Sunday, August 25, 2019

JEEP the ripper

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.




By R. Peterson

In the early morning hours of August thirty-one, 1988, the Clabber City Police Department was called to the scene of a ghastly hit and run accident involving a parked Dodge behind White’s Bakery. After a day of meticulous investigation it was determined that the entire driver’s side of a white four-door Dynasty had been brutally gouged by what appeared to be a heavy metal pipe most likely attached to a rampaging truck in place of a bumper. The metal body had been cut so deeply and torn with such savage violence that both driver’s side doors lay some distance away under a pile of twisted chrome and broken glass. The car’s owner, Mary Ann Nicholls, a hairdresser who lived in a cheap apartment above the bakery, passed-out when I asked her to identify the vehicle. My partner, Tom Wesley, slapped her face, pulled her hair and twisted her ears.
“What happened?” Mary Ann mumbled when she came to. She sounded like she’d been dancing with a bottle of Quaaludes.
“I’m detective John Elmo,” I told her. “Is that your car scattered across the parking lot?”
“It was,” she bawled. “What kind of animal does something like this?”
“We don’t think it was an animal,” my partner said. “We believe your car was struck by another vehicle!”
“When was the last time you seen your car in a running condition?” I asked her.
“Last night when I drove it home from work,” she said.
“Do you know of any other vehicles that would want to harm your car?” Wesley asked.
“I don’t think so,” she stammered.
“Have you ever noticed any cars too close where you park at work?”
“Has your car ever been involved with a tow truck or perhaps a sleek convertible revving his engine at a stoplight?”
“Did a truck seem overly friendly … too short of a tow chain … perhaps taking the long way home?”
“I just moved here two weeks ago.” Mary Ann Nicholls gasped. “Suddenly I don’t know where I am.”
“You’re in Clabber City,” I told her. “You can claim your car’s remains after the automotive autopsy.”

-------2-------

Ed Turner turned off the oxygen and acetylene on his cutting torch and shook his head. What was left of the Dodge Dynasty lay in eight fifty-five gallon drums suspended in the air by a car hoist. “Whatever vehicle mutilated this baby knew what he was doing,” he said.
“You’re saying this wasn’t an accident?”
“I’d check the wrecking yards,” Ed said. “To tear the metal this deep it had to have been a four wheel drive … possibly a truck with chains. The suspect vehicle also has a working knowledge of auto body techniques. He knew how to make the kind of cuts that can’t be repaired. I’d look for a wrecker with a three-inch welded pipe bumper with a cracked windshield … and a smoker!”
“A smoker?”
“See the black film on what’s left of this fender?” Ed said. “That’s bad rings or advanced timing showing up in the exhaust. Your perp-vehicle didn’t just grind some gears and head for a garage or a car wash … he circled around very close a few times … no doubt backfiring like gas was still thirty-two cents a gallon … probably admiring his work!”
“You think we got a serial crasher?”
“I haven’t seen a hit and run this gory since that Desoto wagon went berserk on the Brooklyn Bridge back in 1952,” Ed said.

-------3-------
We checked several salvage yards but no one was talking. Just before our shift was over Wesley noticed a garage door closing on a Ford F150. I stopped to ask the owner why the big hurry. He told us we couldn’t go in his garage without a warrant. While I was trying to convince the man to cooperate, Wesley noticed a five gallon can of spilled lawnmower gasoline next to his boot. He got rid of the cigarette he was smoking … but by then the spill was too large.
We assisted the fire department and were able to determine, by sifting through the ashes, that there was no pipe welded to the front of the Ford. I told the owner it was his lucky day and merely cited him for having a loose screw on his license plate.

-------4-------

My phone woke me up at six the next morning. I made a note to unplug it. Another Dodge had been mutilated. This time a 1960 Dodge Matador body had been completely peeled off from the frame. The masher had had the audacity to notify the papers. Captain Wolfe handed me the note written on a dirty oil rag with a grease gun and left on the doorstep of the Clabber City Gazette. “You sure this is our wrecker?” I asked as I read the message.
Dear Boss,
My bumpers so nice … and big and sharp.  I going to gut your Dodges … like they was carp. Good Luck of ever catching me … without some spikes. More work for you … you dirty kikes!
Yours truly
Jeep the Ripper

Captain Wolfe dropped a bent door-handle on the table. “The note was wrapped around this,” he said tapping the tarnished chrome. “Forensics said it came from Mary Ann Nicholls’ Dynasty!”

