Perchance To Dream (7)

( This is the seventh and final installment of a story which begins here. )

Chapter 7: Do You Dream When You Die?

"What in the hell?" Herbie sat upright in his knapsack. His cell phone was ringing, but it wasn't the normal ring tone he had been using. He glanced at the screen and saw that someone had sent him a text message.
....He read the few lines of text and saved it. Moving to the edge of the roof, he let his eyes follow the path of the road leading to the waterfront warehouse. No one could approach the structure without him first seeing them.
....He rubbed his palms together and sneered. "They will be here soon. After all these years all of us will finally be in same place at the same time. I've been planning this little get together for a long time. It ends here - tonight."

Rhonda scanned the text message and saved it. She nodded to Mae Lee who had been mimicking her actions. "It is done. It's time to keep our appointment," she said calmly.
...."I sure hope he's right." Mae Lee said, "If this doesn't work..."
...."Hush! It will. I'm sure of it," Rhonda winked. "Remember, there's safety in numbers."
....They began to walk once again. They hurried to their car parked around the corner.

He laughed as he saved the message. "So, they thought they could trap me, did they? They aren't as smart as they think."
....He'd expected them to use an alternate pre-programmed frequency. Anticipating such a plan, he'd kept his phone open to Rhonda's phone. Anything sent to her phone would result in the simultaneous transmission to his. He mused a moment and realized that they would probably be able to track the use of his phone also. It turned out he hadn't given them enough credit after all.
....Returning the cell phone to his pocket, he turned his attention to the women. Grabbing the briefcase he climbed out of his car and hurried across the street after them. He was undaunted by the sudden rain that began to fall.
....They had just reached the car when they heard footsteps rushing in their direction. Frozen, Mae Lee was struck by the man's first shot. She fell in a heap onto the sidewalk.
...."Mae Lee!" Rhonda cried out. A second shot rung out and she felt the air shattered near her ear as the bullet passed by. She turned and began to run toward any alley not ten yards away.
....He paused a moment and regarded the fallen figure before him. He nudged the body with his foot. There was no movement. His face was grim, for until that moment he'd managed to keep his hands clean. In his mind he thought he could hear "Eye Of The Tiger." He suddenly felt an adrenalin rush from his first hands on kill.
....He set the briefcase down next to the body and said, "Mind keeping an eye on this for me, honey?" Laughing aloud he ran to the entrance of the alley.
....The rain had increased in intensity making visibility difficult at best. Rhonda had hidden behind a row of trash cans. The tears streaming down her cheeks were discernible in the deluge of driven rain. A chill had run up her spine when she'd heard his malicious laughing. That he was now stalking her could only mean one thing, that Mae Lee was dead.
....A sudden gust of wind toppled the barricade of trash receptacles onto her. The clamor of aluminum cans and their lids caught his attention. He moved furtively in the direction of the noise. He grinned in satisfaction as he made out the facade of a building. The woman had run into a blind alley. There was only one way out.

Herbie had been sprinting in the direction of the gun shot for several minutes. None of them had made it to the warehouse. Something had gone wrong. He estimated that he had to be about six blocks away from where the shot had originated. He prayed he was in time.

"Damn!" Milton moaned. He cursed the rain as he ran as fast as his feet and legs could carry him. The sudden weather front must have been affecting the signal. His only hope was that the closer he got to where the shot had been fired, the program could be activated.
....He could only assume that they had received his text message to switch their phones to speaker mode, and under no circumstances were they to answer their phones! He had nothing to go on but faith that they would believe his warning that their stalker was none other than Rheinberg.

Herbie knew the last part of the message was a lie. Other than he, none of them knew that Rheinberg was dead, except for his killer. There was a reason that they were instructed to switch to speaker. He was going to transmit a message to cloud their minds. He had no way to warn them. What was Milton up to?

She hated Shakespeare! Why was that damned soliloquy popping up in her mind? She felt a sudden tingling coursing through her body. There were voices, many voices calling out to her. It was as if they were lying next to her in the rising water of the alley. No, not next to her, but within her head. Their thoughts and his were merging with her own thoughts.
....They were next to her! They were crawling over her legs. Rats! Tears in her eyes, she fought the screams welling in her throat.
....Before her everything was shimmering. An image seemed to be projecting from somewhere beyond into her mind. She was naked upon a stone altar, a living sacrifice to the stalking great cats. The leaping fish ...The floating gun ... All so familiar.
....The realization brought to her a sense of new found-hope. The image, the picture was a painting prominently displayed in Dr. Rheinberg's office. The hope faded as quickly as it had entered her mind, replaced with more frightening images.
....She was naked upon a desk, that painting on the wall behind him. Ten years ago the face hovering above her had belonged to Milton. It wasn't Milton who'd been thrusting himself into her. Her subconscious mind was purging itself, removing the veils that Dream Lover had painted in her mind. Rheinberg had been raping her and probably Mae Lee too. It angered her to wonder how many times the son of a bitch may have been violating their minds and bodies.
....Suddenly, she saw herself in a surreal dreamlike image, not from her own senses, but as a projected and shared thought from another. She had been found. Then, as if from the perspective of the onlooker, the barrel of a pistol appeared. It was aimed at her prone body. She could feel the pressure on the trigger in her own fingers.

Herbie could see Milton a few yards ahead of him. In the driving rain he somehow found renewed stamina to run even faster. He caught up to him at the entrance to the alley. Just before he could grab onto him he saw that he had pressed something in his hand.
....Herbie dropped to his knees succumbing to a high pitched scream of hypersonic waves of energy particles. He lay writhing cupping his ears to no avail. So intense the pain he didn't feel the killing blow that crushed his skull.
....On the lam from Federal drug charges, it had been easy enough to "convince" Herbert that he was in fact a secret agent. His perceived mission had been to stop a covert operation designed to overthrow the government. He almost felt sorry for the man.

Even as she fought the pain in her head caused by the intense frequency, she felt compelled to watch the flight of the bullet. She was mesmerized, watching in fascination as it seemed to move in slow motion at her. She was able to watch it appear to grow larger as it drew near. She had but a trice to feel the projectile tear into her forehead.

The shooter had squeezed the trigger at the same instant that his brain felt like it was on fire. He collapsed face first into the rising water next to Rhonda's body. The blood pouring from his ears, the result of a massive aneurysm, mixed with that of the woman and turned the water into a crimson pool.

Milton shut off the power to the PDA. He walked over to the car and picked up the briefcase. He looked over to see Mae Lee sitting against the car, a broad smile on her face. He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet.
...."I see you followed my message to turn your phone off," he said to her.
....She threw her arms around his shoulders and planted a kiss upon his cheek. She backed away and looked up at him, "What took you so long?"
...."This damned rain was interfering with the signal. It took me a while to run here. What can I say? I'm out of shape."
....She pointed to the stalker's body. "Say, who was he anyway?"
...."Who was he? My lawyer," he replied. "When he found out about Dream Lover and its potential, he got greedy. He wanted it all."
...."You're so clever. You played him. You let him think he was in control of the situation?"
....Milton nodded, "Yep! In the end he made things a lot easier than I had planned."
....Giggling she opened her blouse and cupped her breasts. "What do think of these babies, honey?"
....His PDA began to vibrate. He grinned as he read the brief message from his partner.

Mission accomplished. Fifty/fifty? - Milton Sinclair

....He help up the PDA and pressed a key, "Nice! But they aren't yours."
....Before her eyes Milton's face shimmered and morphed into that of her boyfriend, Jimmy. He watched bemused as the same shimmering effect transformed Mae Lee's face to her true one. "It's so good to see you again, my beautiful Misty."
....As they kissed long and hard he thought only briefly of the real Mae Lee. It was ironic that just like Misty, she too had been deathly afraid of snakes.
....He bent to pick up the briefcase. "There's five hundred grand in here, what do you say we go buy you that boob job?"
...."You mean it? You really mean it, Jimmy?"
...."Sure," he grinned. "Then we're going to one of those islands and sip on some of those drinks with the funny little umbrellas."
....She looked around at the three bodies. A serious look on her face she asked, "Do you dream when you die?"
....He extended his arm and they walked away from the alley. He answered her question only to himself, "Who knows? Maybe you'll find out sooner than you think."

Smiling, he patted the PDA in his pocket and then Rheinberg thought, "So what if she thinks I'm Jimmy?"

"To die, to sleep; to sleep! Perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub."

No.863

Perchance To Dream (6)

( This is the sixth installment of a story which begins here.)

Chapter 6: The Dreams That Stuff Is Made Of

The man at the bakery had told him that there wasn't much left of the charred body they'd taken away in the ambulance. Herbie looked up at what remained of the still smoldering apartment. The tragedy had been attributed to a natural gas explosion.
....A tear formed in the corner of his eyes. Dr. Rheinberg had been a father figure to him. He swallowed hard the sob that had been surging within his throat. He had let the doctor down. He'd betrayed his trust. He'd even reneged on the vow that they'd all taken so long ago.
....Once he and the others met on the roof of that warehouse, he was going to remove a terrible burden from his shoulders. He was going to come clean. He had to! He dreaded facing them all. A warm glow came to his heart as he visualized Mae Lee's face in his thoughts. He didn't wish to hurt her.
....Then there was Milton. Would he be so willing as he for their dark secret to be revealed? Both Rhonda and Mae Lee were going to be hurt, for they were unwitting victims of his and Milton's misguided improprieties. There were going to be huge rifts and strains placed upon their friendships that day.
....He sighed heavily and walked away. He would take his backpack and camp out on the roof and wait for the others to arrive.

