INSOMNIA
By Jeremy Robinson
NOVELS by JEREMY ROBINSON
Threshold (coming March 2011)
The Last Hunter
Instinct
Pulse
Kronos
Antarktos Rising
Beneath
Raising the Past
The Didymus Contingency
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PRAISE FOR WORKS OF JEREMY ROBINSON
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"Rocket-boosted action, brilliant speculation, and the recreation of a horror out of the mythologic past, all seamlessly blend into a rollercoaster ride of suspense and adventure." -- James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author of JAKE RANSOM AND THE SKULL KING'S SHADOW
"With THRESHOLD Jeremy Robinson goes pedal to the metal into very dark territory. Fast-paced, action-packed and wonderfully creepy! Highly recommended!" --Jonathan Maberry, NY Times bestselling author of ROT & RUIN
"Jeremy Robinson is the next James Rollins" -- Chris Kuzneski, NY Times bestselling author of THE SECRET CROWN
"If you like thrillers original, unpredictable and chock-full of action, you are going to love Jeremy Robinson..."-- Stephen Coonts, NY Times bestselling author of DEEP BLACK: ARCTIC GOLD
"How do you find an original story idea in the crowded action-thriller genre? Two words: Jeremy Robinson." -- Scott Sigler, NY Times Bestselling author of ANCESTOR
"There's nothing timid about Robinson as he drops his readers off the cliff without a parachute and somehow manages to catch us an inch or two from doom." -- Jeff Long, New York Times bestselling author of THE DESCENT
"Greek myth and biotechnology collide in Robinson's first in a new thriller series to feature the Chess Team... Robinson will have readers turning the pages..." -- Publisher's Weekly
"Jeremy Robinson’s THRESHOLD is one hell of a thriller, wildly imaginative and diabolical, which combines ancient legends and modern science into a non-stop action ride that will keep you turning the pages until the wee hours. Relentlessly gripping from start to finish, don’t turn your back on this book!" -- Douglas Preston, NY Times bestselling author of IMPACT
"Jeremy Robinson is an original and exciting voice." -- Steve Berry, NY Times bestselling author of THE EMPEROR'S TOMB
"Jeremy Robinson is a fresh new face in adventure writing and will make a mark in suspense for years to come." --David Lynn Golemon, NY Times bestselling author of LEGEND
INSOMNIA
By Jeremy Robinson
© 2011 Jeremy Robinson. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information e-mail all inquiries to: [email protected]
Visit Jeremy Robinson on the World Wide Web at: www.jeremyrobinsononline.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction
Insomnia
The Eater
Harden’s Tree
Star Crossed Killers
Counting Sheep
Hearing Aid
Dark Seed of the Moon
From Above
Bonus: Bought and Paid For
About the Author
INTRODUCTION
I don’t write many short stories. In fact, the seven stories (plus one bonus) in INSOMNIA represent my entire collection of short stories. Before you call me lazy, keep in mind that I’ve written thirteen screenplays and just as many screenplay treatments, I have eight novels in print, four more in e-book (as of this writing—several more are on the way) and I write three to four books per year. So I don’t have a lot of time for writing or selling shorts.
What this means is that all but three of these stories are exclusive to this collection. FROM ABOVE and HARDEN’S TREE were previously published in magazines, and BOUGHT AND PAID FOR is part of a podcast novel by Scott Sigler (see the story for details), but the rest have never been seen before.
There is no running theme between the stories, other than perhaps characters running for their lives. Most of the stories are experimental—I use first person perspective for many of them, which I typically don’t do in my novels. And I touch on a variety of genres including action, horror, science fiction, sci-fi noir and even romantic thriller. The result is an interesting mishmash of stories that match my novels in intensity, action and thrills, but touch on subjects and themes I might normally shy away from.
For those that are interested, I’ve provided brief afterwords at the end of each story, detailing what I remember about its writing and what I think about the story now.
I hope you enjoy all seven stories and the bonus story. Thanks for reading!
-- Jeremy Robinson
INSOMNIA
“What’s good about it?” I say, in response to George’s peppy Good Morning.
“You wake up on the wrong side of bed?” George asks.
I shoot George an angry glance.
“Just a joke,” George says. “You forget your Feene today?”
George is a kind man, but he’s always butting into other peoples’ business. The shift just started and he’s already running off at the mouth.
“You’re kidding, right? I haven’t got into any trouble since I was a kid.”
