2 Minutes to Midnight (22 page)

Trinity
a black vortex opened several miles away. A fleet
of dark grey ships flew through, each one larger than Slim's
castle.
"Vorgon's! Time to go," said Slim.
"Those guys are a menace," said Gage. He shook his head
"Thank you for the obvious observation, Gage." Slim chuckled.
"Well, as much as I’d like to stay and play, we'd better scoot
before my home becomes a smoking hole in the ground."
"Got it." Gage replied.
Gage tapped a button on his console and the two were beyond the
planet's atmosphere in a flash.
"No alarms. That's a good sign. Maybe we evaded detection by their
sensors." Gage said.
Slim and Gage smiled until a disruptor round exploded beside
Trinity
. It was meant to
shut down the electronics on board, and a direct hit would have
done just that.
"I have to jump into hyper-space."
"They'll follow you." Slim replied.
"No choice. We're no match for their weapons, and I have to save
the princess before..."
He pressed a button and the
Trinity
vanished, popping back to Gage's galaxy where the
green wave of destruction had spread farther.
"This is Gage, does anyone read this?"
"We read you loud and clear. This is Lieutenant Rorschach, have you
found the amulet?"
"Yeah, where’s Captain Sturgis?"
"He’s right here bedside me, sir."
"There are two of us on board the
Trinity
. We've got vorgon's on our
trail, should be here any minute. I need you guys to use the
transporter and bring us down. I don't have much time. I'm going to
ghost the
Trinity
into that green cloud. When the vorgon fleet comes out of
hyper-space they'll be following the signal from my ship, and if
we’re lucky they’ll be vaporized."
"Standby for transport." Rorschach said.
"Let’s just hope all that stuff you just said happens in the right
order." Slim said. He smirked at Gage.
"That's what I'm counting on. Then the princess's advisors can use
the amulet to stop this." Gage said.
"Damn, you know how to party, brother!" Slim shouted.
Gage pointed
Trinity
toward the green wave, and as he did Rorschach located them
with the transporter device, just as their faces began to take on a
green hue, and their molecular structure begin to loosen. A second
later, Slim and Gage were on the planet's surface and
Trinity
was blown to
pieces. As the ship was disintegrated a vortex opened inside the
green wave and the vorgon fleet entered the deadly cloud. As the
vorgon fleet passed through the space-time gate all of their ships
and crew were vaporized.
"That’s what I call a party." Slim said.
"Gage, do you have the amulet?" said one of Princess Amon's
advisors.
"Sure, but what are you going to do with it?" Gage handed it
over.
"I need you to transport me into the ship with the princess, and
once she has the amulet in her hand this will be over." Said the
advisor.
"Isn’t that going to kill you?" Gage asked. The advisor gave him a
solemn, determined glance.
"Once I'm in the vicinity of the princess her aura will keep me
safe."
"Let's do this." Sturgis said.
They braced themselves while watching the screen and Princess
Amon's ship, which was still in one piece by the strength of her
soul. Her advisor had the amulet around his neck, and smiled warmly
at the three men as he disappeared inside the transporter. A moment
later flashes of white and purple light exploded from the hull of
Princess Amon's ship and the green wave dissipated. The rift closed
and her ship began to float, unpiloted, once more. The advisor
opened a communication channel with Gage, Sturgis, and
Rorshach.
"The princess is still alive." the advisor said.
A moment passed and Princess Amon stepped in front of the screen.
She looked like a child waking from nightmares. Tired. Scared. Gage
was in love. Her long black hair hung shoulder length, and she had
chestnut skin. Her eyes told him that he would walk away with a
nasty scar, but she was an adventure that might be worth the pain.
Gage had to know her.
"Thank you for saving me, guys. If it's OK, I'm setting a course
for Mars." Princess Amon said.
"I think that would be fine, princess. Here are the coordinates for
our base." Rorschach said.
"Good work, Gage. You know, I could use a guy like you on my crew."
