Evolution Z (Book 1): Stage One

by David Bourne

  Evolution Z

  Stage One

  David Bourne

  Translator: Frank Dietz

  Copyright © 2016 David Bourne

  Editor: Pamela Bruce

  Cover design: Sarah Schmiemann

  All rights reserved, including that of complete or partial reproduction in any form.

  ISBN-13: 978-1540355058

  ISBN-10: 1540355055

  --

  Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. Some of the names and geographical locations in this book are products of the author’s imagination, and do not necessarily correspond with reality.

  Davidbournebooks@gmail.com

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  Thank-you and Bonus

  Dear reader,

  It means a great deal to me that you chose my book. As a thank-you, I would like to give you the opportunity to join my VIP Reader Club. One click ensures that you will receive all the news and updates about my books and new publications, current offers and discounts.

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  Sincerely,

  David Bourne

  For all people who believe in the truth of their dreams

  Table of contents

  Preface

  Ray (1)

  Scott (2)

  Josh (3)

  Josh (4)

  Ray (5)

  Ray (6)

  Scott (7)

  Scott (8)

  Ray (9)

  Ray (10)

  Josh (11)

  Josh (12)

  Scott (13)

  Ray (14)

  Ray (15)

  Scott (16)

  Ray (17)

  Ray (18)

  Josh (19)

  Ray (20)

  Ray (21)

  Scott (22)

  Scott (23)

  Ray (24)

  Josh (25)

  Josh (26)

  The Group (27)

  The Group (28)

  Uncertainty

  Thank-you and Bonus

  You live and learn –

  the key note of the entire evolution.

  Only through countless, infinitely repeated painful

  experiences do individuals learn to master their lives. Everything is a school.

  Christian Morgenstern

  Preface

  The two men looked at each other, and both felt this might be the breakthrough. Nobody said a word. Then they looked again through the Plexiglas window of the lab and also followed the display on the wall-mounted flat screen monitor. It really looked very promising. In spite of this, they still remained silent. They had experienced too many stable test phases that had ended in failure. The two men had been certain countless times before they had finally found the solution, but were thwarted yet again and had to start over from scratch. If they had learned one thing over the previous years, it was not to get excited too soon.

  Yet today was different. The values were amazingly good, almost in the ideal range—only the temperature seemed a bit high. The taller of the two men cleared his throat. “I think...”

  The angry look of the shorter man made him fall silent. The taller one kept staring through the Plexiglas screen. After about fifteen minutes, a message appeared on the monitor:

  REN completed.

  A smile appeared on the faces of both the men. “We have to make a phone call,” said the shorter one.

  Ray (1)

  While Ray Thompson was screwing the attractive new flight attendant for the second time this Saturday evening, he got a bit dizzy. He wasn’t sure whether the reason was the bottle of Jack Daniels they had emptied together, or the fact she rode him like a damned bull at a rodeo. Her pelvis lustily pushed up and down with the regularity of a metronome and drove him crazy. His stomach churned again, and he still could not say for sure if it was due to the alcohol or this semi-rape. “FUCK ME!” Cathy yelled at him. “FUCK ME, CAPTAIN THOMPSON!”

  What do you think I am doing right now?, Ray thought. After a short discussion between his stomach and himself as to whether he should barf or come, horniness won out and he decided on option B.

  While Cathy was freshening up in the bathroom, Ray looked out the window. They had been working together for only a month, and sleeping with each other for almost as long. Still groggy from the whiskey he looked at the sign of the Waterloo Intercontinental, the airport hotel where he and his crew were staying overnight, before they would return to Washington D.C. tomorrow. Many letters of the neon sign were not working, so one could only read “War Inc” in the darkness. He hated such dives. Many people considered the life of a pilot to be glamorous, but Ray knew better. His job had cost him two marriages. Not even Prince Charming would have stayed with Debbie, his first wife, as they were so different. It was quite another story with Melissa. He had been convinced they were meant for each other and that they would grow old together. How wrong he had been. Three years ago, Melissa filed for divorce, and since then he rarely saw his kids at all, as he had to work on most visitation weekends.

  Freedom might be limitless above the clouds, but down here I am a prisoner of alimony, day-to-day stress, and Augusta Airline. He often considered quitting his job, but as in so many things he ultimately lacked the courage to do it. He also had not been able to separate from his ex-wives, even though he knew the relationships were over. He did not dare ask Cathy to go to her own room either, even though he’d rather be alone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please place all body parts in an upright position during start and fasten your seatbelts,” he heard from the bathroom. She cannot really want to have a third round, can she? Rays stomach once again called attention to itself. What kind of nymphomaniac is she?

  “Babe, I don’t feel so well. I think I need a nap.” Cathy emerged naked from the bathroom. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall, and her body was pure temptation.

  “Captain Thompson, do I have to inform air traffic control? Or are you just getting old?”

