth tearing, was uttered from the body, making my stomach turn. What was I doing? I put the skull in his bag and we ran out. I looked back over my shoulder once more, and noticed that the gargoyles were gone. Had the gargoyles ever been there? I didn’t know. We dashed back to his car, and before I closed the door Dan was hitting the gas, and laughing like he had just heard the best joke of the year. He spun his wheels, kicked up a cloud of dirt and rocks, and we flew off into the night.
"You did it, brother! I thought you were going to bitch out, but you did it!" Dan yelled.
His eyes gleamed a red glow when he turned to face me, but I was probably just imagining that, I thought.
"We got the skuuuuuull!" Dan sang.
Something hit the roof of his car and he stopped singing.
"Uh oh, we may have been noticed." Dan said, the demeanor of his voice changing dramatically.
For the first time since we met, he seemed nervous. There came another strike onto his roof and this time a large hole was torn into the metal. One more after that, and his roof peeled back like a tin can. Dan was screaming and swerving all over the road now. I looked over at him and realized that I was screaming, too, as a stone gargoyle landed on the edge of his windshield. Another one landed on my side, and then there were two more hovering above us. How they could move, I had no idea.
"Damien, you're up to your old tricks again, I see." A gargoyle growled.
"We were just passing through man, no need to get bent out of shape. Take the skull. Hey, we don't even need it. Devon, give them the bag." Dan said.
"We will be returning the skull, and you're going back to Hell where you came from!"
Two of the gargoyles snatched Dan out of his seat and flew away into the darkness.
"You've been a bad boy, Devon. You'll have to pay for this desecration." The gargoyle said.
I was terrified beyond the ability to respond and blacked out. When I woke up, I discovered that I had been tied up and bound to the top of the coffin inside the crypt we had just robbed. I look up and saw that there were blue lights flashing outside. A police officer was shining his beam in my eyes and telling me not to move. I almost began laughing hysterically at this. I never saw Dan again, and had to stand trial for grave robbing without an accomplice, but for the first time in my life I felt alive and noticed.
SOmewhere in time
Richard Price is an average test pilot for experimental aircraft, but he is about
experience the mission of a lifetime.
Richard Price had been a pilot for ten years in the United States Air Force, and had an exemplary career as a flyer. Occasionally, aircraft manufacturers would ask experienced pilots to test their prototypes before production began on the real thing. Richard had only bailed out once during a test, due to problems with the right engine on an aircraft that was so new it didn’t have an official name. Not a name he was told about, anyway.
Richard had been testing the altitude limits of his latest project when an engine compressor bolt snapped and pieces of it were sucked into the turbine. This resulted in catastrophic engine failure at fifty-five thousand feet, and a dangerous fire. He cut the engine and began to spin out of control. Before high G’s knocked him unconscious, Richard pulled back on the stick and turned into the rotation. Flames grew larger outside his window, and after he regained control of his craft, there was no other option than to eject.
The fuel tanks burst into explosive flames just an instant after ejecting. With baited breath, he watched his aircraft plummet into a lake. Richard had just survived one of the worst accidents in the history of his base, and after a forensic investigation it was determined that the mechanic working on the failed engine had been up for over twenty-four hours and forgot to safely wire the compressor bolt in place.
With the confidence of his superiors, Richard tested more aircraft, so it was no surprise when he was called into General Franklin Pierce’s office for a briefing pertaining to an upcoming assignment.
"General, you wanted to see me?" Richard said, saluting.
"Come on in, Colonel Price. Have a seat." Pierce said.
Richard walked into his office as the General finished typing a few sentences on his computer. The room smelled like coffee, mixed with an aroma of expensive office furniture. Books on military history and aircraft filled a bookshelf behind the General’s desk. Richard took a seat opposite of the desk.
"Colonel Price, we have an assignment I think you might be very interested in. Forgive me for being personal, but you are still single? And no children, right?" Pierce asked.
