The rickety old station wagon pulled into Fox Creek on a wing and prayer. The gas light began to blink erratically. Warren felt like someone pulled the rug out from under his sense of hope because Fox Creek looked like a warzone. Overturned cars with crushed windshields and crimson trails ended at the tree line.
The atmosphere in the vehicle wasn’t much better. Warren tried to keep his mind off the dead body in the trunk area. “Mom, I don’t want to stop here. Whatever happened in Edmonton is happening all over. You always knew what to do. I don’t.”
The car sputtered and coughed, just as he pulled into the gas station, and great tufts of smoke billowed from under the hood. Warren surmised the old station wagon refused to live on without his mom. Dim lights watched over the pump area, shards of glass littered the ground and a lone eyeball stared at him from the cold cement.
Warren now faced two problems, One was moving his mother's body to another car, but he needed to find another car first. “I’ll be back soon, mom, I promise.” He moved toward the smashed glass door with caution. The primal instinct re-entered his mind, and his senses seemed to sharpen to the razor’s edge.
Inside, the fluorescent lights temporarily blinded Warren, he took a moment to regain his bearings before he surveyed the small store. Pools of blood dotted the floor but nobodies. He looked around and saw a smartphone with the video player still on. A quick examination revealed the battery hung on the edge of death.
Warren pressed stop and then played the video from the beginning. A happy and bright voice waved to some middle-aged people. “We are here in the middle of Podunk Alberta in search of snacks on the arduous journey home. The local life forms here welcomed us with open arms.”
Warren shook his head, he knew their lives would never be the same.
Warrens continued to watch and as a spade-shaped cowl entered the store. His mind homed in on it. Bright colors and markings set off warning bells, and the coal red eyes did not help matters. Bone-thin arms raised in the air and shouted in an unfamiliar language. Light expelled from the creepy digits, and everyone in the store dropped. A clink of keys in the background gripped Warren’s attention.
He replayed the moment several times to isolate the source, with any luck the keys were under a shelf, or out in the open. Under normal circumstances, Warren would never steal the car, but necessity is the mother of invention. He gave himself a pass. The owners weren’t coming back, and wouldn’t need it anymore.
It took the better part of fifteen minutes to locate the keys. Warren exhaled with excitement, he was saved. Once more, the choice to leave his mother behind presented itself. A wave of sorrow washed over his athletic build. He prayed to the heavens the keys belonged to a truck and stepped out into the cool night air. His finger pressed against the rubber command start button.
Lights pierced the darkness at the other end of the parking lot, exhaust drifted from the pipe of a panel van. Warren streaked across the icy cement and almost fell on the way to his new transport. He examined the inside, no dead bodies in the back or the front seat. “Small favors,” Warren said to himself. He managed to pull the van up close to the old beater of memories and hauled Melanie’s stiff corpse into the back of the van.
He covered her with the emergency blanket and drove up to the entrance of the small gas store. Warren grabbed a few bags of chips and some hot rods from the front counter. He took a few moments to steel himself against the sadness desperate to overtake him before he jumped back behind the wheel.
The dead body in the back bothered him. He couldn’t ignore the pallid vision of death. “I’m sorry about all of this, mom. If it wasn’t for my stupid tournament, you might still be alive. I loved you so much. I don’t think I…” The emotional damn came dangerously close to collapse.
“Sorry, mom. The wound is too fresh. How about some music,” He played with the radio dial and found nothing but static. He checked his mother's phone and his, no internet, or cell reception. He pressed play on the cd console. Bizarre Latin dance filled the van. Warren groaned and dubbed the offensive noise: it was better than nothing.
Answers, Warren wanted answers and explanations. Did the world get attacked by aliens while he skated his way to a provincial hockey championship? The thought seemed wholly ridiculous, but given the evidence, a real possibility. The argument fell apart because the creatures used primitive tools and crude weapons.
“I don’t get it, mom. If these beings existed on earth all this time where were they? Why didn’t we notice them before now? It’s not like those weird three-eyed dwarves appeared out of thin air. I don’t buy it.” The sadness turned to comfort as he spoke to his mother's corpse the whole way back to Grande Prairie.
He reached the tiny town of Bezanson and drove right on through. All he wanted was a hot meal and bed to cry on. Another two kilometers and Warren tried the Radio again, grateful to have the salsa music off. Static on all stations except for CBC radio.
“We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news. Scientists are baffled by the pulse of light that rippled across North America. Mass reports of people collapsing in the streets and orbs of light are coming in from all provinces and states. Scientists are frantic to find the source of the disturbance that brought the world to a grinding halt.”
Warren turned off the radio in time to hear his mother's phone go off. A trembling hand picked up the bubblegum pink phone. The display said, Nerea. Warren pressed the accept button.
Nerea’s Latin accent brought relief. Warren did not feel so alone, “Melanie, I am sorry for calling you so many times, after the pulse, I grew worried…”
“Nerea, mom is...mom is…” Warren choked on the words like bile and swallowed them back down. If he said it out loud, Melanie’s death would be real and permanent.
“Warren where are you?” Nereas worry came through the phone with crystal clarity.
“I just passed through Bezanson. I should be in Grand Prairie in the next five minutes. Are you coming to get me? Mom is in the back of the van.”
“Where did you get a van?”
“The car broke down in Fox Creek. The people who owned it...I had to.” The sadness railed against the emotional dam desperate for freedom. Warren did his best to hold himself together. “Where do you want to meet?”
“We will meet in the mall parking lot, once you are there lock the doors and wait. Do not talk to anybody,” Nerea said. He could hear the door open and close in the background.
“Are you mad at me? I couldn’t save her. I tried so hard…”
“Listen to me, Warren, no one is mad. I am happy to hear you are alive. We will sort everything out once we meet in person, Okay?”
