This is part of an ongoing series called Graveyard Shift. It can be read alone or you can roll back in my archives and start from the beginning.
August,28, 2005 A young and idealistic “Officer Jimmy”, as he was then known had been stationed at his favorite speed trap, the intersection of 2nd and main. It was at the bottom of a hill and cars came down it way too fast. This particular intersection was home to a very busy crosswalk and Jimmy, as every other cop in town was concerned about someone getting hit by a speeder. A lot of stops were made there out of a regard for safety and of course revenue generation and many tickets were issued. Officer Jimmy wasn’t big on tickets, he was more about keeping people safe. He believed that “Protect and Serve” was a lost notion, that cops now were all about busting heads and acting tough. Not him. He would never be like that. He always tried to live by his father’s famous mantra, “Always be nice. Until it’s time not to.” He had heard it so many times he might as well have had it tattooed on his forehead. It was his go-to first reaction in almost all situations and it had served him well.
Until that night.
Jimmy had been sitting in his car getting caught up on some reports when he spotted the headlights come over the hill. He immediately saw that the driver was operating erratically and speeding. He put his report book on the passenger seat and studied the vehicle’s approach to the intersection. He watched as the car screeched to a stop well over the line. Jimmy waited until the car crossed the intersection, pulled out behind him and hit the siren and lights. The driver pulled over immediately and Jimmy could see him fumbling in the glove box. He approached the car from the drivers side and pointed his flashlight at the driver. A clearly disoriented and intoxicated young man squinted back at him. His pupils were dilated and when he spoke all doubt about his condition was removed. “Good evening Officer.” His voice was slurred. “Good evening. License and Registration please.” The young man handed them through the open window. Jimmy reviewed them quickly, put them in his breast pocket and ordered him out of the car. The young man complied. He was wobbly as he stood up and he reeked of alcohol. “Been drinking tonight?” Jimmy asked him. “Yessir.” The young man replied. “Do I get points for honesty?” “You do, but you lose points for driving shitfaced at 11:30 on a Tuesday night.” “I’m sorry, Sir.” “Sir?, I’m not a sir. It’s Officer McInerney. And I’m not sure ‘Sorry’ cuts it when we’re talking about public safety.” The young man bowed his head sheepishly. Officer McInerney gave him a thorough sobriety test which the young man summarily failed. He knew it. He put out his hands and waited for the handcuffs. Jimmy had another idea. “This your correct address?” He was holding the young man’s license. “Yes.” “That’s two blocks from here. I’m going to follow you home. You’re going to go in your house and you are going to stay there. And you will think twice before doing this again. Got it?” “Yes, Officer.” The young man was clearly relieved and elated. “Get in and go. Slowly”, Jimmy instructed. The young man got in before Jimmy could change his mind. As promised he drove home. Slowly. Jimmy followed him home and watched the young man park his car, get out and walk to the front door. He waved to Jimmy, showed his keys in his hand and went inside. Goodnight Henry James Douglas. He felt pretty good about how he had handled the situation.
Later that night his quiet shift was interrupted by dispatch ordering all available units to a vehicular crash across town. He could already hear the Fire Department and EMT’s sirens en route to the scene. As he threw his Crown Vic into gear and headed out he heard over the radio, “Multiple injuries, possible fatality.” When Officer McInerney arrived on the scene his stomach momentarily sunk. The two vehicles had collided head on. There was glass and debris everywhere. EMT’S and Firefighters scrambled as they attended to the victims. He immediately recognized one of the vehicles. His heart almost stopped. He looked around and there was a bloodied Henry James Douglas being pushed into the back of a cruiser, handcuffed. As his head was ducked into the cruiser Henry turned to look at him. They made eye contact. Jimmy momentarily fought off the sinking feeling in his stomach as he rushed to assist the first responders with the accident scene. This is not going to end well…
This is part of an ongoing series called Graveyard Shift. It can be read alone or you can roll back in my archives and start from the beginning.
Please don’t puke. Please don’t puke Sergeant Valentine pleaded to an unspecified deity. “You ok back there, girl?”, he asked his passenger. The young lady lazily lifted her head from her lap and managed to grunt “Yes.” A questionable burp followed. She put her head back in her lap. She’s gonna puke in my nice clean squad car. He breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled in front of her house. It wasn’t student housing or a dormitory, instead it was a private residence. He put the cruiser in park, got out and opened the rear door. He extended a hand to her and said, “OK, you’re home. Come on out.” Realizing that she was unable to do it on her own he reached into the back seat and helped her to her feet. He threw her arm around his shoulder and slowly helped her up the cobblestone walk to the front door. As he was about to try the handle, a woman about his age opened the door. “What’s going on?”, she asked quizically. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Sergeant Valentine and I think I have your daughter, this is your daughter?” She nodded in agreement. “Is she in trouble?” “No, ma’am. I took her home under protective custody.” The mother looked confused. “Your daughter has had too much to drink this evening.” “My daughter doesn’t drink!” she exclaimed. “Are you quite sure about that?” Mike asked her. “Positive. Her dad was a mean drunk and she cringes at the smell of it.” The hair on the back of Mike’s neck stood up. There was clearly more going on here than he thought. This wasn’t adding up. As if on cue, the young woman stepped off of the steps and began to vomit violently into the bushes. Mike held her up, instinctively pulling her hair back. “Ma’am, if you’re quite sure. You ARE quite sure?” “Yes.” “If you’re quite sure”, he continued. “I’d like to have her taken to the hospital and have a tox screen done on her. Something is not right.” The mother stepped out of the house and knelt down to comfort her daughter. The young woman had ceased vomiting. Mike assisted the mother in sitting her upright on the stairs. As he did the sleeve of her shirt cleaved and Mike’s trained eye immediately zoomed in on the track marks on her forearm. Well that explains a lot, he thought. He called for a ambulance and waited with them until it arrived.