Slim said.
"I have a crew, well, I will once I hire some more rag tags from
the local bar."
"If you guys are up to the challenge, there's a ton of rifts just
like this one we need to sniff out and close." Sturgis said.
Slim seemed to consider that for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah,
I could be persuaded. What’s it pay?"
"I’m not going back into service again. You can count me out for
that." Gage said.
"I’m not talking about that. I need a new elite crew, and since
most of my pilots have been killed by the vorgon's, and since you
just killed all of them with that slick move back there, I think
you two would be a good fit for this. I know all about you Slim.
You and Gage have a lot in common. The guild wars?
"Yeah, I fought in those, almost died nine times, and that was in
one day!" Slim said.
A ship landed outside and moments later the doors slid open and in
walked Princess Amon, and her last surviving advisor.
"Good day, boys!" She said with a smile. The princess wore a long
white toga, with a gold phoenix necklace around her neck. Gold and
diamond bracelets hung from her wrists like they belonged there.
Gage was in love; Slim noticed his longing gaze and
snickered.
"She’s got a trail of broken hearts from here to Vega,
brother."
The princess walked right past Slim over to Gage and threw her arms
around his neck giving him a full kiss on the mouth.
"Thank you for saving me."
"Hey, I helped!" Slim protested.
"You stole my amulet and almost got everyone killed, idiot." Her
eyes were daggers.
"That was my grandmother’s and you know it."
"And she gave it to me on her death bed. She must have known what a
scoundrel you are."
"Well, that’s true." Slim smirked.
"Princess," Sturgis bowed. "I would be honored if you would join
our team of Rift Pilots. It’s quite a job, but…"
"I heard the whole conversation on my way down. You never turned
off the com, Sturgis." She looked Gage and Slim up and down.
"Someone’s got to keep Slim in line, if that’s even possible. I’ll
do it." She said.
The princess closed her eyes, and a shimmering, translucent window
appeared before her. She took a step forward and was gone. Gage
made a move to catch her, but she vanished.
"Amon does this all the time, so you had better get used to it. Oh,
and by the way, in case you were wondering, I’ve got nothing for
her anymore. She ran me through the wringer enough times. If you’re
unlucky enough to catch her heart I feel sorry for you." Slim
smiled. He clapped Gage on the back.
Moments later, Princess Amon reappeared, dressed in tan leather
cowboy boots, cargo pants, and a khaki jungle shirt. Her hair was
tied back in a ponytail, and to Gage she was a vision of hard core
feminine strength. What Gage would soon learn was Princess Amon was
an outlaw from birth, an adrenaline junkie, and very dangerous when
angered.
"I think I’ve got the start of my Rift Corps." Sturgis said. He was
nodding his head as the four stood staring at one another.
Rorschach stood staring at his monitor.
"Sir, we’ve got another ship trapped in the rifts. It looks like
the Terellian ambassador to Jagon."
Amon brought the Amulet of Hoeth and placed it around her neck. It
was shaped like the eye of Horus, and glowed white as it touched
her skin.
"You boys ready? With a little luck on our side we may just survive
this foolishness." Amon said. She smiled at Gage, and frowned at
Slim, who shrugged grinning sheepishly.
Princess Amon and her Rift Pilots walked out to her ship, and left
Mars, bound for as yet untold adventures.

…
Stay tuned for the exciting
trilogy Princess Amon and the Rift Pilots.

the long dark road

"Can I see into the future? Will the
power let me do that?" Sean asked.
"All that, and more. But it comes at a cost." The old man
replied.

Sean Edgar picked himself off the
ground, dusted off his pants, and wiped fresh blood from a sore
mouth and nose. His father’s attack had come with unexpected
ferocity while he had been explaining why the bucket of paint
spilled in the garage. But, Bill Edgar, having been fired from the
ball bearing factory earlier that day would have none of it. His
day spiraled downhill after the firing when he wrecked his car on
the interstate while texting a friend to tell him the news, and
made things worse when he got into a fight with the other driver.
