New Story - Chance Encounter

I'm on a roll. I added a new story called Chance Encounter to my Wattpad collection. Go check it out and let me know what you think.

I have been writing more fringe sci-fi or at least those are the ideas that have been brewing the most. Not quite futuristic but not quite modern either. Trying to wrap the plausible into the reality you know. It's something and I am writing almost everyday. 500 words a day is the goal and if I go more I write more. If I hit a block and I hit my goal I stop and sleep on it. Usually I can pick right up where I left off without skipping a beat and without banging my head on the desk for an hour trying to get to the next step.

Let the brain work, don't work your brain.

Time to turn the page.

New Story Published - The Buddy Well

I have a collection of stories that are more on the horror side, disturbing maybe, I hope I build them with the right twists to catch the readers off guard. It's over on my Wattpad profile and I call it Creepy Spine Tinglers. In there am putting my short stories that fit this genre. The stories run from a 500 words up to 5,000. Short to short-ish.

My latest I call The Buddy Well. This one is one of the more morbid ones I have put on paper, it definitely could have been more graphic but I left it to the readers to fill in the gaps. I am still working on writing and creating suspense, but that's how you learn. You write many things that suck to get the good stuff out.

Go check it out, leave feedback, enjoy it either way.

Time to turn the page.

Wattpad profile.

Back In The Writing Swing

I am begging to find my writing groove again. I am writing every day trying to focus mainly on fiction, creative works but also blogging meaningful posts on my other blogs that are more aligned with my career works.

I am using Wattpad as my posting place and where I write the most. Here's my profile.

All the little ideas I have I am putting into collections or writing them as stand along short stories. My goal this year, like last, is to ramp up and participate in the NaNoWriMo this year. Either complete my Emerald Event novel or start a new one. I may trash and re-write The Emerald Event but between now and then I may get motiviated on something else in my journals of ideas.

Either way I am getting my routine and loving it again. I have finally figured out how to let go and stop over analyzing my works to an impossible goal of 'perfection'. Create, mold, then let it go.

WOOT!

Time to turn the page.

Everyday Writing Exercises

Writers write always. Whether it's a blog post, journal entry, a letter to mom. As long as words are being put on paper it's writing. Now, I say that if you are trying to be a fiction writer then you need to be writing fiction everyday on top of the other compositions you may do but that's me.

Geek to Author is a slow go. Finding time to write is very difficult, especially with a full career, wife and 2 kids, coaching baseball, etc... but I see people do it all the time and they are writing books! Why can't I? Why can't you? I know the answer, commitment. Dedication. Failure to build a structured routine.

I came across a resources, several actually, that is specifically targeted for writing with a career. The common thread is ease into the routine but build into your day that you sit down and write. Period. I am going to share these writing exercises for everyone else as well as give an insight to my methods.

I haven't been blogging here much, but that's because I have been writing. Not putting anything out there for consumption yet, but I am writing. Short stories mostly but I have a very rough draft of 50,000 words toward a book. So I am doing it. The second part, editing my work, is where my analytical OCD is battling me. Tweaking the stories, expanding them, changing the dialogue instead of fixing the grammar and flows.

Each exercise I do I will start to publish them here. They are not ground breaking and most of them I tweak around to make them more creative and challenging for me. You don't have to follow them verbatim but use them in your own way for your daily writing. I have found it's very liberating and frees the mind to break away from your stories and structures and freestyle write about nonsensical topics as creative and in styles you may never use again. Experiment.

We only learn from failures.

Time to turn the page.

Geek To Author - Wattpad

Short Story - The Devil's Nest

The Devil's Nest

Frank Baxter was a prisoner in hell on earth, The Devil's Nest. A remote, North Atlantic prison where the inmates rule themselves. Any thoughts of escape meant trying to survive in the freezing ocean. One day he protects an inmate and receives a way off and back to freedom and learns his true fate.

-------------------------------------- 

It was an anomaly of nature that housed nature’s anomalies. Jutting hundreds of feet out of the cold North Atlantic was an island pillar of jagged rock forming a platform above the frigid waves. Sitting on top was a true hell on Earth. A relic of the Cold War, once a fort used by the Americans to watch for Russian ships that would dare attempt sailing the glacier filled waters, has since been turned into a prison they called the Devil’s Nest. Standing alone for hundreds of miles around, this geological spectacle that used to protect one country from another now protects the world from the ones housed inside. 

The Devil’s Nest is where countries, that know of its existence, send their criminals they want to forget. The kind that are too dangerous to be kept but so violent, evil, and twisted they have to be studied. Once the academic shrinks were finished, or killed in the process, of studying them they were shipped off to the Nest to rot. 

The only guards on the island were there not to maintain order in the prison but to protect the single dock, the prisoners themselves were not their concern. Lined with barbed wire, concrete barriers, and locking gates the path down to the boats, for the most part, was impassible. A large boulder, 10 feet high, sitting between the prison and the top of the path was painted bright red by the guards as a message. Known by the inmates as the Blood Rock, anyone that steps past it they are killed on site, no verbal orders to stop, no warning shots. 

As the word spread about the guards new pretty red stone a young, cocky new arrival by the name of Johnny K tested that rule. He first taunted the guards like they were the push overs from the main land prisons. Johnny danced around, flinched as if he was going to cross over, at one point he climbed on top of the rock. However, the moment his foot slipped passed the Blood Rock, with the rest of the inmates watching, five guards put over twenty rounds in Johnny K without hesitation. Johnny K was dead before he hit the ground. 

What happened next solidified the Blood Rock’s name and sent the message loud and clear that this was the law of the land. Johnny’s friend ran over to his is bullet filled body, either to try to save him or drag him back. As he passed the Blood Rock, he too was filled with the guard’s wrath just as quickly. Their bones still sit where they fell, on the other side of the Blood Rock.

On the prison side of the Blood Rock there was no official rules, no warden, no watch towers, no patrols, no schedules, no guns. The criminals were on their own. The guards only cared about protecting the boats, the Nest’s cliffs and open sea ensured no one was going anywhere. 

If someone wanted to leave they would have to scale the slippery, often ice covered cliffs, without falling to the razor sharp rocks below. By the remote chance one was to make it unscathed to the water’s edge, the 40 degree North Atlantic waters would not allow anyone to survive more than 5 minutes, not that anyone knew which direction the closest land was anyway. The Devil’s Nest was it’s own guard, the ocean was the enforcer, the ones sent here alive received a sentence is worse than death.

No matter how barbaric, violent and evil they were eventually survival instincts took over and the ones that wanted to live, hanging on to hope they would get off this horror one day, came together and formed whatever regulating structure they could. Those who stood in their way or broke their rules were killed quickly and their bodies were sent to the only other building on the island, the incinerator. 

Near the path to the docks, sat a smaller, rectangular building with a large smoke stack rising out of the center. The thick black smoke streamed out over the sea, the only sign that there was activity on this desolate monolith. Inside was the furnace fueled by sporadically delivered oil. When that ran out they burned anything they can to keep the heat flowing and the inmates from freezing. 

When an inmate dies, naturally or not, their body is sent out there to be disposed of. Placed in a make shift coffin and set outside the prison doors, the inmates ring a huge bell on the tower to alert the guards of a death and disposal. After a man by the name of Freddie Malkin faked a death bell ring, hid in the coffin and killed two guards before he was gunned down, they don’t take any chances of a repeat event. The guards approach the coffin, wrap a chain around it and attach a padlock, then take it, to the incinerator. Inside the longest resident of the Devil’s Nest and the only prisoner allowed past the Blood Rock, Viktor Krupin, waits to dispose of the recently departed. The guards place the coffin on a rail, take off the chains and Viktor quickly slides the coffin in to the flames, locking the steel door behind it.

