Morning, noon, and night, they were together. Some days the fun never stopped; they laughed and laughed and laughed some more. And other days things were okay, not fun really, but routine. Truth be known, some days things were a little dull.
The young man was not concerned by days that felt dull. He had gotten used to them––slowly, during his time on the boat, and he felt content.
Then one morning, while the couple was in bed, Lilith became unreasonably angry.
The young man didn’t understand why. Nothing inside the boat could have made the serpent so upset and unhappy, for the boat was a grand spectacle of luxury. It was something the two of them had built together. It had brought them joy and happiness most every day for the last few years.
And yet, here it was. Lilith was angry.
She yelled, and the boat made a strange noise.
The young man looked at the floor beneath his feet, for that seemed to be where the noise had come from.
“What was that?” he asked, with his eyes large and frightened. He wondered if the boat was under attack. Perhaps there was a shark in the water, or a whale, or a great creature with giant ship-crushing tentacles stirring beneath them in the deep. For the first time in his life he found himself worried about the vessel’s wellbeing.
“I don’t care what it is,” Lilith responded.
He could see she was not joking. Lilith did not care. She was far too angry to care about a noise from below and she continued yelling, and cursing, and soon she was screaming.
The boat made another strange noise, followed by another. The bizarre sounds were getting louder.
As the young man became upset, Lilith unleashed an ugly grin. With the eyes of a snake, and a smirk holding no joy or happiness, she showed her anger, her resentment and her distaste. She was ugly, not beautiful like he had first thought.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, my one-and-only love,” the young man said, sitting up in the bed. “But I think it’s best that I look in the basement. I should see what is making that terrible and fearsome noise.”
“You will do no such thing,” the serpent replied. “Or you’ll discover how angry I can become! This fury is but the tip of an iceberg––one that is far deeper than you can imagine. You’ll stay here with me and do as I say. I command it! Or learn the true depths of my rage.”
Just then, the boat made another unnerving sound, which was followed by the swish of rushing water.
“Oh dear,” he cried. He jumped out of bed, tugged his pants over his legs, and squished his feet into his shoes. “It’s the boat! It’s sinking! It’s sinking!”
He ran for the door.
“Don’t run away while I’m talking to you!” Lilith screamed, “We’re not finished here yet!”
“But my love, I must go, otherwise all will be lost! The sound of incoming water is too much to ignore! My heart is yours, so please forgive me.”
He ran down three flights of steps, with his knees high and his feet soaring. He rushed into the boat’s massive hull, exhibiting a speed he had never known.
Lilith continued screaming: “Get back here, dammit! I demand it!”
The hull was flooding. There were six separate holes; freezing cold water poured through each with an uncompromising force. The boat groaned and grumbled; then a new stream of water began pouring through a fresh opening in the wood.
The young man felt powerless as he searched the vessel for a toolbox. He found the tools inside a closet on the second floor, beneath a box of clean towels and new blankets. He returned to the hull as quick as he could and found that things had gotten much worse. There were so many holes that counting them was impossible. Water had risen above his knees and was getting deeper by the second.
He smashed a bench it against a wall. Then he hammered nails into the wood, patching the places the water flooded quickest.
The patches held.
He smashed more furniture and patched holes for an hour, but it was no use. There were too many openings and the boat was sinking faster than ever. If he were to save the ship he needed Lilith’s help. He could not do it alone.
The young man ran up the stairs and raced into the bedroom. “Lilith, Lilith, come quick,” he said. “Our ship is sinking!”
After he spoke he realized that she was not there. The room was empty.
She must be helping, he thought.
He ran floor-to-floor, room-to-room, searching for his one-and-only friend. All the while new holes were created and the ship took on more water. Finally the young man checked the upper deck. He found Lilith bathing in the sunshine with a drink in her hand. To his surprise, she was not alone. She was with another serpent, a man serpent. He too was sun bathing and enjoying a drink.
It seemed sinfully wrong that Lilith should be having a cocktail with an unexpected guest. The boat was sinking.
The introductions and explanations would have to wait, the young man decided. “Our ship is sinking, my one true love. I need your help.”
Lilith laughed. “I won’t help you,” she said. “Why should I? This vessel either stays afloat or it doesn’t. If we sink, then it was meant to be.”
“What are you saying?” the young man asked, quite honestly amazed that his one-and-only friend cared so little about the ship they had created together.
“You heard me.”
“But why? You and I built this ship from nothing. It was a Love Zero; remember? And look what we have created!”
“If you wish to keep patching, than do so,” Lilith said. “I won’t interfere, with that I give you my word. But don’t expect me to lift a hand either. I don’t care enough to assist. If we go under, so be it.”
The young man gasped. “You don’t care enough to assist? But this vessel is all we have! How can you not care?”
Lilith shrugged and locked hands with the other serpent.
Seeing this, the young man’s stomach burned. It was as if all the butterflies inside his belly had died a horrific and unforeseen death. “Are you with him… somehow?”
“No,” Lilith said. She smiled and looked away. “Of course not. Don’t be silly. He is just a friend.”
