by Steve Lang
“Nathaniel? Is that you? Are you home early?” The sobbing woman’s voice asked.
Ron followed the unseen voice into the kitchen. Each room he passed appeared to be a dark portal to other dimensions full of nightmares. A million invisible, cold eyes watched him approach as his skin crawled. Legions of bugs marched just beneath the surface of his flesh, sentinels from the grave, and harbingers of his fate. He steeled himself for what may lie ahead in the darkened kitchen. Suddenly something thumped against the stairwell. Ron turned around slowly to see the mottled work boot of Owen Freemantle as he swayed from his neck on the chandelier. The dead man raised his head grinning with wicked delight as Ron looked on in horror. A centipede crawled from Owen’s mouth, disappearing into a nest of disheveled hair atop his head.
On the floor lay the bodies of Nathaniel Stanton’s children and their neighbor Tracey Atwell. Blood pooled around their heads in a gory display, and as Ron turned to run he met the barrel of Nathaniel Stanton’s pistol. It was sticking firmly in his ribcage.
“My babies, you killed my babies, and my beautiful Carina. Freemantle, you’re going to pay for your crimes!” Stanton screamed.
There was a hole in the side of Stanton’s head and bits of skull and brain stuck to his shirt with dried blood. Ron felt the gun in his ribs and he could smell the grave on Stanton, an odor of sickly sweet rot, like dead chicken left out in the sun on a hot summer day. Ron was repulsed and terrified as the gun went off. Stanton fixed him with a cold vengeful stare as Ron dropped to his knees in the hall. Between Stanton’s legs Ron could see the gas can and matches. The pain in Ron’s ribs was electric, and when he looked down, his hands and shirt were crimson red. Ron slowly crawled past Stanton who only looked upon him like a man who has beaten a bad dog, the pistol hanging at his side.
Ron turned the gas can over and allowed the petroleum to spill forth like a fountain, gushing all over the floor, then he rolled it toward the kitchen. The matchbox contained a dozen wooden matches, the kind used to relight pilots on a stove. Ron took one in his hand as Carina crawled toward him from the kitchen.
“It hurts so much! The pain, can you make it stop?” She asked.
“You’re going to die here, anyway. You may as well do something good for once Freemantle!” Nathaniel barked.
“Daddy, is the man going to help us?” One of the boys said. A black hole gaped at Ron from where the bullet entered the child’s head.
“I’ll try.” Ron said. He felt his strength begin to wane, as the blood poured out of him and onto the floor.
He struck a match and instantly his entire body was on fire as it spread along the gas trail Ron left had left. The fire gave him a sudden sense of clarity, and he quickly realized that there was no one else in the house as he burned alive. Stanton, his wife, the children, their neighbor, and Freemantle were gone as Ron exploded in a ball of living flames. The shot had not been real, only his imagination turned against him. Ron rose from the floor screaming, and ran through as many rooms as he could before he was consumed and could run no further. He rolled downstairs to the basement and collapsed next to the newly installed gas furnace. Before he died Ron saw the entire Stanton family standing above him with peaceful smiles tattooed on their faces, and then they vanished. Ron’s soul left the Earth that day, but before it did he realized he had set Stanton’s free from a cycle of torment over half a century old.
Adie’s car pulled up just as the entire house exploded like a gigantic bomb, sending fiery shrapnel in every direction. She and the children were devastated, but safe. The mystery of why her husband and their father had died was never revealed to Adelaide James’s satisfaction. Investigators ruled it accidental arson, but Adie always felt there might have been something more going on that would always remain unsolved. Since her husband bought the property outright, Adelaide owned it had the wreck bull dozed, and then she planted a garden where the house once sat. Every once in a while, if you sit in that garden, just before dark, you can hear children at play, laughing.
2 minutes to midnight
The fate of Earth rests on the verdict of one man as he stands trial for humanity.