“Okay,” Warren replied in a numbed tone.
“Do you want me to hang up or stay on the line?”
“Please stay on the line.” Warren flicked the blinker on and turned into the parking lot and waited. The awful day was at an end, and he could not wait for it to be over.
Nobody likes to wait. Yet people dedicate whole rooms to the activity. It may not be an uncomfortable chair at the doctor's office, but a stolen car with a dead body in the backbeats the chair by a mile. One second can feel like an eternity. Warren is well acquainted with the phenomenon. His night went beyond the gates of hell, to space, where nothing stretches into an endless void. Warren desires one thing: to open the floodgates of his emotional dam and let every go at once. He wanted to scream about Melanie's death, brag about his victory over the terrors at the rest stop, and astonish people with his exploits at the gas station. He looked at the time on his mother's smartphone. Two minutes passed since the last time he looked at it. He busied his mind with the events
Secrets are horrible things. People have to keep them. In the end, they serve little purpose unless you are throwing a surprise birthday party. The words of the creature haunted Warren, “I’m you.” The raptor yellow eyes invaded his thoughts and distracted him at all hours of the day. He chose not to tell Nerea. The day started at the breakfast table. Fresh coffee dropped steadily into the decanter, Warren stared at it with sleep-deprived eyes. Since the last dream, he developed a fear of falling asleep. The sizzle of the frying pan promised bacon would arrive at the table. “How are you doing this morning, guapito?” Nerea asked. Warren enjoyed her accent, but it did not replace his mother's cheerful whistling as she prepared for the day. On some days, Warren swore t
Secrets are horrible things. People have to keep them. In the end, they serve little purpose, unless you are throwing a surprise birthday party. The words of the creature haunted Warren, “I’m you.” The raptor yellow eyes invaded his thoughts and distracted him at all hours of the day. He chose not to tell Nerea. The day started at the breakfast table. Fresh coffee dropped steadily into the decanter, Warren stared at it with sleep-deprived eyes. Since the last dream, he developed a fear of falling asleep. The sizzle of the frying pan promised bacon would arrive at the table. “How are you doing this morning, guapito?” Nerea asked. Warren enjoyed her accent, but it did not replace his mother's cheerful whistling as she prepared for the day. On some days, Warren swore the birds would sit by the window to croon along with the music. “I’m still having
Funerals the farewell party for people unable to enjoy them. Although with the return of magic, maybe the dead did creep up on the graveyards to get one last look at their loved ones before they moved on to the next adventure. Warren believes the previous statement to be true. He and Nerea were the only two present at the somber affair. The return of magic wrought great changes in society. Warren did not like any of them. The latest change came on the way home after the service. “In other news, the government of Canada has passed a law requiring any peoples with magical gifts to be registered and tested. When asked if the law infringed on human rights, Prime Minister Helios responded with, “We have laws to govern firearms, people with magic are walking firearms waiting to go off by accident. We in Ottawa must consider what is good for the whole.” Nerea turned the radio off and let sile
Time is a cruel mistress. It uses things and leaves them behind in the sea of what once was. Eidola, (plural for eidolon) fits into this category. The phenomenon comes from a singular area of the world, the ancient city of Troy. Warren doesn’t know it yet, but he is a descendant of the first eidolon wielder, Helen of Troy. Nerea covered her mouth and whispered a prayer. Plume continued to watch the bestial energy as Warren walked out of the circle. “Warren how are you feeling?” Plume shouted. While the eidolon provided Warren with enhanced attributes. It came at a terrible price. The eidolon, starved for life, grappled with his mind and he fell to his knees thick beads of sweat dripped down the pale forehead, “This thing wants to wear me like a suit. How do I turn it off?” his hands clapped the side of his head, and he grimaced. Nerea shook Plume in panic
The Dodge Charger rolled through the Caribou Interior, of British Columbia. Nerea decided to take Highway Sixteen. Once upon a time logging trucks and heavy machinery ruled the area. Government legislation changed all that. The logging industry took a nasty downturn in the ’90s and many towns suffered the consequences. The highway itself was a curiosity. Among the hills and valleys, ghostly figures floated on the shoulder of the lonely stretch of road. Their incorporeal bodies mimicked their death state. The visceral display added a heaviness to the interior. The engine revved into high gear and Nerea sped up. Plume gripped the handle on the roof. His knuckles were white, “Why did you have to take Highway Sixteen?” The Seelie spent much of t
The roads made Plume queasy. Warren and Nerea teased him a little about it before he passed out. “Wake me up when we reach Houston,” He curled up in the backseat and passed out. The trip took longer thanks to dense fog. The headlights barely penetrated the thick wall of mist, and Nerea grew more frustrated with the lack of vision. “What is with this fog? When will it end?” her teeth were clenched, and her head practically rested on the steering wheel. Warren placed a hand on Nerea’s arm, “What is with you? Ever since we left the gas station you’ve been different.” He hated seeing her like this. It reminded him of his mom lounging around in her sweatpants. “I hate this whole trip. I used to tease Melanie that she bra
Day came to the small town of Houston the only thing good about it was the world's largest fly fishing rod. At one time people came from all over just to fight a steelhead trout. With the economy on the decline and the town with boarded-up shops and dirty streets, no one wanted to come anymore. The motel diner was not the cleanest, and not a single employee wore a uniform, just black pants, and a black T-shirt. On the wall pictures of semi-famous people who passed through the town. Above the bathroom doors a small sign read, “We have run out of toilet paper, please use the spotted owl beak side down.” Today Warren and his two companions would board the ferry to New Avalon in hopes Warren could gain better control of the eidolon. Plume trusted the spiritual be