MuseWriting

netwolfdaddy writes "Tomorrow
By Eric McMahel
          We begin our story with an entry in the journal of one Doctor Malcolm Zito.
          May 10, 2004. I, Doctor Malcolm Zito, have come up with a few ideas to push humans beyond boundaries both physical and mental. I will begin testing my theories on the death row inmates sent to me by the Government. The first series of experiments should, in theory, produce the most highly efficient soldier man will ever see; it is called MZ-1 or most affectionately called by my comrades, Augmen. MZ-1 is simple. Step 1, a chemical I personally designed, which we will call “X” due to security risks, tricks the mind of the subject into thinking all of the bones in his body are in need of mending, causing them to thicken and harden. This will allow for safer falls, heavier loads and, if I am correct, the deflection of small arms fire. Step 2, a process known as layering, my personal concept as well, involves manually damaging all muscle tissue in the body using lasers and chemicals forcing the tissue to rebuild, we call it buffing. Buffing will, again in theory, double or triple the muscle mass of the subject allowing for almost super human strength. Step 3, certain tendons and ligaments will be fused with a synthetic tissue I designed making it stronger allowing for higher jumps, fewer injuries to joints and faster movements. Step 4, Tiny electrodes will be placed in strategic places in the nervous system increasing the reflexes of the subjects by at least 300%. MZ-1 begins 06:00 am, tomorrow morning.
          On a failed military base in the middle of a desert, location undisclosed.
          In a hanger filled with machines and bustling men and women, at least a hundred beds full of convicts lie in silence, waiting for their turn for whatever death the men in white coats have designed for them.
          A husky, shaggy faced, ill-tempered man turns to his right to converse with his neighbor, “Hey, slim?” The man doesn’t answer or even turn to face him. He is tall, small to medium build with well kept hair and a clean shaven face. “Hey, Slim? Yo, I’m talkin’ to you, ya midnight snack!” The large man sits up and reaches over quickly to grab the man’s arm. In an instant, the silent man had the large man’s wrist twisted and he is launched to the floor.
          A shotgun is fired into the air and the room gets quieter than ever as two men wearing masks and white coats lift the man off the floor and place him back on his bed. The large man shouts as they begin to walk away. “Hey what about my broken wrist ya wormy pencil necks?” They pay no attention and keep walking. He turns to the tall man on his right who still hasn’t looked at him. “You better pray this isn’t just a layover for a transfer, because when we get to the new prison...” He makes a choking gesture with his uninjured hand.
          A whistle is blown in the front of the hanger. A man in a black suite followed by two heavily armed soldiers is now walking slowly down the middle of the hanger, bellowing into a bullhorn. “Listen up good; I will only say this once, because I hate repeating myself. You are all here because you were worthless to society. Our Government has decided to end your life. I have changed their minds, therefore you are mine! I will be the one who decides whether you live or die! You should all be thinking at this moment that your rights are being violated... WRONG! Dead men have no rights! If you serve a purpose for me I will reward you with life, if this at any time does not seem like a fair trade, let me know, I have plenty of acres of farmland that need fertilized and I cannot think of a single thing that does the job better than a rotting corpse!”
          The man turns around when he reaches the end, raises the megaphone once more. “Cooperate with my doctors ladies and gentlemen; I am your last chance! Any questions?” Dozens of hands shoot into the air. “Aren’t surprises wonderful? “ He exits the hanger and with that, every doctor and nurse rushed from bedside to bedside, administering the first of several experimental drugs and chemicals.
          May 11, 2004. All went well with the experiment this morning and surprisingly we are already seeing results! The women were the first to scream as the bones began crackling and grinding, I expected as much, however, their bones for some strange reason don’t seem to be getting any bigger, odd, note to self, recheck dosage notes. The men however, screamed twice as loud, but their bones had begun swelling almost before my eyes. The doctors and nurses are still in there and if all goes well, all of the work should be done by tomorrow afternoon! This team is highly efficient! If my calculations are correct, full results in a week. I shall write more when I have more. P.S. One execution took place today, very sad, disappointing. The one test subject I hoped would make it fully through. He was amazing, eight feet tall and at least 400 lbs. He became extremely violent, even tranquilizers had no effect, broke through chains, shackles, straight jackets, when he snapped a young female scientist in half and began running for the hanger door, he was put down with the fifty caliber. *SIGH* you shall be remembered.