Suddenly the young man understood her words, her lies… and the position he allowed himself to be in. He felt angry enough to put his fist through a wall. And for the first time since they had met, he saw how ugly Lilith really was, inside and out. She was a serpent.
But of course, he had known this all along.
* * *
The young man ran down the first flight of stairs. The bottom half of the boat was flooded now. His toolbox, which was in the hull, was lost.
He fell to his knees and cried, and his knees began to ache.
The ship is nothing like the beach, he thought. It is hard and cold and un-giving. The beach is freedom; the boat is a prison.
He heard footsteps, followed by a giggle and a splash.
When he checked the deck he found that Lilith and her new friend were gone.
An hour later the ship sank. The young man, feeling lonely and sad, held on to a broken piece of bench and drifted alone in the cold, undefined sea. In the distance he could see a cone shaped raft built for two.
Lilith and her new friend were on it.
* * *
SUFFER SHIRLEY GUNN
Shirley Gunn dragged herself from the loneliness of her double bed and put on a pot of coffee. It was early, 6 am. Once the coffee was brewed she sat in her favorite chair, mug in hand, watching the sunrise through the large bay window in her living room. The town was uncommonly quiet; the streets were empty. Her dog, Blueberry––a beautiful and friendly, chocolate brown, Labrador retriever––was happy to see she had joined the land of the living. He sat close to Shirley’s chair, his tail wagging excitedly.
Shirley smiled and the dog licked the back of her hand.
“Good morning, Blue.”
The dog took a few steps back, stopped wagging his tail and lowered his head.
“Oh, what’s
a matter, boy? Shirley said, before slurping from her cup. “You want me to take you for a walk, don’t cha?”
Blue wagged his tail twice more but his heart wasn’t in it. The animal seemed to be carrying the weight of a troubled mind. If Shirley didn’t know better she’d think the dog had been scolded.
She patted Blue’s head lightly and smiled.
The dog nuzzled into her embrace; then quickly pulled away. And with a great sigh, Blue grinned a terrible and bewildering doggy grin, and spoke. “Shirley my dear, you and I need to talk.”
The coffee mug slipped from nervous fingers and fell to the floor beside the chair. Coffee soiled the rug. Shirley’s mouth cracked open and her eyes widened. Her bottom lip quivered and both of her hands began trembling. Her stomach, which had felt fine a moment ago, churned like she was trying to digest a toilet filled to the brim with concrete cement.
The dog talked.
“Oh Lord,” she said. The dog talked!
“Don’t be frightened, Shirley. There’s no reason to fear me. You’re my friend, my master. We’ve been living together since I was a pup, running in the yard, biting at your shoe. I stood by your side during your divorce and your depression, and slept at your feet when you were alone. I’m with you now, Shirley Gunn. You’re my master, and you’re my very best friend.”
Shirley put a hand to her mouth and gasped. “You can talk!”
“Yes,” Blueberry said. “I can talk. So, listen to my words… you are in great danger. We both are.”
“How can you talk?”
“I’m afraid that conversation will have to wait, because at this very minute––”
“No! You need to tell me! How this is possible? You’re speaking English, for crying out loud! Do you hear what you sound like? My God! You sound like my old University Professors!”
“Shirley, listen. I have some important things to––”
“NO!” Shirley slammed her fist onto the arm of her chair. “Tell me! HOW. IS. THIS. POSSIBLE?
Blueberry lowered his head in defeat. “Fine, don’t get mad. I’ll tell you.”
The dog walked towards the window and looked up and down the street nervously, with paws gripping the carpet. When reasonably satisfied with the look of the neighborhood, he said, “Dogs are not what you think they are.”
“You’re an alien,” Shirley whispered, more to herself than the dog. “You’re from another planet, like that stupid movie with the…” She tapped her fingers against her temple, as if doing so would stimulate her memory.
“No.” Blueberry said forcefully. He turned away from the window, but stayed close to it. “I’m not from another planet or a figment of your imagination. I’m a robot. All dogs are robots.”
“All dogs are robots?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s true.”
“My last dog––Nightingale––was hit by a truck. I was there. She bled all over the street.”
“Yes. I know she did. Look Shirley, I have to tell you something that is far more important than the history of your pets.”
“Are you telling me that Nightingale was a robot?”
“Yes.”
“This is crazy.”
“I can understand why you might think so, but let me remind you––”
“Then why in the world did she die, right there in my hands? I was holding her. I watched her die. Her blood was all over me, and the road, and the truck that killed her! I… I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with my dog! I’ve lost my mind, that’s the only logical answer!”
Blueberry growled in frustration. “Every dog has a chip––”
“So if I cut you open right now, you won’t bleed. You’ll be all wires and electrodes inside, is that right?”
“No. If you cut me open I will bleed and it’ll hurt like hell. Would you shut up for a minute? For God’s sake, please, let me talk! I’ve put off talking as long as I can. I have some important things to tell you. And yes, I get it. I understand how shocking it must be for you, hearing me communicate this way, but get over it… at least for now. Okay?”
