by Sharon Kleve
“Yes, Prince Lucas, acting King of the Mist, I am in total agreement. Peace throughout the land.”
“You did what? Why would you do that? We had the lowlanders by the figsack!” shouted the king.
“I entered a peace agreement with Marlowe. We are no longer at war. There will be no more fighting and killing each other. No more ambushes. No more planned ‘accidents.’ Have we not lost enough, Father? Marcus. Darius, and countless others? I am sick of death and sick of bloodshed. I declared peace.”
“Well, I do not agree.” The king folded his arms defiantly.
“It is done. Now, I’m going out into the countryside to look for Sarah. This is your last chance to tell me what you did.”
“I did nothing. I swear it. But Lucas, it would never work. A Red cannot be a Mist Princess or the Mist Queen. If either of your brothers were still alive to ascend the throne, then, yes, you and Sarah could go off together and do whatever you wish. But as it is now…”
“I will find her. And we will be together. I will abdicate the Mist throne if I must.”
“Who will rule the kingdom?”
“I don’t care. Now I am going to find Sarah.”
Lucas strode to his horse, mounted, and rode off alone toward the Redlands to where Sarah’s private sanctuary was nestled in the forest. He rode for hours and hours before stumbling upon the waterfalls. Lucas dismounted and carefully navigated the ledge path behind the waterfalls.
“Sarah?” he shouted, banging on the rock wall that he knew to be the force field. “Sarah? It’s Lucas. Let me in. I am not going away. I need to see you. I need to talk to you. Why did you leave me, Sarah? Tell me what I did wrong? Let me fix it. Sarah? Let me in!”
“What the hell is this?” said Jack, the man monitoring the remote camera. “Dimitri? Come take a look at this. Some Bozo is pounding on the force field wall and shouting for Sarah. What should we do?”
“That’s the Mist Prince. How does he even know about the lab?” Dimitri asked.
“I have no idea. Where is Sarah?” asked Jack.
“I’ll pull her up on the GPS and signal her. In the meantime, we have to get the Prince here to pipe down or everyone this side of Mission Control will know the location of our secret base. Go up to the cave entrance. Bring your Taser. Lower the force field and zap his holiness. I’ll be up in a minute as soon as I text Sarah to get here ASAP.”
“It’s ʽHis Highnessʼ His holiness is reserved for the Pope.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just shut him up.”
“Dimitri? What is it?” Sarah asked, looking down at her mobile phone.
“Where the hell are you? We need you back at the base.”
“Sorry, bud. I’m on vacation on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. I am lying on the beach in my little red bikini, drinking something called Bliss in a Jar. And it really is. I have two weeks coming and I’m taking it. It’s been cleared by headquarters. I need some downtime. I’m exhausted. My mission is complete. The Crown Prince is safe and alive. I returned him to the castle. I’m done. Really done, Dimitri. I can’t do this anymore. What do you want?”
“Your good friend, the Mist Prince, is here at the lab, banging on the force field wall, calling out your name, making enough noise to be heard back in Houston. I sent Jack up with a Taser to zap him.
“But if you’re too busy catching rays on the beach to come back and help me fix this mess, well, then I’m sorry to bother you. Don’t forget to use your sunscreen or you’ll sizzle up something ugly like you did when we were on Kropanga. You couldn’t wear clothes for days, remember? Have a good time. Goodbye. Aloha.”
Dimitri disconnected and went up to help Jack with the prince’s unconscious body.
“Did you find Sarah?” asked Jack.
“Yep.”
“Is she coming right now?”
“Yep. Let’s put this big boy in a stasis tube until we figure out what to do with him.”
“Will Sarah get fired over this?” asked Jack.
“She might.”
“Can’t we do something? Cover it up?”
“I don’t know. The prince can’t be returned to his home with information on our base location, our existence, and who knows what else he’s picked up,” said Dimitri.
They stripped Lucas down to his underwear, arranged him in a stasis tube, and closed the door. Jack turned it on and checked Lucas’s vitals.
