The Ultimate Collection of Science & Speculative Fiction Short Stories (Short SSF Stories Book 5)

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  I had no time to deal with her as I swerved to avoid the parking assistant, wheels shrieking in anger. He flew into a fake witch hovering on her broomstick and I shot before him, the car’s engine roaring. The smell of burnt rubber filled my nostrils, but I dared not slow down as we hit the ramp to the road. Sparks flew out of the low car upon its impact with the asphalt, the engine protesting with a deafening howl. “Let me out!” the woman next to me yelled.

  “Too late now,” I said through gritted teeth. My mind raced. How many people knew of this? And when did it happen? When did everyone start eating live meat? How could the animals be alive, when skinned and exsanguinated? I shot a sideways glance at the woman, wondering if she had any answers, and nodded towards the bag she was clutching in her hands. “What’s inside?”

  “Meat?” she stammered.

  “What kind?”

  She stole a glance at the bag. “Chicken.” I sighed with relief. I had not noticed any live poultry. “And pork.”

  I almost crashed the car on a telephone pole, swerving at the last moment. Bile rose to my throat. “So you know,” I growled.

  “Know what?” she protested, her face draining of color. It reminded me too much of the animals in the van, and I shut my eyes to chase the image away. “Watch out!” she screamed, and my eyes flew open again. I slammed the brakes to avoid crashing into the back of a truck. The car came to a screeching halt, my heart thudding in my chest.

  “Get out,” I growled. This time she obeyed me without a word. I floored the gas as soon as both her feet were on the road, and inertia slammed the door shut. The last I saw of her as the car roared away, she was staring at me bug-eyed. I’m not the crazy one! You’re the one eating live meat!

  I took the ramp to the motorway. I had to get away, gather my thoughts. Who else knew? Then, my pocket vibrated and a second later my phone rang. I had completely forgotten about it. I could ask for help. But who would help me? I fished it out of my pocket to glance at the screen.

  I swallowed hard and tried to clear my head before swiping my thumb over the screen. “Hi, Lea.”

  “Hey!” My breath caught at the sound of her voice. “Where are you?”

  “Long story.” I slowed down and swerved behind a truck. The last thing I needed was to get pulled over for speeding.

  “Listen…” She paused. “We need to talk.”

  I cringed. No good had ever come from those words. I tried to keep my voice neutral, casual. “What about?”

  “Well…” She hesitated. “How you feel about me.” Shit. Not cool. “And how I feel about you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “How do you mean?”

  “I know we’ve been friends for so long, but what if I wanted more?”

  Was it me, or was it getting warm in the car? “Are you…” I cleared the lump from my throat. “Are you saying you want more?”

  “Why don’t you come over and we can discuss it?” she said in her bedroom voice.

  I almost did a 180 right then and there, forgetting I was on the motorway, then it hit me. All these months I’ve been waiting for this, and it happened now? Just as I had stumbled on something this big?

  “Sounds good,” I said cautiously. “I’ll see you at your place in ten.”

  “Ah…” She sounded apprehensive. “How about the burger joint, instead? You know, the new one? They say the burgers there are to die for.”

  A chill touched the base of my spine and travelled all the way up to my scalp. I opened the window and threw the phone out. I had watched enough movies to know that’s how they find you. Not Lea, too! My eyes moistened, and I wiped them with one hand, squeezing the steering wheel with the other until my knuckles turned white. Crap, if they’ve gotten to her, that means they’re everywhere!

  I took deep breaths and ran my sweaty palm through my hair as I passed a police car, a copper holding a radar gun. I knew I was driving below the limit, but he looked up to stare at me. He knows! Maybe he’s one of them! Trying my best to keep the car at an even speed, I waited until he had disappeared, then continued driving as far from that place as possible.