Viktor’s age, withering health, and years of favors to the guards got him his current job, the one job the guards didn’t want to do. He has accepted his fate that the Nest will be his tomb and is now waiting for his time. Born in Russia he joined the military and was training in the inhospitable expanse of northern Siberia. While he was in Afghanistan he used his new found skills to kill innocent women instead of the enemy. In a very public arrest and trail and the International community watching he couldn’t be disposed cleanly the only choice was permanent exile. His training allowed him and others to survive in the harsh, cold environment throughout the years. He no longer poses a physical threat and has helped the right people at the right times. Now he is the caretaker of the building delivers the heat that keeps them all alive. The prison administrator, the inmate Leader, has made it clear to the rest that Viktor is untouchable. 

---

Frank Baxter arrived six years ago and in the first hour he stepped foot off the boat he made it clear to the rest who he was. Before he got to his bunk he killed three inmates with his bare hands that tried to give him some new fish hazing and broke the leg of another. He walked to the center of the prison, looking up to all the bunks, and let the others know that as long as he received his fair share of rations further incidents would be avoided. Short in height he made up for with his massive muscular build. He didn’t spend time reading books, writing letters, or sitting and starting at the walls while he sat in his cell. The time was spent doing thousands of pushups, sit-ups, pull-ups and training anyway he could. 37 men dead from the hands of Frank Baxter and the only reason he avoided the gas chamber was his defense in every murder, everyone he killed deserved to die. 

Murderers that got off on a courtroom technicality, child rapists, woman beaters, and violent drug dealing thugs. The judges, juries, and lawyers deep down agreed with him but couldn’t let this murdering vigilante go and they couldn’t let him die either for the ‘good’ he did. So they sentenced him to life and sent him to Devil’s Nest.

Day in and day out Frank ran his routine. Without the restrictions of 23 hours stuck in a cell he used the grounds for his daily workouts. Jogging around the facility, keeping within the boundaries of the Blood Rock, using the massive stones laying around as makeshift weights, and doing it in his shorts and shirtless to toughen up in the extreme freezing rain and wind that battered the island. For six years this was his routine, no one bothered him since his first day and any troubles were kept out of his way.

One morning as he was running around the prison he heard a group of men yelling and screaming near the Blood Rock. As he rounded the corner, the group came in to view, he paused to asses the situation. On the prison side on the Blood Rock stood three men Frank recognized as pain in the ass tough guy wannabes; Roger, Willy, and John. All loudmouths who talk more than they act. Standing on the other side near the incinerator was Viktor eating an apple and holding a bag of many more. Apparently Viktor was getting leftovers from the guards and he was seen bringing them back to the only place the other prisoner’s could not go. 

Frank stood behind the group out of their sight, watching them yell and scream realizing that Viktor had a stash of food and he was holding out on the rest. Viktor didn’t acknowledge their presence, probably pissed at himself he was seen bringing in his special perks from the guards. He walked to the door of the incinerator and closed the door. A few minutes passed and the three dispersed and disappeared back into the stone fort. The prisoners knew that Viktor was untouchable and any actions against him would result in immediate death, but as Frank continued his morning run he thought to himself that the rule may no longer be enforceable once the word spread.

Later that evening Viktor returned to his room in the prison, not saying a word to anyone as he passed, no one saying anything back. Frank stood at the railing from the 3^rd level looking down on the atrium of the prison. The whispers, the shifty conversations, the tension was building in the air, Viktor was in trouble and wouldn’t live through the night.

The hours passed, lights went out one by one just like any other night, the sounds of sleep floated up to Frank still leaning against the rail watching, waiting. Perhaps he was overreacting and this would go by as another non-issue, all talk and no actions. Just to be sure he walked down to the 2^nd level past Viktor’s room. He wasn’t going down there to just check on the situation but send a message to the rest that he was watching. A quick pause at the door he could hear the rhythmic snoring of the old man. As he headed back to his room he found no eyes watching him, heard no whispers. He fell asleep quickly.

Screams shattered the silence and ripped Frank from a deep sleep. Shooting out of bed he knew what was happening before he looked down on Viktor’s room. At the rails the entire prison was out watching the latest scene of violence, throwing items down below toward the attackers, some cheering, others screaming to end it. Through the crowd chants Viktor’s voice rang out again, “HELP ME!”

Frank ran toward the stairs, shoving through the others as they came out of their dorms to watch the melee. Those that saw him coming moved on their own knowing that being an obstacle meant a sudden end. He grabbed the rail and in a fluid motion spun down the staircase. At the bottom stood one of the three from the afternoon, John, the bulkier of the group. 

“Easy there tough guy, just a little problem getting worked out, get back up stairs and mind your own business.”, John called up with his hand raised, apparently thinking he had any intimidation toward the man flying down the stairs toward him. Frank grabbed the extended wrist, pulling it toward him with speed and power. John’s burly frame became off balanced but was set back upright with a firm fist to his gut knocking the wind out of him instantly. As he desperately gasped for air, fighting to breathe, he forgot that his hand was still in the grips of a determined man. His arm was spun and twisted behind back, the sound and pain of his elbow snapping made him forget about not being able to breathe. Before Frank released the wrist he placed a swift downward kick to John’s knee, breaking it. 

As John crumpled the floor behind him, with no air to scream out a warning, Frank set his sights on Viktor’s room. Standing in front of the door, with his back to him, stood Willy. The weakest and skinniest of the three. He stood barking out orders to Roger inside Viktor’s room. Between the screams of the prison and his own yelling, Willy never heard Frank approach from behind.

Wrapping around him with his thick, muscular arms, Frank brought Willy’s head down on railing sending off a dull ring. Blood started to pour down the skinny ringleader’s face as he moaned in pain and slumped to the floor. Now at his feet Frank brought back his size 12 boot and swung it across Willy’s jaw ending the moaning.

Viktor’s screams rang out again as Frank jumped over the unconscious, bleeding body of the second man to get in his way. When he reached the door Frank saw Viktor and Roger in a struggle on the floor. The old man was on the bottom, covered in blood, using his remaining strength to hold off the attack. In their hands was some wort of makeshift weapon dripping with blood. A few seconds more and he would have sunk it into the old man’s chest.

As he saw Frank enter the room Viktor called out, “Help me… please.”

Roger glanced over his shoulder to see Frank’s fist coming at his face. He jerked back dodging the blow and letting go of Viktor he jumped to his feet, weapon in hand now pointing at Frank.

“What are you doing in here Frankie boy? This is private business, don’t concern you!”, Roger sneered. 

“Killing an old man for doing nothing to you isn’t what I’d call fair.”

“Fair!? That old man has been stockpiling the good stuff while we in here have to eat scraps. Is that fair? Don’t you want to eat?”

Frank looked down on Viktor who was not holding his side in pain, blood oozing between his fingers. “You kill him, I kill you.”

“You can try tough guy.” Roger chuckled out before he shot across the room aiming the weapon right for Frank’s face. Swinging his left arm out he deflected the thrust and followed with his right fist into Rogers temple sending him spinning to the floor. Frank followed Roger to the floor, grasping onto Roger’s neck and dragging him out the door. Filled with rage and adrenaline he lifted him up with one hand and pinned him against the rail.

Roger flailed and punched at Frank with whatever he had left, each swing the grip on his neck became tighter. A circle of black began to consume his vision. With on last attempt he swung as hard as he could trying to connect his hand carved wood knife into any part of Frank. Instead of slicing through his flesh, he hit what felt like a cement wall, Frank had caught his arm in the air. Quickly letting go of his neck, Frank chopped at Roger’s elbow collapsing his arm and shoving the weapon into his neck.

Without saying a word Frank grabbed onto Roger’s legs and flipped his body over the rail, landing with a thud in the atrium below. The cheers in the prison grew silent and they watched one man take down three of the toughest most, intimating crew in the prison. A few below circled around the body, checking to see if he was in fact dead. In a matter minutes his body was stripped down by the others, his clothes, the weapon pulled from his neck, and anything else of value gone. 