“Okay. He’s good. Whatever happened between you and Sarah? You two were pretty tight,” Jack asked.
“Cultural differences,” said Dimitri. “I am human. She is…something else.”
“But she is beautiful and smart and funny.”
“Yes, Jack. Breathtakingly beautiful. Flawless skin like a white china doll…all over. Seriously, I have seen more skin color on dead people.”
“But I never saw you happier.”
“And that was the problem. I was happy all the time. I was drunk-happy on love. Was I truly happy? Or was I the victim of Red mind control? We never argued. Never. I fought with every other girlfriend I ever had, but never with Sarah. Was she manipulating my thoughts?”
“Oh, I get it now. You broke up with her because you were too happy. Must be a Russian thing, pal, because we Americans like that over the top, too happy feeling.”
“Happiness can cloud your judgement.”
“Ah, yes, wasn’t it Fyodor Dostoyevsky who said ‘Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.’ Wasn’t that it? I’m lucky we Texans don’t feel that way. Are you ever sorry you let her go?”
“Only when I allow myself to think about it, Jack. Sometimes, a word will bring it all flooding back to me. Today Sarah said ‘bliss.’ She was drinking a Bliss on the Beach in Hawaii when she called me back. She was just too much for me. Too much woman, too wise, too strong, an all too brilliant cosmic being of light. She’s too much for this clown in the tube, too.”
Sarah showed up inside the lab, wearing a Hawaiian shirt over her bikini.
“What?”
“Your medieval boyfriend was banging on the front door, wailing your name, like Marlon Brando screaming ‘Stella’ in A Streetcar Named Desire,” said Dimitri. “How did he know the location of the secret lab?”
“I brought him here to clean him up before taking him back to Mist Castle.”
“When?” asked Jack. “Where were we?”
“Good question,” said Sarah. “Neither one of you were here.”
“How long were you here with him?” asked Dimitri.
“Oh, less than an hour. I burned his clothing in the incinerator to throw the dogs off the trail. We showered and dressed and we were off to the castle on the mountaintop.”
“Geez, Sarah, are you crazy? Top secret means top secret. You could be terminated for this.”
“It was the safest, most efficient option at the time. Trekking through the craggy midlands on foot or horseback is treacherous. There are no navigational landmarks. The midlands are just trees and rocks and rocks and trees. There was no way he could find his way back to the base by himself.”
“Well, he did.”
“Hmm…I’m impressed.” Sarah smiled.
“He can’t be returned to his home knowing all he knows. We need to eliminate him.”
“No. I can erase his memory, all the way back to the dungeon, before my first visit. He’ll still be able to go home and fulfill his destiny as the king who unites his little island kingdom and fathers the man who eliminates starvation and disease and…”
“About that,” said Jack. “We’ve got a problem. Major screw-up here. The timelines no longer match. This is no longer the prince we want.”
“What? This is the only prince we’ve got left,” said Sarah. “How could the timelines possibly change like that?”
“I don’t know. All I know is Lucas was the Crown Prince of the Mist who made peace, united the kingdom, and fathered the son, Ren Wa
lker, who discovers terraforming and makes this little island a large and bountiful country. And Ren eliminates starvation in his home world and finds the genetic cure for disease. Lucas was the father of the man who formulates the one single little injection given at birth that eliminates all forms of disease, but he’s not anymore.”
“So it was Marcus?” Dimitri asked.
“I don’t know. There’s no mention of any of the Walker princes. And these poor little shmoos who think this pretty little mountain is the whole world, are living on borrowed time, because a major tsunami will eliminate the entire island in less than a month. No survivors.”
“What?” asked Sarah. “When did the timeline change so drastically? And how could that happen?”
“Again, I don’t know,” said Jack. “Somebody must’ve stepped on a butterfly.”
“Red, listen to me, it’s time to cut loose and run,” said Dimitri. “This mission in unsalvageable. It’s time to turn off the stasis tube and fire up the engines. We blow the ship out of the side of this hill and get as far away from here as soon as possible. We go back home.”
“No. You and Jack go. Lucas and I will live out our lives in obscurity somewhere, but together.”
