One thing that did bring Douglas happiness was scoring big. Small time thievery was for amateurs and not worthy of his time. Twenty years in the pen had taught him to be patient. If he was going to risk his freedom, it was going to be a big deal that would pull in enough cash to last the rest of his life.
Oh, he would still farm. Farming had been another talent he’d possessed and didn’t know until he moved to Missouri. Working in the soil, planting seeds, watching the plants grow, keeping the weeds out; farming gave him something to do. The soil in his area was exceptionally rich. Selling fresh vegetables to the local grocery stores kept a steady supply of income. Just a little more, though, than he needed to cover keeping the farm going, paying electricity and tax, and his whiskey bill he’d ring up often at a dive bar named Lost Times.
The twenty grand pile had dwindled greatly getting the farm back up to speed. It took five thousand dollars to get the old tractor on the place up to operational condition. Replacing the tires and repairing the engine and transmission would have cost him a lot more if he hadn’t met a guy at Lost Times, who did it on the side after working his day job. The fifteen-year-old truck he bought to get around in, cost eight thousand.
Douglas didn’t want to give up farm life, but he did want to do a little bit of traveling before he got too old to take care of himself. Nothing too extravagant. He had always wanted to visit iconic places like Hoover Dam, the Grand Canyon, and Niagra Falls. Maybe even stop off in one of those places near Las Vegas where you could order a woman off a menu. His bucket list wasn’t long but flying, hotels, eating out every day, and paying for taxis was going to cost a bundle.
A bundle he didn’t have but knew how to get. In order for his plan to work, he had to be cool, exercise patience, once again, and masterfully execute a flawless plan that would set him for life. Douglas had the skills. He had done his homework. He had set a plan in motion that had already accomplished fifty percent of his goal. Soon, his plan would come to a conclusion. Years in prison would finally pay off.
The World Wide Web was a wonderful place. You could buy practically anything online and never have to leave the comfort of home, because it would be delivered to your doorstep. Of course, there were certain restrictions on what you could legally purchase. That is, unless you knew your away around the web. Really, really, knew your way around the web. Because beyond Google and Bing, Amazon and eBay, there were other places the curious, the adventurist, could go. Places shunned by the good people of the local Baptist Church or the lawmakers of city hall. Douglas had found the Deep Web. Within the Deep Web, he found the Dark Web. Darknets made up the Dark Web. The Dark Web provided the ultimate shopping market for anything, and anything did mean anything, to those who had the means to purchase the illegal or extravagant excess.
Douglas’ endeavor, though well-planned, was too difficult for him to execute alone. Fortunately, the acquaintance who had rebuilt his tractor proved to be a simple and trustworthy man. The man wasn’t very bright, despite his mechanic skills. But he had been ignored most of his life and was in need of a friend. A friend that he didn’t want to disappoint. A friend that treated him with respect and praise. A friend with a plan to make a large sum of money and share it with him.
Dougie Douglas was that friend.
A murder of crows squatting in a big maple erupted from their haunt in a mass of black, cawing in protest of whatever disturbed their rest, far beyond the barn.
Douglas shifted his gaze from his mind’s eye and scanned the four acres of his garden. The land just behind his house was flat enough to more than double the size of his crop production if he wanted. But keeping up with four acres by himself was the best he could do. The property totaled thirty acres in all. The remaining land blended in with the other mighty trees of the neighboring national forest.
Housed near the back of the barn, placed on the southern side in order to provide a little protection from the cold north winds of the winter, something raised the ire of his brood of chickens.
First the crows and now the chickens. Somebody was on his property. It was probably those damn kids again. They had been messing with him of late. He had tried to quickly nip it in the bud, calling the local school and making a threat to shoot anyone he caught. He figured such an extreme reaction would prompt immediate action. Oh, he did get a visit from local police, too. But that had in fact been part of the plan. He wanted to show no fear of the authorities. If he was ever expected of being up to no good, why would he practically invite a call from the police? Douglas had confidence in his plan. He figured causing a distraction might throw a little more fear his way from the townspeople.
The whiskey had found its way to the last drop in the bottom of the glass. Douglas pushed himself up from the rocking chair, feeling a sharp pain in his lower back for his reward in the field. He grabbed his shotgun and laid it on the porch while he sat on the steps and shoved on his boots.
“They better not do something stupid, or I may not try to miss,” he told himself. He brought the long gun across his chest and pushed the safety to the off position. There wasn’t a shell in the chamber, but all it would take was a pull back of the front stock to load one in.
The chickens had quieted by the time he made it to the back of the barn. Douglas’ tired eyes didn’t want to cooperate like they had when they were younger. He found himself making conscious efforts to discern images within his blurred vision. Of late, he had overlooked things he was searching for on a regular basis, even if they were in the drawer he was looking in. A trip to the eye doctor was something he admitted he had put off for too long.
