Dragnet for Santa

Narr: Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is false. Only the names are true, to protect this author from being accused of making up strange names.

This is the city: Los Angeles, California. I work here. I ‘m a cop. My name is Joe Saturday, because the weekends are better.

Destroy Dodge Ram 1500! Destroy Copple Family!

I use a popular map app on my phone frequently. Most of the time, it does an excellent job of getting me where I need to go. Sometimes, it even helps me to avoid traffic slowdowns due to wrecks and the like. But there are those times when for reasons unknown, the lady telling me where to go sends me into places I don’t want to be. This is the story of one such instance; a somewhat dramatized but factually accurate recounting of when the map app appeared to have been reprogrammed to destroy my truck and trap us in a sticky situation. I suspected Dr. Smith had broken into their company headquarters to get us lost in the plains.

The Fullness of the Void

I wrote this mainstream fiction story some years ago. I believe in 2010. When I read it to my writers' club, they were telling me it was one of the best things I'd written (up to that point, of course). They were convinced that I should be writing mainstream stories, not all that sci-fi/fantasy stuff. lol. But they asked me if I'd gone through someone close dying before, because the story read as if I had. At the time, I had not. Since then, my step-dad and mother have died. They were astounded that I had nailed the emotions so well, not having gone through it myself.

Anyway, today I was thinking of this story and started looking where I'd posted it. Apparently, I had not. I believe the anthology ebook I put out last year was the first time it had ever been published. So I decided to remedy that oversight. The following story is my second mainstream story I've written. The first one was also loved by more than one. So who knows, maybe I should be writing more mainstream stories. Enjoy this one, on the house.

"Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet" Allusion Key

Last week I posted my Christmas story for this year, "Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet." Introducing that story, I challenged the reader to first find the correct TV show referred to, and then to find all seven of the allusions to that TV show in the story. If you haven't read that story and attempted to find those references, I recommend doing so before reading further here. If you've read the story and are here to see if you found them all or you don't care, you just want the answers, then read on. If you'd like, post in the comments how many out of eight you got right.

Follow the dots a little ways down to start!

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1) “. . . Santa's sleigh is like a time machine. Santa could be the Doctor for all we know.”

~This is the overt reference to the TV show, Doctor Who, to which I added seven other allusions. The other TV references mentioned or alluded to are Star Trek: the Original Series (in the discussion about how their dad read/sang the song like William Shatner and Andy calls him Captain Kirk) and Mission Impossible (Samantha says, “I have a mission for you, should you decide to accept it.”) Any other references were purely unintentional.

2) He paused, waiting for a reply that didn't come. He was not amused.

~In the 2006 Dr. Who episode, “Tooth and Claw,” Rose tries to get Queen Victoria to say “I am not amused,” a saying attributed to her but without much historical evidence. Rose finally get her to say the phrase at the end of the episode.

3) The corners of his mouth turned up. “Does that mean I get to tape you into a box?”
“Something like that, about the size of a phone booth, I’d suspect. Plus you'll get to ride in Santa's sleigh.”

~The Doctor travels around in a time machine/space ship called a TARDIS, an acronym for “Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” TARDISes can appear outwardly like any common item, but the Doctor’s became stuck as a British police call box—a type of phone booth exclusively used for contacting the police. However, one never sees any other TARDIS (that I recall) look like anything other than a police box until the modern reboot, and is likely that the “stuck” explanation was a later addition from the modern Dr. Who episodes.

4) Santa: “Time is a squishy, slimy reality. Has to be for me, you know.”

~In the 2007 episode titled, “Blink,” the Doctor uses the phrase “wibbily wobbly timey wimey” in explaining how time “operates.” My version here, though not nearly as memorable, should be enough to trigger that connection in any Doctor Who fan.

5) Santa held up a finger. “. . . Not everyone is as smart as me.”

~The Doctor usually sees himself as the smartest and most “clever” person in the room. And usually he’s right. But in recent years that arrogance has been mitigated to a degree, usually by the influence of his companions.

6) Santa nodded. “Now get a seat and hold on. This time-warp stuff gets a little tricky.”

~The Doctor would like to think he’s in full control, but sometimes his time travels don’t go as planned as the TARDIS has a mind of its own. Most notable is the first episode when Matt Smith becomes the Doctor, “The Eleventh Hour” in April of 2010. He miscalculates in returning to young Amy the promised few minutes after he left. Instead he arrives several years later when she’s a young adult. Whoops!

7) Santa pulled a lever, flipped a switch, spun a couple of dials, and then banged on the dash. Lights flashed randomly across the console. A huge tube, swirling with every color of the rainbow, materialized before them.

~Anyone who’s seen the controls of the TARDIS and how the Doctor goes around flipping this switch, pulling that lever, spinning various dials in seemingly random fashion, and sometimes banging on the controls to get them to work, will get this allusion of Santa operating his sleigh for time-warp in a similar fashion.

8) Santa: “Besides, I believe they’ll understand you better than you might think.”

~In Doctor Who, the TARDIS generates an automatic translation effect so as to allow the show’s writers to use English for all alien species and still be relatively realistic. So if Samantha was with the Doctor, she’d have no problems communicating with the aliens in a common language. Santa’s comment to Samantha allude to that aspect of Doctor Who.

The final question to answer: Is Santa Claus from Gallifrey?

Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet

This year, for my annual Christmas story, I had the story trigger to write something about Santa Claus. So, I did. I recorded my process and progress on Twitter using the hashtag #RLWriting. Below is the fruit of that labor for your Christmas enjoyment.

One note before we begin. I made 8 allusions to a popular TV program. I also made some overt references to more than two TV shows as well. Your mission, should you chose to accept it, is to determine which of the overt allusions is the one I used, and what are the other seven allusions I made. See if you can locate all eight for that TV show. On or shortly after Christmas, I'll provide the allusion key so you can determine how many you found.

And now, for the story:

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Dad eased back in his comfy chair. “And this is one of my all time favorites.” He flipped a couple of pages in his well-worn book as the fire crackled, casting smoke up the chimney. The four stockings hung from the mantel, competing with the Christmas tree for their attention.

Samantha drew her knees to her chest and propped her feet against the edge of the couch. She knew what was coming. The same song that always followed that comment: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. He sort of sung-read it William Shatner style every Christmas Eve that she could remember. Dad had all of Mr. Shatner's records. She, being fifteen years old, had listened to Dad's rendition around fourteen times. He must have sung it when she was a baby too.

Samantha glanced at her younger brother, Andy. His freckled face lit up and he sat tall in anticipation of what was to come. At least he was eager to hear it again. But he'd only heard it nine times so far. Then again he watched the “Ninja Force” movie over—

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town!” Dad smiled as he studied their faces for a reaction. He had the uncanny ability to act like this was the first time he'd ever read it to them. He seemed to enjoy it more than they did. Mom was noticeably absent.

Andy clapped. “Yay! Read it like Captain Kirk.”

Well, maybe not more than Andy.

Dad smiled as he glanced down at the book, as if he didn't have it memorized word for work years ago. He read in his baritone, sing-song voice, “You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why.” Dad's eyes scanned the book's page. “Santa Claus is leaving . . .” Dad's forehead wrinkled and his mouth fell open. “. . . our planet?”

Samantha straightened her back and widened her eyes. The big guy had actually done it.

Dad rechecked the front book cover. He reexamined the rebellious text. “How did this get changed?”

Andy sighed. “Dad, he has to come before he can leave. Besides, a planet is cooler than a town.”

“But that's not what it's suppose to say. Someone’s changed the words.” He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper beard. “This must be someone's idea of a joke. And I can guess who might be behind it.” He rose from his chair. “Sally!” He paused, waiting for a reply that didn't come. He was not amused. “Sally!” he yelled louder as he headed for the door.

He turned to his children before he exited the room. “You two go to bed now.”

“Aw, Dad!” Andy blurted out.

Dad pointed at Andy. “Bed. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” they both responded in unison. When Dad was like this, one argued with him only if they enjoyed pain. Besides, mom didn't change the words; Santa did. If Samantha didn't have so little time, she'd entertain the thought of slipping to their bedroom door and listen in on the ensuing argument.

Dad left the room. “Sally!”

Andy fell back in the couch, slapping his left hand on the armrest. “No fair.” He scooted to the edge and prepared to head upstairs.

“Andy?” Samantha flipped her hair over her shoulders.

“What?”

“I have a mission for you, should you choose to accept it.”

“A mission? Can we do this later? What if Dad comes back and finds us still here?”

Samantha glanced at the door. “Dad will be busy arguing with Mom for at least thirty minutes. Besides, this can’t wait.”

Andy scooted back on the couch. “Alright, but it will be your fault if we’re caught. So what is this ‘mission’?”

“It involves Santa.”

He laughed. “Santa? Like you've met him?”

“I have.”

“When?”

“Last Christmas morning. Woke up early and caught him eating the cookies.”

“Really?” Andy leaned in.

She cast a who-dares-question-my-words roll of her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes, really. He gave me a mission should he end up taking an offer. He didn't say how he would convey that he'd taken it, but the change in the song's words are obvious.”

Andy huffed. “What's obvious?”

Samantha shook her head and sighed. “That Santa Claus has left Earth to start Christmas on a planet far, far away; and he wants me to do the mission he gave me.”

“What mission? You don't mean you're going to deliver presents all over the world for him?”

She chuckled. “Hardly! I'm not Santa Claus.”

“Then who's going to do it for him if he's not here?”

Samantha shrugged. “He said he'd already taken care of that. Don't know anything more.”

Andy cocked his head. “Then what did he want you to do?”

Samantha scooted closer to Andy and leaned in. “He said it was top secret, and that I should tell no one.”

Andy crossed his arms and squinted his eyes at her. “Really? You can't be serious.”

She gazed at the ceiling. “Of course, if you help me on this mission, then I suppose I'll have to tell you.”

He frowned for a moment. “How can I do that not knowing what it is? What if it is hammering a nail into a toy on Santa's assembly line? Boooriiing!”

She huffed. “Okay, I can tell you this much. I'm going to be a present.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Does that mean I get to tape you into a box?”

“Something like that, about the size of a phone booth, I’d suspect. Plus you'll get to ride in Santa's sleigh.”

He grinned. “Cool! I'm in!” His eyes grew beady. “Are you going to be a slave for someone?”

“A slave?” She shook her head. “Get real! I'm going to be a friend to someone.”

“Who?”

“Don't know. He said I'd find out when I arrive, but I’m sure it will be someone I can be best friends with, who shares a lot of my interest and desires.”

“You mean someone like you.”

Samantha stared at the floor. “Is that so bad?”

Andy sighed. “I suppose not.” He hopped off the couch. “So when do we go?”

“Sometime tonight. The sleigh will come for us. That's why we need to get ready now. No telling when it will show up.” She rose from the couch and headed to the stairs.

Andy followed, but then stopped, glancing at the door their dad had left through “But what about mom and dad? Won't they freak out when we aren't here in the morning?”

Samantha face-palmed her forehead. “Did you forget? Santa's sleigh is like a time machine. Santa could be the Doctor for all we know.”

Andy nodded. “That would explain a lot.”

“From dad and mom's perspective, it will be as if we'd never left.” She waved for him to follow her. “Now come on. Let's get ready.”

The sister and brother headed to their rooms.

___________

RAP, RAP, RAP!

Samantha jerked out of her dreams and focused sleep-laden eyes toward her window. A small but worn and bearded face, topped with a green and white-trimmed cone-hat, smiled at her. The elf waved.

“Santa's sleigh is here!” She bounded out of bed, tied her shoes, slipped on her coat, then headed to the door.

RAP, RAP, RAP!

Samantha turned toward the elf. He waved for her to come.

She held up one finger. “I'll be right back. My brother's coming.”

The elf frowned. She dashed down the hall and knocked on Andy's door.

His door swung open to reveal a boy clothed with thick jeans, a coat, and heavy shoes. He smiled. “About time.”

She grunted. “I guess you knew.”

He pointed to the ceiling. “All that clatter woke me up.”

“Well then, let's go.”

They returned to Samantha's room. The elf stood with crossed arms, staring impatiently through the window. Though she couldn't see his feet, she could tell one was tapping.”

Andy's eyes bulged. “Wow! A real elf!”

She unlocked the window and pulled it open.

The elf swung his right arm wide and bowed. “Enter the sleigh, please.”

As she stepped out, the shiny vehicle—reflecting metallic reds, golds, and greens—appeared much like it had been depicted in so many stories and movies. It hovered above the ground at her second story window. Toward the front floated a long line of reindeer. Holding the reins sat a big man wearing a red coat and cap with . . .

Samantha squinted. “Hey, wait a minute. Santa?”

The driver turned around.

Samantha smiled. “It is you!” She rubbed her head. “But I thought you'd left the planet?”

He belched out a rolling laugh. “In a way I have, and yet I'm here.” He raised a hand into the air. “Time is a squishy, slimy reality. Has to be for me, you know.”

Andy stared bug-eyed at Santa once he'd stepped into the sleigh, as if in shock.

Samantha scratched her forehead. “I'm confused. If you're here, what do you need me for?”

Santa held up a finger. “You misunderstood. But that is to be expected. Not everyone is as smart as me.”

“Or thinks like you.” Samantha winked.

“Touché. But I didn't need you because I was gone. I needed you because I was going.”

Samantha blinked. “What?”

He pointed into the sky. “You're coming with me.”