George leans in close, like we’re pals, and says, “I heard Jep, down in shipping, missed his Feene jump at the beginning of the shift. People say he’s looking pale...sick-like.”
My hands freeze above the production line and three ducks get past me without heads attached. “Damnit.”
“Don’t worry about them, Henderson,” George says, “Missing a few duck heads isn’t like not taking your Feene. Think Jep will make the twelve hours before the next jump?”
George is really getting on my nerves. I missed three in a row! Of course, technically I had
only missed two, because I usually go every other one. When I’m first in line I like to give the other fellas a break. There are four of them after me. They’d probably like having a few more heads to put on, but I enjoy picking up the slack for other people—just the kind of guy I am.
I look to my right and see a line of fifty men, some attaching duck heads, some attaching wings, some painting beaks orange, all so every kid in the world can have the same new duck.
I remember my duck. Seems to me the orange on the beaks was brighter back then. Everything was brighter back then. George keeps talking, maybe fifteen minutes before he realizes I’m not listening anymore. Damn managers are all the same. All talk and no work. Sometimes I wonder why they even need the Feene...they got all the time in the world to sleep.
Sleep.
I push the word out of my head and go back to work.
Pick up the duck.
Put on the head.
Put the duck down.
Pick up the duck.
Put on the head.
Put the duck down.
Nine hours of the same.
I know my ten hours are almost up when my arms start to shake and my eyes begin to blur. Nothing a little Feene can’t fix, but it will be two more hours before we get another jump. Just enough time to walk home, eat, shave, shower and walk back. Then the next shift begins and we do the same thing again, seven days a week, every day of the year. It’s a living.
The bell rings right on time. I finish the duck in my hand, put it on the conveyor belt and turn toward the door. The fifty other men working the belt with me shuffle toward the door at the same time, falling into a natural formation that has sort of just happened over the past twenty years.
Once we reach the courtyard, we’re hit by a burst of cool air that occasionally wafts in from the ocean. I pause at the door and take a deep breath. The air is sweet. Someone bumps me from behind. “C’mon Henderson, you’re putting us a few seconds back.”
I enter the courtyard and take my usual place in the growing crowd of hundreds of men, all filing out of various doors around the Happy Duck fabrication building. I’m almost to the gate when I see him.
Jep.
He looks like hell, stumbling forward, bumping into men. His swollen eyes are surrounded by dark rings. I’ve never seen a man who’s missed a Feene jump, but I know the second I see him—Jep’s in trouble. He’s five single file lines away. Too far for me reach him before passing through the gates.
It’s another three minutes before I hit the sidewalk and turn to walk down my street. I glance back, thinking of Jep, and I catch a glimpse of him spilling out of the factory gate. His feet look heavy and his head is rolling around like a newborn baby’s. I see his eyes close, and a panic sweeps across my body.
Jep lurches forward and begins to fall, but I’m still quick enough to catch the man. After dogging past three workers and bounding the rest of the distance in four steps, I clutch him in my arms and push him back to his feet. I’ve never woken anyone up before, and I’m not sure what to do. I slap him hard across the face.
“Jep! Snap out of it!”
Jep’s eyes launch open for a moment and then sink back down, but he’s awake. He must have realized that he’d slept, because he gets jittery, real quick. “Oh God. I wasn’t asleep, was I?”
The look in my eyes tells him that he was.
“No...I was only a few minutes late...I was sick!”
“Sick? The Feene takes care of that.”
“It was something I ate....” Jep looks at the ground. “I...I had to take a second shower.”
“Forget about it,” I say. “You weren’t in REM sleep, so you’re okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I lie. I’ve never seen someone in REM sleep before. “You don’t hear any sirens do you?”
We listen and hear nothing but the hundreds of feet walking away from Happy Duck. He relaxes.
“C’mon,” I say. “Come to my place, and I’ll keep you awake until the next jump.”
“I don’t think I can go two more hours.”
I smile, “I have something that will keep you awake.”
It takes us fifteen minutes to walk to my house; five minutes longer than usual. And it was five minutes before we headed out... I assume it will take just as long to get back, because he’ll be even more tired. That leaves me with an hour and twenty minutes...a full twenty minutes less than I’m used to.
I practically drag Jep into the house and sit him down at the kitchen table. He looks ready to pass out again, but he perks up some when he gets a whiff of what I’m brewing. He sits up straight.