So, when he saw what his son had done Bill's irrational mind
overcame reason, and before he knew it his fist had connected with
Sean's mouth. The confused look of hurt that spread over his
teenage son’s face only fed Bill’s blind rage. He saw weakness, and
it sickened his stomach. For a moment his son was no longer in the
garage, and every person who ever angered Bill took Sean’s place.
He hit him again, and again, and when his arm grew tired he walked
past Sean into the house without another word. Sean wept in
silence, bleeding from his nose and mouth.
The spill had, of course, been an accident caused when Sean was
climbing a stack of boxes to get his remote control airplane from
the top of their utility shelf. The ladder of boxes leaned to the
right, Sean grasped the tail of the craft, and then the box he
stood on shifted, became unstable and he fell to the hard cement
floor. Upon impact his foot had jerked and kicked a bucket of blue
paint that had been only half closed last time his father used it,
and sent it over on its side. The plane came with him and was
destroyed in a fatal aeronautic crash. As the model plane he had
spent so many hours building lay on the floor next to him in
pieces, Sean's mind conjured images of Humpty Dumpty and the king’s
men trying to put him back together in a futile exercise. Several
boxes had followed him down, their contents overturned and
displaying an array of useless junk his mother refused to let go
of.
Sean's father had never hit him before, not like that anyway, and
up until then they had been very good friends. The betrayal he felt
from his hero beating on him was soul crushing, and he cried for
some time in the garage, alone and lost. His mother worked a late
shift at the drug store during the week, so it was rare that he saw
her until the weekend. It was just he and his father, and currently
Sean was terrified to go in the house. His head hurt from the
knocks it had taken on the hard cement floor, and as Sean picked up
the boxes he thought about revenge. Sean stacked them neatly, and
then mopped up the spilled paint. He was angry now, and caught a
glimpse of his blood-streaked face in the side view mirror of his
father’s late model station wagon. He imagined the blood was war
paint and left it there. Two ladies with strollers were walking by
with their dog and noticed Sean cleaning up the mess. His face was
smeared with dried blood, and beginning to swell, and as they
strolled by their glance was quick and uncomfortable.
"Hi!" He said. Each gave a friendly wave, put their heads down, and
continued walking. Sean stopped what he was doing and watched them
go. He wondered if they were happy people.
"Sean, dinner’s ready!" Bill yelled from inside.
Sean silently laid the mop against the wall and went in to eat.
Inside the kitchen he could see his father had been crying, and as
the pain in his face and head throbbed, it made Sean sick to his
stomach. How dare he? For an instant he felt hatred, Sean wanted to
grab a plate and smack his father in the face with it, but he took
his seat without a word.
"I'm sorry for hitting you. I had no right, no matter how bad a day
this was. Sean, can you forgive me, please?" Bill pleaded. Tears
lined his eyes, but Sean was thinking about crocodiles and their
tears.
"Sure, dad." Sean’s eyes were low and the two did not speak again
through the meal.
Sean slept poorly that night. His dreams were occupied by a tall
gray man with long spindly legs, and two arms that extended to the
mysterious man’s wrinkly knees. This spectral figure wore no
clothes and his skin sagged like that of an emaciated elephant.
Sean was frightened by the long, claw-like nails at the end of his
fingers. A halo of dark light surrounded his face obscuring the
man's features. Sean felt his urge to flee heighten as fear spread
over him like a sheet of ice as the stranger approached. His saggy,
drab body wavered like a mirage in the desert. Sean woke up the
next morning and forgot most of what he had seen in the dream, but
his thoughts were much darker than the previous day. Another month
went by and his dad's beatings were becoming less of a secret as he
went to school with bruises on his arms and legs. One night his mom
came home early from work just in time to see her baby boy hit the
floor and bang his head on the coffee table. The last thing Sean
remembered before passing out was his mom yelling at Bill and
telling him that this was the last time, and she was calling 911.
