Down the Psycho Path

by Mandy White

  “Ow!” I squeezed my eyelid tighter against the invasion of the light. “Fuck off! That’s bright.”

  Laughter filled the room.

  “That’s Mom, all right!” my daughter’s voice said. “She’s back!”

  I managed to open my eyes; just a sliver at first, until they adjusted to the light, then eventually opened them all the way.

  “What…” Words escaped me.

  I was in a strange room, similar to a hospital room but the décor had a homier feel. My family surrounded my bed. My son Mark and daughter Nancy, along with their spouses and children, all crowded into the room.

  “What are you all doing here?”

  Mark explained, “We had been planning it since September. We weren’t going to let you be alone at Christmas. Nancy and I collaborated and all four of us managed to schedule vacation time for December. We wanted to surprise you. Turned out we were the ones who were surprised when we showed up to find you weren’t home. We called your workplace and your boss said you’d taken the entire month off for health reasons.”

  Nancy chimed in, “Mom, how could you do this without telling us? Do you have any idea how worried we were when we couldn’t find you? It was your neighbor, Helen, who told us. You’d given her the key and asked her to water your plants because you were going away. She said you’d given her a phone number to call if you didn’t return by January fifth. We called the number and it was a… whatever this place is. I still don’t fully understand it.”

  “Cryogenics,” Mark said. “You froze yourself. But I’m not sure I understand why.”

  “I just wanted to skip it, you know? The whole damn thing. I knew you kids were too far away to visit, and Mom…” a sob caught in my throat at the mention of my mother. I felt guilty for abandoning her, even though she didn’t know the difference. “I did it for Mom, too. I wasn’t just being selfish. They gave me the brochure, the people at the care home. We can put Mom into Cryo-sleep until they have a cure. I wanted to discuss it with you, but thought it only fair to test it myself first to make sure it worked. I didn’t want to do anything to her that I wasn’t willing to do myself. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to cause her any pain or suffering. I mean, they say it’s just like sleep, and now I know that’s true, but I needed to know for sure.”

  The room had fallen silent since the mention of my mother.

  “Do you all understand what I’m saying? It works! It really works! We might be able to save your grandmother if they can find a cure for Alzheimer’s!”

  “Mom, there’s something you need to know,” Nancy began.

  “What?” A cold weight formed inside my gut. “Is Mom ok? Have you checked on her?”

  “She’s…” Nancy’s voice choked.

  ‘Mom,” Mark said, “Grandma passed away the day after Christmas. We spent it with her because you were asleep. Natural causes, they said. She died in her sleep.”

  “No,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have left her.” Tears filled my eyes. “At least she went peacefully. She didn’t know the difference anymore.”

  “She asked for you.”

  “She did what?”

  “Christmas Day, when we all gathered to visit her at the home, she looked around at all of us and asked, ‘Where’s Carol? She usually visits me every day. It’s so strange that you are all here but she isn’t’. We tried to explain to her where you were, but she didn’t understand. She just kept commenting how strange it was that you weren’t there.”

  New Reality

  Sweat beaded on Saul's forehead. Being summoned to a meeting with the executives seldom meant good news. After thirty-seven years in the business, one would think he'd be used to it, but he'd never managed to shake the sense of impending doom he felt before every meeting. His fingers closed around the small cylindrical container in his pocket and resisted the urge. Xanax would dull the panic, but he needed to remain sharp when meeting with those piranhas.

  * * *

  Zorn reminded him of a bullfrog on Botox. His closed mouth, thin-lipped smile stretched impossibly wide across a face much too smooth for a man his size. He overflowed his chair like Jabba the Hutt crammed into an Armani suit. Saul half expected a long tongue to zip out of his mouth and snatch up a fly.

  I'm that fly, he thought with a shiver.

  His partner, Tang, was no less intimidating in spite of his slight frame. His hollow cheekbones and gaunt jawline displayed the lines of his skull beneath his taut grey skin. His dark eyes spoke no compassion, only cruelty.