“What’s that smell?”
I pour a cup and bring it to him. He smells the dark liquid and looks momentarily revitalized. “It...it smells incredible!”
He’s already waking up.
Jep takes a sip of the steamy liquid, then another and another, with each gulp looking more aware of his surroundings. He observes the contents of my kitchen, taking in the stainless steel fridge, dishwasher and sink, but after taking another sip, his attention is brought back to the drink. “You have to tell me, Henderson, what is this?”
I smile. “Coffee.”
As expected, Jep spits out the coffee in his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve. “Coffee is illegal!”
I nod.
“But you can...how did you get it? Why do you...?” Jep looks back at the coffee and smiles. “Where can I get some?” He takes a long drag and sets the mug back on the table. “So this is what they used in the old days, huh? I have to say, it feels better than what they give us now.”
“Lacks the punch,” I say. “This will tide you over until the next jump, but you’ll be worse off than when you began once it wears off. I keep it in the house for when I’m feeling a bit slow.”
He smiles and says, “Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it,” Jep says. “I owe you for this.”
“You can repay me by taking a shower double time so I can get one in before the next shift starts.”
George chugs his remaining coffee, and I point him toward the bathroom.
When I hear the water turn on I head to the changing room, what I remember my parents calling a bedroom, only adults weren’t allowed to have beds...also against the law. Beds encourage sleep. Sleep leads to dreams. Dreams lead to chaos.
Our society has become a crime-free utopia thanks to Feene. No one has dreams. Everyone works. We have become an all-efficient world that can pump out a million ducks a week. And beds aren’t part of the picture...for anyone—
But me.
I open the door to my bedroom and plop down on my bed.
It’s soft.
It’s warm.
It’s Heaven.
It took me five years to build, rushing to the lumber yard to pick up scraps during my two-hour breaks and assembling a frame from what I remembered of my childhood. Kids could sleep...until they were eight. Then they go on Feene like the rest of us, go to school in ten-hour shifts like the rest of us and eventually go to work like the rest of us.
It is perfect.
We all have houses.
We all have food.
We all have work.
There was a time when some people had none of the above. Not anymore.
I close my eyes and pretend to sleep, knowing full well that it’s impossible with the Feene still in my system. I roll over onto my stomach, feeling the soft cushion I’d fashioned from years of old clothes, sewn and taped together. It’s ugly as hades, but for me, it’s the softest thing my body has ever touched.
Laying here with my eyes closed, I let my mind drift. A smile creeps onto my face as I remember my youth...my yellow duck. But then my mind drifts further...to the smell. The sweet smell I had experienced after leaving Happy Duck earlier today. Where had it come from? I let my mind follow the possibilities, and I begin seeing a land covered in grass, with t
rees and animals. The wind blows through the trees and pulls the fragrance toward my nose. I can smell it again. A tear forms in my eye.
They can keep me from sleeping, but they can’t keep me from dreaming.
I shoot to my feet and listen, holding my breath. The water is off.
After wiping my eye dry, I sneak out the door.
Jep stands in the kitchen, toweling his hair dry. I look at the clock. A half hour has passed. Not enough time left for me to take a shower.
“Sorry I took so long,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I’m still moving a little slow.”
“Don’t worry about it. Won’t be the first time I skipped a shower for a little snooze.”
Jep’s eyes open wide. “What?”
I laugh out loud. “Joking.”
Jeps laughs nervously.
I fix some food and we eat it as quickly as possible before heading out. We have twenty minutes before my shift starts, twenty three before Jep’s.
The walk ends up taking twenty-one minutes.
We’re in line at the jump station, which looks like toll booth resized for people. I show my card as usual and wait for the jump. Nothing happens. I turn to the attendant, forehead wrinkled. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re late, and efficiency rules are efficiency rules. You’ll have to do without for this shift.”
I just stare at him. I’ve never missed a jump before.
The attendant reaches past me and scans Jep’s card. A second later he produces a gel-cap pill, filled with a rainbow swirl of liquid. I begin to salivate as I watch Jep eagerly swallow the pill down. Jep looks at me apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’ll help you home when the shift is out.”
I head for my section and turn back to Jep. “Don’t worry about me,” I say in an almost whisper. “I had enough coffee to keep me wide awake for two shifts.” I hold my index finger to my lips and shush loudly with a smile.
Insomnia and Seven More Short Stories Page 1