The Voice Read online

  And then, just like the others before him, he was gone, transported back to Earth to work on the docking port. The hum decreased in volume and was gone as well.

  Inside my head, I wondered what the man’s name was.

  I didn’t need to ask out loud to receive an answer.

  The voice answered me in my head, “His name was John.”

  - CHAPTER NINE -

  Marie had slipped completely into unconsciousness. The beast had used it’s own power of extra sensory perception to induce a coma-like effect on Marie. She had been sleeping now for almost three days.

  When she awoke, she was no longer in her backyard. She had been taken aboard a spacecraft. She was placed comfortably on what felt to her like satin sheets and an extra soft pillow. As she awoke, she was still not sure if what she experienced was a dream or not. However, the unusual surroundings were confirming her fear that what she had experienced was indeed real.

  Finally, the voice spoke to her.

  “Marie, do not be afraid, John is safe.” The voice seemed convincing and kind.

  Sitting up, she noticed the creature standing nearby. Jolting back to reality with an almighty sense of apprehension, she tried to scream but could not.

  “Do not worry,” said the voice, trying to comfort her. “We are not here to harm you, we are here to help, show you how great you can be. We have been watching Sebulese and we are currently not pleased. Once again, humans have squandered the chance they have been given. You will have an opportunity to make things right again. However, this will be the last chance.”

  Marie was dumbfounded, not sure what the voice wanted or expected. In her head, Marie lined up all the questions she had, hoping the voice would provide some clarification.

  What is it you want from me? Thought Marie.

  “You will be the child bearer,” answered the voice. “You will be Mother of the new world.”

  Why Me?

  “You know that is a silly question Marie.”

  Why is it silly?

  “It makes no difference who we choose, there is no formula for selecting someone. You are healthy and able to bear children, that is all we are concerned with.”

  What if I...

  “Don’t want to.” The voice finished her thought. “Now Marie, do you think that wise?”

  She sat there in stunned silence, trying to free her mind from thought. She was still alive, so was John. Hang in there, she told herself.

  “You should rest some more,” said the voice. “In a short time, you will meet your counterparts and be given further instructions about your mission.”

  Mission?

  “Marie, you are destined for a remarkable greatness, your mission will test your will. Trust us and the answers will be there to find.”

  - CHAPTER TEN -

  It was a tidal wave of emotion I was experiencing. To have lost my identity and then, suddenly have it all flood back into my brain at once. It was an overwhelming mixture of confusion and joy.

  The events of the last few hours had left me in a state of total shock and awe. I could not even begin to imagine what the voice wanted from us now.

  After John disappeared, Peter and I were taken aboard the spacecraft. We spent the better part of the last several hours being ‘conditioned’ for what is being called our transformation. Stuffed with all kinds of liquids and some food, none of it recognizable.

  A massive and frightening looking creature had been administering the fluids and food to us, some of it intravenously. The creature looked like the rest of the crew, enormously tall and muscular. The most frightening thing about the creature was his blistering red eyes.

  My fear had subsided somewhat, I knew I’d be dead already if they wanted me to be. I also had to admit that the thought of not going back to earth was a pleasant one. Of course, I did miss my Father, but having Peter here was a comfort.

  “It is time,” The voice said. “We have been feeding you a mixture of what we call, potency enhancing substances. Everything you’ve been fed will have the chemical reaction necessary to help complete the transformation. We will be intravenously administering you two doses of a very powerful thermo-kinetic substance from our home planet. This substance will transform your skin into an armor almost impossible to penetrate. It will be your protection as you begin your mission. To save you the pain of the process, we will put you to sleep first.” The voice paused a moment and then asked, “any questions?”

  What do you want from us? I thought to myself.

  “It is not what we want that is important,” The voice answered. “if we want anything, it is a better life for you.”

  YOU destroyed us, YOU did this to us.

  “It would be easy for you to assume that, but we have done nothing but save you from yourselves.”

  So give us a chance!

  “What do you think we’re doing right now.”

  I could feel myself beginning to fall asleep. The weight of it all was suddenly leaving me. I heard the voice ask once again. “Any other questions, Adam?’

  Could I maybe get a cold beer?

  “Very funny Adam,” answered the voice, as I fell into darkness.

  - CHAPTER ELEVEN -

  Marie was ushered down a long corridor, shown to a dressing area and asked to put on the flight suit that was laid out for her. It was white and shiny with zippers, several pockets both on the jacket and the pants.

  After she was done, she emerged to see the beast waiting for her. He led the way down another long corridor, all white, almost blinding.

  They turned into a room where there sat two men, also in the same white flight suits. They were both having their intravenous needles removed from their arms when Marie walked in.

  The voice then spoke to them all. “Marie, meet Adam and Peter.”

  Marie was always uncomfortable with introductions but this was beyond ridiculous. What was she supposed to say?

  “Why don’t you just say hello Marie,” The voice said.

  And so she did, offering a handshake to both Peter and Adam. As awkward as it was, the men exchanged pleasantries.

  Finally, the time had come for them to receive their mission.

