The Colony Box Set

by J. D. Grayson

  Shame turned to aggression. Dylan charged his ex-friend. Lunging for the naked man, the two spilled off the bed, crashing to the floor. Red anger filled Mr. Hunter’s face, fueling his fists. Multiple blows struck Thomas’ cheek. Brotherhood was betrayed for mere pleasure.

  Alexa tried to break them up, shoved away by her husband’s fury. At that moment, a dark thought claimed his head. There’s only one way I’ll ever avenge this. There’s only one way to free myself of disgrace. His death.

  Dylan’s fists continued the punishment. His friend’s face began to bloody, though it didn’t stop the onslaught. In fact, only Alexa’s tearful voice could do so. “Killing him may fix you...but it won’t fix us. This isn’t the way!”

  At that moment, Dylan was thrust from his horrific flashback. A swift wind returned him to the present moment, on the edge of Golden Gate Bridge. His date with death awaited. The past memories only strengthened his resolve. He could forgive a remorseful wife once, though a second time was impossible.

  His aroused reaction consumed every sexual encounter to follow. The act even hindered his ability to conceive, altering the health of his sperm. He saw it as a curse Alexa brought upon them. Though, he ultimately blamed Thomas. Since he promised Alexa he’d spare her lover’s life, he opted to die himself.

  “Goodbye, Alexa. I hope he’s worth it,” Dylan said, as a voice suddenly stopped his flight.

  “Are you alive?” a male voice calmly asked. The unidentified man’s body was still consumed by thick fog.

  “Who the hell’s there? You’re not gonna stop me! Come any closer...I’ll jump!”

  A mysterious looking man exited the mist. He had midnight black hair, dark eyes, black clothes and a rounded hat. If not contrasted by white fog, he’d have blended into the night. “I’m not here to stop you, friend. In this land, you’re permitted to grant your own wish. Even if unwise.”

  “You’re here to watch? Sick fuck!”

  “No, friend. I’m here to offer redemption.”

  “I’m not your friend...stop calling me that.”

  “My intentions are friendly.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of friend lets another friend jump off a bridge?"

  “You never answered my question.”

  “I’m kind of distracted at the moment. What the hell do you want?”

  “Just a simple answer, Dylan Hunter.”

  “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

  “I’m a messenger,” he cryptically said.

  “Bike messenger? Give me the message...and go. Don’t expect a tip.”

  “Are you alive?”

  “I said...give me the fucking message!”

  “That is the message.”

  Dylan Hunter paused in confusion, wiping his tired face. He looked down into illuminated clouds, getting lost within them. “No...I’m dead. Is that a good enough answer?” he asked, deciding to jump.

  Falling forward, his journey was halted by the messenger’s hand. Dylan was yanked off the bridge’s railing. He broke into tears, pulled into the stranger’s embrace.

  Anger filled Dylan as he pulled away. “Let me die, damn you! You said I had a choice!”

  “You said you were dead already. Why die twice?”

  Dylan paused in confusion. “Who are you really? How’d you know I was here? Were you following me?”

  The mysterious man handed him a card. “I’m the one who can lead you to paradise. All you have to do...is follow."

  Dylan examined it, reading an address. “This is...near the airport. What’s there...the fountain of fucking youth?”

  “The first step to Aionios."

  “What’s Aionios?”

  “I believe you’d call it eternity. Though in this land...there are no fair words to describe it.”

  “Is this one of those...religious things?”

  “Religion belongs to mortals. Paradise is reserved for the chosen. You have been chosen, Dylan. So has Alexa.”

  Anger struck Dylan’s face. “Are you the one she’s fucking now? Her new lover of the month?”

  A pleasant smile crossed the peaceful man’s face. “The lifeless cannot love...fore they do not live,” he said. “The choice is yours. You can continue walking amongst the dead...or be reborn.”

  A confused Dylan Hunter looked at the card again. Flipping the address side, a message read, Are you alive? A figure 8 symbol appeared underneath, ∞. Looking back upward, he watched the mysterious messenger exit into the fog.

  “Hey! You never answered me! How do you know my name? How do you know my wife?”

