He shook his head in disappointment. “A wordsmith. And someone who’s good at unlocking stuff?”
Ah. I was beginning to see where this was going. “A locksmith?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“So, you’re good with tech stuff. A hacker, then.”
He drew a sharp breath through closed lips, as if I had insulted him, and clicked his tongue. “That’s like comparing a goldsmith to a toddler making pottery.”
I laughed. “Well, Mr. Techsmith, I’m not sure what you want me to say. Even if you’re the world’s best hacker, it wouldn’t do you much good in here. This ship is impervious to any sort of cyber attack.”
His face clouded. He glared at me through lowered spectacles, then absent-mindedly played with the frame of his glasses as he stared out of the window. Of course, the only thing he could see in subspace was the faint illumination of the iridescent bubble surrounding our ship. His sudden interest in the void could only mean I had offended him.
Great. Me and my big mouth. I let out a mental sigh and braced myself for a few silent hours, when a display turned red.
“Preparing for emergency exit from subspace,” the computer’s voice said in a casual tone that belied the threat behind its words. “Exiting subspace in ten…” Numbers counted down on my monitor, flickering to attract my attention, as if the ominous countdown were not enough.
“What the…” I punched keys and pushed levers, but nothing changed.
“Two… one…”
Flash! The darkness of normal space popped into existence. I blinked to clear my vision. Billions of stars glinted around us.
“Why…” I checked the controls. Everything looked normal again. “Did you…”
He gave me a satisfied grin, like a cat that had just burped a single yellow feather.
“But how? You didn’t even…”
He gave me a small shrug. “Told you. I’m a techsmith.”
It was my turn to let out a slow whistle. “Bloody hell. You really are. Say, can you—”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a bright flash. Red and blue lights lit up our cockpit, followed by a burst of static in our speakers. “This is Officer Smith,” a soft voice said. “Good morning, gentlemen. Where’s the fire?”
Crap! The cops. I opened a channel. “Erm, what fire, Officer?”
“So, you performed an emergency subspace exit without something being on fire?” The voice could have been described as gentle; joyful even. Somehow, that made a drop of sweat appear on my forehead.
“It was a malfunction, Officer. Nothing I could do about it.” The drop of sweat trickled down my temple. I shot my passenger a furious glare as I wiped it away. “Help me,” I mouthed. An expression of deep remorse failed to appear on his face. I probably would have strangled him right then and there, had Officer Smith’s ship not been hovering right above us.
Diagnostic readings appeared on my monitors.
“I can’t see any malfunction,” Smith’s voice said. “You wouldn’t be lying to an officer of the law now, would you?” A melodic trill followed his words, as his computer processed our ship. “And I see you’ve already got two citations in this system. Guess this would be ticket number three, then. Which means we have to impound this fine vessel.” There was no hiding the amusement in his voice.
Bastard. I considered explaining, but who would believe me? The Mark Nine was impervious to hackers. I had said so myself, not a moment ago. Damn you, Mr. high-and-mighty Techsmith! I swallowed to clear the rasp in my voice. “Officer, I swear, I don’t know what happened. One moment I was in subspace, the next I found myself in normal space.”
“I understand,” he said with mock sympathy. “Why not explain that to the judge? In the meantime, let me update this for you.”
In front of my eyes, the big, red number two blinked momentarily before transforming into a cheeky three. No, no, no, no, no! I banged my fist against the display.
“Your ship details have been noted,” Smith continued gleefully. “Please contact the impound authorities at the Alpheratz station as soon as your”—he chuckled—“technical problems are solved. They’ve been notified of your arrival and will be awaiting you.”
Just as abruptly as they had appeared, the red and blue lights disappeared in another blinding flash.
I let out a groan. The number three blinked on and off, as if mocking me. “You bastard!” I shouted at my passenger. I ran my hands through my hair. “This is all your fault. You’re—”
He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, a smug look on his face. “Chill, man. It’s no big deal.”
He sounded like a stoned twentieth-century surfer, which only made my blood reach boiling temperature. “No big deal?” I screamed. “What do you mean, no big deal? This was the perfect job for me. I’ll be lucky if I’m allowed to test drive a garbage truck after this.”
