Footprints

Footprints

By Doug Salway on Saturday, March 10, 2012 at 12:29am

 

The footprints in the snow suddenly ended. The only way to go was up. That seemed to obvious, Charles thought. Back tracking the trail, he noticed several small branches broken off the underbrush.  "You sneaky bastard" he mutter under his breath before plunging into the darkness even further.   The moon wasn’t even close to being full yet, this would make tracking Johnson a little difficult, but not much more. Of course Johnson wouldn’t be able to pace, he wasn’t made for this terrain. To many years behind a desk eating Krispy Kreme will to that to a man. Charles knew that his prey would have to stop before long, and then he’d have him.

It was supposed to be a simple in and out. Johnson worked there so he knew the layout, had the access, had the keys. Charles just needed a job and money plain and simple. Charles liked simple. And it was. The doors were open where they needed to be, this person or that was on break or bathroom, just like Johnson said. Charles made his way to the eighth floor, first door on left. There it was sitting on the desk, no guards, no people in general, one silver metal case. Charles figured if it was important, somebody would be watching it. He picked it up and made his was by down to the parking garage with the same ease.

Charles had been given a location, a secluded place not far off of highway 62, at the base of the mountains. This time of year is usually too cold for camping, so the place should be pretty empty. He was to meet with Johnson for his payment. "The easiest $50 grand I’ve ever made" he thought to himself. Charles threw the case in the trunk and headed north.

The small cabin was easy enough to find and far enough away to deter any unwanted attention. Charles got out of his care to take a look around.  There was another car there as well, Johnson’s obviously. Everything seemed to be in place so he headed in side to make the exchange. The sooner he got his over with the sooner he could get home. The thought of being here after sundown didn’t sit well Charles. "Well it’s about time you got here, did you manage it well" Johnson asked hastily.  "Yeah I got it alright" he said in return. "Let’s get this over with, I need to get back before it gets too late" Charles said, "You bring the money?"  Johnson drew a large smile across his face, "About that", he said, "I’ve decided that I’d make a better profit without a partner. Of course there’s still a need for a patsy." "You see, your finger prints are all over that building, stairwells, and door knobs. When they realize this is missing," Johnson shook the case. "You’ll be the one whose prints come up that don’t belong there."  "So you didn’t even bring my money did you?" Charles asked. "Oh, I have the money, not that you’ll see any of it!" With that Johnson bolted out the door. Charles sat down at the small kitchenette table. "I’ll give him a small head start." He said to himself throwing the dirty spark plug cable on the counter top.

When Johnson rounded the drive way, he saw the hood to his car was up. Not thinking he tried to start it to no prevails. Panic set in, "FUCK!" he shouted and jump from the car. The wilderness was dark and getting darker. "I can lose him on the hiking trail and double back" Johnson thought, and then ran off into the woods.

The moon was almost at its peak when Charles heard the branch snap. He could smell Johnson's sweat soaked clothes in the air. The night filled with new sounds, smells wafted into his nostrils. Then the pain hit, the familiar pain that he had grown accustom to over the years, his bones breaking and rearranging themselves. He fell to his knees ripping at his clothes. Johnson’s backstabbing run would be over shortly. Charles’s laughter turned to growl. Never double cross a wolf.

Friendships past, stories and talltales

Friendships past, stories and talltales

By Doug Salway on Friday, May 25, 2012 at 5:22pm

 

Any of you have that special group of friends? You know, those through thick and thin kind of deals? Well in my life, I've been lucky enough to have two sets. These are the kind of friends that no matter where you are you're always going to keep in touch. I mean we're not just friends, we're family For the next little while, whenever I get the inkling to do so, I'm going to be posting long lost stories of long ago. If anybody finds them entertaining let me know, or if you happen to be one of the people in the story and I've somehow mangled it over time, by all means please correct me.

