The Ultimate Collection of Science & Speculative Fiction Short Stories (Short SSF Stories Book 5)

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  “Sarah?” I picked up my hand from the floor and tried to reconnect it to my arm. When that failed, I waved it in front of her face. Nothing. The crimson stain under her head grew larger. The air smelled of iron and something darker. It turned my stomach, and I stumbled to the door.

  When I tore it open, I almost crashed into the giant tampon I’d seen earlier, along with the two tiny Supermen—one a good head shorter than the other. The children’s eyes popped open.

  “Wow, check out his costume,” undersized Superman said, his eyes as big as Buick headlights.

  From afar, the wind carried the sound of the clock in the town square chiming midnight. A sudden gust of wind passed through me as my body flickered in and out of existence.

  “That is so cool!” tall Superman said and poked me. His finger passed right through me. He pulled it back with a gasp.

  Stubby Superman gaped at me. “Are you all right, mister?” Without waiting for an answer, he darted through the open door and into the house. I tried to stop him, but he passed right through me. With every strike of the clock, whatever brought me here was losing its grip on me. “There’s two bodies here,” short Superman screamed. I swear, I could taste his excitement.

  The tampon shrieked in delight and clasped her hands to her mouth. Her shrill voice was the last thing I heard before the clock struck midnight and I disappeared back to wherever I came from: “Best! Halloween! Ever!”

  Honest Fibs

  “Seriously?” A wave hits us, bumping me sideways. I spit saltwater as my knuckles turn white on the wheel. The waters are getting choppier now. A wicked wind is gathering gloomy clouds that shadow the sky, turning midday into dusk.

  “You said you wanted another story.”

  “Not a creepy one. I’m freaked out as it is. That the best you can do?”

  “Fine,” he says, sulking like a grounded teenager. “Let me try another one.”

  The Price of Business

  Garbage collectors. There, I said it. No matter how much Pa hated to hear it, we were nothing but garbage collectors in a world filled with garbage. Just the price of business, as Pa always said.

  I guess it made sense that Pa was hiding from the truth. He used to be an engineer for some fancy company Before, picking up skills that proved very useful After. He could fix pretty much anything we found, and we’d made good coin that way. Of course, I’d do most of the fixing, but he taught me everything I knew, so let’s give credit where credit’s due. The thing about my Pa was how much he liked talking about Before. I didn’t remember Before; not really. I was too young for all that. The Badlands were all I knew. And I was happy there.

  I soldered a red wire into place, fusing it with the plate below. The ceiling fan blades rotated above me, far too lazy to do anything about the whiff of grey smoke rising from the wires. I blew it away from my eyes.

  I was ready to flick the switch that would either blow a fuse or bring my contraption to life, when my idiot brother walked into the room. “’Sup, dude?”

  Nothing you’d understand. “Soldering.”

  He grimaced as if I had somehow insulted his non-existent intelligence. “I can see that, dumbface. Why not drop that crap and play some ball with me?”

  It’s a hundred degrees, dumbface, I wanted to say. And this ‘crap’ is what puts food on the table. But I said nothing. He was the muscles; I was the brains. And I didn’t want to end up locked under a sweaty armpit again. “Got a better idea. Help me test this, will ya?”

  I clicked the lid shut, then swung my feet and jumped off the couch. I pressed the small box I’d just finished working on into a plastic slot on the TV. The huge screen flickered, then sputtered to life.

  A bald, muscular man waved his hand. “Welcome to Workout,” he announced in a ridiculously deep and booming voice. Music started blaring. The rhythmic, annoying kind. The kind that gave you a headache. My idiot brother grinned like a baby given his pacifier. He jumped onto a workout bench. I sank back onto the couch.

  “We’ll start with some simple exercises to get the blood flowing,” Baldy bellowed. My brother nodded so hard I thought I was looking at one of those bulldog dolls I’d found the other day. Bobbleheads, Pa called them. He said people put ‘em inside their cars Before. People were weird.

