Shards

by Shane Jiraiya Cummings

  "Daniel. Daniel Caruthers."

  "Pleased to meet you."

  "You too," he answered without thinking.

  Daniel kept a wary distance while he studied the shape named Blake.

  After moments, Blake broke the silence, "Umm, Dan, you might want to move."

  "Why? What are you going to do?"

  "Nothin' mate. It's just that ..." Blake pointed toward Daniel's legs.

  He dreaded looking down but couldn't resist the urge. What passed for his hips disappeared through a white sheet identical to the one on the other table---yet he didn't feel a thing. His arms, legs, and body were as vague and ethereal as Blake's. He flinched and the world spun again, a crazy whirligig of greyness, to find himself in the centre of the room under the light of an overhanging lamp.

  "How'd you do that?" Blake asked.

  "What?"

  "You blinked out for a sec."

  Daniel fixated on the swirls that replaced his absent flesh. "What's happened to me?"

  Blake glided forward across the concrete. "Well, the last thing I remember was eating dinner. Something was caught in my throat, and then ... and then I was here. You?"

  "I ... was in the car. There was a light, just a flash really. I don't remember anything else." He studied the slab with which he'd just been merged. Small drying patches of brown saturated through its covering cloth. The shape beneath looked human, vaguely so, but he couldn't tell.

  He grabbed for the cloth with a shadowy hand, only to pass through it, groping at nothingness.

  "It's no good, mate. I tried that already," Blake said. "It's a safe bet that's us under those sheets though."

  Despite a yearning to throw up or to shout to the heavens, Daniel felt nothing---except an itch. Like the feeling an amputee experiences after losing a limb, he struggled against a palpable loss. The absence of the physical ached, but only in his thoughts. That was all he had left.

  From beyond the door, Daniel heard muffled voices approaching. "Someone's coming," he whispered, feeling strangely exposed.

  "What do you want me to do, mate? Hide under the table?"

  A face, dark with stubble and suntan, appeared in the glass window inset into the door. A second later, the door swung open, admitting the man and another trailing behind. Both men wore the aqua-coloured garb of hospital staff.

  "I thought you said you heard voices," the stubbled man said.

  His blonde-haired companion nodded. "Yeah, I swear I did."

  "We're right here!" Daniel stepped in front of them and waved his arms.

  They didn't react.

  "Sorry, maybe it came from room four," said the blonde man. "You know the weird stuff that's gone down in there,"

  "Yeah," the other replied, walking up to the table housing Daniel's body. "When did this one come in? There's no tag."

  "Less than an hour ago," the blonde said, "paperwork's still upstairs."

  "Hey, I'm right here!" Daniel moved to the other side of the slab and floated inches in front of the darker man's face.

  "Save your breath, Dan. They won't hear us." Blake coasted around the room. "We're dead."

  The man pulled back the sheet. Daniel's sheet. "Hey!" Daniel protested.

  His face, his flesh and blood face, was crumpled. He wore a look of surprise, nearly lost amid the carnage inflicted by the metal and glass of the car accident.

  The sense of finality overwhelmed him.

  The room swirled again as he reeled from the table. Only the details of his ruined and very dead face remained constant as the world wavered.

  "Sorry you had to see that, mate." Blake hovered close by.

  "Oh God. I have a wife and kids. What's gonna happen to Sarah now I'm ..." Daniel trailed off into silence.

  "Jeez," said the stubble-faced examiner. "That can't have been fun."

  The blonde man nodded but said nothing.

  At his shoulders, Daniel and Blake looked on as the examiner covered Daniel's corpse.

  Suddenly sniffing, the blonde man raised his nose and looked around the room.

  "What is it?" the other examiner asked.

  "I can smell something. Something sweet."

  "Yeah sure. You only get disinfectants and death down here," the darker man said. "I can't smell anything, except maybe porky over there." He pointed to Blake's remains.

  "Hey! Screw you, dirtbag," said Blake.

  "Come on, it's always cold in here. I hate this room," the blonde man said.

  The other examiner nodded, then turned for the door.