This is part of an ongoing series called Graveyard Shift. It can be read alone or you can roll back in my archives and start from the beginning.
“I swear, she came in like that.” The heavy set bartender said. “I never served her a drink. She never ordered one.” “I’m not sure I believe you,” Officer Jimmy McInerney said. “I don’t care if you believe me, I’m telling you the truth.” “Watch your attitude”, Jimmy shot him a look. He wasn’t the biggest guy on the force but his mannerisms and demeanor commanded respect. “Look”, the bartender said. “She came in, she went right to the dance floor, was hanging all over some guys. Made a real spectacle of herself so I had the bouncers toss her out.” “Will your bouncers corroborate that story?” “Absolutely.” “Do a better job on the sidewalk also. You dumped her out there and a bunch of assholes did nothing but stand there and look at her. That shit reflects on you as a business. Got it?” “You got it, Jimmy”, the bartender replied. “Officer McInerney.” “Got it, Officer McInerney.” Jimmy gave him a long look as if to say “I mean it” and walked out. For emphasis he banged his nightstick on the edge of the mahogany bar. The crowd cleared the way for him as he stepped outside. The band of idiots that felt it was ok to watch a drunk girl helpless on the sidewalk without helping was gone. With a smirk, Jimmy mused to himself, Valentine would be proud.
Officer James “Jimmy” McInerney wasn’t a hardass by any means, despite the side of him that he had just displayed. In fact, he was known as a fair, honest and reasonable man around town. He had grown up here, was a very popular guy in High School and after graduating college in New York moved back and joined the Police force. Being a familiar figure around town, Jimmy let a lot of people off with warnings. It was his nature. His style of policing worked in a small college town. But in recent years the town had changed.
Jimmy had watched his quiet college town of 35,000 during the school year and 25,000 in the summer grow into a bustling community. A new teaching Hospital, followed by a Software Company had drawn young professionals and downsized workers from all over. Urban sprawl and a boom in population followed. The sharp increase in population forced the town’s Police Department to modify its procedures and adapt to a city mentality. Jimmy reluctantly joined in lockstep. He had to. He knew that he was lucky to still have a job after the events of August 2005.
On the night of August 28, 2005 a young and idealistic “Officer Jimmy”, as he was then known had been stationed at his favorite speed trap, the intersection of 2nd and main. It was at the bottom of a hill and cars came down it way too fast. This particular intersection was home to a very busy crosswalk and Jimmy, as was every other cop in town was concerned about someone getting hit by a speeder. A lot of stops were made there out of a regard for safety and of course revenue generation and many tickets were issued. Officer Jimmy wasn’t big on tickets, he was more about keeping people safe. He believed that “Protect and Serve” was a lost notion, that cops now were all about busting heads and acting tough. Not him. He would never be like that. He always tried to live by his father’s famous mantra, “Always be nice. Until it’s time not to.” He had heard it so many times he might as well have had it tattooed on his forehead. It was his go-to first reaction in almost all situations and it had served him well.
This is part of an ongoing series called Graveyard Shift. It can be read alone or you can roll back in my archives and start from the beginning.
Sergeant Michael Valentine was stuck in traffic. He was supposed to meet his partner at 11. He didn’t have to punch in, he just hated to be late. Now, road construction, his tax dollars at work, was holding him up. He was getting antsy when it occurred to him that he was a cop, why didn’t he throw on the reds? Then he realized that the reds won’t help him through the oncoming traffic, it was one lane. He punched the steering wheel. Take a deep breath, he scolded himself.
He called his partner and told him he would be late and to meet at the coffee shop. It was a short walk for him and Mike could pick up both him and a decent cup of coffee. That being handled he focused again on the traffic, his Agita, and his anxiety. Cheryl loved to fuck with me when this happened. This was one of those moments that reminded him of his ex. When he had one of his “moments” of anxiety, impatience or intolerance it would always end up in a fight. Despite the conventional wisdom of leaving him alone and letting him work through it Cheryl always picked and prodded at him and made an otherwise small thing into a blowout. One that regrettable things were said, things you don’t forget. It’s bad enough that I’m wrapped tighter than an airport sandwich, do I have to think of her every time I get worked up? The traffic started to move. He could feel the tension in his chest ease a bit. He lit another cigarette and waved to the flagman as he drove by.
“Hop in” he said as he flung the passenger side door open. In came 2 paper cups of hot coffee immediately followed by his partner James “Jimmy” McInerney. Mike put the coffees in the cup holders and opened the tab on his. “Extra cream extra sugar?” , he asked. “It’s your friggin’ heart attack”, Jimmy replied. “Spare me the commentary, dickhead. Jus’ asking. Coffee is all I have until I can have a drink.” He took a sip. Jimmy laughed. “You don’t need either. The shape you’re in, you could donate your body to Science Fiction.” “You’re right. And Fuck you”, Mike said as he tossed his spent cigarette out the cracked window. They drove in silence, the hum of the tires as they drove down Main St. provided the filler for their silence. They focused on police work, scanning the crowded sidewalks for signs of trouble.