“Meh…”
He pushed his glasses up again, making me wish I could feed them to him. I ground my teeth.
“You see,” he continued, “no copper in the universe can remember his own name, let alone your ship registration number, unless it’s written down.”
“How does that help me?” I said with a groan. “It’s all in his computer by now.”
“Why, yes,” he agreed, bobbing his head up and down. “Yes it is.”
The number three flickered and transformed back into a nice, glowing two, then a one, and finally a lovely, round zero. My gaze snapped to my passenger. “You…”
“Now, why don’t you show me how fast this baby can really go? I bet you ten credits it can reach .05 in under twenty seconds.”
My face broke out into a huge grin as I clutched the propulsion lever. “Twenty credits says .06.”
He grabbed the armrest and smiled from ear to ear. “You’re on.”
Honest Fibs
“Definitely funnier that mine,” he says once he stops sniggering.
I grunt as I haul a thirty-something-pound jack into our boat. I grab it by the tail as it thrashes around. Hand-to-hand combat. As I unsheathe my knife from its leg strap and lift it, the radio crackles. A shrill voice startles me and I ease my grip. The jack slips from my fingers and leaps overboard.
Bob chortles at the sight. I let out an enraged roar and march to the radio, turning the volume up. “Mayday, mayday,” it repeats. Whoever it is, there’s no hiding the fear in the strained voice.
I click the mic. “This is the Sea Serpent. What’s your location?”
Silence.
Then, the voice spits out numbers. I hastily jot them down while casting sideways glances at the map. Christ. Just above the reef. “We’re on our way. Hang on tight.”
I whirl around and almost crash into Bob. His face is taut. “What do we do?”
“We help.” I nod toward the fishing rods. “Pull those up and hold on tight.” I help him put the rods away. “And gimme another one of your stories. I need something to shake that voice out of my head.”
Best Halloween Ever
Ding dong!
Is that the door? I spat out a curse and pried my eyelids open. It took more effort than it should have. Then again, my head was pounding and my thoughts were as blurry as a Magic Eye picture—one of those supposed to show a prancing dolphin or a pink elephant in a tutu, or something. I wouldn’t really know; those things never worked for me.
Dinnnnnnng dong!
I imagined the finger on the doorbell. More specifically, I imagined severing it from its owner and sticking it up their nose until it popped out of their ear. Who the hell can it be at this hour? I scrunched up my face. Wait, what hour, anyway? I couldn’t even remember if it was day or night. Or where I was. I let out a loud moan as my head plunked back on the pillow. Just how much did I have to drink last night, anyway?
It was dark, so I flicked on the nightstand light. Nothing. Huh. I need to change the bulb. I tried the other one. The one on my wife’s side. A dim yellow light flick
ered on. I used it to crawl out of bed, and I groaned as my feet touched the floor. It was cold. Real cold. Like the house had moved to the Arctic. I almost expected a scarf-wearing penguin to amble into the room on ice skates. Damn. I’ll have to check the thermostat, too.
I yawned, and the stench of my breath, well, took my breath away. Literally. I stopped breathing in that foul reek the moment it hit my nostrils. Smelled like a homeless skunk had crawled into my mouth and died. Of halitosis.
I snapped my mouth shut and aimed for the door. My legs almost gave way, so I hung on to the wall as if it were a lifejacket. The dizziness passed after a moment and my legs felt stronger. I carefully let go of the wall, patting the plaster like an old friend. Well, it did support me in my hour of need. Which is more than I can say for most of my friends.
My fingers stumbled on the light switch and a bright light blinded me momentarily. As soon as my vision cleared up, I made my way down the stairs.
Outside, I heard children’s laughter. “Trick or treat!”
By the time I reached the door and opened it, there was no one there. I caught a glimpse of a small group of stubby superheroes escorting a little girl who was wearing a sheet tied into a pointy end. She looked like a pointy tampon. Unless she was supposed to be a ghost. It’s hard to tell when your head is spinning and you have trouble convincing your body that humans walk on two legs nowadays, I consoled myself.
