On January fifth the captain reported in his ships log a most astounding and significant entry that would ultimately become their salvation and the sole reason behind Omni Chemical’s interest in the Island.
He wrote on that day, “Party of eight hunted seal ashore in the early morning hours. My first officer was approached by an elderly man clad entirely in Walrus skins who seemed to walk out of the frozen tundra from no place in particular. The old man attempted to communicate with the crew but was unsuccessful because of his strange dialect. After a few minutes of fruitless banter, the old man produced a pouch and emptied its contents in the snow, there were nine yellow rocks, each about half the size of a man’s fist. The old man then picked up one of the rocks and walked about twenty feet from where the rest of the party stood and placed it upon a large boulder. He pulled an unknown object from one of his pockets and struck it hard upon the rock. My first officer reported that an amazing flame of great size and intensity ignited itself, the heat of which was comparable, as some present would say, to that of a fully engulfed barn. The flame burned brightly and could be seen easily from the ship. It maintained its full intensity for a time no less than nine and one half days before it finally sputtered out. I personally made several landings to inspect this miraculous phenomenon and was ultimately convinced that the remaining rocks would be more than sufficient to power our vessel for the entire return trip back to Great Britain. Providence seems to be with us in this new and amazing discovery!”
Once the captain and crew had finally arrived back in home port, rumor spread of a new form of energy and Omni Chemical quickly asserted itself. The company proffered a large settlement to the captain and crew for the exclusive rights to the island’s location and also took possession of the remaining few rocks. Omni scientists were put to work attempting to discover its secrets but, in the meantime, the young geologist would be placed on the island to survey and record the exact locations of the rocks for future excavations.
(ON THE ISLAND, TWO MONTHS LATER)
In stark contrast to the eye bleaching snow that spread out in all directions, a small wooden
cabin now sits forlornly upon the frozen landscape, its smokestack emitting a wavy tail of heat that cuts through the wind chilled air like restless spirits departing for the skies. Inside the cramped building, the young geologist laid upon his bed with an open book by his side. It had been one week since he first set foot on the island and in that time he had already fulfilled his obligations to the company by locating a number of caves riddled with the yellow stone lodged within the porous volcanic rock. In fact, he could find no reason to return to the caves for his discoveries would be adequate enough to keep his company toiling away for many years to come.
After a few days of being sequestered in the tiny shack, he already felt claustrophobia’s grip upon him and decided it wise to leave the cabin each day for a few hours of exercise. On this particular afternoon, after returning from his walk he noticed an odd set of tracks leading from his cabin into another direction. Upon reaching the cabin door, he saw two large fish lying in the snow, dressed and ready for cooking. He smiled at the gracious gesture of his island neighbors and thought that he would have to make it a point to visit them in the near future to return their generosity, perhaps bring them some of his canned food as a gift. The canned food had already become monotonous and the thought of having fresh fish for dinner was a most welcomed change. On closer inspection of the fish, he noticed that they had been seasoned in a strange way. Tiny yellow particles of some unknown substance were liberally sprinkled throughout the fillets. He attempted to rinse them away, only resulting in lodging the particles even more persistently into the flesh. His hunger, however, exhorted him on and he prepared them for his evening meal. The taste, although somewhat unusual, was excellent and he ate his fill.
That evening, he lay upon his bed, fully content and weary from his earlier walk. Sleep was about to take hold of him when suddenly he heard what sounded like a cry upon the wind. He raised himself up slowly and cocked his head to listen, and after a few moments the sound repeated itself. A faint and distant plea for help could be heard upon the relentless torrents that whipped their way past his cabin. He was about to dismiss the sound to illusion until he heard it once again, this time more distinct.
He jumped to his feet and threw open the door. His eyes searched the icy landscape, “Hello!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Is anyone there?” Only silence. He walked to the other side of the cabin and repeated his call but only heard the continual shriek of wind in reply. Deciding that he had been mistaken, he made his way back inside and within a few minutes was fast asleep.
After a short while, Paul’s body began to twitch in an agitated manner and his face became flush with perspiration. In his dream-filled mind, he was once again back with his new bride on that fateful day three months earlier. They were journeying back from their honeymoon in Paris when a small animal scurried across the road. Michelle screamed out a warning. Paul swerved to miss the creature, but the car suddenly went into a terrifying spin and violently flipped over, tossing him from the car while his bride remained firmly tethered inside by her seat belt. The car eventually landed right side up and burst into flames. As he lay on the pavement about to lose consciousness, Paul could hear the horrible screams that emanated from the twisted and burning hunk of metal. With much effort, he managed to look upon the wreck. His last recollection was one that would haunt him forever: his beautiful bride’s melting face pressed against the passenger window, hysterically and horrifically pleading for her husband to save her.
He awoke with a scream and pulled his sweat drenched body upright and out of bed with a jolt. At that moment, he heard a voice beckoning him from far away, sending an icy chill through him and causing his heart to race uncontrollably. He hurriedly dressed and made his way out into the snow, his eyes were aflame with both promise and terror.