Sean woke up an hour later and by then his father was gone, leaving
only he and his mother in the living room.
"You ok?" She asked.
"I feel like I got hit by a truck, but I think so," he
answered.
"I told the bastard to get out. He's been hitting me for years, but
I had no idea he would do it to you, too," she sobbed.
Sean's aching head pounded and now he was furious. What had she
said?
"He's been hitting you? How come you didn't say anything? Oh my
God, is that why you've been working the late shift?" Sean
said.
"I'm so sorry, but I thought he would leave you alone if he knew
that he could, you know..." she couldn't finish the sentence, and
now her face was in her hands.
"How'd you get rid of him?"
Sean's mother produced a rather large revolver from the couch
cushion beside her.
"I bought this to use on myself if it ever got too bad, but when I
saw him hit you something snapped and...I almost shot him," she
said. Tears streamed down her red cheeks.
"Where is he now?" Sean asked.
"Who knows, I kicked him out and told him to come back when we're
not home to get his stuff."
The two had a long conversation about Sean's father and how badly
he had treated his mother during their marriage. Sean never had a
clue. Outside of some arguments over money he had never heard the
two of them fight, but now he was mad and sad. Sean now harbored
resentment that ate at him like a rabid animal. He was about to
walk off the path of light and onto the long dark road.
A few nights later as Sean was drifting off to sleep, he heard the
sound of a bush rustling outside his window. His mother was at
work, so he was alone. Sean got out of bed and looked out the
window to see someone in a black jacket messing with one of the
windows of his mother's bedroom. His mother had taken the gun in
her car and now he was terrified, because there were no other
weapons in the house. His mind scrambled, thinking of what to do
next. He ran to his closet and grabbed his aluminum baseball bat,
and then picked up the phone to dial 911.
"Please send an officer, there's someone trying to break into my
house, and my mom's at work."
The dispatcher told him to remain in his bedroom with the door
locked until help could arrive. Sean knew from what he had seen on
the news that a response to a 911 call might take up to twenty
minutes, and he was afraid he didn't have the time. He raced to the
kitchen and retrieved a serrated steak knife from the drawer. It
was more than big enough to do the job, but in his panicked mind it
looked like a toddler version of a knife in his hand.
Nervously, he walked down the hallway, listening to the prowler
outside trying to get in his mother’s bedroom window. He ran in and
hid in the corner beside the window as it slid open. Without
another thought he swung down on top of the intruder’s head as it
popped through, and then he used the knife to stab down so many
times he lost count. The prowler let out a grunt and then dropped
to the floor still, and silent. Sean backed up, keeping his eyes on
the target, and flipped on the bedroom light with a shaking hand.
The person lying on the floor was trying to turn over, so Sean
raised the bat over his head and realized that it was his father.
Sirens wailed in the distance as Bill turned over on his back,
looking compassionately at his son.
"You're mother changed the locks." He breathed. Bill died on the
bedroom floor.
Sean never forgave himself for what he had done, and although he
was cleared of charges for the incident, the torture of killing his
own father haunted him daily. Sean's mother continued to work the
late shift so he spent most of his time alone, with no friends to
speak of, and at night the grey man would appear more frequently.
The strange man would sometimes appear in the mirror while Sean
brushed his hair or in windows of stores as he passed by on the
street. Sean would have conversations in his dreams about time and
space: alternate dimensions of chaos where the laws of nature on
Sean's planet did not apply. The man eventually told him his name
was Azazel, and he was an angel of the Lord sometime in the distant
past, but that was as much as he would explain.
