Earth Rage

"It's no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then," —Lewis Carroll, the Adventures of Alice.

~

The first days of August hung hot and heavy over a small corner of Northern California like a melted Salvador Dali timepiece. The year was 2021. Billy Tuck had been more than simply curious about modern culture.

He'd made plans to attend Chico State College in the fall.

August is the time of year you can almost feel the tendrils of autumn pulling you in. With the slow passage of time, the fourth solstice will seduce you. Pull you in with her warm tentacles. August can feel surrealistic—a hot velvet trap. It's this particular month when cosmic eggs tend to crack. It's built for soft parades and worm tunnels. It's the month for rabbit holes, though knowing sometimes, too much of a good thing is just that, too much. Such are the curiosities of the passage of time.

The first week of August in Northern California was predictably silent, with its expressionist white dawns and rouge sunsets. The long, rainless dog days made Billy feel restless, all the while knowing that a Tsunami of change was on its way. Billy was no stranger to change or transformation.

The first few days of August created in Billy what could only be described as a kinetic feeling. It felt so good to be alive in this new and strange land of change. And yet at the same time, it made him apprehensive about what would come next.

When Billy Tuck arrived in this world, he could never have imagined the challenges he'd face. Having been born here, of extreme importance to Billy, was the fact that he craved to feel every full-throttled level of human emotion.

Billy was born with a curse and a blessing. Just like in the well known novel, Tuck Everlasting, Billy Tuck would never experience death in his life. Strange, I know.

Though he enjoyed his new world, a world he considered his oyster, things wouldn't go easy on the young man. Dealing with a clutter-bang of emotions in order to feel human would come at a cost. Having no parents for so long added to his mindset of feeling alienated.

In the end, it would come down to choosing: to stay or move along?

~

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, August 23, 2041. Theodore Wilson had recently turned 33. Teddy would never reach the age of 34.

He was a graduate of one of U.C. California's more prestigious universities, Chico State. The rural university wasn't always listed that way. Listen up! Playboy Magazine had named it one of the top party schools in the world. It still is.

Chico State is where the culture of fraternities and sororities is on full display to this very day. Chico is a quintessential college town, surrounded by a community of poor farmers and urban commuters. It's isolated. The locals love it that way.

Teddy had made quite a name for himself in Silicon Valley some 20 years post-graduation. He had a beautiful wife and two loving children. His home in Atherton had been appraised at 16.5 million if you take into account inflation.

Teddy had this dog he'd named Jupiter.

He named it Jupiter, not for any particular reason, it just seemed right at the time. Teddy had turned into somewhat of a control freak. Everything had to have its place and a name on it. And so his children had no say in naming their pet. He had this double edged curse of being impulsive and bright. He'd never been referred to as empathetic, ever.

Jupiter was loyal, like most Golden Retrievers; he and his master were close. But after Saturday ended, Jupiter would commence barking at dusk as long as he lived. Animals know these things.

In hindsight, most believe Teddy simply lost his mind. It happens sometimes. What occurred was easier for his friends and family to swallow. They'd assumed he had a nervous breakdown and then, then, just exploded.

Saturday morning started fantastically. That is, until Teddy dug into the San Jose Mercury News. The liberal rag newspaper had posted an article on page seven about this young man's near-death experience. It had taken a good twenty years for him to recover his memory following his initial four months of coma. This man, named Billy, had been left for dead.

After what came out, the district attorney's office was investigating if Billy had been a victim of a long gone hazing ritual, or if what happened to him was intentional. If so, whoever perpetrated the criminal act would be facing attempted manslaughter charges.

Billy, now 37 years old, had been found unconscious in the Plumas National Forest all those years ago. The location was just outside of Chico, California. So far, the authorities had learned that at the time, young Billy was pledging to gain entrance into a well known fraternity. Billy was a gifted freshman, having commenced school at the age of 16. He'd been interested in pledging the Delta Chi Fraternity. The year was 2021. It was in late August.

The article went on to say that Billy had moved to Northern California in an attempt to pursue the American Dream. He'd handpicked the quintessential college, having the grades to attend any school in the nation.