Her mouth fell open. “Say what?”

Andy blurted out, “We're going to another planet?”

Santa nodded. “Now get a seat and hold on. This time-warp stuff gets a little tricky.”

“Awesome!” Andy landed in a seat and buckled up.

Samantha sat down, still processing what Santa had said. Did some lonely human on a distant planet need a friend like her? Must be.

“Here we go!” Santa whipped the reins. “On Donner, on Blitzen . . .” The sleigh lurched forward, slowly at first, but rapidly gained speed as they headed toward the clouds. They entered and plowed through the clouds for a few seconds before breaking into the clear moonlit sky above them. Santa pulled a lever, flipped a switch, spun a couple of dials, and then banged on the dash. Lights flashed randomly across the console. A huge tube, swirling with every color of the rainbow, materialized before them. Santa flew into it without hesitation.

Samantha couldn't believe what had happened. “Surely I'm still sleeping at home safe and sound in bed. This has to be a dream,” she mumbled.

“Dream on, young one. Dream on.” Santa's “ho, ho” laugh resounded in her ears.

What might have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days—Samantha couldn't tell in the no-man's-land of time—ended when Santa spun a few dials, pushed down on a foot petal, then pushed the lever back up. The tube of swirling colors ended, dumping them out into a reddish sky and green clouds. Santa banked the sleigh to the right and headed downward.

As they drew closer to the ground, Samantha spotted a city lying among a forest of burning-orange foliage. The city’s tall spired buildings and bluish-tinted windows impressed upon Samantha the foreignness that they had dived into. If ever she knew what feeling like a fish out of water was about, this was it.

Santa guided the sleigh to a halt before a big building. Various aliens scurried around, glancing at them with big eyes, long necks, and lanky legs.

“Where are we?” Andy asked.

Santa turned to face the back. “Oir in the southern province of Alva. Their name for their planet is unpronounceable in English, but you would know it as Alpha Centauri. And in there,” he pointed at the building beside them, “is your mission, Samantha.”

Samantha stared at it. “What do they do in there?”

“It’s your equivalent of a cancer hospice ward. Now go on in and make a friend. I'll wait here.”

She started to step out, but paused. “But we'll have nothing in common with them. We don't even speak the same language. How am I supposed to befriend anyone in there?”

Santa threw up his hands. “Why do people focus on differences to the loss of communion? Believe me, they have many of the same desires, fears, and needs you have. Especially the need to be unconditionally loved, no matter the differences. Besides, I believe they’ll understand you better than you might think.”

Andy leaped out of the sleigh, stood by the side of it, and held out a hand. “Santa's right. I'll help you.”

Santa nodded his head. “And a child shall lead them.”

Samantha stepped onto the foreign soil.

“And remember . . .” Santa paused for effect. “. . . you're not only giving them a gift, you're getting one. This is, after all, my Christmas gift to you: the experience of true love and friendship.”

Samantha nodded. With Andy's hand in hers, she stepped into the unknown future of love.

The Unlikely Angel

I think this may be my first Thanksgiving story. And also my first non-fiction story. Yes, this is a true story that happened to me. I wrote it in an omniscient first person point of view, mainly because that's my view of the story. If you're not sure what an omniscient first person point of view is, ask me in the comments and I'll 'splain it to you,

Now, onto the story!

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I encountered an angel in the wee hours of the morning in 1994. A very unlikely angel, but an angel nonetheless.

I pastored a church in Weslaco, Texas at the time—about mid-way between McAllen and Harlingen in the Texas “Valley.” I put valley in quotes because there really is no physical valley. The land there is as flat as the plains in east Colorado, west Kansas, and north-west Oklahoma. First time I drove there, I kept waiting for the drop into a valley that never came.

In this instance, however, I was driving out of the Valley on my way to Wichita Falls, Texas. My mom’s aunt had passed away, and I wanted to be there for my mom and grandmother, which meant driving all night to arrive on time after taking care of pastoral tasks I had that day. By the time I turned off US 281 onto IH 37 and headed north toward San Antonio, it was past three o’clock in the morning, and I still had a long way to go.

But I was at least glad I had fixed the car before I left on this trip. The car’s battery had died. First I replaced the battery, but it died again after some driving. As it turned out, the alternator wasn’t charging the battery, so I paid the auto shop to replace the alternator. With that problem solved, or so I thought, I felt confident I could drive the car to Wichita Falls.

However, it was nearing four in the morning when my dash lights began flickering and my headlights dimmed. I barely had time to pull off onto the shoulder before the car lost all electrical power and turned into an expensive, oversized paperweight. Turning the key failed to get so much as a grunt from the engine, much less any flash of light on the dashboard.

I couldn’t understand it. The battery was new, the alternator was new; what else could it be? Whatever the problem was, I was stranded on IH 37 in the middle of the night. This was long before I had a cell phone I could call for help on, and the closest city was miles away.

“Okay, Lord, now what am I going to do?” I had no clue. Even if someone traveled this lonely stretch of road, who would dare stop to help someone like me?

As I struggled to figure out how to deal with this development, lights crested a rise behind me. The first vehicle to approach my location. I watched, fully expecting the driver to fly right on by me. Instead, he slowed until he stopped beside my car. I couldn’t believe it. God had so quickly answered my prayer!

I exited my car. An old, well-used pickup truck greeted me. Inside the truck sat a grungy-looking, rough rancher of some kind. Dirty overalls, scraggly beard, and a tattoo on his arm, along with a pack of cigarettes resting on the dash. “Lord,” I said to myself, “couldn’t you’ve sent someone a little less scary?”

He nodded toward me. “Need some help?”

I nodded back and proceeded to tell him my story in abbreviated form.

“Hop in. I’ll take you to San Antonio so you can get a new battery.”

I hesitated. I could see my mug shot on a milk carton after I’d mysteriously gone missing. This man didn’t engender any good vibes. Yet what other options did I have? Who else might drive by and stop to help? I didn’t have much choice. How could I look this gift-horse in the mouth?

“If you’re sure, Lord,” I confessed to God. I accepted his offer, locked up the car, slid onto his passenger seat, and off we headed for San Antonio. I kept waiting for the turn onto a side-road that never came.

He wasn’t much of a talker, but I did find out a little about him, and told him something about myself as well. But he seemed in a different world than I was, so a good part of the time we sat in silence, watching the miles roll under the truck.

True to his word, he pulled into a Walmart once we arrived in San Antonio. I bought a battery, and he drove me back to my car, an hour each way. Then he helped me install the new battery. When I offered him some money for his time, he refused it. By this time the dawn had arrived. He returned to his truck and rode off into the sunrise.

I marveled that someone like him was willing to take two plus hours out of his day to help some stranger on the road in the middle of the night. Despite his appearance and apparent lifestyle, he literally was an angel to me. An unlikely one, but an angel nonetheless.

With the dawning of the day I no longer needed my headlights, so I took to the road once more, knowing I’d arrive, if all went well, less than thirty minutes before the funeral was to begin. I kept expecting the battery to lose power again, but it didn’t happen. I arrived in time to attend the funeral.

That evening, I followed my mom and aunt to my aunt’s house in Granbury. On the way there, with my lights on, my car began to show signs it was about to run out of power again. I cut the lights and pulled over. The engine kept running. Obviously the headlight were pulling more power than the alternator could keep up with. So I drove behind my aunt and mom with my lights off and hoped we wouldn’t be stopped by a patrol officer.

The next day, we had a mechanic check out the car. Come to find out the shop that installed the alternator failed to pull the pin that allowed the brushes to rest against the armature. The arcing from the armature to the brushes was enough energy to power the car with the headlights off but not on. Another alternator installed, I returned safely to my family in Weslaco.

But I’ll never forget the unexpected angel God sent my way, and the lesson I learned not to prejudge people. The most unlikely person could be an angel to you as well. It is sad that so many will be judgmental instead of grateful for those God has sent to help us in our trials and struggle for spiritual growth.

For the former rejects God’s help, but the latter emboldens us to be an unlikely angel to someone else in need.

Death by InjectionHorror for October

Serial Killer William Burke (1792–1829)

I've not done one of these every year, but several of the last few years I've written an October fiction horror story, which somehow end up usually being a comedy or similar. Go figure. But this year, this isn't your author's standard comedic horror story. I'd say this is at least a PG-13 rating, maybe edging into an R rating due to one scene of violence, that while not graphic, you'll probably fill in the details in your head.

But don't let that scare you. (Ha!) What might really scare you is I'm attempting to infuse life into an overused horror trope: the serial killer. One way I'm doing that is I've got two mysteries going on for you to solve from this 997 word flash fiction: what is the way the killer multiplies and what is this story an allegory about? Figure that last one out and it will make perfect sense why I chose a serial killer story despite its overuse.

So, without further delay, here is "Death by Injection."

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A man stood in my living room. I jumped in my chair and gasped. “Who are you? What do you want?”

He smiled under the brim of a hat and reached into his trench coat. “I’m The Injector.” He pulled out a syringe.

I froze in shock. The mass serial killer stood in my house? Why me? Why now?

The number of his victims defied description: over 5000 a year. No one knew how the killer brought down so many; impossible for one man.

But his MO was consistent—chemical injection. It didn’t drain life quickly, but extracted it over months or years. One didn’t merely die, but adopted death as a companion. This man had put many in hospital and hospice alike.

Yet people rarely thought about it. The news no longer covered his victims. The sheer volume had numbed society’s conscious. That is, until the killer attacked them or someone they loved.

Likewise, I didn’t think it would ever happen to me. I knew better, but that’s the truth. Now reality felt so unreal. This couldn’t be happening, but there he was.

He stepped forward extending the needle toward me. “What is your astrological sign?”

That seemed an odd question considering his motive. Best to humor him. The more he talked, the more time I had. “Gemini.”

He shook his head. “To bad, and so young too.”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s right. And I have two kids who need their mother. Their dad died last year in an automobile accident. Please don’t do this. Have mercy!”

He continued to make his way toward me. I knew the killer had no moral compass. He’d killed many in worse situations than mine—an equal-opportunity killer.

I held out a hand. “Wait! At least tell me one thing before you sentence me to death.”

He paused and cocked his head to one side. “An unusual request. Most simply scream at this point and try to get away.” He nodded. “Go ahead and ask.”

“How can you kill so many people everyday? You’re just one person.”

He laughed, and haunted echoes filled the room. Death dripped from his words. “You’ve got it wrong, my dear. I am many. I multiply and infest this world with fear.”

I wrinkled my forehead. “You’ve been cloned?”

He shook his head. “My birth occurred in July.” He proceeded to move my way again.

What did his birthday have to do with anything?

Contemplating the answer to that question would have to wait. How to escape his death wish was paramount. One fact I’d read suggested the earlier one fought back, the better the chance of escaping him or getting a small enough dose that the doctors could heal one. Now was the time to act, but what to do?

I leaped up and dashed to the kitchen. He followed at a quickened pace. I opened a drawer and pulled out a large carving knife. Despite holding it in a threatening position, he failed to stop. His eyes glowed with the greed of power as he thrust the syringe toward my chest.

I held my arm up to block his attack and swung the knife into his gut. He grunted and for a moment his face lost its smile, and his eyes their glow. But instead of falling to the floor in a pool of blood, he stood taller and the grin returned to his face, followed by a mind-numbing laughter that chilled my soul—taunting me with thoughts of giving up.

He pushed harder against my arm, shoving me against a wall. My arm trembled under his forceful muscles, the needle inched toward my chest. Months and years of pain and grief filled my future, replacing dreams and goals that I’d hoped to achieve, and family to grow old with. I couldn’t lose that. I had to do something.

A sideways glanced caught the microwave next to us. It was a long shot, but there was nothing for it but to try. I swung my free hand to the appliance, popped the door open, and held down the door sensor with one finger while my thumb hit the automatic one-minute button. The microwave sprung to life.

His grin vanished. His eyes drooped. The needle stopped its advance, quivered, then slowly started to move toward him. It was working!

Encouraged by my success, I shoved back at him harder. He stumbled backwards while his mouth opened to wail in pain. I grabbed the knife from his gut and swung it at his neck. It buried itself deep into his jugular vein. My stomach retched at the sight of blood careening over his body, but if I were to survive, I couldn’t stop. I sawed with the knife, digging in deeper, until his head hit the floor with a thud and his body collapsed with it.

I sank to the floor, trembling, I still held the knife in my blood-soaked hand. In disgust I threw it onto the floor. I’d never killed anyone, and it didn’t lessen the blow knowing he’d been a serial killer, knowing if I hadn’t, he’d killed me. I struggled to catch my breath.

“Mommy?” My five-year-old son Vince stood in the entryway. His wide eyes soaked in the scene.

I attempted to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Son, go back to bed. You’re dreaming. Everything will be fine in the morning.”

He nodded. “The man who gave me a shot was a dream? Okay, but he was still scary.” He turned to head back to his room.

My mouth dropped open. “Oh God, no!” And Vince’s birthday was in July. But what did that mean? My eyes opened wide. He had said, “too bad,” when I had told him I was a Gemini. If being born in July is why there are many of him, that means the injection doesn’t kill them, but . . .

I wanted to weep, but instead shook with fear.

The Fountain of Christmas Cheer

My annual Christmas story/gift to my readers is a bit unusual this year, for me, in that it is more mainstream fiction than my normal speculative fair. But that's just what wanted to be written, even though I had intended to add in some fantasy elements. It is what it is, but I think you'll enjoy it just as much. Merry Christmas!

