Black Water

by S. D. Rudd

  Another faint clacking reached out from the distance and then stopped. Sounded far away but the house was huge. Even then, the creature always seemed distant until she would make that sudden move. Then it would be on top of her before she could scream for help one good time. She felt heat all over her back, which was against the old wooden stairs. Any minute she expected something searing to rip into her body as a testament to the creatures’ authority. Her heart pounded again, her palms moist and slippery…it was hard for her to breath.

  Panic.

  Her body plagued with an uncontrollable quake. She couldn’t stop the shaking…and she couldn’t stop the slip of little noises that accompanied the birth of terror.

  Suddenly, a burst of clacking reached out to her from upstairs and she almost lost it, nearly bolting toward the darkened white silhouette of a door on the wall dozens of feet in front of her. Closer, she heard it closer, yet again stopping, this time for a longer period. It was on to her. The creature knew where she was and was playing cat and mouse with her. Mind games. This wasn’t worth it, she thought, she’d better go back.

  She closed her eyes and started to turn toward the stairs, planning to make that surrendering climb up before she further aggravated the creature. When she was about faced, she positioned herself and took one quiet deep breath. She slowly opened her eyes—and shockwaves rippled through her body! Her heart sank into her toes at the yellow eyes narrowed at her, inches from her face. She flinched hard enough to throw her back out.

  Once her mind could take no more of the terror, she blacked out.

  FIVE

  ALAN CHARMS SAW his father Ian out bird watching for sport as he parked the Hummer behind Ian’s Rolls Royce. The 25,000 square foot contemporary mansion, resting on twenty-one acres of green land, had under a dozen abandoned vehicles crowding the loop. Three of them he recognized were his brothers, and two of them his sisters. None of the others rung a bell except for the late model 360 Modena Spyder.Silver.

  Shawn Ramsey.

  He cringed at the way his name sounded in his head.

  Should have known he’d be here, he thought.

  Alan would never forget the man who had helped build his father’s empire and made Ian richer than dirt, mostly because the man was obnoxious and swollen with pride. It was like his father to befriend such a fowl human being. But business was business, honor was given where honor was due…and it was payday. It was payday for all of Ian’s business associates. Every diluted soul clamored for recognition, each one expecting, in secret, to be dubbed the lone source of the success of AIMS Corp, Artificially Intelligent Machine System, a Fortune 500 company founded by Ian Charms.

  Alan marveled at how fast technology had altered since his father created the first intelligent machine. He remembered his father starting with a toaster oven that was voice activated and could make toast to specification through voice recognition. In rare occasions when the commands could not be understood, because the user did not speak with clarity, the toaster would convey questions in which to confirm orders.

  Although the toaster never got pass the prototype, never got commercialized, it was the neo of the now worldwide AIMS Corp phenomenon, leading to intelligent watches, intelligent cars, intelligent homes, and, the most revolutionized, intelligent offices. Granted, employees were needed in similar capacity as before the revolution but their job description was simplified by far. Secretaries and switchboard operators would not have to answer phones but they had to make calls, although physically picking up the phone and dialing was now obsolete.

  The secretary now spoke into her headset, ordering the system to locate and call whomever at whatever time was convenient. After all, customers still craved that personal feel that only resulted from human interaction rather than a robotic, preprogrammed conversation. The AIMS system was programmed with over seven hundred thousand words, including slang’s, in twelve different dialects. An encyclopedia, dictionary, thesaurus, and over twenty million phrases were incorporated into the system.

  Ian’s dream was to simplify life and boost the economy. Which is what he did. Life was simplified even down to the intelligent security.

  While human interaction was still a necessity, intelligent security made their jobs easier. If a stranger passed through the metal detectors armed, AIMS would scan his frame, locate the very outline of the gun for confirmation, and shoot him with a tranquilizer dart, leaving him drowsy until security could apprehend him.

  AIMS was programmed to recognize secret service men, law officers, and federal officials licensed to bare arms for public safety.

  With all the technological advancements, the landscape of counties and cities and small towns did not change much over the years. Cars and trucks and motorbikes were not hovering as many predicted by the year 2021. The day of the Jetson’s had not arrive, life remained a chaotic normalcy, wars ravaged in the Middle East, homelessness was still one the rise, poverty infested thrice as many souls. AIDS was still an epidemic, human cloning was being researched, illegally, but in secret locations. Black marketers kept a strain on honest businesses, atheists clamored and rallied to end all religion, or at least unify them. Bitter politicians fought over territory and issues like a pack of Australian Dingoes and one marked tree.

  When Alan considered everything, after the lunch with Monica Brookes the other day, a childhood friend he had grown to love as more, he knew she was thinking right. With all the selfish desire and ambition prevalent in the world, technology increasing that lust, where was there room for Truth? Where was there room for what was right? There was none. Only for money and image and new territory and self desireand power and church growth and recognition and manipulation and fornication and separation…and sin.