          A week passes after all of the experiments are complete and the inmates, having gone through day after day of constant pain and suffering, have been completely altered. The men, doubled and sometimes tripled in size, the women however did not. The scientists theorized that the chemicals had different effects on different subjects, as predicted, due to estrogen and testosterone levels of each individual, as well as the adrenaline level at the time of the initial injection. The inmates are now lying on their backs in the hanger, and for most of them, the pain has completely subsided.
          The man in the black suite, now commonly referred to as “Warden”, shouts through the megaphone. “Very well done, ladies and gentlemen, I haven’t had to shoot anyone in days, I suppose that is in no small way due to the fact you’ve all been writhing in agony. I have been instructed to give you all one week to recover to full strength and answer any questions you might have, within reason, as I deem necessary.” He walks quickly to the front of the hanger and turns, “Any questions?”
          The husky man, now tripled in size, shouts from his bed in a now very deep, raspy voice, “Not that I’m *****in’, but why the hell would the government spare our lives to make us bigger, stronger and obviously more dangerous?”
          A roar of disturbingly evil and creepy laughter rings out through the hanger, the man in the suite just raises his hand. “I’m afraid I cannot give you an answer that will satisfy you at all, but I will say this. You all have exceeded our expectations and if all continues to go well, you will be rewarded with you freedom.”
          A mix of shouts, gasps and confused laughs ring out. The husky man jumps to his feet and shouts, “Not even a terrorist government would allow us to roam the streets!”
          More laughter, roars and jeers ring out and again, the warden raises his hand, “That, my friend, is what we are hoping for.” And he turns and walks away.
          Now more confused than ever, the inmates all lie back down, most went directly to sleep. Some spoke in hushed voices, some, who had recently made friends with inmates of the opposite gender, huddled and cooed, which was surprisingly not even monitored as far as the inmates knew.
          The husky man, who had spent the last few days talking without response with the slender man, who had now only barely doubled in size, rolled over and said. “What the hell do ya think he meant by that?”
          For the first time in a week, the tall man turned to face him and, shaking his head, he replies with an Asian accent, “You really are just a big dumb animal.” He sighs then continues, “One can only assume that over one hundred death row inmates are given super strength and hardened bones plus freedom, to be sent over seas to become a counter terrorist weapon.” He allowed him a few moments to slowly grasp this concept then added, “It’s okay, take your time.”
          The husky man stared at him open mouthed for a while, then as drool pooled in the corner of his mouth, jerked as if he were stuck in the backside with a sharp object. “They want us to kill for them!”
          “Shhhh,” he hushed, raising a finger to his lips, “do not get your hopes up, it is only an assumption after all.” And he lay back down and closed his eyes.
          “Hey,” the big man said, “sorry about before, my name is Bear.”
          Without even opening his eyes, the man quietly says, “Indeed, I am Ghost, sleep now.”
          Bear just fell upon his pillow, curled up in a ball, and began to snore loudly.
          May 18, 2004. Success! No casualties! Few minor setbacks, but, all in all a complete success! I must write to my contact and inform her of my victory. All subjects will be given a thorough physical in one week’s time and go through a series of tests, then phase 2 can commence. I am so pleased.

          May 21, 2004. Most of the inmates, now called Augmen, slept for almost two whole days, only waking up long enough to eat or drink. A few unpredicted side effects have begun to emerge. The women of the group have all become what magazines would refer to as “physically perfect“, their facial features have become slightly feline, and they have tiny, almost invisible, white hairs all over their bodies. They have become quite aggressive towards the males when advanced upon without warning and we have had to separate them by gender. The men began growing hair on their backs, the bottoms of their arms, the tips of their ears and their existing hair as well as the new hair, became thick and course, giving them an almost animalistic appearance. Their voices became deeper, raspy, and they have begun to, sometimes involuntarily, grunt or growl. They have also began to grab, grope and sometimes force themselves on the female nurses, none were injured however due to the tightness and quickness of our security team. These side effects have forced us to give the Augmen new privileges for good behavior. If they “behave”, they are moved to the newly constructed housing addition, one of highest security, and are allowed to mingle with the other gender under strict security. I have been informed by my team that a single tranquilizer dart is no longer effective on any of the subjects and we had to devise a better one. They are fascinating to watch. I have brought in a team of photographers and writers to do*****ent their behavior so we can learn from these, “new beings.” I feel like a father again. Especially when they call me Warden.
          Bear walks along side of Ghost now, everywhere he goes, as if he has silently devoted his life to being his protector. Over the next few weeks, after the transfer to the housing addition and all of the tests were done, something odd has been happening, almost all of the Augmen have become fascinated by Ghost. He stands on his rooftop every night, with Bear watching from the edge, practicing his martial arts and at the end of a month he began teaching some of the others his style of fighting. This caught the attention of a certain guard one night and he reported it immediately.

          “Sir!” He snapped to attention and added, “The Augmen are being taught some sort of combat by one of the others, what is to be done about this?”
          Malcolm scratched his chin, tapped his pencil, then rose from his desk and peered out the window overlooking the town.
          After a few moments the soldier clears his throat and says, “Sir?”
          “I heard you Corporal. This is very interesting, unexpected yes, but maybe a good thing. I should like to speak to him. Bring him at once.”