This was their routine every night, to cruise the main street containing the college bars looking for trouble makers. The establishments generally let out just as their shift started and if there was going to be a fight or some sort of mischief this was the time. Jimmy pointed across Mike’s chest. “There.” He was pointing to a circle of young people. They were gathered around something hidden from their sight. Mike swung the Crown Vic into the opposite side of the street, threw on the lights and blew the siren. Several onlookers turned in response. “Everything ok over here?” He called out through his open window. “Yes, officer. Just a drunk girl.” As the circle opened up they saw a very intoxicated young woman sitting on the ground with a befuddled look on her face. Nobody was really helping her, they were treating her as a curiosity. She was clearly disoriented and in need of help. “You go in and talk to the bartender. That young lady has clearly been overserved. Tell him I’ll shut them the fuck down if they’re not careful. I’ll take her home and swing back for you” Mike said. “K”, Jimmy replied in his usual perfunctory manner and jumped out of the car. Mike stepped out and the crowd scattered. A physically imposing guy of 6’2 and a reasonably muscular 250 pounds with a strong chin and a buzzcut, Sergeant Valentine didn’t need a badge and a gun to clear a crowd. He leaned in, spoke briefly to the young woman and helped her to her feet. As he helped her into the back seat of the car he turned to the crowd. “Maybe next time someone can help out instead of standing around. What the hell is wrong with all of you?” he scolded the crowd. Not one of the bystanders dared to be indignant enough to defend themselves. He leaned in to get the address of the young woman. Once done, he strapped her in and drove off in search of her dorm or housing. He considered, for a brief moment arresting her for Public Intoxication but he had a soft spot for the kids, especially the girls. They were, after all the same age as his daughter.
The clock on the Microwave read 10:38 PM. That microwave is almost as old as me Mike mused. He stood up from the kitchen table, stubbed out his cigarette and put his coffee cup in the sink. He was late for his shift. Goddamn Graveyard shift. Another night of dealing with the crazies, drunks and other dregs of society. He threw his holster over his shoulder and fastened the buckle. If all else fails him, his trusty 9MM never will. He grabbed the jacket off of the back of his chair and went to the door. As he opened it he heard the shuffle of feet in the kitchen. He turned and saw his daughter at the cupboard, she was getting a coffee mug. “The water is still hot if you want the instant stuff.” “No thanks”, she said. “I’ll use the Keurig.” “You gotta have that Starbuck’s crap dontcha Sarah?” he chided. “Leave me alone, Daddy. I’m too tired.” “I’m just playin’ kid.” He looked at her intently. “You ok?” He was worried about her. Between his job and hers he never saw her. She didn’t look good. “I’m fine. Just tired. I would worry about yourself if I was you, Dad. You look like shit.” “Thanks”, he said. “I’m late. Let’s chisel out a spot of time that we can hang out. I miss you.” He couldn’t think of the last time he had spent any real time with her. Maybe it was Thanksgiving. Or Christmas. Who knew, time went by so fast lately. He dug into his breast pocket, pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds and stuck one in his mouth. He lit it, exhaled and coughed. Goddamn things are going to kill me. As if on cue Sarah said, “those things are going to kill you.” They both chuckled. “Got one for me?” He begrudgingly reached into his shirt and tossed the pack to her. She took one and tossed the pack to him. She stared at him sarcastically for a moment until he realized why and tossed her the lighter. “I’m late, kiddo. Gotta go. Love you.” “You too, Dad. I’m going out soon.” “Work or pleasure?, he asked. “Out”, she said. He knew nothing about her lately. Where she went, who she was hanging with. As a Police Sergeant in a college town of 45,000 people, his job had him pulling doubles, living on bad coffee, fast food and no sleep. Consequently, his relationship with his daughter had really suffered. He wasn’t even sure what she was doing for work right now. She had changed jobs so often. His lack of connection with her was haunting him and he didn’t see a break in sight. At least until the kids went home for the summer. “Out. Ok then. Wherever that is, don’t have them call me.” They both chuckled. He went over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you.” “You too, Daddy.” She never looked up from her coffee.
She’s a romantic at heart. Despite all of the ugliness in her world she believes in a Happily Ever After. If anyone should be discouraged by love, it’s her. Yet she persists. She’ll find her White Knight if she has to punch his Noble Steed right in the mouth and knock him off and then drag him away.
He isn’t. He told her at length about how he wanted to believe in a happily ever after but it just wasn’t his nature. He was a man of facts, of pragmatism. Things had to make sense to him. Besides, he didn’t feel he had anything to offer. Women want security, a future. He could offer neither. His final answer was No, he didn’t believe in a Happily ever after. Maybe for someone else but not him. His only cogent offering in the way of explanation was that he was broken beyond repair.
“That’s a shitty answer, coming from you” she said. She was right. He, for the first time had no snappy answer. Not one that would satisfy her.
She asked him to write a Novella. In order to access her big, wonderful heart one must first seduce her mind. He was up to the challenge. After all, it’s just words. He set pen to paper and he wrote a story about a boy and a girl. It was sentimental, it was passionate, and it was genuine. It was also fiction. She loved it. Until the boy dies at the end. It ruined it for her. Where was the happily ever after?
He insisted that this was how the story must be. She insisted that true love always has happy endings. Don’t you see that?, she implored. He didn’t see it. He couldn’t. He could write it, but he didn’t believe it. He’s just not a romantic type.
Then he read what he wrote again. He took in his own words as if reading them for the first time. Who wrote this?, he jokingly asked himself. When he came to the tragic end, he recognized his own voice, his own life, his own tainted and shattered perspective. The boy died at the end because the author refused to believe that he could ever be happy.
Then he read it again. And again. He came to the stunning realization that the guy who wrote this is a romantic. He had to be. He poured his heart out onto paper about what he wanted in his heart of hearts and he called it fiction. He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. He feels unloved, unwanted, unappreciated and lonely to the darkest recesses of his soul. But somehow, through his writing a sliver of light emerged. He believed, he just didn’t feel worthy, and his tactic of shutting people out so that they can’t hurt him simply wasn’t working anymore.
He painfully admitted to himself that yes, he wants love. He wants romance. He wants to savor moments with someone and count the minutes until they are together again. He wants spirited conversation and comfortable silences. He wants passion and intimacy. He wants to give everything to one person without another crushing rejection. He wants crazy. He wants fun. He wants to allow himself to be vulnerable yet unafraid of being hurt.
He wants something he’s never had and until now he thought it was just too late.
