Critical Mass, Chapter 25: Chrysalis of Fate

 Upon waking, Thor realized there would never be an environmental revolution in his lifetime. What he witnessed on channel after channel, program after program, was nothing but elevated doses of the same maniacal garbage for the mind that caused things to digress to this point in the first place. One stupid, pointless distraction after the next, saturating the general public to the point of desensitization while the world slowly choked. Apparently he had stayed up all night last night, and was face down and asleep on the desk for most of the day, television rambling on and on. He even woke up with a small remote controller stuck to his forehead, leaving a deep imprint.

Across the planet, in even less fortunate places, things were utterly chaotic at best. Mankind was losing control altogether. There were wars, diseases, and human rights catastrophes he was never even aware of, and the world was in much worse shape than he had ever speculated. The problem had accelerated right past the point of reversibility probably before he was even born, and was still gaining momentum! The only revolution that would occur would have to happen after an extreme drop in human population. We were becoming an itch in so many different ways, it was inevitable now that Mother Nature would be scratching it very soon....

He had thought about it long and hard, and what would have seemed like complete idiocy not two days ago, was fast becoming his only real option. He must have seen the commercial a hundred times last night; played repeatedly in the middle of the night for the insomniacal loser demographic who had no real life anyway, and would gladly pay big money to roll the dice on their future.... "Suspended Sunrise" from CryoKinetics Inc. was the suspended animation program offering its purchasers a new lot on life; a chance to see the future open up right before their very eyes, and to sidestep the impending doom that was staring them in the face. Given the recent turn of events, he had to admit, this had a certain appeal to him.

He used to balk at the very idea, but now that he sat here, knowing full well that the predictions were correct, how could he consign himself to oblivion? He had made a pact with himself on the memory of his family not to squander his life, but rather, to live it to its fullest potential... how could he fulfill this vow from a sinking ship? There was nothing for him here; he had to come to terms with that, first. This world was as alien to him as it would feel to a person from the dark ages stuck in this modern mess of honorless, money worshiping opportunists; blind to everything that truly matters. Not only would he never be happy here, he would be damn lucky, as would anyone, to survive for much longer at all. He decided to follow through with a plan to liquidate everything and check into this program at once.

He looked the place up on the Internet. He had to admit, they had a pretty enticing pitch. He was actually starting to get fairly excited about this decision. Luckily the company was centered in Old Seattle, not 30 minutes by Autocab, even less by light rail or commuter train, and the night was still young. With any luck, he could make all the necessary preparations before dawn, and be at their steps by the time they opened for business.

He opened up the filing cabinets again, this time to see what assets Stanton had, and to help organize them for liquidation. To his surprise, and relief, it looked like Stanton had been doing quite a bit of this already. The only thing left that wasn't already attached to his account was a sell order on the townhouse itself, and apparently there had already been three offers on it! It looked like Mr. Stanton was getting ready to disappear again, but as fate would have it, it looked like he didn't quite make it in time.

Thor went about the rest of his business quickly and efficiently. He transferred all the money to another account, one of his choosing, then closed the old one. He then opened a new account in Jerrick's name and put 100,000 Euros into it. This was more than twice the amount owed by The North Clan. Now he could vanish with honor.

He put in the order to accept the largest offer on the house and have the money put directly into the new account, as he would not be returning here, regardless of tomorrow's outcome. It was just too dangerous to stay any longer; this situation was becoming a ticking time bomb. All it would take was Stanton's killer looking in on any of his assets or interests, including implant activity, to find out if he was in the clear, and Thor would be hunted. It was very likely that he was already.

He decided to make himself scarce for the remainder of the night... an excellent time to pay the orphans and widows of Hell's Ditch a visit they would never forget. He figured he would undoubtedly need some money when his little nap was over, but 47 million? Come on! He couldn't even wrap his mind around that kind of money, but he knew he could change a lot of lives forever and still not even put a dent in what he needed to get by for the rest of his life. He put Stanton's pistol in his pants, stuffed his clothes and his new computer into a large, expedition style backpack he found in Stanton's closet, then headed out the door, pausing briefly to look back one last time at a life that might have been.