          An hour later, an armored vehicle rolls through town to where Ghost is still teaching and a dozen armed soldiers jump out. The Augmen all snarl and growl and ready themselves for a fight. A soldier comes forward and shouts, pointing at Ghost, “You there, you are to come with us, the warden wishes to speak with you.”
          Ghost drops effortlessly from the rooftop and strolls over to him with his hands behind his back, turns to his friends and speaks, “I shall return shortly.” Turning quickly to Bear, who is walking quickly toward him. “No, Bear, I go alone.” He is escorted inside the vehicle and away to the wardens office.

          June, 28, 2004. I have spoken with one of the Augmen, named Ghost, he is not like the others. Where as most of them seemed to have traded their intellect for their new physique, Ghost seems to have made an even trade. He has retained most of his vocabulary skills and his I.Q. seems almost unimpaired. He is a large man, about 6’3”, and looks to weigh approximately 285 lbs. I shall speak with him on a daily basis, using him to get an insider’s view. As for him training his comrades, I shall allow it, for he is most undoubtedly an expert in the ways of hand to hand combat.
          Over the next few days, Ghost is summoned several times to Malcolm's office. On one particular occasion Malcolm presents him with a gift. “Hello again Ghost, treated well are you?”
          “Indeed.” Ghost replies quietly. He walks slowly around the warden’s office with his hands behind his back, reading plaques and framed awards.
          Malcolm, sitting at his desk with two armed men behind him, flips through a journal on his desk. “I wish to speak today, of your obvious leadership role among the others.”
          Ghost doesn’t turn to look at him, but asks, “What is this a picture of?” He points at a photo on a high shelf, one of the warden and a few soldiers, standing in a burning village, the bottom of the picture seems to be folded under, hiding whatever it is they are standing on.
          Malcolm, slightly discouraged by the delay of an answer, stands and moves to stand by Ghost. “Ah, that is a picture of who and what made me what I am today. Does the military interest you?”
          Ghost lowers his arm back behind him, and walks away, “You did not answer me completely.”
          Malcolm tilts his head and looks at the two-way mirror on the wall, behind which sit a photographer and a writer. “Curious, what is it you wish to know about the picture?”
          Ghost stops walking, turns and smiles slightly, “I have seen similar pictures in hunting lodges, you look very proud, as if you just completed a mission.” He advances slowly toward the warden. The men behind the desk anxiously raise their weapons. “Tell me who it is you have successfully hunted in this photo.”
          Malcolm loses his phony cheerfulness, “Let’s just say it was something that needed to be done.” He walks back to his desk and sits down in a huff. “Please sit down.”
          “Very well, we all have secrets, dear warden.” Ghost sits down opposite the warden. “What wonderful insights may I give you this day?”
          Malcolm leans back in his chair. “You amaze me. Almost all of the others experienced extreme mental side effects, hell, some even went mad. The Augmen seem to have flocked to you. This is most pleasing. I wish for you to take advantage of this, become their leader. Their General.”
          Ghost retaining his expressionless face, asks, “Why?”
          “Ha! Why?” Malcolm shouts, “You seem to be the only one of the subjects that can string a group of words together to make a sentence! Besides, why wouldn’t you want to? You would be given a rank, special privileges, I would make it well worth your while.”
          “These men, most of whom have given up on life, go by a different set of rules. You see, warden, prison makes animals of most men anyways, now you have completed that transformation. They will not respect a symbol of authority such as rank.”
          “Ah,” Malcolm says quietly, “but they do respect you. I have been informed that several of the men, as well as women, have even knelt to you, I watch in awe as they treat you as a king without even being appointed as such.”
          “And you wish for me to rule these men as you rule me?”
          Malcolm's face flushes. “Do not think I have lost control over the situation, Ghost.” He shuffles through some more papers nervously, “I am offering you all your freedom, your own country, don’t turn this down, as I said in the beginning, I am your last chance at life.”
          Ghost stands again, the men raise their weapons again. He walks back to the shelf on which the picture sits. “Very well, I shall do this for you, but,,,,” He turns to face the warden. “I will wear no symbols, as I said, they will not respect that. Give me two days and I shall earn it.” And without so much as a request to leave, he walks out of the room and heads back to the town.
                                                CHAPTER TWO
          Ghost immediately finds Bear and tells him what all was said, knowing full well that unless he asked him not to, he would spread the news like a common cold. Seeing Ghost and Bear whispering after he got back from the warden’s office and Ghost and Bear obviously keeping a huge secret, the other Augmen were agitated by this, seeing it as a threat. At dusk, when Ghost normally practiced, one of the Augmen approached him.
          “Traitor!” And he shoved Ghost. The two circle each other for a few seconds.
          Ghost smiles and seeing how this upsets the other Augman, smiles even wider and raises his eyebrows. The Augman charges, in a flash, both men are entangled in each other’s arms and legs. Dust and pieces of clothing flies everywhere. The whole ordeal only lasts a few seconds, but it is so ferocious and loud that every guard on the wall is now looking down nervously. When the dust settles, only Ghost stands, not even out of breath, shirt torn in half, pants ripped and cuts and gashes on his face, arms and chest. “He raises his hand, makes a come hither motion and says, “Next.”
          Augman after Augman charge and fall until at least a dozen lie at Ghost’s feet. The rest of the Augmen begin to walk away, some nodding with approval, some grunting, and some even bowing the heads to him first. Ghost turns toward the wardens office window, straightens and bows.