It was all there in the fraternity's preamble: It has been pointed out that the four most important words in the Preamble are not what most members assume: "Friendship", "Character", "Justice", and "Education".

All Billy ever wanted in life was to feel normal, to expand his horizons and, oh, to continue to live forever.

Before I get ahead of myself, let's finish up with Teddy.

Teddy had devoured the article about this young man, Billy's, repressed memories. He knew Billy Tuck well. Teddy could feel the sticky peanut butter aftertaste of fear at the back of his throat. It had never gone away over all those years. He'd be caught in a slow-motion trap.

Billy's repressed memories were that he'd been dropped off late one night, deep in the woods of the Plumas Forest. It was just after he commenced his freshman year of college at Chico State. What had been done to Billy was nothing short of sadistic and criminal.

To Teddy, that early Saturday morning in Atherton, time felt bent and warped. Things got smaller and larger too fast, like when you go through a worm hole.

He'd glared at the period in the article's last sentence. The article had been disturbing. The period, a full stop punctuation mark, was the size of Vladimir Putin's thumb. It, the period, appeared the size of a nuclear apple. It began to throb as if it were a red Russian hydrogen bomb about to explode. Teddy knew the red button could never be disarmed.

Teddy stood.

He sucked oxygen into his lungs until they wanted to explode. Then, he immediately galloped in the direction of his master bedroom suite. He'd abandoned his upper crust croissants and coffee, buttered and hot on the table. Jupiter had gobbled them up.

Once in his expansive bedroom, Teddy dressed quickly and attempted to race out of the house, not saying a word.

He'd left his wife speechless at the open front door. She was the last family member to recall seeing Teddy as he raced away in a hurry.

Teddy had driven his new BMW i66 over to the Left Bank in Menlo Park. The Left Bank is a well known local eatery and watering hole. It's the place that had made Teddy a lot of business acquaintances. He ordered his last breakfast, along with a few Sierra Nevada draft beers. It was as if it were his last supper.

Teddy spent most of the morning drinking at the popular eatery, according to the investigation that would follow. Teddy watched every damned soul who'd entered the well-known pub into the early afternoon. It was as if he was looking for something, maybe a sign, or a certain someone. Whatever it was, it had evil intent.

By early afternoon, the usually mild mannered gentleman intentionally picked a fight with the bartender. Teddy knew Clarence very well. In fact, the two had played handball on occasion.

Clarence, having done some M.M.A., ended up kicking the shit out of Teddy.

Shortly after, the San Mateo County Sheriff's Department picked up the well-respected businessman and hauled his ass off to the clink. He would at least be charged with public drunkenness and disorderly conduct come Monday morning. But, some Monday mornings are not meant to be.

Teddy was quite disturbed as he was forced into the back of the sheriff's patrol car. Being handcuffed felt confining. He was quickly transported to the San Mateo County main jail. He'd refused any small talk.

After his booking, Teddy was placed into a large holding cell with a mix of local homeless men and regular drunks bent on fucking up their lives with drugs and booze.

The line to the telephone that early Saturday evening seemed like it would never end. Everyone who wanted out of jail was placing calls. After all, Saturday night was coming. What fuckup wants to spend a perfectly good Saturday night not breaking laws in jail?

Teddy never got in line. He could care less if he ever got out.

He was content to sit and make a spectacle of himself as he rocked back and forth on one of the silvery benches of the holding tank. Those that observed him thought he was crazy for enjoying his incarceration so much. His mumbling alone was good entertainment.

That entire early evening, leading into late Saturday night, not once did Teddy ask to use the telephone. Contacting an attorney or his lovely wife had never crossed a single synapse in his mind.

Though Teddy remained anxious, he'd calmed down a bit, falsely assuming he was safe. That is, until just around midnight. No one else noticed, not the jailers, the clerks, or the incarcerated. Only Teddy could hear it. It was the manic sound of a gazillion angry bees in flight.

It was then the jailhouse lights flickered. It was nothing, really. No one noticed except Teddy. Somehow Teddy knew something unworldly was on its way to deliver a shitload of venom and hurt.

~

Teddy allowed himself to sniff what smelled like the pleasant aroma of ozone.

He immediately sprung up and shrieked as loud as he could, "God damn you, kill me already! I haven't slept one damned night in 20 years without hearing those fucking bees!"