Upon his arrival at CryoKinetics, Inc., he was immediately greeted by security in the form of plain clothed, smiling, over-polite agents whose job, in addition to welcoming you, opening your doors for you, and generally kissing your wealthy buttocks, was to sniff out, before you reached the front door, anyone who wasn't here to seriously inquire about their services for personal usage. They also did not tolerate any outside inquiry as to the identity of any of their clients.

Being the subject of much controversy, they were constantly being subjected to reporters and legitimate investigators trying to infiltrate the operation posing as potential clients. Upon entering into one of their packages, you simply ceased to exist to the outside world. For the right add-on price, one could even purchase the option to have a staged death; complete with legal certification, obituaries, even funeral arrangements. The options were as vast as a client's list of reasons to do this in the first place.

Though there were plenty of rich, fat old men and women signing up in order to roll the dice again in the hope that the world would be better in the near future, there were a growing number of new clients who were doing this based almost solely on influence from the fear-based advertisement they liked to air immediately after any kind of terrorist attack, or nuclear accident hit the news. The extremely wealthy were very easy to scare in this regard, because these were almost the only scenarios that no amount of money could buy your way out of.

The other large group were those afflicted with terminal disease. This was primarily a last ditch effort by them, hoping that medical technology would surpass their condition, and they would come out of suspended animation to find that the disease was now treatable.

The one common bond? They were all dirty, rotten, filthy-stinkin' rich! If you had to ask the price, you couldn't afford it. In fact, the second screening on the way in, in the guise of a security booth, was a banking terminal. Potential clients were screened for total net worth before any real time was even invested in speaking to them.

Thor set down his pack before walking into the booth and nodded at the guard. "I would like an inventory slip for that, sir..." Thor stated politely.

"Absolutely, Mr...." he paused, waiting for Thor's reply.

"Stanton."

"Mr. Stanton, very well, Mr. Stanton, do you have any weapons or hazardous materials to declare?" he asked, typing things into his computer terminal.

"Yes, sir, I do. I don't go anywhere without my guns," he gestured toward the backpack leaning on the table leg by the guard "you want 'em up here?"

"Just lay the whole thing right here, please." the guard said sternly, pointing to the conveyor belt in front of him that led to a large airport-style X-ray box. He finished typing a few more things, then printed up a receipt and handed it to Thor. "Here's your claim slip, we'll keep it locked up safe until you leave." he added with a smile and a nod. Another man was already approaching him from the left.

"Mr. Stanton, please enter your financial information as prompted." he said, waving his arm politely, palm up, toward the banking terminal. He smiled and stood patiently with his other arm bent behind his back as Thor proceeded into the booth. He exposed the chip as he approached the screen, and just like in the mall, a voice spoke directly to him without making an audible sound. "Welcome to World Bank, CryoKinetics branch. Please sign on the screen to authorize CryoKinetics, Inc. to view your balance in order to proceed."

They had been sizing him up since he stepped out of the cab. With the myriad of programs available, he figured it was just their way of finding out just how much you had to work with before they invested any time in you, due mainly to the wide price range for their services. He also figured they were greedy assholes who would pitch you the absolute highest priced package once they had that information. He figured right. The man's expression changed dramatically after he left the terminal, and it was painfully obvious they were prepared to kiss about 40 million Euros worth of ass. The man held out his hand, and Thor reached out and shook it firmly, looking the man right in the eyes. "Hi, my name is Dr. Frederick Casey." the man stated, "I'm one of the founding members and Senior Cryophysicists onboard. I will be guiding you through the process and assisting you in the selection and safe implementation of the Suspended Animation package that best suits your needs... First off, Mr. Stanton, could you please tell me your age...?"

"Twenty-five." Thor said somberly. The man's eyes widened, as if he was having trouble believing it, but also having trouble thinking of something to say to challenge it. "It's not the years, it's the mileage." Thor joked, beating him to the punch.