One night as Sean dreamed he met Azazel in a bar outside of what
appeared to be Paris. Azazel, garbed in a red robe, told him of
blood sacrifices. He explained a dark pact that some people from a
distant red planet had made with his master. These people were
given access to great technology and interdimensional powers in
exchange for the blood sacrifice of undesirables. Azazel also gave
Sean a special gift. When he awoke next he would be able to read
people's minds, understand high mathematics, and read symbols on
the walls of the great megaliths of Egypt. He would have this
ability for nine days, but if he wanted to continue to have these
powers after the time expired, then Sean would have to provide
Azazel with a sacrifice.
True to his word, the former angel had given Sean the power he
proposed, and the young man could understand the most complicated
subjects, as well as their relation to the cosmos. Reality was
beginning to take on a fuzzy haze, and to his mind it seemed that
Azazel was becoming more real and his waking world reality was like
those heat waves off the dessert. Sean was more mirage than
man.
Several nights later, as he dreamed, the two met again in a small
bar near his house.
"Ready to begin?" Azazel asked.
"I'll do it. I know where a crowd of bums hangs out in town, and
maybe I can lure one of them away with cheeseburgers," he said
thoughtfully. "With some sleeping pills ground up in a soda it
should be quick," answered Sean.
"You’ll have to get them into the woods. There's a cave where the
ritual must be performed. So, make sure they don't completely pass
out until you're close, or you'll have some heavy lifting to do."
The old angel explained.
In Sean's mind he saw the location of the cave and instantly knew
how to get there from the old man's telepathic projection. It was
about ten miles outside of town in a very secluded and ancient
forest. Kids jokingly referred to it as the haunted forest, because
sometimes strange lights could be seen shining deep within the
woods at night. It was a good place to avoid, and Sean was going to
be bringing some unlucky soul in there to meet his demise.
When Sean woke up he remembered the conversation and knew what he
had to do. There was a group of homeless in town that would sign on
for day labor projects, or anything that would pay them enough for
their next bag of fries, or bottle of booze. He took a bottle of
his mother's Xanax from the medicine cabinet and crushed them all
into a fine powder. Then he mixed it in with some peanut butter and
jelly. That sandwich was strong enough to knock out a horse, and
all he had to do was remember not to eat the peanut butter, or this
would be one of the biggest failures in the history of murder
plots. He made himself a turkey sandwich, went to the garage for a
bundle of rope, and got in the car. He took one last long deep
breath before he started the engine. There was still time to turn
back, but why bother?
He drove to the bridge, where he knew they would be, and stopped
beside a crowd of men dressed in rags standing around an oil drum
filled with burning refuse.
"Any of you guys know how to paint a house? I'll pay you
seventy-five dollars for a day's work. I just need some help with
one room." Sean shouted.
They all looked suspiciously at him and for a moment Sean
considered that these men might try to harm him, especially if they
thought he had money. The revolver was just under his seat and he
had loaded hollow points, in the case of trouble. Unknown to him,
the strange looks on their faces were not out of suspicion of him,
but a silent competition to see who would bite at the gig.
"I'll do it!" Said one of them.
He was a tall man who wore painter’s pants and a ripped t-shirt
with a surfboard on it, and a beard so long and scruffy that Sean
was sure it crawled with bugs. Sean thought he would be a good
person to kill, nobody would miss that asshole. Sean was
immediately repulsed by this man, but held back his revulsion while
he opened the passenger door. He smiled as the ragged man got in.
The other men looked disappointed and turned back to their
conversation.
"Good day sir, welcome aboard!" Sean smiled.
The man shambled over and got in. The smell from his body odor and
clothing was overpowering causing Sean's gag reflex to kick in, but
he stifled it.
"Mister, thanks a lot, you're a life saver." Sean said.
"You mentioned Seventy-five dollars?" The man held out his
hand.
"After we get the job done. I'm not far from here, you hungry? I've
got an extra sandwich and I was just about to eat lunch."
"Sure, I'm starving man. You don't get many free meals on the side
of town I live on. What do you got?" The man replied.
"What's your name?" Sean said, handing him the peanut butter.
"Donald, and thanks for the food."
"You can't work on an empty stomach, Donald" Sean smiled.