Damn, he was fast! If it even was a “he”. I was so busy grabbing a piece of ground I really didn’t get a good look. I almost missed seeing him disappear into the warehouse at the end of the avenue.

“Report!’ The Captain sounded pretty upset. Knowing how much he hates surprises; I imagine this really nuked his nuts. Good thing for us, the Captain isn’t surprised often.

It took a few seconds for the Lieutenant to check with the other Cohorts. “No injuries, Captain. It was one soldier. Humanoid. Cyber-enhanced.”

Figures the Lieutenant would be the only one on the bounce enough to spec out the marauder. Wouldn’t surprise me if he were the only one to get a shot off when that half-man-half-can came blasting up our backside. Luckily, the Lieutenant runs it by the book and had us advancing under cover since landing.

“Alright, First Lieutenant. He left us an open invitation. Let’s go to the party. Have the other three Cohorts converge on the warehouse. Watch for friendlies. Let’s not shoot our own men.”

All four Cohorts? Not counting the Captain and the Lieutenant, we’d be tossing 48 mercs at that man-can. Seemed a bit much, though I’m not about to argue with having a bit of help.

Approaching the warehouse was uneventful. “Four-Eyes, see what you can do about that lock on the cargo entrance.” It was just our luck the Captain decided to roll with our Cohort this time. We’d be getting fun little jobs like this all day. “Fan out and cover him.”

I glanced up as Four-Eyes trotted by and snickered at his bug-eyed appearance. He’d donned the macro lenses that got him tagged with his nickname but would also allow him to work some techie magic on the lock’s micro-circuitry.

“Blogger! Front and center.” Damn. The Captain couldn’t have heard me laughing. Could he? Bent over to make myself as small a target as possible, I maneuvered up to where he and the Lieutenant. were conferring. “Blogger, I need to know what is written on this road sign and the warehouse.”

“Don’t know, Captain. Haven’t got a handle on the local lingo yet.”

“Screw your wetware, Blogger. Use your translator. Quit the foreplay on that lock and get it open, Four-Eyes!” The Captain has a nice way of keeping everyone on the bounce.

And I knew he wasn’t going to like this. “Can’t Captain. The language chip you gave me isn’t translating.”

That earned me a nasty look from the Lieutenant. “And you wait till now to test it, Private?”

“No sir, what I meant was that it works fine. On Sirus-4. It’s mislabeled and I had no local language sources to test on before we landed.” Definitely not one of my better moments. I might have to leave this one out of my log.

The Captain stared at me for a few seconds and turned to the Lieutenant. “Got that tran-chip straight from the client, First.” They traded a meaningful glance before the Captain bellowed, “My mom can hack faster than that Four-Eyes!”

With a distracted air that said he was 99% occupied with his task, Four-Eyes muttered, “Unfortunately I hear she’s too busy running her own merc team to help here… Sir.” Damn Techs! They get away with everything, though from the annoyed look on the Lieutenant’s face, Four-Eyes might be taking a couple extra turns at polishing the engine housings during out next port of call. “Just about got it, Sir.”

“Dismissed soldier.” The Captain’s look of mild disappointment makes me feel an about an inch tall as I head back to my position. “Lieutenant. Assign a squad to take the door when it opens.”

“Aye sir.” Glancing back at us, he points. “Gimp, take lead. Prettyboy. Twitch.” His eyes passed over me. Damn it! Wasn’t my fault the chip was wrong. “Flip. And Jensen.”

The last addition to the squad caused a low groan from the vets. Jensen was so new he hadn’t even picked up a handle yet. Nobody liked an untested recruit covering his backside. But the kid took it well with only a slight stiffening of the back.

