by Inc. HDWP
"This was the last warning, Tom. One more time that you can't get away from the computer right away when we call you, and I will confiscate it and keep it from you for a month. If you need it for homework, I'll stand right behind you and watch what you are doing."
"Dad, you can't do that!" Tom knew his father was not joking. The sheer thought of his father watching him doing his homework made him shudder. Maybe he should play through the whole night so that the game should be finished and the threat avoided. Then he would be free to be with his family. Oh, he realized that he had done it again. Put his own priorities ahead of his family’s. He had tried so hard to balance the two. Again he had miserably failed.
"Argh, my food is cold. I'm going to nuke it." Tom got up again, taking his plate.
"Nuke it?" Jenny was curious, always wanting to learn all the new words her brother used.
"Yes, nuke it - put it in the microwave oven to re-heat it."
Tom turned and walked into the kitchen. "I want to nuke my food too," Jenny called after him.
"NO!" His father was serious, but Tom, contrary to his usual behavior, just closed the kitchen door. He was not going to eat a cold meal. A bit of microwave radiation wouldn't harm him or the food. He placed the plate in the oven, closed the door, and set it to two minutes.
Just before turning it on he remembered that his mother had told him to never use the microwave without a cover over the food. If he did he would have to clean it all up. He sighed, searching for the food lid. Usually, it was right on top of the oven - not so today. Maybe in the dishwasher? Not there. In the cupboard with the other plastic things? Not there either.
Better hurry or his father might show up and stop him. He wondered why it was so quiet in the dinning room. Whatever, he needed his food hot. So eventually, not finding the proper plastic lid, he took a small ceramic bowl and placed it over the food, completely covering it, shut the door and turned on the oven. "That should do." Tom smiled, knowing he wouldn't have to clean the oven this time around.
Still no sound from the dining room. Not even scratching of forks or knifes on the plates. He went to the door and peeked into the room. No one was there; the plates empty. Had they finished the meal without him? Odd. Maybe a new tactic to get him to be on time for dinner? To think more of them and not just himself?
Bing! The microwave was done. He headed back, opened the door, pulled out the plate, and placed it on the kitchen counter. Using an oven glove, he carefully lifted the hot bowl. No need to have his hands steamed.
And that precaution was good, as the steam that came out was red, blood red. Quickly, he dropped the bowl back on the plate. Something was wrong, very wrong.
Not caring about his meal now, he went back to the dining room. The plates on the table were clean, as if not used at all just moments before. Jenny's chair was standing crooked to the table edge, his parents chairs looked as if they had not been used. Neatly placed in their correct positions, as his father liked it: all the way in with the backs lined up to the table edge, without touching it.. Strange. Where did they go so quickly? It had been mere five minutes since he had left the room to reheat his food.
The house was too silent. He checked the other rooms. All empty. And tidy, like when they would go on vacation. Or if the house was ready for a photo shoot for. Everything looked so clean - nearly sterile. Showroom perfect, except for the three plates on the table.
His room and the kitchen were as he had left them; giving them a familiar, lived-in look. Worried as to where his family might have vanished, Tom ran outside to the garage. The door was shut as always, the car still inside, everything untouched. Did they go for an evening walk without taking him along, or even telling him? Had he again neglected them so much that they saw this as the only measure to make him feel what it was to have no family?
Another oddity he noticed was the silence outside. Just as in the house. No birds, no chirping of insects, no dog barking in the distance. Not even the sound of cars that was always in the background. This was not normal; something strange was going on.
Alarmed, he ran back inside, slamming the door shut. He turned on the TV, switching to the 24-hour news channel. No news. No reporter, no images, not even a pause signal. Nothing. As if the channel had never existed. He switched from channel to channel. The regular shows were running. All that was missing was the news. No news anywhere. Now he felt even more alarmed.
He ran upstairs to his computer, turned on the monitor. The game was waiting for his next input.
