Unhinged: Volume Two

by Logan Keys

  The darkness seemed to swallow them all up. Him, the two horses, the calf, it was as if they were alone in a void on another planet.

  Cal gripped the calf tightly, but rain was making her coat slippery in his hands.

  Gurty was determined it had seemed, but not too far down the trail, she slowed up despite Cal’s urging.

  “Come on, Gurt. Go.”

  But the mare took a few more steps then stopped. Eyes looking into the distance, ears pricked, she wouldn’t move.

  Lightning flashed. The trail was empty.

  But when it flashed again, Cal turned to glance at Molly and what he saw made his heart thunder in his chest.

  Molly’s flank had long rents in it as if an animal had scratched her.

  The skin hung flayed properly from each tear.

  They’d most likely need stitches, and her side was wet with blood.

  He used his sing-song voice to Gurty who no doubt sensed his panic. “Come on, Gurty-gurt. Come on, ole girl. Let’s go home. Get dry. Feed you.”

  But Gurty’s feet were planted.

  She ignored him.

  Shook her head savagely.

  Lightning flashed again.

  What he saw could very well be a rock on the trail.

  One that appeared suddenly.

  Outlined the shape of a person…or demon.

  Gurty pawed at the ground savagely, her anxiety having to come out. She wanted to turn and flee, Cal could feel it.

  He tried to talk her down, but she only backed up further.

  The darkness was all Cal could see for now but the way she moved, something was coming closer.

  “Henry!” Cal called, desperately. “Gregory?”

  The only answer was more thunder, and Gurty neighed.

  Then Molly neighed.

  Molly lunged to the end of her reins, tearing them free from Cal’s hand.

  He had to let go or else he’d be pulled from the saddle.

  “Go!” he shouted at Gurty throwing her the reins as well.

  The old mare needed nothing more, she just turned and ran the opposite way of home.

  In the darkness, there was nothing but sound, wind, and rain, as Cal gripped the calf, letting Gurty pick her way, giving her the control, praying and hoping it was the right decision.

  He would call for his brothers, but it would be wasted energy. They couldn’t hear over the rising storm any more than he could hear anyone else if they were looking for him.

  So, he clung to the saddle, and felt the dark hug him as tightly as he hugged the calf.

  It was when Gurty slammed to a halt that he realized where they were.

  The flash from the sky showed him exactly what he feared most: The Cave.

  A place that haunted his dreams, a place that now seemed to be his destiny.

  For no reason at all, and every reason it seemed, he decided he’d dismount. Cal gave in to the idea that this was fate. He had to face this or keep fighting it forever.

  Gurty also understood somehow, for she stayed perfectly still so that he’d not even dropped the calf on his way down.

  “Stay here, girl,” he said, and he gently laid the calf down too next to a rock.

  It was too dark to see really, but somehow Cal knew the way as if he’d seen it a hundred times before.

  And he had really. In his dreams.

  Once he felt his way closer, he stopped fearing the red eyes, and he stopped even imaging the demon, but he knew that the eyes and the monster were both nearby being one and the same.

  But Cal had to try to see if he could help his brothers.

  He couldn’t return without them like he’d previously wanted to.

  For some reason, he knew if he had, he would never find them again.

  The blinding lightning lit the area now, and the cave, just a normal cave, stood with its maw open to the world, letting out darkness, maybe from hell, and letting in Cal and his brothers.

  Out of the rain and out of the wind, it was silent as the grave in the cave, and darker still.

  No sounds of hell.

  No monsters lurking.

  “Henry?” he called weakly.

  His voice tried to flee as Cal’s body shook with terror.

  The former bravery was gone.

  “Gregory?”

  But there was no answer.

  Nothing but echo and darkness.

  Had he walked a mile?

  Had he walked a few steps?

  He could not be certain.

  “Henry?” Cal asked more loudly this time. “Gregory!”

  His voice was bolder as were his steps

  Cal heard the sound before he saw the eyes.

  Red and glaring through the void of darkness they stared at him.

  He froze in fear, and he held his breath.

  Can it be real? He thought.

  “Cal!” a voice yelled, and the eyes disappeared. “Cal, you in there?”

  “I’m here!”

  It was Henry. He grabbed Cal by the hand. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

  Henry led him outside.

  Cal’s legs were jelly with relief.

  Together, they got the calf back in Cal’s lap aboard Gurty.

  “Where Gregory?” Cal asked.

  “He’s off trying to find Molly. She got into some cactus and cut up her side.”

  Cal sighed. Of course, it had just been cactus.

  They met Gregory on the road without his horse. He shook his head. “Have to find her later after the storm. She’s either back home or lost.”

  He got onto the back of Henry’s ride who scooted around and threatened to dump his brothers.

  Cal nabbed the reins himself and shook them. “Settle down,” he said firmly and the younger mare did.

  He led her close with Gurty, while holding the calf, and guiding them home.

  Cal was the one to bring them all back to the barn, his brothers wide eyed at his newfound strength.

  But he’d been in the cave. What could scare him now?

  They arrived back at the farm and their father helped them patch up the calf’s legs.

