Not As It Seems
Short Stories
Paranormal to Macabre
Howie Erickson
Published by Year of the Goat Publishing
Calgary, Alberta
Canada
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner.
Copyright © 2016 Howie Erickson
All rights reserved.
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9937836-5-4
e-book ISBN: 978-0-9937836-4-7
Also by Howie Erickson
The Bloodline Series
Two worlds, Earth and a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy, linked by strange artifacts, and a boy and a girl, whose actions will solve the riddle of humanity’s past, and send humans on a journey to the stars.
Book 1 The Bloodline Artifacts, a science fiction adventure novel, takes you on an adventure through history and into the present to answer questions about mankind’s origin.
The story begins with a divorced father, Kurt Sigurdson, trying to maintain a connection to his young son, Robby. On a dune buggy trip to southeastern California, Robby accidentally activates mysterious artifacts located around the world.
But, others are watching: a rich oilman, who collects ancient artifacts; a terrorist cell that wants the artifacts for the money they would bring; and a secret Brotherhood that has been protecting the artifacts since the days of the First Apostle.
When an attempt is made on Robby’s life, Kurt must unravel a strange linkage between the Tower of London, the First Apostle, and the ancient Navajo before he can understand Robby’s strange power over the artifacts, and protect his son.
Book 2 The Bloodline Priestess continues the story of Robby and his family on earth. Much to the dismay of Robby’s family, he begins hearing Triel, a girl on a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy, talking to him telepathically.
She has powers similar to Robby’s, and as a result, her life is in danger. To protect her from the military rulers of the planet, a group of priestesses takes her into their order believing she might be “The One”, a mystical being, foretold as a liberator, who would lead the planet’s people out of servitude.
But, the prophecy takes an unexpected turn when Triel gathers up a group of novice priestesses, and leaves the order.
Table of Contents
A Sunny Day in Boston
The Rocking Chair
The Last Soul
Martini Money
The Old Plank Road
Intentions
Camp Hosts
Trails
A Sunny Day in Boston
Joel Simpson started to relax as he walked through Boston’s Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park. He’d spent the morning in his office going over and over the calculations. He could find nothing wrong, but when the President of the United States was involved, well, you couldn’t be too careful.
This was his favorite noon-hour break—catch the MTA Blue Line to the Aquarium Station, then walk through the park under the wisteria-covered trellis, and out onto Long Wharf. Today, the weather was perfect, the wisteria was in full bloom, there was no wind, and the sun was warm on his face.
An arm reached from behind and tightened around his neck. A finger stuck into his back. “Gi’me that lunch bag there or it’s your life,” a voice whispered.
“How do you know it’s lunch and not say, dead squirrels?” Joel said, as he tried to squirm out of the grip of his assailant.
“Because it’s your turn to bring lunch and you don’t like squirrel,” Rodney Smitt said, as he fell into step beside Joel.
“You know, Rodney, one of these times there’s going to be a cop nearby, and he’ll think you’re up to no good.”
“Me, in an Armani suit? He wouldn’t dare.”
They continued out on the wharf, picked a table looking out at the ocean, and Joel produced two corned beef sandwiches, a root beer, and a coke. “Here you go, one squirrel sandwich, and a root beer.”
Rodney smiled. “So, how’s the project going, today’s the big day, isn’t it? The test firing, right?”
Joel took a bite of his sandwich.
“Well, today’s the day, right. And the president, he’s still involved?” Rodney said. “I haven’t seen anything on the news about the president for a few days. Is it your Bull’s-eye Project? Is that where he is?”
Joel leaned forward, and whispered, “Shit, Rodney. It’s top secret. And there are ears here.” He tilted his head towards a nearby table where a couple had quit talking and were obviously doing a little eavesdropping. “I’ll fill you in later.”
****
The crew snapped to attention as President Zagon stepped onto the flight deck with the captain of the Galaxy Explorer. The president made the rounds with the captain, smiling and shaking hands with various crewmembers as they made their way past a bank of computers to a small dais that had been set up for the president.
“Ladies and gentlemen, scientists and crew of the Galaxy Explorer, I am proud to be here with you today. I believe that this test is so momentous that I have taken several days away from my regular duties. If successful, we will have developed a weapon of such deterrent power that it could prevent future interstellar wars and the needless death of million, perhaps billions of people. We could well go down in history as the group that ensured the survival of our species.”
President Zagon waited for a polite round of applause to die down.
“Captain, are we ready?”
“Yes, President Zagon, Sir.”
“Then let’s proceed.”
The captain escorted the president to a small console. “President Zagon, Sir, sit right here. You will fire the device by pushing this button.” The captain lifted a white protective cover to reveal a blue button.
“And what will happen then?” the president said.
“Ah…President Zagon, Sir, perhaps the project leader could explain it better than I can?”
The president nodded and the captain motioned to a woman in light green coveralls.