“Move it grunts!” Gimp took his squad the final twenty meters up the street to the warehouse entrance as Four-Eyes readied to trigger the big cargo door. As his squad took positions on each side of the door split, Gimp nodded to Four-Eyes and ordered, “Rho-fields on!” Being careful not get too close to one another, each squad member was quickly covered by their glimmering personal defense field. I gave a whistle of appreciation for Gimp’s excellent timing. Waiting until the last second to activate the energy shields would give his team the maximum 30 seconds of protection before their battery packs were drained.

As the door split and retracted to both sides, Jensen suddenly broke position and made to squeeze through the door as soon as it was wide enough. Not wanting the Rho-fields to cancel each other out, Gimp was powerless to pull Jensen back. “Jensen, get back!”

Being outlined in a doorway makes you an easy target from inside a dark building. A large particle beam caught Jensen squarely in the chest. There was a blinding flash as the Rho-field absorbed the energy and released some as visible light. Out of that flash, Jensen came hurtling back to land in the middle of the street, almost even with our position.

He lay there unmoving while the same thought ran through everyone’s head. Twenty-five seconds till Jensen’s defense shield died and there’s a big ion cannon in that warehouse waiting for someone stupid enough to try pulling him to safety.

Aurora was a child born in Thessaly to Perinus, a farmer, and his wife, Adriena. They lived contented and simple lives in the hills outside the capital. Now Aurora was a beautiful child with long, flowing hair that would be any women’s envy. But anyone who had ever met Aurora had nothing but love for the child and treasured the time they spent enjoying her sunny disposition. Indeed, a stranger listening to stories about the child would find them fantastical till he had met the girl himself. And so the stories of Aurora travelled until they reached the ears of Ceyx, king of Thessaly. Having just come to the throne and not yet wed, Ceyx decided on a whim to see if the stories were true.

Arriving on the farm and finding Aurora at play in a sun-dappled pasture, Ceyx was struck with her beauty and fell instantly in love. Though he would have to wait three years till she was fifteen to wed, Ceyx demanded that Aurora be sent to the capital and tutored in the ways of the court. Weeping for their loss, the parents of Aurora were still happy for the good fortune that had befallen their only daughter.

A long year of training had passed and served only to make Aurora more charming and beautiful than before. Early Spring, found Aurora outside the capital on break from her tutoring. At times like this, Aurora loved to climb to the highest hill and take the gift of sunlight at it’s best. It was here that Apollo first felt her worship as he rode high in the sky. The strength and purity of her reverance aroused his curiosity. Like those before him, Apollo was captivated by this mortal’s beauty and took her for his own. In his passion, the Sun God failed to note the ill-effect his devotion had upon Aurora. With the casual disregard of a god, Apollo left her and continued his trek across the sky, leaving behind a withered and burnt shell of a mortal.

Blistered and disfigured, Aurora tried to return to the palace of King Ceyx only to be driven away at the gate. “Get away crone. The King does not give refuge to such as you.” The King’s servants beat her till she turned and fled back villages in the hills. But here Aurora was also met with fear and disbelief. “You are not Aurora but a hag. Leave or we shall stone you.” Fleeing again, Aurora at last came to the farm of her parents.

Apollo’s passion had consumed Aurora’s beauty and youth such that even her parents were unable to recognize their own daughter. “You are old and withered, witch. Aurora is young and beautiful with a bounty of hair that flows like a river. You have naught on your head but sores and scars.” Not wanting to hear more, Perinus drove Aurora from the only home she had ever really known. Scared and bewildered, Aurora retreated into a nearby forest and remained there hidden away from all those who knew her only as a beautiful child who loved to play in the sun.

Soon word came from the capital that Aurora had gone missing. Taking this news with the disturbing appearence of the old hag, the villagers began to whisper that perhaps the hag had killed Aurora out of jealousy. As hunters periodically reported seeing the maimed Aurora in the forest, the stories of the Burnt Witch were soon being told.  Mothers began to use them to chasten their children. After thirteen years of hearing of the Burnt Witch and grieving for their daughter, Perinus and Adriena sacrificed their best bull to Artemis, the protector of children. The virgin goddess heard their pleas for vengance in the name of their maiden daughter.  Such was her compassion, that Artemis came down to the Forests of Thessaly to hunt for the Burnt Witch.