          July 4, 2004. Over the last few days, it has become apparent that Ghost is their chosen leader, not only is he feared, but now most obviously respected. All of the Augmen seem to view him as what they used to call in prison, “The Yard Boss.” They have begun presenting him with gifts and the females seem to have suddenly turned all their focus on him, becoming less violent and more manageable. I think Ghost was right, we have turned men into animals, they have an almost wolf-like hierarchy. They are ready for their training.

          Ghost’s shack has now been remodeled and he is given a telephone, directly linked with the warden’s office. As soon as it was fully connected, he used it. “Hello warden.”
          “Why hello, Ghost, all is well?” The warden asks.
          “Indeed. Now that I have done as you requested, I should like you to do something for the men.”
          A short pause and Malcolm replies, “It depends on what it is, but I’m sure we can do something, remember you are all still inmates.”
          “On the contrary, dear Malcolm.” Ghost says quietly, “We are becoming soldiers, yes?”
          Malcolm chuckles slightly at this and replies, “Truly, yes, you have me there. Very well, what is your request?”
          “The men have brought it to my attention, that even in prison they had televisions and were allowed to lift weights, play basketball, and some were allowed to contact their families.”
          “Ah,” Malcolm sighed, “that’s true. I shall immediately satisfy all of your requests, accept one, no phones. I cannot allow anyone to find out what is going on here.”
          Ghost knew he would say that, but he felt it was his duty to at least ask. “I will inform the men. Good day.”
          The following morning, semis were flooding through the gates to the town. All the Augmen had been ushered back to the hanger for the day, told they would be watching a couple of movies and given cases of sodas. When they returned at the end of the day, some pacified by the gesture of movies, some disappointed, they were thrown into shock by the alterations made to their town. Small diner/stores had been constructed in several places around the town, as well as basketball courts, and an enormous weight room. Refrigerators and televisions had been put in their homes, and each bed had five hundred dollars on it.
          It seemed at that point, Malcolm had completely satisfied his soldiers. Fewer fights broke out. Fewer public acts of indiscretion were broken up and the women seemed now to be pairing up with males of higher “rank,” which was to be expected. Two days after all of the new construction was done, Malcolm called Ghost and informed him he was to assemble all the Augmen at dawn for training.
          Dawn came and all the men and women were sat in bleachers, listening to instructors talk about weapons and vehicles, parachutes, and tactics for stealth. It seemed to Ghost, who always shared his thoughts with his “sergeants”, that they were about to be used as expendable soldiers as they were only being trained for enough to get them through the first few moments of serious combat. A month went by and training went as well as to be expected.
          August 1, 2004. The Augmen have exceeded my expectations once again, in that they have all, for the most part, absorbed all of the training necessary for their mission. My men will continue to review with them on a daily basis for one more month, at which time, we will begin Operation Genocide as instructed by my superiors. The date, time, place and any further details will be left out of this journal due to the sensitive nature of this excursion. I almost dread the day to come when my children will face war, however, if they are successful, I will be a king.
          A month rolls by without incident. The inmates think they are being trained as an elite fighting unit and have no idea of the dreadful thing awaiting them. Dr Zito keeps reassuring his “soldiers” with promises of freedom and their own land, but for the select few who are still capable of rational thought, this is no comfort.
          Only an hour after the first stage of operation Genocide is set in motion.