Milton looked out of the window as they pulled into the rest stop. The bad thing about travelling by bus was all the stops along the way. It was a minor nuisance though. He had opted to take a bus to afford him the time to think. Soul searching would have been too taxing if he had to also concentrate on operating a vehicle on unfamiliar roads. Besides, it kept his hands free to run a series of programs he had written years before.
....The fact that he was now accessing those files meant that Dr. Rheinberg's fears had come to fruition. Dream Lover was in fact in the wrong hands. Rheinberg knew it, hence the e-mail he had sent him and the others.
....The others, who like him were certainly in transit to the rendezvous point, must have also realized that a crisis was at hand. All of them were in possible mortal danger. If someone else was in possession of Dream Lover, it would follow that that someone knew all about them. That someone, whomever it was, would not want to share the power of Dream Lover. They were expendable.
....He produced a state-of-the-art PDA and connected it to the computer. He pressed the 'enter' key and started the transfer of data.

"Rhonda," Mae Lee said, "When we meet up with the guys, are you planning to bring up our little clandestine experiment?"
...."We have to, don't you think?" she replied.
...."Yes, I suppose we must. I'm just not sure I can face them. Won't you be embarrassed?"
....Rhonda looked into her friend's eyes and said sternly, "After what has happened to us? You in the baggage claim area? Me in the conference room? Not to mention what happened in that hotel bed! Embarrassed, Mae Lee? I should think we would be invulnerable to embarrassment."
....Mae Lee hung her head, "I don't think I am as strong as you, Rhonda."
...."Did it ever occur to you, Mae Lee, that the boys might have conducted a similar experiment of their own?"
...."What?" she exclaimed in horror. "They wouldn't have! That would be like .. rape!"
...."Yes, mind rape. You're exercising a double standard, aren't you? What's good for the goose isn't good for the gander?"
...."Well, when you put it that way ... You're right, of course."
...."If you and I came up with the idea, isn't quite possible they did also? Don't you think they must have weighed the morality of their actions just as you and I did that night so long ago?"
...."True. I guess I wasn't giving them enough credit to place scientific pursuits ahead of their libidos." She looked up at Rhonda and added, "I have to admit that it was a rewarding experiment."
....A knowing smile appeared on Rhonda's face. "Yes, very rewarding."

His "to-do" list was growing shorter. He drew a line through the last completed task, the stripper. He held up the list and read the numbered items one by one.

1. cop from the bar
2. Smith, the porno man
3. Rheinberg
4. Misty the stripper
5. Jimmy, Misty's boyfriend
6. Herbert Jennings
7. Milton Sinclair
8. Rhonda Fisher
9. Mae Lee Tan

Ah yes, he thought, the cop he'd met in that tavern was the contact that had led him to the discovery of the possible location of Dream Lover. That cop had been only too cooperative to retrieve the report the stripper and her boyfriend had given in exchange for a C-note. It was most unfortunate that he would happen to walk into the path of a semi only moments after handing him the report.
....There were only four 'items' left on his list, the students themselves. Once they were eliminated, he'd be the sole person alive with any knowledge of Dream Lover or of its existence. He's was on the verge of becoming a very filthy rich and very powerful lawyer. There could not be anyone left alive who might get in his way.
....He patted the cell phone in his breast pocket. He could scratch the broads off the list as sure as he was sitting there in sight of their hotel. Later, he thought, later. He needed them at present. He didn't know when or where, but they would be meeting the two men soon. All that would be left to do would be to follow the girls. They would lead him to them.

The upload completed, Milton disconnected the PDA from the laptop. He typed in a set of instructions followed by the command to transmit.
....He let his mind wander back to the last time he and Dr. Rheinberg had met, scarcely six months earlier. The doctor had gotten himself into trouble and had called him for help. Funny, Milton thought, but he'd never imagined his mentor being obsessed with a woman.
....He was shamed, but he told Milton the whole story. He'd begun a habit of stopping into a strip club for a couple of drinks and a little escapism after work. He'd become infatuated with a stripper who used the stage name Misty. After he'd become a regular customer, he had gotten to know the girl. Not being the man-of-the-world type, Rheinberg had misinterpreted that part of the woman's job to coerce the male customers to spend their money buying the dancers drinks.
....The woman, of course, had rejected his advances. Then one night, his persistence in spite of her protests had led to a confrontation with a bouncer. He was thrown out of the place and ordered to never return. As it turned out, the bouncer was the girl's boyfriend.
....Banned from the club, the doctor had become desperate. He began to stalk her until he'd learned her address. It was an easy matter to obtain her telephone number. He was chagrined to learn that the two lived together. Not wanting to risk contact with the bouncer, Rheinberg had at that point lost all sense of discretion. He activated Dream Lover with the intention of projecting his mind into the mind of the boyfriend.
....He'd reasoned that if he couldn't have sex with Misty himself, then he would see, hear and feel what the man experienced. The sensations had been so realistic that he'd felt like it was he who'd been having sex with the woman. Not only had he become erect, but he had ejaculated at the same instant the man had.
....Then one night something went wrong. It was something they had never anticipated when they were working on the project. Instead of picking up the phone, one of them had switched the call to speaker. Rheinberg's mind had been transferred into both the minds of the woman and the man in the same instant. There was severe pain in his head as two sets of thoughts mingled with his own. He had then immediately broken the connection.
....As it turned out, there had been some lasting after effects. Lingering thoughts of the pair remained in his brain for several hours. He'd told Milton that he suspected that fragments of his thoughts may have been lodged in the minds of the couple also.
....A few days later he had been visited by a policeman who had informed him that the couple had filed a report at the police station that he'd been reading their minds, thus invading their privacy. The officer laughed at the ludicrous claims but had felt duty bound to inform him of the charges. He'd wanted to warn an upstanding college professor that someone might be harrassing him.
....That was when he had became certain that they'd picked up on his thoughts. They'd given the police his full name and address, information they could not have known.
....With his mentor's assistance they had hastily created a software application that would prevent in the future any occurences like the one that had nearly brought Dream Lover to unwanted public attention. Before he returned home, Milton had suggested that he take a long vacation just to get away and to forget.

....He liked to twist Sam Spade's words from his favorite movie, The Maltese Falcon, into some more to his liking, "The dreams that stuff is made of!"
....He tensed and touched the keys hanging from the ignition switch. The two women were leaving the hotel. The game had resumed.

To be continued... Conclusion

No.861

Perchance To Dream (5)

( This is the fifth installment of a story which begins here.)

Chapter 5: Dreams To Die For

Somehow Rhonda was able to gather herself to handle the task at hand. The title of her speech, "Dreams To Die For," had seemed innocent enough when she had written it, but in light of the recent events it now felt ominous somehow.
....She had seen Mae Lee enter the conference room. She had a worried look on her countenance as she took a seat near the front. From her perch at the dais, the two had made eye contact several times. Mae Lee had been visibly disturbed by the fact that they might have been making love to each other. She however, was more concerned with the fact that both of them had thought they were with a man.
....She sighed with relief when she turned to the last page of the outline of her speech. She paused a moment when she came to the quotation earmarked to close her speech. She was certain that Mae Lee would also be pondering the closing words.
...."In closing, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to mention a cartoon that I have framed in my office. I have it hanging next to my graduate degree. I'm sure that most of you are familiar with the comic strip, Calvin and the Hobbes."
....She smiled as there arose a murmur of assent from the audience. The significance of the strip was certainly not lost on Mae Lee. She tensed and sat upright, her eyes glued to Rhonda.
...."In this particular cartoon," she continued, "The little boy Calvin is lying in bed next to his friend, Hobbes the tiger. With his hands behind his head he is staring at the ceiling and says:

' I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can be together all the time.'

Thank you everyone and have a good evening."
....She turned and headed backstage. She knew that Mae Lee would be not far behind her. She was certain to say to her something like, 'There's the damned tiger again.'
....Her footsteps approaching from behind preceded Mae Lee's exclamation, "There's the damned tiger again!" She held out a small piece of paper to her. "I received this e-mail about an twenty minutes ago. I just printed it from one of the terminals in the lobby before you began to speak."
....Rhonda gasped as she read the coded message from Dr. Rheinberg. It looked like her and Mae Lee's conclusions were probably correct. Dream Lover was up and running.

He had been holed up in a small cabin in Kentucky when the e-mail reached him. He grimaced as he pored over the "entertainment list." It seemed that the warnings of Dr. Rheinberg had turned out to be quite prophetic.
....Although they had taken precautions, Fritz had somehow learned what he had been doing. His self-imposed exile to the remote hideaway had not disguised the fact that he'd been experimenting with Dream Lover again. Somewhere along the line he must have slipped up and not covered his tracks.
....He spread the map on the table before him and using a yellow highlight pen drew a line from his location north to Cincinnati. He estimated that it would take him about an hour and a half to drive there. He nodded with approval as he began to formulate a drastic change in his original plans.
....He opened the desk drawer and pulled out an envelope containing several fake IDs and driver's licenses. Flipping through them, he pulled out the ones identifying him as 'Herbert Jennings.'