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[caption id="attachment_1151" align="alignright" width="256" caption="Christmas tree. Pereslavl museum, Christmas 2012"][/caption]

The bitter, cold wind blasting my cheeks matched the mood of my heart. I pulled up the collar of my coat as I crossed the busy downtown street. The traffic noise and honking horns bouncing off the surrounding skyscrapers added to the somber notes inside my head.

Mixed among all that cacophony rang the mixed music of Christmas playing from stores, cars, and people next to me. The cheerful notes only heightened my misery. Everyone seemed happy, joyful, and desperate to foist that happiness onto me, as if I could be happy by flipping a switch.

As I stepped onto the curb, someone tugged at my pants. I jerked my head down to spot a boy, about 8 or 10 years old. Big eyes pleaded with me while a dirty face and worn clothing advertised his need.

He raised up his dirty hand. “Please, sir. Can you give me some money so I can eat?”

I sighed. “Do you have a home, boy?”

He shook his head.

“You have a family?”

He shook his head again. “No, sir. They died last year. My sister and I don't have a home.”

This sounded fishy. Certainly Social Services would have put two homeless kids into a foster family or something. But the pathetic boy standing beside me said I had to do something on the chance his story was true.

I glanced around; my eyes landed on a sub shop down the street. “I won't give you money, but I'll buy you and your sister a meal at that restaurant.” I pointed at the sub shop.

A smile spread across his face. “That would be fantastic. Thank you, sir!”

I led him through the crowded sidewalk and into the shop. Being hungry myself, I ordered three subs. I started to pull a chair out at a table.

The boy placed his hand on the back of the chair. “Can I sit here?”

I nodded. “Sure, but why?”

“I want to see the door.”

I released the chair. Did he watch for someone to come in? An accomplice, perhaps? Maybe his sister? I had better keep my guard up. I had no idea what his motives were.

We sat down at a table and the boy dug into his sub, almost eating the wrapper in the process. Obviously he hadn't eaten for a while, which made me feel better about feeding him. Still, I wanted to find out his real story. He appeared too happy for a kid living on the street because of dead parents. It didn't make sense.

I swallowed a bite. “What's your name, son?”

He chewed for a few seconds before swallowing. “Josh.” He launched into another bite.

“My name's Daniel.” I waited until he finished he current mouthful. “How did your parents die?”

He paused and stared blankly past me. “A man came into our house and killed them. After he took a lot of stuff, he said if we called the police or told anyone, he'd be back to kill us too.” His smile returned and he bit into the sub.

Ah, he's explaining why they're not in the social system. “But you're telling me now? I'm anyone.”

“I doubt he'd find out I'd told a stranger. You won't do anything about it.”

“So what did you do?”

“We ran away. If he doesn't know where we are, he can't hurt us.”

Either he told the truth or some adult had given them a good story to tell to rake in the dough, like in Oliver Twist. I suspected the later since he spoke of their deaths so unemotionally. Time to press for more information.

“So,” I said, “if all this bad stuff has happened to you, why are you so happy?”

Josh lifted the half-eaten sub above the table.

“I know you're happy to eat, but I'm talking deeper than that.”

He stopped eating. “Why are you so sad when you have a place to live and food to eat?”

So he wanted to play the “whose got it worse” game. He didn't know I had lost my job. He didn't know my wife had divorced me this year and taken away my children. He didn't know I had filed for bankruptcy after losing my house. Nor did he know about my doctor's diagnosis of colon cancer that threatened to take my life. That said, I did have an apartment to live in and food to eat thanks to the generosity of friends, family, and a part-time job I had taken in desperation.

“Let's just say, Josh, that some pretty bad things have happened to me over the past year. Different from yours, but still just as bad.” More like my world had fallen apart. I had become a failure at most everything. Who knew, I might end up joining Josh on the streets by the time it was all said and done.

Josh's chewed slowly before the food dropped into his stomach. “I still have my sister and it is Christmas. And right now, I have you.”

“Have me? Like I'm your mark?”

“Mark?”

“Someone you are tricking to get money from by telling a bunch of lies to garner their sympathy.”

Josh's eyes widened. “No! I mean I'm with you now. You care about me even though you don't know me. That makes me happy.”

I sat back in the chair as Josh continued eating. His perspective came into focus. Events didn't make him happy or sad. People did. Their genuine, selfless love did.

Josh glanced over my shoulder and froze as I heard the door chime ring behind me. He cowered into his chair and pulled his ratty, thin coat over his head. “He's here.”

“Who's here?” I peaked over my shoulder. A bearded man, around six-feet tall, stepped into the shop. His long, unkempt hair and long, black trench coat did give him a menacing appearance. The man made his way to the ordering counter.

Josh's voice quivered. “The man who killed mom and dad.”

I rubbed my forehead. Josh displayed true fear. He was telling the truth. This injustice needed to be rectified. Men like this one shouldn't be on the street. I took a deep breathe. Maybe I could get enough information on the man to tell the authorities. It might go south, but if I played my cards right, the man wouldn't suspect my motives.

By this point, the man stood at the register paying for his meal. I would ask the clerk for something and see if I couldn't start a conversation with the guy. I patted Josh's covered head. “I'll be right back. Stay here. I won't let him hurt you.” Though I had no idea how I would stop the bulky man if it came to it.

I scooted my chair back and approached him from the back. As my eyesight breached the man's shoulder, I saw him holding a gun discreetly toward the cashier as money was being stuffed into a bag. My plan wasn't a good idea. But here I was, standing right behind the man in the middle of committing a felony. If he didn't kill me, the cancer probably would. What did I have to lose at this point?

I laced my fingers together to form a hard ball, then swung it with all my might at the back of his head. The man lurched forward and his knees almost gave out. One of his hands grabbed the back of his head while he turned my way with his gun. Having the advantage of surprise, I knew it was now or never. I reared my right fist back, and stepped into an uppercut to the man's jaw. Reeling back, he hit the wall, shaking his head.

Before he could gain his bearings, I pulled the gun from his hand, then landed another blow to the side of his head with the firearm's butt. The burly man fell unconscious to the floor.

The stunned patron's clapping started slowly, then grew into a chorus as they realized what had transpired. The relieved cashier grabbed the phone. I helped him tie the man up in case he came to before the police arrived.

I returned to the table to discover Josh smiling like he'd just opened the best Christmas presence he'd ever received. In a manner of speaking, he had.

And so had I. “Josh, why don't we get your sister and for now, you two can stay at my apartment.”

He grinned. “That would be awesome!”

A bubbly lightness and contentment flooded over me. “Yes, it is awesome.” I thanked God for giving birth to new hope, once again. Like He did over 2000 years ago at His nativity. For the first time in a long while, I desired to celebrate Christmas—because of who was with me.

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While you're thinking about it, check out and get a copy of my devotional for the twelve days of Christmas: Celebrating the Fullness of Christmas An enriching and enjoyable way to make Christmas more real and fulfilling. Click on the cover photo to buy.

Orion's Integration

Note: the following short story is dedicated to Steve King, the husband of my writer friend, Lee King. Steve died of cancer recently after a long battle. May he find peace through his journey into the known unknown.

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[caption id="attachment_1114" align="alignright" width="256" caption="Wormhole Travel: A digital image by Les Bossinas for NASA"][/caption]

"Hard to believe we're finally here." Jill brushed her shoulder-length, brown hair behind her ears.

Daniel nodded as he adjusted a setting on the scanners. "At least we can say the money for this trip paid off."

A vast array of light and color spun in the blackness of space outside the portal of the spherical spacecraft dubbed Giclas. So named after the nearest system to their destination: GJ 3379 or Giclas 99-49, the closest star to Earth in the Orion constellation.

However, they didn't travel a little over eighteen years at near-light speed to check out the red dwarf. A probe could have accomplished that much cheaper. No, Earth Space Center had invested billions to verify the existence of the first stable wormhole just beyond the star.

From what Daniel could see, the odds they had found one looked good.

Jill focused on her instruments. "I recommend we slow to one quarter light speed. We're close enough to obtain preliminary sensor readings. We need to find out where the event horizon is."

"Do it."

Jill pressed a few buttons before running her right fingers down the throttle controls until it read one quarter. The thrusters kick in, pushing Daniel forward. Several minutes of deceleration would be required to reach the new speed.

Jill stared again at the worm hole. "Honey, you want to know something crazy?"

Daniel shifted his gaze to his wife. Dressed in her underwear—being they were the only two humans in eighteen light years distance, uniforms seemed pointless—she turned her blue eyes toward him.

"As if where we are isn't crazy enough. What?"

"Despite all the training, now that we're here, I'm scared to go in."

Daniel nodded toward the wormhole. "You'd be crazy not to be scared."

"Remember the phrase from that old TV show: To go where no man has gone before?"

"How could I forget."

"Did you ever think how that applied to everyone?"

"No. Do tell."

She spun her chair to face him. "Simple. Change the 'no man has' to 'I've never'."

Daniel smiled. "Ah. Where I've never gone before."

"When we were married, I was excited, but scared. I had high hopes, but I didn't know what pains we'd face together either. We were explorers of our unknown."

Daniel pointed to the swirling cosmic drain. "Though no one has been here before, or ever gone through a wormhole, for me and you it would be the first time no matter how many might have been here before."

"Yes. Everyone is an explorer of life. Everyone is scared when facing the unknown."

Daniel mulled over her words. "Question is will we live though this experience to tell anyone? Are we also explorers of death?"

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The probe's signal flickered out. It had entered the wormhole and given them an introductory picture of what to expect. Gravitational forces were within tolerance levels, at least for the first few kilometers in.

They sat on the edge of the event horizon—on the edge of discovery or death.

Jill punched buttons, now fully dressed in uniform. This historic moment would be recorded. In the event anyone ever saw the vid, best to be professional.

"Sending the data to Earth Space Command. In a few years, they'll at least know we made it this far." A whoosh vibrated the ship as a communication array shot toward Earth's system at near-light speed.

Daniel leaned back in his chair and swiveled to face Jill. "This is it. There's nothing left but to go in."

Daniel stood, and Jill followed. They wrapped each other in a hug. Skin on skin, lips on lips, heart on soul. This could easily be their last moments together. Her body squeezed against his reminded him of all the memories they'd shared. To think this might be the end seemed unfair, but he knew eighteen years ago that this day would come.

Her lips parted from his. "I love you."

"Forever." Daniel gently planted another long kiss as he pulled her tight against his own body.

They released each other with a sigh and seated themselves at the controls. Daniel activated the video and sensor recording. He faced the camera.

"This is Commander Daniel Miller and Lieutenant Jill Miller of the spacecraft Giclas. The first stage of our mission has finished successfully. We have arrived at the wormhole and can verify it is here. We've done preliminary studies of the phenomena and sent that data back to Earth. This recording, should we make it back to Earth, will be a record of this historic moment. We've checked all systems, finished all needed task."

Daniel turned to Jill. "Lieutenant, take us in."

"Yes, sir." She raised the throttle and the ship lurched forward as engines responded with a whine.

Daniel watched the event horizon inch closer on the sensor display. He felt like he did the first time he had jumped off the high-diving board at the public pool as a kid. He would reach the point of no return and fall in.

"Here we go," Daniel called out as they pierced the edge of the horizon.

The ship quivered for a second, then the wormhole sucked it in. Dazzling light, colored like a rainbow, swirled about them. Though Daniel didn't sense any movement, sensors showed the end of the entry had disappeared, along with the stars of their galaxy. Pulsing lights and colors radiated around them.

Daniel glanced at Jill. Her eyes beamed back at him. He grinned. "We're not dead yet. What speed does the ship register?"

She examined her display. "Same speed we entered the wormhole."

"Doesn't feel like we're moving."

She frowned. "What if we aren't? We have no idea how long this will take. What if the trip takes months or years? Or if we aren't moving, we'll sit here forever?"

Daniel scratched his head. No telling how long to reach the other end. "Accelerate to zero point seven five light speed."

"Yes, sir." She reached for the controls.

In a flash the light of the wormhole vanished to be replaced with stars. Sort of, anyway. Not nearly as dense, and they appeared blotchier. Off in the distance two planets sat in space. One of them radiated light like a star, yet didn't appear to be on fire. More like the whole planet shined with its own glory.

The other planet, however, lay dark and lonely. Even the light from the first planet appeared to be absorbed by it. Like a benign black hole floating in space.

"Wow!" Jill stared at her display. "You'll never guess what sensors are picking up."

"How far?"

"Not sure. Spectral analysis is telling me those lights we're seeing aren't stars. They're galaxies."

"Galaxies!" Daniel rubbed his eyes. "That's why they're so spread out. We're not in a galaxy. But where? And why are two planets floating this far out without sun or galaxy?"

"Oh my." Jill hit more buttons. "I can't believe this."

"What?"

"Sensors are reading numerous wormholes surrounding these two planets."

Daniel swung around. "Seriously?" He breathed in deep. "Like all the galaxies of creation are tethered to this location with wormholes. Where are we?"

"You haven't realized it yet?" a man's voice rang from behind them.

They both swung their chairs around. Daniel shielded his eyes. Whoever he was, the light emanating from him blinded Daniel. His heart pumped hard and his body trembled.

"Who are you?" Daniel managed to get out.