          A news reporter speaks anxiously to a camera as if fearing for his life...
          “As you can see behind me Brenda, the firefights are still raging on...” He points behind him, “we don’t know where they come from, how they got here, or even how they got past all the soldiers at the entrance to the town, however, they are obviously not human. We have pictures of these creatures taken by our men at the front, they are carrying an assortment of weapons from all over the globe, they don’t seem to be wearing any particular uniform, but they do all seem to have one thing in common, they speak a guttural sort of English mixed with grunts and growls...” The reporter jumps and ducks as bullets clip the ground at his feet. “I think the fight is getting a little closer than we would like, so I’m going to get back in my truck and move away, I will...Ahh!”
          The camera pans shakily to the left, Augmen are coming over the top of the hill behind the film crew smoke still rising from behind them. At the center of the group walks Ghost right next to Bear, followed by at least a hundred others. Behind them, the city begins to grow silent and fires burn as high as the tallest building. Bear rushes the cameraman, Ghost grunted, and Bear halts.
          The reporter, stands shaking, pants wet, in front of Ghost. The reporter falls to his knees and covers his head. Ghost calmly reaches down and gently grabs him by the arm and lifts him to his feet. “You are not why we are here, stand and do your job.”
          The reporter, now surrounded by the Augmen, stands and tries to compose himself. He holds the microphone to his mouth and tries to speak, “W, W, W, I, You, Who,,,”
          Ghost smiles and pulls the microphone to his own lips, “I see, you wish to know who we are, yes?” The reporter nods, crying, struggling to keep his feet. “All I will tell you is we are the Augmen, we have succeeded.” He points to the camera and says, “Bear, turn that off.” The camera turns to Bear, his face twisted into an evil grin. The last thing reported is Bear’s hand going over the lens and a loud crunching sound.
          The unexpected and vicious attack brings together people of all nations, they are gathered in a huge, round hall and angrily they begin talking about war, how to deal with these terrorists, and some even starting to make threats.
          An Asian man stands and shouts, “How can no one know where they came from?”
          A Russian man stands and shouts, “Ha! Did you not see their leader, he is obviously Asian, who is to say it was not you!?”
          An American speaks up at this point, “Well, I would not point fingers if I were you, Viktor, he did call one of his “comrades” Bear.”
          At this the Russian grows red in the face and points his finger at the American, “I noticed quite a few of your people in that rabble as well, American dog!”
          The American stands, fixes the tie on his black suite and says, “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! We are not children here. Let’s stop fighting here and work together to find the people responsible and bring them to justice. After all, there were people of all nations represented, even women were there. We must all calm down.”
          A British gentleman stands up and shouts, pointing at an empty chair. “I can think of only one country where so many races would come together to form a militia like this one.” All eyes turn to the empty chair, on the table in front of it reads, “Dr. Malcolm Zito”

          Many days of terror go by and all nations of the world begin fighting even more as these Augmen spread like a virus from one country to another. Riots break out all over the world and death and destruction bring all governments to the decision to declare Martial Law. Day after day, things get worse, tempers flare, and Dr. Zito knows it is time for phase three...
          Malcolm sits down at his desk and quickly begins scribbling on some paper. “Captain, would you be so kind as to begin escorting everyone down to the catacombs?”
          A startled looking man in front of his desk asks in disbelief, “Sir? Do you really think that will be necessary?”
          Malcolm drops his pencil, looks up at the soldier, leans back in his chair and folds his hands on his chest. “Of course it is. This has been my plan the whole time! Why else do you think I went to those meetings? Why do you think I had you all build that gigantic bunker?”
          “But, Sir. Does the President know of this?” The Captain asks.
          “HAH! That fool would have us tolerate terrorist governments until they kill us all and invade our great nation. I have ended a thousand year old nightmare.” Malcolm leans forward, lifts his pencil and writes. Then looking up from his paper once more. “You may go now.” He says making a shooing gesture.
          October 7, 2004. The President wanted me to install a remote activated kill switch in the Augmen before I sent them, I didn’t. Why on Earth would I kill my children? What a fool, he thought I would have them do all the dirty work and let him have that country once they were dead, HAH! I have gone a step further with his original plan. I have begun a worldwide battle that will forever end terrorism, hate crimes, and the inevitable overpopulation of the world. I have begun the evacuation of the base and as I write this, a team of one thousand two hundred and eleven men and women, comprised of scientists, scholars and combat experts are being ushered into my underground kingdom to await the inevitable nuclear war which is about to begin. I, Dr. Malcolm Zito have succeeded in wiping the Earth clean. Since I don’t foresee a comet crashing into us again any time soon and the Earth is incapable of ridding herself once more of evil, I will. Someone had to do it.