Misty paced back and forth in the seedy hotel room. The place made her skin crawl. This was not the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. Stars lived in luxury - not in squalor.
....She stopped and stood before the full-length mirror. She opened her robe and cupped her small breasts. Frowning she pulled the robe over her body. Yes, she was a star all right - the featured attraction at an all-nude strip club! That's all she'd ever be with her small boobs.
....Then that undercover vice cop walked into the club twenty minutes ago. Her boy friend Jimmy had brought him to see her. He was investigating the police report they had filed several months before. Even though the case had been closed, the man said new evidence had surfaced.
....He spirited them out of the club and brought them to the hotel. He'd said the two of them were in grave danger. Misty wasn't even allowed to dress. The cop told her to throw a robe over her g-string, because there wasn't much time.
....The cop said that the man they'd mentioned in the report was an important man. He was important enough that he would gladly pay some big bucks, like maybe a hundred grand, for the whole incident to be forgotten.
....She locked the door as the cop had instructed. All she had to do was to wait until he and Jimmy returned with the money. She couldn't imagine that much money. A hundred grand! She was going to get the best looking boobs in the whole world!

His face was expressionless as he watched the stripper's boy friend walk down the deserted street carrying a baseball bat. He put the car into gear the moment Jimmy entered one of the most notorious projects in Cincinnati.
....He heard at least four or five shots ring out as he distanced himself from the vicinity. It would have to be one sick, stupid bastard to go marching around in that neighborhood proclaiming that he was taking over. Well, that sick man had just developed a terminal case of dead. He returned the cell phone to his breast pocket.
....A smug smile etched his mouth. His performance as a vice cop had gone rather well. He'd pulled it off without a hitch. Of course, the dim-witted boy friend's only brains were behind his zipper. What about the bimbo? She was a nugget or two short of a Happy Meal. All she wanted was money and a bigger set of knockers. He was going to see that she got all that was coming to her.
....He pulled up to the curb opposite the hotel. He closed his eyes to evoke memory of the notes he taken regarding the stripper. Ah yes, it seemed that she had turned down a considerable raise when the club manager had suggested she use a boa constricter in her act. The girl was deathly afraid of snakes.
....He punched in a phone number on the keyboard of his cell phone. He wondered how she would react to a roomful of snakes? There was only one way to find out. She wanted a hundred grand, eh? He'd give her a hundred grand worth of snakes.
....The papers the next day would feature a story about an exotic dancer leaping to her death, a probable suicide victim, from a twelfth floor hotel window. Of course, there would be no trace of her perceived snakes. She would be just another hapless soul with dreams to die for.

To be continued... Chapter 6

No.860

Perchance To Dream (4)

( This is the fourth installment of a story which begins here.)

Chapter 4: Dream Lover

Mae Lee blinked her eyes. She felt like she had just awakened from a long nap. She had her cellphone in her hand. She gasped as she realized she was standing completely nude beside the bed.
....Rhonda felt the phone in her grasp. She was startled as she realized she was naked. As she became more aware of her surroundings she saw Mae Lee on the other side of the bed. She appeared to be in the same state of confusion as she.
....For several moments they ignored each other, looking around the room for someone else. Their moist bodies glistened in the glare of the overhead lights. In unison they sighed in a show of satisfied fulfillment.
....Rhonda was the first to break the silence, "Wh-where did he go?"
...."I don't know. He was just here. We were .." Mae Lee became quiet again.
....Their eyes fell upon the bed. The blanket lay crumpled on the floor. The sheets were disheveled. Then once again, they suddenly became aware of their nakedness. Mae Lee hurried off to the other room as Rhonda knelt down to pick up her discarded underwear.
....Fifteen minutes passed before Mae Lee reemerged, fully dressed, from the other room. Rhonda, also dressed, nodded in her direction. The discussion they were about to have, and a serious discussion was in order, was going to be uncomfortable at best.

He had broken the cellphone connection before the women had started to dress. They were going to be occupied for some time trying to figure out what had happened to them. Then again, he could have "turned" them on for another round.
....He glanced at the hundreds of pedestrians ambling along Michigan Avenue as the cab sped away from The Loop. He mused at the fun he could have if he only had the cellphone numbers of any of them. He could make that traffic cop drop his pants and moon the passing cars. He could make that man in the three-piece suit dance a jig. He glanced at the back of the cabbie and grinned. What if he "convinced" him to shut off the fare meter?
....He became more serious, for he had yet a lot to accomplish. "See Dick and Jane play," he thought. So far he had seen the "Janes" at play, but now it was time to bring the "Dicks" into the game. None of this would have been possible if it weren't for the work of those four students ten years ago.
....He patted the briefcase next to him. There was a lot more of that out there, and he was going get all of it he could. It wouldn't be long before he was sitting on a tropical beach sipping on one those rum drinks with the little umbrellas. Hell, with all this power, he could own the beach.
....Once the four of them were together in one place, he was going to make sure that it was their first and last reunion. There was another matter, however, that had to be taken care of first. Once in Cincinnati, he would have to place a phone call to a certain professor, one Dr. F. Rheinberg.

The address on the e-mail was unmistakable. He quickly printed it and immediately deleted the original from his in-box. It was in code. There were only five people who would be able to translate this particular encrypted message. He read it one more time to be certain of its hidden meaning.

Here is the entertainment list as promised.
Songs: Dream Lover, Eye Of The Tiger, Help Me Rhonda, Stagger Lee, Up On The Roof, Ohio
Cartoon: Milton The Monster
Films: Fritz The Cat, Big Trouble In Little China, The Love Bug

He then fished a lighter out his pocket and lit the corner of the printed text. He dropped it into the empty trash can next to the desk and watched as it was reduced to ashes.
....Dream Lover was the name he had given to the software he had developed. The original program had been activated by an ultrasonic recording of the song Eye Of The Tiger. Two of the songs, Help Me Rhonda and Stagger Lee were obvious references to their project partners Rhonda and Mae Lee. The last place they had been together before they went their separate ways was Up On The Roof of an abandoned warehouse in Cincinnati, Ohio.
....He never liked the nick name, Milton The Monster that Rhonda had given him. It was only natural that Mae Lee's pet name for Herbert would evolve from Herbie to The Love Bug. Their mentor's initialized first name had resulted in his disdain for the name. He was not a happy camper the first time he'd overheard them referring to him as Fritz the Cat.
....It was the remaining film title that worried him. With Rheinberg present, they had all agreed that the their project would end ten years ago. If their notes, the software and specialized equipment ever fell into the wrong hands, or if it was ever used again by any of them, nothing good would come of it. The world was not ready for a fool-proof method of thought transferral, mind reading, or mind control. Dream Lover could do all that and more.
....Big Trouble In Little China meant that Dream Lover had been activated by someone. That wasn't good. He had plenty of vacation time due him, it was time to use it. It looked like the old gang was about to have an unscheduled reunion in Cincinnati.

Propped by his elbows, Dr. Rheinberg lowered his forehead into his hands. For several minutes he had been sending the encrypted message to the others. He had hoped that it would never have to be sent.
....He blamed himself. He had honored his students' wishes and locked away everything related to Dream Lover. He had warned them of the inherent danger. He'd told them that every trace of it should have been destroyed.
....It was a magnificent achievment that his prized students had accomplished. It was a shame that they could not publish their findings. As magnificent as it was, its possibilities were far more monstrous.
.... He shook his head and clinched his fists in anguish. He looked in forlorn defeat at the ransacked filing cabinets. Only two days before, he had returned from a two-month vacation overseas to find that his house had been burglarized. Not that it mattered any longer, but this had not been a random break in. He was certain that the perpetrator had been looking for a specific thing.
....Every folder! The notes and equations! The dictated tapes decribing test results! The software! Everything! Even his password! Gone! It was all gone!
....His thoughts were broken by the twitter of his cellphone. He placed the phone to his ear and spoke, "Dr. Rheinberg. How can I..."
....He relaxed as a high-pitched version of a song familiar to him began to emanate through the speaker of the phone. He sat there, a trance-like glaze in his eyes. An imperceptible charge of electronic particles entered into the deep recesses of his subconscious mind.
....He eyed the cellphone in his hand curiously. He shrugged, placed it on the desk before him and rose from the chair. He walked into the kitchen and turned on the four burners on the gas range. He inhaled deep and then exhaled long and hard. The pilot lights were extinguished within seconds.
....He returned to his desk and placed a CD into the player there. He selected the desired track and eased back into the chair. Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries wafted through his den. It was his favorite piece of music. Nothing relaxed him more than listening to the stirring music as he enjoyed a pleasant smoke from his favorite meerschaum pipe.
....The pipe packed with fresh tobacco, he positioned the lighter above the bowl. He seemed unaware of the strong aroma of natural gas...

From an outdoor coffee shop across the street he could hear the rousing music. He closed the laptop at the same instant as the explosion. He looked up in time to see a thirty-foot ball of flame burst forth from the corner apartment. Windows shattered in several of the facing buildings, so powerful the blast.
....He placed the phone into his breast pocket and picked up the computer. He was two blocks away from the carnage as the first of the fire engines screamed by.
....He grinned and said, "I hope they remembered the marshmallows!" He broke into a hearty laugh as he rounded the corner out of sight of the conflagration.