  The sun had set by the time I swerved off the motorway into an exit, then into a back road. A classmate of mine lived nearby. I had not seen him in years, but he was a vegetarian. I should be safe there. Reaching a junction, I took a left, then came back as I reached a dead end. This time I turned right, to arrive at a nice farmhouse with a large garden, filled with growing, leafy vegetables. Golden fruit filled the trees of an orchard at the back.

  I parked before his gate and stared at my fingers clutching the steering wheel, my mind spinning faster than the still-running engine. After an eternity, I turned it off and stepped out of the car, leaving the stolen keys in the ignition.

  I stepped out of the car on unsteady legs and drank the crisp evening air with hungry breaths. A handful of early stars shimmered in the sky, providing some much-needed illumination. I wish he’d turn on a light! I covered the short distance to the porch with slow steps. My feet kicked up small drifts, ribboned by the wind. I needed to sober up, my head stuffed with wool and crowded with too many thoughts. As my finger touched the buzzer, an impatient hand tapped my shoulder.

  I let out a startled yelp and spun around to see an irate older woman holding a red, plastic basket. “Are you ordering anything?” Her nasal voice grated my frayed nerves.

  I blinked repeatedly to shake away my confusion before raising my eyes to look at the long queue behind her. I was back at the butcher’s stall, a dozen people glaring at me, mumbling under their breath. “Come on, we ain’t got all day,” someone muttered, and people murmured in agreement.

  “I’m…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.” I turned to face the butcher. “I’d like…” My gaze fell on the pig’s head, the one that had triggered the unsettling waking nightmare. “Erm, you haven’t got any vegetarian sausages now, do you?”

  Behind me, two girls giggled. A wave of anger hit me at the thought they were mocking me, but when I spun around to face them, they were staring at the small man with the polka dot bowtie. Had he been standing next to me all this time?

  “I’m telling you, that’s him,” one of the girls said in an excited, hushed whisper. “Doctor Hypnosis himself—the world’s greatest illusionist!”

  “And crusader against rudeness,” he muttered as he passed me by to approach the girls, a wide smile spreading across his face.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but my gaze caught on the pig’s head. I took a double take and my heart almost stopped. I could swear that the jack-o’-lantern had winked at the pig in approval.

  Infinite Waters

  She gaped at me. I could see goose bumps on her arms. “That was... disturbing.” Her fingers grazed mine. “Perhaps one more? Something funny?”

  I shook my head from side to side. “No.” With careful fingers, I placed the crystal ball inside its fabric prison and under the table once again.

  “But—”

  I raised one finger to stop her. “I can, however, tell you whether you’ll find success or not.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then nodded furiously, smothering the leather bag against her chest. “Yes,” she squeaked. “Please.”

  With half-closed eyes, I let my hand hover over my other tools. I allowed an imperceptible pull to guide my fingers, until they rubbed against the cards. Lifting them gently, I shuffled the deck. Sympathy tugged at my heart. I hoped the cards would tell her what she wanted to hear. This book of hers might be her last chance at success; her last chance of happiness.

  I held the cards on my palm and extended my arm. She shot me a questioning look. “Draw,” I said. She did so reluctantly, as if her very future depended on it. First a single, apprehensive card, followed by several more, each more confident than the previous one. She placed them all on the small round table, spreading them out like a fan.

  “Thank you,” I said, and emptied my mind as my fingertips grazed the first card. Whe
n I upturned it, an impish smile made my mouth twitch. It widened into a grin with the next ones. Only the last card troubled me, and I closed my eyes while working out the best way to share with her the future whispered to me by the archetypal images.

  “You will be very successful,” I started. She fought a squeal of pleasure and jolted so hard that the plastic pin in her hair gave up in desperation, allowing half of her sweet-smelling hair to burst around her neck. I could not help but smile; she looked ten—no—twenty years younger already. She looked downright beautiful, and I felt another tug on my heart.

  “In fact, your book will be taught at schools and universities,” I continued, enjoying how her baby blue eyes widened with each word. “It will be read by book clubs everywhere. You, my dear, are a very talented author.” I stressed the last three words, staring into her startled eyes.