Being the goddess of the hunt, Artemis had no trouble finding Aurora where she hid her blackened form by day. As Artemis peered down an arrow shaft at the cowering hulk, she saw what the others could not. The eyes of the goddess saw the soul of a scared and hurt girl inside the shell of this woman-child. Laying aside her bow, the goddess swept Aurora up and gently pried the story from her. Outraged at the injustice the farmers, villagers, and nobles had shown Aurora, Artemis declared “No longer shall I shine in the evening. The light was taken from this child and so shall my light be taken from your skies.” Artemis’ fury was redoubled when she learned it was Apollo, her twin brother, that was the cause of Aurora’s pain.

The people cried out to Zeus in their fear and pain, as nights without moonlight held terror from monsters and bandits. Zeus listened to their pleas, as well as Artemis’ refusals and proclaimed: “For the thirteen years Aurora spent in exile, so shall Artemis take away part of the moon for thirteen days. In remembrance of thirteen years of happy childhood, Artemis shall return a part of the moon each day. One day the moon shall be whole to remind us of the beauty and purity of the child. One day the moon shall be dark to remind us of the lasting pain we can inflict on the child.”

In her anger, Artemis declared that she would chase her brother across the skies till she caught and quenched his fire and Aurora would ride with her to be there when it happened. To this day, the moon still chases the sun and occasionally catches it for brief moments. And at times, when Apollo is especially mad, we can look up and see Aurora’s hair catching fire across the heavens.

Johan pushed himself away from the cave wall where he had paused for a few sweet seconds. No longer breathing in great shuddering gasps, Johan forced himself forward after checking to make sure the child was secure in his sling. He stumbled on, using his long sword as both a crutch and a probe to check the floor for sudden sinkholes.

If he’d had any spare moisture in his body, he would have cried with joy as a sudden turn in the tunnel brought the welcome sound of rushing water. Johan knew he was nearing the surface now that the great underground river was at hand. In his eagerness, Johan moved faster and slipped on the damp tunnel floor that had been smoothed over the ages by running water.

Desperate to keep the child safe, Johan twisted awkwardly as he fell and took the full impact on his chest and face. His long sword clanged clearly above the roar of the river as it spun down the passageway. Surprisingly, the child remained silent as if he realized his newly-returned life depended on it.

Momentarily panicked at being weaponless, Johan plunged down the slippery tunnel, grasping wildly for his sword. There, near the edge of the torrent, it laid waiting for him. As he reached down and grasped the hilt, Johan felt a sudden cold hit him. He could see the frost instantly form on the back of his mud-smeared hand. Johan knew they had found him.

Cursing the gods and himself, Johan peered through the fog of his own breath, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of the three figures he knew must be scant yards away. Laughing to himself bitterly, Johan could hardly believe that he could have come so far and be so near to reaching the surface and yet would fail here. Here, where his son would die again.

“NO!” Johan screamed to the oppressing dark. “You will not have him! I tricked your boatman, Harbard! I outwitted Hel and I beat your watchdog, Garm! I will NOT let you take him back!” As his clothes quickly stiffened in the growing cold, Johan’s strength suddenly deserted him and he sank to his knees. “I promised his mother. I promised.” he whispered as he stared down into the rushing waters. A large bubble went spinning by and a desperate plan was born.

Working quickly, Johan emptied his two waterskins and inflated them with air. Whispering a heartfelt prayer to Frigga, the mother-goddess and protector of children, Johan lashed the waterskins to the leather sling holding his son. “May the gods protect you now my son. Your destiny is of your own making. The death ordained by the Norns has already happened and now you walk your own path. Make it a bold one.”