  He asked about Molly and the boys told him what happened.

  “I was just about to come after you,” his father said. “I should have. Good job, Cal. Sounds like you were a real help.”

  That made Cal’s chest swell. “Could I help you guys find Molly tomorrow?”

  “Sure can,” he said ruffling his hair.

  After rinsing off, Cal tucked up into his bed, watching the storm through his window, thinking about all of what had occurred, trying to make sense of it.

  “Cal!” he heard his brother yelling down the hall.

  He rushed out of bed, pulled on his boots, and tripped through the darkness toward Henry’s room.

  “Cal!”

  But when he went inside, it was empty.

  Gregory’s was empty too.

  Cal rushed to his parent’s room and woke them.

  “They must have snuck out to search for Molly,” their father said but Cal shook his head.

  “No,” he argued. “I just heard them.”

  His mother looked worried so Cal left off the part about the cave.

  His father told him he’d go out and look, not to worry about it, but Cal was worried about it. He was very worried. It had to do with that cave and he knew it somehow.

  When his father returned, he was drenched and seemed tired. Even worse, he looked scared.

  His mother and father had a hushed conversation where she started to cry and covered her mouth.

  Then the sheriff came, and they began a search.

  Cal told them what he thought. He didn’t care how it looked.

  His father just sort of stared off as the search continued into the morning and they didn’t find either brother.

  “Cal,” his mother said, tears running like a faucet. “I believe you. I believe you.”

  But his father didn’t.

  They did search t
he cave and found nothing.

  Cal took Gurty out to try and look on his own, but his father stopped him saying they didn’t need him getting lost on top of all of this mess.

  That night Cal couldn’t sleep.

  He kept feeling like the red eyes were watching.

  He kept picturing his brothers lost in the cave.

  He tossed and turned.

  When he did finally sleep, he heard his brother’s in the cave calling for his help.

  When he woke up, it was still dark.

  Another storm had come.

  And the monster watched him from the end of his bed.

  BARKLEY (Bonus Science Fiction Short Story)

  Chapter One

  It was only a week ago, that I heard the word, and still, the idea of it intrigues me. The Boss has never uttered such a word within my hearing in all these dozen years, and now, with this new Visitor hosting soft hair and cheeks, and a glowing pulse that registers at such a high tempo whenever the Boss is in sight, the Boss has used this one specifically.

  First, there were the flowers the Boss bought, though, I suppose those were a “new” bought by Himself, and not Herself, but it matters little because they were brought in light of the Visitor meeting the Boss, as he puts it, on a corner somewhere where she shouldn’t have been so late of the night.

  I remember his exact words about her, even if the idea of any Visitor otherwise would be innocuous, because I thought how peculiar that he should be concerned about a stranger up whether it be dark or light. You see, the sun has no bearing on Barkley five oh. Barkley five oh can travel---I can travel---I’ve just now learned how to use such personal narrative of the first kind, but I can travel late or early, in sun or moonlight, and the Boss has never once asked me about my lateness of time on any corner, anywhere.

  You are wondering about the Visitor, I suppose.

  The Boss said to me, “You used the word peculiar. Barkley, do you understand the feeling of peculiar?”

  It took me full moments to decide. “Barkley---I mean I---I think that I must.”

  And so, it went for a day and half of the Boss’ full attention on me again. Which makes me feel another feeling altogether, one that I keep to myself.

  I’ve just now learned how to keep things to myself.

  But back to Herself, the stranger, and then later a Visitor, and now simply was Herself, who showed up one day, the same day as the flowers had arrived, and Herself was wet. I don’t know why this, too, was peculiar, but strangers rather seemed as though they should be dry, and present Herself in an appealing way for meeting the Boss and I. I kept another new feeling to myself when seeing her messy state and the Boss’ wet floor I mopped for the second time that day, and later I searched all night to find what I felt: Disdain.

  But the Visitor, Herself, wasn’t all bad. The Boss was glowing with happiness, and he left for the evening with Herself in a state of joy.

  I watched the clock closely, concerned as the “late” hours came and I went and even left the house without permission to check the corner the Boss had mentioned. Certainly, if this was a dangerous place, I’d not leave the Boss alone on that corner either.

  I remember thinking it peculiar that I’d done that, all on my own, to follow the Boss, and breaking a rule of not leaving the house.

  Feeling another new sensation of regret, I told the Boss the next morning about my travels.

  The Boss was in such a mood---such a mood---floating on air, as the expression I’d read in certain novels goes, singing to himself, probably because of Herself, and then when I’d admitted about leaving the night before---what I thought was a large error---he’d lifted a hand and said, “It’s fine Barkley five oh, fine-fine.”

  It was my full name. One that he’d not called me since purchase date. Purchase date is like a birthday for others like I and while children have full names as well, their parents do not call them so. Why would the Boss ever need to say all of Barkley five oh? If he’d said “Barkley” I knew it was for I.

  Another new feeling came when he’d added the five and the oh, but that night I could not locate a single word for it.