“President Zagon, Sir, this is Amorpha, the project leader. She can explain the weapon’s operation. ”
“President Zagon, Sir, the project team has developed what could be called a quantum canon. In Quantum Physics, a particle can be in two places at once,” Amorpha said.
“I’ve been told that before, but it seems a little hard to believe. How is that possible?”
“President Zagon, Sir, nobody is quite sure. Lots of mathematical proofs and quite a number of experiments seem to validate the theory, but really, no one knows for sure how it works. The scientists do the calculations, and we build the device and test it. If it works, we all pat ourselves on the back, if it doesn’t, the scientists revise their theories.”
“This is the first real test of this device then?”
Amorpha nodded. “President Zagon, Sir, that is correct.”
“Is there any danger to us or our planet?”
“President Zagon, Sir, there is no danger. We have done enough testing to ensure that we are safe, and we are out beyond the asteroid belt, firing away from our sun, so our world will be safe.”
“Okay, so this quantum canon, what does it do?” the president said.
“President Zagon, Sir, we fire a quantum particle. One particle is here in our time-space, the other is near the actual target. In the process, the mass of our particle is reduced, and the energy of the other increases. If we could take that process to completion, we could completely convert the mass of our particle to energy in the other location. That would give us a weapon of almost unimaginable power.”
“But, we can’t completely convert the mass to energy?�
�� the president said.
“President Zagon, Sir, you are correct, but none the less, the weapon should be very powerful, powerful enough to destroy a star.”
The Captain stepped forward. “President, Sir, we are ready to test the weapon. You may proceed when you wish.”
“Yes, I’m ready. I just lift the white cover and push the blue button, correct?”
“Yes, President Zagon, Sir. You may want to adjust the three lenses on the quantum viewer to fit your eyes before you push the button. The viewer will allow you to see the results of the test.”
The president adjusted each of the three lenses on the viewer. “So, it’s that small star that we are targeting? Are we sure the system has no sentient life?”
“President Zagon, Sir, we are. We have been beaming quantum signals at the system for some time now without response. There certainly is no sentient life in that system.”
The president lifted the white safety cover and put his finger on the blue button. “A small push by one ensures the survival of all.” He pushed the button, and the ship shuttered. Everyone held their breath.
****
Rodney swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a swig of root beer as the couple at the nearby table stood and wandered off. “Okay, Joel, no one is listening now. What’s up?”
“We’re doing the test today. No one knows for sure if it will work. I did all the calculations. It’s my baby so if it fails…well,” Joel said.
“So, why aren’t you there?” Rodney asked.
“I don’t know. I should be, but for security reasons they just sent the project leader. She doesn’t understand the math but can handle the brass.”
“I was right then. That’s why the president has been out of the news for the last couple of weeks, right?”
Joel shrugged.
“And they’re testing, what did you call it, a quantum weapon? In Nevada, Project Bull’s-eye, right?”
“Shit Rodney, I shouldn’t have told you any of this. You’re such a blabber mouth.”
“Ah, come on. Am I right?”
“Well, it is a quantum weapon and the president is going to fire it, but the test is not in Nevada, it’s in…shit, holy shit. Look,” Joel said as he pointed up.
A long streak of plasma streamed out of one side of the sun. The opposite side flattened and then—the sun exploded.
****
President Zagon pulled his head back from the trinocular quantum viewer, slammed his fist on the desk, and let out a roar of laughter. “Well, we sure centre-eyed that little star.”
Some of the crew and scientists chuckled, but most appeared uncertain—should they laugh or not? They were all aware that, in a rage, before his appointment, the vice-president, who was much shorter than the president, had climbed up on a chair and punched the president in his center eye, knocking President Zagon off his feet. The media had coined the term, “center-eyed,” for a knockout punch.
President Zagon wandered about, laughing, shaking hands, trying to charm smiles from the crew and scientists with comments about center-eying the little star.
The Rocking Chair
“Dad, are you going to be okay? I have to leave in half an hour if I’m going to catch my plane. I could stay for a few more days if you like. The company is generous with time off when it comes to compassionate leave.”
“Joanie, you’ve done enough. All the time you’ve spent here the last few months and—”
“John, we’re going to head out now and try to get home before dark. The weather is good so it should only take three hours,” Paul Anderson said.
“Paul, Ann, thanks for coming.”
“John, you and Nancy were our best friends. We often talk about the good times we had at the cottage with the kids, and…we will all miss Nancy so much. You come out to the cottage for a few days any time you like. Bring Joanie.” Paul gave Joanie a big hug. “Joanie, remember the fun we had?”
Joanie nodded and gave Ann a hug. “I’ll organize a trip for us. It would be fun. Right, dad?”
John nodded and after a couple of more hugs Paul and Nancy left.
“We should do that, Dad. It might be fun.”
“No, not without your mother. I don’t think I could.”