Frank re-entered Viktor’s room to check on the old man locking the door behind him. In the corner propped up against the wall the old man was writhing in pain. He wasn’t a doctor but has seen enough to know how to tend to wounds. Looking at Viktor he knew he was hurt bad, the dark blood was not a good sign. In the Devil’s Nest you prayed that your wounds were deep and fatal, to get a flesh wound in here was a slow painful ordeal which usually ended in an infection followed by death anyway. “Viktor, let me help.” Frank knelt down to Viktor and pulled back his hands to get a look at his wound. The amount of blood was astonishing, it was hard to see how deep the cut was. It had to be cleaned and soon. Looking around the only suitable material were the bedsheets. Ripping several small strips he wetted them in the old sink in the corner. Viktor had managed to get him self to his bed and lay down. 

“Easy there old man, you have to stop moving.” Frank told his as he laid the strips across Viktor’s abdomen. The water and fabric quickly got the blood cleaned up enough to see how bad it was. 

Viktor looked down as Frank pulled the strips away revealing the spot where Roger made his mark, he swore in Russian and looked at Frank, “Son, don’t worry about me. He caught me off guard I was able to stop him before he got me good. This is just a flesh wound, I have had worse.”

Frank wasn’t so optimistic, he has seen his share of stab wounds, most of them he was the deliverer of and to him this looked like the kind you don’t get up from. Regardless of that, he just took on three guys and killed one. They have friends and they will be after him and the old man. He knows they need to stay alive until morning. “Viktor, it’ll be morning in a few hours, we need to stop the bleeding and get you sewn up.”

“Why did you help me Frank? You haven’t said two words to anyone since you got here, why me?”

Frank didn’t know how to answer, he only knew that those the deserve to die should. He looked down at the old man, “Three guys against one old man, don’t seem fair.”

Viktor’s eyes fired up, “Old? Son, I was trained in hell. In my age I could take you out if I wanted.” His over exuberance shot a firestorm of pain through his body sending him into a coughing fit. Every day of his old age was showing now. Frank did his best to calm him down. Viktor continued, “Frank, I know you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been here since the beginning, I have seen all types of men come and go all of them born from Satan’s evil, rotten to the core since the day their were conceived, but you are different. You aren’t like the others, like me. A killer sure, but you don’t kill for pleasure.”

Frank stared into the old man’s eyes, for the first time in his life he met someone that may begin to understand him. Listening him speak was like listening to himself. He knew why. He knew the reasons.

“Frank my boy, you don’t need to be here.”

“Viktor, your wounds need attention.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, you don’t need to be here at The Nest. I can get you off this hell hole.” A grin came across Viktor’s face.

Frank didn’t believe what he just heard. A way to get off this island, this tomb? But how? His mind raced with the possibilities, the experiences, the life he could restart. Viktor’s coughing snapped Frank back to the moment. “How can you get me off this rock?”

“Did you kill all three of them or just the one?”

“Just Roger but I think I may have cracked Willy’s skull, he’s in rough shape. Yhe other one will not be bothering anyone for a while.”

“Ok, listen carefully then. They’ll take the dead and clean them up and get em’ in the coffin. The coffin will stay in the atrium until sunrise to allow mourning, prayers and all the cry baby crap. Follow me?”

Frank nodded but unsure where he was going with this.

“At midnight the tower bell rings to alert the guards there’s a death and the coffin is taken out the edge of the Blood Rock just before sunrise. At first light the guards come, chain up the coffin and take it to me at the incinerator.”

Frank didn’t say anything and let Viktor finish.

“What you need to do is after they take the coffin outside get into the coffin with the body. When the guards deliver it to me, I let you out, put you into a supply crate set for the mainland and in 3 days you are on your own, free.”

“What do I do with the other body? I can’t fit in there with the corpse.”

“The coffins are all made the same size and they are all made big enough to fit garbage, belongs, and other crap they want burned. The guy you killed is small enough you can both get in there with the door closed.”

Frank didn’t like the sound of that, sitting in a small box with a dead body. “But what about the guards, don’t they watch you burn the bodies?”

Viktor hesitantly responded, “That’s the catch. The guards will stay until the furnace is closed and the flames are turned up. But that’s not a problem, I have done this so many times I can get you out and the body back in and burning before the guards notice a change in the smoke stack.”

“How do I get on the boat after?”

Viktor coughed and wheezed his words, “We ship stuff off weekly, the next shipment out is in two days and it’s a one day ride to the mainland. They never look in the boxes. I have a crate with valuables, personal effects from the dead that will be shipped back. You get in there, stay quiet for a day, then bust out when you get to land. After that it’s up to you not to get killed, because they will not recapture you if they find you. They’ll just dump your body overboard or shoot you on site.”

Frank pondered about his proposition then looked over the old man. “Viktor, you are wounded, how do I know you will be out there to get me out?”

“This is nothing, I told you. The bleeding has almost stopped. I’ll sew it up and the safest place I can be is out there. After tonight I will probably have to move out there permanently. This will work. It’s not the first time I have provided help. Trust me.”

Trust was a word that didn’t exist in the Devil’s Nest. Trust got you killed. Frank pondered his life that could be. He could stay in the Devil’s Nest and die, naturally or not, or have a chance to be free away from this place, ready to start a new life.

Viktor could see the uncertainty in Frank’s eyes, “My boy listen to me carefully, you will have to grow eyes in the back of your head now until the end of your days if you stay here. You killed a guy with friends who will be out for blood after tonight no matter the rules. I can be protected, you cannot. That’s the way it is here. Get back to your room, lock yourself in until the bell rings.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, each looking for any sign of deception. Frank grabbed Viktor’s hands and pressed them down hard on his wound and instructed him, “Keep pressure on this. I’ll see you in the morning.”

---  

The sun sunk down past the window draping his room with the oncoming moonless night. All day he laid low locked in his room, listening to the muffled sounds of the others telling stories, laughing and crying for the recently departed. The thoughts of seeing his child again kept his mind off of it, what it will feel like to hug her again, hear her laugh. Anticipating what it will be like to be in her presence outside of a prison visitor’s room.

The hours passed by as he stared at the ceiling mentally preparing for what was to come. Getting out of the prison unseen was easy, he’d done a hundreds of times over the years. Getting into the coffin would be easy too, but how early or close to sunrise should he go. The thought of laying on a body for that long wasn’t sitting well, but it meant freedom and it will be pitch black inside so he wouldn't have to look at him.

Promptly at midnight the tower bell rang out, echoing through the Devil’s Nest, loud enough to raise the dead. Frank got off his cot and slowly went out to the walkway looking down at the atrium floor. To his surprise there was not one but two coffins sitting there. He began to panic. He must have stomped Willy’s face harder than he thought. How will Viktor know which one I am in? 

His heart raced as he watched a group of men carry the wooden boxes out to the Blood Rock one at a time. There was no turning back, if Frank wanted to get off this rock alive now was the time. 

The rest he will have to leave to fate.

With no possessions or mementos he wanted to take from this place, Frank took one last look at his room and headed out toward his freedom. Walking toward the stairs, everyone cleared out of his way. A silence preceded him, not even a slightest whisper could be heard as he passed by. The last thing he wanted to have is the eyes of everyone in the prison on him. Getting outside without raising any further interest meant he had to head away from the front entrance. There was a storage room in the back by the kitchen, he used on occasion to slip away from prior incidents, that had a window. Doubling back Frank finally lost the other’s attention. Waiting a few minutes and convinced he was alone, he sipped out the window into the chilly night.

He made his way to where he could see the two coffins near the Blood Rock. From his vantage point Frank could see a dim light from the guard station slowly get brighter. It’s rhythmic bouncing could only be one thing, guard with a flashlight coming to the Blood Rock. Were they going to take them now? Is he going to chain them up? How would I get in? He watched the uniformed man approach and draw his firearm as he neared the rock. The light scanned the two coffins and the area around. Frank hit the ground flat and lay motionless. 

Minutes seemed like hours as the guard stood there swinging his light across the area. Frank could see that one of the coffins was covered in what appeared to be writings, graffiti, messages from the other inmates. That must be Roger’s that’s covered with messages of ‘respect’ from the others. The second one had nothing. 