It was probably a cool autumn afternoon. We had gathered by the lake as we were want to do during this time of year. You see, Bobby was the live in maintenance man at a Christian summer camp. After the Summer had ended the camp would close up till mid spring, so we pretty much had free run of the place for over half the year. At any given time you could find any combination of Bobby, Ben, Paul, and myself just hanging around and running amuck. On this particular day I'm not sure who was there, or even if I was there. Its one of those kind of stories that after so many retellings, you're not so clear on the detail but you know it so well that you may have been there just the same. We're going to assume for stories sake that all four of us were. Like I said before, it was definitely a cool autumn afternoon. We we're gather at the edge of the lake, in a tiny cove just off from the main camp. We would always fish here, best fish, less Gar. We had been sitting quietly on the bank for most of the day, I hadn't caught anything, of course I never did. The day had been pretty peaceful until this vicious creature dug its way straight up from hell. This god awful chirping noise just started coming out of nowhere, breaking that much loved silence. After some looking around we discover the source, this tiny little mud frog had clawed its way up out of the mud. He just sat there chirping away, just happy to be seen and heard. After about ten minutes of this Bobby decided he was over it and pushed the annoyance back into the mud. Squish went his foot and gone was the hell spawn. We all had a good laugh about it and went on fishing. Sometime later the chirping had started again, looking down there was our little friend back for more. Sitting between Bobby and myself, right in the middle of Bobby's footprint. This time it was my turn, I picked up my foot and plopped him even further down in the mud. There was no way he was coming back to bother us, of course I was wrong, he came back louder than ever. This went on for some time, Bobby and I would take turns. We'd push him in and he's come back for more. We all just decided to ignore the little bastard, seem the best thing to do. We four sat there trying our best to pretend that it just wasn't there. That little monster was relentless, he must have continued on for at least two more hours. Just when I was about to push him back in, Bobby let out a milk curdling scream. He slammed his fishing pole to the ground and picked up the 12 gauge shotgun we always carried with us, you in case of trouble. We were in the woods of South Carolina after all, you never know what kind of furry, four legged, man eating, possibly banjo picking nasty was going to come out at you. Anyway, like I was saying, Bobby picked up the gun and aimed at the frog. Now, this aiming consisted of basically resting the barrel right on top of the the frog's head. Before any of us knew what was going on, he pulled the trigger. I don't know about you, but I've never been that close to a gunshot before. Meaning to say, that I was the one right next to Bobby, I'm talking less than a foot away from the frog. Ben and Paul were on either side of us. So, lets recap here shall we, we've got the ground which upon is sitting a frog, a mud frog, maybe 3 inches tall, if that. A 12 gauge shotgun with the barrel on top, and me all cozy right next to it. I would say there was a very loud bang, but I could be certain since I couldn't hear anything over the ringing in my ears from the blast. I looked up at Bobby, he was oblivious of what he had just done. Just standing there, staring at this smoking hole where the frog had been seconds ago. He was covered up to his waist and some of his face with mud, of course we all were cover with mud. Me being the worst since I was sitting down at ground zero. Bobby threw the gun down on the large once was frog hole, sat down and began casting his rod out again. There pretty much was no use fishing anymore, that shot probably scared even the biggest fish away from our spot. We didn't care, we were going to fish anyway. We sat there in quite again, nobody mentioning Bobby's melt-down. About a hour had past since the incident and I was just about to cast out again. I looked down at my feet just in time to seen a large clump of mud that was sitting between me and Ben start moving a bit. Within a few seconds something had emerged from the center of the pile, climb up on top. It just sat there eyeing us, its bulbous eyes twitching back and forth. Then it sucked in a deep breath, big enough for something three times its size and started chirping. It was that goddamn mud frog again! Bobby casually stood up didn't say a word to any of us. He threw his pole in the water, gathered his shotgun strolled away into the dusk.     

