Guiding the cycle along an unused and overgrown bike path, Mo emerged from a wooded area and entered what had once been a little league baseball complex. The fencing around home plate of the first field had become home to a nest of thick vines, whose offshoots trailed out into the aluminum stands and dugouts. The display was so dense, that most of the infield was obstructed from view and Mo wondered what might dwell in the center of the cluster.

He parked the bike beside what was the concession stand. After quickly scavenging and finding nothing to eat, Mo removed a small medical kit from a compartment on the cycle and taking his weapon, went into the restroom.

There was no electricity, so he switched his flashlight on and propped it on its end so that the beam was cast upward toward the ceiling. Mo opened a sterile wipe and swabbed his right temple. Then, withdrawing a scalpel and a pair of tweezers, he opened his flesh with the blade and set about the grisly task of removing his implant.

*********

Grant stared disbelievingly at the sliding glass doors. Much of the glass was missing, only a long, triangular shaped shard remained attached to the frame. There was a ladder on its side outside of the doors that hadn’t previously been there. Déjà vu rumbled through him and Grant knew he’d seen this scene before.

Behind him, someone ran toward him. “Daddy!” Grant turned and saw the transparent figure of his daughter running towards him. She zipped past, nearly brushing against his arm and in her wake, the father smelled the perfume Samantha had always worn. He inhaled, taking in her scent and was overcome with emotion.

Grant followed her and saw her stop on the deck, near the ladder. This too, was familiar, although he recalled having witnessed the event from a different vantage point. As he neared, Samantha stooped down, over another person who had suddenly become visible. Approaching with caution, Grant watched the scenery change, becoming more distinct. What had been shadowy phantoms, now were clearly etched into his existence. There, before him, his daughter attended to another Grant. Another father…her father.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, her voice too, shifting from a fuzzy echo to completely comprehensible.

Grant’s double laughed and along with him, Grant replied, “Yeah, sweetie, I’m fine.”

Suddenly he understood why it was so familiar – because it had happened before. Grant had been the one who’d had fallen off the ladder while working on a light fixture beside the sliding doors. He’d fallen into them and cut himself, requiring twenty-two stiches on his left forearm.

“You’re bleeding!” Samantha yelled.

Grant rolled up his left sleeve and stared at his scar while he listened to the other him say, “It’s alright, just a little cut.”

“It’s not little, dad! You’re going to need stiches!” cried Samantha, with Grant repeating her lines, word for word.

Helping the other Grant to his feet, Samantha’s eyes raised toward Grant and for a an instant, their eyes met. Then the two fell into their previous phantom state as they hurried back inside the house. As they made their way through the house to the car in the driveway, their sounds became tiny, distant thuds, like debris softly tossed by the wind.

“Dear God,” mumbled Grant. “I have to tell the others.”

From the garage he took an old bicycle and began the long ride toward Community.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

*********

Applying a butterfly bandage to his incision, Mo glanced down at the implant sitting atop the restroom sink and pondered how such a small thing could cause so much trouble. It hadn’t been able to control him – which caused him to speculate about its functionality - but in the event that it was still working, it would allow the Machine to track him and therefore, had to be removed.

Mo brought the butt of his rifle down atop the sink hard, smashing the device into pieces, along with half of the sink. An unintended consequence, he chastised himself for causing so much noise. He heard movement outside and listened. It sounded like something slid across the roof of the concession stand. Another similar noise occurred along the outside wall. A gut feeling drove Mo out into the open just as the concession stand was crushed in the twisting coils of two massive vines. He fell to the ground, then scrambled backward up against a tool shed, taking aim at the sentient plant.

Had they heard him? Felt the vibrations of the sink crashing to the floor, maybe?

The vines moved sluggishly along the rubble. They seemed to be searching for the cause of the noise. Unsuccessful, they withdrew into the main cluster housed along the backstop.

Mo quietly exhaled his relief. He immediately became alert, however, when he heard the distant sound of dogs barking. He rose to his feet. Determining the sound wasn’t too far away, he decided to investigate. The cycle had been damaged by the falling debris, but he dragged it out from under the concrete, mounted it, and drove off.

A quarter of a mile down the road, Mo halted the cycle. There, before a vast wall of tangled vines, stood a woman and two dogs. The dogs were agitated, barking at something before the woman. As Mo dismounted and approached, he recognized the outline of his wife.

“Lacy!”

Both dogs, eerily similar looking, turned toward him, but she did not respond. The older dog ran toward his master, while the other continued growling and snapping at something. Mo quickened his pace, staring down the rifle’s barrel.

“Lacy!” he tried again, but with no success. Within ten feet, Mo began to circle around her in order to get a better view of what was happening. His heart sank as the orb came into view. Lacy’s outstretched hand was inside of the light.

“No! Lacy!”

He ran to her and pulled her free. They stumbled as he bore her full weight; she was limp and seemed lifeless. Lacy stared beyond her husband, into nothingness. Mo leaned over and was eternally grateful to feel her breath against his ear. Behind them, the orb was concealed and pulled into the network of vines.

When Mo lowered Lacy to the ground, dread took hold of him when he saw her left arm. The hand and forearm were speckled with a dark substance, both on the surface of her skin and beneath it. The darkness appeared to be spreading up her arm.

“Lacy?” He caressed her cheek, then shook her. She didn’t respond.

Gus whined and licked Mo and he thoughtlessly patted him. “It’s okay boy…she’ll be okay…”

My wife…my life…

Mo rose and went to the cycle. He unfastened a machete and pulled it free from the sheath. At Lacy’s side, he removed his helmet, then his bio suit. Tearing a tee shirt in two, he readied the tourniquet. He raised the machete over his head.

“I love you,” he said, then brought the blade down.