To be continued... Chapter 5

No.859

Perchance To Dream (3)

( This is the third installment of a story which begins here.)

Chapter 3: Mind Rape

They stepped out of the elevator onto the 17th floor. Rhonda stood motionless staring at the cell phone she was holding. Then she heard Mae Lee's voice a step behind her, "What the hell? That's the second time today," she exclaimed.
....Rhonda turned to her and saw that her friend seemed to be in as much of a quandary as she.
....Mae Lee averted her attention from her cell phone to the one in Rhonda's hand. She asked, "You too?"
....They had come to the same conclusion. As crazy as it seemed, random but yet identical events had been afflicting both of them. Coincidences just didn't happen in bunches and certainly not to two different people at virtually the same time. Their shared consternation had to be discussed and analyzed.
....Once inside the room, the women began to pace about. First, one would stop in mid stride and ask a question of the other. The other would then do the same.
....Rhonda began to cite the incidents they had in common, counting them off on her fingers. "First, we both have found ourselves holding our cell phones - twice, and having no recollection of using them." She looked in Mae Lee's direction, noting that she was nodding in agreement. She touched a second finger and continued, "Secondly, both of us had strong feelings that we were being watched. And third, both of us had orgasms in crowded public places."
....Mae Lee said, "Don't forget the tiger."
...."Excuse me," Rhonda pondered, "Well yes, we both were somewhat interested in the tiger on that poster. Although, I doubt there is any connection."
...."True, I'm sure there isn't," Mae Lee affirmed. The expression on her face however, suggested she wasn't totally convinced.
....For several minutes both grew silent. Rhonda noticed that Mae Lee was looking around the room with a worried look on her face. She found herself glancing about also.
....Rhonda whispered, "Are you thinking that we are being watched right now?"

In a less opulent room elsewhere in the hotel, he sat before the inactive screen contemplating the flashing cursor. He arched an eyebrow as an unseen fist rapped three times upon the door. He glanced at his watch and rose from the chair. His visitor was right on time.
...."Come in, Mr. ..ah.. Smith," he said as he reached out to shake the extended hand of his guest. He didn't fail to catch sight of the briefcase at his side.
....Smith strode past him into the room. He stopped before the desk and eyed the simple laptop sitting there. "This is your merchandise? I was expecting something more .." he paused as if carefully measuring his choice of word.
...."Sophisticated?" He offered.
...."Yes. Sophisticated," Smith acknowledged. "You did promise a more convincing demonstration this time, did you not?"
....He motioned the man to one of the chairs facing the desk. "So I did. So shall you be convinced."
....He picked up one of a pair of what appeared to be hearing aids and positioned it into his ear and watched as Smith copied his actions. He explained to the man that the objects were wireless receptors linked directly to the software. Because of a post-hypnotic command sent to the minds of the targeted individuals via his cell phone to their cell phones, a sub-program would then kick in. At that point there was a direct link mind-to-mind.
....He explained that he himself didn't fully understand the human brain, but he felt comfortable in surmising that the neurons and synapses were of an electrical nature. Somehow those electric processes could be manipulated electronically. The computer before them acted like a transmitter and receiver. Once the system was activated they would be able to "experience" what the targets were experiencing.
....He concluded his dissertation saying, "Mr. Smith, in your mind you are going to see, hear, feel and even taste any sensation they think they are experiencing."
...."As we speak, my girls are primed and ready, Mr. Smith. All I have left to do is to press that "enter" key to give them the signal. And voila! My friend, you will be practicing mind rape." He smiled and said, "Say, why don't I give you the honors?"
....A sly smirk manifested itself on Smith's face. He reached for the keyboard and without hesitation depressed the designated key.

Changing clothes in one room and her friend in the other, Mae Lee stiffened. For no apparent reason she felt herself becoming aroused. She dropped the clean panties she was about to don to the floor. She didn't know why, but suddenly she felt so horny. She turned and move toward the door to the other room.
....Rhonda stood tense for a moment. She maneuvered her hand beneath the front of her panties and touched herself. She glanced at the closed door and thought of her friend behind it. She pushed the panties down her long legs and stepped out of them. She hadn't felt this horny in a long time.
....They smiled lustily at each other as Mae Lee thrust the door open. They both ran their tongues across their lips in wanton passion as they marveled at the sight of the other's naked body.
....Rhonda wanted no part of foreplay at that moment. She reached down and grabbed the fully aroused manhood even as his hands landed upon her breasts.
....Mae Lee melted into the strong arms. His erect member was pulsing against her stomach. She wanted him. She needed it.

Smith removed the earpiece and glared at the man. "What the hell? I see two lezzies going at it. What are you trying to pull here?"
....The man stood and laughed. "That was a little surprise I planned for you."
...."Surprise? Look, I've seen hundreds of broads making it before. What's so special about those two?" Smith was visibly angry.
...."Mr. Smith, in your business .. you prefer Adult Entertaiment and not porn, correct, sir?" Smith seemed willing to listen so he went on, "The broads you so lovingly mention are actresses. It's their jobs to get it on before a camera."
...."I know my business, pal."
....He held up an open hand in front of Smith, "You see, those two women think the other is a man. That was part of the command I sent to their minds. Those two are not acting! They both actually believe they are seeing, touching and about to screw their idea of the perfect man.
....You and I weren't "seeing" what they think they are seeing, that is, what they were told to see."
....Smith sat back down and after thinking a moment said, "This thing would work on men too? You could make a dude think another dude is a broad?"
....When the man nodded he returned the earpiece to his ear. "I gotta see more of this thing in action." As he made himself more comfortable he looked over his shoulder and said, "You got yourself a deal." He opened the briefcase and displayed the neatly packed twenties. "Here's the million bucks we agreed upon."
....Unnoticed the man had pressed another key while Smith had been ranting. Right on cue Smith's cellphone rang. When he raised the phone to his ear, the other man moved away from the desk.
....He was unfazed as the gun fired point-blank into Smith's brain. He took satisfaction in the fact that he had moved far enough across the room to avoid any of the splattered blood and gray matter that had spewed from the man's head.
....He looked down upon Smith's slumped body. "Dumbass! You stupid bastard, I would have thought you'd have known the difference between a gun and a phone." He broke into a hearty laugh.
....After wiping off everything in the room that he might have touched, he wasted no time in gathering all of the equipment and the briefcase. He opened the door and closed it behind him. He had to make him self scarce for the time being.

To be continued ...Chapter 4

No.857

Perchance To Dream (2)

(This is the second installment of the story. Chapter one can be found here. )

Chapter 2: See You In Your Dreams

Mae Lee hated flying, and the turbulent flight to Chicago had only reinforced that feeling. She would have passed on that year's Psychiatry Convention had she not learned that an old friend was to be the keynote speaker. Dr. Rhonda Fisher had distinguished herself as the country's leading authority on dream interpretation. Mae Lee found herself torn. A part of her was like a nervous fan seeking an autograph from a rock star. On the other hand, she was excited to be reunited with a friend she hadn't seen in over ten years.
....She returned her cell pull to her purse. That's odd, she thought, she didn't remember using it.
....As she retrieved her luggage she felt a sudden warmth stirring within her. Some forgotten memory began to resurface. Her faced flushed in shame. She looked around nervously. There was a feeling that she was being watched. She could have sworn that she'd heard someone call out her name. As quickly as they had appeared, the sensations passed. The cab ride from the airport to downtown was without further incident.

Rhonda smiled as her finger which had been tracing a path down the list of attendees came to rest upon a familiar name. It would be good to see Mae Lee again. It had been too long since they'd last seen each other.
....Using the hand clutching her cell phone, she brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Perplexed, she stared momentarily at the phone. She whispered through pursed lips, "What am I doing holding this?" Thinking no more about it, she dropped it into her jacket pocket.
....She turned and scanned the crowd of people milling about in the main reception room. Was she being watched? She thought someone had spoken her name. A sudden wave of emotions came over her causing her to shudder in embarrassment.
....Her eyes focused on a large poster near the entrance to the hall advertising the arrival of the circus to the Windy City. The sign featured a rather prominent Bengal tiger in the forefront of a Big Top background.

His last call completed, he flipped the phone and placed it into his breast pocket. He grinned and for his personal amusement said aloud, "Reach out and touch someone!"
....He stood before the mirror and straightened his tie. Satisfied with his appearance, he moved over to the desk and opened the laptop. Things were indeed looking up he thought as sat down before the device. As the computer's start-up processes came to a halt he began to chant, "My kind of town...Chicago is.."
....He deftly typed in the password: "eye-of-the-tiger."