He turned his gaze to the ground. The dirt was drier now, so it would be harder for the culprit to leave tracks. The first time the unwanted visitor, or unwanted visitors, Douglas couldn’t be sure if there had been more than one person who had invaded his property, the ground had been softer due to an earlier drizzle. If it hadn’t been for the tracks, Douglas might have suspected a deer had breached his fence and got into what was remaining of his winter garden and some of the lettuce from his spring garden. But no, it was obvious an animal hadn’t done the damage. The prints left behind were made from shoes. Not just any ordinary shoes, but shoes massive in size. There was no way a conventional shoe had made that print; not even Shaquille O’Neal’s shoe could have been that large. These prints were obviously made with clown shoes epic in size. Douglas remembered seeing a clown at a circus wearing shoes that size once. He wondered then how the man was able to even walk in them.
Something dropped on the top of Douglas’ floppy hat and hit the ground by his feet. He looked down and saw an acorn. Turning his gaze up, there were no trees near, especially not an oak, for the acorn to fall from. Maybe a bird dropped it, he thought. Though, he looked and didn’t see the culprit anywhere. But, his vision wasn’t the best, so where the missile had come from would just have to remain a mystery.
Stepping over to his winter garden, someone had helped themselves to a few more turnips. The large shoe prints were in the area, but Douglas couldn’t be sure if any were fresh or just remnants from the day before. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure why kids would come all the way to his place to steal vegetables. He’d understand if maybe if they egged his house or TPed some trees.
Whoever it was must have been strange. But having a snooper around wasn’t good. No, not good at all. He couldn’t afford to have some prankster spoil his plans. He’d have to go and buy one of those wildlife cameras and set it up to find who was trespassing. He’d do it first thing in the morning. The agitator needed to be brought to justice.
Douglas headed back to the house and laughed to himself at that last thought. Justice, funny how people felt the wrong that they do as permissible, but let someone else try to take the same advantage, and they are in the wrong. It was all just part of human nature, he figured. So were vices. Some people could put limits on the things that tried to own their souls. Some people were weak and couldn’t control themselves. Those
were the people Douglas sought out on the Dark Web. He could make their desires come true, and they would return the favor. To each, his own.
An old green Chevy S-10 with a camper on the bed had pulled up in the back. The driver leaned against the vehicle while letting the sun warm his back. He pulled away to meet Douglas. His hands hid behind the front of his bib overalls.
“How’s it going, Dougie?” the man asked.
“Had a good day. Every day’s a good day when you know you’re going to hit the lottery,” Dougie said. He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and rested the butt of the stock on the ground. He wiped some phlegm from the side of his lips, thinking that another glass of whiskey would be good right now. “Make any progress today?”
The man shrugged. “I got my ears open. We gonna do it like the last time. Take our time. Wait for the opportunity to present itself. Then, bam! We’re in an’ out before you know it.”
“I like a man with confidence,” Dougie said. “Say, you thirsty? I could use a little hootch, and I don’t like to drink alone when I have company.”
The man laughed. “The only other person that comes around is me.”
Dougie closed his left eye and shook his head. “Nah, I got someone poking around here. That needs to stop.”
“Still?”
“Yep.”
“I’m surprised. They sent out emails at the school. Made an announcement over the morning intercom and everything. I figured that would have spooked any kids off,” the man said.
“Not yet, but I’m planning on getting one of those wildlife cameras and catching whoever it is.”
“Good idea,” the man said.
“Com’on, Buddy. Let’s go pour ourselves a stiff one. We can check on the goods a little later on.”
Chapter 12
The Future
The hour was late. Zax had already turned in for the night. The mech-armor had been hooked up to the zero-energy battery for well over twelve hours. Transmetal had a molecular memory. The damaged armor’s atoms realigned to their original specifications.
The grenade launcher was now fully functional, and the supply chamber full. Projectiles for the armor’s blaster was full to the top as well. The mech-armor was one heck of a battle machine. Tarik wished that the Nu-Mans could have the same amount of protection and firepower as he. A transmetal suit large enough to fit them would be huge. That much bulk wouldn’t be able to fit in the two seated jumpers like they used to escape.
Tarik and Lixa sat at the table. Lixa had made some chamomile tea and had poured Tarik a cup. They had talked for nearly two hours nonstop; probably the reason why Zax went to bed a little early. He had little to add to the conversation.
Tarik mostly spoke of his life while growing up on the base and some of the most memorable instructors. Of course, he told a lot of stories that involved Hudson.
Lixa had lived a comfortable, normal life, as the majority of Nu-Mans also enjoyed. Poverty had been eliminated by the Skinks. So had diseases and cancers. Genetic anomalies such as autism, multiple sclerosis, and ALS were conditions humans had suffered. The Nu-Mans knew nothing but good general health.
The Skinks maintained the social norm of an economy. All Nu-Mans of working age, except for mothers, who were allowed to stay home and raise children, were required to chose a profession and participate in the workforce. Skinks believed that if you didn’t work you didn’t deserve to eat. They were lenient masters but didn’t allow anyone to violate their structured guidelines.
Lixa was the daughter of Bix, who was one of the most skilled rebels on the team. Lixa shared the independent nature of her father and had trained under his guidance for a day which might come.
The day had come. That day was now.
“I can’t believe you’ve never had chamomile tea,” Lixa said. She brought the cup to her lips and drank some.