  His own voice echoed back. Dylan looked over the bridge railing, remembering his desire to die. Oddly enough, that desire was gone. It was replaced by curiosity.

  *****

  Alexa Hunter exited her therapist’s office. Darkness filled the sky as she looked at her watch. The curvy blond gasped in worry, knowing the therapy session went too long to hide. She’d have to tell Dylan a new lie. Of course, her mind was on the strange card the therapist gave her. Am I alive? She wondered. What an odd man. Does paradise really exist?

  Anxiety wracked her soul, which was the reason she initially sought help. As the months went by, the sessions delved into something deeper, darker. The questions got sexual in nature, personal. It was as if Dr. Freedmen aimed for humiliation. The more she admitted, the more objectified she felt. In an odd way, she kind of liked it.

  Hurrying across the city street, she darted through traffic in high-heels. Her eyes were glued upon the waiting bus. Having no reason to look back, Alexa didn’t see the therapist’s eyes stalking her flight. He shut his office door before she entered the vehicle.

  Mrs. Hunter hurried onto the deserted bus. It was a trip she made often, having been requested to come five days a week. Every session pushed her to the edge, making her swear to never return. However, she always came back. He had a mental hold that strengthened with each visit. Although she didn’t recognize it, she was being trained to obey.

  That particular session was beyond anything she’d faced, drudging all her past failures. Tears flowed like kerosene. She’d told the therapist, “All these visits have changed nothing. There’s nothing left to live for. My husband won’t forgive, can’t forget. The love is dead...so am I!” The therapist’s eyes gleamed with opportunity, as he handed her the card. His patient was obviously broken; his mission was complete.

  Part I-Dead or Alive?

  A silk sheet slipped off Dylan Hunter’s body, spilled in the slow monotony of lifeless sex. The man's statuesque form was as stressed as he was. He lay upon Alexa’s voluptuous body as his 9-inch cock pointlessly pumped. It was a routine, nothing more. Neither one of them wanted sex, though it was the only consistency they'd had since the affair. It was an attempt at intimacy. Conversation was nonexistent.

  Alexa's pink palace was dry as desert sand, chafing Dylan’s dying dick. Mr. Hunter's offering shrunk with each stroke. Though, for the first time in years, they shared a common distraction: the question. The simple words worked their minds like unskilled laborers. It made them question their own existence.

  Vanishing completely from Alexa’s sex, Dylan collapsed in defeat. “Just give me a minute...it'll come back,” he unconvincingly said, stroking himself fast. The stress only made him more flaccid.

  He punched the headboard in humiliating frustration. Without addressing him, Alexa embraced her husband. Wrapping her arms around his strong body, she pressed him into her full breasts. She broke down in tears “It's over...isn't it,” she asked in statement form.

  “Ask the man who you fucked tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me? It's been years! Are you ever gonna let this go?”

  “So it's not Thomas? Then who? A coworker? Scumbag at a bar? I deserve to know!"

  “There’s no man."

  “Ok, it's a woman. It's all cheating to me!"

  “I’m not having an affair!”

  “You just suddenly needed to work late...in the last year
? I bought it...until I spoke to your boss."

  "You called my boss?"

  "Deflect all you want. You're not leaving this room until I get an answer."

  She lowered her head in shame, realizing she’d have to come clean. "I'm seeing a therapist."

  "I don’t give a damn about his career...or how much he makes!"

  She sighed. "Don’t you get it? I’m seeing him professionally...not romantically!"

  After a pause, he asked, “Why do you need therapy?"

  "Have you looked in a mirror? Tell me if you like the man staring back.”

  He hung his head in shame, gripping a handful of his hair. "I just can’t...erase it from my mind. Seeing you fuck my best friend...kills me."

  "Being blamed everyday kills me! Add in stress, bills, age, bland sex...and infertility.”

  “Oh no...not this again. We tried to conceive. Besides, how could I bring kids into...this world?"

  "We both know you'll never be ready. Not until you can forgive."

  He exhaled, laying his head on her bare breasts. "I hate my job, my boss, my schedule, take-out food, this apartment, crazy-ass city...I hate it all!”

  “Do you hate me?” Alexa asked fearfully. “I need to know.”