"Mae Lee!" Rhonda shouted over the sea of heads between them. Both were beaming as they made eye contact. From separate directions the two women weaved through the gauntlet of humanity. Just managing to avoid a collision they embraced one another, tears of happiness forming in their eyes.
....It took a few minutes more for then to make the arduous trek away from the crowded center of the hall. Finally, they found room to move and bit of privacy near the entrance. They had stopped in front of the circus poster. For several moments the pair seemed transfixed by the eyes of the big cat.
...."Is it me, or is there something strange about that tiger?" Rhonda asked turning to face Mae Lee.
...."Strange?" Her friend replied, "I don't see anything ..." Her voice trailed off for a brief moment, "And yet..."
....Rhonda shrugged, "Hey! we have a lot of catching up to do. It has been a little over ten years."
....Mae Lee nodded, "Yes, much too long!"
...."So," began Rhonda, "Speaking of tigers, have you any exciting men in your life? Anybody special?"
...."No. I'm afraid there are no men," she said pointing at the poster, "And no tigers or pussy cats, for that matter."
....Rhonda smiled knowingly, "Same here. There's just me and my magic missile."
....Mae Lee giggled, "I guess the two of us don't have the time to have a man hanging around."
...."Alas, we've both become pocket rocket scientists. Analyze that, huh?" Rhonda replied.
....Mae Lee began to feel uncomfortable and said to Rhonda, "I'm sorry, but I really need to find someplace to freshen up a bit."
...."Surely," Rhonda responded. "Now that you mention it, I could stand a change myself. I have a suite upstairs, you're welcome of course."
....Mae Lee smiled, "That's sweet. I have to grab my suitcase from the coat room first."
....Shortly, as the elevator began its ascent, Mae Lee spoke. "I have a rather embarrassing confession to make, Rhonda." Assured that she had her friend's attention she continued, "On the way here .. at the airport .. at baggage claim .." she grew silent and lowered her head.
....Rhonda looked quizzically at her and said, "It's okay. I promise I won't try to psychoanalyze you. Please, continue."
....Mae Lee took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "In the middle of that baggage claim area ..without any stimulus, I had a climax. My God, I came in a public place, Rhonda!"
....Her mouth agape, Rhonda could not believe what she was hearing. What were the odds? She cleared her throat and uttered , "Me too. The same thing happened to me!"
....Mae Lee's eyes widened in surprise. Rhonda pointed in the direction of the floor of the car. "Yes, it's true. Right down there in the middle of that floor - surrounded by all those people!"

A lone man sat a table across the room from the elevator bank. He tugged at his tie as he produced a cell phone from his breast pocket and placed it next to a running laptop. His fingers danced across the keyboard.
....He looked up at the elevator door through which the two women had departed. He grinned and in triumph said, "Let the games begin!"
....He nodded in approval as the screen before him came to life. "See you in your dreams."

To be continued... Chapter 3

No.856

New Santa On the Block

Be afraid! Be very afraid!
There's a new Santa on the block and he's comin' to town!

Santa's son has hit the road in this sequel to the previous post,The Anti-Claus.

Chapter 5: Deck the Halls With Pumpkins

Klaus Kringle knew what he had to do to achieve revenge. This Christmas was not going to be like those of the past. This year there would be two Santa's out there on Christmas Eve, each with a different agenda.
....While the jolly one in the red suit would be filling stockings for all the good boys and girls, the angry one, clad in black leather, would be cashing in his unused Halloween tricks. It would be a Boo-tiful Christmas this year.
....Conceived on Christmas, born on Halloween, Klaus had long harbored a deep hatred for the man known as Santa Claus. Not only only was the man a philanderer, but he was also a devious dead-beat dad. Through his website, Bastards-of-Claus.com, Klaus had learned that Santa had sired children all over the world. He was not alone. He was not unique.
....Al Gore's invention, the Internet, had given him untold power. The illegitimate offspring of Mr. Claus had united through the tag boards and chat rooms linked to Klaus' site. Thus, a master plan was launched. He had gained a legion of faithful disciples. The Christmas of '06 was going to be a memorable one, the year of the Anti-Claus.
....In cities all over the world, the Bastards of Claus would be celebrating Halloween in December. Instead of exchanging gifts, they would be tricking without the treating.

Chapter 6: Hark, the Harley Angels

After customizing his brand new 2006 Harley Super Glide to reflect his persona, Klaus roared out his driveway. His headlamp, filtered red, shown brightly from the "nose" of the hand-crafted Rudolph head mounted to the front of his bike. His gloved hands gripped the handlebars which resembled a deer's antlers.
....His white flowing beard was in stark contrast to the black stud-spiked leather jacket. Clinched in his teeth was a large cigar, the smoke whirling about the spike atop his black Kaiser helmet. This was no jolly old elf. This was not your father's Santa Claus!
....He pulled into the back of a luxury apartment building. This was where the rich people lived. Santa never missed the stockings of the rich kids. He knew this from the experiences of his youth. The rich-shit kids always got the best, most expensive gifts. Klaus had reasoned that the rich fathers had been greasing Santa's palm all along in exchange for the best gifts. The outrage there would have been had those fathers known that Santa had been shagging their wives too.
....He grabbed the over-sized sack that had been secured behind his seat. In the shadows of the night he climbed the fire escape stairs to the roof. Pausing for only a moment to savor his progress, he then began to remove his presents. He grinned as he thought of his minions all over the world exercising their own plans of Christmas treating.

Chapter 7: One Bad Santa Spoils the Whole Bunch

The trap had been set and Klaus lay low waiting for a certain big red rat to come along and take the bait. He gloated that after this night, Santa Claus would be wishing that he had kept his jingle bells in his pants all those years. After this night, Santa would never come again. He giggled cheerfully at his clever little pun.
....He didn't have long to wait. From the northern sky he could hear the jingle of approaching sleigh bells. He watched in nervous anticipation as the eight reindeer and the sleigh laden with one Santa Claus himself touched down upon the roof of the apartment building. The runners had landed on the fresh grease that Klaus had spread all over the roof. He smiled sheepishly as the sleigh and its team suddenly slid out of control and crashed into the wall of the elevator housing shed. He clenched his raised fist in a victory salute as Santa and his deer made contact with the electrified fencing he had wrapped around the structure.
....Klaus emerged from his place of hiding and made his way to the scene of the crash. He had set up his fence with just enough juice to shock Santa and his deer unconscious. He had no desire to seriously injure or maim his victims. He just wanted them incapacitated long enough for him to bring his plans to fruition.
....He worked quickly, removing the toys and presents from Santa's sack and sleigh. He then refilled the sack with bags of jewelry, silverware and expensive electronic equipment. Klaus had been stealing all that stuff from all over the city for the last several months just for this moment.
....What would people think of Santa Claus if he were to be caught with a sleigh full of contraband? That would be answered soon enough he thought. After hiding the original contents of Santa's bag, Klaus returned to his Harley in the back of the building. Rearing his bike like a stallion, he roared away from the premises on the rear wheel.
....Finally, far from detection, he used a stolen cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. Identifying himself as a concerned citizen, he reported suspicious activity on the roof of the apartment complex. His revenge would be almost complete when the police arrived to investigate.
....The law enforcement crew would find a crazy old man claiming to be Santa Claus. They would also find all those stolen goods in his sack. Only when they were leading him away in handcuffs, would he feel that justice had been served.

Chapter 8: One Lump of Coal or Two?

"Klaus," said a voice behind him. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
....His heart skipped a beat as he whirled around to face the source of the voice. "Who's there?" he demanded.
...."Your father, Klaus. I'm your father," answered the figure as he stepped forward.
...."Father?" Klaus said and added in defiance, "You're not my father. That asshole over there on that rooftop is my father." He pointed at the building a few blocks away.
...."No, that man is Santa Claus," the man countered. "I'm the only father you have."
....Klaus was about to speak, but the man raised his hand. "Hear me out, son. I know all about that night when you were only six years old. Your mother and I knew that you had seen us."
...."What?" Klaus protested. "You ... you were there? You perverted bastard, you were watching them?"
...."No, Klaus. You saw your mother and me making love that night."
...."But ... but I saw him .. the red suit .. the beard .. he was kissing .. touching her..." he stammered in confusion.
....The man shook his head, "I came home from an office party that night, Klaus. I rented a Santa Claus outfit to surprise you and your mother."
...."No. No," Klaus cried. "It can't be!"
...."Look son, it's not too late to make things right tonight. You can still save Christmas."
....Klaus' brain was in a state of flux. What if his father was telling the truth? What if Santa was innocent? What if he was just a jolly old elf? Suddenly nothing else mattered. He could ask his father why he had left them so long ago at another time.
....He scarcely noticed the passage of time as he hopped back on his bike, sped to the complex and climbed back onto that roof. His heart was heavy with guilt as he knelt over the unconscious man laying next to the overturned sleigh. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to revive him. The deer were already beginning to stir. The old man moaned and opened his eyes slightly. Klaus stared into the confused but sincere eyes of a gentle man.
....In the distance and approaching fast, Klaus could hear the sirens. He didn't have much time. He had to get Santa up into his sleigh and let him fly away before the police arrived. He had to accept his punishment. He would turn himself in and confess to stealing all the stuff in that bag.

Kringle had moved to a better vantage point and watched as Santa and his sleigh were pulled airborne behind the flying reindeer. He watched in morbid silence as the cops closed in on the man dressed in black leather. He felt sorry for Klaus as he struggled with the lawmen. Yet, he admired his resolve for ultimately doing the right thing. There was some good in him after all.