  Baldy punched the air above him, and my brother followed suit. He did everything double time, as if the man could see him. I, on the other hand, did a half-hearted lifting of my fists.

  After a while, the bald man’s figure detached itself from the screen and paraded in the living room. Ah, the beauty of holograms. He leaned towards my brother and scowled. “Faster, man! That all you got?” My brother redoubled his efforts, groaning with every stretch of his big muscles. His entire body glistened with sweat. It trickled down the bench’s leatherette seat and onto the floor. That idiot, he always needed to impress everyone. Even a hologram.

  I continued with my leisurely pace, making sure my hand passed through each of the program’s trigger points. Baldy turned to me and his face lit up. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

  My brother’s eyes bulged as if they’re about to pop out of their sockets. I smiled and shrugged as I continued my miserable excuse of a workout. It was all about touching specific points in the air at certain intervals; that was all the program’s software could identify. I could beat him at this by simply flicking my wrist, but I didn’t want to rub it in. After all, that was why I was the smart one.

  Pa popped his head into the living room. He nodded appreciatively at Baldy. “You did that?”

  I stopped pushing my hands in the air and grinned. “Found it in last night’s haul and fixed it. What do you think?”

  “Nice.” He gave me the once-over. What’s this all about? “Come. We got customers.” He turned to me and winked. “You handle them.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Finally, the chance I’d been waiting for. Pa was gonna let me handle a transaction all on my own. I jumped off the couch.

  Idiot brother jumped up and grabbed a towel.

  “Where you goin’?” I had to shout so he could hear me over the music.

  “Gonna take a shower,” he bellowed back. “Gotta look fresh. Maybe there’s a girl with ‘em.”

  That was all he ever thought about. “There’s no girls, dumbface,” I murmured, and released the box from its plastic prison. Baldy disappeared. Blessed silence filled the room once again. I put on a fresh shirt and stepped outside. The sun punched my eyes. I paused until they got used to the light, wishing I could reach for my sunglasses. But Pa always said you don’t do business wearing sunglasses, and his word was law—if not in the Badlands, then in our household.

  After a moment, I could make out some silhouettes in the distance. I headed towards them. Pa was talking to some strangers. An older man and three young ones. Probably his sons. Despite the heat, they were all wearing long trench coats. Not a good sign. Too many pockets and hiding places. A battered semi behind them was baking under the sun. A broken lamp hung out of a headlight, like it’d taken its own life.

  “Ah, here he is now.” Pa placed his hand on my shoulder, an amused glint in his eyes. “I have to go, but my son here will take care of you gents.” He beamed us all a smile. His gaze lingered on me for a moment.

  “Sure thing, Pa,” I said, as if me handling customers on my own was the most natural thing in the world. I ignored the scratch in my throat. You can do this. “Now, what can I do you gentlemen for?”

  They ignored me. One of the boys was studying some sort of device in his hands. A dusty lizard meandered between their legs and disappeared under a rock offering some shelter from the blistering sun. I, too, longed for shelter. A drop of sweat trickled down my back. No one spoke until Pa was gone. Also not a good sign.

  “Hello, young man.” The older man’s voice was syrupy, in a creepy way. It made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He had a scar running along his face. I was willing to bet it went all the way around his head, unde
r the silly toupee he was wearing. It looked like a weasel had crawled onto his head to die. “We’re looking for some eyepieces.”

  My stomach sank. “Eyepieces?” I pretended not to know what they’re talking about.

  “Binoculars, that sort of thing.” His lips tugged upwards in a smile that failed to reach his hard eyes.

  “Let me see what I can—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, one of his boys was making a beeline towards one of our crates while staring at the screen in his hands. I cursed myself for not checking out the new arrivals sooner.

  “I’m sorry, sir, that area is off limits.” I tried to keep my face expressionless, but my voice cracked a little.