Sasha

Sasha

By Doug Salway on Sunday, June 24, 2012 at 1:53am

 

Sasha watched the waves crash into the shore one last time before heading home. Every evening she would make her way down the cliffs to watch the sunset. It had been many a year since she had found her way to this beach.  It had been a small seclude place, with steep cliffs jutting up to the sky. There were only two ways to get to this strand. One way was a small covered maze through the rocks to the bluffs above, or you could just walk out of the ocean. It had been here forty-five years ago where she had happened upon Kieran, he was a young handsome man then. She could remember everything about that moment, how could she not. It was the first time she would lay eyes upon the man she would love for the rest of her life. They met every day that first summer, just after dawn. They lay in the sand, she remembered, it would be their last sunset. He was to ship out in the morning; he was the boatswain for the Sesothis. She would be setting sail, carrying people and cargo to the Americas. Kieran had signed up for three runs, meaning he would be at sea for almost 2 years. “Wait for me” Kieran asked, “Yes” Sasha whispered, “I will stay for you” and she stayed, never returning to the beach. The first six months passed quickly, they declared their love over the few days he would be docked refitting the ship. Kieran had no family to speak of, and she had given up everything for him, so the wedding was handled quickly by the Captain. They spent his finally night in married bliss, and he was off again at first light. She had already moved into a small waterside apartment. It was close enough to the water to smell the salt air, but far enough away to keep her at peace. The next six months came to a close and Kieran was glad for it. One more time across and he’d have enough money to make a life. Sash met him on the docks as before, only now she was different. Her belly swelled with the gift their short honeymoon had bestowed on them. She cherished the few moments she would have with him, but was saddened to think that he would miss the birth of their child. He would most likely be just beginning his last voyage home when hopefully their son was being born. Though she prayed to give him a son, she bore him a fine, strong girl. Every bit her mother in a tiny form, she named her Tighe. Upon returning, Kieran took the position of the lighthouse keeper. Sasha was happy to be out of the apartment and closer still to the ocean. They lived through the years as a family should; they lived and loved for one another. Shortly after Tighe’s seventeenth birthday, she told her parents she needed to leave. That she longed be at sea. Her father smiled warmly, “you’ve got your father’s salt in your bones, you have a yearning for the sailor’s life.” “No” Sasha thought that wasn’t it. “Does the night breeze call your name daughter?”; “Do you still feel dry after having water?” Puzzled, Tighe answered yes. “Tonight then, we three shall go to the beach and your questions will be answered. The walk down to the water was slow and quiet. Sasha could tell Kieran would be in need of answers as well. She only hoped he would listen to them. Kieran built a fire to warm and light them, while Sasha unrolled a bundle she had carried under her arm. “What is this?” Kieran asked, “It looks like a seal’s skin.” “It is mine” she said quietly. “I had just taken it off all those years ago when we first met on the beach”, “I loved you from the moment I saw you and when you asked me to wait for you, I never again needed to wear it.” Kieran was still confused. “Why would you need to wear it and how does this concern our daughter?” Sasha sighed, tears in her eyes, “because she’s only half Selkie. Being part human, she doesn’t have the ability to shift, not without this.” Sasha smoothed her hands over the soft pelt that she hadn’t touched in what seemed like a life time. “Mother, what does this all mean?” Tighe asked. “Here, it will be easier if I showed you.” Sasha whirled the skin over child’s shoulders. There in the moon light, against the glow of the fire with a faint shimmer, her daughter was no more. There before them sitting in the sand was a small black seal. Kieran gasped, hardly believing what he had just seen. Sasha grab the back of the seal and will a gentle pull, slid back the skin from Tighe. “This is your birthright, my past, my legacy. Now I give it to you, so you may make your own choice like I did.” Sasha took her husband by the hand stepped back away from the fire. Tighe, holding the skin, stepped into the surf and disappeared. “Do not worry, my love.” Sasha reassured her husband, “She will be back.” Tighe returned from time to time, letting her parents know she was healthy and happy. Sasha took over the lighthouse after Kieran fell ill. He would have done better in a dryer climate, but would not leave the sea, not for her. Not for us. Sasha watched the waves crash into the shore one last time before heading home. The salt misted on her cheeks, hiding her tears.