He screamed at the top of his lungs into the frozen wasteland. “Michelle! Michelle!”
A distant reply echoed his name faintly and he immediately raced in its direction. The voice became more insistent as he went, pleading his name in a mournful strain as he trudged violently against the snowy barrier that spread out before him. In his haste he repeatedly fell, but got back up with a frantic determination, for he now was certain that his bride had come back to him and no power on Earth would stop him from rescuing her. She would not be denied his salvation a second time!
He eventually came upon an opening in the side of a rock wall and hesitated for a moment not knowing which way to turn but was soon guided again by a soft sobbing coming from somewhere in the dark recess. He stepped into the blackness of the cave and at once remembered the few yellow rocks that he had stowed away for such a purpose. He knelt down and pulled from his pocket one of the smaller rocks and placed it on the ground. After a few moments of fumbling in another pocket, he produced a piece of flint and struck it hard upon the rock. A large yellow flame instantly hissed its way into existence, sending the darkness quickly fleeing before him.
He found himself staring into a cavernous room of ice and volcanic rock. As he turned his head from side to side searching this new wonder, he perceived a slight movement out the corner of his eye and he began moving cautiously in its direction. A muffled cry echoed against the walls as he heard once again the distraught voice pleading him forward.
A bone chilling scream then split the frigid air followed by the words, “Paul… please… dear God… save me!”
His heart nearly leapt from his chest as he yelled out, “Michelle! I’m here… I’m coming, sweetheart!”
Up ahead, he could see what appeared to be a shadow moving behind a slab of ice on a ledge high up the rock wall. He felt the urge to run but the path gradually narrowed itself and the steep incline leading to the ledge was treacherously slick. He nervously shuffled his way forward, grasping at the occasional outcropping of rock to steady himself.
The pathet
ic sobbing started once again, which only increased his anguish with every step. He stopped for a moment and looked up. He thought that he could now see the blurry outline of a woman’s face behind the sheet of ice directly ahead. The face began pressing its features against the frozen barrier as though searching for its would be savior.
“Michelle! I’m coming… I’m almost there!” he screamed out, but the face responded by receding back into the ice and becoming shadow once more.
Her diminishing features reignited his urgency and he attempted to hasten his steps but as he did, he lost his footing and fell on his backside. He experienced a moment of sheer terror as he realized that one side of the path had opened up to a black emptiness. One wrong step would mean certain death, but he was determined and quickly regained his composure. He clawed his way on hands and knees the final few yards until he finally reached the ledge itself. Perspiration and tears poured out from his body as he ever so carefully pulled himself up until he was flat against the ice wall.
“I’m here, darling!” he ecstatically screamed through the ice in triumph.
Behind the curtain of ice, a dark figure stirred at his announcement and slowly moved close to where he stood. The two faces seemed no more than a few inches apart but her features were obscured by an outer haze of frost. He frantically layered his breath upon the clouded ice and wiped it clean with the sleeve of his coat so that he could see more clearly but the shock of what appeared before him sent him reeling backward in terror. It was not the soft and gentle face of the beautiful young woman he so lovingly remembered and expected to see; instead it was a gruesome figure wearing a mask of torn and charred flesh! A blood curdling scream then issued forth from the ghastly image, causing him to take another step backward, sealing his fate forever as he slipped over the side and plunged into eternal darkness.
(ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD)
Omni scientists gathered in the company’s boardroom to announce their final test results of the yellow rock. Sitting at the head of the table was Omni’s CEO reading through the report with great relish. He looked up at the scientists and board members present and stated with a huge grin, “By God, this company is going to be rich beyond its wildest dreams!”
His words started an avalanche of excited murmuring among the group. A moment later his eye caught something highlighted in the report. “Ah…what’s this notation at the bottom of the last page?” he asked out loud as everyone followed his lead and turned to the page in question.
“Oh right!” exclaimed one of the scientists at the table. “I was just getting to that, Sir. It seems that the rocks have another unusual quality to them, they contain a very potent chemical that can act as an hallucinogenic, very similar to lysergic acid, or, in laymen’s terms…LSD.”
The CEO raised his eyebrows.
“But!” continued the scientist, “A person would actually have to swallow the rock in order for the effects to manifest.”
The CEO gave a look of concern. “You sure of that?”
“Absolutely!” responded the scientist.
“Well then, gentlemen,” said the CEO with a sigh of relief, “I don’t think we have to worry about the possibility of anyone actually eating our rocks…Eh?”
The remark was followed by a scattering of laughter.
“Then it’s settled, tomorrow we set sail once again for the Island, our fortunes now rest with the progress made there by our young geologist.”
The CEO raised his glass.
“A toast to our lad Westing back at Walrus Island!”
“Here! Here!” came the enthusiastic reply of all present as they raised their glasses high and drank to the young man’s health and long life.