  The three of them were led to the cockpit area, Adam and Peter were very familiar with all the instrumentation and operating procedures associated with flying this vessel. They had serviced every part of almost every type of spacecraft for years. This particular model, the GS-42 series was equipped with all the latest technology including light-speed travel.

  “The time is now,” said the voice. “This is the beginning, Dies Unus! Your mission is simple but for some reason your kind has had much difficulty assuming this task. This is the fourth and final time we will be giving the human race this opportunity, after this, should you fail, your kind will be doomed to live the rest of eternity as slave workers on Planet Earth. Your mission is to take this spacecraft and start again. Find a suitable planet to call your home. Build families upon families and love each other. The last part seems to be the most difficult for humans. But love is the highest priority of all, should you learn how to use it, you will understand how amazing life could be. You use but ten percent of your brain, this is no one’s fault but your own. Teach your children well and instill in them the thirst for knowledge so that they do not fail. The opportunity is now before you, I wish you well.”

  They were left on the spacecraft to ponder their newfound mission.

  They were now the pioneers of a new human race. If a free life for mankind were to continue, it would now be up to them.

  Then they noticed it.

  They were alone.

  The voice was gone.

  - EPILOGUE -

  And so it was that on the third day after the annihilation, we began again.

  SHOTGUN

  VALLEY DRIVE HOLGRAPHIC CINEMA

  ATLANTA, GEORGIA: 11:22PM, AUG. 28th, 2058

  Gripped with fear, I stretch out next to a toilet bowl and begin to pray.
/>   The movie ended for everyone fifteen minutes ago. There were only a dozen people watching the dreadful low-budget documentary when shots were first fired. The theater quickly turned into a bloodbath, shots ripping through flesh, bones crackling under the weight of relentless shotgun blasts.

  Not knowing what to do, I fled the theater, ran to the bathroom and hid.

  Clinging onto this sullied toilet bowl, I pant with irregular streams of breath. Wet toilet paper is stuck to the white tiled floor, a moldy stench floating through the dampness in the air. The green beaten-up stall door is locked, although I don’t remember locking it. Iridescent bathroom lights flicker through the smoky haze.

  I check myself for wounds, I wasn’t hit. I’m sweating profusely, remembering the harrowing screams, the people dying all around me. It was only a few moments of time, but in that time life ended in the most vile and abrupt of ways. Guts and gore splashing onto the seats; fearful, faceless victims ducking for cover to no avail.

  Enough time has passed now, I can let out a huge sigh of relief. I’m in the clear, the gunman must have left the theater. There would be no reason for him to stick around, with all that blood, I’m quite sure he killed them all. The last images I can remember is him standing there with a sick grin on his face; a slaughterhouse before him. I don’t even know how I was able to escape; but I did…for now anyway.

  Then I hear the door to the bathroom open. It’s rusty hinges screech to a halt as it bangs into the dilapidated concrete wall.

  Through a crevice in the stall frame, I see a human figure. I hear the unmistakable thump of a heavy footfall, then another, then another.

  Crouching down on the floor next to the toilet, I see the boots, muddy brown with silver tips. Squatting down even further I see a man wearing a long black trench coat. That has to be the gunman. Certainly there is plenty of room inside the coat to hide a shotgun? And now I have cornered myself, I’m as good as dead. My brains will soon be splattered all over this small grimy stall. This is how I’ll die, on the floor in fetal position, whimpering next to a filthy toilet bowl.

  Holding my breath, I feel my heart beat faster and faster, pounding furiously like a jackhammer pummeling my chest cavity.

  The man approaches.

  Methodically placing one boot in front of the other, the man is heading right towards my stall. There is nowhere to go.

  Should I scream? No, I should wait it out, maybe he’ll leave, maybe I can talk him down, it’s possible, anything’s possible…

  I cannot lie, I know instinctively who this man is. It has to be one of the celebrated guards of the new world regime. And they were sent here to kill me, no doubt. My insubordinate internet posts have finally caught up with me. The government takes no prisoners since the great civil war, and now I will pay with my blood.

  I’ve spent the better part of the last six months posting in every forum and chat room I could find. Ripping apart the new world regime and all the false promises they have so flippantly made. I’m tired of it all; the phoniness, the masquerade, the blatant deceptions.

  I urgently gasp for a few jagged breaths. Fear consumes my every fiber when I realize my breathing will certainly lead to my discovery. But I have no choice, I can’t hold my breath any longer. As I frantically smack my hands over my mouth, I feel my right foot kick out from under me. My sneaker makes a terrible scratching sound on the tile.

  That’s it, I am done for!

  Moving with purpose, I hear the boots coming straight for me. Unable to suppress my terror any longer, I begin to wheeze, a pathetic childish bawl. Then, suddenly, the boots stop. The man stands right outside the bathroom stall.

  One long second in the unknown passes us by. The harrowing silence of doom chomps through my thin wall of awareness. My sanity takes flight as dread becomes my companion.

  Then, shockingly, the boots turn away. They arch quickly, the silver tips clinking as the man runs from the bathroom. I breathe easy, perhaps luck is with me on this night.

  But wait, there are several voices muttering something right outside the door.

  “Come out with your hands up,” shouts a booming voice from just outside the bathroom.