Now he wonders if it’s time to tell her that she’s right. She deserves more than anything to have a Happily Ever After. The least that he could do was try to believe with her.
He stood patiently at baggage claim as an endless stream of bags that weren’t his slowly passed by. He wasn’t in a hurry, he had waited so long already.
This is crazy, he muttered to himself. Maybe so, he thought, yet here I am.
It started as a harmless online dalliance. Over a surprisingly short period of time, it evolved into a drug he was dangerously addicted. Deep conversations by phone, erotic exchanges by text, it was a different relationship each and every day. He had tried to back it down, to rein it in but he couldn’t. They were into each other. She claimed an empathic connection, the pragmatist in him couldn’t deny it. He felt it also.
As of today, they had never actually met.
She was profane and classy, beautiful but didn’t know it, vulnerable and strong all at the same time. She had been hurt all of her life by the ones who should have loved her. He complimented her and she rejected it, she didn’t feel worthy. Then she realized that he wasn’t trying to build her up for a fall, he just wanted her to feel good enough. He saw beauty in every one of her quirks. For the first time in years, he was excited about someone.
She believed in destiny. He politely dismissed it, he didn’t believe like she. She had repeatedly told him that she was crazy, but didn’t explicitly tell him to stay away. She would be delighted to learn that he loved crazy. She told him she was all over the map, that she is an emotional roller coaster. He should have been cautious or hesitant to engage. But he wasn’t. She told him that they would get together one day, despite the thousands of miles between them. He repeatedly told himself that this began as a dalliance to have fun with, but it wouldn’t end well.
There were too many obstacles.
Yet, here he was now, just hours away from meeting her face to face.
He took a ride sharing service to the hotel. As the car got closer he could hear and feel the thunderous roar of the great waterfall. He remembered going to Niagara Falls with his parents, he remembered it as a cheesy tourist spot with cheap souvenirs and too many people. When she told him that part of her post-divorce plans was to travel, she mentioned Niagara Falls. His heart skipped a beat, that was a manageable trip for him. Niagara Falls would take on a whole new form in his memory if this weekend turned out as it did in his head.
As he stepped out of the car he grabbed his phone and quickly texted where are you? He collected his bags and paid the driver. As he put his wallet away his phone chirped. At the rail, come find me… She was being playful, as expected. He dashed into the hotel, checked in as quickly as the Desk Clerk could move and paid a bellboy to put his bags in his room, the second key in his breast pocket.
It was a short walk to the main viewing area. He scanned the crowd, the mist stung his face as he tried to find her. He had seen hundreds of pictures of her but she rarely looked the same. To mix it up she had refused to tell him what color her hair was or what she would be wearing. Then he saw her. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. He worked his way through the bustling crowd, gently squeezed in next to her at the rail and politely apologized to the person whose space he had just invaded. Looking straight ahead, he said her name aloud. “You found me! Very impressive”, she said. Her Southern accent was a hundred times sexier than the phone ever allowed it to be. “I knew it was you.” he said. “I could sense your aura.” “You don’t believe in Auras and such bullshit”, she scoffed. “I didn’t believe in a lot of things until I met you…” He turned to look her in the face. No amount of selfies he had viewed could do her justice, she was beautiful. He didn’t tell her, she didn’t like compliments and he didn’t want to cheapen the moment. “So how do you want to begin?”, he asked playfully. “How do you want to finish?”, she teased. “Simultaneous I hope”, he looked deep into her eyes with a huge grin. “Oh my”, she said. “I guess the question is whose room is closer.” He held out his hand and began to lead her away from the rail. She joined her hand in his. They took a few steps and he turned and embraced her. It was at that moment, as he savored the smell of her hair that he realized that the moment had finally come. They were really together. “It’s really you”, he said. “It’s really me”, she said. “We’re wasting time, let’s go.”
They entered the hotel lobby and compared room keys. Hers was closer. The anticipation was getting the best of the both of them. Waiting for the elevator, riding the elevator, walking to the room they tried to keep a casual demeanor but their hands kept dancing around each other as they walked the seemingly endless hallway. At last they reached the room. She pushed the card into the slot.
As the door closed behind them, she slammed into him, pinning him against the door. Her hungry mouth consumed his. He feverishly ran his hands over her body, the curves that she was self conscious about were now his obsession. He grabbed her firmly and picked her up, hungrily kissing her as he made the way to the bed. He laid her down, began to take his shirt off when she rose up from the bed, grabbed him by the neck and pulled him on top of her.
He tore her blouse open and began to kiss her from her neck all the way down. He wanted the moment to last, he patiently and playfully worked his way to her panties. Pulling them aside, he began to pleasure her. At first he teased, then he settled into giving her the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced. The woman who had told him that no man had ever pleasured her in this way was clutching the sheets, crushing his ears with her strong legs and breathlessly panting his name. He persisted until she cried out in pleasure. After, her legs slowly relaxed their grip, she let go of the handful of crumpled bedding and wagged her index finger at him and provocatively motioned for him to come to her.
He stood, his pants falling to the floor and went to her. “Are you pleased?” he asked. “Oh my god, I’ve been missing out on THAT for my entire life? Can you do that again?” “I can, but first I want to do this…” With that he rolled on top of her and entered her. It had been ten years since he had even kissed a woman, it had been forever since a man had made her the center of his affections and they made love for hours. She, after each round, said she wanted to pleasure him. He insisted that it be about her for once. He was savoring the moment, for him her pleasure gave him his. He reveled in giving this beautiful woman the loving that he knew she had been lacking from the moment they first talked.
They woke the next morning in a heap of wrinkled bedding and discarded clothing. They ordered room service, they were ravenous and dehydrated. When the food arrived, they weren’t able to answer the door. She was going down on him and he wasn’t about to let anything interrupt her. They made love again and after, he limped to the door and opened it to find a tray of cold breakfast and stale coffee. They devoured it as if it didn’t matter.