  Sad to say that, with all his judgmental ways, Alan was the worst of them all. The things he’d done, the people he’d hurt…he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. This meeting with his father wasn’t about him. And as Ian seemed to notice him without taking his eyes from the binoculars, Alan’s questions only magnified.

  “Orange and black,” Ian said still peering through his binoculars, gazing upon Orioles. “We’re not even in Baltimore.” Ian had always invented jokes that no one laughed at so it was not taken wrong when Alan missed the punch line. Ian took them away from his eyes and sighed. “These birds have no worries. None at all.” He released another sigh, shaking his head at the thought. “Alan, do you ever wonder why birds never seem to worry?”

  Of course Alan knew the question was rhetorical. Yet, he found himself curious of what answer his father might have discovered. For Ian to disappoint him with words void of wisdom was a rare occasion. With every visit Alan was able to learn something from the man. Deep inside he held a great sense of respect for his father, although he would never say it. It didn’t change how he felt though.

  Ian brought his binoculars low enough to gaze out into the field without looking through them. “It’s quite informative, actually,” he said. “Synchronization.”

  Ian shook his head as if that were a shocking revelation. Then he put the binoculars back to his eyes.

  “And numbers,” he said. “They always fly in packs, especially just before a storm. When they graze the field in search of food? Packs. Even if they only find food for themselves or for their own chicks it is done in packs. In fact, you will never see them do too many things without each other. It’s a society where every creature has one goal, one agenda, and they set out to accomplish the both of them together.”

  By this Alan knew there was a hidden message for him. Alan was always an introvert. A loner. Not because he was hard to get along with, but because it was his preference. He figured if there was no one around him then he could never hurt anyone and that no one could ever hurt him. So he stayed to himself and let no one in. Except Monica.

  “You do realize the power of birds, don’t you Alan?”

  Alan refused to respond. He was sick of this topic already and he fought against project tha
t fact. If he’d let his father talk long enough he’d avoid this issue again and get to the point of his visit.

  Ian continued as usual, undeterred by Alan’s silence. “Yes,” he said. “Of course you do.” Then he answered it as if he’d expected Alan to not cooperate. “Synchronization,” Ian said. “Their power comes from their synchronization. Order. It’s not enough to have a large number. A large number without any order is far less effective than going in it alone. It only breeds calamity.” Then he put it bluntly when he said, “which is why I understand you do not visit much.”

  Alan was caught of guard but he had to give a quick response to keep up appearances. “I never said that.”

  “It is also my understanding that you don’t speak your mind either.”

  He had no response for the truth.

  “Your siblings love you, Alan, I don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

  “They’re in love with themselves,” Alan spat out.

  “They are only concerned with your wellbeing.”

  “They only concerned with my share of the inheritance since I’m having a hard time taking it.”

  Ian looked at him, steadying the binoculars at eye level. “Is that what you believe, son? That they’re greedy for gain? Have you forgotten who you are and who they are to you? This is your own flesh and blood! They’ve done no ill to you.”

  “It’s not what they do but how they look at me. It’s like they don’t respect me at all.”

  “Merely in your own imagination.”

  “It’s not!” Alan said. He took a deep breath and slowed his breathing. “It’s not,” he repeated. “I like to think of myself as a people expert. I study their behavior and learn their hearts through what I see…or don’t see.”

  Putting them back to his face, “and you see evil intent in the midst of a tightly knitted family who does everything together and coordinates daily with one another.”

  Ian got to him right there. Alan would never let him know that although Alan’s silence gave away his secret. His father rendered him speechless. Even with this Alan knew his assumptions were right. His family did despise him. Maybe not his father, but definitely his brothers and sisters. Once he was accused of thinking he was too good to accept his stake in the family fortune. But that didn’t make sense, not even to Alan. Why would he think that? How could he?

  They were all on the same level economically, socially, intellectually and any other “ly” he could think of. Even if they weren’t, even if he were on a “higher” level in all these areas, there was still one thing that made everyone equal.

  They were all human.

  “I just wanna make it on my own steam,” Alan finally said. “Is that any less honorable than taking a handout?”

  Taking them from his eyes again, “It’s not a handout, son. It’s your right of ownership.”

  So after years of trying to get through, this was the first time Ian broke through Alan’s defense system. The only reason it remained fortified was that Alan knew how dangerous he had become. The things he did would likely catch up with him. Who he was, who they knew him as, has changed.

  Ian didn’t know that.

  He couldn’t possibly know that.

  But Monica…he pushed everything aside and went back to the first thing that came to mind when he arrived there.

  “Why is Shawn here?”

  A long hesitation. “Doctor Ramsey was invited.”

  “You mean he invited himself.”

  Ian grinned knowingly.

  “He must be entertaining himself too.”

  “He needs no chaperone, son.” Putting the binoculars to his eyes. “I trust you have a purpose?”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t just drop by to say ‘hi’ to my dad.”

  “On a normal day...I'd believe you.”