  "First of all," Zorn began, "We'd like to congratulate you on the best rated season in history. You've really outdone yourself with this new leading man you've cast. Half the viewers love him, and half the viewers despise him, but nobody can stop watching him. He's caused riots, violence between viewers and even some deaths. It has been..." Zorn paused to wet his lips and Saul shuddered. "Utterly delicious," he finished. Tang nodded in agreement.

  "Th-thank you," Saul stammered.

  Zorn silenced him with a wave of his pudgy hand. "Save it. I wasn't finished." He leaned back in his chair and stretched, testing the seams of his already-stressed jacket. "That said, we will not be renewing the show when the last season finishes."

  "What? Why? I don't understand. You just said this was the most exciting season in history!"

  "Exactly. The show has reached a plateau. It has nowhere to go but down from here. We are currently in negotiations to launch a new reality show elsewhere with a new cast. We are considering that Russian actor for the lead role."

  "The one from my show? But he’s practically an extra! The only thing that even put him on the map was his relationship with our leading man. The one I cast personally. My guy is a star. He's the reason the show is number one worldwide."

  "We aren't disputing that fact, Mr. Levinstein. You brought us a winner when you cast him, and believe me, we had our doubts in his abilities. His acting is dreadful and he's come dangerously close to revealing our secret on numerous occasions with all his rambling about ratings. He really needs to watch his tongue. You are aware, of course, what will happen if viewers learn our show isn't real."

  Tang's eyes sparkled like chips of obsidian and the corners of his mouth twitched with a hint of a smile at his partner's implication.

  Saul stared at his shoes. If the viewing public discovered their secret, the only option was immediate cancellation. Not of just the show, but everything. Every damn thing.

  "I understand, sir," Saul said. "I promise I will have a word with him. There will be no more slips of the tongue."

  "No, there will not be. The next will be his last."

  "What if I promise you someone even better next time? Would you renew us for another eight seasons?" Saul knew he was grasping at straws, but straws were all he had left to salvage his career... his very life.

  "Of course. But we know for a fact that you can't. You will never find a candidate to top the one currently in office. In fact, we're willing to bet on it "

  "Then place your bets. I will deliver to you the most dysfunctional presidential candidate the world has ever seen. The current star will look ordinary by comparison. If not, then I will retire from the reality show business forever and you can take the show in a new direction with the cast of your choice. Do we have a wager, gentlemen?"

  "I do enjoy a gamble, Mr. Levinstein,” Tang said, “Even one I am confident I will win. What say you, Mr. Zorn?"

  Zorn nodded. "It's a bet. Eight new seasons against your directing career. But if you lose," he waggled a bulbous finger in Saul's direction, "You will retire not only from the reality show business, but show business altogether. You will never direct anything again. Not movies, not game shows, not even fucking traffic! Got it?"

  "Got it." Saul knew the consequences of disobedience. But he'd had a long and prosperous career. It was worth the risk if he could make this last shot count, and he had a plan.

  * * *

  After Saul left the boardroom, Tang scrat
ched his chin, loosening the taut skin before sliding his face over the back of his head. Zorn followed suit, removing his human mask to reveal the reptilian head beneath.

  Zorn stretched his jaw. "Damn, these things make me sweat. Don't think I'll ever get used to them."

  Tang regarded his partner, translucent eyelids blinking sideways over vertical pupils. "The Russian, Zorn? Where the hell did you come up with that one? We both know the guy is only an extra, and will never be more than that."

  "I have no intention of using him. But we're only halfway through our biggest eight season run in history and it wouldn't do for our star director to panic and blow the whistle on the whole operation. We can't change directors halfway through without risking ratings. He has chemistry with the leading man, and lord knows that guy needs someone who can rein him in."

  "And when he loses the bet, then what?"