Tarik looked at the golden liquid and breathed the warm, aromatic odor. “We had tea on the base. If I’ve had chamomile before, I don’t remember. I didn’t care for the tea we had on the base. If fact, I hated it. It made me want to gag.” He took another sniff. “This, though, smells…interesting.”
“You won’t know until you try it.”
He was about to engage in a battle that might kill him and everyone else on the team. This was no time to be scared to taste a cup of tea.
Picking up the cup, he motioned it toward Lixa in a mock toast and took a sip.
“Well, what do you think?”
“It’s nothing like I expected. I like it.” He drank in a mouthful this time. “It’s earthy, flowery. It tastes medicinal, in a way. It must be good for you.”
“It’s an herbal tea made from chamomile flowers. It’s supposed to be good to settle the stomach and help make you calm and sleep better at night.”
“This is the perfect time for me to have this, then. The salmon had my stomach a little upset, and we’ll be going to bed soon.”
Lixa drank more of her tea. “Yeah. And tomorrow brings us closer to the end.”
Tarik watched the young Nu-Man drift away in her thoughts. Her father would be risking his life on this mission. It didn’t help that everyone knew the inevitable was coming. Time was the real God of the universe. Time waited for nothing. Time demanded an outcome. The universe marched to the edicts of time.
“I know just some details of the mission,” Lixa said. “I know about the time project and that the mission is to get you there and to go back in time to prevent the Skinks from discovering Earth. I don’t know how you’re supposed to do that.”
Tarik didn’t know if he should risk giving her the details. Not because he didn’t trust her. He just didn’t know if the Skinks would have a way of extracting the information if they were to capture her. With the mission so close at hand, the risks seemed minimal. “We’ve got Nu-Mans inside the base who are on our side. They’re supposed to get us in without a fight. That’s the plan, anyway. If we are discovered, we’re coming in a location that if we hit hard and fast, we should be able to get me in position.
“I’m going to be sent back to the year twenty-twenty. A few days early, hopefully, because we don’t know how accurate the machine is before the Skink probe warps into Earth’s orbit. The probe will circle the Earth for twenty-four hours and then land. It will then continue to gather data until some twelve hours. After that, the probe leaves Earth and warps back to the Skinks’ home planet.
“My job is to retrieve the data crystal with the information gathered and replace it with one that will show the Earth to be an uninhabitable planet.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Lixa said and giggled.
Tarik shrugged. “Sounds really far-fetched when I listen to myself say it. Still, that is the plan. If I destroyed the probe, and I don’t know if I could even do that, then the Skinks would just send another. We can’t have that. Once they receive the false information, they’ll never send another probe to this solar system again.”
“It’s so strange to think about it. You know, if you actually do it. The Nu-Man history, though only a few hundred years old, will be wiped out. Like we never even existed. Everyone I’ve known. Everyone I’ve loved,” Lixa said, her eyes growing moist. “I will never be.”
Contemplating one’s mortality was one thing. Questioning eternity was quite another.
“What happens to me?” Lixa asked. “My soul? What if I’ll never be? If there is an afterlife, what happens to my soul?”
Tarik didn’t know what to believe about an afterlife. So, he pretty much didn’t waste much time contemplating it. It was obvious Lixa had faith in a higher power. He wasn’t one to trash someone’s beliefs. Especially at a time like this. Hope sometimes was as necessary as food, water, and the air they breathed.
“If there are souls, I do not believe that they are destructible.” Tarik didn’t lie. He had at least considered the possibility and shared that belief. “Your soul would find its way into another body. You would live again and, when you die, will fi
nd a rightful place in the universe.”
“But I won’t be me. How could I be? My circumstances would be all different. I wouldn’t, couldn’t be the same person. The thought scares me.” Lixa closed her eyes to help push away the pain.
“When I was old enough to understand, I was told my father was a recombinant mass of goo and my mother a petri dish. I grew up a genetic abomination. If souls exist, then I have one. The universe will afford me the same rights and privileges as anyone else. Time is just one dimension in the universe. If the universe is that kind to me, then I’m sure it would care for a soul that once existed in its time dimension.”
“That actually makes sense on some level,” Lixa said. “I just need to stop worrying about it. I had no control of when and where I was born, and I shouldn’t be worrying about where I’m going. It’s all inevitable anyway.” She took a deep breath. “And you, if you make it, you’ll get to live your life with other humans. You’ll finally fit in, be with your own kind. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe. I hope so.” Tarik shrugged. “I’ve read a lot about human history. Humans had many undesirable qualities. I honestly don’t know if I could ever learn to like them like I have Nu-Mans. Nu-Mans are mostly honest and kind. Giving and loving.” He reached his left hand over and touched her arm. “Like you. If I met someone like you, there might be a chance for happiness.”
Lixa smiled.
Feeling like he was too forward, he retracted his hand. “But, my future, even though I’m going back into the past, is uncertain. I won’t know what the situation is really like until I get there. Happiness for me might just be a dream.”
“Dreams can come true.”
“So can nightmares.”
“There’s no guarantees of happiness in your future. All we really have is the present, anyway.” She looked at him, her green eyes sparkling. “I’m going to lie down.”
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