SWEET MARY McBRIDE
Reverend Carmichael has been heard to say on more than one occasion that he never wanted to stray too far from Mary’s side because when the rapture finally comes he fully intends to latch onto her, thereby ensuring his own deliverance as well. Despite her sixty-seven years, Mary would probably blush if she ever heard such nonsense. All the praise and attention showered upon her by friends from church was much too overwhelming for such a lowly and humble servant of God. Her duty, as she saw it, was to minister to the poor and less fortunate and to do the Lord’s bidding in whatever capacity was required of her. For most of her life, she worked tirelessly at that very thing.
On this beautiful Sunday morning, Mary is sitting alone in her garden with a cup of tea in her hand, a bit nervous and a bit apprehensive because in a few minutes her friend Celia would be stopping by to take her to church services. Immediately afterwards, there is to be a party held in her honor. It would surely be a day filled with flowing praises and endless speeches giving full account of her lifetime of good deeds, but Mary is determined to resist the temptation of feeling proud or deserving. Of course, there were many nights spent away from home comforting and nursing sickly members of her congregation back to health, but it was certainly a small price to pay for staying in the good graces of the Lord and besides…she needed the church as much as it needed her; it served to fill an emotional void that was missing in her life, that of feeling wanted and yes… even loved. Richard had never been up to that task; in fact, Mary painfully endured more than forty years of various forms of abuse by her so called husband. She had her church, he had his bottle, and it wasn’t long before the rest of the world stopped inquiring about him because it was painful to watch her try to explain her husband’s continued absence or even the occasional bruised cheek.
Mary sipped her tea and delightfully drank in the solitude of the early morning. She loved how the dew sparkled on the leafy vine that delicately intertwined her trellis and how the golden shafts of morning light played upon the fragrant flowers that she lovingly labored to bring to life. At times she could almost imagine her own garden as that of the fabled Eden; this always sent her heart soaring and kept her spirits aloft for a good part of the day. Aside from church, her garden was the only true pleasure she had ever really known.
Just beyond the tinkling water fountain and on the other side of a patch of bright Petunias is Mary’s pride and joy; a thicket of beautiful red roses grow there from a recently packed mound of earth. Each petal bearing an exquisitely deep and rich luster, quite unlike anything she had been able to achieve to this point; and just in time because the annual flower show is approaching fast. Mary glanced lovingly at her roses. For many years now, she competed in the flower show with her less than stellar offerings but this year she is certain that she has a true contender for first place. A few months earlier, she pondered what her strategy would be for this year’s event and after much deliberation, an idea finally came to her from out of the past. As a matter of fact, it came from something quite bizarre she had heard as a child.
On that day, she spent the morning digging an enormous hole in the corner of her garden. After finishing, she sat on a bench nearby sipping tea and in an odd manner laughing under her breath like a giddy young girl who was abiding the juiciest of gossip. At some point, a bear like roar emanated from the house and moments later, the screen door from the house to the garden burst forth in a loud explosion.
A drunken old man staggered his way out into the garden. “Mary!” he screamed with violent and flammable breath. “Damn you! Where the hell is my whiskey old woman!”
Mary calmly turned to him and pointed toward her morning project.
“There… over there is your horrid tonic old man… in the hole!”
The old man’s red lidded eyes immediately flamed with displeasure as he stumbled his way over to the hole and looked down. Upon realizing that his entire stock of expensive drinking whiskey lay at the bottom, a stream of vile obscenities gushed forth and he turned to give her a sound thrashing for her insolence but a shovel seemed to come out of nowhere and hit him square on the forehead, sending him crashing to the bottom of the hole like a sack of wet corn.
The old man lay there for a moment, bloodied and dazed, then, slowly and wit
h much difficulty, pulled himself up to the rim. When he looked up through blood and sweat, his eyes fell upon a slight figure standing on the edge of the hole silhouetted against an intense midday sun. The shimmer of warm light surrounding the figure gave the impression of an angelic presence bathed in a halo of holy illumination. For a short moment, a calmness washed over the old man as he studied the divine vision that was undoubtedly interceding on his behalf, but his reverie soon came to a horrible end as the figure raised a staff like object high in the air and brought it down upon his neck with surprising force. The sharp edge of the shovel cut deep and severed the old man’s jugular which sent him sprawling to the bottom of the pit once more in a fountain of red spray.
Mary giggled once again softly under her breath as she remembered that fine day. She then turned her thoughts once again to her beautiful roses. “Won’t Celia and the rest of the ladies be jealous of my entry this year!”
The ladies would certainly be curious to learn the secret to her wonderful roses and when they inquired she would only respond with one word: “RICHARD!” The absurdity of the thought made her laugh out loud.
The door- bell chimed and Mary got up from the bench. She straightened her dress and patted her head just to make sure every hair was in place. Her special day had finally arrived and a charge of excitement now surged through her tired old limbs. Her many years of good deeds were finally about to be recognized and rejoiced over by those who loved her the most and at that very moment she was feeling… well… quite deserving of the day… and to be honest… a little annoyed that it had not come any sooner.
Weirder Than Weird Page 9