"Very good. Well, you appear to be in better shape than most of our clients, but if you choose to do this, you will need to undergo a physical examination prior to suspension." he added.

"You mean 'Cryogenic Re-animation?'" Thor asked.

"No. Same concept, different magnitude... The use of cold temperatures is used in conjunction with a type of plasma transfusion to produce a state of near suspended animation. There is no way to bring someone back after cryogenic freezing. That's just science fiction... we only use it to preserve tissue for transplant, like in the case of cadavers in storage for future thaw and use. Unfortunately, freezing the brain still amounts to irreversible death. We simply take things down a few notches so the effects of aging, muscle atrophy, etc., even over hundreds of years, are negligible. It's basically no more complicated than a bear hibernating through the winter."

"A bear doesn't get a plasma transfusion..." Thor joked.

"You haven't spent the last 6 months hoarding nutrients in your body... Besides, you're going under for a little longer than a winter, I'd imagine." he answered with a teacher's grin and a pat on the shoulder. The man started walking toward a set of double doors, waving Thor to follow. "Come with me."

This guy's good, Thor thought, already feeling a little bit more relaxed about the whole thing. They walked through the lab where most of the new research was still being done. Summing him up fairly accurately, the Dr. opted to give Thor the "No Bullshit" approach to marketing. He was right to do so, but Thor still had to make a concerted effort not to reveal the fact that he really had no choice, it was just a matter of which program to choose and for how long.

Dr. Casey broke it all down. After insuring that Thor was comfortable with the procedure, he went on to explain how the clients would be cared for oblivious to the transgressions of man. Nuclear War could erupt, and so long as there was something to come back to, they would survive it. This would be possible because the Cryo-tubes, as they called them, the life-support capsules that housed the clients, were not being stored on the Earth!

They existed, untouched, nay, untouchable, by the rest of the population, suspended not only in time, but in space, orbiting the Earth in a giant, armored, and thoroughly EMP shielded satellite capable of holding life support air and temperatures at this augmented level for nearly a millennium before requiring any kind of refueling or recharging. Fully automated and unmanned, it was the single most expensive piece of hardware ever assembled by mankind, and once a month, it got larger. It was predicted around the lab that at the rate they were signing up, it wouldn't be long before most of the population was on board and the thing would be so huge it would actually be visible in the night sky and eventually affect our tides, magnetically, like having another moon.

"Why not just build this on the moon?" Thor asked, obviously intrigued by the whole thing, but still a little skeptical… after all, this process seemed to erupt out of nowhere, and hadn't been implemented long enough to speak to any of the "satisfied customers." The oldest customers are still sleeping! There was only speculation and logic to rely on in order to make an educated judgment about it.

"That's a very good question, Mr. Stanton..." he paused, "If something was to happen on Earth, and there was nobody here to guide you back, leaving the moon would require a take-off, with a large fuel burn and real-time trajectory input in order to get home. All that would be needed to fall from orbit is a slight nudge, and then sit back and watch the orbit decay. The individual tubes were outfitted already to handle the heat and impact of re-entry, as well as support life for a time in the event that there was nothing to come home to, but also contained homing beacons to triangulate their position in case things were still civilized. Every possible event that could be imagined had been factored into their design and built in as a safeguard."

"So it would seem." Thor was definitely intrigued by the whole thing, yet there was something this man was hiding... "I'm ready! I just have one question, Doc, and I want you to be totally honest with me... Otherwise I walk."

"Certainly... anything."

"Have you ever lost anyone?" Thor asked, looking him directly in the eyes.

