AWOL: A Character Lost

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AWOL: A Character Lost Page 12

by Anthony Renfro


  The alien checked the cool compartment, which was still working, and the meat inside was fresh, frozen, and cold. That was a good thing because that meat would fetch a fair price, and the alien had worked really hard to acquire it. Zorg meat was second only to human meat when it came to money. However, nothing equaled the price of one human being. It was their feisty, fighting nature that made them so high in price. Many had died trying to acquire this delicacy. Humans didn’t just roll over and let you filet them.

  The alien retrieved its weapon, which looked like a shotgun; but this shotgun only shot lasers. The yellow one was for stun, best for catching and maintaining freshness, while the red one was for death.

  The alien pushed in the yellow button on the handle and turned its attention towards the cabin-six clangs by his count, twelve miles to you and me-which sat all alone in the woods.

  Goal: Stun the meat first, keep the biggest, and eat the smallest.

  Its stomach growled, as it made its way into the forest with the gun humming, cocked and loaded.

  It was hunting time.

  *

  “Johnny?”

  “Dad?”

  The two of them stood there, unmoving, frozen, a living room gap between them, separated for so long by stories and pages, together at last.

  The character found his legs first and moved across the living room as his son moved towards him. They met in the middle, embraced, and hugged for what seemed like forever.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” the character replied, holding his son tight, and his son, even though he was twelve years old, allowed it.

  “Where have you been, dad? I was so lost and scared. I kept finding myself in all of these strange places, but now I can’t remember a single one of them. It’s like a long dream. You know you were in it when you wake up, but you can’t remember anything about it.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve been feeling the same way.” They stood there a moment longer before the character broke their embrace. “Take a seat by the fire. You look cold.”

  Johnny did as his dad asked. While he sat there, he looked around the room. “This place looks so familiar. It’s like I’ve been here before, but the colors and designs are all wrong.”

  “I know,” the character replied.

  “What happens if the owner of this place comes back?”

  “I have a feeling the owner won’t be coming back.” The character hoped he was right about that, but a stocked fireplace and a clean cabin meant someone had been here recently. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved,” Johnny replied, eyes on the fire.

  “Yeah, what growing boy isn’t, right?”

  The character made his way into the kitchen and began to forage for some food. The refrigerator was well stocked and so were the cabinets, dark rich oak cabinets with round gold handles. The character stood there a moment and let a memory wave wash over him. This was all so real to him. He let the thoughts drift away and then made a couple of sandwiches – ham and cheese, his son’s favorite. Once he was done with that, he threw the sandwiches on a plate, grabbed a bag of chips, a couple of sodas, and back to the couch he went.

  “Plenty of food,” Johnny asked, eyeing the plate.

  “Enough to make me uncomfortable,” the character replied, sitting down beside his son.

  The two of them ate in silence for a moment.

  “Better?” The character asked, as he stared at his son.

  “I could use another.”

  The character looked at his son’s plate, and he saw the sandwich was gone. The character still had about a half left. He gave it to his son who quickly gobbled it down. Still hungry, the two of them worked on the bag of chips, and drank their sodas.

  “The crazy thing about this place is that it reminds me of my grandfather’s cabin. I have been denying it to myself, but I honestly can’t deny it anymore. This has to be the place,” the character replied.

  “That’s what seemed so familiar.” The light finally went off behind his son’s eyes, and he saw it too. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the chips as he talked through them. “When . . .”

  “Chew your food first and then talk,” the character replied.

  His son swallowed, slurped, and then went back to his thought. “What I was saying was that when I arrived here. I tried to figure out what was so familiar about everything. It was the colors and designs that misled me. I hadn’t seen them before.”

  “That’s because, they’re from my past, before it was modernized. This is what it looked like when I was a kid.”

  “So, I have been here before?”

  “Recently, after it was renovated. Don’t ask me how I know all that, but I just know.” He paused, glanced around the room. “It’s like the brain is cloudy and occasionally you pick out things from the murk. Those things keep telling me where I am, but I just don’t want to believe them.”

  The character got up and poked the wood in the fireplace; the fire roared its happiness.

  “Does that mean we are close to home?” Johnny asked.

  The character looked down at his son, still munching chips and slurping his soda. He had no idea how to answer that question.

  *

  Outside in the woods, the alien moved through the trees, to the edge of the clearing that held the cabin. It peered through the bushes and looked at the small structure. From where it was standing, it was looking directly at the front of the cabin, which had two large windows with open shutters on either side of them. A large door sat in between these two windows underneath a porch that went from one end of the cabin to the other. There were four small steps leading up to this porch, a swing in one corner, and a table with two chairs underneath it.

  There was no sign of movement, no sign of armed protection anywhere around the outside of the facility, just the dark forest creeping up to the edges of the wooden cabin walls.

  “Easy in and easy out,” the alien thought, with an empty stomach grumbling.

  With the surveillance done, the alien gripped his gun tight and made his way across the clearing.