Max woke with a start when he realized that he was no longer in his bedroom, but a steel walled room with bars that prevented any exit. He lay on a soft bed bolted to the wall with no pillow or blanket for comfort. As he sat up, his mind began signaling alarms of confusion and fear while little beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
“I’m in a jail cell.” He whispered.
Max couldn’t remember having committed any crimes, and he had no recollection of any police or detectives showing up at his front door either. Standing from his bed he walked over and poked his head between the bars as far as he could. There were other cells containing inmates lining both sides of the hallway for as far as he could see from his limited vantage point. The lights were dim, making it difficult for him to see much more than shadows in the hallway outside. He tried to shake the bars, but they were solid, unmovable. In an attempt to see further, Max jammed his head so far in between the bars that he thought it may get stuck, but he was no closer to understanding why he was there. A man across the hall from him, with tentacles for arms, stepped up to his bars, causing Max to take a frightened step back.
“Fresh meat! Look everyone! Fresh meat!” Yelled the man, laughing.
“Why am I here?”
“You’ll find out, soon enough, Fresh Meat. You’ll meet the Judge.” The hybrid man growled.
His tentacles were playing with the bars, wrapping around them in spirals, undulating in their rhythm. When Max did see his face, through the bars and darkness of his cell, it looked like a lobster’s head. The prisoner across from Max had a miniscule head, large antennae, and a little red moustache. Max’s eyes adjusted to the low light, and when he looked down the cell row he could see many more alien faces peering back at him. Hours passed as Max sat on the uncomfortable cot provided to him, contemplating his predicament in silence. The desperate longing for his wife and son plagued him as the hours passed, and he wondered if they were looking for him or if they knew he was missing. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he thought about freedom, his family, and life outside a barred room, he pounded his bed with a frustrated fist.
Somewhere down the corridor a door slid open and he could hear footsteps echoing. Two tall figures clad in black jumpsuits, wearing faceless helmets stopped at his cell door. Their uniforms had no nametags, and for a moment they stood watching him in silence. The taller of the two waved a small rod at Max’s cell door and it slid open.
“Prisoner 595437, come with us.” Commanded the shorter guard.
Max was frightened, but he complied without a word as they marched him past cells occupied by some of the strangest looking creatures he had ever seen. One corridor turned into another as they led him further into the unknown, and his dread heightened. Max’s mind raced as he looked for some way to escape.
“There is no escape earth man. You will face the Judge, now.” The tall guard said.
“You guys can read my mind?”
“We see all.”
Ahead he saw two large mahogany doors, and beyond there was a commotion as loud voices barked and murmured. The doors opened and Max was escorted inside a courtroom where pews lined both sides of the isle. Max walked down a long runway, at the end of which sat a raised bench where a rotund, human looking man with a slight reptilian shape to his nose, and a black, braided wig sat frowning at a piece of paper in his hands. The courtroom was filled with hundreds of spectators of alien origins. A few of the rabble resembled humans from earth, and were looking in Max’s direction with blank expressions. When Max looked over at them they turned to face the front of the courtroom.
“Prisoner, sit at the table.” The tall guard said.
Max was at the front of the room where a wooden gate delineated the court, and Judge, and to the right of it he was seated at a large oak table. A nervous looking purple man with two antennae
poking through his long brown hair was rustling papers upon the table.
“Sorry, this is my first case. You ready? I mean, uh, do you understand the charges against you?” The man was hyperventilating, and sweating a yellowish liquid.
Max was unsure how to respond, and guessed that this was his public defender. Jesus Christ, he thought. Where am I? Any minute now he was sure that the alarm by his head was going to go off and he would wake up in bed.
“What the hell is going on? I have no idea why I’m here. I mean, is this a joke or something?” Max whispered.
“I’m afraid not. You’ve been brought here to answer for the colony. My name is Randall, by the way, pleased to meet you. Look, just answer the questions to the best of your ability and this should go really well.” Said Randall, wiping sweat from his forehead.