"No sir. I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it yet." Richard said. The General favored him with a stern gaze and nodded.
"We’re taking a drive over to hangar twenty-one. There's something in there you need to see." Pierce said.
Richard followed the General to his jeep where an airman was waiting to drive them down to the flight line. When they arrived, the hangar was closed and two Security Police were stationed out front, armed with standard AR15's. Richard and General Pierce exited the vehicle, had their line badges checked, and entered the building. Hangar lights clicked on with a low buzz, and in the center, hovering unaided was a large metallic disk.
"Want to see the stars?" General Pierce asked.
Richard was breathless, and exhilarated at the thought of traversing the stars in a space ship.
"What is this, sir? It's beautiful. I mean, am I going to get to fly that?"
"More than fly it, you're going to go, and I hate to quote Gene Rodenberry, where no man has gone before." Pierce said.
"Are there coordinates of any kind sir?" Richard asked.
"I've got the presentation set up over here in the briefing room."
Richard followed General Pierce to a small classified room on the far end of the hangar which held a conference desk and chair, a sixty-inch flat screen, and a laptop computer displaying images of outer space.
"This is it, Colonel. The reason why I brought you here. Take a look at that TV and tell me what you see."
Richard leaned closer to the screen, and after a moment he saw an anomaly. The stars shimmered in a strange pattern, and their lights wavered just enough to see that something very large was there, disrupting the image.
"It looks like a massive cloudy donut ring turned on its side."
"It's a rift in space-time, Richard. We think it may be a doorway to another dimension. We don't know for sure though, not right now anyway."
"How'd you find it, General?" Richard asked.
"We lost some cell phone satellites a few weeks ago, and after about ten thousand customers called in to complain, the phone companies got their engineers in the satellites looking into it. This anomaly, or rift, wasn't here only four months ago; we cross-referenced our images with their older ones, and although we tried tracking the satellite’s homing beacon we lost all communication with it."
"And you want me to find out where they went." Richard said.
"That's about the size of it. What do you think? This could be one hell of an adventure." Pierce said.
"Is that ship ready for this sort of thing? I mean, I've never seen anything like it. Has it ever been outside the planet?"
"Yeah, she'll fly. We reengineered the craft that crashed in Roswell about fifty years ago."
"That was real, huh?"
"You've heard all the myt
hs. I know you've seen them when you're flying around up there. Now, we have them too. You'd be amazed at what we've accomplished in the last fifty years if you had the security clearance to hear it. I'm not even high enough to hear the really good stuff."
Richard nodded.
"OK General, when do I leave?"
"Right now. Look, we have no idea how long this rift is going to remain open, and there are some people with a lot of money who are curious about where this white rabbit trail leads. There's one other thing. We also lost a pilot three weeks ago, Richard. Lt. Colonel Moira Suthers was assigned the task of going through the rift, and was instructed to come back and tell us what she found. As soon as she went through we lost radio communication. Haven't heard a peep from her since."
"And you want me to go find her." Richard said.
"You're one of the best pilots we have. You've seen combat, and I believe you're the right man for the job." General Pierce said.
"I also don't have anyone back here who'll miss me if something should happen, right?" Richard asked.
"I wasn't going to put it quite like that, but obviously that’s something the United States Air Force considers when recommending personnel for these types of missions, which is why I asked you previously."
"Let's go. I'm ready now." Richard said.
His pulse quickened at the thought of going through the rift. He felt like a sixteen year old kid who had just been handed the keys to a Lamborghini, and told to hit the gas pedal.
"You'll be wearing one of these protective suits." The General pointed to a rack holding a white one-piece suit with the American flag stitched on the left shoulder, but this suit was slender, not bulky like in previous space missions. "I'm sure you'll never need it, but in the event that something happens, it'll protect you from the zero temperature of space. We're also providing you with enough emergency oxygen to last for seven days."
Beside the suit was a white backpack with a hose protruding from the side.
"Does the Air Force know I’m not an astronaut?" Richard asked.