"Argh, forget the game," he mumbled and minimized it, opening up the internet and online radio. He searched for news, any news. New news especially. About the silence and missing people. All he found was news older than 30 minutes. Nothing about any strange happenings, nothing about missing people. He sighed. Maybe this was too recent for the news to have updated.
He opened his instant message tab. No one online. OK, at this time it was possible his friends were busy with other things. Checking his favorite social networks, he found that there were no posts newer than from about an hour ago. And nothing about vanished people. And here too, no one seemed to be online. He sighed again. It was all so strange. He tried calling some of his friends, but none answered the phone.
Needing to calm down, he re-sized the game. Might as well finish the level now. He made a few clicks and waited for the game to calculate his score. Yes, he had won this battle and the level. "Ready for the next task?" he was prompted by the game.
No, he was not ready. He wanted to know what had happened to his family. He saved the game status and turned it off. Once more he checked the different news channels. Still nothing.
Disappointed and worried, he turned off the computer. Downstairs, the TV was still running. Slowly, he walked back down, slumped into the seat in front of the TV, and again switched from channel to channel for news. Nothing had changed. All news, and the news channels, were nonexistent.
Uncertain about what to do now, he returned to the kitchen. Yes, he was a bit hungry after all. The kitchen and his room seemed the only normal things in this sterile-looking house. That "messy look", as his mother would have called it, gave him some comfort. So often he had wished his family gone so he could do his thing undisturbed. But not like this. Subconsciously, he had mixed feelings, like he did at the end of his flying dreams. Was there a connection?
Seeing the bowl still covering his plate, and remembering the red steam, he decided to check on his food. The bowl was now cold. Carefully, he lifted the bowl. No steam. He took the bowl off completely.
The red steam had settled back down on the food, covering the meat. It looked slimy. And bloody. The peas, carrots, and potatoes, though, looked normal. With a fork, he poked into the meat. A tiny puff of red vapor came out, not very high. And it settled right back on the meat, making it look even bloodier. Disgusted, he threw the entire thing into the rubbish. No matter how hungry, he was not going to eat that.
There were still some peas and potatoes left in the cooking pots. He served himself some of that on a fresh plate and heated it in the microwave, with a fresh bowl over it. He still had not found the plastic lid. While waiting for the food to get hot, he threw the previously used bowl into the rubbish as well instead of washing it. As it touched the meat, a tiny puff of red vapor rose up and settled back down. The meat now not only looked bloody but also seemed to disintegrate. Yuck. He checked if there was any other meat left over from cooking, but as usual his mother had only made the four pieces needed. Meat was expensive.
When his food was ready he lifted the bowl very carefully with the oven glove over his hand. Steam came out, as expected. White steam. He smiled, took the bowl off completely, and without bothering to take a seat, ate all of it. He was puzzled as to why only the meat was affected by the red vapor, and not the vegetables and potatoes. But he was not ready to explore that yet. Still a bit hungry, he took the rest of the vegetables, and heated them and ate them. He placed his dishes and the pots in the dishwash
er, and poured himself a glass of mineral water from a fresh bottle. Ah, that was good. Finally, his stomach felt full.
Once more, he checked the TV for news.. But again, nothing. He felt very alone. Not that he minded being alone. He could do a lot of things when alone; like playing on his computer all day long and not getting in trouble for it. But not knowing where his family had vanished to or what else was going on made him feel uneasy. He was not in a mood to enjoy this state of lonesomeness. What to do now? Maybe he should check the neighborhood for other people like him. Yes, someone even might need his help.
With new determination, he put on his jacket and hiking boots. He checked that he had his house keys with him, took a deep breath, and stepped outside. He closed the front door behind him, pleased that he had remembered to turn off all the electric appliances and close all the windows. You never know, burglars might find this situation inviting. He wouldn’t be home for hours. Outside nothing had changed, all was silent.