Epilogue

He sat there staring straight ahead at the padded walls and door. The thoughts coursing through his brain were running the gamut from that of deep despair to a state of dumbfounded confusion. He had no desire for any more electric shock treatments. He wanted no part of their damned needles. He didn't need all of those anti-depressants and anti-psychotics they were force-feeding him.
....How had it come to this? How was it that he had failed? He had let a lot of people down, their faith seriously damaged. He knew that he was going to be there for a long time. He would just have to bide his time and maintain good behavior. One day he would be re-evaluated and he was determined that they would deem him cured.
....He had been barely conscious when that sick man in black had changed clothing with him. Why did that disturbed person keep calling him father? He'd watched helplessly as the man hopped into his sleigh and soared away with his team of reindeer into the night sky.
....No one would believe him, not the police who had arrested him, or the psychiatrists who had evaluated him. They kept telling him that Santa Claus was a fictitious character created to perpetuate the capitalistic side of Christmas. They said he was suffering from delusions.
....The one who had called himself the Anti-Claus had stolen his life, his very existence. He could only wait for that day when they would release him.
....When that day was upon him, then and only then could he exact revenge.

No.837

Until Death Do Us Unite (Part 6)

(This is the final installment of a macabre short story. You might wish to read the previous five chapters beginning here before continuing.)

Merriweather turned and pointed an extended finger at him as he drew nearer. When he began to speak, Cash paused, overcome with confusion.
...."Mr. Cash, only by your confession can your mortal soul be saved," the man said.
....It was the same voice he had heard before. Then the voice had been disembodied, clear and distinct, but not attached to a living person. He'd ignored the voice before, writing it off as some guilt that he might have absorbed from the emotions of the others. It might have even been some primal residue of what was once his own soul.
...."The demons you fear are of your own making. You are your own demon incarnate."
Merriweather was glaring defiantly at the space that Cash was occupying. Somehow, it mattered not how, but the man could see him.
....This angered Cash.

With renewed determination, Cash propelled himself forward and into Merriweather's body. The man resisted, it seemed that every cell in the man's body was fighting his presence. As the struggle for possession continued, Cash realized that it wasn't Merriweather who was being besieged. It was him.
....Cash didn't want to accept it, but he wasn't invading the man's body. He was being drawn into it. It was Cash who suddenly felt violated. The unexpected turn of events was not in his plans. He was in control. The thought of being manipulated like a puppet sickened him.
...."It has to end, Cash. You must face the truth," the voice resounded.
....He tried to respond, but could not. He projected his thoughts to those thoughts that held him captive. It was to no avail. He could neither shut out the voice nor ignore it.
...."Think back, Cash. Think back to that night at your ex-wife's apartment," the voice commanded. "Remember your reaction when you found Johnson's shield on that table. Remember the rage that consumed you."
....Cash did not want to hear a recount of that night. He knew what went down. He didn't need to be reminded.
...."You were in a blind state of betrayal. The badge, still clutched in your hand, was a convenient weapon," the voice seemed to pause for a moment for Cash's reaction. "You must remember how she struggled when you slashed her face with its sharp edge."
....His voice resonated like thunder. "Of course I remember! She was still breathing and screaming when I picked her up..." His thoughts trailed off for a few seconds and he relaxed against the force holding him. "I picked her up and threw her through the window to the street below."

Cash was sobbing uncontrollably. He wanted to wipe his eyes but he couldn't lift his arm. His thoughts shouted at Merriweather, "How could you know what really happened that night?"
...."I was there, Cash. I witnessed the whole thing," Merriweather said.
....Cash struggled to catch his breath. The man's hold on him was getting stronger. The revelation caught him off guard. It hadn't occurred to him that someone else might have been in the apartment that night. It was only by the growing anger within him that Cash found the will to keep trying to free himself from Merriweather's grasp on his thoughts.
...."You see, Cash. It was I who planted Johnson's shield there. We knew you'd find it sooner or later."
....If Cash could've wrapped his fingers around the man's throat, he would've squeezed the life out of him then and there, just to watch him die. Merriweather could sense Cash's animosity, but was unphased. He was enjoying watching him suffer.
...."You had it all wrong, Cash. I was tapping your wife, not Johnson!" Again he paused for the desired effect.
....Cash had been looking for answers, but not to questions he hadn't been asking. He hadn't counted on hearing that he wasn't in control, or that he hadn't been in control all along.
...."You know the rest, Cash. All you have to do is admit it to yourself."

A flood of images began to stream through his mind. He remembered how his fellow officers had avoided him whenever possible after his wife's death. Sure, they'd covered up his involvement. They'd even found a patsy to take the fall. They had looked after him, but wouldn't socialize with him since that night. They'd had no problem lining their own pockets on his extortion income though.
....He'd sworn to himself that someday, somehow he would get even with the lot of them. In his mind, it hadn't mattered that he had been sleeping with his partner's wife, but he could not tolerate the thought of Johnson with his wife. Johnson was to be the first to get his comeuppance. He'd have dealt with the others later.

The drug bust had been in the planning stages for several weeks. They had been strategically postioned around the warehouse waiting for the signal to move in on the unsuspecting gang members. Cash had realized that it was a perfect setting to put his revenge plans into play. When he'd thrown the empty bottle, one of the gang members had been spooked and had opened fire. Although there was confusion during the ensuing fire fight, Cash had managed to get Johnson in his gun sights. He would've been an unfortunate casualty. Cash had thought it out carefully; the non-issue pistol he was carrying would later be found on the warehouse floor.
....Out of nowhere a figure suddenly appeared before him. Before he could act, there was a sharp pain in his chest. As he lay there barely coherent, the shooter approached and stood over him. It was Sharon Gates!

His mind had snapped back to the present as the image of his lover dissipated with the warehouse in the background. He felt numb, unable to move.
...."The woman learned about your affair with Johnson's wife, Cash. You weren't the only angry person out there seeking revenge." Merriweather's voice was not welcome before, and Cash certainly didn't need to hear it then. Still, he was compelled to listen. "Miss Gates was only too glad to turn State's evidence against you. Our other witness was willing to talk as long as we kept the wine flowing with a weekly check." The voice paused to add to Cash's angry demeanor. " It's most unfortunate that neither of them made it to the trial."
....Cash's thoughts exploded from his tortured mind, "You're mad! You can't take a dead man to trial!"
...."Dead?" the voice taunted. "You're not dead, Cash. Not yet. You're very much alive."
....So driven by anger and denial, Cash somehow found the strength to will Merriweather's very being to melt and in turn to be absorbed by his thoughts. The man's screams gave new hope to him. So what, he thought to himself, if things were different than he'd remembered them? The new facts, even if they were unacceptable, didn't matter now that he was so close to attaining his goals. There was only one loose end ... Monahan.

Monahan's gaze was upon him. Cash sneered defiantly at the man. He was close enough to grab. He lunged violently at him. He could barely move his fingers.
....Cash turned pale with a stunned awareness. He could see his fingers moving. He was fascinated as he watched them move one by one and then stop at his command. What madness was this? Where was he?
....He was suddenly weak and felt faint. Behind his hands there were leather straps holding them fast to the arm of a chair. He blinked his eyes and was surrounded by a sterile room, tubes attached to his body. He blinked again and was sitting in a court room. He was showing no emotion as the jury's verdicts came back: guilty of conspiracy, and guilty of murder in the first degree.
....He blinked once more and could see Monahan behind a large window. Standing next to him was Mrs. Johnson. Were they holding hands? He lunged to jump through the glass at them. Still he could not move. Now a strap was holding his head in place. They were forcing something into his mouth. Until then, he'd never known what it was like to be afraid. He was terrified. There was a wetness below. Shit! He'd pissed himself.
....The room drew dark as they pulled a hood over his head. It was just as well, he didn't wish any of those bastards to see him weeping. They weren't going to see his lips tremble with fear. They weren't about to see his eyes bulge in terror. He vowed that he'd make them pay for this injustice. He'd come back once before, and he would come back again!

Cash knew all about Hell. The seconds that passed since they'd placed the hood over his head were Hell. The whispered voices around him were Hell. The adjustments as they checked and rechecked each strap and wire were Hell.
....That voice in the background that sounded like Merriweather was Hell. His words were Hell.
...."May God have mercy on your eternal soul."

A fire like no fire he had ever known or felt coursed through his body. Every nerve seemed to leap, arcing through every inch of his burning tissue. Once again he felt himself being drawn. He was unable to resist its pull. There was no light ahead....
....Only darkness. Finally ... there was sleep.

Finis

No.719

Until Death Do Us Unite (part 5)

(This is the fifth installment of a macabre short story. You might wish to read the previous four chapters beginning here before continuing.)

...."It's not too late to save your soul."

....It was that same voice from before. He'd ignored it before without consequence. There was no need to pay attention to it he thought. Besides, he had enough to think about. Memories were slowly forming. It seemed that the more energized he was becoming, so too was the past becoming clearer to him. At first he'd needed help. From each body in which he'd taken temporary refuge, he had gained a few bits of memory. Each bit was just a small piece of a larger picture. The puzzle was nearing completion.