"Do not be afraid." The man touched Daniel on the shoulder. Daniel stopped shaking and the blinding light dimmed. Daniel lowered his arms. A bearded humanoid man stood before them, dressed in clothing much like their own.

Daniel breathed deep. "Who are you and where are we?"

The man smiled and stretched out his hands.

Daniel examined them, then fixed his eyes on the man. "So?"

"Don't these scars tell you anything?"

Jill gasped and covered her mouth. "Jesus?"

The man grinned.

Daniel shook his head. "No, no, no. This alien is reading our thoughts somehow, and appearing as someone familiar." Daniel pointed to the two planets. "Next thing you know, he'll tell us those are Paradise and Hades."

"Excellent, Daniel. You're showing progress."

"Seriously?" Daniel rubbed his forehead. He glanced at Jill who appeared to be mesmerized by him. "So if those are Paradise and Hades, that means we're dead. Did the wormhole really kill us? This is the afterlife?"

The man's face fell. "You've been close to death for a long time. But you are not supposed to be here yet. You'll need to return."

Jill nodded. "That was the plan. Take initial readings and return through the wormhole if at all possible."

Daniel pointed into space. "Yes, and future expeditions would return to explore further based on our findings."

The man grinned. "Of course. The tower of Babel all over again. Look, return as soon as possible. Wait too long and you may be stuck here. Right now I can't guarantee you'll end up on Paradise."

The man vanished. The control room grew darker in his absence.

Daniel shook his head. "We had better go back. Do you have all the sensor data you can get?

Jill jerked her head toward him. "What?"

"Sensor data? Is there any more to get?"

"Oh." She swung her chair back around and examined her display. "No. We'd have to land on a planet to get more. I'm done."

"Good. Turn this ship around. Let's see if we can get back to our galaxy."

"Yes, sir."

Her formality reminded him of the video. He pressed the button to stop recording. "We should have him on the video. Which is good, because they'd never believe this otherwise."

Within a few minutes, Jill had accelerated the ship toward the wormhole. She stood and held out her hands. "Congratulation, Honey, we did it."

He met her halfway and fell into her embrace. "Yes we did. And we're not dead."

"Not yet, anyway." She glanced over her shoulder. "We're almost back to the wormhole. Then another eighteen years to Earth."

Daniel smiled. "The last eighteen were some of my happiest days, because I was with you. I imagine the next eighteen will be just as great."

"That's so sweet of you to say. There was a time I didn't think you wanted me around."

"I was a fool. Too caught up in my work to realized I had missed out on what was important." Daniel's lips met hers as they sank into the event horizon of the wormhole.

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Darkness. No stars, no planets, no ship. Daniel lay on something. A beep pierced the void, then another. A regular pattern emerged, reminding him of a heart monitor.

Light glowed in the distance, growing stronger. Cloth rubbed against his fingertips. Pains in his back and butt throbbed into existence. He lay in a bed somewhere. His eyes. He should open them.

He moved muscles that at first resisted, but gave in and responded with a jerk. He quickly shut them as light flooded in, blinding him. He remembered the alien claiming to be Jesus. Memories surfaced. Something must have gone horribly wrong in the wormhole. Was Jill okay?"

The beeping sped up. A shuffling sound met his ear. Footsteps. Jill must be okay. He cracked his eyes open, giving them time to adjust. A blurry face hovered over him.

"Oh my God."

That didn't sound good. He tried to call to her, but his parched throat couldn't create a sound. He opened his eyes wider, and Jill's face came into focus. She was smiling, but tears ran down her cheeks.

She fell onto his chest, sobbing. "Oh thank you, God. Thank you!"

A door opened and footsteps hurried into the room. Where did this person come from? Nurses scurried around him, busy taking his pulse, blood pressure, adjusting things.

Another woman entered. "Give him some water. About five CCs to start with." She moved over Daniel. "Mr. Miller, can you understand what I'm saying? Nod yes if you can."

Daniel forced aching muscles to nod his head yes. A straw entered his mouth.

"Take some water, Mr. Miller. Not too fast."

Over the next few minutes, nurses took readings and asked him questions. The water helped him to start talking again. Finally they started leaving the room. The doctor parted with the promise of scheduling an MRI.

Jill pulled a chair up beside him and held his hand. He squeezed it.

She laughed. "You don't know how long I've waited to feel you respond."

Daniel smiled. "Eighteen years?"

Her smile fell. "How did you know?"

"Obviously we're back on Earth. The last thing I remember is reentering the wormhole. I'm guessing something put me into a coma for the eighteen year trip home."

"Wormhole?"

"Yeah, you know. In the Orion constellation?"

She blinked her eyes.

"Remember, we met Jesus on the other side of the wormhole?"

She sighed. "Honey, we never left. You were involved in a car accident. You've been in a coma for the past eighteen years."

Daniel would have been more animated if his body wasn't so weak. "But it was real. All the time we spent in the spaceship together, alone. We became so close."

Jill smiled. Her blue eyes sparkled. "How sweet. I'm glad I was with you all that time. I had about given up hope you'd ever be with me again."

"Well, I'm here now. Ready to explore life with you."

Jill cradled his face in her hands. "I'm just glad you've come back to life."

"Well, I've explored death enough to know that life is all we have, here and in the next life. Forces you to put things in perspective. I've got two people to focus on. You and the man on the other side of that wormhole."

"A man?"

He squeezed her hand. "You called him Jesus. Long story."

She grinned and reached down to hug him. He found the strength to wrap his arms around her shoulders. Exploring new things was scary, but he had experience in that department. Who says the trip didn't happen. It was real, coma or no coma.

He could tell Earth Space Command exactly where to find that wormhole, but he wouldn't. People weren't ready to explore death. Nor would they expect to find life. Most didn't believe the man on the other side of death's wormhole.

The Hole

As readers of this blog may have noticed, my grand plans for writing this year fell flat. Taking mid-year stock, I'm working my way back into writing. I'm offering today a flash fiction science fiction story. One step at a time. Enjoy.

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[caption id="attachment_1089" align="alignright" width="300" caption="A simulated Black Hole of ten solar masses as seen from a distance of 600km with the Milky Way in the background (horizontal camera opening angle: 9°)"][/caption]

A sharp beep sounded through the small office. Jane pressed the com button. “Captain Riley speaking.”

“Captain, we've arrived at the black hole.”

“I'm on my way.” She spun from her black, high-back chair, around her oak desk, and through the door onto the bridge.

She settled into her metallic, cushioned chair perched over five stations and a screen displaying a swirling mixture of light and matter draining into a hole in space squarely in front of her.

“Darby, have scanners located the Hawthorn?” Jane studied the screen in hopes of spotting the troubled ship.

“No, Captain. Still searching.”

“Any com signals from the Hawthorn, Kirka?”

“Not yet, Captain. Scanning all frequencies.”

Jane tapped the chair's arm. Jerry should have been more careful. The Hawthorn was to study the black hole, not become part of it. If it wasn't for the other fifty crew members aboard that ship, she would have gladly let the black hole have Jerry and his ship.

“Captain, I have a signal.”

“Put it through.”

The image of the black hole vanished and a black man, trimmed beard, narrow face and short hair, filled the screen.

A smile spread across his face. “Lizard Lips! I should have known you'd be my rescuer.”

Three heads turned her direction, struggling not to smile. Jane assumed the other two didn't turn because they weren't successful. The nerve of Jerry to address her that way in front of her crew.

She rose from her seat and stepped forward. “This is Captain Bower of the starship Arizona. What is your status?”

Jerry's eyes widened. “Playing it formal I see. Well this is Captain Rider of the science ship Hawthorn. Our status is we need a tow out of here.”

“Why haven't you been sucked into the black hole yet?”

He shrugged with a smirk. “We're too ugly. The hole doesn't want us.”

Jane breathed deep to keep from exploding as muffled snickers filled the bridge. “Captain!”

He frowned. “I don't know. We're in some kind of no man's land. Enough power to keep from being pulled in, but not enough to escape. Our power won't last forever.”

Kirka called out, “Captain, I've triangulated their position. Coordinates sent to helm.”

Jane nodded. “Acknowledged. Dune, set a course no closer than ten kilometers to those coordinates. We don't want to make the same mistake Captain Rider did.”

“Yes, Captain. Executing.”

Jerry's lips lost their smile. “Jane, ten kilometers may be too close. We thought we were being safe. It's as if the event horizon reached out to us.”

“Any further out and the gravity beam may be too weak to keep a solid lock on your ship.”

“Just be careful.”

His genuine concern threw her off balance. “Uh . . . acknowledged.”

Within fifteen minutes, Dune announced, “We're positioned ten kilometers from the Hawthorn. Coming to a full stop.”

Jane faced the science station. “Darby, lock onto the Hawthorn with a gravity beam.”

He pushed a few buttons. “Lock established.”

“Dune, reverse course and see if we can't free the Hawthorn.”

“Executing, Captain.”

The engine grumbled under the stress. Lights dimmed as energy drained into the engines as they played tug-of-war with the black hole.

“Captain,” Darby yelled over the noise. “We're losing the lock from the pull of the engines. We'd have to move in closer to get a stronger one.”

Dune turned to Jane. “We've not moved the Hawthorn, but we are being pulled toward them.”

Jane pounded a fist into the chair. “Full stop. Release the gravity beam.”

Jerry frowned. “Too ugly to take. Too pretty to release.”

“Dune, move us away from the black hole.”

“Executing, Captain.”

The engines rumbled. Dune shook his head. “Captain, we're not moving. We're caught too.”

She stood up. “Impossible.”

“I tried to warn you,” Jerry said.

She gritted her teeth. “Your warnings need a warning. 'Don't trust him.'”

All five heads glanced her direction, eyes wide.

“You're never going to let that go, are you?”

“You stood me up. Next time I saw you, you had another victim wrapped around your arm.” Jane sat in her chair. She didn't mean to air her dirty laundry to the crew.

Jerry sighed. “Looks like you're trapped in more than one black hole. I had hoped time would heal that wound.”

She didn't respond. He had left a hole in her when that happened, true enough. A hole sucking her life away.

Darby snapped his fingers and danced them over a series of buttons. “Of course.”

Jane shot a stare his way. “Do you have something, Darby?”

He spun around in his chair. “Time. We're in a time bubble.”

“Explain.”

“The gravitational forces of the black hole create a time differential the closer you get to the event horizon. That's why we couldn't locate or contact the Hawthorn until we also entered the time bubble.”

Jane nodded. “So it isn't the gravity holding us in place, but time.”

Darby pointed at her. “Exactly. Moving away produces the illusion of standing still.”

Jane faced the screen. “Captain Rider, did you . . .” Static filled the screen. He had left the time bubble. “Dune, full throttle away from the black hole.”

“Executing, Captain.”

Jane leaned back into her seat. Perhaps Jerry was right. She had been immobilized from lack of forgiveness in her own private black hole. Maybe moving forward, even if it didn't feel like progress, was the way to escape both black holes.

It gave new meaning to the old phrase, “Time heals all wounds.” Or in this case, the hole in her heart.

Monkey Madness

I've not kept up this blog as originally planned, due to an increase in working in my wife's house cleaning business and probably over extending myself. Seems any time I plan to do extra writing, the work load increases giving me less time for writing. Good for paying the bills. Bad for getting much writing done. I'll keep working on it. Stay tuned.

Until then, I'm treating you to a special story. Back in 2007, I participated in a contest at Ray Gun Revival Magazine (no longer in operation). It had to be under 500 words and deal with "space monkeys." I entered the following story, and ended up winning 3rd place. It also appeared in a special edition of the Ray Gun Radio podcast which is still available.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the story!

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I told headquarters their idea proved they had developed a case of monkey madness. Never give a monkey a man's job. But did they listen? No. They trained and installed monkeys through the whole fleet. And now I'm sitting up in bed, a monkey holding a ray gun to my head.

"We're taking over the ship," the leader signed to me. "You've been holding out on us, and we want our due." He bared his teeth. "Are you going to hand it over willingly, or shall we take it by force, Captain?"

I signed back, "How about a third option? You would get a lot further if you simply did your jobs."

Hoots and howls arose among the group of monkeys filling my quarters. The leader stayed focused on me and smiled one of those cheesy monkey grins I'd seen on old TV shows. "We put up with those jobs so we could take over. Stupid humans didn't see this coming." He raised his head upward in a victory howl.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You pulled one over on us." Actually I hadn't been totally blind to the possibility. "I'll need to give the order."

He swung his limp hand at the com panel. "Remember, we have a ray gun trained on you. One false word . . ."

I paged the kitchen. "Release the bananas."

"Aye, Sir," crackled back over the com.

"Truth be told, I have a few in my quarters." I pointed at a locked storage door.

He nodded and jumped up and down. I opened the door and passed the bananas out. Hoots and monkey calls rang through the room. Soon they crammed the well preserved yellow delicacies into their mouths. Smacking noise vibrated through the room. Ten seconds ticked by before they all dropped dead in quick succession.

Food remains one of the most powerful weapons. In this case, the poisoned banana.

A call rang through the com. "Engineering, Sir. The monkeys are all dead, but we have a problem."

"Yes?"

"The navigation controls have been set to fly us into the nearest star."

"Unset it then." I felt impatient despite myself.

"Can't. The master controls are in a room so small, only a monkey could access them. We would have to tear through the anti-matter bulkheads to override and change course."

