by Patin, Eddie
“They’re all talking about me?”
“Not too much,” he said, looking back down the hall. “Mostly just in the unit. I heard it from the LT.”
Harvey pivoted and leaned against the thickly-painted concrete brick wall. He eyed the other man’s rank chevrons, standing out among the black Velcro backing on one neon yellow shoulder. Harvey used to have three of those. Now he was a slick sleeve…
“Who were the arresting officers?” Jamal asked.
“Uh … Martinez and Brooks.”
Jamal clucked his tongue. “That explains it,” he said. “Brooks is a braggy bastard.”
“So why haven’t they booked me yet? Think they’re going to … ah … sweep it under the rug or something?” Harvey was never very popular with his colleagues. He transferred to Vegas Metro ten years ago from Salt Lake City after meeting and getting married to Dina (the bitch), and was always pretty turned off with the level of corruption and abuse of force in the department. Ironic that he just might be saved by such abuse now…
Jamal sighed and shook his shaved head. “I don’t know, man. If you’re the Metro Stalker—and that’s if you are—that’s like, what? Eight homicides? Well, ten now after last night??”
Harvey kept his mouth shut. It was more than that...
“That’s a lot to turn a blind eye to, ya know?” Jamal said. “And you were already demoted … two years ago now? I don’t know, old buddy. It doesn’t look too good…”
“Then what are you doing here?” Harvey asked.
“Eh … I had to drop something off upstairs. I heard you were down here, so thought I’d come and see how you were doing...”
They were silent for a moment. Harvey listened to the light buzz overhead.
“Well, now you know.”
“I just—” Jamal started, then slammed his fist against the plastic wall. The boom reverberated throughout the cell and the hall outside. “I just can’t stand to see what’s happened to you, man! It’s so sad. Dina, and Amelia, and the drinking, and now you’re running around offing creeps outside of the law??”
Harvey looked down to the whitish floor. He opened his mouth to unload on his old partner, but closed it again. It’s all fucked up, he thought. But Jamal was still a cop. And there was probably a recording device in here, too. Harvey had been very careful to avoid admitting to anything so far. He wasn’t technically arrested. He hadn’t heard any Miranda Rights, so he knew they weren’t intending to question him yet. He was just in limbo.
Jamal was a good man. His old partner was obviously feeling emotional about the torment Harvey had been through these last few years. But when Harvey looked inside, when he reached down into his heart searching for the sorrow ... or fear ... he only found emptiness inside...
There was nothing left.
“Well,” Harvey said, “I hope you put in a good word for me.”
Jamal stopped shaking his head and locked eyes with him. Those strong, brown eyes darkened, then hardened as the emotion washed away from his old friend’s face.
“Goodbye, Harvey,” Jamal said.
“See ya.”
Corporal Jamal Godwin turned away and headed back down the hall, back to the elevator, his combat boots clicking on the hard, coated floor. The footsteps echoed down the hall for a while, then, Harvey heard a door open and close slowly on its own...
He was alone again.
Harvey sighed, turning back to the bed. The metal frame hung from the wall, and the bed was hardly big enough to hold him. He was a tall man, strong and wide, and sleeping in this cell would be hell.
It was hell last night…
But, with nothing else to do until lunchtime, he laid down anyway, swinging his legs up onto the mattress, and putting his hands behind his head.
The light was the only thing on the ceiling, buzzing and dirty.
Then, Harvey felt something strange vibrate through his bones, and the light, along with all of the other lights around his cell, went out!
The buzzing stopped.
And Harvey Swanson was plunged into total darkness…
6 - Megan McKinney
Zion National Park, UT
Megan McKinney woke to the sound of other campers’ shoes scrabbling on the gravel outside.
She opened her eyes to the inside walls of her grey and dark red nylon tent. The light of the morning was bright, and the air on her skin exposed outside of the double sleeping bag—mainly her face—was crisp and cool. Megan blinked, took in a long, deep breath, and stretched, stirring Ramon, who lay dead to the world next to her, arm on her belly, one hand cupped over her breast.
Her long limbs stretched out to the walls of the tent, and she felt the rough ground under her heels over the edge of the foam pad under the bag.
Day three.
Going to The Narrows today.
She smiled to herself, pulling Ramon’s hand off of her and sliding her way to a sitting position.
Outside the tent, birds sang, tourists made all of their own variety of morning sounds, and she could hear the wind blow through the canyon, rousing the many tall trees that whispered with their branches and leaves. Holding her breath for a moment, Megan could hear the sound of the river in the distance.
A car passed by, back on the main road.
Ramon groaned, his eyes still closed, reaching for her again with the shrugged-off arm.
“Morning,” Megan said, crossing her legs and sitting up fully. She ran her fingers through her long, straight, dark blonde hair, pulled a hairband out of the little, white mesh storage pocket hanging from the low ceiling, and put her hair into a ponytail.
He cracked open his pale brown eyes and half-frowned, half-smirked, his wide mouth contemplating words.
Ramon groaned.
“Let’s sleep a little while longer,” he said.
“Nope,” Megan said, patting his seemingly-lifeless body. “I want to get a run in at the Emerald Pools.”