The guard did one final scan with his light and turned back toward the station. A sense of relief flooded over Frank as he laid on the cold, wet ground. He watched as the light faded away and finally disappeared. Which one should I get in? It’s possible that Roger had friends with the guards and might open to get one last look. Less attention the better.

Crawling slowly toward the coffins he continually kept an eye on the prison doors, getting caught out here would surly mean death and if he was lucky they would kill him first before tossing him over the cliffs into the sea. The dark, moonless night was both an advantage and a hinderance, but if he couldn’t see, no one could see him either. 

When he reached the coffin he ran his hands over the cover, the rusty hinges in place, no sign of a lock. Slowly lifting up the lid the hinges lets out a little creak stopping him immediately. Looking around one last time to make sure he wasn’t being watched he quickly flung open the cover and crawled inside. The shadow of the body inside sent a chill down his spine. Thank God it’s pitch black out here. Laying down inside Frank shoved the body over the most he could and closed the lid on top of them. Blackness.Now it’s up to Viktor.

---

Waiting for freedom, laying on top of a man he killed, Frank tried to think of anything he could to pass the time. Dreaming on what his daughter would look like 6 years later and working out his plan on how he’s going to get off the boat kept him focused. 

Finally in the distance he could hear the muffled conversation and the rattling of chains as the guards approached. From the sounds there must be 6 guards, maybe more. With every muscle cramping, he became perfectly still, silent. There was no room for error at this point only certain death, no questions or explanations. As the coffin started to get lifted, the rattling of the chains being thrown around the box and the lock being snapped in place was bone chilling. Frank could hear one of the guards say something that made his heart skip a beat in fear.

“This guy is one fat bastard. Why is this thing so heavy?” Those words shot an image of the guards stopping and opening up to take a look inside. 

Another guard jumped in, “Toughen up girly, they probably filled it with all this guys crap that wasn’t worth diddly. We’re almost there, quit being a Sally and pick up the pace.” 

The dull, hum of the furnace grew louder as they approached.Almost there. With a hard thud the coffin was set down on the furnace rail, the force threw Frank’s face against the dead body’s. The guards unlocked the chains and dragged them off as quick as they could. The moment the last chain link scraped off Frank felt a sudden rush of movement then a slam as the furnace door was closed behind him. Here we go. The rush of the burners firing to life pulled the air out of his lungs, the heat was felt instantly. A few more seconds to go. 

Sweat started to run down stinging his eyes. How much longer?The heat from below was getting stronger, smoke swirled around burning his nostrils. Concern blossomed into panic. Where is he? 

Frank tried to lift the cover open but was only able to move it an inch before hitting the top. The flames started to lick through the cracks each time he banged on the top. The walls now were too hot to the touch and he could feel his shoes melting. Frantically he banged on all sides as best he could being jammed next to the body.   

One last effort was with every ounce of killing strength Frank rammed his fist up on the cover. The fire had weakened the wood enough his hand burst through, splintering the charred coffin lid. All he could see was the burners and in the corner of his eye the iron furnace door closed. Trying to call out for Viktor only filled his lungs with putrid, toxic fumes. The flames had penetrated the interior, the heat was now unbearable. His hair singed, his clothes smoking, the wood now in fully engulfed in flames Frank looked around for anything that might save him or signal that he was in there. Instead, illuminated by the encroaching flames, he found his fate. 

Now illuminated by the roaring fire Frank stared at the face he was sharing fate with. Staring back with a lifeless gaze was Viktor.

Short Story - Love Created

She was the most beautiful women he knew. Always there to listen, Ronald Casey's life is complete when she's around. 

===================

She was exquisite, a woman of pure creation. Golden shoulder length hair framing the soft, pink skin of her face. Brilliant green eyes bursting with a sparkle that memorizes anyone near. Full, gloss covered lips glimmering in the light, hiding behind was a smile that can make all the woes disappear in an instant. The rest of her curves down to her ruby red polished toes made her all woman. All the fantastic features, gifts, beauties and she was with him. Ronald Casey, a man in his mind, that did not deserve to be in her presence. 

In a time of his life where nothing seemed to be going his way, when it appeared life couldn’t get any darker, she appeared and brought light back to his life. She was there for him, to listen to him, to make him feel normal and secure. A woman that he could finally talk to without feeling awkward and one that would listen without judgement. Through all the hours of him talking about life her smile is all he needed in return. She didn’t need to say anything.

Sitting in his small, cramped office cube, taking tech support calls from screaming people all day only made him desire more seeing her again, talk to her again, or just gaze into her emerald eyes again. Ronald felt better about himself she was around. 

The moments in his life leading up to her arrival were not easy. The slow, degrading health of his mother then her eventual death hit him hard. His father abandoned them when Ronald was young, never came back, never reached out so it was just him and his mother. She was his only real friend so when he watched her deteriorate away there was no one to lean on, to talk to, to cry with. After she passed away he was truly alone.  

If he wasn’t talking about his home life it was school years which was a horrible experience. The bullying, the tormenting, the lack of friends made it the worst part of his life. He wasn’t built for sports, didn’t have the social skills for clubs, rejected by his classmates, so he focused on his school work and taking care of his mother. He was an outcast. However, getting these out in the open was like they never happened. A wink and a smile is all it took and he knew she understood and that’s what mattered.

This day was particularly tough, the office environment was beginning to feel like the school yard again. Co-workers ridiculing him, whispers behind his back, his boss always criticizing his performance. When he got home she was there waiting for him to listen and just seeing her there made him feel better. 

As the day draws to a close she begins to leave for the night. Ronald prepares her departure and says goodbye. She returns the gesture with a playful grin and blows him a kiss. Her hair floats in the air as she turns to walk away, hips slowly bouncing back and forth with each step. Ronald fills with joy and satisfaction as he watches the most beautiful women he knows fade away already looking forward to tomorrow. 

His 50” LCD monitor flickers off as he hits a few keystrokes to shut the rest of the system down. The hum of the computers go silent. The monitor now black. Ronald sits and stares at the blank monitor in deep thought about her. Leaning his 330 pound frame back in his ergonomic chair he says out loud with a lonely tone, “Maybe tomorrow I will give you a voice.”

My First eBook Project - Perspectives: The Emerald Event

Geek to Author is all about the journey of an IT Security expert into fiction writing. Up to this point I have been working on the craft of writing by working on short stories. Very few I have released to the public, I will be changing that. Ultimately the goal is to write a novel or two or ten. To make that goal and do it the way I want to I need to start small and work up, getting better at each step.

In the spirit of chronicling the journey I will do something a little different and detail out my project before I start working on it. The idea for this project is create a hybrid of a collection of short stories and a full length novel. I am calling this project and potential ongoing series Perspectives. This will not be episodic stories and it's not a random collection of short stories rather an interconnected collection of view points around a central theme.

A full length novel focuses on a set of characters that all flow, for the most part, from start to the end. Throughout that story other sub-characters and sub-plots will be encountered but their branches have to be trimmed and ended quickly as to not take away from the core of the novel. In a short story you have the restriction of length to not allow for deep development of the character's emotional states, relationships, or extensive backgrounds. Perspectives will attempt to merge the two in a unique and fun way where the reader will get the breadth of a large novel subject but in small slices.

The other aspect that I want Perspectives to address is how people read books today. Whether you like it or not, people are not sitting around by the fireplace consuming large novels in mass quantity anymore. Occasionally you get the viral explosions like 50 Shades of Gray, Hunger Games, Harry Potter, but those are far and few between. I don't think in this age of information people truly read enough anymore. One reason is the fast and furious lifestyle we have in our society and people are put off and discouraged to not read because of the effort and time involved. Perspectives is designed to change that. Even though Perspectives will have a novel's worth of subject matter and content, the actual stories are broken up into individual stories that are not interconnected. Meaning that you can read any story, at any time, in any order... except the last one (I'll explain in a second.) Each story's length will be less than 75 pages on purpose to allow the story to be read, consumed and enjoyed in a short time. The only connection between the stories will be a much larger, encompassing event and each story is a unique perspective that normally would never be addressed in a flowing novel.