“Okay, I should get ready. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? Remember what you told Aunt Rose after Uncle Harry’s funeral. ‘It’s not the funeral. It’s when everyone leaves. That’s when you realize you are alone.’” Joanie took his hand. “I should stay—just for a few more days.”
“No, you have to leave sometime. It might as well be today. I’ll be okay.”
Joanie left, and John cleaned up the last few dishes in the kitchen. He and Nancy hated cleaning up but always did it together. Afterward, they would pour a glass of wine and move to the rocking chairs in the living room.
John took out two glasses and opened a bottle of wine. He stared at the glasses. What am I doing? A tear ran down his cheek as he put the glasses back.
No, not tonight—not alone.
John climbed the staircase to their upstairs bedroom. Raw wood was showing through the varnish on the hardwood treads. He stopped at the top step. He’d started sanding the day Nancy had her first attack. A raw reminder of when it started.
In the bedroom, Joanie had made up the bed with the frilly bedspread that Nancy liked and organized Nancy’s makeup on the dressing table. She’d washed all of Nancy’s things and hung them neatly in the closet. Everything neat and tidy, just as Nancy had always left it. I can’t sleep here tonight. I need that drink.
****
He sipped his wine in the living room. The room was filled with art and furniture that they had picked up over the years. Nancy’s favorite, the painting of the ghost riders herding cattle through the storm over the Rockies, hung on the wall opposite their rocking chairs. John touched his favorite piece of art, a bronze statue of a rider on a bucking horse that sat on a small table between two antique rocking chairs. He took a sip of wine and stared at Nancy’s chair. The arms were scratched and rough where she picked at them as her disease progressed. I should fix that. I’ll finish the stairs and then the rocker—she’d like that.
He rocked quietly and studied the empty chair. One of the spindles supporting the armrest was loose. Why didn’t I notice that before? Guess I never looked at the chair when she was here. Well, I’ll fix that too.
John finished his wine, went upstairs and went to bed in the guest room.
A dusting of snow had fallen overnight. Nancy always loved the new fallen snow, the way it muffled the sounds of the city and covered its decay in a blanket of white. John smiled. But she never liked driving in it. I better shovel the driveway.
After finishing the driveway, he gathered up his sanding equipment and climbed the stairs. He sat down on the top step winded. Whew, I guess the driveway had more than a dusting.
****
The sun was down, and it was time for his evening drink. I’ll finish the bottom two steps tomorrow, then go out, and get some varnish. I’ll get the darker stain—she’d like that.
As John sat in his rocking chair and sipped his wine, he noticed that the rockers on Nancy’s chair were worn where she had rested her feet.
“Only one problem with these rocking chairs, my feet don’t reach the ground,” she’d joked.
I’ll fix that too—she’d like that.
The rocking chair rocked forward and then back. Nancy was sitting in it. She smiled at him and rocked forward and back again. She lifted a glass of wine and sipped. She motioned for him to drink. He took a sip and stared.
“Nancy, is it you?”
She nodded.
He reached for her. She held her hand up, palm facing him, shook her head and spoke. He couldn’t hear her, but he saw her lips move.
“What, Nancy, what?”
Her lips moved again. What was she saying?
“Nancy, I don’t understand.”
She smiled and vani
shed.
****
The cold woke John. An empty wine glass sat on the table beside him. He pulled a blanket out from under the table, covered himself and rocked back and forth for several minutes. Was it a dream?
No, it was real. What did Nancy say? I have seen those lips mouth things at me across a crowded room hundreds of times and understood. What did she say? Why can’t I understand this time?
He walked over and looked out the window. More snow. Good thing I shoveled yesterday. Couldn’t handle all that snow at once. I better get it cleaned off so I can go out to get stain for the stairs. Maybe that’s what Nancy said. Maybe she was happy with my work on the stairs.
John threw a shovel full of snow on the pile along the driveway. What had Nancy said? Another shovel full. Why can’t I figure it out?
Another shovel full. A sharp pain in his chest took his breath away. He slumped forward on the shovel. The shovel slipped out, and he fell against the snow bank. The snow seemed to darken.
John whispered, “‘Tomorrow.’ She said, ‘We’ll be together, tomorrow.’”
The Last Soul
If you are reading my words, you may ask yourself, why did the old fool write this? You might just throw the work in the trash, but I suspect your curiosity will cause you to continue. Perhaps you are an archaeologist from the distant future wondering why our civilization failed. Maybe you are one of the soulless who came upon this manuscript, and asked, who was this person and why did he feel he was the last soul when millions outlived him?
But, I say to you. I am the last soul, for the rest became soulless; wasting in bodies unchallenged by time, overcome by fear of action and the accompanying risk. Even today, as I sit here in the mountains, I can see the Hunters below. Slow and methodical, they move like snails. No not snails, for even snails climb. These Hunters linger, in the valley, afraid to venture onto the mountain for fear of slipping to their death.
Not As It Seems Page 1