Glowing jack-o’-lanterns were everywhere. Orange-hued light stabbed my eyes. As I closed the door behind me, the handle squealed, as if in pain. I gave it a sympathetic nod and rubbed my aching eyelids. I feel your pain. I really do. I headed into the kitchen. I did a double-take as I passed the living room. Every single piece of furniture was covered in white sheets. What the hell?
I removed a sheet off the couch and stared at it in confusion. When did that happen? Images of Rip Van Winkle crossed my mind. I touched my chin, but there was nothing there, save the usual five o’clock shadow. I frowned as I absent-mindedly ran my fingers across the couch’s arm.
Scratching my head, I headed back to the stairs. I’d barely taken a grudging step up when I heard the rattling of keys outside. Crap. If Sarah sees me like this, I’ll never hear the end of it. It’s not that we didn’t love each other. Ah, who am I kidding? Me and the wife, we hated each other. Have for ages. If there was a good memory of us together somewhere in my head, the skunk must have pissed all over it and dug it deep into the ground just before it died, because I sure couldn’t find it.
The door creaked open and a hunched silhouette stumbled in. I briefly considered jumping off the stairs and dashing into the kitchen, but my legs just hung there. With a shrug, I prepared to face the inevitable verbal lashing. Nothing I haven’t heard a thousand times before.
The figure closed the door, which clanked into its lock. As he turned around, I let out a relieved sigh. It was just my best friend. “Matt! Buddy!” The words came out slurred. More like a moan, really. Maybe the wife is right. I should cut down on the booze.
The man at the door gaped at me. His jaw slackened, like in the cartoons. I imagined it hitting the floor and I chuckled. It must have sounded maniacal, because his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I took a step down and raised my arms into a bear hug. “It’s me, you silly sod. What are you scared of?” The last bit came out like a really protracted moan. No wonder he was so freaked out. I probably looked like hell.
Before I could reach him, he let out a shrill yelp and bolted into the living room. I followed him as fast as my shuffling legs would allow. “Hey, it’s just me.”
I found him in the corner, hiding. His face was almost as white as the sheet covering the recliner in front of him. I paused next to the entrance. “What’s the matter, buddy?”
“It can’t be,” he hissed. “I… We killed you!”
My brows furrowed. “What?” Rusty gears groaned in my head as they started to turn.
He pointed at my chest. I could hear his teeth chattering even from where I stood.
I noticed a small hole in my shirt, right above my heart, and pushed a finger inside. It tickled my ribcage and almost exited from the back. Now, that can’t be right.
The gears in my head were now spinning at full speed. In a blinding flash, memories exploded in my mind. Me, in my bed. Sleeping. Someone sneaking into the room. A deafening bang. A burst of light. The acrid smell of gunpowder. Blood flowing out of my body. Life oozing out of the hole in my chest. The hole I currently had my finger in.
I tickled my ribcage once more. It was a funny sensation. Like playing the piano from the inside. “But why?”
“It was Sarah’s idea, I swear!” he screamed. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the recliner’s armrest that it looked like they’d rip it out any moment now. “She made me do it.”
Sarah? My Sarah? Well, that sure gives the whole ‘till death do us part’ a new twist. I knew she hated me, but to have me killed? That sounded dark even for her. I finally removed my finger from my chest and stared at it. I half-expected to see blood, but there was none. Just a boney finger. Perhaps I should just ask her. “Where is she now?”
“Ho… Home,” he stammered.
Whose home? Their home? As in… Matt and Sarah’s home? Well, that explained a lot. I scrunched up my face. My best friend. And my wife. It would be funny, if it weren’t such a cliché. I gave him a disappointed look. Judging by his trembling lower lip, it probably came across as a furious glare instead. “But why did you have to kill me?”
“She said you’d never let her go.”
“Sure I would. I’d have been happy for you to have her. You two deserve each other.” I was hoping the slurring in my voice wouldn’t hide the sarcasm. His dripping forehead showed me it probably had. I let out a sigh. “It was the prenup, wasn't it? This way, she keeps it all.”
He avoided my questioning gaze, but not before I caught the guilt in his eyes. So, he knew. He was just as bad as her. My fists clenched in sudden anger. “Tell her to come here.”