  Snow had started to fall.

  *

  The character pulled himself away from his thoughts, unsure how to answer the question; so he directed the conversation another way. “Do you remember home?”

  “I sort of do, sort of don’t.” He burped, finished his soda, and looked back at the kitchen then back to his dad. “Can I get another one?” Johnny held up the can for his dad to see.

  “Sure,” the character replied. He didn’t like his kids to have too much soda, but he thought under the circumstances that it was okay. How did he know he didn’t give his kids too much soda? He really didn’t know, and it was starting to irritate him, like a really bad rash.

  He grabbed a soda from the fridge and started to make his way back to where his son was sitting, watching the red fire crack and pop.

  *

  The alien had decided half-way across the clearing that it should approach this in just one way – full impact. Bust the portal to the house open and go in with the gun firing. Stories of those who had caught and captured humans always had one thing in common. Humans were slow to react in situations that they were quickly tossed into, so if you startled them you were likely to get less of a fight, and an easier chance of catching them.

  The alien trotted up to the porch, and crept up to the door. It could hear rustling and talking coming from inside, but that was it. These humans seemed to be in a peaceful situation. This really could be a very easy job for a tremendous amount of pay.

  The alien smiled, left the porch, and walked half way across the clearing, leaving tracks in the fresh snow. It steadied its nerves, and thought of home, thought of all the riches it would have from this score. This gave it desire, gave it hunger, strength and power, motivation.

  It started off with a slow quick walk, which went to a trot, and then to a full out sprint. It leaped the porch steps and never broke stride.

  *


  The character was almost back to the couch when the alien came busting into the room, door debris and part of the door jamb flying and falling all around it as it slid to a stop, gun aimed and raised.

  The character dropped the soda and froze where he was standing. The soda hit the ground, splashed, and exploded all over the character, and the wall beside him.

  Johnny was also frozen like his dad.

  The alien smiled when it saw them because the stories were true. The alien tightened its grip on the gun and the gun hummed, ready to fire.

  Moments ticked off the clock – it was a momentary stand off.

  “Run!” The character screamed, finally realizing the danger.

  Johnny broke his frozen stare, rolled off the couch, into the coffee table (shattering it), and then onto the floor.

  The alien blasted a yellow laser right above Johnny’s head as the kid got up, and ran for the safety of the bedroom. The laser shattered part of a wall, busted out a window, and destroyed the table and chairs on the porch when it missed its mark.

  The character grabbed a small table and tossed it at the alien as it turned to fire on him. The alien ducked as the table went sailing over its head and bounced off the wall. The alien kept its hunter cool and rose back up. It aimed at the character and fired.

  The yellow laser missed its mark, as the character ducked. The laser exploded in the kitchen, destroying the sink, most of the cabinets around it, and the wall. Canned food items sailed out of the cabinets and into the clearing outside. They came to rest in various spots on the snowy ground as a steady stream of water shot up out of the broken sink and flooded the counter and floor.

  The alien knew where the character was going as the character took off for the bedroom where his son was now safely secured. The alien leaped across the couch with cat-like agility and nearly reached the bedroom door, but the character was just a tick quicker. He managed to get into the room and shut the door before the alien reached it. The alien slammed face first into the hard piece of wood, unable to stop in time, and then stumbled backwards. It stopped, and stood there for a second, shaking off the momentary stars. It could hear the two of them moving around inside, pushing something up against the door. It decided to find another way in.

  *

  The character sat down on the bed, which was now in front of the door to the bedroom. He felt confident they were safe for now, but not so confident that he let his guard down. They still needed to cover the window, in case the thing decided to come in that way. He tried to remember something, as he sat there. Did the cabin have shutters attached to it, shutters that could be closed during the most violent of storms? He was pretty sure it did.

  The character got up, and walked across the room to the half-open window. He peered outside. The snow was falling heavy, and the darkness of the night pushed against the window like it was trying to get inside, trying to shut out the light. The character turned back to his son. “There should be a key hole in the door big enough to see through. Can you look through it and see if that thing is still there?”

  “Seriously?”

  “If it is still there then I know I have time to open the window, lean out, grab the shutters, and slam them closed, if they are not locked in place.”

  “Nope, not doing that.”

  “Look Johnny, I need you right now. You have to find some strength to do this, or we might not make it out.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Look, son, this is no longer a request. I need you to do it. Now move!”

  Johnny did as his dad asked because when his father got upset, his father didn’t play games. Johnny climbed onto the bed, and found his courage. He was sure there would be an eyeball staring right back at him when he peered through the key hole, but there wasn’t. There was nothing at all to be seen.

  “It’s clear,” Johnny replied, pulling his face away like it had just been burned. He hoped he would never have to do that again in his lifetime. That was way too intense for his young system.

  “Shit,” the character replied, because he knew what emptiness meant. The thing was probably outside and on its way over to this window.

  “Should I open the door and look out? I don’t hear anything moving around out there.” Johnny really didn’t want to do this, but he would if it was requested of him.