-------5-------

                        The 1960 Matador’s frame, wheels, seats and drive-train hopped wildly in front of the Low-Rider Motel while a large group of Mexican Americans clapped and cheered. Annie Chapman’s live in boyfriend, Juan Hernández, had installed hydraulic lifts on the rare and unusual car and somehow during the attack they and the blasting radio had both become engaged. The car’s large-finned Rally-Yellow body lay wrapped around one of the huge reinforced concrete posts supporting a McDonald’s golden arches sign a half-block away.
Wesley drew his gun and pointed the barrel at the hamburger joint. “You think the Ripper might be in there eating?” he stammered.
I slapped the back of his head and told him to put the gun away. “Jeep the Ripper is probably at a transmission shop getting his oil changed,” I said. “Do you know how much torque it takes to peel one of these bananas?”
Juan stumbled out of the motel putting on his pants. “¿Que el infierno ha sido engañando con mi coche?” he yelled. Annie sat on a curb bawling while her boyfriend and several of his friends managed to shut the dancing car off.
            “Where were you when the attack occurred?” I asked her.
            “I was sleeping with my sister in the room four doors down,” she pointed. “Juan was throwing a party for one of his friends who just got a job at a car wash. I work days as a hairdresser and I couldn’t sleep with forty-three drunk and loud people in the room.”
            “At last our first clue,” I told Wesley. “A car wash!”
I stopped Juan and a group of his friends all carrying hack-saws and pry-bars as they swarmed toward the McDonalds. “Which one of you got the job at Mr. Sudsy?” I asked.
            “Yo soy con el trabajo.” A heavy-set man wearing a Diablos Rojos baseball cap stepped forward.
            “What did you call me?” Wesley reached for his gun but I stopped him.
            “We don’t want trouble,” I told him as I backed away.  Then I sent Wesley to call for backup.

-------6-------

I had a hard time convincing Captain Wolfe that we needed to do a stake out. Raoul Gomez had spent the day looking at hundreds of pictures of suspect Jeeps that might have gone through his car wash. “Hay solamente dos clases de coches!" The car wash worker had thrown his arms in the air and glared at me. “Chevys... y los coches que no son Chevys!”
I tuned the precinct radio to a Spanish station and cranked up the volume. I thought maybe some familiar music would jar Raul’s memory. All of the Mexican American officers were dancing and half the Anglos.
Captain Wolfe finally agreed. “Get the hell out of here!” he yelled from his upstairs office.

-------7------

            We were parked beside a car wash in a bright red Dodge Matador that cost the precinct a thousand bucks a night to lease. Used car lots that offered specials on well-maintained Dodges were on both sides of our stake out. I took the first watch, slowly sipping a two-quart Thermos filled with stand-your-spoon-up-in-it black coffee while my partner slept.
            After 11 PM traffic slowed and I amused myself by showing my revolver to passing cars and watching them duck as I rolled down my window. Finally at 2 AM I woke Wesley up and offered him the rest of the coffee. “Don’t need it,” he laughed as he poured the Thermos out the window.
-------

            I banged my head against the side window as I woke up. We were being towed at high speed! I had to shake Wesley several times. “How long were you asleep?” I demanded.
            “I just closed my eyes for a few seconds,” he said.
I tried to see what kind of vehicle was towing us, but the windshield was coated with a greasy substance that smeared under the wipers. We were swinging wide with every turn and I felt the car snap off several warning signs. It wasn’t until we passed under a lighted billboard for a mortuary that I could tell what the oily coating was. Our abductor had written in reverse on the outside of all the windows with his grease gun so that it could be read from the inside.




Dear Boss,
Time is short and trouble kind … don’t let it pass you by. Before too long you’ll wake to find … you don’t need wings to fly!
Yours truly
Jeep the Ripper

We used up almost a whole gallon of windshield wiper fluid before we could see what was towing us. The tail lights and the rear-mounted spare tire of a Jeep CJ were unmistakable.
Thank God the keys were still in the ignition. The car started but we had no brakes and no power. Wesley pointed to a three foot section of brake line and the car’s drive line lying across the back seat. I used my portable CB radio to call dispatcher Molly Hubbard as Wesley stuck his head out the window trying to determine where we were. Her voice broke over the tiny speaker. She was a hard as nails veteran with more than thirty years under her service belt.
            “Molly this is Detective Elmo,” I blurted. “Jeep the Ripper has a chain on us and is towing us at high speed up …”
“Donkuff Road!” Wesley yelled.
            “Help! Help! Jeep the Ripper has me!” Molly mocked. “This is the fourteenth crank call I’ve had tonight Buster! You call again and I’ll put a trace on your phone!” She hung up. When I tried to call back the line was busy.