With strong steps, he walked over to the house to the right, the one with the young couple and baby. Earlier, when he had come home, the buggy had been outside. Now it was gone. Perhaps the neighbors were out for an evening. He approached the door and listened, but didn’t hear a sound. So he knocked, rang the bell, and listened again. No sound. He walked around the house, peeking into each window. No one to be seen.
Just as he was about to move onto the next house, he heard a soft cry. He rushed to the nearest window. Yes, there was the baby in the bed, just waking up. He watched for a few moments, but since no one came into the room and the baby started crying more, he went back to the door. Luckily, it was not locked and, with a last look over his shoulder to see if anybody was around that might see him "breaking" into a stranger's house, he slipped inside. Following the sound, he quickly found the baby's room.
What he saw shocked him. Next to the baby lay a drinking bottle, filled with rose-colored liquid. The baby grabbed the bottle, drank a little, tossed it aside, and cried again. The baby repeated this a few times. Tom picked up the bottle. It was cold. He was about to take it to the kitchen to warm it, when he noticed the red vapor coming out of the teat hole. Holding his breath, he moved the bottle far away from him and the baby.
The baby was still crying, so he picked it up. Immediately, the baby stopped crying and gazed at him with big eyes. But not for very long. Tom was reminded of the times his sister had been a baby. This one was hungry. Now! The pants were full too. With a big sigh he changed the nappies as he had done those years ago, under his mother's supervision. Now Tom could see that it was a boy. He didn’t cry anymore; just sobbed a little, looking at him with big, sad eyes. He took the baby to the kitchen and searched for something he could give him to eat. He found an unopened glass of carrot mush. Better than nothing. But even after gently heating this in the microwave oven, the baby refused to eat it, still sobbing softly from time to time.
For a short moment when the baby opened his mouth for a louder sob, Tom could see why it had refused to eat. The whole inside of the mouth was blood red, raw. It was disintegrating like the meat he had thrown into the rubbish at home. Shocked, he nearly dropped the baby. There was nothing he could do for him, or was there?
He put the baby back into the bed, quickly left the house and ran far away down the street, tears welling up.
This red vapor was seemingly destroying everything meat and milk. No wonder there were no other humans around. Maybe even no other animals. There had been no dog barking or bird singing since he had noticed the silence. All of them ate meat in some way and thus got that vapor inside them. He shuddered. Only he had not eaten any meat this evening. Had his family disintegrated like the baby was doing? No wonder there was no one around now. But who then had tidied up all the rooms? What was in the vapor? Where had it come from? Was this the preparation for an alien invasion? His thoughts raced.
He slowed to a walk, out of breath. Was there any vapor around here waiting for him? He hadn't noticed any. He had to go back home, he needed something to protect himself with. He couldn’t let himself be disintegrated like his family. Somewhere deep inside him he still had hope that all this was just a bad dream, and he would wake up and his family was still there. Then he could undo all the neglect he had done to them; be a true family member. Now that he seemed to have lost them, he understood how much he loved them, missed them, and how badly he had treated them over the years.
He walked home fast – but not too fast. He didn’t want to have to breathe in too deeply. He kept listening for any human or animal sound, and kept looking for any red vapor.
With a sigh of relief, he made it home. He opened the door to his house only as much as he needed, slipped inside, and quickly closed it again. He ran to the bathroom for a wet rag. After tying it over his mouth and nose, he checked the rubbish in the kitchen. The meat in the rubbish was completely gone. So was the red vapor. He poked around in the rubbish a bit to see if it had fallen in deeper, but found nothing. OK, so this stuff didn't last. As long as he didn't touch anything meatish he should be safe for now.
Suddenly, he felt very tired. Yawning, he checked the TV once more only to find no changes. He switched it off and went to his room. Not bothering to check the
Internet, he lay on his bed and instantly fell asleep, the wet rag still over his mouth and nose.
He heard a voice call him. It sounded serious, but not as dead serious as when his mother had called him down for dinner. There was an urgent note to it, but it was so soft he hardly could understand more than his name. He jumped up, checked that the rag was still in place, and opened the door of his room.