Ramon reached up and wiped his olive-skinned face, ran his hand through his short, curly locks of black hair. He seemed to ponder for a moment.
“Okay,” he said, sitting up and pulling his tall frame in to sit Indian-style across from her. He put his hands on her knees, smiled, and leaned in for a kiss.
Megan looked at his face for a moment, his eyes closed and his lips waiting, then closed her own eyes and gave him a quick one. She raised her hand to touch his cheek, almost did, but then lowered it again.
When Ramon opened his eyes again, they exchanged smiles, then Megan turned to her Camel-bak and checked the water level. She reached into her duffel bag, and changed from her big sleeping t-shirt into a synthetic running shirt. Pulling on her leggings and tying on her sneakers, she unzipped the tent and stepped out into the day...
Squinting against the morning light, she took another deep breath of the cool April air, and stretched again.
There were three other tents around them. Two of them were unmoving for the moment; the other one was open. Another young couple stood by in the gravel between their tent and their small pickup truck, eating … burritos?
At least Megan thought they were young. She herself was twenty-seven, about to become twenty-eight in a few days. She was getting uncomfortably close to thirty. The goalposts of ‘young’ were moving, it seemed. Back when Megan was eighteen, she sure didn’t consider ‘around thirty’ folks to be young. Heck—she thought forty-somethings were old.
She laughed to herself, jumping up onto her toes and bouncing up and down, warming her calves.
Ramon was still messing around in the tent by the time she had finished refilling her Camel-bak bladder with one of the water jugs in her car. She slung the backpack on and tightened everything down.
“Come on, Ramon!” she said. “Let’s get to the Nature Center so we can pee!”
“Alright, alright,” he said, stepping out into the light. He was taller than she was, and Megan was pretty tall compared to average women. Since they’d arrived in Zion, Ramon had
kept up with her okay for the most part, but he clearly wasn’t enjoying all of the hiking and running as much as she was. Where Megan was lean and muscular, Ramon was long and lanky.
He was a tall, dark and handsome … skinny dude.
And while Megan couldn’t quite tell herself that bringing him here was a mistake, it was definitely bringing out certain clashes in their personalities that had her questioning their three-month-long relationship.
She bounced up and down waiting for him, her hands in front of her chest, kicking her feet back alternatively.
He was okay, she thought. He was fun. Mostly.
“My bag’s in your car,” he said. “Can you unlock it please?”
Once they took off, locking up the car and closing the tent, they took a quick stop at the Nature Center, a small museum-like and educational building about a half mile away, then proceeded to jog up the red, paved “Pa’rus Trail” toward the lodge.
Megan felt great. The canyon was gorgeous all around her. Running northeast, parallel to the Mount Carmel Hwy, then up Floor of the Valley Rd after the turn off, they followed along the Virgin River, and Megan smiled at the variety of pretty trees all over the basin and the majestic red and white canyon walls that stretched up for a thousand feet on both sides.
Ramon kept up, and Megan noticed that he was at least trying to have a good time.
She knew Zion like the back of her hand, for the most part. Ever since she moved to St. George, about forty miles away, Megan drove over here to hike, run, and explore frequently—sometimes every weekend when the weather was nice.
Megan wasn’t always buff (like Ramon described her) and sporting a body fat of fifteen percent—she was once the fat kid. She’d created the body she had now through seven years (almost eight now) of hard work and regular habits. Growing up being the brunt of mean jokes in a school of rich kids in Telluride wasn’t enough to encourage real change—not more than lip service, anyway. But meeting Diego during her time in Spain, back when she was still just shy of drinking age … that did it.
Now, after several years of sweat, almost zero refined carbohydrates, and unrelenting adherence to her routines of strength training, Krav Maga, and dabbling in Aikido, she was a totally different woman!
And she liked it.
She’d always remember what she used to be, and what she accomplished. Ramon didn’t know it—he just saw her as the foxy physical therapist who worked with his mother. He probably assumed that Megan was always like this, as if she didn’t have to work for it. As if she didn’t forge her body, as it is now, with sheer willpower...
Megan shook her head.
Nope. She was going to a weird place with that. He’s just a nice guy, she thought. You’re just trying to come up with ways to resent him to convince you to break up with him?
Damn—girls are crazy…
She smiled, her feet padding at the red pavement again and again, her ponytail swishing from side to side as she ran. Looking back, Megan saw Ramon just behind her and off to the side. He was sweating hard, but his face was passive, and his eyes looked around at the canyon. When their eyes met, he smiled.
Once they passed the lodge and crossed the parking lots and field to the west, Megan’s feet thumped across the elegant steel and wooden bridge that led to the Emerald Pool trails, and Ramon followed close behind her.
Megan’s sneakers crunched on the gravel trail as she dodged between overextended willow branches. Taking a sip from her Camel-bak, she looked up at the looming natural bowl carved into the side of the cliff. Dark, cold water ran down its side from the top edge, along the concave curve, and filled the colorful sandstone pools below at the end of the trail.
Even though it was just the beginning of April, the trees and grass were much greener than they would normally be, this early in the spring. She was surprised at how lush and full of new leaves the trees were already.