Niagara Falls is a beautiful place, especially if you actually leave the room and enjoy it. They wanted to leave the room, they tried but their passion was insatiable. When they weren’t exploring each other’s bodies, they were talking. Elbows on pillows, staring into each other’s eyes they reminisced on the events that led them here. They laughed, they teased, they talked about things that used to be. They marveled at the fact that they had finally come together. She had once told him that it was a WHEN, not an IF. He hadn’t believed her. He hated false hope. They pinched each other to see if the past two days had actually happened.
He was happy for the first time in as long as he could remember
What they didn’t talk about was what would come next. The 2400 miles that would once again separate them was a sinister figure lurking on their horizon. He knew that he would take it easier than she would, he was accustomed to not being happy. This was just a reprieve from the dull and predictable life that has been void of happiness for so long. But her, he felt bad for her. She deserved to smile, laugh and experience pleasure like she had this weekend every day. And he knew that he could be the one to make her happy. But for those miles and the buoys of life that tied them to where they were.
As they checked out the next morning, they took one last look at the mighty falls, soaking in the cold mist as it splashed their faces. They stared speechlessly, not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking.
Finally, he turned to her. “What’s next?”, he asked her. “For now, I have to go back to my life.” “So then that’s it?” “We’ll figure it out. Destiny, remember?” “I can’t go back to my boring life. My routine of dialysis, sleepless nights, being so far from everyone.” He stared deeply at her and grabbed her by her arms. “And I don’t believe in destiny.” “What do you believe in, then?” she asked. “Tragic endings.” He leaned in and kissed her deep and hard. He then straddled the railing and came to a sitting position. “What are you doing?” she cried out and grabbed for him. “Ending this the only way it can, on a high for a change.”
He pulled his hand from hers and fell backwards, disappearing into the roar of the falls.
I have been tagged by Lisa to finish the story. I like these challenges, they’re fun. In my case it is getting me out of a slump. I had a killer eye infection for the last week and my headache was so intense that blogging was not possible. So, thanks Lisa for getting me moving again. Please check out her blog as well as all of the other fine bloggers who collaborated on this project.
Rules–
1. Copy the story as you receive it.
2. Add to the story in some fashion.
3. Tag another person to contribute to or finish the story.
4. Please use FTS as a tag so I can find it or link back to part 1.
Alexander and Alistair waited in line to check on their flight. It didn’t matter how long the line was, or how tired they were of waiting in it, they were happy to be getting away for a week. Life had not been difficult, but it was still nice to finally get away–alone.
Alexander couldn’t wait to show Alistair around Pompeii and Alistair couldn’t wait to show Alexander around his old home. They enjoyed people watching in the airport and passed time telling stories of the old days.
Finally, it was their turn to check in. Alexander sat his luggage in the bin and watched as a scrawny kid retrieved it and threw it on a conveyor belt. He cringed and crossed his fingers that his cologne didn’t break.
It wasn’t until they were standing by the large window at their gate watching their luggage be thrown around like last week’s trash that they noticed it. Something was not right.
“Hey, Alistair,” Alexander said, pointing out to the luggage cart. “Do you see that?”
Alistair followed Alexander’s finger and squinted. “Yeah. What is that?”
The luggage on one of the other carts was all black with a lightning bolt logo. And sure enough, a black stretch limo with the same logo pulled up directly to the plane and out tumbled the crazy rockers the Zappers and their entourage.
“Oh no,” Alistair moaned. “Those lunatics will be on our flight!”
Alexander sighed. “Horrible. They always get up to some ridiculous shenanigans, but surely they’ll behave themselves in the air?”
“It’s too late to change our tickets?”
“Well, yes. Our luggage is being flung into the bowels of this tin can as we speak.”
The men stared glumly out the window, their previous good mood soured. When they were called to board, they stood in line without speaking, having mutually decided to stoically bear the flight and have fun after landing, when the nutty rockers had gone.
Women chatted behind them in line. “Oh my God! Did you hear that the Zappers are on our flight? I’m totally gonna sneak into first class to see them!”
“I have such a crush on Nikki Zapper! I bet he does something wild and we have to make an emergency landing!”
Alistair and Alexander looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
But all went smoothly during takeoff, and then as one of the flight attendants was giving the safety presentation, a blond man dressed in black leather popped out of the first class section, grabbed her, and kissed her.
Several people in coach lifted up their cell phones to record Nikki as he laid one on Myra, the flight attendant, ooh-ing and aah-ing as they did. Myra was torn, as she was supposed to rebuff any advances by the passengers, no matter how famous; but on the other hand, she had been a global fan of Nikki and the Zappers for years, using her bene of free flights to see them dozens of times. She even had a likeness of Nikki tattooed in her cleavage. Throwing caution to the wind, she kissed Nikki back and soon they, locked in an embrace, were stumbling towards the bathroom – where they would be the newest members of the Mile High Club.
As they often synched with each other over the years, Alistair and Alexander looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Well, I never!” huffed Alistair.
“Indeed!,” puffed Alexander.
“Let the shenanigans begin. Where are those sleepers you packed? Time to take a snooze until the show is over,” said Alistair.
Alexander reached for his carry-on, which was stuffed under his seat, and retrieved enough for both of them. They asked another attendant for a handful of the little booze bottles to wash them down with. Soon they were fast asleep, snoring to beat kingdom come.
Neither one knew how long they had slept, but both were awakened by the throbbing bassline of the latest Nikki and the Zappers tune, “Don’t Harsh My Buzz.” They were shocked to see….
…that the lights in the plane’s cabin had been turned off. Being that it was night time, they couldn’t see a thing in the dark. The bass guitar was still pounding out the beat so loud it shook their insides.