I pounded my fist on the desk. Blasted monkeys! I told headquarters the idea reeked. Especially monkeys designing ships, much less operating them. They've made monkeys of us all.

Gas: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Extra bonus story for January, a micro-fiction: under 100 words (99 to be exact). Easy to read between tasks. Enjoy.

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Timmy tugged on his dad's trousers. "Dad, my teacher said gas is bad for the Earth. Is it?"

"Well, it does pollute the air. Exhaust belching from tailpipes—"

"No, I mean like, stuff in the air, gas."

He nodded. "The air is full of gases like hydrogen, nitrogen, oxy—"

"No, Dad. I released some gas. Did I destroy the Earth! I've gotta know!"

"Ah...well, I doubt it. Flavored it a bit, maybe, but I think Mother Earth will handle it fine."

Timmy breathed deeper. "That's good. We can turn the stove off when we get home then."

What Does the Tree Say?

"Dad, what about that one?" asked Jerry.

Doug wiped the accumulated snow from his glasses. "Too young, son." A live Christmas tree, she wanted. The artificial tree had sufficed for years. Why her sudden desire for a live one? It only added more work to an overburdened to-do list.

His boots crunched the new fallen snow as they weaved through the trees. The crisp smell of freezing air prompted him to tighten his hood while he cradled an ax in his elbow against his body. Jerry, his five-year-old son, dashed ahead of him.

Doug recalled Joan's words, "I want a live tree. Not the farm-raise trees they sell in the lots. I like my Christmas tree wild and fresh!"

What had gotten into that woman? It was a tree. Not a fish. But she had her heart set on one, so he was traipsing through a forest in knee-deep snow, trying to find a wild Christmas tree.

"Dad, Dad! I found one. Come and see!" Jerry's young voice pierced the still air.

A full moon lit the sky, highlighting his path. Doug rounded a large, snow-laden fur. He froze.

The perfect Christmas tree glowed, casting shadows from surrounding trees. Its light wasn't a reflection of the moon, but radiated from within. Doug sucked in a deep breath.

"See, Dad. Isn't it perfect?"

Doug let the ax handle slide through his glove until he gripped the end. "She wants wild? This should fit the bill." He picked a clear shot to the trunk and waved his left hand. "Stand back, son. Don't want to hurt you."

Jerry hopped, clapping his hands. "Yippe!" He moved backward five leaps.

Doug placed the ax head against the trunk to line up the swing. "Let's get this over with." He pulled the ax back until it lined up with his shoulder, then swung down with all his might. The blade connected with the wood.

A bright light flashed, blinding Doug. A force shoved him off his feet, burying him into the snow on his back.

Doug blinked a few times. His eyes focused on the night stars from within his icy-walled canyon. The tree-tops reached into the night sky.

What had happened? Doug wiggled his fingers and toes. Didn't feel like he'd broken anything. He pushed himself up with his elbows. "Jerry, you okay?"

A growl echoed through the cold air. The face of a fox sat inches away from Doug's.

Doug gulped. "Nice foxie."

"Who gave you authority to cut down the tree?" The fox's nose flared.

Doug's jaw dropped.

"Come on human scum. Who?"

"You're . . . you're talking!"

"And you're stalling." The fox bared his fangs. "Confess! By who's authority?"

Doug shook his head. Had he hit his head on a rock? He felt the back of his skull for a wound but found none. Why was a fox asking him this question, even if it could talk.

Doug rubbed his forehead. "My wife, Joan."

The fox cocked his head. "Don't know any Joan." He turned his head behind him. "Clive, you take over. I'm not getting anywhere."

A fluttering noise broke through the night air. An owl's face peered into Doug's ice canyon. "My, my, my! What have we here? I should think one would consider the repercussions when considering random acts of violence against trees."

Doug rubbed his eyes. An owl with a British accent? Now he knew he was hallucinating. "You don't have any lips. How can you talk?"

Clive flapped his wings. "Sir, I don't consider offending me a plus to your case. If you'd be so good as to answer our questions, we'll be done with it and on our way."

Doug breathed deep. Nothing to do but play along with this bizarre story line. "Mind if I sit up?"

"See," the fox said. "The hairless pup is worthless."

Clive's head rotated behind him. "That's quite enough, Mr. Furball." He pivoted his eyes back to Doug. "If you'll answer our questions, please proceed."

Doug pushed himself into a sitting position. Clive perched on a branch protruding from the snow drift. Mr. Furball sat on his haunches by a tree a few feet away. The glowing tree radiated beside them. A hole in the snow in the shape of an ax marked the location of his tool.

But no sign of his son. "Did you see a little boy?"

Clive ruffled his feathers. "Enough! You'll answer our question first."

Doug sighed. "What question was that?"

Clive let out an owl hoot. "Who!"

Doug smiled. Now the owl was making a pun. He might need a shrink after this. Or at least a drink. Maybe a drink with a shrink.

Doug scratched his whiskered chin. "You mean on who's authority? I told you already. If that isn't good enough, I don't know what you're looking for."

"Unless you're name is Joan, and you don't fancy that name at all, that is no answer."

They probably had some city hall run by a mayor badger that issued permits. There's no way he could guess. "I don't have anyone's authority. All I wanted to do is get a Christmas tree. Is that a crime?"

Clive glanced at Mr. Furball. "So you do have authority to cut down the tree?"

Doug stared at Clive. "I do?"

"You just said it. Who?"

Authority? "Uh, the Doctor?"

Clive folded his wings over his head.

Mr. Furball dashed toward them, sliding to a stop, snow falling into Doug's lap. "What does the tree say?"

Doug fixed his eyes on the tree, its tip pointing into the vast array of stars. He raised his eyebrows. "Christmas tree. Christ. Jesus Christ."

Darkness swallowed Doug. His eyes flickered open. Paramedics swarmed around him as he lay in the snow.

"He's responding."

Jerry's face popped into view. "Dad! You'll be all right."

A paramedic pulled plates from his chest. "Mr. Stilwell, your son saved your life. He used your cell phone to call 911. You had gone into cardiac arrest. Luckily we were in the area."

Doug frowned. He had been hallucinating. Yet it had felt so real. He glanced toward the tree. It lay on the ground, the trunk cut cleanly in two. Only the moonlight glistened against the snow stuck to its leaves.

In the distance, an owl cried out, "Who?"

Doug yelled back, "Who!"

Jerry smiled. "The tree points to Him. That's why you're alive."

Doug grinned. It took his son, a fox, an owl, and a tree to drive home the truth. Christmas isn't about a list of whats, but a who. Who the tree points to.

Mayhem Negotiations

This story resulted from throwing two more titles together to form a new one as a writing prompt. I also challenged our local writing club to come up with their version for tonight's meeting. Enjoy.

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"Don't tell me you forgot?" Mary sighed over the phone.

Tom fumbled with his desk calendar. "Honey, of course not." Today was May 15th. What happened on the 15th?

"What do you have planned?"

"Ah, a birthday party."

She huffed. "No! Not a birthday."

Tom snapped his fingers. Their 20th wedding anniversary. "Yes, a birthday. The birthday of our 20-year marital bond."

Her voice grew softer. "You did remembered?"

He laughed. "Forget our 20th? Are you kidding?"

"How are we celebrating it then?"

Think, think. He palmed his forehead. "You remember that Italian restaurant we ate at during our honeymoon? We have reservations."

She squealed. "I can't wait! I love you, honey."

"I love you too. I'll pick you up around six."

"Bye."

"Bye." He wiped his brow. Narrowly escaped that one. He pushed the intercom button. "Barbara, call Andiamo Ristorante and make reservations for two at six."

"Right away, Mr. Longshot."

Tom turned his attention to his paperwork. Sharp raps rattled his office door. His boss, Ben, opened the door and stood before Tom's desk. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"

Not again! "Who me? Forget?"

Ben stared at him. "You did, didn't you?"

"How could I forget...ah, the birthday party."

Ben frowned. "Since when is meeting an advertising client a birthday party?"

Ah. Of course. "Meeting new clients is the birth of a new beginning. We're meeting with the owners of Andiamo Ristorante at..." Tom swallowed.

Ben pointed at Tom. "They'll be here at six. Don't be late."

Tom smiled and threw his hands up. "Where else would I be but here?"

Ben smiled and nodded. "See you at six." He left, closing the door behind him.

Tom let his head fall into his hands. "Now what am I going to do? I'm doomed."

"Perhaps I can help?" A sweet woman's voice met Tom's ear.

He jerked up his head. A young woman, black hair, wearing a tight, blue, knee-length skirt with matching blouse stood against the far wall.

Tom cleared his throat. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

She waved her hand: sparkles grew and died off in its wake. "I'm your fairy secretary. Were you expecting your godmother?"

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. "A fairy what?"

She frowned. "Secretary. All executives have one."

She walked to his desk. "I know your predicament. You need a double."

Tom sat back up. "You can do that?"

"Just watch." She waved her hands in a figure eight pattern, then thrust them toward him. Sparkles engulfed him, then moved in unison next to Tom. As they died off, a second Tom stood beside the original.

Tom looked over the double as it did the same. "Wow," both Tom's said at the same time.

Tom paused, then turned to his fairy secretary. Both said, "Does he say everything I do?"

The fairy secretary nodded. "It is one of the limitations of a double. It doesn't have its own independent thought."

"That's annoying. How am I supposed to do both at the same time?"

She smiled. "It will take a little language negotiation. Chow." She disappeared into thin air.

Tom stared at himself. "Now not only can I talk to myself. I can talk back too."

----------------

Mary and Tom entered the restaurant. The head waiter greeted them. "Your name, sir?"

"Tom Longshot."

"Glad to meet you." The owner put out a hand to shake. "I'm Louie Armori, and this is my wife, Loraine. I look forward to your presentation."

The waiter said, "Ah, here you are." He checked off their name. "Follow me."

Tom shook Louie and Loraine's hands. "I look forward to it as well."

The waiter looked over his shoulder. "Sir?"

"Eating at your restaurant." Tom grinned at Mary's inquiring stare.

Louie and the waiter said at the same time, "Ah! You've not eaten here/there before?"

Tom swallowed. "Twenty years ago. Been a while."

Ben rose and proceeded to give some introductory comments to the Armoris while the waiter seated Tom and Mary.

After the waiter left, Mary gazed upon Tom. "You've been quiet tonight. What's going on in your brain?"

Tom whispered, "Waiting to start."

She raised an eyebrow. "Start what?"

Ben frowned at Tom. "My accomplice is ready. Tom?"

Tom cleared his throat. "Romance."

Mary leaned in closer. "Here?"

"Food is romance."

Louie nodded. "Catchy slogan. I like it."

Mary wrinkled her brow. "So you're waiting to eat before talking?"

Tom danced in his mind. "Romance is more than a touch, more than a feeling. Romance is two people bonding through the intimate act of eating with sexual appeal." Tom placed his hand on Mary's. "Then a touch is transformed into romance."

Mary gazed into his eyes. "How sweet."

Ben stared at Tom with a "what are you doing" expression.

Loraine smiled. "I like him."

Louie pointed a finger at Tom. "Great, but how do we get that across to the public?"

The waiter returned with a bottle of wine. "Are you ready to order?"

Tom replied in his sexiest voice, "Shrimp Alfredo, garlic bread, and a salad topped with your finest blue cheese dressing."

Louie sat taller. "Ah, I see. The TV ad will show a couple sexily ordering, then the slogan, 'Food is romance.' Brilliant!"

Ben's wide eyes stared at Tom. "Yeah, brilliant. That's what I told him."

Mary grinned. "Oh Tom, I've never heard you order food that way before." She glanced at the waiter. "I'll have the same."

Louie rose from his chair and extended his hand. "You've sold me."

Tom shook his hand. "I'm happy we're going to work together."

Mary's face fell. "What?"

Tom grabbed a glass of wine. "Here's to a fabulous future together."

Mary leaned over and kissed Tom. "I love you."

Louie gave him a thumbs up. Tom watched as Louie and Loraine followed Ben to the elevator.

Tom let out a deep breath. "Glad that's over."

Micro-Fiction: Slimdown Tantrum

Decided to write a "micro-fiction" story.  While there's no set definition for the term, in my experience it is a story of around 300 words or less. I've done a 100 word micro-fiction back in 2008, still on the web at the Resident Aliens blog, called, "The Battle." Flash fiction is usually defined as being 1000 words or less, by comparison.

To title my micro-fiction and use it as a prompt, I visited Foxnews.com again to find the words of the title, "Slimdown Tantrum." As I write these words, I've not even started thinking much about what the story is about. No idea at this point. The trick is to tell a whole story with scene setting, character development, and a beginning, middle, and end plot within 300 words. What follows is my attempt. We'll see how I fared. At the end, I'll relate any relevant info about the process once done.

-----------------------

"Thank you for flying Angel Flights." The perky stewardess tugged her miniskirt uniform down. "We handle the space race so you don't have to." She plastered on a smile. "We'll arrive at Moonbase Gama in five hours. "

Her smile morphed into a sympathetic frown. "Unfortunately, slimdown is in effect to escape Earth's gravity. Did anyone bring any unchecked luggage?"

The nine passengers glanced at each other. No one spoke up.

The stewardess bit her lip. "If not, someone will have to take another flight.  Who will volunteer?"

Several stared at a man in a black business suit and dark glasses. His frowned. "I'll lose millions if I miss my meeting."