What a beautiful day, she thought, stopping at the pools and turning around to face Ramon.
He wasn’t too far behind, and ran up, sagging and soaked in sweat. Ramon gave his best attempt at a smile, and put a hand on her shoulder as he approached, turning to face the lodge valley with her. He took a drink from his own backpack.
How far had they run? she thought. About four miles?
“It’s really pretty,” Ramon said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the pools. “How’s it so colorful?”
“Well, they’re called the Emerald Pools for a reason,” she said with a laugh. “Probably the minerals, or microorganisms or something in the water. Feeling good?”
“Oh, yeah sure,” he said, smirking and adjusting his backpack straps. “Wanna grab some food at the—”
Ramon was interrupted by a sudden crack of thunder down in the valley that echoed through the canyon, sending scores of little birds exploding from the trees into the clear blue sky!
Megan could have sworn that she also saw a flash down there, coming from the area by the lodge.
“What was that?” she heard another hiker say from further down the path.
Megan and Ramon exchanged glances.
“Was that an explosion?” Ramon asked.
“I don’t know,” Megan said. “Sounded like lightning, but the sky is totally clear!”
The thunderclap’s echo rolled across the canyon like a gunshot from far away, until it faded, and all Megan could hear was the wind and the trickle of the slow waterfall behind them into the pools.
“Let’s go check it out,” she said, bouncing a few times, then continuing on the loop back to the lodge. Ramon followed.
When Megan and Ramon made it back to the bridge, she saw a large crowd gathering at the north of the main parking lot, in the green, circular grassy area in front of the lodge.
All manner of tourists and adventurers were clustering together, murmuring among themselves; older people, young campers, hikers, hippies—even several children. In the middle of the main road was one of the shuttle buses, the only vehicles allowed on the road north of the turnoff this time of the year ... broken down? The shuttle was stopped in the middle of the road, seemingly in the middle of turning out of the parking lot heading toward the Grotto. Its folding door was open, and the huge white hood was propped up, the driver tinkering around with the engine.
Megan heard frantic muttering from the crowd about the tree.
Turning to see more, Megan took Ramon by the hand, and made her way into the group of tourists, pressing to the center of the green area.
Something was wrong.
Something was different.
And then she realized what it was...
The large, circular field in front of the lodge was lush and green like a well-groomed city park. People usually hung around in the area, sitting down in the grass to lounge in the shadow of the massive cottonwood tree that stood directly in the center—the Centennial cottonwood tree. It was over a hundred years old.
But now, the gigantic Centennial tree ... was gone!
It wasn’t entirely gone—there was still a sort of ... stump. But the stump wasn’t like a normal stump; flat on top where a lumberjack would cut it down with chainsaws. No, this was more like it was cut curved and evenly like a bowl—she didn’t even know how—like the old stump was now a perfectly-smooth wooden half-pipe for skateboarding. No—more like a bowl.
What sort of tool would even make it possible to do that?
It was as if some sort of perfect sphere of ... disintegration? ... annihilation ... appeared in the middle of the trunk a few feet above the ground, zapped the tree, and all that was left of the stump was carved out in its abscess. The top of the stump curved in perfectly, like a giant ice-cream scoop.
And the ninety-plus percent of the tree above the stump? The whole tree itself, with its ancient branches and leaves that cast so massive a shadow on the ground?
Gone. Utterly gone.
And it its place, hovering in the air over what was left of the Centennial cottonwood stump, was a door-s
ized ... monolith. A trapezoidal shape of solid gold as smooth as glass hovered in the air. Whatever the thing was, it seemed to Megan like something she’d only see in a dream, and it hung in reality as a parody, an illusion, filling her with a sense of dread...
7 - Chad Murray
UEA Science Research Lab, Geneva, Switzerland
Chad’s hearing was muted, as if he was underwater.
Something happened—something loud.
It was like the crack of lightning. Or, more accurately, the crash of thunder! He remembered his dad telling him that lightning didn’t actually make a sound. Thunder was the sound of lightning cracking. It was as if a bolt of lightning had snapped in this small, concrete room, and the thunderclap it made was … deafening.
And black.
Everything was pitch dark.
This research laboratory was deep underground. He and Melinda had come in through the only way he knew of—a large, industrial elevator, protected by high-tech electronic locks. For all he knew, they were hundreds of feet below Geneva!
Of course there was no light in here. Not in pitch dark. It was like being in a deep cave, so far from the surface that there wasn’t even the barest shred of light.
Chad had never seen darkness as deep as this…
“Chad?? Chad??” Melinda was saying, her voice faint.
Was he deaf? Partly deaf?
He realized that his mouth was open. Was he talking? Making noises?
Mawp, mawp, he thought, thinking back to his favorite adult cartoon, Archer.
“Chad??” Her voice was frantic and far away.
The voices of the scientists scrambling around in the room came to him. He suddenly heard the shuffling, gear-clattering noises of the soldiers moving behind him.
Was his hearing coming back?
The little sounds started filtering back in. He heard the ticking of computer keyboards. Then the sound of banging on computer keyboards. He heard stuff falling and clangs and sounds of chaos as several grown men stumbled around in the dark.