  "We cancel and move location. I already have scouts on several possible planets. We'll observe while this show runs its course and choose the one with the most unstable population."

  "Who do you think he'll come up with?" Tang asked.

  "I'm thinking he's got nothing. But I'm curious to see how it plays out. Maybe our friend Saul will surprise us."

  “Do you think this planet would even survive another eight seasons?”

  “Not likely. We’ve depleted this rock. When we vaporize it we’ll be doing it a kindness.”

  “Not that it matters. He will never find anyone to top our current leading man.”

  * * *

  Walking to his car, Saul pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and placed a call.

  “Saul Levinstein, Central Casting here. I have the opportunity of a lifetime for one of your guys. Who do you have currently on death row?”

  Pod People: Invasion of the Laundry Zombies

  Ernest sat up in bed. “ You hear that?”

  Louise looked up from her book. “What’s that, dear?”

  “There it is again! It’s the basement door. It’s those damn zombies.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just the wind.”

  “Wind my ass!” Ernest muttered, glancing at the shotgun leaning against the wall in the corner of the bedroom. These days he kept both barrels loaded, just in case. “It’s zombies, I tell ya! I thought I told you to get rid of those fucking laundry pods.”

  The door rattled again. Ernest had installed sturdy new locks, but they would never give up as long as what they desired lay on the other side of the door.

  “Dammit, Louise! This is your fault!”

  Louise peered at him over the rims of her glasses. “Seriously, Ern? And what do you expect me to do with them? Just throw them away? I paid good money for those, and I can’t buy them anymore. I’m not going to throw away perfectly good products! Besides, they get the laundry so clean and bright!”

  “Clean and bright isn’t worth risking our lives.”

  Louise gave him one of those looks reserved for naive children and simpletons. “Isn’t it? Stain-free clothes are worth a little risk. Don’t be a coward, Ernest.”

  Ernest opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He knew when he was licked.

  “Ok, fine, use them up then. How many are left?”

  “I bought the Mega Pack from Costco. I got in on the sale just before they pulled them from the shelves. It was one of the last ones, and I was lucky to get it. People are so rude. Fighting, clawing, just to save a few dollars.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing you were doing?” Ernest pointed out.

  Louise shrugged. “Well, I got them, so I’ll be damned if I’m just going to throw them away.” She sighed. “I’m sure going to miss those things. They get the laundry so clean and bright.”

  * * *

  What had started as a stupid YouTube stunt turned into a disaster of epidemic proportions. The idiots who ate Tide laundry pods experienced unfortunate side effects from the chemicals contained in the detergent. Brain function slowed. These individuals, clearly short on brains to begin with, became shambling, babbling shells of their former selves. (one still might argue that it was an improvement) The other, more disturbing effect was the hunger. The Pod People craved the colorful packets of toxin and would go to any lengths to obtain them. They possessed an uncanny ability to sniff them out. Stores stopped selling the detergent after the first few weeks of the epidemic to stop the looting. Citizens were ordered to turn their Tide Pods over to authorities. Anyone found with the pods in their possession would not be eligible for police protection in the event of zombie attack. Attacks were the biggest concern, because bites were the way the plague was spread. And Pod People were bitey little fuckers. They were faster than they looked, in spite of their shuffling gait, and inordinately tenacious when focused on something they wanted – that something being Tide Pods, of course. A bite from one of the Pod People would transfer the toxins that flowed through their veins. Victims of bites began to crave laundry pods, overcome with an irresistible urge to eat them. If not apprehended and incarcerated, they wouldn’t rest until they found and ate some of the detergent. Over time, brain damage set in, transforming them from desperate junkies into shuffling, mumbling zombies. Pod junkies were more dangerous than full-fledged zombies because they still retained some of their (albeit limited) intelligence and still looked like regular people, aside from their desperate, pod-craving behavior. They were also contagious; a bite or scratch from a pod junkie was all it took to spread the addiction.