The Nexus

The Nexus

 

By Doug Salway on Monday, October 22, 2012 at 3:26pm

 

Standing here on the dock, looking over into the water, it’s hard to believe I died here 150 years ago today. My name is Ruari Flynn and I was born Galway Ireland in 1842. My father having moved my family to America to get away from the famine, we found life here to be not so different from home. My family finally found a stroke of luck in a small patch of land in Missouri, the farm was very prosperous. So much so, that my father had arranged a marriage for me to small merchant from home. I was to sail back to Ireland meet my husband to be. My ship was to set sail from New York harbor at early in the morning of September 1st, 1862, of course I never made it to the ship. According to history, I was waylaid by two men. They came up from behind me, one man clasping his hand over my mouth, and dragged me off out of sight. After robbing me of my possessions, I was stabbed and thrown into the water. The men responsible for my death were found a month later trying to pawn what was left of my jewelry. They confessed to the crime, were hanged and my body was never recovered. It was never recovered because I am still very much in use of it. You see, in my time this would have been a very mortal wound. If it had not been for Tarek, it would have been.  Tarek found me floating in the water just moments after, my life’s blood spreading across the water like a sheen of oil.

I remember waking in a panic, I had just been stabbed! I felt my stomach, there was no wound, and there wasn’t even scar for that matter. Sitting up and looking around I appeared to be in a small room very much like my own back on the farm. There was an oil lamp burning on the table in the corner. At the table sat a man, Tarek. “Well you seem awake Miss Flynn, after you’ve dressed, kindly meet me outside if you please.” With a slight nod of his head, he left the room. At the foot of my bed were some clothes for me, very odd clothes indeed. They seemed more like men’s clothes what with the breeches and high boots with the laces. Well I couldn’t just sit here in my dressing gown; I managed to figure out how to fasten everything and stepped out of my room into what would be the first day of my new life.

I opened the door and the light flooded in, I had never seen anything so bright and incredible in all of creation. The noise was almost deafening. I felt faint all at once and almost fell. Tarek caught and steadied me. “Welcome to the Nexus Miss Flynn”, “Come, I’m sure you’re famished, let’s get you something to eat while I try to explain the situation you now find yourself in.” He took me to a place they called the lounge. He says this is where most of the agents go to wait for their next assignments. We took a table in the back, the place was practically empty. “Am I dead?” I asked, having a pretty vivid memory of being stabbed and throw off a dock. “Yes and no.” Tarek stated, “You see, this place where we are now is called the nexus. It exists between times. Are you familiar with the concept of time travel, perhaps not? Let me see if I can explain, time as we know it from the beginning, flows forward like a river. What we do here is make sure the river stays flowing smoothly as possible in its intended direction. We make sure the river is never dammed or forked. If the timeline should splinter, we’d be stuck with alternate times, separate rivers flowing in different directions, thus damaging the natural order of things. Are you starting to understand?” I nodded my head, "a bit, but how is it that we’re able to be here? This place I guess, time doesn’t move here does it?” “That’s right” he said, “time is at a standstill here, no forwards, no backward, shoot, we don’t even age while we’re here.” He explained further what it was they do here. The nexus as they call it is like an outpost where they, meaning Tarek and the rest of the people here police the timeline. Correcting its flow and putting back misplaced people and items. From what I gathered, they have a means of opening small ripples to be able to go anywhere or any when they need to. Apparently there are naturally occurring ripples allover the world. People and things accidentally end up wandering through them. Dinosaur and cavemen mistaken for monsters, something call the Bermuda Triangle, apparently things end up there all the time. Oh and a gentleman by the name of Presley, he got a hold of one of their keys and has been nothing but trouble since. They have a tracking system that alerts them to any shifts that need to be corrected. “It also alerts us to new possible agents, such as yourself.” Tarek said. “Well if I’m all healed, why can’t you just put me back where I belong, I’m supposed to be getting married” He looked at me with sadness in his eyes and slid a newspaper along the table top to me. It was opened to the story about two murderous thieves whose victim was never found, me. “Well yes, but I was found, by you, and now I’m healed, you can just put me back in the water and I’ll swim to shore, everything will be fine.” Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. The reason I’m such a viable candidate for being an agent is that my time has ended without any repercussions to the time stream. If I were to go back it would be in the same condition I was found. I would be dead and time would flow on. I think my choice was pretty clear.