  Alan got the gist. A couple of crows lifted from the grass and flocked to a nearby cornfield to feast on some unsuspecting farmers’ livelihood. “You can’t tell me you put your full trust in the network,” Alan probed. “That would be shooting your own foot and then trying to remove the bullet with a butter knife. No sterilization.”

  Without taking away his binoculars, “I’m not prone to their expected uses of leverage to gain access to my estate, if that’s what you’re getting at. You know, son, I’ve been in business a little longer than the numbers present in your age.”

  Point taken. “Rumor has it that Shawn’s got his hands in too many cookie jars. You heard this before?”

  “Indeed.”

  “This doesn’t alarm you?”

  “Nothing alarms me, Alan. That’s the purpose of the network. If one part of the system fails you are able to cut it off and prevent a system crash, while you search for a suitable replacement.”

  So, Ian did know about it. He was smarter than Alan had thought which shouldn’t have come as a big shock. Now for the tough questions. “What do you know about Keith Solomon?”

  That seemed to get Ian’s attention. He lowered the binoculars and searched the grass for a response. “Very little, son.”

  “Well, he seems to know a lot about you.”

  For the first time Alan noticed his father’s discomfort. Ian was neither prone to intimidation nor tenacity. So when his face displayed a struggle for words Alan knew something big was going down and his father knew something about it.

  “Is there some sort of building project you have going on with him?”

  “I fail to see its relevancy if there was one.”

  “Because I thought you built AIMS Corp to stimulate the economy and to enhance life, not to tear it down.”

  “I’ve won many an award for the greatness and effectiveness of my corporation, not just in America, but in the world. So, where ever you are getting at makes no sense.”

  “I already know that Solomon is a weapons specialist for the US government, dad.”

  Ian’s body stiffened. Barely noticeable to most but Alan knew him well. “Who told you this?” he demanded.

  “Just answer the question…are you building something for him?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  Alan knew he was lying. “How does he know you? Where did he come from? Who is he dealing with?”

  Ian paused, appearing bewildered. “What are you a private investigator now?”

  “No,” Alan said. Calming down, “I’m just a concerned son, that’s all.” He took a deep sigh, feeling bad for throwing his father into the hot seat. “Look…I’m sorry…I…”

  “No offense taken,” he said. Ian put the binoculars to his eyes again but then ripped them away and glared at Alan a short moment, as if trying to figure out how to say it. Then he said, “What do you do for a living anyway?”

  SIX

  “THE NEVER FOUND his body,” Monica Brookes said. She placed her dinner fork that had been licked clean onto her half empty plate of lasagna.

  Alan Charms sat across her zoned out. Thinking. About what he was going to do after he got out of this chilly Italian dinner restaurant; what he needed to do was cut the grass in his backyard. It was two acres of land. Then the laundry needed to be done and he needed to wash the hard water stains from excessive rain from some of his cars.

  But, what he would do instead would be to crash on the sofa and watch football.

  It was Sunday.

  The Redskins were having a winning season, for a change, and he hadn’t had a chance to watch a whole game without something or someone interrupting his down time all season. He was determined to accomplish this mission today.

  Even if it meant cutting the phone lines and barricading the doors.

  “That can get kind of complicated, you know?” Monica said. “But then again…when you add sex to the equation, everything gets complicated. Kind of confusing.”

  What in the world was she talking about, he thought.

  He struggled to get a bead on how the topic had evolved. Sex? This was definitely not one of the usual topics. Instead of appearing
confused and drawing attention to his lack of interest, he decided to let her talk it out until it made some sense.

  Only that was the end. She was silent after those words. Nothing came out of her mouth for a moment and Alan knew she was waiting for an informed reflection. He had to think of something fast.

  “What’s so complicated about that?” was the best he could do on such short notice.

  She looked up from her plate. Her eyes looked drained yet not as if she were depressed or sleepy.

  “She loved him, Alan. Don’t you see that? She cared more about him than about her own wellbeing. It was to the point of self-negligence for the elevation of the one she loved.

  “When done in moderation and in the proper context, self-sacrificing is a beautiful thing that yields great rewards. If the other person has the same heart. But in her case, he never loved her. He only tolerated her because she was so good to him.

  “He told her what to do, what to wear, how to behave when she was in public with him…stuff that would have driven another woman with a clearer focus away.”

  “He controlled her,” Alan said, playing with his plate of spaghetti again.

  “Right.”

  “And how does sex play a part here again? I’m not understanding that dynamic of the situation.”

  “Are you kidding me? Sex confuses the mind! It magnifies issues that wouldn’t have even mattered before and causes the person to become more emotional when things happen, good or bad. Basically, people start thinking with their heart instead of their head; they use emotion instead of common sense.”

  “You mean like a woman,” he joked.

  She ignored the comment. “Well, the person of whom we speak is a woman so she uses more emotion than logic sometimes. But, often times, emotions fail to present an accurate depiction because its existence is not based on evidence but fulfillment, sometimes a false sense of such.”