Reaching down the low ledge to place the makeshift raft into the river, Johan knew he had run out of time. He felt his fate was at hand. Rising up, he turned to face the tunnel and saw them. Shrouded in dark cloth, they moved silently toward him. Once again, Johan cursed his own stupidity. For all his plans and clever maneuvering, he had forgotten to take the Norns into account. He had failed to realize they might be upset at his defiance and reversal of the fate they had decreed for his son.

Johan laughed as he raised his sword. His son was swirling away toward the river’s exit, and a curious lightness filled Johan as he became convinced that his son would find safety at the surface. Perhaps it was the nearness to Norns that gave Johan a glimpse of the future, but he knew that his only task now was to buy his son more time. It would cost him his life, but how many men in Valhalla would be able to brag that they had fought the Three Sisters of Fate in hand-to-hand combat?

As Johan strode forward to meet the single Norn coming down the corridor, his only regret was that he would not be there to see what destiny his son would carve out for himself, free of the fate the Norns had dictated. As his first swing descended toward the shrouded figure, Johan could see one of the other Norns bring a black and pitted knife to bear on a glowing thread stretched between the hands of the other cowled figure.

In the darkness, a child cried out for his father.

Two codgers rocking on the front porch. Dialogue pacing is slow and steady.

Henry: Stole everything I had.
Ezra: Yep.
Henry: Left me with nothing.
Ezra: Nothing.
Henry: Shoot! Even stole my wife.
Ezra: Say what?
Henry: STOLE MY WIFE.
Ezra: I heard that.
Henry: After 32 years of marriage.
Ezra: Long time.
Henry: Stolen away. Just like that.
Ezra: Just like that.
Henry: Stole my boy away too.
Ezra: Yeah?
Henry: Used to come visit. Don’t no more.
Ezra: No!
Henry: Yes. Stole my job too.
Ezra: Really?
Henry: Gave it to some young snot.
Ezra: Shame.
Henry: Stole everything I cared about.
Ezra: Thief.
Henry: I had dreams, ambitions.
Ezra: Amen.
Henry: Gone. Stolen.
Ezra: Long gone.
Henry: I fought in the Big One.
Ezra: Uh-huh.
Henry: Believed in our country. Stole that too.
Ezra: Commies.
Henry: Heh! Used to have hair! Stole that!
Ezra: Ho! Ha ha *cough* *cough*
Henry: Time is a bitch.
Ezra: *cough* Yes indeed. *cough*
Henry: Stole my strength and my eyesight. Stole everything from me that makes a man a man. (pauses for Ezra) Ezra? (glances over) Ezra? (sighs deeply, shakes head and sits back in rocker, sadly) Stole my friends.

Their baying is close, almost in sight.
I drop to the grass; my pups are close by.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

A yelp and a nip to give a good fright,
Now into the den, no time for goodbye.
Their baying is close, almost in sight.

To draw them away, I stand in the light,
Then into the stream, my scent I’ll deny.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

The horn, it rings loud, to a frenzy incite.
To trick this fast foe, I’ll have to be sly.
Their baying is close, almost in sight.

Through a deadfall, all splinters and tight.
My wits fail me now, my tricks go awry.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

A hill up ahead, a towering height.
Perhaps they don’t climb, must give it a try.
Their baying is close, almost in sight.

The scree is too loose, I can’t stay aright.
I give up the climb; the hill is too high.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

A dark hollow log, a refuge just right
Nestled inside, I quietly lie
Their baying is close, almost in sight.

A trap it will be! An end to my plight!
Tumbling out, again I must fly.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

Run fast as I can to the end of my might.
I pant and I wheeze. I gasp and I cry.
Their baying is close, almost in sight.

Cornered at last, the inevitable fight.
Resist to the end and death I will defy.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

The distance I’ve come, my pups are alright.
Face round to the pack, knowing I’ll die.
Their baying is close, almost in sight.
In order to live, I have to take flight.