That brings me back here to the docks, 3:00am September 1st, 2012. Tarek and I are now partners; this is our first official assignment. A ping in the system brought us here. After some investigating and one sunken cruise ship, it’s not every day that Carnival Cruise Lines gets besieged by cannon fire; we found what we’re dealing with. We’ve set up a parlay and hopefully we can negotiate. Really though, how does one tell Edward Teach that he’s in the wrong place and he needs to turn around?

Last Christmas

Last Christmas

 

The hotel room was quiet, the kind of quiet you would expect at three o’clock in the morning in the middle of nowhere U.S.A. It was dark and dingy, well-worn from years of travel and use. The aroma of time hung in the air, clinging to the walls like an inviting perfume. The thread bare curtains and the ancient looking wall clock  just added to the ambiance. He thought this was as nice as any place for a journey’s end. He hung his jacket neatly over the back of the chair and threw hat on the bed. He headed to the bathroom to start the water. His road had been long and hard, one filled enough potholes and bumps to fill three lifetimes. All he wanted now was to rest. You could call the tile white twenty years ago maybe, not so much now. Black had started creeping its way along the edges, filling in the gaps. Black always had a way of doing this the man thought to himself. Whether it was the grout on the toilet or the cracks in a man’s soul, black always seeps in. It was small, but the tub was large enough for a man his size to stretch out in comfortably. He splashed the water a little bit with his hand to make sure it was the right temperature. The man went back to the bed and sat down, started untying his shoes. After several moments of looking at the floor, he stood up to finish undressing. He walked back the bathroom. The water was almost to the top, he let the hot water stay on a little longer before shutting it off. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He took in a deep breath; his shoulders slumped down with a small sigh. The lines etch into his weather face were as rough as the road he traveled getting here. Here he was after all these years, all these long years. Is this where he was heading all this time, was this the right path he chose? Sure, he thought, guess it was. After all he was the master of his own destiny right? He was right where he was supposed to be, he was sure of it. Sure things could have been better along the way. Did he always choose the right road to take, probably not. He could have spent more time with his family, his wife, but there was always something that needed doing; there just wasn’t that much time. His eyes got wet at the thought of it. He should’ve made time for the little things. Holding her hand, sitting with her, even just telling her one more time how much he loved her. How she had been his world. She was his wife, the mother of his two boys, his friend, and his travel companion. Her journeys ended years ago, he was left to raise his family on his own. His boys were grown now with children and destinations of their own. He had seven grandchildren between. She would have loved every one of them. His chest hurt at the thought of it, he fought to hold it in. He clenched the sink with both hands to steady himself. He could see the window behind him, snow had started falling. It was building up against the glass. A white Christmas he thought, she always loved Christmas, it was her favorite time of the year. The decorations, the merry making, and we always spent it at home together. He looked back into the mirror and brushed the tears from his eyes. He gathered up what he needed and stepped over to the tub. He stepped in and eased himself down. The heat of the water was a stark contrast of the coolness of the room. He laid back and relaxed some, letting his age weary muscles soak of the warmness that swallowed him. The clock began to chime, bong bong  bong  bong  bong, five o’clock in the morning. He pushed himself up. He sat thinking; it was five o’clock Christmas morning. He looked down into the water and sighed again. Children, all over the world, were getting up to open their presents. He opened his wrists.