Dr. Casey took a deep breath, hopefully not preparing a politician's answer, Thor thought. "When we first started this, about three years ago, we were filling in the last part of the first ring on the satellite with a shuttle full of clients, when we experienced some kind of magnetic interference. As the new clients were being assembled into the housing structure, which is the giant, revolving ring surrounding the satellite, used to simulate gravity by using centrifugal force, something went horribly wrong. The new tubes didn't attach magnetically after they were locked in place around the ring, due to some sort of bizarre interference, probably a solar flare or something, the lock-down failed. No one had any idea that anything was wrong until it was too late. The installation was believed to be complete, so the ring rotation was restored. As it picked up speed, the problem became apparent and the order to abort was issued, but it was too late. The centrifugal force had risen past the level manageable by the docking locks on the tubes alone, and almost all at once, they started breaking off and flailing in random directions into space. The shuttle only had enough fuel to retrieve 5... 5 people out of 40!!! The other 35 are still flying through space, frozen solid. It was the worst day in CryoKinetics history... 35 lives lost, and years of research and development nearly wasted over a freak occurrence!"

"Nearly? How the hell is it they didn't bankrupt you in court? The families of the victims, I mean." Thor asked.

"Well, Mr. Krey, is it? As you well know, discretion is the better part of valor... There are times in life where the greater good can be best served without the eyes of the world upon you. Wouldn't you say?" the doctor smiled, offering a handshake. Aaaah, the politician's answer... Thor paused for just a second, unsure how the good doctor knew his real name, then burst into laughter, grabbing his hand firmly while looking him in the eyes.

"Yes, I would, Doc, yes I would. Thank you for your honesty."

"And you for yours..." Dr. Casey replied, walking him toward another door. When they reached it, he gestured for Thor to enter without him. "We do everything we do around here under the strictest code of anonymity. No one will ever know you walked through this door unless you told them, and even if you did, they'll be dead and buried long before you wake..." he laughed. The sign on the door read 'PROCESSING.' He nodded at the doctor and started to walk through. "By the way, those 35... None of them had families to speak of..." he said as they parted. "And they all signed on for a century... Vaya Con Dios, Mr. Stanton!"

"You too, my friend... I'll say hi to your great granddaughter for you" he joked as he walked into the processing room. As the door shut behind him, he could hear Dr. Casey greeting some more prospective clients.

This room was basically little more than a lobby with an interviewing booth and a waiting area, but the decor was something to behold. The entire room, floor to ceiling, was designed to look as futuristic as possible. On all planes, walls included, there was first a layer of translucent composite, softer than glass, defining the inner shape. Then there was an offset of about 9 inches between this layer, and a semi-mirrored backer plate, creating an air gap between the two planes that left the illusion that you were suspended in the air, just above the floor, and that all the wall hangings and decorations were hovering in midair, just off of the walls.

The gaps for the ceiling and walls were filled with some kind of smoke with can lights recessed behind it, lighting up all the swirls caused by natural convection, as well as vibration from ambient sound waves in the room. The floor, which was also illuminated, was filled, not with smoke, but with water, also vibrating light designs onto the walls and ceiling from the footsteps being made. There were chairs along two of the walls, suspended above the floor and attached blindly to the wall; about another 9 inches out, leaving the illusion that they were floating.

The light seemed to come from everywhere, and was set at a very relaxing level, but was bright enough to do business. Three prospective clients sat in chairs, while a fourth was behind the booth, being interviewed. There was a soft, relaxing, yet warmly complicated musical composition streaming from a phenomenal, 3D surround sound system. It was just loud enough to drown out the voices in the booth, but not overbearing.

Spanning the short, translucent partition wall adjacent to the reception desk was a large motif, elaborately airbrushed onto a post-modern, 3D relief of itself, depicting a shamelessly utopian version of the metropolis they now lived in. It was clearly lacking all the obvious problems of today, and was infinitely more advanced. Thor smiled, admiring the artwork more than the marketing savvy or clearly overoptimistic outlook.

Behind him and to his right, Thor could feel eyes on him. It was a young couple, maybe in their 30's, and the energy they were throwing off was repulsive. The man was busy being judgmental, pompous and simultaneously jealous of Thor, while his wife sat terrified, not receiving the positive reinforcement she obviously needed to make a decision this big on her own, and bickering at him under her breath without coming up for air. He had no use for this kind of Co-dependent, high maintenance garbage in even his loosest circles, and there was no way, suspended or not, that he was going to spend the next 100 years anywhere near these idiots....