  She let out a deep breath and collapsed listless on her chair. For a moment I feared the shock had proven too much for her, but then she jumped to her feet and lunged at me. Before I had a chance to stop her, she had her arms around me, squeezing me like a teddy bear.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, planting wet kisses on my cheek. “You don't know how much this means to me! Nobody believes in me, even my sister thinks I’m just…” Her voice trailed off. I fought an unexpected sense of loss when she released me to pat down my clothes in embarrassment. “Thank you,” she repeated, flashing me a huge grin before pushing the awning aside to bolt outside, a newfound spring in her step.

  The wind flapped the tent, almost drowning out the sounds from the crowded fair that seeped in. I brought the awning back down, fastening it absent-mindedly with a cord.

  I debated hurrying after her to share the rest of the future revealed to me, then decided against it. I would meet her again soon enough, and if she knew that success would take almost a century to find her, she might never finish her work.

  A smile flickered on my lips. At least she had now met the tall, dark stranger promised by the cards, and I would do everything in my power to keep that gorgeous smile on her face for the rest of her days. If the cards were right—and they had never lied to me—she would not mind life in the carnival in the least.

  HONEST FIBS

  Beyond the seams of the universe,

  therein lies a greater truth

  Copyright © 2016 Nicholas C. Rossis. All rights reserved.

  Illustration by Dimitris Fousekis. Copyright © 2014 Dimitris Fousekis. All rights reserved.

  Cover by Alexios Saskalidis, 187designz.deviantart.com. All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1530756704 (print edition)

  This is an original work of fiction. Any relationship to real people is unintentional and a coincidence.

  Honest Fibs

  I glance to the cloudless sky and scowl at the relentless sun baking my skin. Letting go of my fishing rod, I push my cap up and wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. The sunblock leaves my hand oily. “Grab me another beer, will ya?”

  “Sure, man, I live to serve.”

  Bob and his sense of humor. “Har har. Just toss it over.”

  He throws me a can and I pop the tab with a satisfying pssht. I slurp some cold beer, enjoying the wet coolness of the can under my fingers. Fishing is thirsty work, and we’ve been at it since before dawn bled into the darkness. I peer into the turquoise waters, spotting schools of Spanish mackerel, bluefish and ladyfish. Most are undersized, so I leave them to Bob, with his light tackle.

  A school of large silver mullet rams the Spanish macks, their smooth skins sparkling like tiny stars. The commotion draws my attention for a moment, then my gaze drifts away. I’m looking for something bigger. Maybe swordfish. Or a tuna. We’d been following a dolphin pod, so chances are there are some yellowfins in the area.

  Bob jumps into his seat and cracks his beer open. “Any luck?”

  “You’ll know it when it happens.” It’s been a slow morning.

  “So much for your perfect bait.”

  I shrug to hide my irritation. “Still early.”

  “But seriously—fish mistake that silver crap for bait? It looks like a spoon. What are they gonna do, have tea with the fish queen?” He almost chokes at his own joke.

  Jerk. “It’s called a lure. And yes, fish love it.” Spoons have always worked for me. Especially since I coat them with my secret weapon—female fish pheromones. They stink up the boat, but drive fish wild. There’s no accounting for taste, I guess.

  Except for today. Probably Bob’s fault. It’s the first time I’ve taken him fishing, and I only did it as a favor to my wife.

  “Bob’s been through so much, with his divorce and everything,” she’d whispered a couple of nights ago in bed.

  “He’s just our neighbor,” I’d mumbled, desperate to hold on to my drowsiness. “It’s not like we owe him or anything.”

  “John Christopher, you’ll take Bob fishing and that’s that.”

  When she uses my middle name, I know it’s pointless to argue. And now Bob is on my boat, jinxing me.

  “So, how do you pass the time when it ain’t biting?”

  I stifle an annoyed yawn. “Dunno. Tell stories, I guess?”