A lady in a knee-length skirt held her daughter's hand. "We're attending a funeral."

Each passenger gave excuses to stay.

"What about you, sir?" The stewardess pointed at a man in the back.

His eyebrow twitched. "I need to go. Meeting someone."

"We'll throw in first-class treatment if you wait."

He jumped from his seat, whipping out a small pistol. "I'm not getting off." He pointed the gun at the lady and her daughter. "You two, bye bye."

They stared at him a moment before sliding into the walkway.

A shot rang through the cabin. The attacker collapsed to the floor.

The business-suited man, a gun in his hand, flipped out a badge. "Space Marshall. Sorry, but we had to flush him out. He's wanted for treason."

The stewardess sucked in a deep breath. "Against Earth?"

"No." He pulled a necklace off the corpse. The human image faded into a cross between an octopus and a hamster. "Mars." He replaced the necklace and pulled out a pen. "I need you to all look this way."

----------------------------

Spent about 10 minutes figuring out what to write. Another 50 minutes writing it. Ended up around 360 words. I then spent 25 minutes editing it until I got it down to 296 words, an 18% reduction. Not the greatest story in the world, but fun. Hope you enjoyed it as well as taking a peak into my process writing it.

Final score: 296 word micro-fiction written and edited in 1.5 hours.

The Balloon Ark

Here is October's free fiction. This month is an unusual story. I tried, for the first time, one of Dean Wesley Smith's tricks. He unusually, to figure out what short story to write, and sometimes novels, pulls together random half-titles to form a new title, and use that as his prompt. Since I don't have a list of half titles, I strolled over to Fox News website and looked at current headlines. From two different headlines, I pulled "balloon" and "evacuation." I threw them together to come up with the title "Balloon Evacuation." That created in my mind the following story. After finishing it, I changed the title to more closely match the story.

With that back story in place, sit back, relax, and enjoy this month's free fiction. A 4000 word near-future science fiction treat.

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Joe fingered the fragment of paper he'd found months ago in his mother's belongings. He read it again for the umpteenth time.

And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth. Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch. And this is how thou shalt make it...

Why did it have to stop there? If this was a message from God, why leave it up to his imagination how to create this ark? Yet the inhabitants of Behyadel grew more violent, so surely this God would destroy them. Finding the fragment was certainly a warning from this God to save his family.

A tug on his pants pulled Joe from his thoughts. His son, Joshua, stared at him. He held up a short pole, pointed on one end, and dangling a flag. "I made it, Dad. For the ark. It goes on top." An emblem of a red balloon against a blue background hung limply from the pole.

Joe smiled, hoisted the six-year-old onto his lap, and received the flag. "Very nice and sturdy. I'll put it on tonight." Joe leaned the flag against the chair. "What did you learn in school today?"

A smile sprang to his face. "About wind before the covering. Dad, is it true such a thing existed? How can you feel it if you can't see it?"

It did sound like a myth. The history books recorded such a thing before radiation filled the land and the covering protected them. The hand of God, some called it. Perhaps this God would destroy Behyadel by removing his hand and allowing the radiation in.

"Dad, will we find wind with the ark?"

Joe shrugged. "According to your mom we will."

"I heard that," Mary said from the kitchen.

Joshua giggled.

Joe tousled his son's hair. "Maybe we'll find out tomorrow."

Joshua grinned. "Are we leaving tomorrow?"

"Just as soon as you eat your dinner and get a good night's sleep."

Joshua leaped from his dad's lap. "I'm eating now, then." He dashed into the kitchen to engage his mother.

Joe glanced out the window at the ark sitting in the lot next door. He'd made it of wood, though hard to find. Nothing called gopher wood, but he hoped what they had was sufficient. Sealed in pitch. Attached to the hull lay a deflated balloon. Joshua's idea.

"Make it fly like a balloon," he'd said.

Made sense. If God released radiation under the cover, they'd need a means to fly over it. Research provided concepts for a giant balloon filled with hydrogen that would raise it into the air. They could live in it until the radiation left. He hoped.

Tomorrow they'd lift off. Joe rose from his seat and grabbed Joshua's flag. "Mary, I'm going to start the balloon to filling. It'll take all night."

"Okay, honey. Don't stay gone too long or your supper will grow cold."

"Will do." He opened the door and left the house.

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The rust-red balloon towered over the surrounding houses. Ropes held the balloon to a rectangular, windowless, wooden house. The ends of the balloon hovered over the houses on either end.

Joe scanned down to see neighbors already gathered around it. He'd told them he was building a house. The huge balloon gave away that this was perhaps more than a house.

Joshua yanked on his dad's pants. "I don't see the flag."

"You can't see the top from here. The balloon is too big, but it is up there. I assure you."

Joshua nodded. "I'm ready."

Joe glanced at Mary. "What about you?"

She swallowed. "You moved the last of the supplies in last night, right?"

Joe winked at her. "Including your makeup."

She smiled, but immediately grew serious. "Are you sure? About..." She nodded her head toward the balloon.

Joe rubbed his forehead. Of course he had his doubts. Could he had interpreted the fragment wrong? Maybe it was mere chance he'd come across it, and not a message from God. But he couldn't back down now.

"Mary, I feel strongly this is God's will. But if nothing happens to destroy the world while we're up there, it will simply be an unusual vacation and we'll be back home in a few days."

She bowed her head and nodded.

Joe rubbed her back. "It'll be fun."

She straightened up and let out a deep breath. "I'm sure it will be. Let's go." She headed across the street to the towering balloon.

Joshua skipped behind her and bounced ahead.

Joe smiled while lifting the two suitcases of clothing they'd packed and followed behind them.

Henry, a balding man with a gut to match saw Joe coming. "Neighbor! Seems you added a new set of floors to your house last night."

Joe smiled weakly. "I suppose you could say that."

Henry pointed at one end of it. "That part is sort of hanging over my house. We're you planning on spying on me or can you cut that part off?"

"Well, Henry, I'll do you one better than that. I'll remove it within the hour."

Henry suppressed a laugh. "Whata you going to do? Fly the whole thing out of here?

Joe moved past him and headed toward their new home. "Something like that." Joe glanced back. Henry stared at him as if saying, "What did you say?" No doubt they would create quite the news in the community.

"Joe Lumbar?"

Joe turned. A police officer approached him. "Yes, I'm Joe."

He pointed at the balloon. "You know this violates at least six city ordinances. We're going to have to ask you to tear it down."

Joe sucked in a breathe. "Yes, officer. I'll get right on it."

"Why are you taking personal items into it?"

"I've got to get my wife and kid out first."

The officer glanced at the creation. "Okay, but I'd better not return and find you living here."

Joe smiled. "You won't even know we've been here."

The officer signed a paper, ripped it off and handed it to Joe. "Just in case, here's your warning. Next one will be a citation if I don't see progress." He stuffed it in Joe's hand. "Good day, sir." Then he spun on his heel and headed down the street.

Joe laughed and stuffed it in his pocket. He gazed into the sky. The same waves of light rolled over the sky as it always had. Occasionally a small dark spot sliced through them. Then Joe saw a rather large dark spot, bigger than any he'd seen before. It worked its way across the sky.

Joe breathed deep. That was surely a sign if anything was. Time to launch. The cover might fail at any time and flood them with radiation. He stepped inside the door, placed the suitcases on the floor, and turned to close the door.

The neighbors continued to gawk at his house. He resisted an urge to give a speech. Instead, he waved goodbye and shut the door. He hoped for their sake that he was wrong about the coming destruction.

He carted the suitcases into their bedroom. Then he waved Joshua over. "Come with me to the control room." Joe headed up a spiral staircase. Joshua followed close behind.

Mary scurried behind them. "I'm not staying down here alone when you launch this thing."

Joe entered the upper loft he'd labeled the control room. The upper third story of the house, being half the floor space of the other two stories, it rested on top like small box stacked on a larger one. This room contained the only room in the house with windows, to minimize any radiation exposure—he hoped.

The front window displayed the nose of the balloon stretching out over his neighbor's house. In front of the window rested a wheel-less bicycle bolted to the floor. Two levers, one on each side of the bike, awaited his commands. They adjusted the rotation of the two propellers to forward or reverse, to turn or move one direction. To the right of the bike, against the wall, rested two more levers. One to release the tie-downs to take off. The other to expel hydrogen from the balloon for landing.

Mary sat in a chair against the back wall. Joe climbed on the bike and placed his feet on the pedals. "Joshua, would you like to launch us?"

A smile beamed over his face. "Really? I can do that?"

Joe pointed. "Just pull down on the far, right lever."

Joshua dashed to the lever, placed his hands firmly around it, then paused. He looked back, a grin indicating his excitement. "Ready?"

Joe gave him a thumbs up. Mary said, "Let's get this over with."

Joshua returned his attention to the lever. "Here we go!" He yanked on the lever. It barely grunted an inch. Joshua pulled harder. The lever resisted, but slowly gave way and landed with a loud thud against the stop.

The floor under them lurched upwards. Boards creaked in protest. Joshua fell against the wood floor with a grunt. Screams echoed from outside. The horizon bobbed up and down. Joe feared the house might fall apart. But it didn't. The bobbing slowed to a shallow wobble. The horizon sank beneath the edge of the house.

Joshua lifted himself up and then stared out the window. "We did it, Dad! We're flying."

Mary wobbled from her chair to stand by Joshua. "You have a design flaw. You can't see the ground. How are you going to land?"

Joe pointed at a door. "That leads onto the roof. There is a line one can hook to so you can lean over the side and direct the driver."

"Me!" She swung to face Joe. "You expect me to lead over the edge?"

"It's perfectly safe."

She stared at the ceiling and huffed. "Ever hear of mirrors?"

Joe smiled sheepishly. "Ah. Good idea wife."

She headed for the stairs. "Guess I'd better see what's left of the house, straighten up, and fix lunch. Then I'll do some exercise to be ready to repel down the side of our flying home." She stomped down the steps, mumbling.

Joe hopped off the bike and pulled out from the left, front wall a crank handle. He turned it clockwise. Mirrors rose from the front and both sides. The front mirror displayed a wider view. Already the houses below had shrunk to postage-stamp size.

Joshua stared at the front mirror. "When you telling Mom about this."

Joe grinned. "After I see if she will really lean over the side."

Joshua shook his head. "You're going to get it something awful."

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The three sat around the dinning room table, holding hands. Joe had moved the table over after dinner the night before. He had wanted something familiar to ground themselves in.

Joe bowed his head. "Lord, we than you for your gifts of food and protection. May your love accompany us on our journey and your mercy be with them below. Amen."

Joshua grabbed a sandwich. "How high up are we, Dad?"

"Can't say for sure. Last I looked, I couldn't make out specific houses anymore."

Mary smirked. "Leaned over the edge yourself, did you?"

Joe smiled. "Yeah. At least we should be safe from the radiation up here." He hoped.

"And from all our neighbors as well."

Joe grinned. "I would have liked to have seen the looks on their faces when our house took off."

"It's probably all over town by now. Maybe on Behyadel news."

Joshua swallowed his bite. "Dad, will we feel the wind now?"

Joe held out his hand. "Listen."

All three remained motionless. An occasional creak of the house broke the silence."

"I don't hear anything." Joshua stared at his father.

"Exactly. I'm told you can hear the wind if it is going fast enough."

A loud crash echoed through the house. All the furniture leaped upward and bounced back down, throwing sandwiches into the air and all three onto the floor. A loud screeching sound flooded the room.

Joe crawled to the stairs as the floor rocked violently, and worked his way up them, holding onto the railing. By the time he entered the control room, the rocking had died off some. He wobbled to the crank and lowered the mirrors for a better view in front of them.

Mary and Joshua bounced into the room. They stared out the window. Past the nose of the balloon, a glass-like surface disappeared into the distance.

"What happened?" Mary asked.

Joe shook his head. "Not sure, but we've hit something."

"The cover." Joshua pointed at the surface above the balloon. "We've hit the top of the sky."

Joe waved his hand. "Listen."

Over the creaking of the house, the sound of cracking met their ears.

"Honey, what's that noise?"

Joe headed for the door. "I'll go find out."

"Be careful."

"I will."

Joshua ran to his father. "Can I come?"

"No!" they both said at the same time.

Joshua hung his head.

Joe knelt on one knee. "Look, son. It may be dangerous out there. Promise me if I don't come back, you'll look after your mother."

"Dad—"

"Joseph Naza!" Mary put her hands on her hips. "How dare you lay that on him. He's just a boy. You come back or I swear I'll kill you."

Joe nodded with a half-smile. "You're right. I will be back, but for now, we'll only risk one of us going." He hugged Joshua and Mary before heading to the door.

Being on the other side of the wall knowing many feet lay between him and the ground, did give him a sense of unease. He grabbed the rope and tied it around his waist. He tugged on the end of the rope around a post to ensure it was secure and checked the safety latch.

Joe scanned the sky. The shadows appeared much bigger now. Light waves rolled across the surface, but more cracking sounds shattered the quiet. He'd have to climb to the top of the balloon to see what they'd hit.

Joe grabbed the first rung of the rope ladder that led to the top of the balloon. He'd gone several rungs when he stopped. He rubbed his fingers together. Wetness? Why would the rope be wet? He examined the rope closely. A trickle of water ran down the rope. Drops cascaded off the ladder higher up at the curve of the balloon.