Divorce was never easy. His had been no exception. His ex-wife was bleeding him for every penny she could get. His credit was gone. She'd gotten everything; the house, the car and the dog! Life had been miserable enough when she'd suspected he was shacking up with a another woman. Life had become one living hell when she'd caught them together.
....Sharon Gates had been a beautiful exotic dancer when Cash had rescued her from that life of sin. She had been enamored by the handsome knight in shining armor who had helped her out of a binding contract with the shiftless owner of the strip club. It had been too easy for Cash to put the squeeze on the man. With the threat of a raid promised by the cop, the man began to fork over a monthly stipend of protection. With the steady flow of money Cash was able to shower the woman with gifts.
....His life of excess came to an abrupt end one weekend during a record heatwave. First the club owner got religion, closed up shop and left town. If it wasn't bad enough that the well had run dry, his wife wanted more and more and more. Then he was being kicked while he was already down. His lover laid some bad news on him. The bitch had gone and gotten herself pregnant.
....Cash felt he had no recourse. He began putting the squeeze on several small businesses with shady dealings. They paid and he kept the heat off them. He had made his biggest score when he'd muscled himself in on a well known drug dealer. He was getting a piece of the pie and his own free supply of the product.
....Then there was that night at his ex-wive's apartment when his world was turned completely upside down. They had been arguing, as was the norm, over money. The war of words had turned violent when she threw the vase at him. He was about to leave when he'd found a police badge on the hall table. It belonged to Johnson, his trusted partner.
....He had gone into a rage. His partner had been banging his god-damned wife! She had then begin to beat him with an umbrella. Raising his hands to protect himself, the shield cut a gash across her face. Blood pouring into her face, she had stumbled backwards while he was shoving her away from him. He had tried to grab her, but her momentum had sent through the window.
....Cash had fled the scene. He hadn't bothered to look at her crumpled body atop the dumpster in the alley. He had paid little attention to the wino who had been lying there across the alley. At that fateful time, he had been thinking only about his own skin.

Cash was reflecting on all that had happened that night. He was reflecting on all that happened since. He was beginning to wish that the memories had not returned. He should have died once and for all when he had been shot. His body had died, but his tormented soul had been stranded in this, his own personal Hell.
...It was true that his fellow officers had cleaned up that mess at his ex-wife's flat. They had gone so far as to have set up some sleazy junkie in connection with her death. The jury had bought the story hook line and sinker and sent the poor bastard up the river for a life sentence. It was Captain Monahan who come with the idea of taking care of the old wino. Everyweek since that night, he had been receiving an envelope containing five new twenty dollar bills.
....There had been a catch to his benefactors' actions. They had wanted equal shares of Cash's action. He'd had no choice but to cut them in. It was then that Cash had handed Johnson the badge he'd so foolishly lost. They'd looked each other in the eye during the exchange. No words had been spoken and the subject was never breeched again.
....Cash had laughed inwardly at the irony of it all. Yes, Johnson had been screwing his wife for some time. He'd wondered then how his partner would have reacted had he known that Cash had been sleeping with his wife also. After his wife had died in that alley, he had been spending more time than ever with his partner's wife. All the while, he had been harboring a grudge against his partner. Mrs. Johnson had been thinking about filing for a divorce. Cash had been so certain that he'd take Johnson's wife away from, that he'd begun to think of her as his wife. He'd become obsessed with woman.
....Cash saw it as a chance to get to his partner, so he encouraged her. Once they were divorced, he'd promised her that the two of them would get married. It'd been an easy sell. He'd known for sometime that she was madly in love with him. Perhaps that was why he'd been so convinced that she was indeed his wife.
....It was then that he'd realized he had just solved another part of the puzzle. The divorce hadn't happened. She'd gotten cold feet. It wasn't his wife and kids he'd seen at the cemetary. She was there for her husband. It had been Johnson's body in that casket! She had spurned him to stay with the bastard!

His anger was building to a fevered pitch. The timing couldn't have been better. There ahead of him, pulling into his driveway was Merriweather. He knew his mission was coming to an end. He had no idea what might lay ahead after, but he was driven to bring it all to a final closure. He would make quick work of Mr. Merriweather. He still had to learn just what happened when he was gunned down. Of most importance, was who had pulled the trigger.
....Then there was Monahan! There was more to him than met the eye. He had to be the "big" that was bigger than he. Besides aiding in the cover-up, Cash knew there had to be something else. In any event, he thought, he was going to make quick work of both Merriweather and Monahan.
....After that, he had one more "errand" to run. There was another funeral that he would need to attend. She would be there too. The "guest of honor" would be one Mrs. Johnson.

Next ... The Conclusion

No.718

Until Death Do Us Unite (part 4)

(This is the fourth installment of a macabre short story. You might wish to read the previous three chapters beginning here before continuing.)

Davis was the one who found O'Leary. He was trembling and fighting back tears of fear and anger as he struggled to pull the body down from the pole. There was no one around to help him. Both Monahan and Merriweather had already driven away.
...."Cash, you bastard! It's you, isn't it?" He looked around, perspiration streaming down his brow. He expected and dreaded a reply, but none was forthcoming.
....Bemused, Cash was observing the drama before him. Had he the ability to laugh, he would have done so at the expense of the pathetic cop kneeling over O'Leary's body. While alive, he would have never thought that the man believed in ghosts.
...."I know all about you, Cash. I know what you're up to," the confused cop muttered almost incoherently. "We destroyed all of the evidence. We made it look like an accident. What more do you want from us?"
....Cash realized that he was actually hearing the man's voice. Was he growing even stronger? Were his powers increasing? There would be another time, he thought, to dwell on his abilities. He was focused on the man and his tirade. The man was spilling his guts and Cash had only to take it all in without provocation.
....What had the man said? They'd destroyed the evidence and had made it look like an accident? It was the second time he heard the inferrence that his fellow cops had covered up something he'd done. O'Leary had left the impression that Cash had killed his wife. How was that possible? He'd seen her at the funeral. She was very much alive.
....Yes, at the funeral. He was still confused about that burial service. Why wasn't it his body in that casket? If it wasn't his body, why had he been drawn there? He cursed himself that he'd neglected to look at the officers who were in attendance. Were any of the four cops sitting at the table in the pub present at the cemetery?

"I should have never gone to see that woman," said Davis breaking several moments of silence. Cash could have sworn that the man was looking right at him. "Damn her and her tea leaves! Damn that crystal ball she was using!" He was sobbing uncontrollably. "I thought she was a phony. I ... I thought that stuff was a crock of shit."
....Cash tensed, captivated by Davis's every word. The damned fool actually went to see a fortune teller? He was growing impatient. The man's blathering was taking too long. He had to get to the heart of the matter. He was going to pay Davis a closer, more personal visit. He needed to make the conversation two-way. He needed to reach out and touch someone, namely Mr. Davis. Curious, he thought to himself, did he actually just make a joke?
....Davis was still rambling. "She said you were still out there. She said you were coming after all of us who were involved." With that statement, Davis pulled his revolver out of the holster and pointed it in Cash's general direction.
....Cash was startled at first. Did Davis think he was going to shoot him? Hell, he had already been shot and killed once before. Did he actually think a bullet would stop him now? He was mere inches from Davis. He could hear the man's labored breathing.
....Uncerimoniously, Davis raised the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The bullet, brain matter and blood passed through the space occupied by Cash's essence. Unaffected, although he'd been denied any more information, Cash allowed himself to be whisked from the scene. With renewed strength he did not resist the force that beckoned him. He knew now that there was no remote mystic force at work. Although he hadn't realized it before, he himself had been that driving force. By his own volition he had been following the path to justice. Perhaps he thought, it was instead vengence that had been fueling his quest.
....There were only two left, Merriweather and the good Captain Monahan. He would find them, just as he'd found the others. He had all of eternity. They had only the rest of their lives. Any betting man would choose eternity.

To be continued...

No.717

Until Death Do Us Unite (part 3)

(This is the third installment of a macabre short story. You might wish to read the previous two chapters beginning here before continuing.)

Only a short time ago Cash was ready to let go of this tenuous hold to his existence. Instead he was now driven by an unrelenting need just to be. He couldn't decide if he were a ghost, an anomalous spectre, or a lost soul looking for a portal to the next phase of existence.
....He hadn't ruled out that he might be a product of a nightmare; that he was in fact alive. Could it be that he lay somewhere in a comatose state, being kept alive by tubes and machinery? Was he drifting in and out of consciousness? If so, that could explain the losses of memory and the inexplicable drain of his strength.
....By the time he'd returned to the grave site, all of the mourners were gone. Two lone grave diggers were shoveling the last of a pile of earth onto the grave. A row of flowers lay nearby.
....The force was still tugging at him, but he resisted. He was growing weaker by the moment. He had to get a look at the body in that casket. If it wasn't him, who was it? Why were his wife and children here? He moved slowly toward the grave. He wasn't going to plunge recklessly into that coffin like he had earlier.
....He ran into something and it was impeding his forward progress. It seemed that there was some barrier that he could not penetrate. Each time he drew nearer to the grave, he realized he was being repelled backward. When he was several meters away from the grave, he aimed his body at the ground. If he couldn't get to the grave from above, he figured he could get there underground.
....Suddenly he found himself hurtling away from the cemetery at an alarming rate of speed.