The voice was now stronger. "Hurry, get in the ship. You have to stop the invasion. The vaccine is already loaded. There is no time to lose, Tom. Hurry!"
Ship? What ship? He ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time, put on his jacket and boots, and opened the front door. He was so glad he had left that rag on. The air was filled with red vapor. In some places, thick. In others, barely visible.
Then he saw it. The ship. Right in front of him, parked at the walkway like his father's car. Amazed by the sight, fearful, yet curious, he walked towards the ship. When he reached the ship, the door opened by itself. He pushed all fears aside and quickly climbed inside.
Here the air was free of red. With one smooth movement he slid into the captain’s chair. It formed itself perfectly to his body, the steering mechanism readily touched his hands. At first Tom was a bit timid, but then it seemed he remembered long-forgotten abilities. He started the ship and swiftly maneuvered it down the street.
Once he reached the crossing, he lifted the ship up high over the houses, flying in curves over them. There was no need to activate the vaccine mechanism - the ship was set to automatic for that. All he had to do was fly it, and he did with growing speed and enthusiasm. He truly enjoyed this task, forgetting completely why he was doing it. Only important that he was flying the ship.
Left turn. Right long curve. Fast tilt to the right to fit between the two tree trunks. Then quickly tilt back to horizontal while pulling steeply up. Go over the tree tops and in a long left curve fly out over the river.
Pure fun.
And bit by bit the vapor vanished, and clear air came back. He felt great satisfaction, being only a boy and yet saving the world. He leaned back.
"Tom!" Someone was shaking him. "Get up, Tom. You will be late for school." He opened his eyes and look into the face of his mother, who was a little upset. But weren’t they gone, all of them? He must be dreaming. He sat up and looked around.
He was in his room. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. The last thing he could remember was flying with the ship, eliminating the vapor. Puzzled, he got up to get dressed. His mother went back downstairs. On impulse, he switched on the computer. Yes, perhaps there was news now on what had happened yesterday.
But it still was yesterday.
And somehow, Tom knew the whole thing would still happen. The invasion. His f
amily vanishing. And him coming to their rescue. Or...
Oddly enough, his game still prompted him: "Ready for the next task?" So, he had finished the last battle as he remembered. A time jump back for him alone? Or had he forgotten that he had finished the game already? What had been dream, what real?
He checked his emails.
One line read: "Be ready for tonight." Although it didn't show who had sent it, he disregarded all warnings about safe usage from his father and opened the email. After what he had gone through, he felt he could tackle anything. A computer virus would be nothing compared to last evening. The time stamp on it showed that it had been sent this evening. Been sent ahead of the time he was in now? Odd.
There was nothing much more in the email. Just these words:
"No fear. No delay. You know what to do. The world depends on you. Be faster than the red vapor invasion."
It made him smile.
Worms Crawl In…
Michele Mogil
Mom like to tell my husbin Rufus, “Someday those worms is gonna creep up the stairs on yas an eatchas for dinner!” She was kinda half-jokin.
“Pfft,” Rufus said. “They stay in ther bins in the cellar. Worms can’t climb stairs.”
“You givin them a taste for flesh,” Mom said, referrin to when Rufus put a couple a chicken bones in the bins just to see what would happen. It din't take a week an those chicken bones came back all grey an hollow. The worms ate the meat right off a them an the marrow right outta them.
“I dunno,” Mom said. “But they gimme the heebie-jeebies, for sure.”
See, Rufus like to make compost. He went to a class at the Co-opertive Extension place in our county an learnt about how to do it proper. He was made a Master Composter, even. After that, he went to festivals an whatnot an had a display with plastic containers of his compost an told people how to do it.
“Instead a throwin out your food scraps, give it to the worms to eat,” he told em. “They make dirt for your garden, then you grow vegtables an make more food scraps for your worms, so your worms can make more dirt, an there you got it. The circle a life.” Then he’d give em this smart-ass grin, like he’s some kinda perfesser.