Then if you are a commuter and only can read for that 30 to 60 minutes a day, 20 minutes in bed before you go to sleep, this is the majority of reader's style now. A 500 page novel is hard to consume and keep the details in your head over the several weeks it may take for you to consume it. The feeling, the flow, and the reader's connection to the book is lost. Wouldn't be much easier to be able to get through 50 page story, walk away with one perspective point instead of trying to keep 30 characters straight as well as all the interconnected plot points? I think so.

The first is tentatively called  Perspectives: The Emerald Event. Every situation and details discovered are slightly different depending on your perspective.  

Here is the tentative titles of Perspectives: The Emerald Event stories, there may be another or two added depending how long these are. The goal is to have a standard 400-600 pages, novel length.

• 60 Minutes
• Business Class
• Streaks To The Heavens
• Family Values
• City Dwellers
• Preppers
• Safari
• POTUS

The last nugget and fun part to Perspectives is that each story has a 'clue' or 'piece of the puzzle' in them. Because it's designed for quick reading enjoyment, the reader only needs to remember the piece instead of a stream of character names, places, details that can be easily lost over time. This also allows the stories to stand on their own and can be read in any order. However, the last story in Perspectives will be the climax that will bring all the pieces together and wrap up the story, much like a novel's final chapters.

For example, let's say there is an attack on the United States. One perspective may be from downtown of a city when the sirens blare. What would they see? How would they react? What would the attack look like? Are bombs dropping or is it a troop invasion? Another perspective could be from a missile silo complex, you might learn about who or where to send the missiles. One perspective could be from 40,000 in a plane flying above the country seeing what's happening below. What would they do, where would they go, what else is in the sky with them? The climax story could be in the Situation Room of the White House detailing out exactly what's going on, you may assume as a reader that it's World War 3 with the Russians or China, but what if something else was going on that is completely aligned with the pieces of the puzzle but the final picture is nothing what you thought. That's Perspectives.

I thought about releasing the stories as I complete them but have decided to keep them all together so it will be  a while before I get all these written and ready for released in eBook format that I will self publish through Amazon's Publishing Service. This is the first real production of Geek To Author and I am really excited about it. I have no idea if this will work but I think it's a unique idea specifically targeted for today's style of readers. The subject matter may not be for everyone, but if it works Perspectives can be applied to any situation.

Enjoy.

Time to turn the page.

Short Story - The 13th Floor

A man's war with the number 13.

==================

I am not superstitious. The company decided to put everyone together and the 13th floor is what was open. Perhaps they purposely built this floor out last, because who would want to start on the 13th floor if they didn’t have to? There is nothing I can do about it, this is where my cube was moved to and I guess I must do as I am told. So what, it’s just a number. How much harm can a number do? Then again, with so many people fearful of 13, maybe there is something to all the talk?

Day in and day out I come to the office, pass through the security turnstiles, and walk past the first bank of elevators thinking about how nice it was to work on the 6th floor. Reminiscing the days of only having to worry about the task at hand and not the terrible shadow that looms over our heads now on the 13th floor. There was no reason to worry about 6. 

As I walk, images of me rebelling, going back to my old desk and working there, making a stand, getting the work done, what could they possibly do? Drag me back up to 13? There is no reason where I get my work done should be important, there is no reason it has to be on the 13th floor. Why can’t it be back on the 6th floor or 8th? 

As time goes on the mind starts to recognize patterns in your surroundings. Subtle changes that go unnoticed by most, but I started to see them. 13 starts to have its way with you and it’s power starts to show itself. Pretty soon that its not just the 13th floor that holds that title but things within as well. There is no way it could be coincidences, no possible explanation other than the power of 13 is ever reaching. There are 13 steps it takes to get from my cube to the bathroom door. To fill up my coffee cup takes 13 seconds. If you don’t count the top step there are 13 stairs down to the 12th floor. There are 13 thumbtacks on my bulletin board. There are 13 pennies in my change jar. The more I look the more I see 13 consuming me from every direction. For what purpose? What could it mean? How can it be so obvious to someone who is not superstitious?  There is a message that is trying to be told to me but I don’t know what. 

My co-worker's infection is obvious. The way they glance in my direction, the whispers behind your back, the behavior change when you come around. It gradually eats away at you. Counting out loud 13 this and 13 that. You can’t escape from it.

Eventually you have to scratch the itch before it drives you mad. 

I decided to fight back against the 13th floor. I was going to destroy it before it consumed me. I spent 13 weeks planning and plotting. It had to be perfect, there was no room for error. Waiting until the most powerful day of the month where 13 was it’s most potent, a Friday. The next Friday the 13th occurred in August, the 8th month. It wasn’t the 13th month, there is no such thing, but if you add 5 to 8 you get 13. Its grasp was tightening, I had to move quickly.

With the 13 bricks I acquired I proceeded to the basement of my office building. Carefully setting up the solution, wiring everything together, I set the timer to 13 minutes. You can only kill 13 with itself. 13 demolition level bricks of explosives set to 13 minutes on Friday the 13th. Heading out of the building I counted 13 lightbulbs, 13 plants, 13 stains on the windows, 13 times I counted the tiles. It knew it was in trouble and was fighting back. 

I retreated to the most obvious location to witness 13’s demise, the corner of 1st and 3rd. Together they made 13. The anxiously waited for the minutes to countdown. Closer and closer. Then the ground shook as the 13 bricks exploded, loosening the foundation, shattering the glass, and bringing the building down in a cloud of dust and with it the 13th floor. 

A sense of calm settled over me. It was gone. I was free.

That’s when I glanced at my watch and screamed out in horror when I saw the time... 13:13.

Short Story - Temporal Enforcers

A 70 year old former Nazi scientist with the assistance of a young computer genius complete a time machine to fulfill his life long ambition to change the world. However, the new time travelers discover what really keeps the universe in order.

=============================================

Dr. Zach Robertson looked at his watch like an excited child. Some people say he was still a child, but the 26 year old genius showed the adults what that child could do when he received his doctorate in quantum physics at the age of 15. Through all the lectures, studying, lab work he has spent in his short life, patience was one trait he has yet to master. The past three and half hours he has been watching 74 year old German scientist Dr. Franz Kaufmann sit at his oversized oak desk working on his numbers. Silently calculating the answers with a simple pencil and his old leather notebook, turning to a new page and doing them all over again. Millions of dollars worth of state of the art quantum computing equipment that could deliver the answer in nanoseconds and the old fashioned doctor preferred to do it himself. 

The truth was Dr. Kaufmann didn’t need a computer, he could do any and every calculation in his head and give the correct answer every time. Zach would throw him an equation for quantum positions at a specific moment in time and Dr. Kaufmann would sit at his desk tilt his head back, close his eyes and make an eerie humming sound. When he was finished, which could be minutes or hours, he would lean forward and give you the correct answer along with a dozen more problems new solutions for each of those and the equations for each. Genius is not a strong enough word to describe him. He came from circumstances and a time in history you Zach didn’t understand. Dr. Kaufmann didn’t have the luxury to rely on anything more than his mind. No computers, no calculators, no slide rules, just him and the correct answer or deal with the penalties.

Being a young intellect in 1938 Germany you had two choices. You could do the work they told you to do for the fatherland or flee and hope you survive. Dr. Kaufmann wanted to flee but he couldn’t abandon his ailing mother so he was taken by the Nazis to apply his vast intellect on advanced research. 7 years he worked in secret, taken away from his friends, schoolmates, and his mother whom he never saw again. At the end of the war he fled with a few handful of other top Nazi scientists into the hands of the Allies, trading his life for his work. Only able to grab what they could carry, Dr. Kaufmann took a leather bound notebook and kept it hidden from the Americans. Every thought, formula and number went into that notebook. He used it as a reminder of where he came from and made it his prime motivation to finish what he started 60 years ago and change the world.