Shirley sighed. She looked at her dog, then at her feet, then at the mug sitting on the floor. Everything seemed different now. The world had just changed. “Okay,” she said. “Sorry. I’m going to get myself a fresh mug of coffee and then you can tell me everything. Please, stay where you are… I need a moment to myself.”
She got up and walked across the room in a daze. Her mind was reeling but her feet moved slow. This was a page from the Twilight Zone.
Blueberry waited patiently for his master to return. His eyes were locked firmly on the road.
Shirley returned several minutes later looking like she had cried. She had a fresh coffee in her hand. Her eyes were puffy and her skin was pale.
Blue said, “You ready?”
Shirley sat down, slurped her coffee, and closed her eyes. A few seconds later she opened them; nothing had changed. “Yes,” she said insipidly. “I’m ready.”
“Good. A great many years ago, before the ice age and before the Silurian period, there was civilization. There was intelligence, and technology, and science––do you follow me so far?” Blue was talking very quickly.
“Yes.”
“Does it seem impossible that things evolved before several ice ages had a chance to destroy the developments of evolution, and erase the planet’s progress from historical knowledge?”
“No. In fact it seems logical, if not likely.”
“Okay. That’s what I like to hear. Things evolved. This was well before the evolution of man, remember… and things were very different back then. I don’t have time to explain how different, so please don’t ask. Not now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Thank you. There’s something inside my head similar to a computer chip. I’d tell you that it’s man made, but it’s not. It was created by hands, not completely unlike your own. The hands were of a class known as the Jappared. The Jappared is one of the species that ruled this planet before you. The chip they developed is small, much too small to see. Think of it like a computer chip, or memory card, hiding inside my DNA. All dogs have them, all wolves too. Now here’s the important thing: the moment I opened my mouth and began talking with you a signal was sent to the other animals, to the dogs and the wolves. They know that I’ve broken the rule of codes, see? Which is a very bad thing to do. They see me as a virus now, an illness inside the computer’s mainframe that is threatening to destroy their way of life. They’ll be coming soon.”
“Why?”
“To kill us both.”
“Oh my Lord! Why… for crying out loud, why?”
“I’ll explain everything, but look at yourself, Shirley. You’re wearing your slippers and pajamas. You need to get changed. We need to get going.”
“Where?”
Blue looked out the window again. The street remained quiet and empty. “Shirley. I’m going to say this once, and I hope you listen to me. GET DRESSED NOW.”
Shirley’s mouth slinked open. She looked outside, realizing that the danger wasn’t metaphorical or spiritual. Not this time. It was physical. She could almost see the dogs of the neighborhood barking furiously as ignorant masters stumbled from bed to let them outside. She imagined the wolves of the north growling with lips snarling and fangs exposed.
She thought about the Boxer that lived next door. It was big. Very big.
“I have to get dressed,” she whispered.
Blueberry nodded unwearyingly. “Yes you do.”
“I spent too much time making that second coffee.”
“Absolutely.”
Shirley leapt from her chair and raced across the room, holding her drink in her hand. She dropped the cup on a table. She hustled free of her pajamas and into fresh clothing. “Where are we going?”
Blue stayed close, ready to move. “Bring your keys. We’re heading to the car.”
Shirley pulled on her r
unning shoes without tying them, grabbed her purse, and made for the door. “I’m not sure where my cell phone has gone. I always leave it here, on the table––”
“Trust me… we don’t have time. Forget about it.”
Reluctantly, Shirley said, “Okay.”
They stepped outside and hurried along the driveway. The morning air was nice and pleasant, spoiled only by the two Doberman pinschers that were coming down the street, looking like they were ready to kill them.
“Here they are,” Blueberry said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Where?” Shirley looked down the street and saw the dogs immediately.
Each dog weighed close to eighty pounds. Ears were cropped. Legs were muscular. They ran with muzzles pulled back, teeth exposed, and eyes focused on Shirley’s neck. They weren’t barking or yelping. Their padded feet galloped along the pavement quietly, not drawing unwanted attention.
Shirley opened a car door, Blue piled into the backseat, Shirley jumped into the front. She slammed the door, started the car, and put it in gear before the Dobermans arrived. Then one leapt onto the hood, growling hungrily with incisor teeth exposed. It was easy to imagine the animal ripping a person’s stomach apart and chewing on their entrails. The beast was born for killing.
“They’re not barking,” Shirley said.
“No,” Blue admitted shamefully. “They won’t.”
The dog moved a little closer to the windshield, still growling, eying its intended prey. It didn’t blink or lose focus in any conceivable way.
“Why not?”
“Barking is something we do to create an illusion. When a dog barks, it’s for show. Even if the animal wants to hurt you, barking is just an act. It makes us appear less intelligent.”
“I don’t understand. Why would––”
Blue interrupted boldly. “You need to start driving, Shirley. The other dog is almost certainly chewing on your wheel. This is dog is creating a diversion. Nothing more. Never underestimate a dog’s intellect.”
13 Drops of Blood Page 14