Persons Represented
Romeo – Captain in the FBI
Ethel – daughter of Paul Onious, the Pirate
Titus Whitus – Section head, Anti-Piracy – FBI

Act I Scene 1
[A Starbucks in the Capital City]

Romeo:
Sweet caffeine tears of the one true goddess;
Bitter taint removed with filtered bodice.
Latte mischievous, so forward and bold.
Mid-summers delight, a frappe served cold.
But alas! ‘Tis been most of a fortnight
Ere I held tight a Hazelnut Delight.
O Menu! Thou infinite, cruel temptress!
Hercules himself faced not such endless
Sysyphian task as now weighs on me.
Their voices call.

Clerk:
Sirrah, your choice will be?

Romeo:
Does the heart beat by choice? Choice is to choose –
Selection of one while others I lose.
To choose to lose is to deny those lost.
Deny denial no matter the cost.

Clerk:
Uhh. Is that one of each sir? To go sir?

Romeo:
The goddess hast called me. My blood dost stir
But sluggishly. Mayhaps a mocha –

Ethel: [behind him in line]
What now?
Pr’ythee order or be gone from the line sir!

Romeo:
Speak you to me?

Ethel:
Rather I’d speak to your hat.
It knows where ‘tis going and where ‘tis at.
A reed in the wind has more constant aim.
Ye gods, this line was moving ere you came.

Romeo:
Then speak to the hat for though without ears
It still will care more for that which it hears
Not, than I will care not for that I hear.

Clerk:
Sir? Your order please?

Romeo:
An order indeed.
A white choc’late espresso for my need.
A coin of the realm for the lady shrew.
Though her drink of choice be a witch’s brew.
Turn this tiger to a kitten, I cry!
Tame her! What say you to this, Lady?

Ethel:
Chai.

Act I Scene II
[Later in the Starbucks]

Romeo:
Indeed the witch’s brew hath worked. How now?

Ethel:
The mist o’ my mind hast been overcrow’d
By the Sun o’ my drink and drinking the Son.

Romeo:
Sweet misery to shine upon you forever.
The sweet heat shared would be a treasure,
But the night would never come in our domain.
I would dare much to call you my Lady,
If you’ll let me call on you my Lady.

Ethel:
‘Twere there no nights, then dream days are heaven
on Earth. Eighth and Market. Apartment 7.

Act II Scene I
[FBI Headquarters]

Titus
Wherefore art thou 2 hours late, Romeo?

Romeo:
Perchance to review surveillance video
On the next search and seizure stakeout.

Titus:
The warrant is signed, now the men will rout
Any suspect we find given the state
Of pirated movies found at Market and Eight.

*BAM* *BAM*

Even though he had expected the pounding on the door, it still made him jump with renewed fear. As his eyes desperately ran across the dim boiler room in search of anything that might help his situation, a small part of his mind was surprised it had taken only ten minutes for them to find him.

“Franklin! We know you are in there.” *BAM* “We need to talk.”

Those ten minutes were more than enough for Jonas Franklin to have mentally run back over the last couple months and found many of the clues he should have seen but had not. Ten minutes to curse himself soundly for birthing another type of curse entirely.

“Dr. Franklin, be reasonable. You know we can get in eventually. We’ve already sent someone for the key.”

The key. His work had been the key. His doctoral work in viral constructs had attracted headhunters from several biopharmaceuticals, but Jonas had eschewed them all to take a research position with the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The project had sounded so promising. Develop a virus for gene therapy that could be deployed by air. The virus would have a flaw in its RNA that would cause it to gradually become unreplicable. In essence, the virus would not be able to reproduce after 50 generations or so. Exposure to oxygen, either while airborne or in the bloodstream would kickoff the RNA-encoded “self-destruct” so that the virus therapy would last only about 3 hours, after which it would leave no trace in the environment or the host. From Jonas’s perspective, it was a fantastic way to keep the virus from mutating to an uncontrollable strain.