Jeep the Ripper was playing crack the whip and we were the snap at the end. I fought the steering wheel to keep us from flying off into a steep ravine on every outside turn. “Where are we?” I screamed to my partner. I noticed the quick release at the Jeep end of the tow chain. The bastard could unhook us whenever he wanted.
            “About a half mile from Devil’s Canyon,” he replied.
We began to pick up speed. The speedometer pointer went beyond 120 MPH and was buried somewhere in the dashboard.
            “One quarter mile!” Wesley yelled.
Devil’s Canyon was a sheer drop of more than one thousand feet into a gorge filled with exposed granite boulders and rampaging white water. It had a turnout for tourists and was a favorite exit point for Base Jumpers that wanted to see their lives flash before them at high speed.
            “One hundred yards!” Wesley screamed.
I knew there was only time for one shot as I pulled my service revolver and aimed out the side window. My hands were shaking but I willed them to be still. My bullet severed the tow cable a split second before someone in the Jeep activated the quick release.
We both screamed as the car burst through a guard rail and sailed far out over the canyon’s edge.

TO BE CONTINUED …




Sunday, August 18, 2019

TIME part 4

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.






By R. Peterson

The building in front of them was suddenly blasted to pieces. Stone and brick debris choked the air like the confetti of Armageddon. John held onto Leisha’s arm as they ran toward the hospital where Alvin Sullinger was supposed to be recovering. The fact that she was a weighted hologram made no difference to John. He was falling in love with her, and after all, didn’t many scientists believe that the entire universe, and everything in it, was nothing more than one vast illusion?
Three more F18 fighters streaked in a low formation over the floating city and John looked around wildly as they dodged a pile of smashed and overturned rail cars. “I would have never have believed that the United States Government would bomb a scientific community on their own soil even if it’s existence is in dispute!”
“I don’t think it’s the U.S. military that’s attacking,” Leisha said. “The building that controls the Anti-velocity shield that protects the city was destroyed first and that had to have sabotaged from the inside.
“Then what are they doing here?” Another group of military aircraft flew overhead this time it was helicopters.
“Alvin’s not sure but he thinks it might be for our protection.”
“Alvin’s not sure?” John was stunned. “The last I heard Alvin was comatose!”
“He’s awake now and he is communicating with me,” Leisha said. “The danger isn’t over … we have to hurry!”

-------2-------

The hospital complex where Alvin was recovering was severely damaged but the section he was staying in had miraculously survived what looked like several explosions. John was alarmed to see a man with body armor and an HK 416 assault rifle standing next to Alvin’s bed.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Alvin whispered. John noticed a gash on his left cheek, but other than that, the world’s greatest scientific genius appeared to be unharmed. “Kim Jones is my bodyguard and one of my oldest friends. We met when I was doing undergraduate research at M.I.T. and he was working as a building contractor in the area. In fact some of my greatest discoveries have occurred while we were having our morning coffee before work.”
“Sorry if I don’t shake your hand,” Jones said looking in all directions. He appeared to be listening to a headset. “There might be more of those religious extremists in the building!”
“Religious?”
“Yes,” Alvin said. “While I went out of my way to make sure religion had a place in our scientific community I never dreamed they would turn into my enemies.”
“It looks to me like you’ve been one of their biggest supporters,” John gasped. “Why turn on you?”
“Unfortunately the dark energy technology that solves the riddle of where do we go when we die has many narrow minded religious leaders up in arms,” Alvin sighed.
“We’ll have backup security here in two minutes,” Jones said.
Suddenly a man stepped from the shadows. John was alarmed to see the man was dressed like a priest. In his right hand he held a hand grenade and the pin appeared to be missing. “Don’t be a fool!” the priest said when Jones pointed the assault rifle at him. “There is no three second delay! When my fingers release the lever we all get to meet our makers.”
            “Father O’Bannon!” Alvin gasped. “What are you doing?”
            “Saving the world for Christ!” O’Bannon said. “I was dismayed when you began work on a scientific project that proves there is no heaven and no hell and I was astonished to find that so many others in this complex think it might be feasible. I cannot allow you to destroy faith that took two thousand years to build!”
            “It was you that infected me with the specialized form of Anthrax!”
            “I have no desire to harm innocents,” O’Bannon said. “With you out of the way this anti-Christ technology would have ground to a halt. It was unfortunate that your doctors found an antidote so quickly. We had to resort to other measures.”
            “We?”
            “It took more than a year to glean those special few from each religion who are willing to protect their faith with their lives even if that enemy turns out to be science,” O’Bannon said. “It was our group that planted the bombs and took down the anti-velocity shield. It was unfortunate that the US Government didn’t respond with an appropriate attack.”
            “You have it all wrong!” Alvin gasped. “Science and religion go hand in hand for those with open minds. The Big Bang Theory was described in the book of Genesis thousands of years before, believe it or not, a Belgian priest named Georges Lemaître first suggested that the universe began from a single primordial atom.”
O’Bannon looked stunned for a moment. The sound of men running up the partially destroyed stairs broke him from his paralysis. He released his fingers from the grenade just as Kim Jones flung himself forward. Jones covered the bomb with his body an instant before it detonated.