  Pain filled his heart. “You’re the only thing in this life...I ever loved. When I saw you with him...I died," he proclaimed. "I haven’t been alive since.”

  Alexa gasped, remembering her therapist's question, Are you alive? She quickly retrieved the card, restudying the words. She found her answer. More importantly, she finally understood the question. "We're not alive," she proclaimed.

  “What did you say?” Dylan asked in spooked disbelief.

  She placed the card on his bare chest. “My therapist gave me this.”

  “You mean...the messenger?"

  She gasped. “Someone came to you too?”

  He grabbed his card from nightstand. “Yeah...a strange guy. Said things...worthy of a nuthouse. Though somehow...he described my life. It was like...he’d been inside my head. The place he described...sounded so...perfect. It had to be bullshit, right?”

  She paused in deep thought. “I told Dr. Freedmen I was done with life, couldn’t go on. He asked if I’d give up everything...to be reborn.”

  “What did you say?”

  She paused. “I said, yes. Everything...but you.”

  Dylan stroked his face in wonderment. “Aionios...the name stayed with me all night. Eternity. What could that mean? No one lives forever.”

  A hopeful Alexa spoke up. "Maybe it’s not physical. Maybe...it's something else...something deeper. Eternal happiness? Eternal love, maybe? Can it be worse than this?”

  Dylan sighed. “This new-age bullshit...can be dangerous. Do you really believe it possible?"

  “I believe in us. And I’ll do anything to save our marriage. Won’t you?"

  Dylan exhaled, taking another look at the card's address. He gazed back at his sad wife. Having been together since high school, he'd never seen her so hurt, yet so hopeful. “I suppose we could hear him out."

  Alexa asked, “What’s left to lose?"

  Dylan took another deep, skeptical breath. “Not much.”

  Alexa took the card back from his hands, ready to save them at any cost.

  *****

  The next day, Dylan and Alexa arrived at the address. They wore their typical work clothes, expecting a typical day to follow. Mr. Hunter adjusted his solid gray tie, Alexa lowered her cleavage line.

  They approached an old warehouse, rechecking the numbers on the card. Dylan’s skepticism was triggered by the odd choice of lodging. A dark, dusty space greeted them upon entrance. Bright white light shined in the distance, providing a pathway. Alexa's trembling hand reached for Dylan’s, an act, which hadn’t happened in years.

  Maybe this place can bring us closer, even if it’s not what they advertised, he thought to himself. However, his mind quieted as they neared the light source. As their eyes adjusted, a collection of machines and medical tools were revealed. Two chairs sat in the room's middle. Four men, four women waited in medical coats and traditional blue masks.

  The spotlights strained the couples' eyes, causing them to squint. “Who are you people?” Dylan shouted.

  “You don’t know them,” the mysterious messenger exited the darkness.

  “But you know us,” Dr. Raymond Freedmen said, joining his side. “Hello, Alexa.”

  Alexa smiled at the trusted man. “Hello, Dr. Freedmen.”

  The therapist extended his hand to an untrusting Dylan. “You must be, Dylan. I've heard a lot about you."

  Mr. Hunter returned a hard greeting. “I don’t like shrinks.”

  The doctor’s hand remained. “Today, I’m not a therapist. I’m the man who’ll save your marriage.”

  Dylan’s face remained tight. “We’ll see about that. Now tell me about this...magical place.”

  “Don’t be mistaken, Mr. Hunter. Magic has nothing to do with it. It’s reality.”

  “Why'd you choose us? Surely there are more miserable people on your couch,” Dylan asked.

  The messenger pointed to the chairs. “Take a seat, friends.”

  A trusting Alexa sat in the reclined medical chair, highlighted by white light. Dylan slowly followed, remaining uncomfortable in the action. “I asked you a question,” Mr. Hunter demanded. “Before we agree to go anywhere...I want answers.”

  Dr. Freedmen addressed them with the eight doctors at his back. “There’s a place...far from these shores...where life begins.”

  “Where is it?” Dylan inquired.

  “An island...in the deep Pacific. I’m sure you’ll understand if we keep its exact location to ourselves.”

