Twenty Four

bolted out the door and fell to the ground after missing the last step.  Kaitlin scrambled up and ran from the asylum, leaving behind the bracelet Danny had given her, its magnetic clasp sprung from the force of her tumble.

“Come on!” screamed Danny, standing fast and holding out his hand, beckoning desperately to Kaitlin. “They’re right behind us!”

Kaitlin risked a glance back into the darkened hallway of the abandoned state asylum and heard what she feared most: the aching moan of the Lost, the Tormented, the Insatiable.  She knew they must keep running, keep running until the air in their lungs burned and their legs threatened to collapse beneath them.  If they stopped, they would be devoured by the darkness. Forever.

Danny grasped her hand firmly and pulled her along, his stride never faltering. He didn’t look back. He knew what he would see if he did, and he knew it would lead to madness.  He must get them as far from the grounds as possible, and never look back.

But he failed to account for the determination of souls longing for the sweet taste of Life.  They yearned to engulf the two in their icy grasp; Danny and Kaitlin would never leave the grounds.

Twenty Three

So Branches and Francois shambled down the street toward their home. Hopefully Susie and Billie would be waiting, dog biscuits and cat treats at the ready.

Branches looked down at his reluctant friend and said, “You know, kitty…I had an awful lot of fun today!”

Francois stopped, sat down and began to lick his paw. After a moment of quiet he looked up at the big dog and said, “Y’know something? I did too.”

The sun settled into the west as the two companions wandered onto the front lawn of 225 Maple Street. There, sure enough, were Susie and Billie, treats in hand. It was a Good Day.

Twenty Two

The planet spun slowly in an elegant ellipse around the dying sun, the only remaining witnesses possessing neural nets so primitive they would never register the beauty of the dance.

As Petra and her crew shunted their ship across a million paper-thin quantum universes, she fought a loneliness that permeated her being. She had left three of her crew behind; frozen bodies buried in shallow graves, each topped with a marker no one would ever read. She had disobeyed orders which, had she carried them out, would have left more behind.

What troubled her most was what she would do next. Her orders from Starmada were explicit, and if she failed they would cancel not only her life, but those of everyone under her command. Then they would find some other heartless bastard to carry them out anyway.

Safely ensconced in her own quantum universe, she prepared to activate the Superstring Engine; a heinous device which would collapse every other parallel universe to a quantum singularity. Starmada had enough enemies to contend with; they would brook no trouble from elsewhere.

As Petra contemplated the horrific and unforgivable crime against the Universe she was about to commit, a thought presented itself: What if a Petra from another continuum was about to do the same? She smiled quietly to herself, deactivated the Superstring Engine, and reengaged the Shunt Drive.

She may end up dead in another universe, but she didn’t care.

Twenty One

and the clowns!  What the hell were all these clowns doing here?  I just couldn’t look at them.  With every ounce of will I had, I wished them away.  As I’ve told you before, clowns make me itch.  Just the thought of them.  I mean, who the hell goes around in white makeup and baggy pants scaring innocent children at birthday parties?  Psychopaths, that’s who.

I said my goodbyes to Jennifer, patted Sparky on the head, and made my way toward the Valley.  I could only do so much for these people; now it was up to them.  My right arm still hurt from the beating it took, my pants were irreparably torn, and for some godawful reason my left shoe was covered in honey.  I never did find out how that happened.

As I increased the distance between me and the small group gathered outside the Langston Bar & Grille I thought to myself, “This wasn’t such a bad day; not such a bad day at all.”

Then I saw Billy.  Shit.

Twenty

He watched the strangers scud past his building far below, and wailed silently. He would move among them, but never be a part of them. After all he had been through for them, all the pain, all the sorrow, all the triumph, they would never know how his sacrifice had spared them.

Lost. Lost and alone. Lost and alone in a world he must always keep at arm’s length. They shunned him now; if they knew what he truly was, they would destroy him. He loved the world almost as deeply as the woman he had given up to save it, yet would never feel its comforting embrace.

He turned away from the window, lifted his gangly form off the stained, threadbare ottoman and scuffed across the carpet to the kitchen. Mac & cheese. He loved mac & cheese.

Nineteen

and Troy set the wand down at Athenea's feet. He shed a tear for his sister; she had died saving him. She looked as if she were merely sleeping. Luther would never forgive him, but that mattered little right now.

Druelle knelt down beside Troy, placing her arm comfortingly around his shoulder. There had been a time where her touch would have repulsed him; all that had changed. If not for Druelle, none of them would be alive. The tears kept coming, and they would never stop.

Eighteen

crying out, "For the love of God! If you run any slower, you're a dead man!"

Joshua couldn't run any faster. He was an emaciated 57 year old Jew with the remains of his left lung and a kidney ready to shut down should anyone of authority give the word. His heart threatened to rupture, even at this shambling pace, sweat as he had not seen in 30 years drenched his forehead, and spots of light kept flashing in and out of his field of vision. He was a dead man.

Dash pulled to a stop once he saw his boss ready to keel over. Rolling his eyes, hands on his hips, he hurried back to save his life. Grabbing Joshua, he hoisted him up into a fireman's carry, and trotted off through the field.

Coming upon an enormous chestnut tree, Dash grabbed the lowest branch and nimbly gamboled up to the higher ones, Joshua no more bother than a winter scarf. He finally came to light on a wide horizontal branch, barely winded. He looked quite proud of himself, and his face showed his glee.

"Well," he beamed, "At least bears don't climb trees!"