2 Minutes to Midnight (8 page)

sooo
many
visitors, Timmy. This is good because father likes to entertain."
Elsa said.
Tim turned and she was behind him at the end of the upstairs
hallway.
"Just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about this place." Tim
said.
"Oh, we know you won't. You simply must stay awhile, though Timmy.
Forever is such a small amount of time." Elsa chimed.
Elsa vanished behind another door, but Tim was on an overlook, and
spotted the front door of the house at the base of the stairs. He
walked to the staircase, and looked down. No one was there. He
carefully began to creep down, still gripping the knife with white
knuckles. Just as the lights went out again, he tripped on a raised
nail. He was sent sprawling to the floor below. Tim's vision was
filled with stars, and in the fall he had knocked out a tooth. A
blossom of pain exploded in his right jaw as exposed nerve endings
met with air. Tim raced for the door and was repelled backward as
something smashed him in the face. The blow was not hard enough to
knock him out but in his daze he became confused and ran for the
door again, not realizing that he was headed for the basement. Tim
threw the door open and ran down the stairs, only realizing his
mistake when he saw the twin operating tables under flickering
fluorescent lights.
Tim held the knife in his hand with a death grip as sweat poured
down his face, mixing with caked blood.
"Ever since you Americans shut down my father’s laboratory in
Berlin he has not been the same. We were so close to understanding
the human brain. But now we have to work in secret!" Elsa
screamed.
She was standing at the door frowning down at Tim as she closed and
locked it. Tim was trapped in the basement, alone, frightened, and
angry. Where was her father?
"Hello? Is anyone down here?" Tim shouted.
He held the knife before him like a cross; waiting for his Dracula
would pop out of the shadows. Not a sound was heard as Tim snuck
across the dirty floor, searching for another way out, and hoping
he would not run into the man wearing the human facemask again.
Along one wall sat a freezer, and when he opened it there were
human arms and legs carefully wrapped in plastic, perfectly
preserved.
"Guess I should have seen that one coming."
Aside from the freezer, the basement was clean and looked like any
normal hospital operating room. Tim noticed a gigantic Nazi flag
pinned to the wall.
"Nazi’s. Perfect. I'm trapped by a mad scientist with sour grapes."
Tim said.
Tim turned a corner and entered another room in the basement with
meat hooks hanging from the ceiling in rows. A number of corpses
hung by hooks in their backs. They were stinking, rotting, and
staring with dead eyes at Tim as he backed right into Elsa’s
father. Tim felt warm fluid trickle down his pants as he wet
himself. The man removed his mask, revealing a very handsome, if
not disheveled young man in his early thirties. The man was staring
at Tim with a mixture of pity and compassion.
"You’ve gone and vet yourselve!" He said.
"What do you want with me?" Tim said.
"It’s my daughter Elsa… she’s crazy, friend. She made me wear this
mask. It was her mother’s, you know."
"Her mother’s mask?" Tim asked.
Tim was certain he did not want to answer to that question, but it
had been a particularly strange night.
"No, her face. My name is Dieter, and although I would like to let
you go we really must get you on the operating table. Look at it
this way, you're helping to further the cause of an Aryan race, and
it will be over so fast." Dieter said.
Tim’s limbic instinct kicked in and he plunged his knife into
Dieter’s chest. The man looked at him with wide eyes and began
laughing hysterically before slumping to the floor dead.
"Father! Are you alright?" Elsa said from above.
Tim heard the door open and he charged toward Elsa, running up the
steps and knocking her over. Tim ran for the door screaming bloody
murder as Elsa stood and followed him.
"Wait, Timmy, don’t leave! You have to stay with us…forever!" Elsa
screamed.
Tim ran out into the pouring rain and slipped on the last step. His
knife flew through the air stabbing the mud as it landed, and he
was knocked unconscious again. When he next woke, Tim was lying in
the back seat of his car covered in mud, and blood, and he did not
know how he got there. Aching tendrils of pain climbed up his back
from the fall he took on that last stair, but the sun was up, and
all the rain clouds had disappeared. It was a brand new day, and
somehow he had survived the night. He got out of the car with the
fragility of a senior citizen stepping from a sidewalk, and felt
for his wallet, and car keys. They were both missing, and where was
his briefcase with the soap samples?
The farmhouse glared at Tim like a stalker, but he had no choice
but find his belongings. Flies buzzed noisily around his face as
Tim walked back toward the house, a place that would be a source of
nightmares for years to come. Locust cries broke the silence as his
temperature rose with the morning heat. The mud that was caked on
his face began to weigh heavily, and he brushed it off. Tim’s shoes
sucked in and out of mud along the rutted dirt road. His eyes were
trained on the house, consumed by a supernatural pull. Had he
imagined the entire event, or was Elsa in there watching, waiting
for him to return? Would she finish the job and steal his brain? He
began to scan the ground for his keys and wallet, but he had no
luck. When Tim reached the house he realized the front door was
lying broken on the ground, all of the windows smashed in long ago
during some great fire, and tall weeds had grown through broken
floorboards on the porch. It looked nothing like the night
before.
Warped and burned steps and floorboards creaked under his weight as
Tim’s fear mixed with confusion once more. No one had been home for
a very long time, and Elsa was certainly not there. Tim walked with
extreme care to avoid falling through the decaying floor. He had
seen enough of the basement last night and falling into it breaking
a leg with no one to help him would not be ideal. His briefcase sat
in the hall with a sheet of paper attached to it, and on top were
his keys and wallet. Tim picked up the paper with trembling hands,
and it read:

I had a great time last
night! Stop back
anytime after dark, lover.
Yours forever,
Elsa

Tim put his keys and wallet back in
his pocket, picked up his briefcase, and walked off down the muddy,
rutted dirt road. His car started with one turn of the key, and
before he set her back on the road Tim could swear he saw a young
blond woman standing on the porch, waving goodbye. Tim shot a
tentative wave back, counted his lucky stars, and never drove Route
49 again.

the petrified man

Two men
constructing a tunnel find an amazing artifact that changes their
lives forever.

In the fall of 2111, the
great state of West Virginia decided that a new road was necessary
to connect the towns of Meadow Creek and Lockbridge. Although a
smaller road was previously established long ago to allow travel
between the two towns, this highway would save everyone ten minutes
of drive time. The main obstacle preventing completion of said
project was the presence of Hump Mountain, a monstrous obstacle
standing in the way of manifest destiny. Although the project had
been rejected by both towns in a majority vote, powerful people
with money wanted this road built, and so it was happening, like
it, or not. Adding insult to injury, those in favor of this project
would tunnel through the mountain at the expense of West Virginia's
tax payers.
Jim Dolan, of Duncan Tunnel Works, had been setting up the site for
the tunnel project with his partner Dean Stockman. The tunnel-bot,
Gordon, should be arriving any minute, and as he bore a tunnel
through the mountain, Jim and Dean would clean up the dirt and
debris.
"It's a damned shame that the 'bot's gonna’ be here to drill the
hole and we have to pick up after him," said Dean.
"Bots move faster, dude. At least we don't have to place charges as
much anymore. That's dangerous work." Jim replied, and Dean nodded
in admittance.
From half a mile away they could hear the stomping, clanging, and
banging sound of the bot Gordon approaching for duty. As he came
into view the six ton robot's single red eye roved left and right
like a sentinel beacon. He stood ten feet tall, and was constructed
with a round body, ending in a shiny, chrome, cone dome for a head.
Gordon's knees and feet had been fitted with tank track on his
sides. This mobility enhancement allowed the giant robot to roll
along with ease as he used the cutters on his arms to tear through
rocks and dirt. His torso was also fitted with a laser drill for
tough spots. Gordon was perfect for drilling the pilot tunnel, and
a much larger bot would be along to cut the main route, if the
tunnel did not cave in.
"Hi guys!" Gordon waved.
"Gordon, we could hear coming you from a mile away, buddy. You're
not quiet, are you?" Jim said.
"Yeah. Why don't you use the tank tracks on your legs to roll
instead of stomping around like an ape?" Dean said.
"Last time I did that on the asphalt I got yelled at for tearing up
the road by Foreman Spangler. Besides boys, I like to make an
entrance." Gordon said. The two men gave a chuckle, shaking their
heads.
"You're a funny guy, Gordon. Well, the site's right over there if
you want to get started." Jim said. Gordon saluted the men and
stomped over to the mountainside.
"I regret any malfunctions that may occur during my service today,
gents. I'm not feeling quite right, and when I explained this to
Spangler he told me to, and I quote
'get
my ass to work.'
"
"That sounds like him." Dean said.
The two shot each other a concerned glance. The large sentient
machine that was preparing to slice and dice the mountain had a lot
of heavy moving parts, and if the bot felt he may malfunction, that