To Max he resembled a purple caricature of the The Great Gazoo from the Flintstone’s cartoon, and it was hard to take him seriously. He fixed Max with a serious expression.
“You really don’t know why you’re here do you?” Randall asked.
The Judge’s gavel banged down, sending a loud thunderclap crack through the courtroom.
“Let’s begin. Is the prosecution ready?” The Judge growled.
The man who stood up looked like Jiminy Cricket in a three-piece suit, but without the bright cheery disposition. He glowered over at Max with an expressionless insectoid gaze, and then back to the Judge.
“Your Honor, the people are ready to proceed. Jiminy said in a vaguely British accent.
“Defendant, rise and hear the charges against you.” The Judge said. He glared at Max for a moment, and looked back at Jiminy. “Proceed.”
“Prisoner 595437 has been charged with negligence, destruction of private property, murder, and endangering others in the galactic neighborhood.” Jiminy stated. His tone was cold.
Max heard the words but they seemed distant and disconnected. He had never hurt anyone, and his family had always recycled their plastics.
“How do you answer the charges?” The Judge asked.
Randall rose and nervously replied.
“He pleads not guilty, your honor!” Then sat down so fast his chair moved.
“Defendant, please take your seat. Let the trial begin,” said the Judge.
“What’s happening, you have to tell me, right now!” Max was angry.
“You’re here to defend your entire colony. You see, we’re an intergalactic court and we travel the various galaxies, in and out of this dimension on a thirty-six hundred year cycle. Your colony is up for judgment, and if you lose the case everyone you know will be erased.” Said Randall.
“You guys are going to kill my family if I don’t win this case? This is some kind of mistake…or a dream.”
“No mistakes are ever made by the Galactic Court, and this is not a dream. It’s not just your family, either. It’ll be every human on earth.”
“That’s genocide!” Max said.
“No, genocide is what you people have been practicing for more than ten thousand years. This will be what you earth men call an extinction level event, I believe.”
“Oh my God! You’re monsters.” Max whispered. He slumped in his seat.
“We’ve been here before, the Galactic Court, I mean. It’s always the same story with your species. Like I said, this is my first case, but I read your history and it’s unpleasant. Your kind has always done wonderful things technologically, and you’re brilliant, but you don’t take care of each other very well. Since the last judgment day you’ve also become a threat once more to the intergalactic community with your violence. I’m hoping the good you’ve done will outweigh the bad, because you seem like a good guy, and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.” Randall said.
“Sounds like you’ve made your mind up against us.” Max said.
“Doesn’t matter what I think, but I’ll defend you to the best of my ability.”
Max took a moment to understand the gravity of his situation, and began to sweat.
“The people of the colony in question have been savagely tearing one another apart for thousands of years. All of this corruption, coupled with general disregard for their planet and each other has ultimately been in the name of greed!” Jiminy screamed.
The courtroom filled with the sounds of a restless crowd at this accusation.
“In one instance, a nuclear warhead was launched at their moon in a show of weapon superiority, which would have disrupted an ongoing helium three mining operation, not to mention the potential death toll. Luckily, it was shot down by Gray’s before the damnable weapon could cause any damage!”
“Sir, your honor, I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t do any of this…” Max stood.
“Silence, you’ll have your turn, prisoner!” The judge yelled.
“What about the wars over natural resources? Instead of working together to form a better colony they fight over petty things. Their governments and corporations deliberately hide technology that can reverse destruction of the planet in an effort to squeeze a few more dollars from the poor!” He turned to face a restless court.
Max felt sick from hearing these accusations as the prosecution raised his arms to silence the court. The prosecutor walked over to where Max and Randall were sitting and glared down at the two of them.
“Haven’t we been here before? The great cities of Atlantis, with all of their might, and technology came to the same ruin! Exiled from their home planet, forced to rebuild what was lost when they destroyed Mars with their foolishness, but THEY ultimately fell because of their greed. Isn’t that what we are still judging them for?” He pointed at Max. “This man is an ancestor of the Martians. Are they not using their technology to once again destroy their planet?”