“Wherever you take him, he’ll be a misfit,” counseled Dimitri. “Let him go.”
“You don’t understand. He was a misfit in his own castle, in his own time. I would rather have him with me and be just two regular people. Eat. Sleep. Go to work. Pay bills. Come home. Watch TV. Make love.”
“Sarah, I don’t think the choice is yours to make. We have rules. We must abide by them. He needs to be eliminated. You’re overworked. You simply need a vacation. Then you need to come back to work. We’ll start all over again, solving a new dilemma, somewhere else, in some other time. We need your skills. We need you.”
“No. I’m done with this. No more. No more meddling in people’s lives. No more playing God. No more deciding who gets saved and who doesn’t. I’m done. I quit.”
“What will you do? Where will you go?”
“Back to Hawaii. But 1970s. I can run a little free clinic. Lucas can…plant stuff. Jack, can you print us some documents?”
“Sure. The whole ball of wax. Birth certificate with the little raised seal. Passport, with some stamps so they don’t look brand new. Driver’s licenses. Some cash to get you started. College transcripts. You, medicine and engineering. For him, I’ll need some specifics.”
“Lucas Walker. Six feet, one inch, 175 pounds. Mother: Renata Reegle Walker. Renata. I just caught that he named his son, Ren, after his mother. Father: Theodore Walker. Birthdate…Jan. 1, 1950. Birthplace…London, England. That will explain his formal speech patterns. Degree? Botany.”
“And you? Same as your old ones but change the birth year to 1950 also?”
“Fine. And what if headquarters asks you where I am?”
“We don’t know nothing,” said Jack.
“You didn’t return to base when your mission was complete,” said Dimitri. “I believe the term is…missing in action after exemplary service. I’ll miss you, Red.”
“I’ll miss you, too—both of you. You’ve been like brothers to me. Thank you for everything.”
She hugged Dimitri and Jack.
Jack thrust a leather briefcase into her hand. “I also got you some land, good for growing pineapples. And there’s room for a clinic. I gave Prince Charming there some Hawaiian blood so he can be a landowner. Good luck, Red Sarah,” he said. “Have a good life.”
Sarah pushed some buttons on the side of the stasis tube. The curved glass doors retracted into the sides of the tube.
“Clothes. He needs clothes,” said Sarah. “Pants and shirt.”
“Look at him. Look at us. We don’t have anything that’ll fit him,” said Dimitri.
“Improvise.”
Moments later, Dimitri came back with a pair of cut-off jeans, and Jack with a button down shirt. They helped her dress him, then stepped back.
“Sarah, please reconsider. This is an action that will cause even more unexpected reactions. Who knows how many other timelines will be distorted because of this?” Dimitri pleaded.
“Yes, who knows? Maybe none.”
Sarah carefully crawled on top of Lucas and held him tightly. “Come on, honey. You have to wake up now. We’re going home, a new home. Just me and you. Not Marlowe. Not Mist. We’re going to Hawaii. Oh, you’re going to love it there. Sunshine. Palm trees. Blue skies. Coconuts. Blue water. Ukulele music. Pineapples. You can plant pineapples, if you want. Do you like pineapples? They’re kind of like strawberries, but big and yellow, and really hard to get into.
“Sarah?” he whispered.
“Yes, Lucas, it’s me. You’re going to have to help me because I can’t pick you up. Wake up, honey, and hold on tight.”
She felt his hand grip her neck.
“Here we go.”
ABOUT CAROL ANN KAUFFMAN
Cancer has touched all of our lives. Each of us knows someone, or loves someone, who has been affected by this horrible disease. My father, my mother, and myself have all had bouts with skin cancer. Luckily, with vigilance and a very good doctor, each instance was caught in time and dealt with effectively.
Not so with my favorite aunt, Aunt Rita. My Aunt Rita was the sweetest, most lovable person in the world. She was a beautiful person with a smile that lit up the room. When she married my uncle, she brought such happiness and joy into our family. Active in church and school events, working full time, she still had time to make each one of us feel special. (But I was her favorite.) She was the grounded member of a very volatile Italian family who could remain calm and focused while the rest of the family was at fever pitch.