A surge of water swished over his hands. The water came from above and was growing by the second. More loud cracking sounds echoed across his ears. He turned to see cracks extending past the balloon. Whatever the covering was, it was breaking apart. Joshua's flag pole on top of the balloon must have punctured the cover. And water was on the other side. Not radiation.

Joe headed back down as fast as he dared. Sheets of water began to pour over his head. The flow increased quickly. A loud popping sound shattered the air. A large piece of thick glass bobbed over the balloon and fell toward the ground. Behind it a surge of water raced to catch it.

Water swept over Joe. He gasped for air as it pushed him onto the roof of the house. He struggled to get to his feet but the flow of water shoved him back down and scooted him closer to the edge of the house.

Mary and Joshua stared at him from the window.

Joe yelled, "Reel in the rope!"

Mary and Joshua glanced at each other. She shrugged her shoulders.

Two more loud pops. More water careened over the balloon. The wave of water shoved Joe toward the edge. Joe pointed at the rope reel and demonstrated the motions of cranking. Mary and Joshua stared back in horror.

The water flooded over him anew, and he slid along the roof. He could find nothing to grab as the edge grew closer. He couldn't stop it. He slipped over the edge as water shot over the roof and away from the wall.

His heart raced as he fell. Patches of land and cities dotted the land below. A stream of water fell toward his old home. His neighbors. The citizens of Behyadel. They would all drown because of his ark. As might himself. He'd doomed them all. Not the radiation.

He grimaced as the rope around his waist tightened and broke his fall. He swung under the house, then back toward the sheets of water flowing off the roof. Thankfully he'd not gone too far up the balloon, and the safety had engaged. Otherwise, he could be many feet below the house. As he gained his air back, he pulled himself up now that the water didn't hit him directly.

As he approached the bottom of the house, he spied the front door. He could swing to it. He positioned himself alongside the house and then began swinging on the rope. Each pass he drew closer until he grabbed the door knob. He pulled himself over and held onto the doorpost. He turned the knob. The door flung open.

Joe grabbed the inside door knob with his other hand. The door pushed him into the edge of the water streaming from the roof. Joe shoved his body weight toward the house. The door shifted toward the house. He let go of the outside door knob and snagged the inside of the doorpost. With a grunt, he shoved himself into the house.

Joe lay on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Several pops rang from above, and the whole house jumped upward and shook. No time to catch a breath. Their house was about to break through the covering. He pushed himself up, closed the front door, then trudged up the stairs as fast as his body allowed him.

The sight of Mary hugging Joshua, both crying, greeted him.

"Anyone call for a plumber?"

Mary and Joshua spun around.

"Dad!" He ran and hugged his father's legs.

Mary embraced him. "I thought you were gone."

"Hey, I promised I'd be back."

The house jerked upward again, sending them collapsing to the floor. Joe scanned the covering. Between the streams of water, the cracking cover was visible.

Joe pulled himself onto the bike. "You two had better sit in the chairs. They're bolted to the floor, so should keep you from rolling around on the floor."

Joshua landed in a seat. "What's happening?"

"If I'm not mistaken, we're about to break through the covering. Apparently there is water on the other side."

Shards of glass followed by heavier streams of water fell below them. The cracks in the distance let more liquid through, and chunks of covering fell, leaving holes for the invader to enter.

The house fell, then bobbed back up. Then fell again. The flow of water had grown strong enough to push the balloon down, but it kept pushing back up. Then, within thirty minutes, the house started to sink and not go back up. The balloon was deflating. No doubt shards of the covering had punctured it.

The speed of descent increased. They'd likely smash into the ground. He hadn't saved his family by building an ark. He'd condemned them and all of Behyadel with them. He must have misunderstood God big time.

The house slammed into something. Mary and Joshua screamed. Water flew away from the house, which bobbed back and forth. Endless horizon of water met Joe's eyes. The pitch. He'd followed what little instructions he'd had. The pitch was to keep the water out. The ark wasn't a balloon, it was a water vessel. Something the Behyadelsians had no need of.

The balloon listed to the right side of the ark, leaving a clear view of the sky. Giant sprouts of water poured into Behyadel. The water carried their house back toward the covering. Water flowing from the biggest hole, where the balloon had pierced it, pushed them away. The house floated around, pulled by eddies and pushed by streams of water.

The house bumped the covering, and scraped against it as the rising water forced them up to the top of the dome. As the house moved closer to the broken area of the covering, the water rose over the house. They would soon be submerged. Could the sealed house withstand it? And for how long? One way or another, they'd soon find out.

Joe's ears popped. A small stream of water entered around the door. "Joshua, in the closet is some pitch. Go get it, spread it around the door downstairs and this one up here.

"Yes, sir." He bolted down the stairs.

"That won't do much, will it? I mean, doesn't it have to set?" Mary asked.

"Yes, but it will give him something to do, and it might help."

Joshua soon appeared with a bucket in hand and a spatula. "It doesn't seem to be doing much."

Joe nodded. "Give it a try anyway."

Joshua knelt and started trying to spread the pitch between the door jam and the door. It did seem to slow the water flow some.

Joe pointed out the window. "We're clearing the covering." A hole approached among the fractured glass. "Joshua, get in your seat and hold on."

Joshua slammed the lid on the bucket down and returned to his seat. "Here we go!"

The front of the house pulled upwards over the edge of the glass. Joe held fast to the bike as the bucket of pitch slid to the back wall with a thud. The house jerked, then raced upwards. Five minutes passed, and his ears popped again. Water sloshed against the back wall, soaking Mary and Joshua's feet.

Light grew brighter. Joe's eyes began to hurt. Another surface raced toward them. Joe gripped the bike hard. "Hold on. Looks like we're about to hit another glass wall."

The light continued to increase in intensity. Joe squinted, not wanting to miss the final moments of his life. The new surface approached fast. Joe braced.

The new surface gave way without a fight. The front of the ark broke into fresh air, paused above the water as if standing on its rear, then splashed back down to float on a new surface.

All three sat in stunned silence. Both recovering from the shock of not dying and the shock of this new world. A solid blue sky held puffs of white floating lazily along. Why they didn't fall, Joe had no idea.

"Listen," Joshua said.

Joe listened. An irregular howling sound rang in his ears.

Joshua raced from his chair to the door. "Wind!"

"Wait!" both of them yelled.

Joshua flung the door open. An invisible force pushed his hair back and vibrated his collar.

When Joe reached the door, the wind caressed his wet face. All three stood in the open door. An endless sky. An endless body of water. An invisible force. What more could this new world surprise them with?

Mary held up a scrap of paper. "This makes more sense now."

Joe took it. Another fragment of his mother's. He read it.

The wind bloweth where it will, and thou hearest the voice thereof, but knowest not whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.

------------------

Recorded in old history books—which most Behyadelians of Joshua's time considered myths—is a story of possible nuclear war. A prototype dome, designed to filter radiation out but allow the transference of air and carbon dioxide, was constructed in Utah, USA in hopes of sheltering large numbers of people. Before testing could be completed, the feared war started. While the dome performed as expected, the tectonic plates shifted from the explosions, resulting in Utah once again being covered in water.

Though not designed to work under water, due to the shallow distance to the surface, the dome held, keeping the water out while filtering in breathable air. However, the unplanned pressure on the dome weakened it after several generations. Eventually it would have collapsed on its own, but Joseph's balloon ark, puncturing it with Joshua's flag pole, hastened its demise.

The future of humanity now rests in the small family of three, Joseph, Mary, and Joshua, surviving and prospering in this new world, and writing a new history of mankind.

Written from then on in the sacred text, God is recorded as saying, "I only promised not to cover the whole world in water again. I didn't say anything about radiation."

The Balloon Ark

Joe fingered the fragment of paper he'd found months ago in his mother's belongings. He read it again for the umpteenth time.

And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth. Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch. And this is how thou shalt make it...

Why did it have to stop there? If this was a message from God, why leave it up to his imagination how to create this ark? Yet the inhabitants of Behyadel grew more violent, so surely this God would destroy them. Finding the fragment was certainly a warning from this God to save his family.

A tug on his pants pulled Joe from his thoughts. His son, Joshua, stared at him. He held up a short pole, pointed on one end, and dangling a flag. "I made it, Dad. For the ark. It goes on top." An emblem of a red balloon against a blue background hung limply from the pole.

Joe smiled, hoisted the six-year-old onto his lap, and received the flag. "Very nice and sturdy. I'll put it on tonight." Joe leaned the flag against the chair. "What did you learn in school today?"

A smile sprang to his face. "About wind before the covering. Daddy, is it true such a thing existed? How can you feel it if you can't see it?"

It did sound like a myth. The history books recorded such a thing before radiation filled the land and the covering protected them. The hand of God, some called it. Perhaps this God would destroy Behyadel by removing his hand and allowing the radiation in.

"Daddy, will we find wind with the ark?"

Joe shrugged. "According to your mom we will."

"I heard that," Mary said from the kitchen.

Joshua giggled.

Joe tousled his son's hair. "Maybe we'll find out tomorrow."

Joshua grinned. "Are we leaving tomorrow?"

"Just as soon as you eat your dinner and get a good night's sleep."

Joshua leaped from his dad's lap. "I'm eating now, then." He dashed into the kitchen to engage his mother.

Joe glanced out the window at the ark sitting in the lot next door. He'd made it of wood, though hard to find. Nothing called gopher wood, but he hoped what they had was sufficient. Sealed in pitch. Attached to the hull lay a deflated balloon. Joshua's idea.

"Make it fly like a balloon," he'd said.

Made sense. If God released radiation under the cover, they'd need a means to fly over it. Research provided concepts for a giant balloon filled with hydrogen that would raise it into the air. They could live in it until the radiation left. He hoped.

Tomorrow they'd lift off. Joe rose from his seat and grabbed Joshua's flag. "Mary, I'm going to start the balloon to filling. It'll take all night."

"Okay, honey. Don't stay gone too long or your supper will grow cold."

"Will do." He opened the door and left the house.

------------------

The rust-red balloon towered over the surrounding houses. Ropes held the balloon to a rectangular, windowless, wooden house. The ends of the balloon hovered over the houses on either end.

Joe scanned down to see neighbors already gathered around it. He'd told them he was building a house. The huge balloon gave away that this was perhaps more than a house.

Joshua yanked on his dad's pants. "I don't see the flag."

"You can't see the top from here. The balloon is too big, but it is up there. I assure you."

Joshua nodded. "I'm ready."

Joe glanced at Mary. "What about you?"

She swallowed. "You moved the last of the supplies in last night, right?"

Joe winked at her. "Including your makeup."

She smiled, but immediately grew serious. "Are you sure? About..." She nodded her head toward the balloon.

Joe rubbed his forehead. Of course he had his doubts. Could he had interpreted the fragment wrong? Maybe it was mere chance he'd come across it, and not a message from God. But he couldn't back down now.

"Mary, I feel strongly this is God's will. But if nothing happens to destroy the world while we're up there, it will simply be an unusual vacation and we'll be back home in a few days."

She bowed her head and nodded.

Joe rubbed her back. "It'll be fun."

She straightened up and let out a deep breath. "I'm sure it will be. Let's go." She headed across the street to the towering balloon.

Joshua skipped behind her and bounced ahead.

Joe smiled while lifting the two suitcases of clothing they'd packed and followed behind them.

Henry, a balding man with a gut to match saw Joe coming. "Neighbor! Seems you added a new set of floors to your house last night."

Joe smiled weakly. "I suppose you could say that."

Henry pointed at one end of it. "That part is sort of hanging over my house. We're you planning on spying on me or can you cut that part off?"

"Well, Henry, I'll do you one better than that. I'll remove it within the hour."

Henry suppressed a laugh. "Whata you going to do? Fly the whole thing out of here?

Joe moved past him and headed toward their new home. "Something like that." Joe glanced back. Henry stared at him as if saying, "What did you say?" No doubt they would create quite the news in the community.

"Joe Lumbar?"

Joe turned. A police officer approached him. "Yes, I'm Joe."

He pointed at the balloon. "You know this violates at least six city ordinances. We're going to have to ask you to tear it down."

Joe sucked in a breathe. "Yes, officer. I'll get right on it."

"Why are you taking personal items into it?"

"I've got to get my wife and kid out first."

The officer glanced at the creation. "Okay, but I'd better not return and find you living here."

Joe smiled. "You won't even know we've been here."

The officer signed a paper, ripped it off and handed it to Joe. "Just in case, here's your warning. Next one will be a citation if I don't see progress." He stuffed it in Joe's hand. "Good day, sir." Then he spun on his heel and headed down the street.

Joe laughed and stuffed it in his pocket. He gazed into the sky. The same waves of light rolled over the sky as it always had. Occasionally a small dark spot sliced through them. Then Joe saw a rather large dark spot, bigger than any he'd seen before. It worked its way across the sky.

Joe breathed deep. That was surely a sign if anything was. Time to launch. The cover might fail at any time and flood them with radiation. He stepped inside the door, placed the suitcases on the floor, and turned to close the door.

The neighbors continued to gawk at his house. He resisted an urge to give a speech. Instead, he waved goodbye and shut the door. He hoped for their sake that he was wrong about the coming destruction.

He carted the suitcases into their bedroom. Then he waved Joshua over. "Come with me to the control room." Joe headed up a spiral staircase. Joshua followed close behind.