Whoops and hollers rose like the sound of impending doom, and Max felt his stomach lurch. Jiminy began to pace back and forth, gaining momentum, as Max looked to see that Randall was staring down at the table, his fingers tightly interlaced, impotent. He began to get the feeling that this was a kangaroo court and his chances of getting a fair shot at survival were slim, or none.
“Not only are they killing themselves, but the colonists have once again gained the ability to travel outside the confines of their own planet and galaxy, with nuclear weapons! We all know how violent the earth people are, so the real question is do we stop them now or wait until they use their particular brand of friendship and attempt the hostile takeover of a peaceful planet?”
Jiminy waved his hand at a large white screen that projected images of mushroom clouds, war, pestilence, famine, and vast fields of derelict oilrigs that sat rusting in dark pools. Millions of homeless people starved in the streets as the affluent walked by, unaffected. Most of these images were devastating to Max, because he never knew, and he was ashamed of the ones he did know about. He felt saddened to see what was happening to his home. The worst of it was that part of him had begun to side with the prosecution. The evidence looked bad. However, he knew enough about courtroom drama from television shows he had seen to know that there was always some kind of plea deal offered to the defendant. Jiminy sat down again once the film was over. The prosecutor’s stoic gaze prevented Max from seeing whether Jiminy was pleased with his performance.
“The defense will now speak for the colony.” Mumbled the Judge.
Randall began to rise, but Max frightened as he was, stood instead and gently gestured to his defender to be seated. Then he walked forward, opening the waist high gate, nodded to the Judge, and then turned to address the courtroom. He had no idea how to answer the charges before him, so he did the only thing he could and threw himself on the mercy of his captors. The courtroom had to be quieted once more by the Judge’s gavel so that Max could speak.
“The prosecution may have a valid argument, but I know that the people of my planet, uh, colony, are at their core, good and decent. There have always been tyrannical rulers where I come from, and that’s been our struggle as
well. How would you suggest we stop them when we’re under their thumb and in the dark? You want to annihilate us for their mischief, but you’ll be no better than them. I’m not asking for forgiveness for what they’ve done, or even for anything I have done personally, but if you have the power to destroy us then certainly you have the ability to help.” There were nods of agreement from some, but most of the room sat stoically silent.
“We’re on the verge of a consciousness shift, from what I’ve heard on TV, and maybe the first one we’ve had in thirty thousand years. I think there are more people than you know who are prepared for the coming change, and although we may look like impetuous children to your eyes, a hundred years ago we were pulling carts with horses. Our technology has grown faster than our understanding of how to use it wisely, and we deserve a chance to join all of you in your greater community. Most of my people have no idea any of you exist! Those images may have been hard for you to watch, but they’re even more difficult for me because those are my neighbors, and earth is my home.” Max finished.
Randall smiled faintly as he took his seat.
“That was, OK,” he nudged Max.
The Judge sat upon his bench for a few tense moments as a wall opened and everyone could see Earth spinning divinely on her axis. The entire courtroom had transformed into an observation platform with a magnificent view. Max began to cry softly as he gazed upon the beauty floating below. White clouds drifted like cotton over continents of brown and green, and magnificent oceans sparkled like a blue blanket covered with diamonds. Max let the waterworks flow in an unabashed display of emotion, as the Judge rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Bailiff, bring me the clock, please.” Said the Judge.
A lizard man in a black jumpsuit left the court and returned moments later holding a large golden clock in his hands. He sat it on the Judge’s bench and backed away. It was beautiful and ornate, looking like something from Max’s grandmother’s house or a restored Victorian mansion. The small hand was on twelve, and the big hand was one minute from it. The Judge looked directly at Max for the first time since he had walked into the court and breathed a deep sigh.