Suddenly an explosion of neon-like lights began flickering all around the plane’s interior, as the Zappers launched into their current number one song. Passengers were crowding into the narrow aisle, and even just standing at their seats, dancing and singing along to the music.
The captain came on the loudspeakers: “Welcome to the party of the year…we present the Zappers for your inflight entertainment. Free drinks for everyone!
A big cheer rocked this unusual concert venue.
“Can you believe this?” Alistair asked as he busted a move right there in his seat.
Alexander looked at Alistair. They were grinning from ear to ear but didn’t roll their eyes at this exciting turn of events.
Cocktails and cups of beer were passed around, as the party continued through the night, 32,000 feet above the ground, but a sudden lurch of the plane made everyone gasp. The plane yawed to the left, then to the right. People screamed and tumbled into each other.
This is your captain…please everyone…sit down and fasten your seat belts…
……..we have a pick of air turbulence. It took repeated announcements from the caption to quieten down the passengers who were still hyped up from all the drinking and dancing. Eventually, everyone was seated, the belts fastened and a hush descended on the plane. Suddenly there was a jerk as the plane lost a lot of height very quickly. It was an air pocket that caused the loss in the plane altitude. There were quite a few screams and shrieks from many people.
The pilot came on air again.
I am sorry ladies and gentlemen we are in the middle of a storm right now. Please keep the seat belts on. I am afraid that we have lost power in one of our engines. I am trying to make an emergency landing………..
…the oxygen masks dropped from their concealed compartments above the passengers.
Alistair and Alexander helped each other putting them on and then they squeezed hands.
The atmosphere had gone from one of enjoymentto panic. A few people had begun to get hysterical. Myra the Stewardess was trying to comfort one particularly distressed woman who couldn’t stop crying.
Then there was a loud bang and a hiss as the cabin filled with smoke. Alistair could just see Alexanders face through the haze. His eyes were scrunched tightly together and his grip on his hand was threatening to cut the blood supply from his fingers, but they were together and that was some comfort.
It was the impact of the plane hitting the water that sent luggage pouring out of overhead compartments and a few chairs broke loose, tumbling bodies around like they were dummies.
Myra lay at an impossible angle. Her legs bent backwards and her head twisted.
A figure lay face down in a black leather jacket and the strings of a broken guitar wrapped around his neck.
After the terrific noise of the impact, everything seemed deathly quiet. Alexander’s eyes opened, tears streaming down his face but he fixed Alistair with a desperate blue stare.
They had survived the crash but so many hadn’t.
A panicked voice suddenly came from over the tannoy system.
“This is the Navigator speaking. If there are any other survivors, please come to the front of the plane and make yourselves known.”
Together Alistair and Alexander got up from their chair and slowly made their way down the plane.
The navigator stood there, in a right mess, another steward was desperately trying to stem the blood flow from his left arm, well what was left of his left arm anyway! They could see by looking into the cockpit was not a good move – the Captain and the Co-pilot were missing. The navigator was mumbling about the fact that the two pilots had suddenly just disappeared into thin air and then all hell broke loose! That the aircraft lurched and then plummetted to the earth.
Alastair and Alex looked at each other in complete disbelief and utter astonishment. Behind them the screams of agony and anguish were filling the small space of the aisle .. and yet when they looked behind them, something was amiss, not quite right, it took them a few moments to comprehend that the loss was actually people. Before the crash, all the seats had been filled with passengers and yet now, if you included the dead, the dying, the subdued expressions of those in shock and the few others still, looking bewildered at them, they came to realise that, a good 50% of their part of the cabin was emptier than it had been?
“Well where, did they go?” Alex said to himself almost as much to the others?
“Which is what l have been trying to say!” mumbled the Navigator, “poof gone! Where who knows, Frank and Thomas were laughing and joking one minute and then l was disentangling myself from metal! Which is why my arm is not right. We didn’t hit the sea, we are not sinking which is good news. From what l could gather as l looked out of the windows as we were skewing across the surface, if anything we were skimming across a swamp!”
“Right!” Al said, “I think we should start to disembark, does this plane have one of those things that are like a Bouncy castle slide?”
“Yes of course.” Answered the Navigator, and with a small cursory move to the steward, he motioned towards the door. The steward after a bit of rough manoeuvring, managed to cast the door open and then aside and for the first time the four of them looked out into the world before them.
An overgrown jungled swampland greeted them, very mangrove looking Alex thought and said as much “Charming, just what we need a bloody jungle!”
“Right, well you must have a passenger list. I suggest we get everyone off the plane as best as we can, there must be other stewards throughout the aircraft? There must be first aid and medical equipment. We need to check the state of the craft itself to see if we are in any immediate danger of blowing up, and then , well then we will have to figure out where the bloody hell we are and what we do?” Alastair said officially.
Alex looked at his friend in confusion, “How do you know all of this?”
“Well l was huge fan of the disaster movies from the 70’s, l am just repeating what they said and it’s common sense surely?”
“Right, well l am very impressed Al, must be said”
“Thanks Alex, however now is not the time for praise, now is the time for action.”
At that moment in time, as the four looked out into the darkness of the surroundings they were now in, they heard something very heavy crashing through the undergrowth! If that wasn’t disturbing enough, the screech was!
“Oh my lord, what the hell is that?” The Navigator moaned.
Before any of them could answer, the undergrowth parted and crashing out towards them was ……..
And here’s my contribution:
an enormous metal beast; it had wheels at the rear but at the front were giant clawed arms which served to change the direction of the machine but also to clear the dense forestation. It halted before the terrified survivors, the massive throbbing engines creating an illusion of life; a black heart of block and pistons beating. In their bewildered state the passengers didn’t see an internal hatch opening, they saw a giant gaping maw that they were certain was going to swallow them whole.