  The lights flicked off, followed by the door closing with a thud, which echoed through the room and into the corridor beyond. As the sound of footsteps retreated, a gentle draft wafted through the room, carrying the fragrances of lavender and roses.

  "You smell that?" said Blake, a disembodied voice in the darkness.

  "Flowers, a whole bouquet of them. Like the ones I brought home to Sarah last Valentines Day. She loved roses. Lavender too. The florist put a sprig in the bouquet for me."

  "More like Eucalyptus to me. My ex used to burn it in those little oil burner things around the house. I loved that smell." Blake paused. "When things were bad between us, that smell was sometimes the only reason I'd come home."

  "I'll miss Sarah---and the kids. It's going to break my heart to not see them grow up."

  "I'll miss the Colonel's Three-Piece Feed, but what are you gonna do?" Blake laughed. "That's why I'm here in the first place."

  "What do we do now, do you reckon?" asked Daniel.

  "We wait for the light, I guess. Isn't that how it works?"

  Together they waited in the darkness as a breeze swirled through the room. An interlude between death and something else, bearing lavender, eucalyptus, and aromas of lives left behind.

  * * *

  Cruel Summer: Sand

  The hole was impressive, yawning---big enough to accommodate Dad. Rueben was pleased.

  "Tuck your legs in, Daddy," he shovelled sand like an artisan, bathed in the midday sun.

  In this corner of the beach, only wind-blown sand offered company. Reuben had chosen his spot carefully.

  He was a little curious when Dad's eyes widened in surprise, his head then slumping sideways into the loose sand.

  Waiting for Dad's ruse to end, Reuben piled and shaped more sand, creating a landmark around Dad's slumped head.

  Finally losing patience, Reuben stomped off for an ice-cream, leaving Dad to sleep for awhile. Marching away, he didn't notice Dad sink steadily beneath the sand.

  * * *

  Dread Seasons Quartet: Rainbow-Speckled Field

  The butterflies flittered between the flowers, caught in the euphoria of their sweet springtime feast. A million flowers bloomed in the meadow, a riotous explosion of colour.

  The local kids frolicked among the long stems, enraptured by the living rainbow tapestry. A chest-high carpet of velvety grass was woven across the meadow, providing an intense green underlay. Wind rippled across the grass, eddying in complex currents.

  Something rustled the undergrowth, just a few short metres from Mindy's feet.

  "Jacqui! Something's over here!"

  Nearby, Jacqui picked at a cluster of marigolds, inspecting them with the clinical eye of a scientist.

  "Don't be such a wimp," she said, still fixated on the flowers. "It's probably just a rabbit. Or a rat."

  "A rat!" Mindy shrank away.

  A grey, floppy-eared hare emerged from the grass, bounded past her legs, and disappeared again.

  "It was a hare!" Her heart pounded.

  Engrossed in the flowers, Jacqui didn't bother replying.

  Fevered shouting drew Mindy's attention to the boys. From the gentle knoll, she watched Mark and Josh chasing butterflies through the meadow. Becca trailed them, her head barely visible above the grass line.

  "I caught one!" Josh shouted.

  Carefully cupping his hands, he waited for Mark and Becca to inspect his prize.

  Mindy tore h
er gaze from Josh and the others to watch the grass. The undergrowth around her buzzed with movement.

  Flashes of brown and grey streaked past; dozens of rabbits swarmed around her. Clumps of colour quivered in their wake.

  The last rabbit paused by her feet and looked up at her with solemn brown eyes.

  "Get out of here," it whispered, in perfect English, before bouncing into the undergrowth after its kin.

  She blinked, stifled a giggle, blinked again, and then shuddered against the chill prickling her skin.

  A cold, heavy sensation sank through her stomach.

  "Becca?" Josh called, stealing her attention.

  Josh and Mark stood in the centre of the meadow, casting their eyes around for Becca.

  She was gone.

  "Bec!" Tension edged Josh's voice.

  "Jacqui? You seen Becca?" Mindy kept a nervous eye on the foliage.

  No answer came.

  She turned to find no trace of Jacqui. Her cluster of marigolds fluttered in the breeze.

  "Josh? Where's Jacqui?" she squeaked, verging on panic.