The entire jailhouse went quiet. The last time that had occurred was the day before the jail had originally opened for business.

It was as if it had rained inside the smelly facility. It was as if something terrible was going to be cleansed for good.

Only Teddy noticed the hint of bleach and copper that comes before a storm. If he weren't a proud man, he would have shit his assigned blue jeans. Everything inside him was in a washing machine.

He began to exude the same odor early man must have exuded when he hunted mastodons, leopards and other apex predators. At a subconscious level, he'd released chemicals that warn his species of horrific danger. Yet, paradoxically, Teddy was nowthe prey.

There was part of Teddy's brain that tried desperately to trick him. Trick him into thinking he was experiencing what's called phantosmia. This can occur when you smell something that isn't real. Seeing ghosts has been known to trigger such a response. Phantosmia often occurs during extreme anxiety and psychosis. Some bachelors experience this just before their future bride march's down the aisle, hand in hand with their father.

Immediately after Teddy had read the latest copy of the Chico Enterprise-Record newspaper and USA Today earlier that morning, he'd begun the work of getting himself arrested and placed in a fortress. It was the closest thing to the safety of a bank vault he'd thought at the time. He'd settled for the county jail, where there was at least ample oxygen. But, as we all know, there is no safe hiding place from adjunct evil.

Although getting himself arrested and convicted would place a black mark on his career, at least he might survive what was coming. And, just maybe, he'd live long enough to make amends. But in truth, other than a second coming, there was nothing on earth that was going to forestall the unnamed terror.

Most of the prisoners and jailers, those who'd survived the event, would live to explain to friends and family what they'd seen and heard.

"It was like when one of those stinky beached whales end up exploding after stinking up the beach for a few days. You know, how they spraying blood and guts for hundreds of yards in every direction?"

They'd all refer anyone who'd listen to check out exploding whales on YouTube, if only for shits and giggles.

"At first all we heard was this overwhelming silence. And then there was this sonic boom. We thought it was a God-damned massive earthquake."

Closed-circuit TV captured the event: Teddy's erupting from behind the bars in a fine mist of blood and pulp of bodily organs. The tapes would be examined the next week.

Frame by frame, the forensic team looked for a shadowy figure. They'd used super slow motion playback, yet, they saw almost nothing.

Freeze framing didn't help. What they saw was oblique. It appeared as a random Rorschach test card. What they observed was more about who was doing the looking than the reality on the monitor. They didn't get much for their effort.

The cause of all the terror appeared upright, if only momentarily. It stood directly in front of the communal holding cell. It was as if the entity's arms had reached out and beckoned this guy named Teddy.

Following the taunting, the shadowy abstraction disappeared in a clap-cloud of red spray. The bloody aerosol had covered all of the facility's CCTV lenses. In fact, the entire lobby, the holding cell walls, the flooring, and the ceiling had been misted red. Nothing much was left of Teddy to determine what had caused the catastrophic event.

Two weeks later, using DNA, the sheriff's department confirmed it was Teddy that had disappeared.

~

Enrollment at Chico State began on August 22^nd, 2021. Billy, Teddy, and Jessup had met up the same day.

Teddy and Jessup, tight friends, were scheduled to graduate the following May. They'd been with the Omega Chi fraternity since they were freshmen. They both cherished fraternity life and the thought of establishing lifelong friends and business contacts.

Billy represented the best and brightest, having transferred to Chico directly out of high school. His obvious intelligence hadn't gone unnoticed by the two older guys. Jessup and Teddy encouraged Billy to pledge through their fraternity. They spoke of the fraternity's attributes, listing famous alumni, including a congressman and a state senator. Since he was younger, they'd agreed to keep an eye on the younger Billy. He loved that. His parents had been gone for some time.

Theodore had arrived at Chico three years earlier. He was from the east coast, like Billy. His blue-money parents had encouraged him to attend school out west.

"After all, that's where all the new money is, Teddy," they'd said.

Teddy had considered his distance away from daddy's controlling personality a necessary bridge.