                                      CHAPTER THREE
          Down in the catacombs, Dr. Zito warned the men and women that any day now they would hear and feel the rumble of the nuclear weapons and they were in his debt for saving their lives, however, after a month of being down there in the dimly lit, cold of the dungeon he had built, one man forced himself into Dr. Zito’s office and caught him watching the news, at which time it was discovered that Dr. Zito’s plan had failed and they were now trapped underground by a time activated hatch which would only open after fifteen years. Dr. Zito was escorted, by his own men, to the furnace, where he was thrown in as punishment for his crimes.
          The Augmen swept from nation to nation, as predicted by Dr. Zito, war swept the globe, none were spared from this horrible battle. After the capture of one of the Augmen, Dr. Zito’s plan was discovered and a ceasefire was called. The Augmen were offered asylum at which time they disappeared into the jungles, forests and woods all over the world. After months of cleanup and restoration, nations began speaking once again, only this time, they had all decided it was time to work together for a global peace. In a way, Dr. Zito’s crime had done what thousands of years of talks had not.

          Never dismiss anything as fiction until you contemplate how far technology has come over the last ten years. Are children’s fears of the dark really all that irrational? Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t lurking in the dark waiting for the perfect time to pounce. When was the last time you were in the woods and felt like you were being watched or saw something you couldn’t explain? The hairs on the back of your neck are the eyes in the back of your head, you just refuse to see what is back there. "