My aunt was stricken with breast cancer. But treatments back then were not as effective as they are today. She had surgery, post-surgical treatments like chemo, and a lengthy recuperation. It was a long, hard road for her. But she survived it. We all thought she was safe. Then we heard those suffocatingly terrible words: It spread.
Our lives were forever changed with the loss of this sunbeam we called our Aunt Rita. When she left us, she took joy and laughter, sunshine and happiness with her. Our world lost its color and flavor.
I dedicate this short story, Red Sarah, to my beautiful aunt, Rita Chairmonte Latiano. I love you and I miss you. Hugs, Carol Ann.
Carol Ann Kauffman is the author of seventeen books to date, from short stories to full-length novels. Her novels, classified as romantic action adventures with a sci-fi/ fantasy twist, and mysteries. They’re about life, love, loss, and lunacy. She is a retired teacher from a local school district in Ohio, where she taught for thirty-five years.
She has worked as a printer, managed a department store office, worked as an insurance agent, and worked in the hardware and automotive departments of a large store. She was a Red Cross volunteer.
Carol loves to travel; her favorite places being Italy and Aruba, which show up in her novels quite a bit. She loves to play Bridge and to garden. She grows African violets and orchids. Carol loves dachshunds and trains. She is the author of the Time After Time series, which follows a pair of lovers through their many lifetimes together, and the Cat Collier Mysteries, as well as holiday short stories with Books To Go Now Publishers.
Connect with Carol on Twitter at @Cay47. Visit her website at carolannkauffman.weebly.com or visit her blog, Vision and Verse at visionandverse.blogspot.com.
Facebook: hps://www.facebook.com/pages/Carol-Ann-Kauffman-Author/248958045181202tt
Website: http://carolannkauffman.weebly.com/carols-blog.html
Blog: http://visionandverse.blogspot.com/?m=1h
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/12687826-carol-ann-kauffman
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Carol-Ann- Kauffman/e/B0076OMJY8/
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/carolannkauff/
Day of the Dead by J.R. Wirth
Suspense/Thriller
CHAPTER ONE
T
hursday, October 31st. – Halloween (All Hallows Eve)
“Tomorrow is Dia de los Muertos,” the redhead said. He seemed tall. In fact, at that moment, he appeared extremely tall. Maybe it was my fear that intensified his image. I can’t say for sure, but what I do know is that we all knew the redhead as Red. He never did state his real name—intentionally, I’m sure.
I remember the day he first rolled into the parking lot. Dark clouds lined the afternoon sky, highlighting the gloom that was about to set in. The dark day brought with it the first real chill of the fall. We all seemed to shiver and pulled our coats tight, as we made our way through the after-school crowd, heading toward Cali’s ‘78 Honda Civic. Though the clothes were heavy, the mood was light. It was a Thursday and the beginning of a long weekend, and everyone was anticipating a fun-filled weekend with friends.
I was the first to notice the muscle car when it pulled into a vacated spot next to the Honda. It wasn’t a regular in the school’s unofficial registry of cool cars, but it was definitely worth a second look. Soon the engine revved, getting the attention of all within listening distance. When Red got out, he leaned on the driver’s side door with his arms folded, staring straight at us. It was if he had us picked out all along. Maybe he did.
Red wore a black leather jacket with a black turtleneck underneath. It was a polished look, and seemed to quickly get Cali’s attention—I heard her clear her throat. Whenever she cleared her throat it meant she was too excited to talk. My reaction, to her reaction, was immediate. It caused the hair on my neck to rise, and the curd in my stomach to churn.
“Sweet ass, stud warning,” Cali whispered with a giggle, and winked at her BFF.
And there it is, I thought, confirmation that she likes the new kid in town. The one with the cool ride. Well, isn’t he special?
And, as if Red had heard Cali, he stared right at her. With an unmistakable, lust-filled smile, the attraction was beyond noticeable. And it seemed equally strong for both.