Every young scientist wants to change the world. Through action, knowledge or a mix of both Zach too was one of those forward thinking brilliant intellectuals. Quantum computing was his gift. Processing larger and larger numbers, faster and faster. When he was 12 years old he wrote a paper modifying Einstein's Theory of Relativity and laid out the theoretical level of quantum computing necessary to break the space-time code for controlled time travel. Laughed off by the scientific world as a fantasy of a young punk kid, when Dr. Kaufmann read his theses he was not laughing. On his 16th birthday he approached Zach Robertson on the campus of MIT and offered to fund, help to build and test his theory with one caveat, he could tell no one.  Reluctant at first, Zach agreed and the past 10 years the two worked on bringing his theory on Quantum Positioning to life.

Zach stared at his watch, the minutes ticked away. Five hours. The anticipation finally overtook him and he broke the only rule Dr. Kaufmann ever gave to him, never interrupt him when he’s writing in his notebook. “Dr. Kaufmann, the computer array next to you have already crunched the numbers billions of times over since you have been sitting there. We are ready.”

The pencil continued to move across the page as Dr. Kaufmann cleared his throat with a disciplinary tone, “My dear boy, computers are nothing more than plastic and screws, they do what they are told and nothing more. The flaw with them is they cannot feel the numbers like the human mind can.”

They were too close to start another academic argument in the capabilities of quantum computing to the analytical power of the human mind. The same capabilities, plastics and screws that brought them to this day and will have to be relied upon whether he likes it or not. Suppressing every urge to respond he turned to the terminals and started to power up the machine. The hum of millions of volts flowing to the machine resonated off the walls.

Dr. Kaufmann set his pencil down, stood up and walked over handing Zach the notebook. “Dr. Robertson, if you break my thought process again I may have to start all over.”

He dreaded that thought and responded humbly, “I apologize sir, I am just anxious. We have spent a tremendous amount of time on this and we are so close.”

A sly grin grew across Dr. Kaufmann's face as he tapped his finger on the notebook, “Not to worry my dear boy, once you get these calculations entered, time will no longer be a variable we have to worry about.”

In the center of the all concrete room stood an orb, 10 feet tall, wrapped with interweaving cables, held in place by large steel beams attached to the floor and ceiling the machine looked larger than it was. A small hatch, just big enough for someone to crawl into was the only way inside. A blue aura bled out of the interior illuminating Dr. Kaufmann as he pulled an apple from his coat pocket and placed in the center of the orb’s floor closing the hatch before stepping away. 

Zach, standing behind a table of keyboards and monitors called out, “Dr. Kaufmann, we have reached full power. Ready for the first trial.” He began to enter the sequences, his fingers moving across the keyboard with speed and precision of a concert pianist. “I am entering target coordinates for this room, 6 feet from the machine, target time plus 2 minutes. Firing!” The low hum turned into a high screech that echoed off the walls, the blue glow turned to a blinding white light spilling through the seams of the orb’s hatch filling the room. Seconds later a concussion pulse exploded off the orb knocking the two scientists back. Then silence.

Neither said a word as they adjusted their footing, they just stared at the machine, each trying to comprehend what they just did. 

“Dr. Kaufmann, are you alright?”, Zach asked his old mentor in a somber tone.

The aged scientist said nothing as he stared at the data on the monitors.

Zach scanned through the recorded data and with relief he said, “I have a confirmed anchor. According to this the apple arrived intact, exactly two minutes into the future from launch.” Before he could finish his thought the room exploded with a flash of blue light like a lightning bolt. A piercing electrical sound shot through the room. Sitting 6 feet from the orb was the apple.

Dr. Kaufmann quickly walked over and examined the fruit. If was sitting there in the same perfect condition as it was when he placed in the orb 2 minutes ago. “Dr. Robertson, son, the anchor is intact, yes? You have tried to explain it to me the best you can in the past, but remind me why do we need it?”

Zach was taken back by the inquiry, shocked that Dr. Kaufmann is asking him a question. He took a brief moment to soak in the rare feeling . Zach cleared his throat and began to educate the smartest man on the planet. “Working on the theory of infinite dimensions of space-time, once you leave the current dimension you could end up at one of infinite destinations. As soon as you arrive you have already changed the space-time continuum just by your departure from on and presence in another. This makes it quite difficult for you to return back to your original space-time location since it technically, from your point of view, it no longer exists. The orb re-calibrates your sub-atomic particles’ quantum combination which relates to the location in space-time where you want to go. All the particles in your body are modified except except one, what I call the anchor. As your body moves through space-time the anchor remains in the continuum where you left and acts as a bridge or quantum link between the two dimensions so you can return back from where you came from. The quantum array here is calculating billions of equations a second to maintain that bridge. Without the anchor you will be sent through time with no reference to get back.”

Dr. Kaufmann nodded understandably.

“Right now in the orb there is a single sub-atomic particle for the apple. As the apple moves around in both space and time in this dimension we can keep a link here to bring it back. Let me show you.”

Zach took a bite from the apple, juices dripped down his chin as he walked over and placed back on the lab floor. Wiping his hands dry on his lab coat, his fingers moved across the keyboard. Another flash of blue light exploded from where the apple sat. A split second later the orb was engulfed in a shower of white light. Dr. Kaufmann climbed up, opened the hatch and siting inside was the half eaten apple.

“The anchor allows us to get back here and bring the dimension of change with us.”

Over the next several hours the two temporal scientists, as they now referred to themselves as, worked diligently running calculations, sending the apple back and forth through time in preparation for Dr. Kaufman’s lifelong goal to be realized. When the 42nd test was complete, Zach's personal inside joke with the number 42 always confused Dr. Kaufmann, they were both looking down at the now brown, rotting apple. Dr. Kaufmann leaned over, “My dear boy, power up the field to maximum. I am ready to leave.”

Without hesitation Zach ran over to the power circuits and one by one flipped them all on. A low rumble grew louder and louder, the generator vibrations could be felt through their bones. Dr. Kaufmann walked over to his desk and picked up his old leather notebook. Caressing his old friend he opened the book slowly ripping away the inside cover. Looking as if it were still new he removed an ID card with a much younger looking photo of him staring back at him. The ID was from his work on the top secret Uranvierein, the German equivalent of the Manhattan Project. A grin began to grow across Dr. Kaufmann’s face as he slid the ID card into his coat pocket and headed toward the time machine. "Zach my boy, set the coordinates for 1943 Germany. Put me outside Berlin, I don't want to end up in a wall of a building."

After entering the final sequencing Zach went over to assist Dr. Kaufmann into the machine. He called out his final instructions, “Dr. Kaufmann, once I close this latch the field around the orb’s field will be at full power. I will not be able to stop the powering sequence we must go otherwise you may not survive if we try to stop it.”

Dr. Kaufmann grinned, “I'm counting on it.”

Zach closed the hatch. A feeling of dread came over him. What if we are off? All the tests, numbers, re-tests were successful. In his mind he was confident the machine would work. After all, they never had one failed test, the apple never turned into a fireball or a pile of applesauce, their machine worked. It was something else, a different sense about an unknown. This was science and with any true breakout science there are risks, now was no different. But it didn’t matter, because very soon Dr. Kaufmann will be entering WWII Germany to end the war, change the world.

The automatic timer began to audibly countdown the final 10 seconds. Overwhelming anticipation and anxiety filled Zach’s mind. Sweat poured down his face stinging his eyes, his body flushed with heat as the the monotoned computer voice called out, “3…2…1…”

Consumed by the moment Zach was caught off guard by the explosion of white light overloading his vision. The concussion wave was the strongest yet, at full power he was not expecting the force. Blind and off balance the pulse threw him against the wall knocking the wind out of him. Monitors fell over, loose papers flew through the air like snow. The ghostly orbs hung in his eyes as he gasped to get the air back into his lungs. His whole body ached as he tried to stand up. Using the nearby stool as a support crutch Zach got to his feet and over to the control panel.