“How could I have been so naïve?” he wondered, as he considered the possibility of sneaking out in the air ducts like some B-Grade movie hero. He should have realized that the virus was a perfect weapon. Able to deploy a virulent payload to a localized kill area and then disappear without a trace.

*BAM*

“Doctor, we know you have the field sample. It is imperative you hand it over.”

It wasn’t until the wrong field results were returned to him that he had any inkling how his work had been perverted. Instead of the expected results showing a reduction in udder mastitis in the test herd, he got horrifying results showing an almost 100% infection rate of Ebola in a test group of monkeys. And more terrifying was the field sample containing a pure strain of the anthrax-loaded virus that was included with the field results. It was that test tube the agents wanted so badly. Just looking at it in his hands made Jonas want to faint.

Suddenly, Jonas knew what he had to do and frantically began to search for the tools to do it, but none were to be found. Gathering his courage to do it by hand, Jonas knew he had to put an end to this plot, somehow expose this facility and it’s work.

As the dispatched agent arrived with the necessary key, the lead security agent called through the boiler room door, “Your last chance Doctor. Come out or we are coming in.” To his surprise the door opened and Dr. Franklin rushed out, fists swinging. Instinctively, the agents fired and hit the rushing man several times in the chest.

Quickly bending down, the security agent demanded, “Doctor, where is it?” At the dying biologist’s response, the agent straightened with a frown on his face. “He said, ‘Thank you. This will hurt less.’ “ As Jonas’s last breath escaped his body, his bloody hands slowly relaxed open and several gory objects rolled out. Upon inspection, they appeared to be several nuts from medium sized bolts and apparently Dr. Franklin had unscrewed them with his fingertips, scraping them down to almost the bone.

“Sir, you need to see this.”

Entering the room, the security agent strode over to where another agent was standng beside a blood-smeared panel. Apparently this was the source of the bloody nuts. Curiously, the panel was part of the air conditioning intake vent. Peering into the dark metal vent, the security agent felt a fear like none he had ever known.

Inside was a broken test tube.

(1950’s. Prison interior. Wooden electric chair is center stage. Stage Right: red phone on a small table. Stage Left: wall-panel with dials, gauges, and large breaker switch with safety catch. Center Stage: above and behind chair is institutional-type clock that moves the minute hand with a loud Click-Clack. Onstage is PRIEST with CONVICT bound to chair. Clock is barely heard ticking.)

CLICK-CLACK
(Minute hand moves to 11:55. GUARD enters Stage Right with a water pail. Pauses, locks eyes with CONVICT)

PRIEST: In this hour of tribulation, Lord show forgiveness for this soul, so that…
CONVICT: Can it, Father. I got business with the Executioner-Man. (GUARD crosses to panel, checks dials)
PRIEST: May the Lord have mercy on your soul.
CONVICT: It’s his soul that needs mercy, Father. (PRIEST Exits) He’s the real killer here. So what is your career total?
GUARD: (Emotionless) 17.
CONVICT: Is that all? In what? 8 years?
GUARD: 5.
CONVICT: Shoot man, you’re barely averaging 3 a year. That’s not going to get you into the Hangman Hall of Fame. Pretty cushy job, Mikey, only doing the dirty work three times a year.
GUARD: Guess banking was harder, Joe.
CONVICT: Damn straight, Mikey. Worked my ass off for that bank. Not that they ever appreciated it.
GUARD: That why you embezzled the money?
CONVICT: I EARNED that money! (GUARD glances at clock – 11:55:45) How much time have I got?
GUARD: Just over 4.
CONVICT: I ain’t worried. My lawyers are hounding the Governor right now. That phone will be ringing any moment. (They stare at the phone for an eternal 5 seconds until)

CLICK-CLACK
(CONVICT jumps a little) (GUARD picks up pail. Moves to electric chair. Starts fastening electric conductor bands.)

