Altered America

by Ingham, Martin T.

  "You could have been useful, Mister Spinnaker," the businessman said as he dragged Thomas' dying body back into the subway station. "But you had to be difficult, didn't you? Your stupid stunt posed a real threat to my operation, and threats have to be removed to keep this city running. The people would revolt if they knew I harness their souls for electricity. But that is the price of progress.”

  As darkness claimed him, Thomas wondered how long it would be before the price of progress far exceeded the value of life.

  * * *

  Thomas Spinnaker's body was dumped unceremoniously into the East River, during the blackout that lasted for three days—it was eventually fixed as new "generators" were installed. Thomas' disappearance was investigated by the NYPD, but to no avail. He was merely one of a number of disappearances in New York in the early 20th Century, as the city moved to further embrace electricity.

  The lights of Longacre Square, renamed Times Square the next year, became renowned around the world.

  Indeed, it was progress.

  The Black Blizzard

  by Philip Overby

  The minotaur slurped the milk from his tin cup before skipping it across the floor of Rodney's Tavern. He snorted and sulked in the corner, the soles of his dirty bare feet the only thing I could see poking out from the shadows near the stripped-down pool table. Chains rattled as he settled in for another night of groaning and scraping his horns against the wallpaper.

  I rolled an apple to him. It hit his foot—my kindness completely disregarded. I expected as much.

  "Just a couple more days, Rodney, I promise." My brother Jimmy sipped from a glass of water, the only thing he ever ordered—steamed Rodney something fierce.

  The wind howled outside in answer. Rodney waited for it to die down.

  "Getting bad out there." Jimmy smirked and plugged up his ears before Rodney could give him an answer.

  Rodney cupped his hands over his mouth to shout across the bar, even though Jimmy, myself, and the minotaur were his only patrons. "You said that last week, Jim."

  "Two more days," Jimmy pleaded.

  The folds creased in Rodney's forehead. So many folds I could have sworn the old bartender's head was made of blankets. He was the first half black, half New York elf I'd ever met. He aged more like a human. Mostly he got strange looks around our parts, but he welcomed anyone to his tavern. Bad thing was, most people had left town since shit hit the fan with the stock market, the brazen goblin raids, and the drought that never seemed to end.

  Rodney puffed on a stubby cigar. "I only have so much charity in my heart, you know?"

  Jimmy crossed his heart as he was wont to do. "I'm telling you, Rodney, two hundred dollars, plus interest for every night."

  "The wife's getting ancy, I'm telling you." Rodney coughed in a cloud of smoke. "She knows I'm hiding something. The dogs are acting wonky. Howling at all hours of the night and shit."

  "Two hundred," Jimmy said. "Swear it." He turned to me, slugging me in the arm. "I'm good for it, ain't I, Carl?"

  "Sure thing," I said, clutching my arm. "You're good for it."

  I punched him back in the shoulder, so hard his mouth hung open. He gave me a sly smile. That "Charmer's Smile" he used on the ladies in New York City before coming back to Oklahoma. Least he said all the flappers and elvish gals used to go wild for it. That and his accent. I wondered what they'd think of me in New York. A dream I'd held on to for too long. I imagined even during all the doom and gloom that Black Tuesday brought, there could still be some joy left. At least on the rosy cheeks of the women that Jimmy told me so much about. They'd love me in New York, I just knew it. The girls around town used to say I was sweeter and more handsome than Jimmy ever was. I believed it.

  The minotaur scraped his horns hard against the wall. A strip of wallpaper hung loose like flayed flesh.

  "He's got to do that?" Rodney slapped a dirty towel against his hand.

  "He's special." Jimmy finished off his water and swaggered over to the minotaur, just out of reach. Close enough to prove he wasn't scared, far enough away for me to know he was. "Twenty dollars at the county fair. I told you that?"

  "Yeah, and I wish you'd stop it," I said. "Ma always said you bragged too much."

  "Well, her and Pa sauntered off to California, didn't they? Without even a kiss goodbye, a kiss my ass, or anything." Jimmy knelt down eye level with the minotaur. "This big bastard is our ticket to meet them."

  The minotaur lunged forward, the chains around his neck buckling from the brace on the wall.

  "Here, eat this." Jimmy scooped up the apple and beaned the minotaur right in the head with it. It roared in response. "I'm telling you, he'll make us big money in California. They go wild for this kind of shit out there."

  I cringed at the mention of California. Everyone seemed to think that was the ticket out of the Dust Bowl. But I had my severe doubts, about California and the minotaur. "You think?" I folded my arms. "I mean, I haven't seen him do shit except tear things up."

  "O ye of little faith." Jimmy gave a mock gasp, stood up and poked me in the chest. I always hated when he did that. Bony damn finger. "He can fight, I'll tell you that much. Seen him gore two goblins right in the mush. Two at a time even."

  "So what?" I laughed. "I could punt a goblin into next week myself. No big feat, that."

  "When have you punted a goblin anywhere?" Jimmy pushed me again. "You slip off to Oklahoma City one night?"

  "Nah," I said. "One tried to steal Missy Jade's purse and I walloped him something good. One of the bright green ones, too. Not those puny red ones."

  "What you do, Carl?" Rodney spoke up. "A kid like you roughing up a goblin? Surprised you didn't give him a nickel for a bag of popcorn."

  "What you mean?"

  "You've got the soft heart," Rodney said. "I see how you look at that old beast over there. You want to let him loose, don't you?"

  "Well, and why not?" I said. "He don't deserve to be chained up. He's a living creature of God's green Earth like anything else."

  "He's a damn man with a bull's head," Jimmy said. "He ain't nothing but for us to play with. A joke of nature."

  I shrugged. "I don't think so. I read in the paper— "

  "Here we go," Jimmy said, rolling the cue ball on the pool table. "Give us some of that good college learning Pa and Ma wasted on you."

  I scowled at my brother. He never did get the hint that that was a sore spot for me. Getting kicked out of college for practicing "black magic" wasn't my proudest moment. Perhaps Jimmy liked getting the dig in as much as he could. Being that he was a simple man and I got all the talent. I couldn't help it if I could light a cigarette with my fingers. Seemed a cute trick that the college girls loved. Just did it one too many times. Lucky they let me slide without making too big of a deal. I saw a flicker of terror in the dean's eyes. Maybe that saved me total public humiliation.

  "Leave the kid alone," Rodney said, grinning. "He might burn the soles right off your boots if you're not careful."

  Jimmy gave a nervous laugh, mostly covered up by the shutters cracking against the windows. "He wouldn't dare. And ruin his ticket out of here? Ha!"

  "Go on, Carl," Rodney said. "Tell us about what you read in the paper. "

  Most of my thoughts on the subject of other living beings were shut out. I knew better than to even open my mouth. Anything that didn't jive with the "human suffering" story was struck down by folks like Jimmy. "The stock market crash hit other living beings harder than us, all I'm saying. You know how many elves committed suicide? Thousands. How many goblins lost their coal mining jobs? Thousands."

  "Well, elves were living high on the hog," Jimmy said. "They don't know what it's like to live in the thick of it like us." Always picking and choosing what he wanted. I guess Jimmy always danced around the truth the best way he could. He still never directly asked me about my magic. I was surprised. Seemed like the perfect thing to exploit for a gambler and vagabond like him.

  "I've seen s
ome elf farmers now and again," I mumbled.

  "You both forget I'm half-elf?" Rodney slapped the towel on the bar. "Now shut it with the politics. I got to close up for the night."

  Before Jimmy could open his mouth again—most likely to shout me down—the door flung open. A hot wind blew in, kicking up dust in Rodney's Tavern. A frail figure tossed his hat on the floor and shook the dust from his skeletal frame. He turned and spat several times before forcing the door shut again. Coughing, he slammed his hand on the bar. "Water."

  Rodney recoiled back, frozen in the midst of cleaning a glass. "Huh?"

  "Water, man," the figure said, his voice raspy. "Please."

  Rodney poured the man a glass from a heavy pitcher. His eyes narrowed as he slid it over to him. "Here you go."

  I stepped forward. "What's going on out there, mister?”

  He slurped noisily from the glass of water. "Damnit. Another?" The frail man lunged for the pitcher of water.

  Rodney snatched it out of his reach. "Answer the kid. What's going on? Why you all in a fluster?"

  "Black blizzard." He panted, the droopy skin hanging from his face wobbling to and fro. "About two miles out."

  "Shit," I said. "I knew it."

  The minotaur snorted in the corner, jerking on his chains. Even though he never spoke, I suspected he understood English.

  "Water?" The frail man reached out again.

  "One more cup, then you have to go," Rodney said. "All of you have to go. I have to get back to the house."

  "You don't want to do that," the frail man said.

  "My wife and kids are there," Rodney said. "I'm going and all of you will just have to find somewhere else to hang out."

  "But—" Jimmy began.

  "And take that beast with you." Rodney pointed to the minotaur and then commenced gathering up his coat, hat, and ring of keys. "I'm serious. Get the hell out."

  The frail man pulled a pistol from his pants and waved it at Rodney. "Didn't want to do this. But, yeah. Go on. Sit. And keep the water coming."

  I raised my hands. Jimmy did the same. A minute passed with the frail man pointing the gun at us, coughing into the back of his hand several times, body shaking. It was the quietest I'd ever heard Jimmy in my whole life.

  "Things have to go smoothly," the frail man said. "You understand? Don't want to do this. I have to, though. If we all want to live."

  "What do you mean, mister?" I asked. "Please just let us go."

  "My wife," Rodney said, his voice barely a whisper. "My kids. I need to get to them. Get them to our storm shelter."

  The frail man shook his head, dust falling from his straw-like hair. "I'm taking that beast you have there. Then, I'll go."

  "Wait a minute," Jimmy said, stepping forward. "You look a little different with all that dust on you, but—"

  The frail man pointed the gun squarely at Jimmy's chest. "Remember me, right?"

  Jimmy's face went pale. "Yeah, yeah. You're the guy from the circus. Mr. Moss?"

  Moss nodded. "It was a mistake selling that beast to you. I need to get it back. Now."

  "Now, you sold it to me fair and square." Jimmy's voice went up in volume. Even with a gun pointed in his face he still had to use that "I'm right, you're wrong" tone with everyone.

  "Jimmy, just give the man—"

  Moss pointed the gun to me. "You got the key?"

  "Me? No."

  "Who has the key?" Moss frantically pointed the gun to each of us, eyes darting and wild. "Cough it up. I won't say it again."

  The wind howled louder. The minotaur made a horrifying lowing sound in response. It reveberated in my ears.

  "You're wasting time!" Moss pulled the hammer back. "I won't say it again."

  Jimmy lowered his arms, seething. "Go on then. Shoot me. I should've known better. That minotaur's my one chance at success and you're stripping it away from me. Just go on. Put me out of my misery."

  "Jimmy, don't—"

  Moss's eyes widened. "I'll do it. Blow your brains all over the ceiling."

  Rodney made a sudden movement and Moss spun and shot towards him. The bullet hit a liquor bottle behind the bar, dropping shards of glass into Rodney's face. He screamed out and faltered against the bar before sliding behind it. Jimmy took his chance. He rushed Moss, barreling him over. They both gripped the gun, struggling to try to get control of it. I watched, my eyes watering. The howls increased outside and the minotaur bashed its head against the wall so hard it cracked the wood.

  "Stop," I said weakly. Then louder. "Stop!"

  "You son of a bitch!" Jimmy rolled around on the floor with Moss, a tangle of limbs. "I'll kill you!"

  Jimmy punched Moss in the face and the gun went free, skittering across the floor. A knee to the groin got Jimmy off Moss. Eyes locked on the gun, the frail man clawed his way across the floor even as Jimmy grasped at his ankle.

  I stood nearby, powerless.

  The fire jumped to my fingers, smoke curling around my knuckles. "I said stop!"

  A fireball lobbed from my fingertips, skipping across the wood before tumbling over Moss's body and setting him alight. He screeched and flailed his arms as the fire went from a normal orange to an intense green. Skin dripped from Moss's face as he tried to roll the fire out, but the more he rolled, the darker the flames became, changing to blue, then purple, until they engulfed him in black. Moments later, charred, smoking bones were all that remained of Moss, the shape of his body blasted in dark soot against the floor.