It was maddening. He was a dead man, wasn't he? Then why couldn't he get near his own body? To add insult to injury, a grave yard had rejected him too! Death had been all around him, but he was being denied that same fate. Every living being with whom he'd been in contact had died. How many more had to die before the nightmare finally came to an end?
...."The answers you seek are not among the dead, but with the living."
....The voice was loud and clear enough that it might have come from someone standing next to him. There was no one there. He felt he must've been delirious if he was beginning to hear voices. He wasn't about to answer. He was more concerned with his flight. At his present trajectory he was about to smack into a brick wall.
....He passed harmlessly through the brick facade. He was drifting slowly toward a table of off-duty police officers. He relaxed, certain that he was being drawn to the officer with his back to him. The sudden rush of blood and inhaled oxygen were exhilarating. The man sat upright and shifted in his chair. If Officer O'Leary was aware of Cash's intrusion, that was his only reaction.
....Through O'Leary's eyes he recognized the other three men as Sargeants Davis and Merriweather, and Capt. Monahan. They were all from his former precinct headquarters.
...."I tell you," said Davis, "there's some strange shit going on."
....Merriweather nodded in agreement, and after taking a long drink from his beer said, " Damn straight!"
....Monahan's gaze turned to O'Leary. "And what about you, O'Leary? You getting spooked too?" he asked coldly.
...."No, I'm cool," he answered. He wasn't showing it, but he was very uncomfortable.
....Cash was trying to keep his presence away from the man's thoughts. He had no wish to disrupt this meeting of these men who had once worked the streets with him. He was certain that the answers he was seeking were there in that pub at that table.
...."Listen, men," said Monahan in a measured tone, "what is said at this table, stays at this table." He made eye contact with each of his charges. "Got it?"
....Even as he nodded in agreement with the others Davis said, "Captain, you gotta admit Johnson jumping in front of a bus is strange enough. But the wino dropping dead too? On the same night?"
....Cash/O'Leary decided to play a trump. "Johnson still had the money on him. He never got it to the bum." Cash formed a grin on O'Leary's face.
....O'Leary stammered uneasily, "I mean, it just struck me as ironic. We could've left the cabbage on Cash's body."
...."Yeah," added Merriweather. "Johnson didn't need to be found dead with all that money on him."
....Monahan nodded, "True. It's too bad Johnson was found across town. If we had found the body, we could've made sure that all that money made it to his wife and kids."
....Cash wanted to force the conversation for more answers. He couldn't ask questions that O'Leary would obviously have known the answers. He didn't want to force O'Leary into making any statements that the men couldn't possibly know either. He considered leaving O'Leary's body and entering one of the others.
....Unexpectedly, O'Leary rose and proclaimed, "That's it for me. I'm heading home to the old lady."

Cash began to exert himself on O'Leary's mind and thoughts. He had to drain as much information as he could. He wished to leave his body. He had to get back inside to slip inside one of the others. There was much more to be learned. As he attempted to leave the man's body, he felt himself being held tight.
....O'Leary's thoughts invaded his. "We covered your ass, Cash. What else do you want from us?"
....So, O'Leary knew all along that Cash was there. Cash remembered that this man had always been one cool customer. He was always in control of any situation.
...."Everything was under control. It was all going to be swept under the rug. Everyone's record was going to be clean," the man's thoughts exclaimed to him." The man shook his head and waved his fist in defiance. "But no! You have to come back and screw everything up!"
....Cash was concentrating so much at his attempts to escape the man's body, that he didn't notice that O'Leary had removed his belt. He had just grasped a surprising bit of information when he sensed a shortness of breath. He/ O'Leary, they were gasping for breath.
....Emotionless, Cash looked upon the lifeless body. He had been so busy, so consumed draining memories from the man that he had failed to realize what the physical body had been up to. His belt around his neck, O'Leary had climbed atop a mailbox by a utility pole. Without a telling thought that Cash might've sensed, he had then placed the other end of the belt onto a climbing spike on the pole. Without hesitation he had stepped out into empty space.
....By the time he had been cast from the body, the involuntary body twitches had ceased. At that moment, he no longer cared about the man. He was trying to digest the fact that he'd had two wives! From the late O'Leary's thoughts, he'd learned that he'd murdered one of them!

To be continued...

No.715

Until Death Do Us Unite (part 2)

(This is the second installment of a macabre short story. You might wish to read the previous chapter here before continuing.)

For some reason unknown to him, Cash had not given up the ghost. Perhaps some higher power had given him the chance to solve his own murder, to bring his killers to justice.
....He was beginning to understand the power he had been given. It was apparent that he had to enter living bodies to maintain his continued existence. He had yet to determine how much time he could let pass before he had to seek out another host.
....So far he'd entered two people's bodies. Both were now dead. The wino had died from a massive heart attack. His former partner had committed suicide. This was the rationalization he chose to use to justify the fact that they'd still be alive had he not invaded their souls.
....Was it coincidence, or had he been guided by some unseen force to those particular individuals? As a living police detective, he would have never seen a possible connection between his partner and a wino. Yet, the two of them had witnessed his death.
....He was anguished by the fact that he had no memories of his own. He was acting on only those memories that he'd acquired from his previous hosts. Those memories, however, were only temporary. When his life force began to wane, so did the memories.

There was a sudden sense of motion. As if under the influence of some magnetic force, he was once again being drawn somewhere. He could only surmise that he was bound to another person who was as much a piece of the puzzle as the others had been. He had the feeling that for whatever reason, he had been chosen judge, jury and executioner. This was surely a Hell that had been decreed for him.
....He was following a police paddy wagon up a busy thoroughfare. He drifted inside the vehicle without effort through the closed rear doors. Two officers were seated on either side of a shackled female. A third armed officer sat opposite the trio.
....Thinking he was targeted for one of the policeman, he was drawn instead to the woman. In moments he was becoming one with her. A chill seemed to come over her as his essence merged with every cell of her body. Like the others, she appeared very aware of his presence. She seemed undisturbed by the intrusion. Her only reaction was to merely glance at her captors.
....It seemed that every synapse of her brain was discharging thought patterns and dream-like images at a rapid pace. It was if they were intended specifically for him alone. The emotions of those thoughts and images swept through him.
....Sharon Gates had been his lover. She was five-monthjs pregnant with his child. A glimmer of guilt crept over him as he learned 'again' that she had left her husband for him. Cash had told her that he was going to get a divorce. He'd promised her a happy home. He'd assured her that the baby would have a father.
....There was anger in her thoughts. She knew he had lied to her. All he had cared about was the sex! She had been scorned and wanted revenge. She had known of his shady off-duty escapades. She knew all about the payola. She was going to rat him out.
....She hadn't counted on the unwritten code that the police watch out for their own. She'd tried to convince these officers that the crack and drur paraphenalia had belonged to him. She'd insisted that she wasn't the criminal, but the victim of a crooked philandering cop. They didn't believe a word she had to say.
....Was it it out of desperation, or was she addressing Cash himself? She suddenly lunged and grabbed the gun from one of the cop's holsters. In the ensuing struggle a single shot was fired. Sharon Gates lay dying, a tell-tale bullet wound in her forehead.
...."Cash, you're going to rot in Hell...," she whispered weakly before passing away.

He was outside the vehicle which had pulled over to the side of the street. The policemen were standing around discussing the incident. They were no doubt making sure each of their versions of the story were in agreement. He could not hear their conversations. He was able to move closer. He would have to get very close to learn more. He was going to enter one of them.
....He couldn't move! He was at full strength and yet he seemed to be frozen in space. He relaxed to reserve his strength. All he could do was...wait.
....Sure enough, he didn't have to wait long. He was rising and turning away from the officers and the dead woman who had been his lover. If he'd learned nothing else, his selection of hosts had not been random. They weren't by coincidence. He was being directed. Someone, or something, was using him as a pawn.
....He was beginning to realize that in life Cash hadn't exactly been a model citizen. He had been an unfaithful husband. Apparently he had been a crooked cop on the take. He thought for a moment on Johnson's lingering last words. He'd said that Cash should let it go and that it was bigger than the two of them. It was beginning to look like quite a few of the "city's finest" were making a little scratch on the side.

The thoughts were interrupted as he noticed that he was soaring over an area of trees. He was headed in the direction of a large clearing that lay ahead. It was a cemetary. Moments later he was admist the attending mourners who here standing before a casket. It was not lost on him that several of the men were police oficers decked out in their dress uniforms.
....He knew that if he'd allow himself to look into the casket, he would not be surprised whose body was there. He heard the sobs of a woman behind him. That would be his wife with his son and daughter standing at her side. Maybe he had absorbed some of Sharon Gate's emotions, for he had no desire to look upon his family.
....His attention remained fixed on the coffin. This must be where that force had been drawing him all along. He had to join his body before it was to be interred. It didn't matter why there had been contact with Johnson, the wino, or his lover. He was tired. He was ready for that eternal sleep. He mustered all of his strength and dove headlong into the casket.
....He came to, groggy but still existing. It took a moment for him to realize that he was several miles above the city. The body had denied him access. He felt himself growing weaker. His thoughts were becoming muddled. There was a gentle tug at him. He was being beckoned again.
....He knew it might be his last actions, but he resisted the force. He was acting on his own urgency. He had to return to that funeral. He had to get to that casket. It wasn't his body!

To be continued...

No.713