  A tiger-striped butterfly drifted where Josh stood only moments before.

  Everyone had vanished.

  Waist-high grass, strewn with endless daffodils, tulips, and other garish flowers, encircled her. The colours danced and swayed, flirting with the morning sun.

  Movement at her feet startled her.

  The grey hare she spotted earlier approached with caution through the undergrowth.

  Like the rabbit, it pinioned her with soulful eyes. "Don't move," it warned, in a British accent.

  She gaped at the hare, unsure what to do. Tears loomed.

  "Quiet," it whispered, "the moles are hunting. Just. Don't. Move."

  The wind caressed the long grass, as she stood, rigid, alone, trapped amidst the ripples of a rainbow-speckled field.

  * * *

  Cruel Summer: Sun

  Hopping from foot to foot, Reuben struggled against the sizzling carpark asphalt. The line to the ice-cream van was hot and humbling.

  A pretty girl with pale eyes walked past, sensuously licking her cone. Beyond her, another ice-cream van painted garish red sat unattended.

  Bounding over to it, he sought refuge from the battering sun beneath its canopy.

  A clownish man appeared at the window, beckoning him inside. Maddened by the heat, Reuben eagerly complied. A blast of frost welcomed him as he entered through the back door.

  The clown offered him a jagged smile and a melting maggot-white cone.

  The van door slammed shut behind Reuben, muffling his scream.

  * * *

  Dread Seasons Quartet: Naked Azure Sky

  "Not far now," Jake muttered to himself. "I'm gonna beat you yet, you arid son-of-a-bitch."

  The sky overhead blazed a raw sapphire blue, fuelled by the bloated sun as it hovered at the edge of noon. Ahead, an expansive stretch of rock, sand, and cracking salt shimmered in the boiler-room heat. A ragged line of hills enclosed the valley, holding the green, temperate world forever at bay.

  As he shook the diminishing bottle of water, a fuzzy sense of euphoria tingled through his head and down his arms until his hairs stood on end.

  "Another two miles, maybe three." He pointed the water bottle toward the line of hills. "I'll be the first to conquer this damn valley."

  The camera trembled in his hand, but faithfully recorded every step and spoken thought.

  "That fool Dennison paid the price," he mused. "Didn't bring enough water. Dropped dead within sight of his car."

  The camera captured everything for posterity.

  Stepping onto the salt lake, he walked along the tracks he gouged this morning. His solo dawn expedition across the valley had been slow. The salt flats were treacherous, trapping him in stinging waist-deep sinkholes. The return wasn't much better.

  "Gotta follow the tracks. No surprises now."

  The heat battered down. Sweat saturated his khakis but was soon snatched away. Despite the lotion, the back of his neck burned like unquenched fire.

  His original tracks were near-forgotten scars, a tattered line scored into the salt. Step after awkward step, he faithfully retraced them.

  He squinted up at the swollen furnace cooking the sky. The sun refused to budge from its midday throne.

  He clamped his eyes shut and carelessly splashed water across his face.

  "Ah, that's good. Time for ... dessert," he stammered.

  When he opened his eyes, a single line of tracks banked off to the right. Another to the left.

  "What?"

  In the haze, the hilly ranges were identical.

  Waves of heat flushed through his body; his head a pressure-cooker, ready to burst.

  "Gotta sit. Bearings. Bearings ... ummm ..."

  The camera recorded a long pause.

  He crouched over the burning ground, and in halting motions, unhooked his pack. He slung it off. He dropped the water bottle to wipe his face.

  Blinking feverishly, he reached out for the bottle, but groped instead the course texture of salt.

  "Shit!"

  The bottle and pack were both sinking into the greedy earth. The ground beneath his knees sagged.

  He crawled, struggling against the heat sandwiching him into the pliant earth. But the salt lake was too vast. An unremitting monolith.

  Abrasive, desiccating salt flowed into his every pore.

  About him, the pockmark-line of footsteps was swallowed. Every trace of his epic trek devoured by the invidious earth.

  "Just two miles," he croaked, collapsing on his back. Salt crusted his lips and trickled free as he choked out his last breath.