Zach screamed in agony as he started at the displays. Scrambled numbers, blank entries, and what he dreaded, no anchor. Nothing was there, no anchor, no stasis field, no confirmation code. Scenarios flew through his head as he frantically hammered on the keyboards. Was it the concussion wave? Too much power, not enough power? Did I enter everything in correctly?

Everything was perfect. No anomalies, nothing spiked, green lights across the system. What the hell happened? Where is he? Zach scanned through all the data looking for anything to find out what went wrong. At the bottom of the trail he found the lines he was looking for.

TRANSPORT COMPLETE

SUBJECT ARRIVAL CONFIRMED - OCTOBER 15, 1943 52.388382, 13.331909

ANCHOR ESTABLISHED AND STABLE

&$129$##@#!!98561938

&&&&####$$$$FAULT$$$$####&&&

99999999999999999999999999999999999

ANCHOR POSITION INFINITE

ANCHOR LOST

A wave of relief overcame him see that Dr. Kaufmann arrived and apparently intact. The question now was how to get him back and what was 'ANCHOR POSITION INFINITE'? The last 10 years spent building the machine, writing the code, testing the algorithms and the creator did not know what his creation was telling him. How was it possible for the anchor's position to be infinite? Where did it go? More questions than answers spun intermixed with the thoughts on Dr. Kaufmann's fate, trapped in the past with no way back.

37 hours of no sleep and running his mind at full throttle Zach's body was becoming an obstacle. He lost feeling in his feet hours ago and his hands were no longer cooperating to his mental commands. The drive to save his mentor, his friend was too much to stop now. 24 successful full power tests of the machine using anything he could find around the lab proved it was not the machine.

One thing continued to stick out in his mind as he prepared the machine for final time, what did Dr. Kaufmann mean that he was counting on not being able to be taken out of the orb? Did he intend it as safety net knowing I may try to stop him from going or was it something else? Knowing Dr. Kaufmann, he meant something and had everything down to the second planned out, calculated, anticipated. But did he anticipate getting cutoff and trapped? Did he plan on this all along?

Zach entered the same coordinates to where he sent Dr. Kaufmann. Thinking he can get to him before he disappears into Germany. He was about to send himself to a time and place familiar to the German scientist but completely unknown and potentially dangerous to an American from the future. All the preparations were in place and as he began to walk toward the glowing orb he stopped in his tracks and laughed out loud. Almost two days of no sleep has taken its toll. Why try to chase him down when I can stop him from going in the first place. He headed back to the control panel he changed the target from 1938 Germany to 48 hours ago a few feet from the orb.

After spending years building every part of the machine it was not apparent until now, as Zach climbed inside and closed the hatch, how claustrophobic it was. The sound of the hum grew louder louder as the system prepared to fire. The light intensity grew to almost intolerable levels, even squinting his eyes the brightness was painful. Vibrations ran through his legs, harder and harder, a sense of electricity flowed over his skin. What was I going to say to myself? What would they say to me? Why didn’t I appear before?The paradoxical what-ifs screamed through his mind. 

The high screech was louder inside his machine, vision exploding in a fireworks display of streaking whites and blues. Peeling away at the speed of light his molecules begin to change. The sensation was of both excruciating pain and complete euphoria. Through the jets of light the walls of the orb shattered away, blackness now surrounded him, everything seemed to stop. No time, no space, no body, no mind.

A single spec of white light, clearer than any he has ever seen before, appeared in the distance. Hanging in front of him for what seemed like years, suspension changed to a sense of movement. Heading toward the light, closer and closer, he tried to move a body that was in a billion pieces, nothing. The light drew closer, larger, more brilliant. It began to consume everything around him. Just as Zach thought he was about to collide with it, blackness.

The splitting headache told Zach that his body was intact. Every muscle felt like it was new, never used. An unexplored side effect of traveling perhaps, next time they will use talking apples he thought. If this is how it is, from the pain, Zach didn’t think Dr. Kaufmann could take it in is feeble old body.

A faded voice echoed in his head, “Dr. Robertson…”

It was too painful to open his eyes. Maybe he was hallucinating. Did all my neurons get put back together exactly how they were? So many questions, so much pain. He had to get up, find out where he was. Slowly he cracked open his eyes. The blaring white light has subsided for a cool yellow glow. Realizing he was sprawled out on a floor, he mustered up his strength and got to a sitting position. Expecting to be in his lab, the floor did not feel like poured concrete but more like glass. Forcing through the pain he forced opened his eyes wide and all around he saw reflections of himself. In all directions, on the floor, up on the ceiling. There were no visible lights yet the room was fully lit. The entire interior was one big mirrored surface. A view of infinity in all directions.

Ignoring the pain firing through his body he shot to his feet. The disorientation of looking into the reflections of himself didn’t make the headache any better. He started walking forward with his had extended, looking for the edge. He walked some more, then a little farther, but his hand never reach the wall. His reflection looks like it’s right in front, inches away, no farther than his bathroom mirror. Zach started to walk a little faster, still waiting to reach the edge of this infinity room. A sense of urgency turned into a full sprint of panic. All directions not matter how fast or far he seemed to run he never slammed into a wall, no edge, the reflections never changed positions. At full speed it appeared as if he were running in place.

Out of breath Zach, his agonizing body forced him to stop. Hunched over he tried to fend off fear induced hyperventilation. Sweat poured down his face, pain shot through his body, fright flew through his bones. This was obviously not his lab. As he was about to take off in a another marathon sprint a booming voice filled the room.

“Dr. Robertson.”

Zach remained cautiously quiet.

The voice returned, “Dr. Robertson, if you are able, please respond.”

Respond with what and to whom? Who was this person? How did he know my name? Where the hell was he? He responded the only why an analytical scientist could, “Respond with what answer? There was no question.” 

“How are you physically?”

Panic began to retake Zach, his breathing grew shallow. "Who are you! Where am I? Where is Dr. Kaufmann?"

A calmer tone responded, “Dr. Robertson, I assure you all your questions will be answered. You are alive and safe. We need to ensure your physical health is intact. How do you feel?”

Zach’s focus returned to his head, pounding with every heartbeat. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.” The room’s yellow glow began to pulsate and a fog formed around him. A thick, milky cloud appeared from nowhere and slowly rose up, swirling around his body. He tried to remain calm, knowing that running wouldn’t get him anywhere he screamed out, "What are you doing!".

“Please remain calm, this will not harm you, try to breathe normally."

Trust was the only option. Taking deep breaths the pressure in his head began to subside, the muscles stopped spasming, his aches disappeared. Within seconds he felt better than he has had in months, he wasn’t hungry, no more muscle pains, no longer exhausted.

“How are you feeling now Dr.?”

"I feel better." Zach held back that he has never felt this good. Reborn. Not a single ache in his body. Whatever he just was exposed to was a sign of good faith, he was still alive, but deep down he felt he couldn't trust the voice. The room's glow dimmed and the fog quickly dissipated. His rejuvenated body became clear again, reflecting back at him reminding Zach of the situation. “OK, now that my physical health is intact it’s time for you to answer my questions."

"Remain still.”, the voice commanded. The room’s reflections began to twitch and bubble like boiling water. All around him appeared to melt away, pouring down like a waterfall. The once solid mirror was dripping away making the reflections look like a carnival funhouse. Faster and faster it flowed away. The reflectivity was not as clear, the mirrored material looking now like a metal mud.

The last melted drops passed by Zach's face. Watching it fall to his feet the gray liquid spread out and disappeared into the floor. Taking in his surroundings, he was stunned at the sheer immensity of his position. He was not standing in the middle of lab or any normal room but a place he could only relate to as a large sports stadium. A silver, hexagon patterned dome stretched high over his head, higher than any place he has been to before. Around the entire base of the dome were glowing yellow orbs, slowly pulsating, they seemed to be hundreds of yards away. Standing in the middle would make anyone feel small and insignificant.

