|Ambrose Returns is a multi-part story, written "on the fly", as an exercise. I add a new part whenever the fancy takes me, and I give each part absolutely no thought before I write it. I write it directly into the HTML editor, and then post it without any rewriting or real editing. The only editing I do is to correct spelling mistakes and anything else that is obviously wrong. And I may even miss a few of those. Writing this way won't produce my greatest work, but that's not the point. The point is to exercise the creative muscles, and to practise. And to always remind myself to not be afraid to "get things out there". :)|
|Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7|
the voice continued, I didn't turn around.
"Yep. Real nice that you're up. Saves us the trouble."
I sighed to myself, closed my eyes, and let my head fall slightly. I wish I hadn't. I didn't want to seem weak. I mean, they knew I was weak. I'd just spent 5 days in a coma after smacking my head on the ground. But, I sure didn't need to confirm it for them.
"The trouble of what?" I asked quietly.
"Getting you up ourselves," the voice replied, "You know we hate to do that."
The voice laughed. I was overcome with a sense of sadness. Yeah, some of them hated doing that. And for good reason. It was risky, and had resulted in plenty of bad situations in the past. Crossed projections. Dimension slips. Their experimental "rehabilitation" techniques needed a LOT more work. This guy didn't hate it though. He loved it. Once a girl called Melissa had been comatose, and they'd tried to wake her up; she ended up half in this world, half in another. It was not pretty. She died soon after. Bastards.
I spun around, angry now. "What do you want with me Bryce?" I demanded, "Didn't you have your fill 5 years ago?"
He considered that for a moment. "Hmmm, well, I certainly had my fill yes. But the agency, not so much. They want more. And now that there's been a disturbance, they want it now."
He went and sat on the edge of the bed, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "By the way, you DO know what that disturbance was don't you?"
I smiled. Things were making sense now. This was my one card. I had to play it well.
"Course I know," I said, "Why wouldn't I?"
That hit home. I saw him visibly flinch. Just ever so slightly. But it was there. They were worried. They had all this sensitive equipment that could measure the smallest flutter in any world out there, and most of the time they could tell what those flutters were. But sometimes they couldn't. That's why they needed us. We had a natural affinity for such things. A natural tuning if you like. Something that science could not recreate. That's why only I knew about Ambrose. And that's why I knew they were shitting themselves at whatever this new disturbance might be.
He got up. "No reason I suppose," he said, answering the question without giving anything else away, "You were the best. Were."
It hit me like lightning. A million tiny daggers puncturing my skin all at once. Fuck! That fucking thing! That was my last thought as I collapsed once again. Just onto my knees this time though. My head was safe. This device didn't make you unconscious for some minutes. It just incapacitated you, and hurt like a motherfucker in the meantime.
The pain was almost too much to bear. Almost. I had to get out of this. There was no way I could let Bryce and his goons take me wherever they wanted to take me. I'd never see daylight again. Or if I did, it would only be for several minutes here and there, and those minutes would have nothing to do with my human rights.
Time was running out. I could hear them all screaming again. Screaming at me. Clawing at me. Wanting me. I had only a few seconds left before they tore through the veil and took me off with them. But there was nothing I could do. I needed Ambrose. But ohmygod, how I wish I didn't.
Through the searing white hot needles tearing me to shreds, I managed to raise my hands up in front of me. I clasped them together. Brought them up to my face.
"Ambrose," I whispered to myself, "I need you now. Help me."
As a long bruised and rotted arm finally reached out to take me, I cold only hope that my pleas had been heard. They had to have been. The alternative was unthinkable.
|Copyright © 2015 Daniel Lee Peach|