"Hi, my name is James." Thor said, turning toward the man and offering his hand, "I'm an undercover investigator for the NSA. What have you guys heard about the proliferation of company stock value without adequate reinvestment in the security of the investors, or the acceptable survival rate of the clients? That would be you, on both counts..." he said, pointing at both of them. "Nevermind…. How about the recent shuttle disaster that left all 100 of its clients floating through space in their frozen caskets?" He looked frighteningly hard into the woman's eyes during the last question. "Nothing? Not surprising." He exhaled loudly and turned away from them, trying to act angry.

"Come on, honey." The man whispered, losing the battle with his tough-guy charade. She got up so fast she knocked the paperwork from his hand, sending it sprawling across the floor. Thor bent down to assist. "That's q-quite alright, sir. I've g-got it..." he stuttered, grabbing everything in one messy pile and bolting for the door with his wife and almost running into her as she turned to look back at the interviewing booth. The door slowly eased shut with a click.

Thor looked slowly over at the man in the end seat, smiling. The man looked at him for just a moment, then burst into laughter. Thor cracked up as well, finally unable to keep up the act. "Thank you!" the man interjected, still laughing uncontrollably. "NSA... fuck me!!" Thor relaxed a bit, finally taking a seat, and waited for his turn to speak to the organizer, who was just wrapping it up with a man in his late 60's, well dressed, well spoken, but very obviously racked with some kind of degenerative bone or muscle disease, as he could barely stand, even on crutches. The man who was here before Thor, probably in his 50's, bounced by him with the vigor of a teenager. On his way by Thor, he offered up a "high-five," which Thor proudly took, still smiling about the other two. "Fuckin' NSA..." he mumbled, smiling back.

"Hello, welcome to CryoKinetics... " the young woman said softly to the man, "Where are the two that came before you?" she asked.

"Oh, they had second thoughts, anyway, I'm Kieran McGinn," he said in a thick Irish brogue. "I believe it was you I spoke to on the phone.... " They walked off toward the back and into the booth. Thor couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something very familiar about this man. For now, he considered that to be a good omen.

He sat in his chair, breathing deep and slowly slipping from a state of meditation to one of aimless daydream, something he had been conditioned not to do, but given the circumstances, it seemed almost unavoidable. He already knew he wanted to go under for one century. Given the rate of world change, and the momentum that rate seemed to be gaining, anything more would be an absolute crap-shoot. Even that 100 might only serve to blind their eyes to their own demise, but at least there was hope, something not on the spreadsheets for those alive now.

It was strange to be anxious and in a hurry to be nearly frozen for 100 years, but to them, this time was said to pass nearly instantaneously, like an almost dreamless night. One minute, you're here, and the next.... They would be asleep before they left the Earth, and asleep til they got back. Lacking the manned facilities at the station, it was currently safer to bring them out of their slumber back here. Ain't that a bitch! Thor thought, I finally get to go into space, and I'm going to be asleep the entire time! Aside from what they could expect as far as assistance from the company upon awakening, about the only thing to discuss was payment.

Two more people came in the door just as the lady was wrapping it up with Mr. McGinn, so Thor stood up, stretched, and started walking toward the counter. "Hi! Welcome to CryoKinetics, Mr...?" she prompted, offering Thor her hand.

He shook it firmly, locking eyes with her, before replying, "Stanton, James Stanton." He almost lost it again. Trying hard to keep a straight face, he vowed that when he awoke, the first thing he was going to do was change his name back legally! The inside of the booth was actually another banking terminal, set up for immediate processing of payment. She explained that given one hour from payment till the point of no return, people had a tendency to take their decision making a little more seriously. In the past, too many people left the facility, and never came back for their scheduled departure, then, despite signing a contract, would still expect a refund, due to the exceptionally large amounts they dealt with. One hour. No more, no less.