  Infused with salt and sand, he lay defeated, a victim of the unconquered valley. Another claimed prize, basking in the infinity of the naked azure sky.

  * * *

  Cruel Summer: Sky

  Ashley reclaimed her spot on the towel, sprawling out to catch the sun's rays from every angle. She removed her sunglasses with fingers sticky from ice-cream, opening her face to the warmth of the sky.

  An endless vortex of azure paling to indigo filled her vision. A contrast to the hectic bustle of bodies and mismatched colours, the sky was awesome. Breathtaking.

  She continued to stare, captivated by the brilliant shades of blue as they swirled and danced. A majestic infinity.

  Enveloping.

  Invasive.

  #

  Headed for the surf, Todd nudged Jamie, pointing to a sunbathing girl with vacant eyes. Eyes the colour of the sky.

  * * *

  Dread Seasons Quartet: The Rustle of Autumnal Leaves

  "Hold up, Brian!" Hayden called, as his friend tore off down the street.

  "Catch up ya loser!" Brian slowed down anyway.

  Rugged up against the constant drizzle, Hayden found it difficult to keep up with his friend's energy. He only gave up his computer and relented to go out into the bleak afternoon after hours of Brian's goading.

  He soon caught up to Brian, but noticed a fine layer of mist had collected along the sleeves of his Parka. "We should head back soon."

  Brian said nothing. Instead, he scanned the street for something to do.

  The streets were wide, much wider than those of the city, and near-deserted. Every street in the town was lined with trees that stood naked against the grey autumn sky. The blanket of leaves covered the town in rich shades of auburn, amber, and brown.

  "Hey, check that out," Brian pointed to a huge mass of leaves.

  Where Brian pointed, Hayden saw a roughly circular clump of sodden leaves spilled out onto the road.

  "Can you see that stuff above the leaves?" Brian asked.

  "I don't get it. What stuff?"

  "The black stuff," said Brian. "Like a whole swarm of flies or somethin'. They're jumping in and out of those leaves."

  Hayden concentrated hard as he studied the clump of leaves; Brian had tricked him before. The leaves were darker than normal, almost the shade of
rust, and wet-looking. The clump was especially dense and wide, having seeped from the gutter to cover about a third of the street in a ragged circular pattern.

  "I just see some old leaves," he said.

  "What about that?" Brian challenged, pointing at the leaves again.

  "Stop foolin' around," Hayden eyed his friend suspiciously. A knot formed in his stomach.

  "Come on!" said Brian. "You're tellin' me you can't see those gold bits? Could be coins. Might be worth somethin'."

  "Sorry. I just see leaves," Hayden edged away. "Maybe we should get going."

  "No. Not until you tell me you see it too!"

  "Forget it. Let's go."

  "But the flies look so weird. I'm gonna catch one to take home and scare my sister."

  "Brian, let's go," Hayden grabbed him by the arm.

  "No! I'm at least gonna get some of those coins," Brian shook off the restraining hand.

  He stopped at the edge of the leaves and bent down. Awe was obvious on his face as he reached toward the rust-coloured mass.

  "Don't!" Hayden called.

  Brian's eyes widened as his fingers delved into the slimy leaves.

  In a terrible blur, he disappeared, sucked by the arm into the clump of leaves. Barely a leaf rustled or fluttered to mark his passing.

  "Brian!" Hayden screamed.

  For long seconds he stood dumfounded, reaching a hand toward the leaves before snatching it back.

  The wind funnelled through the street behind him. It swept up the crimson mass of leaves, scattering the pile to desolation. Only solid, naked road lay beneath. Hayden stared at the bare asphalt, trembling, amid the rustle of autumnal leaves.

  * * *

  Cruel Summer: Surf

  "Come on!" called Todd.

  Jamie paddled against the breaking white-water, struggling to reach him. He disappeared from view with the swell of every wave.

  The safety flags were tiny, fluttering streamers in the distance. Colourful smudges marked the timid people as they clung to the shore. No one, except him and Jamie, was more than waist-deep in the water.

  Then he saw it. Them. Seething masses of seaweed, flowing with the tide.

  The first, careless brush burned like acid.