-------3-------

            The body armor Jones was wearing protected the others in the hospital room from the horrific explosion but he and O’Bannon were both killed instantly. In the hours afterward Alvin was beyond grief. “How can people who profess a belief in Christ resort to such violence to honor his name?”
            “Actions speak louder than words,” Leisha said. “When you love other people your whole world becomes a church.”
In the afternoon Alvin received a telephone call from the President of the US. “I’m glad that your facility is now secure and that you are unharmed,” he said. “I’ve ordered the military to keep guarding your complex until your shields are reactivated.”
            “Thank you,” Alvin said. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
            “I understand you can turn sand into gold,” the President quipped. “We could use about twenty tons to balance the budget!”
            “That wouldn’t be fair to your opponents in congress,” Alvin told him.
            “You’re probably right,” the President said. “I hope in the future we can open lines of communication between our common interests and perhaps lessen the adversaries that we’ve become.”
Alvin was still gloomy after talking to the president even though the crisis appeared to be over. “I’m not going to miss him,” he said, pointing outside where an ambulance was taking Kim Jones’ remains to a morgue and then later for burial in his home town of Cloverdale Montana.
            “I thought he was one of your oldest friends and most trusted colleagues!” John was stunned.
            “He was …. and is,” Alvin said. “We both believed that death does not exist … now I’m going to prove it.”


-------4-------

            Three days later John Masters stood with Alvin Sullinger and Leisha as Kim Jones’ remains were lowered into a grave inside Black Rose Cemetery. “Why did your friend want to be buried in this small town in the middle of nowhere,” John asked.
                “He didn’t,” Alvin said. “It was my idea to have him interred in Cloverdale. This was my hometown and it seems only fitting that this should be the place where my best friend’s last body resides.”
            “His last body?”
            “Yes,” Alvin said. “Tim believed as I do that death does not exist. All things in this world, including life, are governed by fundamental laws and concepts. There is no beginning and end in eternity so conception and death have to be the same thing.”
            “It’s too bad Jones died before you could prove your theory,” John said. “You might have been able to locate his new life.”
            “Oh it’s not too late,” Alvin said. “The explosions that disrupted Gravitron City did not effect the sattelites we have orbiting the Earth. Although we cannot as yet get shadow red readings of all life forms on Earth this section of the Northwest United States was one of our first priorties. If the computers show a match for the exact same time as Kim’s dea and the conception of a new life … we’ll know where he went.”
            “But Jones would be a newborn. He wouldn’t be the same person.”
            “We have long believed that a person’s subconscious brain remembers everything from former lives,” Alvin said. “It is only the forebrain that starts anew at each birth. This explains how people seemingly get smarter each new generation and is fundamental to the concepts of evolution.”
            “You think you can restore,” Kim’s former memories?
            “Not all of them,” Alvin said. “One past life should be enough. By the time the baby that was conceived when Kim died is two or three years old we will have the technology to restore his mind to who he was.”
            “Then what are you waiting for?”
            “An exact match for the time Kim died and the conception of a new life,” Alvin said. “But the chances are slim. We only have the capabilities to scan a small fraction of new life and death on this world still … I think there might be a chance.”