  “Who owns it?” he asked.

  “The citizens. It's autonomous. For now, I can tell you...it needs repopulation. We only seek the best. As you can imagine...an address in paradise is not given easily.”

  “Define best. We’re at our breaking points...miserable, desperate. How does that help you?”

  “To fully embrace change, you must be ready to reject your past. To reborn you must be void of life. Physically, mentally...you need Aionios as much as Aionios needs you.”

  “What’s this place look like?” Dylan interrupted them.

  “Paradise.”

  “Hawaii?” he asked.

  "Eden," Dr. Freedmen strongly corrected.

  “Forbidden fruit included?" Dylan mocked.

  A serious look possessed Dr. Freedmen's face. “In Aionios...no fruit is forbidden. No pleasure is denied.”

  Mr. Hunter’s smirk melted. The idea of an earthly paradise contradicted his skeptical nature. Though the mere thought of its existence was too tempting to pass. “Can we come back here?” Dylan asked.

  “If you want to,” the therapist said in a weakened tone. “Though you won’t.”

  “Why not?” Alexa asked. “We have family...and a home here.”

  “All the earthly possessions and connections...will never compare,” he turned to the messenger, nodding. The mysterious man grabbed a series of papers, two pens. He walked over, handing the couple separate piles.

  Dylan took a close look at the details. "Power of attorney...our bank account...stocks...home?”

  “We’d handle your affairs while gone...like a management company. People do it all the time.”

  “Are there ATM machines on the island?” Alexa stressed.

  “There’s no money,” Dr. Freedmen corrected.

  Worry painted her face. “How would we survive? Food, clothing, shelter?”

  “Every need and want provided...every desire granted. Free of cost."

  Dylan stared over at Alexa again, fearful, yet intrigued. He returned his gaze to Dr. Freedmen. “Can we have a day to think it over?”

  “There you go again with thought, Mr. Hunter. Don’t you realize, thought led you here? For once in your life...don’t think...just act. The time is now.”

  “Yes,” Alexa blurted o
ut.

  Dylan studied her, seeing the hope upon her face. “You truly believe in this?”

  “We need this,” she said with sincerity in her eyes.

  “For our marriage..." Dylan said, picking up the pen, painfully signing his life away. Alexa followed his lead.

  “A wise decision." After the documents were signed and collected, he announced, “Remove your clothing. It’s time to take the first step towards eternity. Your bodies must be cleansed.”

  Before Dylan could protest, Alexa peeled off her dress. Her pale curves nearly sparkled in the brilliant white light, shadowing her hips in high-definition. As a black thong slipped to her ankles, she bent over, tightly arching her half-moons. The wet slit spread from behind, revealing her feminine world to the group.

  Dylan’s eyes feasted upon his wife, joining the spectators. Once again, he was torn between jealousy and desire. Dr. Freedmen studied Mr. Hunter’s conflicted gaze, knowing its origins. He knew of Alexa’s affair, and the turmoil it wrecked on her husband.

  Deciding not to fight it, Dylan slowly lowered his jeans, releasing a 9-inch cock. With every inch of removed clothing, his chiseled body was displayed. The man looked like a marble statue, matching the diamond quality of his wife.

  Dylan gulped in nervousness, as the doctors surrounded their opposite sex patients. The four masked females encircled him, each wearing latex gloves. Two of the fem doctors grabbed his right arm, trapping it in an armrest cuff. His other arm was quickly secured too.

  He looked up, seeing his nude wife also locked in place. Like himself, blood was drawn from her vein. Her feet were lifted into stirrup cuffs, clamped tightly. Alexa’s legs were spread wide.

  Mr. Hunter’s strong legs were clasped in the same humiliating position. A fluff of cold shaving cream was spread over his pubic hair. A male doctor simultaneously lathered Alexa’s blond muff. The gloved hand took extra time between her legs, frosting her cake completely, brushing her clitoris with latex.

  A razor was revealed, shaving a clean line down the mound. The male doctor carefully carved her puffed lips. Dylan watched in lustful disbelief, though was quickly diverted to his own shaving. One of the female doctors grabbed his shaft, pulling it downward.