  Even though Ray, at forty-one, was actually sixteen years older than Cathy, this taunt was not without effect. She opened the second bottle of Jack Daniels, refilled the glasses with whiskey and lay on the bed next to him. Her breasts shone in the light of the neon sign. Oh, what the hell, Ray thought. I can sleep enough once I am dead.

  When Ray took a shower the next morning, he thought about his schedule for the day. At noon they had to be at the Portland airport for the 1:30 p.m. flight back to Washington. They would land at 4:45 p.m., and if everything went according to plan, he would see his children around 6:00 p.m. Tom and Eve were ten year-old twins and attended fifth grade. It was Sunday, November 5th, and he definitely wanted to visit them this evening. Those were the moments that made his life worth living. A knock at the bathroom door interrupted his musings.

  “Captain Thompson, what are you doing in there for such a long time? We have to get going.”

  After Act Three, Cathy had stayed in his room, even though he didn’t want anyone else to find out about this. It might be an open secret that pilots and flight attendants often had relationships going beyond the professional level, but Ray was afraid of what Melissa would say if she found out.

  “I’m almost ready,” Ray said. “You can wait down in the lobby for me.”

  Ray stepped out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. For his age he was still in good shape, not the least because of the regular fitness tests he had to pass to keep his pilot’s license. Nevertheless, he had aged rapidly over the years. He combed his short blond hair and parted it on the side. Then he glan
ced more closely at his face. Only a few years ago, he was often flattered about how well-preserved he looked. Now, you couldn’t say that anymore. His facial features looked somewhat gaunt, and the few small wrinkles had acquired more and even larger companions.

  When he started shaving, he felt a stinging pain at this throat and saw blood trickle down. His right hand was trembling—at first lightly, then more and more. Not again. He went back to the bedroom and took a large swig from last night’s second bottle of Jack Daniels, then another one. The burning of his cut was replaced by a burning inside his throat. Ray dressed and looked at himself in his uniform. The shaking of his hand had decreased. Then let’s go, he thought.

  An hour before departure, the crew drank coffee in the airport lounge. Besides Ray and Cathy, his co-pilot Nick and three other flight attendants sat at the table. The youngest one was Mia, and Mia was great—as long as she kept her mouth shut. The problem was she rarely did as she seemed to talk non-stop. According to Mia, she had reached her second midlife crisis at the age of twenty-two, and she regaled everyone with details about it, whether they wanted to hear it or not.

  “I mean, how can someone be like that? How can he not be sure if he wants to marry me? We have been together for two months, after all!”

  Ray could imagine why Mia’s boyfriend didn’t want to make a decision. Her yakking could really get on your nerves, and she always made a mountain out of a molehill. On the other hand, the slim blonde possessed two convincing arguments which he himself would have liked to explore more closely. He wondered how his between-the-sheets party last night might have fared if she had been Cathy’s tag team partner. “Mia, just give him some time. Us men just don’t like to commit ourselves for life so quickly,” Ray said.

  “That with-you-it’s-not-for-life business has been obvious, twice,” Mia shot back.

  “Mia!” Cathy exclaimed.

  Touché, Ray thought and felt Mia’s answer was just punishment for his lecherous thoughts.

  “What? It’s true. Men like to get women into bed, but when it comes to taking the responsibility for a relationship, they are all the same.”

  “We should get going,” said Nick, who had been engrossed in the Sports section of his newspaper until now. “The plane should be ready.” Everyone thought this was a good idea.

  Scott (2)

  Scott Gerber was tired. His shift dragged on, and his back hurt. It wouldn’t be long now until quitting time, and he was glad even though he really loved his job. Scott worked as a lumberjack in Maine, close to the US-Canadian border. This state is known as the Pine Tree State due to the numerous pine trees there.

  He only had to clean up his stuff now. He packed away his ax and chainsaw, and walked in the direction of the camp. Scott wouldn’t stay there for long. It was already Saturday, and his vacation was about to start. He soon would be in his pickup truck, driving home to Augusta to be with his wife Jane and his son Sam.

  In the camp he met John and Mike Walsh. He spent most of his time in the same logging sector with these two brothers. They had been his friends for years, and they also lived in Augusta. The men all had a beer and talked about the previous Super Bowl. Scott used to play football himself. He might have gone far, maybe joined a college team, but he decided against it and never regretted his decision. Instead, Scott enjoyed working in the forest and he was happy to be in nature, even though his job was very dangerous. His father had regularly taken him into the woods to cut firewood when he was a little boy. This taught him how to later earn his living using a chainsaw and heavy machinery.

  One could easily see Scott was thirty-five years old—outdoor work does that to people—but physically he was quite robust. Ten years ago he was good athlete, but now he could only see his feet when he sat down. Mom’s cooking is just too good, was his excuse when his wife teased him about it.

  It was getting cold and the sun set early—as it usually does in November. Meanwhile, the men sat around a campfire and had an after-work beer. Scott joined them in their banter, and there was a lot of laughter. Some teased him that they would not want to trade places with his wife when he got home tomorrow. He usually didn’t like such talk, but this time he laughed about it because he was looking forward to seeing his family.