-------5-------

            It was in a busy cafe in Cloverdale called Spare-A-Dime that Alvin received his long awaited phone call. He was so startled that he knocked a sugar canister off from the table and spilled his coffee. The waitress had cleaned up his spill and brought a fresh cup before Alvin could catch his breath. “Good news?”
            “That remains to be seen Alvin whispered. “Our computers show that Kim Jones’ life ended at exactly at 4:19. 673856910733412 on Thursday September 11th.  At that exact moment in time 4:19. 673856910733412  a new life was conceived in the Bronx in New York City.”
            “That’s fantastic!” John leaped from his seat. “You’ve just proven that death does not exist!”
A table filled with truck drivers turned and stared. After a moment they turned back laughing. “If I had a head that size I’d want to die,” one said.
            “We don’t know what kind of family Kim was born into,” Alvin said. “We might not be able to establish contact with him. “Most mothers would never allow their babies to be subjected to scientific experiments trying to bring back suppressed memories from former lives.”
            “I’d like to check this out for you,” John said. “New York City is my home town.”
            “Take Leisha with you,” Alvin suggested. “Whatever she learns I’ll know.”

-------6-------

            Nine months later, John and Leisha sat in a car outside the Department of Social Services for the South Bronx in New York City. Sarah Carson Jones was a sixteen year old unwed mother and as it turned out a distant relative of the late Kim Jones. Alvin Sullinger had followed a rare form of intuition when he chose the New York City area to scan for new life and it paid off. According to Alvin, life progresses in a natural order following family trees and parental lineage. If there is no death … there can be no life.
Leisha had been working in the social service office when Sarah filled out a form for giving her unborn child up for adoption. Under the space marked for concerns, she had written that she hoped her newborn baby’s adoptive parents would give him a good education and be loving and kind. John and Leisha looked at each other and smiled. They were about to make Sarah’s wishes come true.

THE END ?
           





Sunday, August 11, 2019

TIME part 3

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.




By R. Peterson

          The next day, Leisha took John on a tour of Gravitron City. The tree-lined streets were as clean as hospital corridors and a heavy traffic of bubble-shaped electric-vehicles moved effortlessly on air-cushioned rails. Leisha pressed a button mounted on a streetlamp post, and seconds later an empty car left a busy stream and pulled next to the curb. A gull-wing door opened next to the sidewalk and when Leisha sat down, the seat rotated to the left allowing a space for John.
            Everything was automated. Leisha activated a drop down screen, with a Sikh turban wrapped around the top and selected tour as a destination option. “We will begin our tour as soon as you fasten your seatbelts,” a heavily accented mid-eastern voice said. John noticed the seat conforming to his body as Leisha turned on the radio. Seconds later he felt like a fetus floating in embryonic fluid.  Bachman Turner Overdrive boomed from the speakers. “Wow!” he stammered.
            “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” Leisha sang in perfect pitch.
            Like many of the great metropolitan centers of the world, Gravitron City was built on the banks of a river. John didn’t waste a lot of time wondering where a river came from in a city floating a mile in the sky! When you can reverse gravity and turn sand into gold … the impossible is expected.

-------2-------

            There were as many people walking shaded pathways along both sides of the smooth highways as there were vehicles in the center. John noticed that most of their feet were inches off the ground. “Do many people walk to work?” he asked.
            “It’s mostly for recreation,” Leisha said. “Work days are very busy and time is always critical. Walking in Gravitron City with lighter than air footwear is quite enjoyable.”
            “What’s our first stop?”
            “The museum of the Black Sisters,” Leisha told him. “Where all of this began.”
            “Black Sisters?”
“The first four elements of dark matter were named by Alvin after the sixties singing group the Marvelettes,” Leisha said, “thus the entire DM periodic table is sometimes referred to as the Black Sisters.”
The car they were riding in swept past a large Catholic church just across the street from an equally large Muslim mosque. The walkways in front of each appeared to be empty. “This is amazing,” John gasped. “I didn’t think an entire city devoted to science would embrace something as outdated as religion!”
            “There are actually twenty three different denominations represented in Gravitron City,” Leisha said. “Alvin never believed religion and science to be at odds,” she said. “Not when the entire existence of the universe hinges on belief and perception.”
            “I’ve never thought of that before,” John said. “But it makes sense in a way.”
            “Alvin was always at odds with Stephen Hawking and his work with gravitational singularity.” Alisha told him.  He might have been much more than brilliant, Alvin always said, had his eyes not been closed to the reality of creation.
            “Hawking was an atheist?”
            “Yes, and Alvin said it poisoned his research.”
            “That’s too bad, but understandable. How could someone in his quadriplegic condition believe in God?”
They were just passing the Life Science Center and John noticed a large group of protesters gathered outside the elegant building marching and carrying signs. “What’s going on here?”
            “This is the reason the church and mosque were empty,” Leisha said. “Many here with religious convictions believe that Alvin’s research into the recycling of life will destroy their beliefs. Others believe their religion will destroy their science.”
John glanced at a few of the signs. Jesus Lives! Alvin must die! One sign read. Just then a fight broke out and several police cars moved in front of their vehicle. “How can Alvin allow things like this to go on?”
            “In order for this to be a small part of the world it must reflect the world,” Leisha said. “Alvin believes in balance above all else.”
            One protester crashed his sign into another person’s head. John saw blood fly. “He has sure created a slice of the pie.” John said.