Mary scurried behind them. "I'm not staying down here alone when you launch this thing."

Joe entered the upper loft he'd labeled the control room. The upper third story of the house, being half the floor space of the other two stories, it rested on top like small box stacked on a larger one. This room contained the only room in the house with windows, to minimize any radiation exposure—he hoped.

The front window displayed the nose of the balloon stretching out over his neighbor's house. In front of the window rested a wheel-less bicycle bolted to the floor. Two levers, one on each side of the bike, awaited his commands. They adjusted the rotation of the two propellers to forward or reverse, to turn or move one direction. To the right of the bike, against the wall, rested two more levers. One to release the tie-downs to take off. The other to expel hydrogen from the balloon for landing.

Mary sat in a chair against the back wall. Joe climbed on the bike and placed his feet on the pedals. "Joshua, would you like to launch us?"

A smile beamed over his face. "Really? I can do that?"

Joe pointed. "Just pull down on the far, right lever."

Joshua dashed to the lever, placed his hands firmly around it, then paused. He looked back, a grin indicating his excitement. "Ready?"

Joe gave him a thumbs up. Mary said, "Let's get this over with."

Joshua returned his attention to the lever. "Here we go!" He yanked on the lever. It barely grunted an inch. Joshua pulled harder. The lever resisted, but slowly gave way and landed with a loud thud against the stop.

The floor under them lurched upwards. Boards creaked in protest. Joshua fell against the wood floor with a grunt. Screams echoed from outside. The horizon bobbed up and down. Joe feared the house might fall apart. But it didn't. The bobbing slowed to a shallow wobble. The horizon sank beneath the edge of the house.

Joshua lifted himself up and then stared out the window. "We did it, Dad! We're flying."

Mary wobbled from her chair to stand by Joshua. "You have a design flaw. You can't see the ground. How are you going to land?"

Joe pointed at a door. "That leads onto the roof. There is a line one can hook to so you can lean over the side and direct the driver."

"Me!" She swung to face Joe. "You expect me to lead over the edge?"

"It's perfectly safe."

She stared at the ceiling and huffed. "Ever hear of mirrors?"

Joe smiled sheepishly. "Ah. Good idea wife."

She headed for the stairs. "Guess I'd better see what's left of the house, straighten up, and fix lunch. Then I'll do some exercise to be ready to repel down the side of our flying home." She stomped down the steps, mumbling.

Joe hopped off the bike and pulled out from the left, front wall a crank handle. He turned it clockwise. Mirrors rose from the front and both sides. The front mirror displayed a wider view. Already the houses below had shrunk to postage-stamp size.

Joshua stared at the front mirror. "When you telling Mom about this."

Joe grinned. "After I see if she will really lean over the side."

Joshua shook his head. "You're going to get it something awful."

------------------

The three sat around the dinning room table, holding hands. Joe had moved the table over after dinner the night before. He wanted something familiar to ground themselves in.

Joe bowed his head. "Lord, we than you for your gifts of food and protection. May your love accompany us on our journey and your mercy be with them below. Amen."

Joshua grabbed a sandwich. "How high up are we, Dad?"

"Can't say for sure. Last I looked, I couldn't make out specific houses anymore."

Mary smirked. "Leaned over the edge yourself, did you?"

Joe smiled. "Yeah. At least we should be safe from the radiation up here." He hoped.

"And from all our neighbors as well."

Joe grinned. "I would have liked to have seen the looks on their faces when our house took off."

"It's probably all over town by now. Maybe on Behyadel news."

Joshua swallowed his bite. "Dad, will we feel the wind now?"

Joe held out his hand. "Listen."

All three remained motionless. An occasional creak of the house broke the silence."

"I don't hear anything." Joshua stared at his father.

"Exactly. I'm told you can hear the wind if it is going fast enough."

A loud crash echoed through the house. All the furniture leaped upward and bounced back down, throwing sandwiches into the air and all three onto the floor. A loud screeching sound flooded the room.

Joe crawled to the stairs as the floor rocked violently, and worked his way up them, holding onto the railing. By the time he entered the control room, the rocking had died off some. He wobbled to the crank and lowered the mirrors for a better view in front of them.

Mary and Joshua bounced into the room. They stared out the window. Past the nose of the balloon, a glass-like surface disappeared into the distance.

"What happened?" Mary asked.

Joe shook his head. "Not sure, but we've hit something."

"The cover." Joshua pointed at the surface above the balloon. "We've hit the top of the sky."

Joe waved his hand. "Listen."

Over the creaking of the house, the sound of cracking met their ears.

"Honey, what's that noise?"

Joe headed for the door. "I'll go find out."

"Be careful."

"I will."

Joshua ran to his father. "Can I come?"

"No!" they both said at the same time.

Joshua hung his head.

Joe knelt on one knee. "Look, son. It may be dangerous out there. Promise me if I don't come back, you'll look after your mother."

"Dad—"

"Joseph Naza!" Mary put her hands on her hips. "How dare you lay that on him. He's just a boy. You come back or I swear I'll kill you."

Joe nodded with a half-smile. "You're right. I will be back, but for now, we'll only risk one of us going." He hugged Joshua and Mary before heading to the door.

Being on the other side of the wall knowing many feet lay between him and the ground, did give him a sense of unease. He grabbed the rope and tied it around his waist. He tugged on the end of the rope around a post to ensure it was secure and checked the safety latch.

Joe scanned the sky. The shadows appeared much bigger now. Light waves rolled across the surface, but more cracking sounds shattered the quiet. He'd have to climb to the top of the balloon to see what they'd hit.

Joe grabbed the first rung of the rope ladder that led to the top of the balloon. He'd gone several rungs when he stopped. He rubbed his fingers together. Wetness? Why would the rope be wet? He examined the rope closely. A trickle of water ran down the rope. Drops cascaded off the ladder higher up at the curve of the balloon.

A surge of water swished over his hands. The water came from above and was growing by the second. More loud cracking sounds echoed across his ears. He turned to see cracks extending past the balloon. Whatever the covering was, it was breaking apart. Joshua's flag pole on top of the balloon must have punctured the cover. And water was on the other side. Not radiation.

Joe headed back down as fast as he dared. Sheets of water began to pour over his head. The flow increased quickly. A loud popping sound shattered the air. A large piece of thick glass bobbed over the balloon and fell toward the ground. Behind it a surge of water raced to catch it.

Water swept over Joe. He gasped for air as it pushed him onto the roof of the house. He struggled to get to his feet but the flow of water shoved him back down and scooted him closer to the edge of the house.

Mary and Joshua stared at him from the window.

Joe yelled, "Reel in the rope!"

Mary and Joshua glanced at each other. She shrugged her shoulders.

Two more loud pops. More water careened over the balloon. The wave of water shoved Joe toward the edge. Joe pointed at the rope reel and demonstrated the motions of cranking. Mary and Joshua stared back in horror.

The water flooded over him anew, and he slid along the roof. He could find nothing to grab as the edge grew closer. He couldn't stop it. He slipped over the edge as water shot over the roof and away from the wall.

His heart raced as he fell. Patches of land and cities dotted the land below. A stream of water fell toward his old home. His neighbors. The citizens of Behyadel. They would all drown because of his ark. As might himself. He'd doomed them all. Not the radiation.

He grimaced as the rope around his waist tightened and broke his fall. He swung under the house, then back toward the sheets of water flowing off the roof. Thankfully he'd not gone too far up the balloon, and the safety had engaged. Otherwise, he could be many feet below the house. As he gained his air back, he pulled himself up now that the water didn't hit him directly.

As he approached the bottom of the house, he spied the front door. He could swing to it. He positioned himself alongside the house and then began swinging on the rope. Each pass he drew closer until he grabbed the door knob. He pulled himself over and held onto the doorpost. He turned the knob. The door flung open.

Joe grabbed the inside door knob with his other hand. The door pushed him into the edge of the water streaming from the roof. Joe shoved his body weight toward the house. The door shifted toward the house. He let go of the outside door knob and snagged the inside of the doorpost. With a grunt, he shoved himself into the house.

Joe lay on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Several pops rang from above, and the whole house jumped upward and shook. No time to catch a breath. Their house was about to break through the covering. He pushed himself up, closed the front door, then trudged up the stairs as fast as his body allowed him.

The sight of Mary hugging Joshua, both crying, greeted him.

"Anyone call for a plumber?"

Mary and Joshua spun around.

"Dad!" He ran and hugged his father's legs.

Mary embraced him. "I thought you were gone."

"Hey, I promised I'd be back."

The house jerked upward again, sending them collapsing to the floor. Joe scanned the covering. Between the streams of water, the cracking cover was visible.

Joe pulled himself onto the bike. "You two had better sit in the chairs. They're bolted to the floor, so should keep you from rolling around on the floor."

Joshua landed in a seat. "What's happening?"

"If I'm not mistaken, we're about to break through the covering. Apparently there is water on the other side."

Shards of glass followed by heavier streams of water fell below them. The cracks in the distance let more liquid through, and chunks of covering fell, leaving holes for the invader to enter.

The house fell, then bobbed back up. Then fell again. The flow of water had grown strong enough to push the balloon down, but it kept pushing back up. Then, within thirty minutes, the house started to sink and not go back up. The balloon was deflating. No doubt shards of the covering had punctured it.

The speed of descent increased. They'd likely smash into the ground. He hadn't saved his family by building an ark. He'd condemned them and all of Behyadel with them. He must have misunderstood God big time.

The house slammed into something. Mary and Joshua screamed. Water flew away from the house, which bobbed back and forth. Endless horizon of water met Joe's eyes. The pitch. He'd followed what little instructions he'd had. The pitch was to keep the water out. The ark wasn't a balloon, it was a water vessel. Something the Behyadelsians had no need of.

The balloon listed to the right side of the ark, leaving a clear view of the sky. Giant sprouts of water poured into Behyadel. The water carried their house back toward the covering. Water flowing from the biggest hole, where the balloon had pierced it, pushed them away. The house floated around, pulled by eddies and pushed by streams of water.

The house bumped the covering, and scraped against it as the rising water forced them up to the top of the dome. As the house moved closer to the broken area of the covering, the water rose over the house. They would soon be submerged. Could the sealed house withstand it? And for how long? One way or another, they'd soon find out.

Joe's ears popped. A small stream of water entered around the door. "Joshua, in the closet is some pitch. Go get it, spread it around the door downstairs and this one up here.

"Yes, sir." He bolted down the stairs.

"That won't do much, will it? I mean, doesn't it have to set?" Mary asked.

"Yes, but it will give him something to do, and it might help."

Joshua soon appeared with a bucket in hand and a spatula. "It doesn't seem to be doing much."

Joe nodded. "Give it a try anyway."

Joshua knelt and started trying to spread the pitch between the door jam and the door. It did seem to slow the water flow some.

Joe pointed out the window. "We're clearing the covering." A hole approached among the fractured glass. "Joshua, get in your seat and hold on."

Joshua slammed the lid on the bucket down and returned to his seat. "Here we go!"

The front of the house pulled upwards over the edge of the glass. Joe held fast to the bike as the bucket of pitch slid to the back wall with a thud. The house jerked, then raced upwards. Five minutes passed, and his ears popped again. Water sloshed against the back wall, soaking Mary and Joshua's feet.

Light grew brighter. Joe's eyes began to hurt. Another surface raced toward them. Joe gripped the bike hard. "Hold on. Looks like we're about to hit another glass wall."

The light continued to increase in intensity. Joe squinted, not wanting to miss the final moments of his life. The new surface approached fast. Joe braced.

The new surface gave way without a fight. The front of the ark broke into fresh air, paused above the water as if standing on its rear, then splashed back down to float on a new surface.

All three sat in stunned silence. Both recovering from the shock of not dying and the shock of this new world. A solid blue sky held puffs of white floating lazily along. Why they didn't fall, Joe had no idea.

"Listen," Joshua said.

Joe listened. An irregular howling sound rang in his ears.

Joshua raced from his chair to the door. "Wind!"

"Wait!" both of them yelled.

Joshua flung the door open. An invisible force pushed his hair back and vibrated his collar.

When Joe reached the door, the wind caressed his wet face. All three stood in the open door. An endless sky. An endless body of water. An invisible force. What more could this new world surprise them with?

Mary held up a scrap of paper. "This makes more sense now."

Joe took it. Another fragment of his mother's. He read it.

The wind bloweth where it will, and thou hearest the voice thereof, but knowest not whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.

------------------

Recorded in old history books—which most Behyadelians of Joshua's time considered myths—is a story of possible nuclear war. A prototype dome, designed to filter radiation out but allow the transference of air and carbon dioxide, was constructed in Utah, USA in hopes of sheltering large numbers of people. Before testing could be completed, the feared war started. While the dome performed as expected, the tectonic plates shifted from the explosions, resulting in Utah once again being covered in water.

Though not designed to work under water, due to the shallow distance to the surface, the dome held, keeping the water out while filtering in breathable air. However, the unplanned pressure on the dome weakened it after several generations. Eventually it would have collapsed on its own, but Joseph's balloon ark, puncturing it with Joshua's flag pole, hastened its demise.

The future of humanity now rests in the small family of three, Joseph, Mary, and Joshua, surviving and prospering in this new world, and writing a new history of mankind.

Written from then on in the sacred text, God is recorded as saying, "I only promised not to cover the whole world in water again. I didn't say anything about radiation."