  The boy hovered over a crate and nodded at the older man, who nodded back.

  “You can’t—” I started to say as I walked towards the young man.

  He ignored me and popped open the lid. Inside, there were a dozen binoculars in pristine condition. I knew that, ‘cause I put them there after I bought them last night. The man who sold them had to have stolen them from the posse facing me.

  Had Pa set this up to teach me a lesson? He always went on and on about how we should check all goods for tracking devices, but I usually rolled my eyes and pretend I was too busy, until idiot brother did it. Like I said, I was smart. But I was also lazy, and it looked like no one’d checked these last night. Idiot brother’s gonna pay for this. If I survived, that was.

  The older man grabbed my shoulder and towered over me. “I say you let my boy check it out.”

  I tried to push his meaty hand away, but he refused to let go. “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

  “You see, son, here's the thing. We had ourselves a thief last night. Parts of my private collection went missing. And I intend to get ‘em back.” His gaze met mine in silent challenge, but I refused to give in. Dammit, I wasn’t gonna screw up my first solo job.

  “I’ll be happy to sell you any of our items at a great price.” I kept my gaze locked with his. He growled and I hastened to continue. “If you suspect some of the items in question belong to you, all you have to do is supply us with proof of original purchase and we’ll be happy to return them to you.”

  Of course, the old man probably stole them in the first place. Or found them in the desert. Whichever it was, the chances of him having anything like proof of purchase were about as slim as idiot brother coming to my rescue. He was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid.

  As if to prove my point, the man’s grip on my shoulder was now painful. I gritted my teeth to stop from wincing as his fingers dug into my flesh. “Even a simple photo of said items in your hands will do,” I offered through clenched teeth.

  He shook his head as if in thought. “How ‘bout this, instead. I take what’s mine…” His son now opened a second crate and pulled out a water filtering unit. “… and perhaps a little extra as compensation, and we’ll call it even.”

  I pushed him away. He finally let go. I rubbed my pained shoulder. I could feel the bruises forming where his thick fingers had gripped me. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir. Our store policy—”

  His face hardened and he pulled a sawed-off shotgun from under his trench coat. I knew it was too hot for a coat. “Screw your store policy,” he snarled. “I want what’s mine.” His eyes shone with greed. “Plus compensation for my trouble.”

  I took a step back. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t ADD up.” As soon as I uttered the trigger words, half a dozen Automated Defense Devices whirred to life around us. The wind drowned out the soft sound. The man and his sons didn’t realize it, but the odds were about to change.

  The previous week, I’d spent a whole day complaining ‘cause Pa had made me install ADDs in the heat. Now, I couldn’t be happier that every inch of our household was covered by guns, ready to spray bullets at anything that wasn’t us. Each ADD was guided by dozens of invisible sensors, trained to home in on hostiles. Click… Click… Click… I counted, in total, six imperceptible clicks. Six gun barrels were now fixed on everyone’s heads but mine. I crossed my arms over my chest to indicate the conversation was over and showed them my warmest smile.

  The old man’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. “What’s this jackass smiling about?”

  The young man next to the crate pulled a shotgun from under his own trench coat and started laughing. “Who cares? Let’s just smoke him and take everything.” His finger started to squeeze the trigger.

  The thing with ADDs is, they don’t give you a chance to pull a trigger. In the milliseconds it takes for the human finger to twitch, each of them can fire a dozen bullets at you. Of course, there was no need for all that drama. A single bullet was all it took, and half the young man’s head exploded with a loud bang.

  A second bang told me his father was no smarter, either. He, too, must have tried to shoot me, and now half his head disappeared in a bright red flash. Bits of flesh mixed with blood and brains splashed all over me. The toupee landed next to my feet, smoking. I examined what was left of the now bald head. I’d been right; the scar on the man’s head did go all the way around his thick skull. This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot in the head. Some people never learn, I guess.