  I shake my head and look down to the floor.

  There on the floor, I see it.

  And now I remember it all. Staring up at me like a vulture ready to strike, I look down to see the shotgun I just used.

  My memory pleasantly returns to me. I killed them all, and I loved seeing them die. They are all fakes and phonies. They deserved a fate such as this. My mission is complete, I have conquered them all.

  I decide to give up, echoing the words over and over again in my head, “I knew I could do it, I knew I could do it!”

  STROMBOLI HIGH

  “You done rollin’ that yet?” Anthony asked impatiently, his twitching deep set eyes blinking furiously.

  “Keep your pants on chief,” Gabriel answered calmly, dumping the last of the baggie onto the rolling paper. “Just take a chill pill partner; you need to learn the fine art of patience.”

  “No, I don’t!” Anthony snapped, taking off his Met’s baseball cap to run his fingers through his tousled and dirty brown hair.

  The lake swished softly just behind them. They were alone on the sandy shoreline, the early morning beginning to creep in, violet clouds settling on the horizon, a chill in the autumn air.

  “C’mon already,” Anthony barked, “You roll that thing like my grandma. Just let me do it.”

  “No, you can’t, you’re too freaked out right now.”

  Gabriel finished rolling it, carefully sealing the cigarette shut. He held it up to his nose and smelled it. “Now, you do know what’s in here right?”

  “Would you give me a freakin’ break,” Anthony said, punching his fists together. “Just light it!”

  Gabriel took out a long lighter with a Black Sabbath logo on the side and lit the cigarette. This was not like any other joint they had smoked before. There was no marijuana in this cigarette.

  “C’mon already,” Anthony yelled, “I gotta be home before my Dad gets up. I gotta work today.”

  Gabriel grinned. He was fifteen years older than Anthony. His innocent charm, blonde crew-cut and muscular physique covered up the malicious intent lurking inside. “Tell me you understand what you’re about to do?”

  Anthony’s eyes widened, “Now you’re just pissing me off. Light it!”

  “No,” Gabriel shouted, “first, you have to tell me you understand…and you will accept the consequences…whatever they may be.”

  Anthony’s bloodshot eyes twirled, he rocked his head back and forth, “For cryin’ out loud, yes, I understand, whatever you say, just give me a drag already!”

  Gabriel smiled knowingly and handed the joint to Anthony.

  The gates opened. Gabriel sat behind a menacing gray cloud of smoke, his minions dressed in sparkling robes as Anthony approached.

  “You belong to me now,” Gabriel said, his face a shining beacon of fire, yellowy-orange haze surrounding his torso. His wings were mammoth, stretching out on both sides, flapping in foggy vapors.

  Panic consumed Anthony, “Where am I? Who are you?”

  “I am your destiny,” Gabriel answered.

  “You’re not Gabriel. Don’t mess with me!” Anthony screamed.

  The minions of angels laughed, the white clouds grew thick and dark. With a thunderous boom, a golden cage crashed down around Anthony, trapping him inside. Grabbing onto two shiny bars, he thrust his head forward, squinting to see through the ambiguous surroundings.

  “What do you remember?” Gabriel asked.

  “I remember smoking a joint with you.”

  “I told you it wasn’t a joint, you don’t listen.”

  Anthony began to laugh, “Ok, I’m tripping…fine, I get it.”

  “Believe what you will,” Gabriel spoke with a seriousness that made all listen and fear. “You have crossed the line, my friend. You belong to us. And you will do my bidding
from now until the end of time…”

  “Anthony! You high?” Sara asked.

  My head popped up, a little drool coming out of my mouth. “Oh, sorry,” I said, regaining my bearings.

  I sat on a stool, guitar in hand, in the rear storage room of Gino’s Music Store and Pizzeria.

  “Boss will be in soon,” Sara said as she grabbed some staff paper from a silver file cabinet, taking time to slam the drawer shut with authority. “Get yourself together, dirt bag!”

  “Get a life, Sara,” I said, wiping the drool from my lips. “When did I get here?”

  “You were here when I got in, you were sitting right there looking like a corpse.” Sara was not one to mince words. She’s in my 10th grade history class where we never speak. I got the job here as a part-time guitar teacher, full-time pizza delivery boy because my Uncle Gino owns the shop. When he asked if I knew anybody who played clarinet, I thought of Sara cause she’s always carrying it around. My mistake, I never would have asked her to work here if I knew what a ball buster she’d turn out to be.

  Sara turned at the door, adjusted her black hair which was tucked up into a bun, a pencil slipped through the knot. She was skinny, too skinny, and not much of a looker. She did play a mean clarinet though.

  “Hey, wait,” I said. “I’ve really been here all morning?”

  “You’re wasted! Get it together!”

  “I’m not wasted,” I said, realizing that I should’ve been. I smoked the joint this morning with Gabriel; then….well, I don’t remember. The most shocking thing is I’m not high, not even a little bit. I’m not that concerned with the fact that I don’t know how I wound up here, I’ve blacked out before. I’m pretty pissed though cause I clearly remember smoking the joint, and now, I’m not even a little high. What happened?