-------3-------

The Museum of Black Sisters looked exactly like a huge black swirling hole in the ground surrounded by gardens and walkways. The entire structure took up at least twelve city blocks. “Don’t let the entrance fool you,” Leisha said, “it’s perfectly safe.”
Even though John watched several others disappear into the swirling vortex he was still apprehensive until Leisha took him by the hand. “It’s like splashing your face with cold water on a hot day,” she said. “You’ll like it!”
Leisha was right once they stepped inside John felt cool and refreshed. The museum wasn’t at all what he expected. “Alvin is always very big on participation,” Leisha said. “He doesn’t want to just show you dark matter … he wants to take you inside it.”
The room was dark and cavernous. Beams of light originating from a large glowing sphere high above their heads disappeared into tiny holes opening and closing, seemingly at random, surrounding the globe.
            “The museum will not last much longer than a couple more weeks,” Leisha said, “and then it will have to be destroyed.”
            “Destroyed?” John couldn’t believe it.
            “When Alvin first isolated a particle of dark matter this entire complex was on one city lot. Dark matter does not occupy space … it creates it. The museum grows larger by the hour. If it’s allowed to continue Gravitron City would take up half of Nevada.”
John and Alisha walked around the perimeter of the display. Smaller models of the dark matter elements were spaced at regular intervals. One display had you press down on a large rubber beach-ball floating about three feet off the ground. Instead of adding your weight to the object and having it go down the ball lifted you into the air. “The Dark Sister element Delila is what creates the anti-gravity effect,” Leisha said. “The more gravity exerted against it the stronger it becomes.”
            “Does that create problems?”
            “Gravitron City was originally only a couple of hundred feet off the ground,” Leisha said, “as the city expanded … it rose higher in the air.”

-------4-------

            After visiting several more scientific centers in the city and having lunch on a floating barge in the river, Leisha received a text that Alvin was out of the controlled coma and was being successfully treated.  “This is great news,” Leisha said. “I’m sure Alvin will want to show you some of his favorite projects himself.”
They were nearing the hospital where Alvin was recovering when an explosion brought all the cars to a standstill. The air was filled with flying debris all going in the same direction. An inverted reddish-brown mushroom cloud appeared in the sky over the city. “Was that a nuclear explosion?”
            “A dark energy dump,” Leisha said. “It disrupts the city’s power supply for a few seconds … but it should come back on!”
She was right. Within seconds the car re-energized. When it did Leisha opened the doors and climbed out … the highways were jammed and she started running. John followed her.
            “What’s going on?”
            “The power to the city comes back on instantly but the negative velocity shield that protects Gravitron City from the outside takes several hours to reconfigure!” The walkways were overflowing with pedestrians. Most were running. Leisha pushed several people out of the way as they ran toward the hospital.
            “If Alvin is alive, do you think he’ll know what to do?”
Three F18 fighter jets broke the sound barrier as they flew low over the city. A secondary boom knocked them both to the ground. Leisha covered John with her body. A vortex of shattered glass, broken brick and melted pavement spread outward in all directions.
            “I hope so,” Leisha whispered. Blood streamed down her near flawless face. John fished out a handkerchief for the blood, and then with a sickening horror realized that the blast had torn off her left arm. Despite this, she managed to whisper, “We are under attack!”

TO BE CONTINUED …






Sunday, August 4, 2019

TIME part 2

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.