It was also just as important to have time to be at ease with your decision, so as not to be in a polluted state of panic when the procedure starts. In the end, he was surprised to find that the whole thing would only drain half his account... he had assumed they would try to find a way to embezzle it all. Oh well, he thought, the day is still young. He didn't really expect to wake up and find that he was still in control of the rest, given the fragile state of the economy, nor did he really care, given the manner in which he came to possess it. His only real regret is that he wouldn't have time to set anyone worthy up with more of it, but the faces he brightened last night in Hell’s Ditch with the chunk he spent already would be in his mind for 100 years.

He spent the next hour in the waiting room, off in his own corner, in seiza; eyes locked a million miles away in deep meditation. Deep breath in the nose, with his tongue on the roof of his mouth, strong breath out the mouth, exhaling all the bad energies he had been packing around. He had no intention, whatever the future held, of bringing a load of hitch-hiking negativity with him. His mind had to be clear and his spirit centered. He did not move for the rest of the wait.

He sprang up out of seiza and onto both feet, simultaneously, then walked over to the door, the others in the room looking at him curiously. A moment later, the door opened and two doctors stood there, waving at everyone to follow. They walked down a long hallway with doors on both sides until they reached a large double door at the end. On the other side was a large lab, with rows of high tech looking beds down each side, 40 in all. The last 8 were dressed out with sheets, wires with electrodes, an I.V. tree & tubes, and each had a high tech diagnostic and monitoring machine and computer next to it, and a short curtain, offering a small degree of privacy.

On the wall, at the foot of each bed, was a sphincter style airlock, undoubtedly where the patients were fed into the tubes. Thor, being about as claustrophobic as they come, had one thing on his mind after seeing this. "Are we asleep before, or after, we get put into those?" he asked, pointing at the airlock closest to him.

"Before... and you'll be out before you wake, trust me." one of the doctors spoke up, gesturing for Thor to grab that bed. The other four patients were escorted to stations of their own.

Trust me... I fucking hate it when people say that... he heard Kait's voice say in his head.

"I know, right?" he said out loud.

"Excuse me?" the doctor said, puzzled.

"Oh, nothing! Just talking to myself."

"Allright! At least you'll be able to keep yourself company!" the doctor joked.

"Yeah, I think they charged me double, though." Thor joked, getting a few laughs from the other patients. "Maybe I should've asked about group rates...." They laughed again, a little harder.

"We have a comedian in our midst,” one of the female doctors spoke up.

Thor took a sarcastic bow, "Yep, I'll be performing right here for the next 100 years...."

"At least you'll have steady work, right?" McGinn chimed in.

"To be sure, to be sure," Thor smiled.

"Somebody hurry the fuck up and freeze me now," the old man said with a grin as he claimed a bed by tossing his jacket across it.

The doctors had them all tucked in, stripped down to their shorts, and wired for sound, with electrodes stuck all over their chests, forehead, and arms. They were all given an I.V. differing in color, probably due to length of suspension, body chemistry, etc.. All at once, Thor felt the rush of the initial medicine taking effect. It was definitely a euphoric of some kind, possibly Dilaudid or something similar, mixed with Valium, meant to take the edge off of acute pain and trauma. He smiled a big, cheesy grin at the doctor as she took his vitals again. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this good. He was just about to ask her what the drugs were for when she pulled two enormous needles out of her box of supplies and started hooking them up to tubes and to the machine. "Oh shit!" he laughed, unable to completely care what they were about to do. He started staring at the ceiling and then cracked up again.

"What?" she asked.

"What?" He jumped back to reality, noticing the softness in her eyes, the smoothness of her hair and skin, the warmth of her touch as she felt his forehead and arms.

"You're cold." she said.

"You're sexy!" Thor slurred, unable to focus completely. She smiled, then pulled out the first of the large needles, sliding into his left arm. He winced, remembering now that they said something about a plasma transfusion.... Shit, that hurt. She came around the other side with the other one.