The screaming began and quickly turned to mass hysteria as people fought each other in an effort to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the machine that had so terrified them. Alistair and Alex clung to each other; they too were afraid but their desire not to be separated in this awful moment overrode their natural flight response. Their breath came in short, sharp gasps and Alex could feel Alistair’s knees start to give way.
“Alistair!” he hissed “Come on, you can’t collapse on me now”
Alistair shook his head and tried to lock his knees, he couldn’t let Alex down, but he could still feel the violent trembling that coursed through his body; he clung tighter still and hid his face in Alex’s jacket. Alex’s eyes, meanwhile, were fixed on the hatch in the machine, it was now fully open and someone, or something, was emerging from it. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up and he was aware of being exposed; a quick glance around him confirmed that all the other passengers had fled into the forest. He and Alistair would, it seemed, face this thing alone.
“What do you want?” Even to his own ears, his voice was unsteady. At the sound of his voice, Alistair turned his face away from Alex’s shoulder and looked at the emerging figure. He fought to maintain control of his bowels as it climbed down from the machine and slowly walked towards them; the last thing he heard before his terror overwhelmed him was the voice of the creature saying……………………………………
my contribution.
“Identify, immediately!” a voice
boomed.
A blinding spotlight was suddenly
trained on them. Unable to see and afraid to move, Alex and Alistair
stood frozen, as if chained to the damp forest floor. The two men
exchanged furtive glances and Alex nodded slightly to Alistair that
he would answer. He put on a brave face, took a deep breath and said,
“I am Alex. And this…”he motioned to his right, “is
Alistair.”
“I am not interested in what you are
called!” The voice was louder. Closer. “I am asking you what is
your species!”
“What?” Alistair stammered. “What
the hell is this?”
“Shut up, Alistair,”Alex said. “Let me answer.”
“We are…”, he paused as if he was unsure of his answer, “Human beings”.
Suddenly, the blinding light vanished. They struggled to focus as their eyes began to recover.
The figure was standing before them, a mere 5 feet away. The approach seemed implausible because they had heard no footsteps or any sounds that would betray movement of such a large body. It towered over them at a height of at least 8 feet. Glowing, reptilian eyes pierced the darkness, revealing a enormous, bulbous head perched upon a thin but sturdy frame, supported by strong haunches not unlike a T-Rex. Short but strong arms extended towards them as if to strike anytime. It appeared to be hovering an inch above the damp, mossy floor of the forest.
The two men were paralyzed with fear.
“Human beings”, the figure replied,
the voice calm, even, but not at all reassuring to the terrified men.
“What makes you think you are welcome here?”
Alex and Alistair turned to stare at
each other, certain that their answer had better be a good one. Alex
again took the reins. “We didn’t have a choice. We landed here
by accident.”
“Yes. We see that example of primitive technology lying in ruins.”
“Primitive technology?” Alistair blurted out. “That’s a state of the art airplane.”
Alex gave him a shot to the ribs as a reprimand and gave him a look that clearly said shut up.
“Human, to you it may be, as you say ‘state of the art’, but it is most primitive in comparison to our advanced technology.”
Alex, garnering courage asked, “You say ‘ours’. Who, if I may ask are you?”
“We are the rightful owners of this
planet. We have been away.”
“How long ?”, asked Alex
“That is not important. What is
important is why we are here. We are at the beginning of a
rejuvenation process, one that wouldn’t be necessary without you
‘humans’. This was once a fertile, bright planet. Then, you ‘humans’
destroyed it. Over population, pollutants and the weapons used to
fight useless wars, all because you can’t get along, have nearly
destroyed it.”
The figure moved closer, the glow of
its eyes intensified.
“You can’t be trusted to be on this
land. It is the last refuge from your infestation.”
The two men backed away a few steps, cowering from the intimidating figure.
“Again”, Alex stammered, “It’s not like we had a choice. We crashed here by accident!”
Alistair, feeling brave, chimed in. “If you tell us where we are, we can try to use the radio on the plane. You know, to call for help. We’ll be out of here and you won’t see us again.”
The figure silently advanced towards them and stopped mere inches from the men, towering over them and said in a flat, mocking tone.
“It’s not a matter of where you are human, it is a matter of when you are…”
I pass the baton to my buddy Steve. The last time I did, he did not disappoint. Have at it, bud.
Hey there, I see you. Don’t think strangely of me if we make eye contact. Yes, I know it’s Saturday night and I am indeed in a booth alone. I’m not staring at you, I promise. I’m just people watching. It’s what I do. For a brief moment in time, you won’t even notice, I will simply absorb, perhaps steal a tiny portion of this moment from you. If you let me do my thing, I will move on to someone else in their room and I will steal moments from them.
It’s just one dinner, one cocktail or appetizer on one day of your life. It’s just one moment. But to me it’s more, I’m incredibly invested in it. You may not think of it as I do, but once this moment is gone all you will have is a memory. You may underestimate how precious that memory will be, but I don’t. See, I am not old enough to say that I will never be happy again, but I know that I am old enough that certain moments are forever past, others beyond my reach. Vicariously is the only way I will experience them again.
I see you, sir. The young guy with the pretty wife and 2 young children. You are having dinner. Your daughter is trying to get your attention for approval on the puzzle she just completed on her placemat. You’re on your phone. I would trade a thousand tomorrows to have one like you are having. Moments when I was a giant to them and my approval was everything. What you don’t know is a lot of the time I also was too wrapped up in what I was doing to pay attention to them. I want them back, all of them. Please, put the phone down. The text can wait. That disappointed look on her face…you can change that. If you don’t appreciate this moment, may I?