  * * *

  And now someone was trying to open the basement door, attracted by the scent of those godfucked laundry pods Louise was so bloody insistent on keeping. Ernest hoped it was just a zombie and not a junkie. Pod junkies were crafty enough to find a way past a locked door. Zombies just bumped against the door like a trapped Roomba until something else caught their attention. Either way, Ernest knew he was in for another sleepless night. He checked his guns to reassure himself they were loaded, and prayed the locks would hold.

  * * *

  The next night Ernest awoke sitting in his recliner, where he’d dozed off while watching TV. He heard a sound in the laundry room downstairs. He raced to the bedroom to grab his shotgun. The locks hadn’t held after all. One of the bastards had gotten in and from the sound of it, was in the laundry room chowing down on Tide Pods.

  A fucking pod junkie.

  Ernest cussed silently and crept toward the sound, shotgun at the ready. The hunched figure in the laundry room had its back to Ernest. He raised the gun and clicked the safety off. The junkie stopped munching and turned to face him, streaks of blue and orange running down its chin.

  “Clean and bright!” Louise giggled. “Yummy! And they make everything clean and bright!”

  Louise wiped an arm across her mouth and Ernest saw the deep red scratches on the underside of her arm. The scuffle at Costco had yielded more than just a bargain on detergent.

  “Join me, Ern. It’s Heaven! Heaven, I tell you!”

  “Stay back, Louise. Don’t make me – ”

  Louise lunged at Ernest and he squeezed the trigger.

  The Dark Side of the World

  Snippets of conversation and laughter drifted through the brisk air. The shadowy figure observed from a distance as the small family huddled around the fire. The stranger had been watching them for what felt like days, scavenging their scraps for survival, hesitant to come out of hiding despite the group’s benign appearance. Things were not always what they seemed on an unknown planet.

  The ship had exploded following the crash, destroying the navigational equipment and anything else that might have provided a clue as to where this place was. It was a stroke of luck to have escaped the wreck alive, and landed on a planet with a breathable atmosphere.

  It was an eerie land, cloaked in twilight, with sunlight visible on the horizon. The stranger had been walking toward the light when the ramshackle settlement came into view. Why did these people choose to live out here in the darkness, instead of closer to t
he light? The question needed an answer, before further travel in that direction was attempted.

  The stranger strode into the camp.

  * * *

  Aaron pinched his sister’s arm. “I saw that. Quit hoarding the protein pods. I want some too!”

  Lucy squealed and slapped his hand away. “Stop that! I wasn’t done yet!”

  “Both of you stop it!” their mother scolded. “We do not fight over food.”

  Preoccupied with bickering, none of them noticed the stranger striding into their midst until the crunch of gravel underfoot caught their attention.

  Donna’s eyes widened at the sight of the shadowy figure. She scrambled backwards, shoving her children behind her.

  The stranger reached a hand into a jacket pocket, withdrew a small device and aimed it at Donna.

  “Please don’t hurt us!” she pleaded. “Take whatever you want. We don’t have much, but it’s yours if you spare our lives. Please! Kill me if you have to, just don’t hurt my children!”

  The stranger lowered the device and removed the battered helmet from her head. She smiled at Donna.

  “Looks like I won’t need this thing,” she said, placing the translator back in her pocket. “I’m not going to hurt you. I am lost on this world and in need of help.”

  The woman’s age was difficult to guess; she looked middle-aged, yet her athletic, muscular physique gave her a youthful appearance. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense, but no less striking. Tattoos snaked up her neck, over her cheek and one side of her half-bald scalp like alien tentacles. Silver hair cascaded to her opposite shoulder. Metal rings glittered in her nose, ears and lips. A thick lens covered one of her eyes, held in place by metallic bands embedded in her flesh.

  “Go and get your father,” Donna whispered to Lucy, shooing her toward the cluster of tents and shacks.

  Aaron knew it was rude to stare, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fascinating stranger.