A white line of light appeared in the floor stretching off toward the edge. Breaking through the silence the voice returned, "Please follow the path."

He started walking and for the first time in his life he had no idea what he was walking into. A lifetime of of mathematics, computers, analytics was working against him. There were no answers, no plan, no goals, nothing to prepare him for what he was heading toward. It felt as if hours passed, the more he walked it didn't seem like the edge lights were getting any closer. There were no alternatives to following a white line on the floor because a voice told him to do so. Zach kept his focus on the orb's glow and kept at his quick pace. The rhythmic sounds of his steps were becoming hypnotic.

The end of the illuminated path suddenly became more brilliant. It made Zach squint as he looked toward it. He realized that it was the opening of a door. One that contained the silhouette of a figure in the doorway. Zach quickened his stride, now there was much more than an anonymous voice, a person waiting for him. He wanted to break out into a run but still cautious about who he was walking toward. The closer he got the more defined the figure became. He or she appeared to be a slender individual, maybe the bright back light was playing tricks on his perception, but the figure was the most slim frame he has ever seen. Zach thought to himself that the door didn't contain a person but something else. As this distance to the door narrowed Zach's steps slowed, fear of the unknown again retook his ability think straight. When he reached the door and the figure came into clear focus Zach came to a dead stop. Standing before him was indeed a figure, but this was no human.

Two arms, two legs, a toroso and a head but this creature was well over 8 feet tall, by his estimation,the body was no thicker than his arm. A skin with the color and appearance like a shark's skin covered the entire body. There were no clothes, unless this was some sort of body suit Zach thought. The hands and feet were as long and slender as the body. He stood there staring, not know what he was looking at or even what to say. The head of the creature was magnificant, the front was a large black dome covering most of his head. At first he thought it looked like the visor to a helmet, but the more he gazed and watching the body language of the stare back from the creature he realized he was staring at an eye.

The creature took a step toward Zach its long, slender arm extended as to shake his hand, "Dr. Robertson I presume. It's a pleasure to know you are feeling better after your journey. I apologize for the discomfort. I would like to introduce myself, my name is Quarnit I am the administrator."

Zach took a step back to avoid the outreached hand, "Administrator of what?"

Quarnit withdrew his approach and replied, "I am the administrator of space and time. I always personally welcome the new arrivals, I feel it lessens the impact of their new reality."

"What do you mean new reality?”

The long, slim arm motioned down the corridor, "Dr. Robertson, please come with me. I will explain everything." The creature called Quarnit began to walk, the slender frame appeared to flow effortlessly. Every few steps he would turn around and motion for Zach to follow. With no other recourse Zach reluctantly followed.

As they traversed down the hallway Zach's analytical mind was recalculating everything about the time jump. Every setting, calculation, dial position, voltage level, looking for some anomaly to explain his current situation. Quantum combination will bypass space and time to reconfigure the subject into the past. It's such a simple concept Zach kept hammering into his head. Why can't I come up with an answer that explains arriving in the middle of an arena the size of 20 city blocks?

Quarnit stopped and turned to Zach. "Dr. Robertson, you will now receive your answers." The long fingers slid down the side of the wall, a chirping sound filled the hallway. Before Zach's eyes the seamless, smooth wall showed the outline of a doorway. The entrance slowly opened, Zach wondered what other new creatures would await him. Instead, standing before him was Dr. Kaufmann. An explosion of emotion flowed over him as he embraced him as a child would hug a beloved grandfather.

Dr. Kaufmann used all his strength not to fall over from his young partner's grip. "My dear boy, it's good to see you again. I am pleased you are alright."

Zach pulled away and looked Dr. Kaufmann in the eye and with a demanding tone, "What the hell happened? Where are we?"

Before Dr. Kaufmann could respond the creature called Quarnit began to speak behind them. "Dr. Kaufmann does not have the answers you seek, he insisted to wait for your arrival."

Zach perplexed asked, "How did you know I was coming here Dr.? I don't even know where this is."

The old Dr. had his trademark grin cross his face, "My dear boy, I knew you were not going to let this go. I had faith you were going to find out how to get to me."

"I am sorry to keep repeating myself, but I have no idea where this is. I don't know how I got here. I have no idea how we can get home."

Quantir interjected, “Gentlemen, if I may. I have all the answers you are looking for."

Zach and Dr. Kaufmann stopped their brief banter and looked at their host. Dr. Kaufmann motioned toward Quantir, "You may continue with your explanations, start with who you are and where we are."

Quantir entered the small oval room and with another swipe of his fingers the doorway sealed behind him. "I am the administrator of space and time. Here we monitor the integrity of the two and ensure that universal stability is maintained. If we detect an infraction we intercept and prevent those from occurring. Here we keep the universe together."

Zach's impatience got the better of him, "Where is here?"

"You are at the nexus of space and time. The two are fabrics, flowing in close proximity to each other but not directly connected. You can manipulate space independent of time and cheat time in space. Two rivers flowing over each other but never merging. Where you are now is the only place where space and time intersect. This is infinity. This is why I can speak your language, have knowledge of you, have answers to everything. Here there is no space, there is no time. The entire universe, all dimensions, exist here simultaneously."

Dr. Kaufmann closed his eyes and started to hum.

Quantir continued, "Here we monitor the fabrics so they do not destroy each other as they have before."

"What do you mean, before?”, Zach interjected.

"In your terminology you know this event as the Big Bang. That moment as not the birth of the universe, that event was a catastrophic breakdown of space and time. It was a cascading failure, crushing both fabrics down to a single point, reverting them back to a neutral state. Unfortunately it destroyed everything else with it, all living species, all planets, in all dimensions. Everything except for the creatures that caused the breakdown.”

Dr. Kaufmann stopped rocking and with the most forceful voice Zach has ever hear him use, "You brought us here. You interjected yourself into our project. We are not here by accident, are we?"

Quantir replied, "Correct, we brought you here."

"But why?", Dr. Kaufmann rebutted.

"You and Dr. Robertson were going to threaten the integrity of the space time fabric. Your actions were going to start a chain reaction that over time would lead to a breakdown. In order to protect that, we brought you here like all violators."

"Violators? Violators of what? What laws? How are we supposed to know?”, Zach screamed.

 Quantir continued, “With the knowledge of time travel there is an inherit challenge of the paradox. Overcoming that paradoxical obstacle is vital, as you know, to unlock that secret and achieve what you have. That alone you understand the dangers. Your anchor allows for dimensions to interweave, this is where the breakdown occurs. This is why you have never heard of a time traveler arriving in the past. When they try, we stop it and bring them here for the protection of the universe. You and Dr. Robertson's actions were to change and create your own version of history. Dr. Kaufmann delivering the knowledge of nuclear weaponry to the Nazis to win World War II. Dr. Robertson altering the events around the experiment. ” 

 Zach shot a look of extreme disgust toward his mentor. "Is this what you meant by changing the world? You were going to help the Nazis win?”

 The old doctor responded, "I wanted to change the world, the world would have been a cleaner place if we had completed out work.” 

 Quantir's tone drew heavy of disappointment, "Gentlemen, this is why you are here. This is where you will stay." The slender frame waved his hand opening the door and began to walk out.

 Zach stepped toward, "Wait! How long do we have to stay here? How do we get back home? You can’t do this!”

 "Here there is no concept of time, you will never get sick here, never get hungry, never get old, everything is forever. This room is your home now. You will never return to your place of origin. The knowledge you contain is enough to bring instability to the fabrics. This is the way it has to be."

 Before Quintar closed the door, sealing the two scientists in the oval room for eternity, Dr. Kaufmann called out, "Why you? What gives you the right to decide the fates of others?"

Quaintar paused for a moment then turned looking back into the room containing two specimens of extraordinary genius joining millions of others locked away in the rooms, forever.

"We protect it because we were the ones that destroyed it."