netwolfdaddy writes "Why I Drive A Cab
By Eric McMahel

          My name is Dominick and I used to drive a semi. Last June I was hauling down the longest stretch of lonely highway I had ever seen in my life. There was dessert everywhere, no houses, no trees, no mountains, just road. I had been driving for twenty seven hours straight to try and get ahead of schedule. I was going to meet a friend in Houston for a little party time. It was the middle of the night, the road was straight as an arrow, it was raining, and it was boiling hot in the cab of my truck because the company I worked for wouldn’t fix my air conditioner. Trust me, I have had some long days before but this one was killing me, I mean, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I watched every line go by like I was counting sheep, the truck swayed gently back and forth like a ship on the ocean, the rain and the gentle hum of those big tires was singing me to sleep.
          Four more hours go by and I had already gone over the line twice so I decided to pull over on the shoulder and get a couple hours of sleep. It didn’t take long and I was sawing logs and dreaming about pulling into Houston, finding my pal and hanging out at his club until dawn. I had set my alarm to go off in five hours but I was waked up in three by someone beating on the side of my truck like a lunatic. I grabbed my baseball bat and peered out the window to see a rain soaked woman holding what appeared to be a baby. What could I do? I opened the door and told her to hop in.
          When she got in I started to ask her what was wrong but all she said was, “Drive!” and from the sound of her voice and the look of terror on her face, I wasn’t about to argue. With a flick of the wrist and a shove to the stick we were moving.
          I was still a little groggy but after a few minutes I regained my ability to speak. “What happened? Are you two ok?”
          The cab lights dimly lit her pale face and I saw on her shirt a few spatters of what could only be blood. She rocked back and forth and gently bounced the bundle in her arms and without a shutter in her voice she said as calmly as a bank teller. “We’re fine for now; we just need to get away from here.”
          Now I was really exhausted and still somewhat shaken by all that had transpired but she seemed a little too calm to me and I had to ask. “Is that blood on your shirt? Are you sure you‘re ok?”
          Without so much as a pause she answered. “Yes, I slipped in the rain and cut my palm, but I am fine.”
          We drove for about five miles and after drinking some coffee from the pot I had in the back I finally fully came to my senses. “Look lady, I have a cell phone and a radio if you need to call the police, it doesn’t look like there is any sign of life up ahead anytime soon so if you’re in some kind of trouble we should pull over and take care of this.”
          Her hand shot out and grabbed my arm and she shouted. “Don’t stop this truck! I’m begging you.”
          I looked at her. Her eyes were full of anger not fear and I decided I needed to know what was going on. See that’s a guy thing, we really don’t need to know everything and sometimes after we do know everything we realize that we shouldn’t have asked in the first place because some things are just better left in the dark. “Look, lady. If you don’t tell me what’s going on I’m going to call the police myself.”
          She looked at the bundle in her arms, and then looked up at me. “All you need to know is, this is my baby and there are some very bad people after me. They want to take my baby and they won’t stop until they get her.”
          Great, a domestic dispute. What had I gotten myself into; some crazy drunk is going to try to ram me off the road now because I took off with his old lady and their kid. “Whoa lady, look. I can’t have this kind of trouble. I will drop you off at the first house, town, gas station, or cop that I see, but I have places to be and I’m not looking to get shot.”
          She lowered her head and she began to weep. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess, and I’m sorry that I can’t tell you more, but it is very important that you do not stop this truck until we get to Buckburn.” She looked up at me through tear soaked eyelashes, “Please?”
          All women know man’s weak spots; food, sports, anything with wheels, bars, and the puppy dog look. I looked at her, and then the road, then back at her, slammed my hand on the wheel and said. “Aw crap. Ok, Buckburn, but only because it’s on the way. As soon as you get out I’m gone. Don’t expect me to stick around and help you with whatever, I got a schedule to keep.” I don’t know what it is but a man cannot say no to any woman or child that looks at him with those huge, watery eyes, flickering eyelashes and a pouting lip.
          It would be at least six hours before we got to Buckburn, a tiny dessert town with a population of maybe three hundred, and she wasn’t doing much talking. I had to know more about what was going on, because I wasn’t about to get shot at without knowing why and I had a feeling that whoever she was running from wasn’t going to just let her go. “My name is Dominick by the way.”
          She paused for a moment, and then looked at me, “My name is Paris.”
          Ok, maybe that was her real name maybe it wasn‘t, didn‘t care. “So why don’t you tell me what’s going on? You know I might just be able to help. I do know a lot of people around Buckburn.”
          She smirked and shook her head, “I doubt you know these people.”
          Being a traveling man I rolled through towns like Buckburn all the time, stopping to do a little gambling and sometimes meeting some very shady types. I asked her “What, like gamblers, bootleggers, mafia, what?”
          She shook her head and smirked again. “Let’s just say they like their privacy.”
          “Well they sound just like the kind of people I would know. Like Big Tony, umm, Carl Hack, Halley Hurst….”
          “None of those people, I assure you, you do not know them.”
          I left things alone for a few minutes because one thing women don’t like is a pushy man. I drank some more coffee and wiped sweat from my forehead. “So what’s the baby’s name?” Thought maybe I would just clear that up.
          She looked as though she was about say something, and then changed her mind. “Her name is June.”
          Ok, if she didn’t want me to know too much I won’t push, but at least I know it’s a baby and not a severed head. “She must be freezing in that wet blanket, if you want to you can go in back and wrap her in one of the clean towels….”
          She pulled the baby tighter to her chest and said firmly. “No, she’s fine! It’s plenty warm in here!”
          I was totally shocked, I actually jerked away a little. Never heard of a woman who wasn’t worried their baby would get sick. “Take it easy, I’m not going to hurt you or steal your baby or anything, I just thought maybe you would want to get her dried off so she doesn’t get sick.”
          She looked down at the baby, then up at me, “Oh. Yeah well. I suppose I should get her dried off. I’m still just a little edgy, sorry.”
          She got up and moved to the back of the truck. “You can hang the wet blanket over the bucket back there if you want to….” I happened to glance at the side mirror and saw headlights gaining on me fast. “Oh great; is this who you’re running from?”
          She jumped through the curtain with the baby wrapped tightly in a big towel. “Oh no!” She exclaimed “He caught up.”
          It was a big black S.U.V. and it had to have been going at least eighty miles an hour. “Look lady, you better tell me. Is this your husband, boyfriend, some kind of masked psycho killer or what?”
          “It’s my boyfriend! He has a gun, but he won’t shoot, just drive.” She scrambled to the back again and threw the curtain closed. “Just look straight ahead and let him pass us, act normal.”