could mean a world of hurt for the squishy humans helping
him.
"OK. Roger that. We'll just stand over here and out of your way."
Jim said.
Gordon dropped down onto his tank tracks and rolled along the dirt
to begin his task. A cloud of dust rose high into the afternoon air
as Gordon tunneled, but at about forty feet into the tunnel, the
men heard a loud clang. Something whistled through the air,
originating from the tunnel entrance. Dean tackled Jim to the
ground just before a large robotic arm shot past the space his head
had been in a moment earlier.
"Damn it, Gordon! You almost took my head off!" Jim screamed.
"Ugh, sorry man! I was afraid something like that was going to
happen." Gordon backed out of the hole, hydraulic fluid spewing
from his left arm socket.
"You're in bad shape. Can you make it back to the shop?" Dean
asked.
"Yeah, but until they fix me it looks like you're going to have to
use charges to blow the pilot tunnel. I'll be back in a little
while." Gordon picked his severed arm up off the ground wielding it
like a bat.
"Be safe, man!" Jim called after him.
"When I get back to the shop, if I see Spangler, I'm shooting
hydraulic fluid on his shirt. I blame him for this one. He didn't
even allow one diagnostic test!" Gordon said. He rolled up to the
highway mumbling to himself, stopped a moment, and then rolled over
the hot asphalt leaving large tank track divots in the highway as
he left.
"I've always liked Gordon." Jim smiled.
"He's got a personality, that's for sure. You ready to get to
work?" Dean sighed.
Jim nodded and got his pick and shovel out of the pickup
truck.
"Hey Dean, check this out." Jim said. He was walking into the
tunnel opening.
Dean joined his partner and saw what Jim was referring to. It
seemed to be the outline of a human arm, made of stone.

"What do you think it is?
A weird rock formation?" Dean asked.
"I dunno. Start digging it out and I'll hold the light. We have to
work quickly though. If Spangler decides to come up here he'll shut
us down and take credit for whatever
this
is. This is OUR find." Jim
said.
"Why do I have to dig it out?" Dean asked. He had a confused look
.
"I'm two months your senior."
"Dude, the fact that you've been here two months longer than me
does not make you my senior, just so we're clear."
"Can you hurry up, please? I'd like to see what this is before we
get caught." Jim said .
Dean shook his head in disgust and decided it was not worth the
argument. Slowly, he began to unearth the odd discovery.

To their sheer amazement what they had
uncovered in the rock did appear to be a petrified man. The man
must have died in the fetal position and looked as if he may have
stood about five feet tall, but it was hard to tell with so much
compression over time. Jim finished uncovering the solid body and
they laid it out on the tunnel floor. Minerals from the earth had
bronzed the man over time, but otherwise his features had remained
as they were when he was alive.
"This dude couldn't have been more than forty years old when he bit
the big one." Jim said.

"Hey Jim, look in his hand." said
Dean.

The little man was clutching an object
in his left hand that was obscured by dirt.

"What is that thing? I’m going to
loosen it up."

Jim knelt down and scraped some of the
dirt off of the mysterious object revealing a sharp crystal point.
It was frozen in the dead man’s hand as if the two had been fused
together over a period of time.

"I’m going to have to break his hand
to get it," said Jim.

"You sure you ought to do that? I mean
this is some kind of historical artifact or something, right?
There’s going to be people wanting to study this guy." Dean
replied.