  I was about to wipe my face clean when I remembered the other two. I suspected it would be more effective if I faced them covered in blood. I dropped my hands to my waist and turned to them. One was scrawny, the other muscular. They reminded me of me and my own brother. Brains and Muscles. “How about you, gentlemen?”

  Brains clutched Muscles’ shoulder and shook his head before addressing me. “You wouldn’t have any regeneration kits now, would ya?”

  He was a smart one, all right. I beamed them my friendliest smile. I guess it must have looked pretty creepy under all the guts and blood, but to his credit he didn’t flinch. “Why, we so happen to have a few in stock. Only a thousand credits each.” This was twice the going rate, but they couldn’t haggle. Not with the likelihood of a successful regeneration slipping with each passing second. “How many will you be needing, then?”

  I kept my face straight, as if I hadn’t just asked him if he’d like to save the lives of both his idiot father and brother. He was probably having the same thought because I caught a pained glimpse in his eyes. “Both.”

  His surrender made me generous. “In that case, I’m pleased to give you a ten percent discount. That will be only eighteen hundred.” I fished a box out of my pocket and handed it to him. He typed the amount and pressed his thumb against it, then handed it back to me. I checked that the transfer had gone through and beamed them a wide grin, trying to ignore the blood caking around my lips and trickling down my neck. I opened a crate and pulled out two large metal boxes. “You’ll want to apply them right away, to fully preserve brain function.”

  “This ain’t our first rodeo,” Brains mumbled and dragged one of the heavy boxes to their father. He opened the lid and pulled out a bunch of wires. He shoved them down the remainder of the man’s jaw and into his throat, allowing the nanobots to spray into the body and get to work. Within minutes, tissue necrosis would cease and regeneration would begin.

  While he was doing that, Muscles was doing the same to their brother. I took the opportunity to finally wipe the blood from my face with my T-shirt. I’d probably have to throw it away, but didn’t care. Eighteen hundred credits can buy you a lot of shirts. “Need any help placing them in your car?” I asked, both to be polite and to indicate it’s time they got the hell out.

  Muscles ground his teeth, but he’d been trained well. He shook his head and lifted their father from the ground. Brains grabbed the box to stop the wires from falling off. They dumped the old man into the semi, then repeated the strange choreography with their brother.

  “This ain’t over,” Muscles growled as he slammed the door shut.

  Brains smacked Muscles’ head, aware of the ADDs still fixed on them. “Yes, it is,” he said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. I could practically hear his th
ought. Don’t threaten someone with a gun fixed to your head, you idiot. I liked him. We could be friends under different circumstances.

  The semi took off in a cloud of dust. I waited until it disappeared before spinning around. I crashed against Pa’s big chest. Where had he come from?

  He placed a hand on my good shoulder. “Nice job, son. But whatever did you give them a discount for?”

  “Just the price of business, Pa.” I smiled and patted the credits in my pocket. “Just the price of business.”

  Honest Fibs

  “Better,” I say absent-mindedly, my eyes scanning the dark horizon.

  He mumbles something inaudible over the wind. I ignore him as my gaze fixes on a trawler bobbing up and down. It seems abandoned. The waves bang it against the jagged end of the reef.

  “We still got a few minutes before we reach it. Gimme another.”

  “Story?”

  Damn it, Bob! “Yes, story. Last one. Go.”

  Twinsies

  The interrogation room door slammed shut behind me, trapping me inside. I couldn’t help but wonder: would I be here had Sarah and I gotten along better?

  “Mr. Smith, please.” The detective who walked in behind me pointed at the metal chair behind the sparse desk.

  I trudged forward, still hazy from the painkillers, and slumped on the chair. Leaning forward, I ran my fingers through my hair. Where had it all gone wrong? Was it when we drifted apart? Or even before? When our son was born and the doctor took a vial of our blood—just in case? Just in case of what, we’d never really discussed. An unspecified future DNA-related disease, was my guess. None of us wanted to think too much about it. It was just a precaution.