CONVICT: (With forced camaraderie) Hey Mike, it’s… it’s good to see you again. How long has it been anyway?
GUARD: 9 years.
CONVICT: Whew! Time flies when you’re busy, huh?
GUARD: Yeah.
CONVICT: Look, I know the bank took all my time. I’m sorry. I didn’t have time for friends. I knew you, of all people, would understand because we’re blood brothers, Mike. All the crap we did together! Nothing can change that. We knew we’d always be there for each other, watching each other’s back. Just like we promised. Bank life didn’t give me much time for a social life. Shoot, not even for girlfriends. (Weak laugh) Remember how we used to double date? Always surprised me that you let me go out with your sister. And you with uh… what was her name?
GUARD: Rachel.
CONVICT: Rachel! Yeah, Rachel… so how is Melissa these days?
GUARD: Fine.
CONVICT: Still pining over me?
GUARD: No.
CONVICT: Oh right. Guess not, huh?

CLICK-CLACK
(Startles CONVICT. GUARD takes hand-sponge from pail. Starts dousing electrical bands)

CONVICT: Uh, what’s the sponge bath for, Mikey?
GUARD: So you don’t catch fire.
CONVICT: (Visibly shaken) Look Mike, we need to talk. (In a stage whisper) I know you can fix this, Mike. I just need some time.
GUARD: Nothing I can do.
CONVICT: Mike, I still have connections. I can get you out of here, into a real job, paying real money. A LOT of money.
GUARD: Money you stole?
CONVICT: Mike! You’re the Man here. You run this stuff. Pull a fuse or a plug or something. Anything. Hell, give IT the damn sponge bath.
GUARD: I can’t.
CONVICT: Why, the hell, not?
GUARD: You’ve been convicted.
CONVICT: In case you didn’t notice Mike, this is NOT in my best interests. We’re supposed to look out for each. We’re blood brothers, Mike!
GUARD: It was murder, Joe.

CLICK-CLACK
(CONVICT whips his head around, trying to see the clock.)

CONVICT: (Becoming frantic) I didn’t mean to kill her, Mike. I swear to God, I didn’t.
GUARD: The jury thought different.
CONVICT: It was an accident. We had an argument and I lost my temper. Please, Mike, you have to believe me.
GUARD: It was first degree.
CONVICT: It just happened. I went a little crazy, I didn’t mean to hurt her.
GUARD: They said it was premeditated.
CONVICT: No! No, it was an accident, I swear. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Mike, I loved her. We just didn’t tell anybody because she worked for me.
GUARD: And she found out.

CLICK-CLACK
(CONVICT begins to crack from stress.)

CONVICT: (With growing anger) Yes. Okay. She was my secretary and she overheard one of my phone conversations. She found out that I was skimming some funds.
GUARD: And you killed her.
CONVICT: Yes! There, are you happy? Yes, I killed her. And yes, I planned it. So now you’re going to kill me? What are you going to tell Melissa? “Hey, torched your old boyfriend yesterday!” What a HIT you’ll be at the family reunion. “Hey everybody, remember good ol’ Joe? I fried him last month. Lucky number 18!”
GUARD: She didn’t deserve to die.
CONVICT: She was going to the cops! All I had worked for, all my plans were going to be ruined because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. So I shut her up. Who cares? She was nothing!
GUARD: She was somebody’s sister. (10 seconds to go – GUARD puts hand on switch)
CONVICT: She was a WHØRE! She was sleeping with me to keep her lousy job. She should have kept her mouth shut! (5 seconds to go – GUARD removes safety catch.) I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND, HOW CAN YOU DO THIS? HOW WILL YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF? HOW…

CLICK-CLACK
(GUARD pushes down switch. Lights dim, electric hum sounds. CONVICT convulses, stops. GUARD pushes up switch, lights come back up. Pauses. )

GUARD: (First sign of emotion.) She could have been my sister, Joe.