"How about something sexy for this side, too." she said sarcastically. He flinched again, but laughed a little inside as he heard the moans and groans of several of the other clients who didn't have anywhere near the threshold for pain that he did.

"Symmetry is... symmetry... was... sexy... is..." He suddenly realized he was going cross-eyed and seeing double. He could still understand what he was hearing, but couldn't speak clearly. He heard the door open again, and then the familiar jingle and hard-step of Doctor Casey. "Doc!" he called out with his eyes nearly closed. At least he thought he said it out loud...

The doctor walked slowly around the room, checking out the status of each of the clients, then started giving what sounded like a very well-rehearsed speech, assuring each of them that they were doing the right thing for their given situations... How they would go down in history as partners in this "never before tried" pinnacle of modern science, pioneers of the future, like Lewis & Clark, bravely charging forward to the next frontier... freed from the confines of conventional living... Thor faded off in mid speech, most likely the doctors’ true intention, but to the sound of his own music, echoing in his head.

Cast aside what you'd like to see,

and you'll suffocate in your apathy

And I'd like to show you what the difference is

between the one who survives, and the one who lives

They say "Fate condemns the undetermined mind," no,

Fate can KISS MY ASS this time!

He faded out of consciousness to the same dream he has had, off and on, since he was a small child... It was chilly and the sky was grey and darkening. He was standing on a hillside devoid of most plant life, save for a short tundra covering on the ground with the occasional small flower or patch of weeds. Basketball sized rocks scattered here and there broke the monotony of the landscape, which seemed to roll on into the distance, unchanged, but for some reason he could not focus on the horizon.

Suddenly a loud squawk sounded high above him and he turned his head to see what it was. The majestic bird, probably a bald eagle, flew right overhead, gliding smoothly on its tremendous wingspan, and headed out over the crest of a nearby hill. He quickly followed. Upon clearing the hilltop, he could see a small house, a single story log cabin standing alone in this barren diorama. He started walking up the hill toward it.

Almost as if being yanked off his feet by a giant rubber band, he was jolted straight up the hill, stopping abruptly at the front door of the cabin. The dream always ended before he got this far, but this time the door was cracked open a bit, and the house was obviously abandoned, so he entered. The house was cold and dark, but enough light made it in to see around. Everything inside was either rustic wood and brass, patina’d almost black with age, or glass, some panes broken, some not.

A few steps down the dark hallway toward the living room and kitchen, he became aware of a huge wolf behind him, coming out of one of the back bedrooms. It was black and stood chest high to him at the shoulders. Its head was slightly down and it kept its distance, but continued to follow him. For some reason, he did not fear it, but rather, made a calm decision to avoid it and find another way out of the house.

He took a left turn at the end of the hallway into the kitchen, and the wolf went right, into the living room, but kept a constant eye on him, as if not wanting him to leave. He could see its head through the interior windows and over the living room knee wall, here and there, always looking at him. He started looking around for a weapon, just in case.

The kitchen looked fairly run down and empty, but clean. There were some old supplies: oil lamps, pots, pans, old coffee cups, etc., but no knives or silverware. There was a window over the sink and one open on the top half of a Dutch door that looked like it hadn't been opened for a while. He turned back to see the wolf enter the room slowly, baring its teeth. For some reason he was still not afraid, and the wolf's teeth began to fall out onto the floor, bouncing around and falling into cracks in the hardwood until he couldn't see them at all. When he looked back up, the wolf was gone.

He heard a noise behind him and spun around to see a giant bald eagle sitting on the ledge of the open window. It suddenly flew off and he ran to catch up, getting stuck on the door for a moment. He broke free of the house and ran to catch up with the bird, now flying straight out over the tundra, but he couldn't make progress. No matter how hard he ran, time just seemed to go slower. It continued slowing as his field of vision narrowed smaller and smaller, then faded to blackness and silence....

©2010 Steven G. Curry, All Rights Reserved