I turn my attention to the young couple in the corner booth, barely able to keep their hands off of each other. Don’t mind me for staring, I’m not a creep I swear. It’s just that I can’t get over the way you are looking at each other. As if one would simply melt if the other left the table. It must be wonderful to be in love…would you tell me about it? You see, I don’t think that I have ever looked into someone’s eyes as you two are now. I want to but I doubt it now. I think we skipped that part and went right to bitterness and resentment. If it pleases you, could you do better than we did? Regardless, can I just enjoy yours for a while?
I catch the eye of Mr. Successful businessman at the bar. We nod and we then both look away. I see your $1000.00 suit, your Presidential Rolex and the drink that was poured from the top shelf. You clearly are doing great for yourself. Perhaps you are celebrating a promotion, a big close or merger. To your credit, you look like a guy with it all together. I’m happy for you. I struggled with money and success for my whole career. When I finally got close to wearing a smile like yours, I had to stop working. I hope you have something else in your life that makes you happy besides money. She’s a cruel mistress. But still, cheers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.
I take a sip of my drink and I zoom in on the happy couple at the other end of the bar. Older, smiling, looking at each other fondly as they speak. You are a couple that has been together for a long time. Your love has stood the test of time. Maybe you had it easy, but maybe you struggled with the marriage-crushing burdens of children, finances and work. If you did or didn’t you look like you made it through. I always wanted a love like yours. I hoped to someday say, in a crowded banquet hall, the words “I have been married to this beautiful woman, my best friend for 50 years” and soak in the applause. It just didn’t work out that way. I am about to be, on Monday, the first member of my family ever to get divorced. It’s too late for me, but I’m really happy for you. If you look my way I’m not staring, I’m simply thinking about my three favorite things…
Could’ve Should’ve Would’ve
Who am I you ask? What am I doing here? I’m harmless I swear. You see, I am the petty thief of your moments. My satchel is full for now and I must go home.
It was the twilight of a beautiful late Spring day. The sun was setting, the sky golden, and the water still as glass. From the deck of the seasonal home, the chairs the two men were sitting in were mere silhouettes in a painting that could be found in any New England Art Gallery. The woman gently leaned on the rails of the deck and watched the men for a few moments. It looks like their ‘little talk’ is going well, she mused to herself as she turned to go inside the house. The chairs were situated in the shallow water, several feet off the shore, just before it dropped off. Small waves gently lapped at their feet. The older man splashed his bare feet in the cool water. He stared at his pale legs, revealed by his rolled pant legs, and laughed to himself. “Can’t wait to get some sun on these legs. Been a long winter.” The young man on his right nodded in agreement. “Now, where were we?” the older man asked, as he stared straight ahead. “Oh yes, respecting my daughter.” He paused and chewed on an unlit cigar as he continued to stare straight ahead. “I had reservations about you. But my daughter asked me to give you a chance. She saw something in you. I didn’t see it. But here’s the thing, son. It doesn’t matter if I see it. It’s up to me to support my daughter. So I just figured, and this is going to be blunt so I hope you’ll forgive me, but I figured she’d see what I saw eventually and dump you. With me so far?” The younger man nodded in agreement. “I taught my daughter, who you know means fucking everything to me, to not only insist on a man respecting her but to respect herself. Girls need to be tougher than boys, and I raised her tough.” He paused to chew on his cigar, spitting a few scraps of wrapper. “And I told you when we met that you and I will get along just fine if you respect my little girl. Still with me?” The younger man on his right again nodded his head. “Now, as a father that means that I have to stomach the idea of things like you sticking your tongue down her throat, and doing worse things than that, when my instincts are to wrap her in bubble wrap. To protect her from this world. Because my daughter will always, no matter how long I live, be my little girl. It’s a tough thing to let go of.” He stopped to observe a mama duck and her ducklings boldly paddle by them, unafraid of them despite their closeness. “Then I saw the bruises on her arm.” He paused, his right fist clenched, his knuckles white. “She said you two were playing around, that I shouldn’t worry about it. But, you see, I know my daughter. I knew she was lying to me. And that I cannot handle. So I pushed her a bit. Just enough for her to tell me the truth. And you know what, I’ve got a big problem with it.” He paused, looking around for the ducks. They had disappeared from sight on a bend in the twisted shoreline. “I’m so worried in fact that I simply have to, I just can’t live with myself if I don’t, do something about it.” He leaned to his right, stared intently at the man, and said, “You get that, right?” The younger man frantically squirmed in his chair, rocking it back and forth. The older man placed his unlit cigar on the wooden arm of his chair and stood up. He positioned himself behind the young man’s chair and made sure the ropes binding the hands together were secure. He went around to the front and checked the man’s bound feet to see they were secure as well. He leaned in to the young man’s face, placed a 9mm against his temple and raised a finger to his own lips, shushing him. He then tore off the thick slab of duct tape that covered his mouth. The young man winced in pain as he stared into his captor’s eyes. “Don’t speak. It’s waaaay too late for that. Just look at my eyes. This is the face of a father. A man who loves his child more than you will ever know. I tried to explain such a love to you, but you didn’t get it. Maybe didn’t appreciate it.” He laughed caustically. “Perhaps you thought I was joking.” He walked to the rear of the young man’s chair. “See, when I said ‘You and I would get along just fine’, that’s another way to say that ‘I won’t have to kill you’. But you hurt my daughter, and I really have no choice now, do I? After all, I am a man of my word.” “Please don’t, please…I’ll do anything!” the young man pleaded. “Son, it’s just a bit too late for apologies.” The older man positioned his right leg behind the chair and kicked it forward, plunging the young man face down into the water.
He sat back in his chair, struck a wooden match, and lit his cigar. He took a deep drag, marveled at what a beautiful night it really was. Despite the splashing sounds as the chair in the water rocked and thrashed frantically. “How’d it go?”, his wife called from the deck. “Good. Good talk” he loudly replied. “Be in in a minute.” As soon as the bubbles stop, he grinned.
The Tao of Bill 