I care. Is that not enough
to dare purse my need?
To share my life in love.

So fair. Sweet angel of
the air, I beg her take heed.
I care. Is that not enough?

A prayer for a hand-and-glove
affair. On my knees I plead
to share my life in love.

Please spare a glance from above
to flair hope that I’ll succeed
to share my life in love.

Beware. My mind warns thereof
the snare to make my heart bleed.
I care. Is that not enough?

Despair. Like a mourning dove
midair, away my heart will speed.
I care. Is that not enough
to share my life in love?

Story inspired by bpkelsey’s amazing Dragon Fire chop.I glance at my wife over the head of our sleeping son and I can see she also knows the hunter is out there. But we can flee no further. Our strength has reached it’s end and all our tribe has perished. We three are the last of our clan.

They’d descended into our ancient valley homeland in a great terrifying rush. At first we had thought them to be just dumb beasts to be killed and chased away. But we were so very wrong. They were cunning and vengeful, killing all that came before them. Soon all the game in the valley was dead or had fled. We chose to do the same.

Scattered and fleeing for our lives, we have been slaughtered one family at a time. We scratch out a bare existence here in the upper reaches of the mountains, hiding in caves like rats in a hole.

Tonight we lit a fire even though we know it can be seen for miles in the crystal clear mountain air. It was that or freeze to death by morning. And it was that light that drew the hunter to us, like a magpie to a glittering piece of gold.

Rolling one of the heated rocks closer to where my son lies curled against the cold, I pause to absorb his visage into my memory. This forsaken cave is the closest thing to a home he has ever had, having spent his entire life on the run.

I move to the opening and observe the cliffs below. “It’s out there, I can feel it.” my wife says, joining me in my study.

“Indeed. We can stay here until it roots us out of our hole like a couple of terrified mice or we can take the offensive. Perhaps that would be unexpected.”

Nodding her head wearily, the queen of my heart replies, “We can only face them as we have always done, bravely and fiercely. Remember, we do this for our son.”

“Agreed. I expect it’s working it’s way along the cliff base to position for a direct assault. Shall we try a two-pronged attack?”

With a humorless grin, she nods in agreement. “I shall attack head-on while you come in from the flank. Perhaps our combined attack will be enough.” After a quick touch to my cheek, she throws herself off the side of the cliff.

Glancing over the edge, I see her descending slowly in a graceful wheeling pattern, reminding me why I had pursued her for my mate those many years ago. A sudden tenseness in her wings breaks through my reverie and I realize I have lost precious time getting to my own position.

Flinging myself from the cliff, I glide along the cliff-side to prevent appearing as a large shadow against the clear night sky. Dropping lower and banking around to come back up the ravine, I cast about for the intruder that I know is there.

Suddenly a lancet of brilliant lightning leaps up from the ground to strike the cliff-side just above our cave. The dislodged rock crashes down, sealing the entrance to the cave. Burying our son.

With the realization that the hunter has just been waiting for us to exit the cave before sealing it, I feel all hope desert me. This creature is well-prepared and has a plan. And that plan obviously is meant to leave us no chance for escape.

My wife’s scream of rage burns through my anguish, as her flame ignites the mountain air and splashes down upon the ravine floor. Swooping in at a tight angle, she means to bathe the beast until it drowns in flames.

Once again the lightning leaps up from the creature. But the lightning does not strike my wife as she rushes in. Rather it strikes the air below her with a mighty crack that echoes off the ravine walls. Even from where I am, I feel the sudden drop in air pressure as the disappearance of air from beneath my wife causes her to falter. The rush of air into the empty space forces her down to crash into the rocks with a horrific impact.

Seeing attack is futile, I have only one option left. I must save my son if at all possible. Landing on the ledge of the cave, I dig in desperation, knowing in my heart it is for naught. Time slowly passes as I work my way inward and the hunter approaches.

Having been a master of fire my entire life, I wonder if lightning will feel any different.