By R. Peterson

The world’s most brilliant scientist and inventor, Alvin Sullinger was showing John Masters around the time expanding level inside Gravitron City when he collapsed on the floor. Masters was too engrossed in the spectacular sights of the dark universe to catch him. “Are you okay?” The reporter for Time Magazine started to lift the frail body from the strangely spongy floor but it felt like a child’s doll clumsily put together with glue and matchsticks. “I need a drink,” Alvin gasped.
John looked around the vast cavern of darkness and felt helpless. He didn’t even know how he’d gotten into this micro dimension let alone how to summon help or acquire something as simple as a glass of water. When he turned back, Alvin was drinking from a glass half filled with ice.
“How did you do that?”
“Most people don’t realize,” Alvin said with a grin, “that we always get what we wish for. I just sped things up a little.”
A few seconds later John found himself and Alvin transported into a gleaming medical facility. A nurse was helping a semi-conscious Alvin onto an examination table. “Is he going to be okay?”
The nurse smiled. He recognized her as the woman who had met him with the euphoric towel at the pool. “I don’t think Alvin has ever been okay … but he’ll live … for a while.”

-------2-------

A team of doctors were looking over Alvin, so John and the nurse stepped into a hallway. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” John said.
She smiled again. It was her best quality. “What makes you think I have a name?”
            “Most people do.”
            “What makes you think I’m a people?”
For the first time John seemed unsure of himself. Since arriving at the magical city floating one mile above the Nevada desert almost everything had felt like dream. Her eyes were a deep almost neon blue. “Are you?”
            “No,” she said. “I’m simply a weighted hologram designed to be the perfect helpmate.”
John looked at her sure that she must be joking then decided that she wasn’t. She was too perfect to be real. “Weighted?”
            “The entire universe, when broken down to subatomic particle levels, loses the properties of matter and becomes nothing more than an elaborate hologram distorted and shaped by the fibers of space time.” She laughed this time, put her hands on John’s chest and pushed him back.  “I’ve been weighted by dark energy to permit physical interactions.”
            “Are you always so flirtatious with your guests?” John felt a tingling sensation course through his body at her touch.
“Only when I want to be.”
John suddenly thought he was being made a fool of. He imagined some geek behind a computer screen laughing as he directed the action. “And pay no attention to the man behind the curtain …. Right?”
“I do what I’m told because it’s my job the same as you,” she said, “but my choices belong to me.”
John sensed hurt feelings and thought of the demanding editors at Time Magazine often referred to by new employees as slave drivers. “Then you’re ahead of most of us.”
Three doctors came into the hallway. John couldn’t tell by their expressions whether the prognosis was good or bad. “Alvin is awake now,” one said. “We still have many tests to run. Would you like to see him?”

-------3-------

Alvin was sitting up in bed, but his oversized head still looked like it needed support. “I’m sorry about that,” Alvin whispered. “I must have caught one of the rare and deadly bugs that have been imported into our city. Thank God we had an antidote.”
John gasped. “I hope it wasn’t me,’ he said. “I haven’t felt ill for years but I never considered that I might be a carrier.”
            “It wasn’t you,” Alvin said. “When we did the block of matter transfer from your swimming pool to ours it may have seemed to you instantaneous but in reality you were checked for several hours by our doctors and security personnel to make sure you were carrying no espionage items or harmful biological attachments.”
            “But you said deadly bugs have been imported into Gravitron City?”
            “There are more than thirty-six thousand persons working in this floating complex,” Alvin said. “We’ve known for months that a small percentage of them are spies working for the United States Government. The fact that they have now found a way to import biological weapons is something new that we’ll have to deal with.”
            “Why would they want to see you dead?”
            “There is an old saying in the CIA,” Alvin said. “If you can’t control it … then kill it. The government has been trying to bring me and my technology under control for years now … it looks like they’ve decided to implement the second part.”
            “Do the doctors know what kind of bug you’ve picked up?”
            “They’re not sure at the moment.” Alvin coughed. “They think it might be a contamination in the medicines I take for Hydrocephalus.”
            “Is there anything I can get for you?”
            “Why don’t you have Leisha show you where the dining facilities are,” Alvin said. “I think I’ll try to get a little sleep before the doctors come back.”

-------4-------

            “Leisha?” John smirked as the girl led him toward a transporter.
            “Do you like that name?”
            “It was my mother’s name … Leisha Johnson Masters. She and my father were married for twenty-six years … but how did you know?”
            “I didn’t. This is the first time I’ve ever been called that.”
John knew without a doubt she was telling the truth. “Why Leisha?”
            “I’m sure Alvin has his reasons,” Leisha said. “Maybe he wants us to interact on a more human level.”