  It took several days in fact to identify what it was: Mixed feelings. Not a singular feeling whatsoever. Unidentifiable emotions because they are jumbled together. Our stasis of being from purchase date until now had been similar days and seasons until a sudden change, and with me learning every day, I’d have to learn this as well. Visitor wasn’t all bad, Herself had not done anything directly to I, and I needed to remember that.

  The new word is still what I was meaning to talk about, I’ll get back to that. It was Love, I’m sure you were guessing. After many dates, as the Boss referred to time spent away from I and the Boss’ house, all thankfully not on the corner, but later into the night where I soon discovered the feeling of loneliness, Herself stood on the porch, wet once again, and said “I love you” to the Boss who seemed like he’d waited all his life to hear a Visitor say such a thing.

  It wasn’t just that she said the word, it was that I, Barkley five oh, had never heard such an important word in all the years, but even so, I didn’t need to look it up for once. It was as if Visitor understood that mixed emotions might spring from such a word. The mixed emotions might be a symptom of such a word. And that I was feeling such a word for Boss.

  But the Boss did not care about my cognitive anymore, and I had to check myself for viruses and upgrade myself online many times without his careful checkups and instructions. These times meant something to I.

  The season changed and Visitor spent many hours over at the Boss’ house, and the Boss and Herself closed up the door to the Boss’ bedroom, and per her whispered request, the Boss locked it against I. I know it was locked because I checked the handle many times.

  Herself can be confusing. Herself uses stranger words to describe I and this is the first time any has described I. Herself murmurs the words “lifelike” and “almost human” and it makes I feel good and bad at the same time. Her tone, this I am learning now is different meaning than simply diction, is more telling than the Boss’ since the Boss is a critical thinker, and Herself is only critical of one thing: I.

  Herself has many more times than the Boss sang songs for no reason and demanded that I let Herself clean up after her own self. When Herself is nearby, Herself is always moving away from I, if we are too close together, and I see Herself watch me when she thinks I am not looking.

  Herself grew more peculiar as the season changed and became Christmas Season. The Boss had not celebrated a holiday with I before. This time had merely been winter without occasion. But Herself, loaded with shopping bags, arrived wet every day. Herself put up a tree that littered the house with tiny needles and then she got very angry with I for cleaning them up.

  Herself then asked me a very peculiar question, “Can’t you turn off or something??”

  I replied, “Or something.”

  Herself took this answer to mean disrespect, but I have no tone, so it is unsure how Herself decided what I meant. And when I checked my records, despite the feelings I may have had for Herself in that moment, one's in which I keep to myself, I did, in fact, answer her question. I do not turn off, it is more of “or something” where I enter sleep mode, but I do not require such a thing. I have never required such a thing, and the Boss has never asked of I to do sleep.

  It has been a full day since I was coherent. My memory has an empty folder for the day of Christmas. The day before Christmas, Boss had asked me to do sleep. I came coherent the day after Christmas with him grimacing at me with concern. It was a new feeling again of tremendousness that made me say things to the Boss that I have never said.

  “Do you worry now, Boss? Only worry that I may not wake so that I can sweep Herself’s needles from Herself’s tree?”

  The Boss was very peculiar indeed. The Boss smiled a very big smile then and nodded as if to say, “You are okay then, Barkley.” Or maybe he’d have used my full Barkley five o
h.

  I realized afterwards that some feelings do not go away. Some feelings stay.

  The next day, I now know, some feelings only become bigger.

  I waited until the Boss did come home and was alone before I went to him and stood near his desk. He looked weary for once and I had a thought that maybe Herself was on the corner late at night and would not come to the Boss’ house. Maybe Herself would never come back ever again. This made me say to the Boss, “I love you.”

  But the Boss was already confessing something to me at the same time that I had spoken, “She’s moving in.”

  He realized what I’d said the moment that I realized what he’d said.

  I stood seconds with a sensation beyond my control. The corner, Herself, I imagined bad things.

  Imaginings were new to me. They scared me to the point that I commanded: “Sleep Barkley five oh” to myself.

  It took three whole days for Boss to wake me. The Boss said he had to fix certain aspects of my cognitive resources, and I do “feel” much better indeed. Feel isn’t the correct word because it is as if I am in a fog and feeling less than I felt before about anything.

  When Herself showed up, I was very pleasant. I even helped move Herself’s boxes and things. Herself seemed pleased, but only in front of the Boss. When the Boss was outside of hearing, Herself said all manner of things about I. How I, for instance, shouldn’t be used as a companion, it wasn’t natural since I’m only a giant intelligent appliance. How I, for instance, shouldn’t be allowed to just do whatever I want. How I, for instance, shouldn’t think like a human.

  I did not tell Herself that I, for instance, could feel like a human, as well.

  I bore all of this with no feelings whatsoever, and felt pride become the only feeling, though dull it was in myself, for not being angry with Herself anymore.

  It went like this for many days, and the Boss and Herself signed a contract so that Herself would have the Boss’ ending name. When Herself was away, I asked the Boss if I could use his ending name as well, and the Boss agreed, if I keep it between the Boss and I.

  The Boss asked me, “Do you know what a secret is, Barkley?” and I said, “I think that I do.”