          “Act normal? Lady if I get shot at, I’m running him over, that’s normal to me.” I slowed down to a normal speed so he wouldn’t get suspicious. He was now moving over into the other lane and passing. As he got up next to me I waved and nodded then looked back at the road. Thankfully, he hammered down and sped off. I watched as he flew by and he didn’t have a license plate, all the windows were tinted, and he had definitely put some wrench time in on that engine because his tail lights were quickly disappearing.
          Paris peeked through the curtain after a few moments. “Yeah, that was definitely him. You need to drive much faster, because when he figures out that he passed us, he will turn around.”
          Now, it didn’t occur to me at the time how he would know he had passed them, but I did have a few more questions now after seeing the truck. “Ok, now I have to know who that was because no one puts that much time and effort into a new S.U.V. unless they are, A. a gangster, B. government, or C. Rich.”
          She bounced the baby again and turned to look at me. “He just loves that truck. He spent more time with that truck than he did us, so we got into an argument. That’s why I left him tonight. He had been drinking and he was out in the garage all night. The baby was out of diapers and we needed to go to town….”
          “Ok, lady. I got it.” Nothing pierces a man’s ears more than a ranting woman. “Save it for your girlfriends ok.” at that moment I realized, while trying to figure out what to do, I hadn’t heard anyone on the radio for a long time probably because of the storm and because this highway is so deserted. I reached for my cell phone and I wasn’t shocked to see I had no service. “Ok look. I’m going to have to find a town closer than Buckburn so I can make a few calls, but it shouldn’t be too hard….”
          “Good idea!” she shouted. “We could take a different route that way when he does turn around we will be gone.” And with that she began rummaging through the maps on the console.
          “That’s the one.” I stated when she had found it. “Look for marker 161 on that highway there.” I pointed it out on the map. “Is there anything close to here; Maybe Milton or Furrow.”
          “Ah, yes Furrow. You must make a right.” She showed me the map.
          I now had a plan. Drop this crazy woman off at the police station there and take off so I could get to Houston. “Ok. When we get there I will make some calls and you find the police.”
          “NO!” she shouted as she took the map. “No police. We cannot deal with the police, they… he knows the police there and he will have surely called them already……”
          “We are going to the police.” I said as I reached for the map. She jerked away. “Give me the map.”
          “No.” she said calmly.
          “Come on, give it here.”
          “No.” she said and began rolling down the window.
          “Look lady, I’m not playing around, give me the map.” I shot my hand out just as the crazy witch tossed the map out the window.
          “That’s it!” I shouted and I began to stop suddenly. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on or you’re walking.” When we had stopped I asked. “Why can’t we go to the police? You kidnap this baby?”
          “No. She’s my baby. I told you he knows the police and…..” She glanced quickly ahead and got a look of fear on her face.
          I looked and saw the headlights, same as before, coming at us very fast. I reached for my gun that was under the seat, threw it in my lap and threw the truck into gear but it was too late. The S.U.V. was right in front of me now and the only thing I could do was stop once again. Paris dove through the curtain and I put on the brake. I made a hand gesture to keep quiet and opened the door. A tall man wearing all black was getting out of the S.U.V.
          I hopped right down, with my gun in the back of my pants and met him in front of my rig. “What on earth are you doing, man? I could have killed you?”
          He held up his hand. Shining brightly in my headlights was a golden colored badge. His other hand held a pistol. “Sir I’m afraid I have to search your vehicle.”
          The story she told me about him knowing the police and the tingling sensation in my gut made me think he was full of it. “Let me see that badge up close.” I demanded.
          The man walked a little closer and held the badge into the light. It read quite simply. “Federal Officer.” with some numbers beneath. “Sir, I have reason to believe you picked up a fugitive tonight and I really need to search your vehicle.”
          As I said before I have been around some pretty bad people before so I know whether a badge is real or not. “Well, I didn’t pick anyone up, but check behind the cab. Sometimes people jump between the rig and the trailer and get a free ride.”
          “Thank you sir.” he said as he marched to the back of the rig. He shined his light in the window of the cab as he went by and saw no one. At the rear of truck he took a quick look around then turned and asked again. “Well, let’s have a look inside shall we?”
          “Well,” feeling very uneasy about harboring a federal fugitive. “Ok, but I told you I didn’t pick anyone up.” I walked back to the door with him and opened it up. The officer climbed inside and threw the curtain open. Now what happened next is hard to explain. You ever almost get hit by a bus? You know how everything goes in slow motion but you can’t do anything.
          I saw the flash of light but I never heard a gun shot. The officer went flying through my windshield and crashed into the windshield of his own truck. Paris hopped out of my rig holding the baby, her eyes glowing green. “I’m so sorry.” she said. “If only you had listened to me.”
          I looked at the baby; the towel had slipped off of her head. She was a reddish color and scaly. She had big eyes and her ears were slightly pointed. Her hair was jet black and thick and down the center of it protruded tiny red spikes. The baby just cooed and giggled. What do you say when you se something like that?
          She came closer to me and I felt dizzy like I was about to faint. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want to but he would never have stopped chasing us.” She slowly began changing color. Her eyes grew larger and spikes began to grow from her head. “All we needed was to get to Buckburn. Now I fear we have missed our ride…….” Just then it stopped raining all around us. It was still raining, just not over us. A bright yellow light shot from above, enveloping Paris and the infant. She looked directly up at the light, then down to the baby. “Oh, Arris. They found us. We are going home.”
          I had fallen to the ground when the light came on; I held a hand over my eyes and looked at her. “What..who…”
          Paris, or whoever, and the baby were lifted up into the light by an unseen force. As they disappeared above me, the yellow light dimmed and I saw an enormous black disc hovering fifty feet above me. The light went completely out, and in a flash the disc popped straight up and out of sight.
          “I jumped in my truck and floored it all the way to Houston, didn’t stop once. When I got there, I parked my truck, called the company I worked for and told them they could come get their truck I would never drive again. Then I called my friend, he’s who got me this job driving a cab.” I pulled into a parking space in front of the airport, turned around to face the lady in the back seat, and held out my hand for the fare. “That’s why I drive a cab.”
          The lady in the back seat just threw a fifty dollar bill on the seat, jumped out of the cab, and ran for the entrance to the airport. I picked up the bill, tucked it into my shirt pocket, and was about to drive off when someone jumped into the back seat. “Where to?” I asked.
          “Downtown.” He said, getting situated.
          “My name is Dominick,” I began as we drove off, “I used to drive a semi for a living.”


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