As far as Jessup T. Connors goes, and his back story, he was local. He'd killed his SAT's at Red Bluff High School. He could have gotten into any university in the entire country. However, the S&J Ranch in Red Bluff wasn't far from Chico. Jessup could return home as needed, tagging new calf ears, and supervising his father's vast herd of cattle.

His pappy had said, "Son, Chico is about as far as you need to go to get you one of those fancy M.B.A.'s. After, you can return to the ranch. The ranch needs you."

Being the only child, Jessup was well on his way to taking over the family's standing Hereford cow and calf operation. The ranch had done very well over the years. In fact, the S&J brand of bulls had made their presence known on the national breeding circuit. To consider S.J. Connors a multi-millionaire would have been a substantial understatement.

From what Jessup, the leader, and his sidekick Teddy had gathered, Billy was penniless, unless you could count the young man's abundance of scholarships.

They calculated that since Billy was raised in scores of foster-care homes, he would be an easy mark. None of the foster care families could handle the boy with such a high I.Q.

Billy was born in Brighton Beach on Long Island, to what were assumed were Russian emigrants. At least that is what the government wanted everyone to believe. His parents had been under investigation until they'd completely disappeared one day, out of the blue. In truth, the C.I.A. had a suspicion that they might be aliens, and had gone back to their motherland. They'd face criminal charges should they return, having abandoned their only child.

The C.I.A. had learned that some of the foster parents had been unnerved, because of what appeared to them to be Billy's psychic powers. He'd demonstrated his skills to the other foster-care kids. Cats were levitated, TV's turned on and off when the boy looked left or right, and then there were those persistent closets the nasty tongued kids had been placed inside. Doors were locked, keys disappeared.

Other than a little psychic mischief, Billy mostly flew below the radar. Social service records had shown Billy to be a loving, bright, child with a wicked sense of humor. The funny thing is, no one who knew Billy ever recalled him mentioning his parents. It seemed that he didn't give two shits where they ended up. Or, if he knew, he wasn't telling.

There were so many stories back then. Picking one at random seemed more than reasonable. Eventually, Billy headed out west, picking up odd jobs along the way to California.

For a while, the government tracked his daily activities. After all, he had a chip under his skin. Eventually, Billy caught on and removed it. After that, the authorities mostly monitored him through social media.

~

Over time, Jessup and Teddy agreed that Billy's lack of family and financial support might be a problem. They'd discussed this several times. He certainly lacked any true financial pedigree. But at least he was intelligent. In the end, all they really needed was someone to replenish fraternity brains. And young Billy had plenty of brains.

Just the year before, they'd lost their best chess wizards to graduation. Friendly competition with the other fraternities and a few of the sororities meant they'd need to upgrade their chess game. Winning meant everything to the conniving duo. That's where Billy would fit in, at least in the short term. They'd advertise him as their fraternity's new chess ace.

"Dude, you have to rush with us. We're the best. I can't tell you how far this will advance your career someday, really." Jessup stuck out his chest and moved closer to Billy as he extended the invitation. Jessup is the sociopath that everyone warns us about. Psychological scent-marking was his specialty.

While waiting in line to finalize their registration, it hadn't taken much effort to convince young Billy that he needed to pledge Omega Chi.

After all, his objective was to experience everything related to the ritual of university life. He craved family, now having no one left. He'd been on his own for the last few years. Just recently he'd gone to court and had been legally emancipated.

"What about the hazing part?" Billy asked.

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Billy. You're probably heard about this Matthew Carrington kid, right? He's the kid who died after being severely hazed in Chico? First of all, his hazing was performed by only a few fraternity members, bad apples really. They made Matthew drink an excessive amount of water. He'd also been ordered to perform endless calisthenics in the basement of his frat house. But, Billy, we are caring, not cruel." Teddy was convincing.

"Wow that sounds pretty rough." Billy's eyes appeared wide and glossy. "Dying from drinking too much water, really?"

"These days Billy, we have built-in safety guidelines, thanks to the state of California. They've made it a felony if someone is killed while pledging. In fact, one of Carrington's abusers did time." Jessup loved his facts, and how he could dominate a conversation by manipulating half-baked facts. But, more importantly, he was cunning, and that made him the school's best chess player, as well as being very dangerous.

"Dude, we don't do risky shit. