2 Minutes to Midnight (10 page)

"I can't get the darned smudges off my face; darling will you come
help me?" She asked.
Ron froze in place, too terrified to speak, or move. His mind was
blank.
"Darling, can you please help me get the smudges off my face? You
are being so silly, standing there with your mouth open like that."
she said.
When the woman turned to Ron, still sobbing, he saw that the right
half of her face was missing, the skin cut away to reveal torn
muscles, and bone. The other half was snow white from pancake
makeup, and streaked with bloody tears. She had a butcher knife
lodged in her chest, and a gash running from her neck to somewhere
below the dress she wore.
"Nathaniel, come over here and help me, please?" She asked.
Ron backed up so fast that he almost fell down.
"You don't LOVE ME ANYMORE!" She screamed.
Then, the house was silent again. The lights stopped flickering,
and his bedroom returned to the state it was in before the woman at
her vanity spoke to him. No more vanity or Victorian era furniture
existed and Ron's new bed had been returned. There were only two
entities in the house: Ron, and his fear.
Ron walked downstairs on legs made of rubber to get a glass of
water from the kitchen. He was greeted by two large maroon words
scrolled haphazardly on the wall:
HELP
US
.
The letters dripped slowly toward the
floor. Ron's terror gathered like a storm through his panicked
mind. A gas can was sitting in the center of the hall, and beside
it lay a box of wooden matches. Ron could smell the distinctive
odor of petroleum wafting throughout the room.
"Nathaniel? Is that you? Are you home early?" The sobbing woman's
voice asked.
Ron followed the unseen voice into the kitchen. Each room he passed
appeared to be a dark portal to other dimensions full of
nightmares. A million invisible, cold eyes watched him approach as
his skin crawled. Legions of bugs marched just beneath the surface
of his flesh, sentinels from the grave, and harbingers of his fate.
He steeled himself for what may lie ahead in the darkened kitchen.
Suddenly something thumped against the stairwell. Ron turned around
slowly to see the mottled work boot of Owen Freemantle as he swayed
from his neck on the chandelier. The dead man raised his head
grinning with wicked delight as Ron looked on in horror. A
centipede crawled from Owen's mouth, disappearing into a nest of
disheveled hair atop his head.
On the floor lay the bodies of Nathaniel Stanton's children and
their neighbor Tracey Atwell. Blood pooled around their heads in a
gory display, and as Ron turned to run he met the barrel of
Nathaniel Stanton's pistol. It was sticking firmly in his
ribcage.
"My babies, you killed my babies, and my beautiful Carina.
Freemantle, you're going to pay for your crimes!" Stanton
screamed.
There was a hole in the side of Stanton's head and bits of skull
and brain stuck to his shirt with dried blood. Ron felt the gun in
his ribs and he could smell the grave on Stanton, an odor of sickly
sweet rot, like dead chicken left out in the sun on a hot summer
day. Ron was repulsed and terrified as the gun went off. Stanton
fixed him with a cold vengeful stare as Ron dropped to his knees in
the hall. Between Stanton's legs Ron could see the gas can and
matches. The pain in Ron's ribs was electric, and when he looked
down, his hands and shirt were crimson red. Ron slowly crawled past
Stanton who only looked upon him like a man who has beaten a bad
dog, the pistol hanging at his side.
Ron turned the gas can over and allowed the petroleum to spill
forth like a fountain, gushing all over the floor, then he rolled
it toward the kitchen. The matchbox contained a dozen wooden
matches, the kind used to relight pilots on a stove. Ron took one
in his hand as Carina crawled toward him from the kitchen.
"It hurts so much! The pain, can you make it stop?" She
asked.
"You're going to die here, anyway. You may as well do something
good for once Freemantle!" Nathaniel barked.
"Daddy, is the man going to help us?" One of the boys said. A black
hole gaped at Ron from where the bullet entered the child's
head.
"I'll try." Ron said. He felt his strength begin to wane, as the
blood poured out of him and onto the floor.
He struck a match and instantly his entire body was on fire as it
spread along the gas trail Ron left had left. The fire gave him a
sudden sense of clarity, and he quickly realized that there was no
one else in the house as he burned alive. Stanton, his wife, the
children, their neighbor, and Freemantle were gone as Ron exploded
in a ball of living flames. The shot had not been real, only his
imagination turned against him. Ron rose from the floor screaming,
and ran through as many rooms as he could before he was consumed
and could run no further. He rolled downstairs to the basement and
collapsed next to the newly installed gas furnace. Before he died
Ron saw the entire Stanton family standing above him with peaceful
smiles tattooed on their faces, and then they vanished. Ron's soul
left the Earth that day, but before it did he realized he had set
Stanton's free from a cycle of torment over half a century
old.
Adie's car pulled up just as the entire house exploded like a
gigantic bomb, sending fiery shrapnel in every direction. She and
the children were devastated, but safe. The mystery of why her
husband and their father had died was never revealed to Adelaide
James's satisfaction. Investigators ruled it accidental arson, but
Adie always felt there might have been something more going on that
would always remain unsolved. Since her husband bought the property
outright, Adelaide owned it had the wreck bull dozed, and then she
planted a garden where the house once sat. Every once in a while,
if you sit in that garden, just before dark, you can hear children
at play, laughing.

2 minutes to midnight

The fate of Earth rests on
the verdict of one man as he stands trial for
humanity.

Max woke with a start when
he realized that he was no longer in his bedroom, but a steel
walled room with bars that prevented any exit. He lay on a soft bed
bolted to the wall with no pillow or blanket for comfort. As he sat
up, his mind began signaling alarms of confusion and fear while
little beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
"I’m in a jail cell." He whispered.
Max couldn’t remember having committed any crimes, and he had no
recollection of any police or detectives showing up at his front
door either. Standing from his bed he walked over and poked his
head between the bars as far as he could. There were other cells
containing inmates lining both sides of the hallway for as far as
he could see from his limited vantage point. The lights were dim,
making it difficult for him to see much more than shadows in the
hallway outside. He tried to shake the bars, but they were solid,
unmovable. In an attempt to see further, Max jammed his head so far
in between the bars that he thought it may get stuck, but he was no
closer to understanding why he was there. A man across the hall
from him, with tentacles for arms, stepped up to his bars, causing
Max to take a frightened step back.
"Fresh meat! Look everyone! Fresh meat!" Yelled the man,
laughing.
"Why am I here?"
"You’ll find out, soon enough, Fresh Meat. You'll meet the Judge."
The hybrid man growled.
His tentacles were playing with the bars, wrapping around them in
spirals, undulating in their rhythm. When Max did see his face,
through the bars and darkness of his cell, it looked like a
lobster’s head. The prisoner across from Max had a miniscule head,
large antennae, and a little red moustache. Max's eyes adjusted to
the low light, and when he looked down the cell row he could see
many more alien faces peering back at him. Hours passed as Max sat
on the uncomfortable cot provided to him, contemplating his
predicament in silence. The desperate longing for his wife and son
plagued him as the hours passed, and he wondered if they were
looking for him or if they knew he was missing. A single tear
rolled down his cheek as he thought about freedom, his family, and
life outside a barred room, he pounded his bed with a frustrated
fist.
Somewhere down the corridor a door slid open and he could hear
footsteps echoing. Two tall figures clad in black jumpsuits,
wearing faceless helmets stopped at his cell door. Their uniforms
had no nametags, and for a moment they stood watching him in
silence. The taller of the two waved a small rod at Max's cell door
and it slid open.
"Prisoner 595437, come with us." Commanded the shorter guard.
Max was frightened, but he complied without a word as they marched
him past cells occupied by some of the strangest looking creatures
he had ever seen. One corridor turned into another as they led him
further into the unknown, and his dread heightened. Max's mind
raced as he looked for some way to escape.
"There is no escape earth man. You will face the Judge, now." The
tall guard said.
"You guys can read my mind?"
"We see all."
Ahead he saw two large mahogany doors, and beyond there was a
commotion as loud voices barked and murmured. The doors opened and
Max was escorted inside a courtroom where pews lined both sides of
the isle. Max walked down a long runway, at the end of which sat a
raised bench where a rotund, human looking man with a slight
reptilian shape to his nose, and a black, braided wig sat frowning
at a piece of paper in his hands. The courtroom was filled with
hundreds of spectators of alien origins. A few of the rabble
resembled humans from earth, and were looking in Max's direction
with blank expressions. When Max looked over at them they turned to
face the front of the courtroom.
"Prisoner, sit at the table." The tall guard said.
Max was at the front of the room where a wooden gate delineated the
court, and Judge, and to the right of it he was seated at a large
oak table. A nervous looking purple man with two antennae poking
through his long brown hair was rustling papers upon the
table.
"Sorry, this is my first case. You ready? I mean, uh, do you
understand the charges against you?" The man was hyperventilating,
and sweating a yellowish liquid.
Max was unsure how to respond, and guessed that this was his public
defender. Jesus Christ, he thought. Where am I? Any minute now he
was sure that the alarm by his head was going to go off and he
would wake up in bed.
"What the hell is going on? I have no idea why I’m here. I mean, is
this a joke or something?" Max whispered.
"I’m afraid not. You’ve been brought here to answer for the colony.
My name is Randall, by the way, pleased to meet you. Look, just
answer the questions to the best of your ability and this should go
really well." Said Randall, wiping sweat from his forehead.
To Max he resembled a purple caricature of the The Great Gazoo from
the Flintstone’s cartoon, and it was hard to take him seriously. He
fixed Max with a serious expression.
"You really don’t know why you’re here do you?" Randall
asked.
The Judge’s gavel banged down, sending a loud thunderclap crack
through the courtroom.
"Let’s begin. Is the prosecution ready?" The Judge growled.
The man who stood up looked like Jiminy Cricket in a three-piece
suit, but without the bright cheery disposition. He glowered over
at Max with an expressionless insectoid gaze, and then back to the
Judge.
"Your Honor, the people are ready to proceed. Jiminy said in a
vaguely British accent.
"Defendant, rise and hear the charges against you." The Judge said.
He glared at Max for a moment, and looked back at Jiminy.
"Proceed."
"Prisoner 595437 has been charged with negligence, destruction of
private property, murder, and endangering others in the galactic
neighborhood." Jiminy stated. His tone was cold.
Max heard the words but they seemed distant and disconnected. He
had never hurt anyone, and his family had always recycled their
plastics.
"How do you answer the charges?" The Judge asked.
Randall rose and nervously replied.
"He pleads not guilty, your honor!" Then sat down so fast his chair
moved.
"Defendant, please take your seat. Let the trial begin," said the
Judge.
"What's happening, you have to tell me, right now!" Max was
angry.
"You're here to defend your entire colony. You see, we're an
intergalactic court and we travel the various galaxies, in and out
of this dimension on a thirty-six hundred year cycle. Your colony
is up for judgment, and if you lose the case everyone you know will
be erased." Said Randall.
"You guys are going to kill my family if I don't win this case?
This is some kind of mistake...or a dream."
"No mistakes are ever made by the Galactic Court, and this is not a
dream. It's not just your family, either. It'll be every human on
earth."
"That's genocide!" Max said.
"No, genocide is what you people have been practicing for more than
ten thousand years. This will be what you earth men call an
extinction level event, I believe."
"Oh my God! You're monsters." Max whispered. He slumped in his
seat.
"We've been here before, the Galactic Court, I mean. It's always
the same story with your species. Like I said, this is my first
case, but I read your history and it's unpleasant. Your kind has
always done wonderful things technologically, and you're brilliant,
but you don't take care of each other very well. Since the last
judgment day you've also become a threat once more to the
intergalactic community with your violence. I'm hoping the good
you've done will outweigh the bad, because you seem like a good
guy, and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you." Randall
said.
"Sounds like you've made
your
mind up against us." Max said.
"Doesn't matter what I think, but I'll defend you to the best of my
ability."
Max took a moment to understand the gravity of his situation, and
began to sweat.
"The people of the colony in question have been savagely tearing
one another apart for thousands of years. All of this corruption,
coupled with general disregard for their planet and each other has
ultimately been in the name of greed!" Jiminy screamed.
The courtroom filled with the sounds of a restless crowd at this
accusation.
"In one instance, a nuclear warhead was launched at their moon in a
show of weapon superiority, which would have disrupted an ongoing
helium three mining operation, not to mention the potential death
toll. Luckily, it was shot down by Gray's before the damnable
weapon could cause any damage!"
"Sir, your honor, I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t do
any of this…" Max stood.
"Silence, you’ll have your turn, prisoner!" The judge yelled.
"What about the wars over natural resources? Instead of working
together to form a better colony they fight over petty things.
Their governments and corporations deliberately hide technology
that can reverse destruction of the planet in an effort to squeeze
a few more dollars from the poor!" He turned to face a restless
court.
Max felt sick from hearing these accusations as the prosecution
raised his arms to silence the court. The prosecutor walked over to
where Max and Randall were sitting and glared down at the two of
them.
"Haven’t we been here before? The great cities of Atlantis, with
all of their might, and technology came to the same ruin! Exiled
from their home planet, forced to rebuild what was lost when they
destroyed Mars with their foolishness, but THEY ultimately fell
because of their greed. Isn’t that what we are still judging them
for?" He pointed at Max. "This man is an ancestor of the Martians.
Are they not using their technology to once again destroy their
planet?"
Whoops and hollers rose like the sound of impending doom, and Max
felt his stomach lurch. Jiminy began to pace back and forth,
gaining momentum, as Max looked to see that Randall was staring
down at the table, his fingers tightly interlaced, impotent. He
began to get the feeling that this was a kangaroo court and his
chances of getting a fair shot at survival were slim, or
none.
"Not only are they killing themselves, but the colonists have once
again gained the ability to travel outside the confines of their
own planet and galaxy, with nuclear weapons! We all know how
violent the earth people are, so the real question is do we stop
them now or wait until they use their particular brand of
friendship and attempt the hostile takeover of a peaceful
planet?"
Jiminy waved his hand at a large white screen that projected images
of mushroom clouds, war, pestilence, famine, and vast fields of
derelict oilrigs that sat rusting in dark pools. Millions of
homeless people starved in the streets as the affluent walked by,
unaffected. Most of these images were devastating to Max, because
he never knew, and he was ashamed of the ones he did know about. He
felt saddened to see what was happening to his home. The worst of
it was that part of him had begun to side with the prosecution. The
evidence looked bad. However, he knew enough about courtroom drama
from television shows he had seen to know that there was always
some kind of plea deal offered to the defendant. Jiminy sat down
again once the film was over. The prosecutor's stoic gaze prevented
Max from seeing whether Jiminy was pleased with his
performance.
"The defense will now speak for the colony." Mumbled the
Judge.
Randall began to rise, but Max frightened as he was, stood instead
and gently gestured to his defender to be seated. Then he walked
forward, opening the waist high gate, nodded to the Judge, and then
turned to address the courtroom. He had no idea how to answer the
charges before him, so he did the only thing he could and threw
himself on the mercy of his captors. The courtroom had to be
quieted once more by the Judge’s gavel so that Max could
speak.
"The prosecution may have a valid argument, but I know that the
people of my planet, uh, colony, are at their core, good and
decent. There have always been tyrannical rulers where I come from,
and that’s been our struggle as well. How would you suggest we stop
them when we’re under their thumb and in the dark? You want to
annihilate us for their mischief, but you’ll be no better than
them. I’m not asking for forgiveness for what they’ve done, or even
for anything I have done personally, but if you have the power to
destroy us then certainly you have the ability to help." There were
nods of agreement from some, but most of the room sat stoically
silent.
"We’re on the verge of a consciousness shift, from what I've heard
on TV, and maybe the first one we’ve had in thirty thousand years.
I think there are more people than you know who are prepared for
the coming change, and although we may look like impetuous children
to your eyes, a hundred years ago we were pulling carts with
horses. Our technology has grown faster than our understanding of
how to use it wisely, and we deserve a chance to join all of you in
your greater community. Most of my people have no idea any of you
exist! Those images may have been hard for you to watch, but
they’re even more difficult for me because those are my neighbors,
and earth is my home." Max finished.
Randall smiled faintly as he took his seat.
"That was, OK," he nudged Max.
The Judge sat upon his bench for a few tense moments as a wall
opened and everyone could see Earth spinning divinely on her axis.
The entire courtroom had transformed into an observation platform
with a magnificent view. Max began to cry softly as he gazed upon
the beauty floating below. White clouds drifted like cotton over
continents of brown and green, and magnificent oceans sparkled like
a blue blanket covered with diamonds. Max let the waterworks flow
in an unabashed display of emotion, as the Judge rubbed his chin
thoughtfully.
"Bailiff, bring me the clock, please." Said the Judge.
A lizard man in a black jumpsuit left the court and returned
moments later holding a large golden clock in his hands. He sat it
on the Judge’s bench and backed away. It was beautiful and ornate,
looking like something from Max’s grandmother’s house or a restored
Victorian mansion. The small hand was on twelve, and the big hand
was one minute from it. The Judge looked directly at Max for the
first time since he had walked into the court and breathed a deep
sigh.
"This clock represents your doom, Max, and if it ever strikes
midnight your colony on earth will be exterminated. I’m not without
compassion, but I’ve made a decision. Most of what you said made
sense, and if humanity can reverse much of the damage done, and
progress toward a more civilized society then you will continue to
evolve. At this moment every television in your world is displaying
these proceedings, and while we can’t intervene to help you fix
your bigger problems, we will grant you a stay. The people of earth
have ten years until we return, and pass our final judgment. Your
testimony has given me hope, and in case you all begin to feel as
if this was a hallucination, or trick of your news media, I would
like to show you the last planet over which we were forced to pass
judgment.”
The large view screen flashed from earth to a planet relative in
size, but this one was covered with ice. Satellites with lasers
attached orbited aimlessly around the lonely frozen planet,
crashing into one another like space debris. The camera moved
forward to the planet’s surface displaying massive cities covered
in hundreds of feet of snow and ice. A pleasant female voice began
to explain what they were seeing over a PA system.
"Colony 567-IFGJ4 was judged, and after having been deemed
unsuitable for interdimensional community membership they were
rebooted. The reboot involved a complete blackout of their sun, and
constant snow for ninety-nine years. Currently the colony is in a
state of regrowth, and is coping with survival after nearly
becoming extinct. Survivors were driven underground for a period
such that they are unable to remember how to use the technology
that led to their conviction, or why it is there in the first
place. Those who retreated to the tunnels have begun a slow ascent
back to the surface as their eyes adjust to sunlight." Survivors
could be seen dressed in rags and animal skins, carrying
spears.
"Colony 567-IFGJ4 will undergo monitoring and in approximately
twelve thousand years will be judged once more for interdimensional
community membership."
After this short narrative the room was graveyard silent. Their
mood had changed from raucous to somber. The big hand on the
Judge’s clock moved back one minute, and Max let out a sigh of
relief. The people of Earth had come so close to eradication that
Max could not comprehend the enormity of it.
For the next ten years the people of earth put their petty
differences aside, and worked together to fix their greater issues.
In the face of overwhelming technology there was nothing their guns
and bombs could do to stop the judgment. The Judge’s promise was
ever present in every mind, and each colonist knew what the price
was for failure. For another decade earth was two minutes from
midnight.