  “Like one of those fishermen tales? You know, about the time you caught a fish this big?” He spreads his arms to illustrate the size of the imaginary catch.

  I hide my irritation behind a chuckle. “My grandpa says there are mermaids around these parts. How about that?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Even better. In fact, my grandma was a mermaid. And Queen of England.”

  It is my turn to laugh. “Fine, no tall tales. Tell you what. Just gimme the first story that comes to your head.”

  His eyebrows arch. “First story in my head.” He scratches his jaw. “Okay. Here’s a story for you. It’s about a guy that gets to shoot the devil.”

  “He what?”

  He gives me a sideways half-smile. “It’s an honest-to-God true story.”

  Despite myself, I laugh. “An honest fib, then.”

  His head bobs up and down in agreement. “An honest fib.”

  Shoot the Devil

  “Papieren,” a voice barked behind me.

  I froze in my tracks. I thought I could sneak into my destination unseen at this late hour, but this city had more eyes than cobblestones. Act natural, my instructor’s voice whispered in my head. The same thing he had repeated daily during six months of ceaseless training.

  I turned slowly around, one hand in the air, the other digging into my pocket for my battered wallet. Since leather was no longer used in the twenty-second century, this was an heirloom brought along specifically for the purpose. I fished out my pass to hand it over to the impatient hand.

  A second guard was looking on, a bored smirk on his young face. God, they’re so young, I thought. The countless hours spent training had not prepared me for the stark reality of Nazi Germany. Somehow, I had expected everything to be more cinematic and less… well, less real. That’s the problem with time travel; everything is so similar, yet the smallest detail can seem odd.

  I examined the soldier while he studied my pass, his gaze shooting from my face to the folded piece of paper and back. His uniform smelled of wet wool, and I caught a hint of grease from the menacing machine gun hanging leisurely from his shoulder. A sweeter smell, probably hair gel, whiffed from his head, startling me. I stared at his iron helmet, my eyes catching on the twin lightning bolts stenciled on its side. A silver pair on his collar mirrored them, glinting under the faint glow of the streetlight. I wondered if they were made out of real silver, and fought a sudden urge to reach out and rub them with my fingers.

  “Come on,” the second guard said in German, shooting an impatient glance at the clock sitting atop the bell tower in the square’s middle. This one’s insignia was dark grey and I tried in vain to remember what, if anything, that meant.

  The first guard hesitated for a moment, then handed me back my pape
rs. “Where do you live?” he asked me.

  I nodded with my jaw towards the aging building around the corner where, according to my papers, I had lived for the past three years. I tried to keep my words to a minimum. The endless hours spent practicing my accent notwithstanding, I did not want to take any chances.

  He studied me for a moment and I forced myself to meet his eyes, hoping they did not reflect my terror. “Go,” he said in the end. I nodded and turned slowly away, my boots scuffing and kicking at the cobbles in what I hoped was a display of worry-free indifference. Only after I had turned the corner did I let myself exhale, leaning against a door frame until my knees stopped shaking.

  I pulled out a skeleton key to jiggle it into a rusted lock. It clicked softly, and I hurried inside the medieval building, shutting the door behind me as I slipped into a dark corridor filled with the reassuring stench of boiled cabbage. A baby’s plaintive cries attacked me from an apartment to my left, followed by a faint argument. I pulled out a dull grey metal cylinder from a hidden pocket in my thick coat. It hissed when I pried it open, to expand into a two-barreled gun. With a soft whir, a laser sight snapped in place at the top, projecting a red dot on the wall across from me.

  Its comforting weight in my hand helped my breath slow down. I started up on the narrow steps when a brown door on the side creaked open to reveal a woman’s ancient face. She threw me a stern, suspicious look as I squeezed the weapon into my pocket.

  “Who are you?” she asked me in German, glancing at the bulge under my coat.

  “A friend…” I rasped and coughed to clear my clogged throat. “A friend of Dr. Schumann’s. He’s visiting family in Berlin.”