-------5-------

            The eating facilities were enormous and Leisha explained that this was only one of hundreds of restaurants inside the city. With walls and ceiling made of clear glass, every table had a spectacular view of the moon-lighted desert at night. Music played softly in the background. John didn’t recognize any of the songs but the feeling was growing euphoria. “How expensive is this place?” John gulped when a waiter wearing a three thousand dollar Ralph Lauren tuxedo brought their menus and finally vanished with a puzzled look after asking “Quel sera votre plaisir?”
            Leisha giggled. “If you have to ask … you can’t afford it.”
John noticed there were no prices attached to the Table d'hôte suggestions.  Everything looked and sounded fabulous. “Do they accept Visa?” He was already reaching for his wallet.
Leisha slapped his hand. “Didn’t Alvin tell you that people here can make gold or uranium out of sand?”
            “He did mention that.” John shook his head sheepishly.
            “People work here because they enjoy what they’re doing,” Leisha told him. “Instead of leaving a tip, sincerely compliment the waiter … honest praise is something money can’t buy.”
John was entranced by her flawless skin. Her touch was stimulating and intoxicating. He felt like he’d just fallen out of an airplane or been shot out of a cannon … he was flying.
John smiled when the waiter appeared. “I’m sorry but I’m new here,” he confessed. “And I don’t speak a word of French. Everything looks wonderful. Why don’t you just bring us what you think we’d like.”
The waiter visibly beamed and spoke English for the first time. “I will make this a night you will always remember,” he said.

-------6-------

            They found out the waiter’s name was Carl Landon and he had a wife and two children. “Gravitron City pays all my expenses and they also put money into a trust fund for when I decide to leave. The same goes for my wife Judy who teaches second grade English.” He delighted in surprising them with exotic appetizers designed to heighten the senses, rare wines said to loosen tongues and clothing, and to leave them in breathless wonder as to what was coming next.
            “Feel like going for a walk?” Leisha suggested.
John was expecting a walk through the gleaming city and was surprised when they appeared on the desert floor. “Isn’t this dangerous to be outside?”
            “The anti-velocity force field extends outward for fifty miles in all directions,” Leisha said. “We have no fear of humans here.”
            “What are you afraid of?” John asked her. He was aware of the beating of her heart as she put her arm through his.
            “There is no shortage of dangerous creatures in the desert at night,” she told him. “Wolves and coyotes hunt in packs and some of the most dangerous snakes are nocturnal. Bats and buzzards and bumble bees … sucking sand and poison trees! But the most frightening thing about a night like this …” She gestured toward the full moon. “Is to be taken captive by love. No one ever escapes … and the pain of rejection can be horrendous.”
To escape the many varieties of cactus that carpeted the sand they put on special anti-gravity shoes that allowed them to walk in the air several feet off the ground. John remembered the towel when he came out of the pool water and these foot coverings did the same thing for his feet. “Did you pick out the color? He pointed to the ruby red slippers glistening in the moonlight.
            “These were my sister’s!” Leisha cackled like a witch escaped from Oz.
When Leisha began to dance and to laugh … John became her willing shadow.
Several pairs of eyes watched them from the shadows.
John was now sure that he was in a dream but he didn’t care. They came to a small pool of water surrounded by trees. A thousand stars were reflected in the dark clear water. “Imagine a place like this surrounded by miles of sand and cactus!”
            “I just did,” Leisha said. “Do you like it?”
And then he kissed her.

-------7-------

“It’s much worse than we thought,” One of the doctors told John and Leisha the next morning. “Alvin Sullinger has contracted an engineered form of Anthrax. He is now in a medically induced coma.”
            “But you can cure him?”
            “If anyone can find a cure, the medical professionals in this facility will be able to,” the doctor assured them.
            “I’m sorry,” Leisha said. “You’re visit here has been much less than you expected.”
            “This is the most astonishing place I’ve ever been to,” John gasped. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
            “I will miss you,” Leisha sighed.
            “I’m not going anywhere,’ John told her.
            “What will you do? Alvin could be in a coma for weeks, months maybe even years…”
            “I’m going to find out who your spy is,” John said. “I’m going to find out who is trying to kill Alvin.”

TO BE CONTINUED …