  Jimmy rushed over to the bar, grabbed the pitcher of water, and tossed it on Moss's body. The bones hissed, but the flames went out. The smell was something awful, like sour barbecue. I covered my nose and slumped down into a chair near the pool table.

  Rodney rose up from behind the bar, a few bloody nicks from the falling glass, but otherwise unscathed. "Carl. The hell—"

  "He was going to kill Jimmy." I clutched the arm rests of the chair. "I had to do something."

  Jimmy pulled at his hair, looking down at Moss's bones. He bit his bottom lip hard. "I can't believe it. What you just did."

  "I had to—"

  "It was incredible, Carl. Absolutely incredible."

  "What?" My mouth hung open. I didn't know if it was from the shock of what happened or the shock of Jimmy actually praising me for something.

  "Those colors. From orange, to green. Blue, purple, black. It was amazing. Can you do that any time? How long have you been able to do that? I thought you could just do little parlor tricks, but you're a regular freak show, baby brother."

  "You're seriously not asking him that right now, are you?" Rodney stormed out from behind the bar. He winced as he picked a piece of glass from his cheek. "I want the two of you to clean this mess up and we're never going to talk of it again. I'm serious." A look that was a combination of bewilderment and anger flashed across his face. "I—I have to check on my family."

  I waved my hands at the grisly mess. "How are we supposed to clean—"

  Rodney threw on his hat and coat. "Don't care. Do it."

  The bartender flung the door open and entered into the swirling, blinding dust. I shut my eyes. I hoped it was all a horrible nightmare. I'd done parlor tricks with my flames before, but never hurt anyone with them. Yet there Moss' bones lay, not a stitch of flesh left. I’d burned it all away. My head in my hands, I rocked back and forth in the chair.

  "We ain't cleaning up nothing," Jimmy said, picking up the gun. "We're going to be rich, Carl. You understand? Damn this minotaur. With your abilities, hell, we could do just about anything. The folks in California would slobber over themselves to see a show with you in it. Who'd have thought my little brother really was something special."

  He patted me on the shoulder. I swatted it away like an annoying gnat. "I don't know what I just did, but it's not special. It's horrifying."

  "You kidding?" Jimmy almost danced in place. "You are our ticket. To think, my worthless kid brother had something in him all along. Guess you're like a piece
of coal. Squeeze you hard enough and a diamond might just come out."

  "I'm not going to California," I said. "I'm going to go to jail. Don't you understand?"

  "Bah," Jimmy said, waving it away. "What police would dare arrest you? You could turn them to ash."

  "I'm not going to—" I just quit talking. Jimmy wasn't listening anyway. He had that gleam in his eyes that no amount of cold water would shake.

  Jimmy continued to ramble on, waving the gun, pacing about the room, but my eyes locked on Moss' bones, wisps of smoke still coming off them. Never in my dreams did I imagine a simple trick I used now and again to light cigarettes or impress girls could be so destructive. It was as if the more desperate I became, the more intense the flames, the more they changed colors. At the height of my fear, the flames had turned black. That was when my mind seemed to shut down. The wind howled, shrill and piercing to my ears.

  "So what you think?" Jimmy finally asked.

  "Yes," I said, oblivious to what I was answering. "I mean, I don't know. What?"

  "Let's go," Jimmy said with more emphasis. "Get your coat."

  "What about the minotaur?"

  "Leave him," Jimmy said. "Don't need him anymore."

  "But what will happen—"

  "Don't know, don't care," Jimmy said. "Rodney'll finish him off with a shotgun, I reckon. Not for us to worry abuot."

  The minotaur snorted, jerking his head.

  "We can't leave him," I said.

  "Then, I'll shoot him and we'll be done with it now." Jimmy stalked toward the minotaur, raising up the gun.

  "No!"

  The minotaur's head quit jerking about and he looked up at Jimmy, eyes gleaming. "You don't want to do that."

  Jimmy recoiled back, hands shaking. "What? You talk?"

  "Yes, I talk," the minotaur said, voice strained and throaty. "Kill me and you'll never leave alive."

  My face went flush and a tingle went up my spine. Never in my life had I heard that minotaurs could talk. They were always portrayed as grunting, snorting beasts used for manual labor or for people to bet on for bloodsports.

  Jimmy lowered the gun. "What do you mean, I won't leave here alive?"