  The only TV available was in the foreman’s trailer, so instead the men listened to some music on the radio and relaxed before going to bed. By now, it was 7:00 p.m. The news came on, and everyone was eager to hear the football results. Out here in the wilderness, the men were pretty much cut off from civilization, but this didn’t mean that football ceased to be important to them. “Today, there have been several flu cases in New York City, and some people had to be transported to emergency rooms,” the radio announced.

  Scott was not surprised. Winter was coming, so these things happened. After all, city slickers were not known for their physical stamina.

  “And finally, the Maine Black Bears defeated Rhode Island 20 to 14,” the sports announcer confirmed.

  The men cheered. What a fitting ending for this day, Scott thought. He said good-bye to his colleagues and loaded his tools into his Chevy pickup. Then he drove off towards Augusta. The trip was uneventful, except for one instance when the rumble strip woke him up, and he noticed his truck had almost veered off to the right across the shoulder of the road.

  Jeez, that is the last thing I want, to start my vacation with an accident.

  Scott laughed and turned the music louder. He passionately imitated Johnny Cash as well as he could and continued driving. The whole trip took about four hours, and Scott was in a good mood when he finally turned into his driveway.

  The Gerber family lived on the outskirts of Augusta, the state capital of Maine, and a town with a population of about twenty thousand. They had a nice wooden house with a wide driveway leading to the garage. Scott used to run over a planter or two his wife had placed near the street when he entered their driveway too fast with his large pickup. Later, he widened the asphalt driveway to escape his wife’s wrath. He smiled while he thought about it as he turned into the driveway. The garden was well maintained. In summer, it will be full of flowers again. That’s all Jane’s doing. I work with wood all day long, but I can’t keep a flower alive for more than three days.

  Scott parked in front of the garage because he was thinking about running some errands in the morning. In Augusta, you didn’t really have to worry about your vehicle being stolen. He only took his tools into the garage. He opened the front door and went into the hallway. He was filled with such excitement—like a boy who found an issue of Playboy in the street. Where was his wife? Scott loved Jane very much, as well as his son. He almost wanted to loudly call out to her, but then he thought Sam might be asleep. The boy was only fifteen.

  Scott almost sneaked in as he crossed the living room with its dark-colored furniture and went into the kitchen. Scott was very proud of his kitchen. The cabinets were made of pine, and he had built most of them. You would have to spend a small fortune at a home improvement store for such a treasure. Maybe the two of them had already gone to bed. Jane worked as an outpatient care nurse at Maine General Medical Center, and she often had shift duty. She will still be tired from the week.

  Everything was so clean in t the kitchen, not sterile, but tidy. “The girl really has everything under control,” he said approvingly. After the long drive, his stomach rumbled. He made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and almost wolfed it down. Jane is probably already in bed. I hope she’s not too tired for sex. “Good she didn’t hear that, Gerber,” Scott laughed to himself. When his wife was mad at him, she always called him by his last name. Then he found a handwritten note on the kitchen counter. Scott picked it up and read it:

  Hi, Honey...

  I took our crown prince to your parents. We used the bikes and will stay overnight. I tried to call you on your cell phone, but I knew it wouldn’t work. We will be back tomorrow around noon. There is some roast left in the fridge. It should last
through tomorrow, though.

  Looking forward to seeing you!

  Jane.

  He looked at his cell phone and saw that she had tried to call him. I always forget to turn the ringer of this stupid thing back on. At first he was disappointed, but then he laughed out loud. “Why the hell am I eating a PB&J if there is leftover roast?” he swore. “Well, then I’ll get to see both of them tomorrow.”

  His eyelids were already drooping when he trudged up the stairs to the bedroom. There will be no alarm clock tomorrow morning! He went through the door and entered the bedroom. Scott Gerber only managed to do three more things: Take off his jeans, roll up in his blanket as snug as a bug in a rug, and vigorously scratch himself on his behind. Then he fell blissfully asleep.

  Josh (3)

  Holy crap! It’s the mother of all damned Mondays... and it’s only Sunday!

  It was certainly one of those days that deserved to be a Monday—at least as far as Josh Pelletier was concerned. In his early twenties, he had left home and began medical school at the University of Maine. He shared a small, simple apartment with a guy named Carl.

  The peace and quiet in Josh’s bedroom was only occasionally interrupted by his own serene snoring. Then someone abruptly hammered twice against his door. “JOSH! Dude, your boss is on the phone!” His roommate Carl opened the door and threw the phone handset towards his bed. It landed on the mattress and bounced with a slight smacking sound directly against his cheek.

  “What the f-... are you crazy?”

  “Sorry, Bro, but you better answer this—he sounds really pissed.”

  Who? Fuck! What’s the time?” Josh looked around for his alarm clock. Damned mess! Somewhere in the chaos of his room this stupid thing had to be hiding. When he found it, he couldn’t believe his eyes: 8:10 a.m.! Still partially in dream land, Josh fumbled for the phone. It was his co-worker Tom.