  “No, just come back here. Stay close to me.”

  Johnny moved over to where his dad was standing, as his dad grabbed the bottom of the window and opened it. He listened for movement, any signs of their intruder.

  No sounds, nothing, stillness, even the forest animals had fallen silent as if they knew something was lurking within their presence, something not from this world. He drew in a deep breath of cool air and exhaled it in a plum of white. He started to lean out when a hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to face his son.

  “Wait!”

  “What Johnny?”

  “What if it’s out there?”

  “It probably is.”

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  “We have no choice. We have to secure the window.”

  “Hold on.”

  “What? I really need to do this.”

  Johnny rummaged around for a moment trying to find a weapon. There was nothing they could use, but the rod in the closet. He broke it in half and brought part of it back over to where his dad was standing.

  The character looked at the closet rod in his son’s hands. He was gripping it like a baseball bat, smooth end pointed down, sharp jagged broken end pointed up.

  “Just in case, dad.”

  “Are you ready now?”

  Johnny took his stance and nodded.

  The character turned to the window and listened again. There was nothing to be heard, so he leaned out, and didn’t linger. He pulled himself quickly back into the room and slammed the window shut. “They’re locked to the wall. We would need to go outside in order to unlock them.”

  “No way, the key hole was one thing, but this is – no, not going to do it.”

  “Let me finish. I was going to say I don’t think it is worth the risk. The door is blocked, and we can see the entire room. All we have to do is worry about this window.”

  Johnny seemed to be okay with that as he released his grip on the weapon and tossed it onto the bed.

  “Now we need to . . .” The character stopped and looked up at the ceiling. He thought he heard something.

  “What’s that, dad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They both were now staring at the ceiling as the sound of wood being burned fell into their ears and a smoky smell found their noses. A hole started to form, round, jagged, and crude. The character and his son didn’t say a word to each other; they just grabbed the bed, and yanked it out of the way. The character then flung the door open as a big chunk of the ceiling fell into the room, crashing hard into the floor, sending snow and wood debris flying. The alien leaped down a second later with the gun pointed towards them. As it fell, it fired; and this time it didn’t miss.

  The character felt a tingling sensation rush over him, like a thousand electric ants had decided to go on the attack. He was losing feeling in his legs, and soon he would have to lie down. The bed, all he wanted was the bed. Like a zombie, he walked towards it, as the alien smiled, first piece of meat secured.

  Johnny, who had made it close to the front door, stopped. He realized his dad wasn’t behind him. He turned and saw the alien step out of the bedroom. The alien fired before Johnny could react. The laser reached him and stunned him. Johnny began to slip away.

  In the bedroom, the character fell forward onto the bed. The springs squeaked and bounced from the dead weight, then settled.

  The character blinked a couple of times and then his eyes closed. He felt himself falling, tumbling, and spinning into some other world.

  *

  The character woke up on a bed, but he wasn’t face down, he was face up. Lights raced across the ceiling as a car
drove by on the street. He heard his oldest son yell out down the hall. It sounded like he was waking up from a nightmare. Then he heard his youngest son do the same. The character tried to register all this, but in his sleep riddled mind confusion was creating chaos in his brain. Someone stirred beside him. He could feel her warmth, smell her sweet female scents, and safety, he felt safety as he lay beside her.

  “Danny. The kids are up.”

  He heard his name, and it sounded foreign to him. Why did it sound foreign? He didn’t know. He just knew that he had been lost in a nightmare, but now he was waking up. Waking up from what seemed like a long ago dream.

  “Are you okay?” Sweet warm breath on his ear, comfort in her touch as she noticed something was wrong.

  “I’m fine, bad dream.”

  “Sounds like a dozy.”

  “It was.” Danny sat up and put his feet on the floor. He looked at the soft white carpet, the furniture, the world around him. This was home. “I’ll go check on the kids.”

  “We’ll talk when you get back.”

  “Not sure I remember enough about it to talk about it.”

  “You must remember something.”

  “I remember being lost and being at my grandfather’s cabin with Johnny. That’s it.” He paused and looked at her. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  He got up and shuffled towards the door.

  Dawn’s early light was crawling out of the darkness and greeting the world at large as Danny stepped out into the hallway, stopped in front of the mirror, and shook the dream cobwebs from his head. He was sure something strange had happened in those dreams, but all he could remember about them was his grandfather’s cabin; and even that memory was fading, shimmering off into the distance.

  He stood there a moment and looked at himself. He had shoulder length dark hair that had grey streaks in it, and he wore a goatee around his mouth. He was fit and muscular, wearing a pair of boxer shorts with hearts on them and a tee-shirt that had “Stud Muffin” written on it in big red letters. Below the centered lettering on the shirt was the imprint of a muffin with two arms sticking out of it, flexing muscles no muffin should ever have, even if it was chocolate chip, the toughest of all the muffins in the muffin kingdom.

 

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