Three Miles to Regret

Three Miles to Regret

 

The night air cool on my face coming in through the windows of the bus. It was too dark to see much of the scenery, but there’s not much to see out here in the desert. The jostling of the ride and the crunch of the wheels on the dirt road were almost enough to make me sleep, almost dream. The occasional rut and the snap of the chains on my wrists always brought me back to focus.

We’d been traveling for days now, just the seven of us. The four guards, myself and the two other prisoners. The guards never talk much, at least not to us anyway. My travel companions, on the other hand, you couldn’t shut them up. Sal, I’m guessing is short for Sally, was short and round. She was young but had the look of someone twice her age. Drugs have a way of aging you. She had a mop of black hair that looked like it had been cut by a blind barber missing a few fingers. She was serving fifty years for double manslaughter. Apparently when choosing the location for your meth lab, the room adjacent to your children’s bedroom is not the ideal location. When volatile chemicals explode, things get messy.  Bill, the other one, was a stark opposite. He was old, balding and thin as a whip. He didn’t say why he got pinched, but the way his eyes crawled all over Sal, I could pretty much guess. I didn’t talk to any of them, had no reason to. They didn’t know me and didn’t want to know them. It didn’t matter where we all came from; we were all heading to the same place, Redemption.

Project Redemption they called it, supposed to be some sort of rehabilitation center. The doctors would come every couple of months and recruit among the inmates with promises of salvation and early parole. If there weren’t any takers, the warden gave them their pick from solitary. The candidates all had two things in common, violent crime and no family to speak of.

There were all sorts of rumors around the yard about Redemption. Government ran facility out in the middle of nowhere coupled with the fact that nobody was ever seen again who left for there. I mean, you’d think that there’d be something on the news about all the great work they do there. Like I said, rumors abound. Some say we’re just over crowded and this was a clean way to make some extra room, others think they’re brainwashing us to turn us into super spooks. Some even think it’s for genetic testing, the kind of things that make what the perfume companies do to mice look like a family vacation. I don’t really care what they do there. The white coats said they could make me forget and that’s all I need.

My wife haunts me every day; she’s always here with me, constantly reminding me of my piss poor choices. It was a typical request, milk, that’s all she wanted. I was tired from work and I forgot to stop. She wanted me to run down to the market, but I just wanted to relax. I told her to get it herself if it was that damn important. After a few harsh words and the slam of the door she was gone and I was sleeping in my chair. I had woken me up, my wife still wasn’t home. I decided to take me a shower. The bedroom was all decked out in blue and pink balloons. I found the plastic tab with the plus sign on it with a little note that read Congratulations Daddy! on it. I started to cry when I read it.

There was pounding on the door; it was the cops, something bad had happened. A city bus driver had been pulling double shifts, dosed off coming to the light and lost control. The judge ruled it as an accident, told me he was sorry for my loss. The driver walked without as little as a ticket they said it was just unfortunate. Tears of joy ran down his face as he hugged his wife and son after the verdict was read. I hated them, all of them, they needed to pay.

His address was easy enough to find. He lived in a modest dwelling befitting a bus driver. The front door came splintering off the hinges under the weight of my shoulder. They were just sitting down for dinner, all together at the table, made it fairly easy for me. “Please, I’ll give you anything!” he cried up at me, “Anything?” I asked in return. “Anything!” he cried. “I WANT MY FAMILY BACK!” I shrieked. I turned and leveled the shotgun at his wife and began squeezing the trigger, her face contorting into a scream.

The bus slammed to a stop. My head rocked back and I opened my eyes. We were at what looked like a gate house. The officer came aboard the bus to check our identification. He checked us off the list and when to talk to the driver. “About how much father is it?” asked the driver. “Just keep on this main road and don’t make any turns. It’s about three more miles.”

People sign up for Redemption for just that. The hope of a new life and a clean slate, I want neither. I’m beyond that, beyond saving. I have no remorse, only regret.