“No!”
I made a move towards him. He scurried away from me on his rear end until he bumped into the wall.
“Tell her to get here!” I made my voice as menacing as I could. “And I may let you live.”
Our gazes locked for a long moment. Then, I made another move towards him, and he nodded so fast I thought his head would fall off. He fished his cell out of his pocket and hit the screen repeatedly with a quivering finger. I tapped an impatient foot on the floor. After half a dozen attempts, he managed to dial her.
“Honey?” His voice trembled. I took a step back to help him steady it. He looked at me and I forced a smile on my face. What little blood was left on his face rushed to the safety of the rest of his body. I hurried to close my mouth shut again. I probably look like Gollum. Best if I go for a serious look. I wrapped my arms around me, hoping to look solemn.
“Honey, there’s been a complication. Can you come here?” There was a pause. “Yes, I know what time it is. But you must.” Another pause. His forehead was sweating bullets now. “Just get here,” he barked.
I headed to the drinking cabinet and yanked away the sheet covering it. My eyes lit up. At least they left my Scotch. I poured two glasses. Neat, just the way we used to drink it.
“Okay, see you in a minute.” He stabbed the screen and it went dark. “She won’t be long. We live right next door.” His voice trailed off, as he realized what he’d just said.
I clicked my tongue in disapproval and extended my arm, my hand holding his glass. It took him forever to work up the courage to approach. When he did, he grabbed the glass and took two steps back. His fingers shook so badly, half the Scotch was wasted on the carpet. He inhaled the rest.
I wanted to raise a deeply sarcastic toast, you jerk! Thanks for ruining my moment. “Wait, I—”
That idiot drank the Scotch so fast, he choked. Whisky flew out of his nose and mouth. I eyed him with curiosity, half expecting booze to come out of h
is ears. Then, I sprang into action. Well, sprang might be too hasty a word. I inched my way towards him as fast as I could, but he ran away from me. Moving with the grace and speed of a drunken snail on Prozac, I tried to catch him.
Still coughing his lungs out and wheezing like an old steamboat with asthma, he stumbled out of the room. By the time I reached him, he was lying before the front door, no longer moving. His face was all blue. His lips purple. Oh, crap.
I ran my hand through my hair and accidentally tore off a small clump. What the…? I caught a glimpse of my face in the corridor mirror. No wonder Matt freaked out. I looked like something out of a horror movie. A constipated zombie with insomnia, perhaps. Undeath hadn’t been kind to me.
Just then, I heard keys at the door. It squeaked open and Sarah entered, her gaze and fingers lost in her purse. “Matt? I’m here.” She sounded annoyed. “What—”
She stumbled on his body and let out a muffled scream. “Matt!” She dropped on all fours, then noticed me hovering in the background. The second scream was much louder. It pierced my ears. I flinched involuntarily. “You… What did you do?”
I tilted my head in question. I’d expected that to be my line. Great. Thanks to that idiot, I’m the bad guy now. The injustice of it all hit me like a freight train loaded with lead anvils. “Me? How about the fact that you killed me!” I vigorously pointed an accusing finger at her to illustrate my point.
Whatever force had brought me back from the dead, it had to be fading, for my entire hand detached from the wrist with a chilling crunch. It flew towards her and slapped her in the face. She let out a high-pitched shriek. I was mildly offended by the way she tossed it to the ground as she jumped backwards. Hey, that’s not a spider, you know.
Her foot caught on Matt’s armpit. “Watch it!” I shouted, and offered my remaining hand, but it was too late. She staggered backwards and bumped against the small table next to the door. The vase where we put our decorative glass marbles hit the floor, sending little green and blue orbs to run free all over. Her stiletto shoes stepped on an aquamarine marble. She flailed her arms wildly as she crashed on the floor, like one of those cartoon characters. Only, this cartoon was made of flesh and blood. Before I could blink, said blood was gushing out of her cracked skull. It pooled under her head as she let out a small sigh. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, unseeing. Unmoving.
The Ultimate Collection of Science & Speculative Fiction Short Stories (Short SSF Stories Book 5) Page 13
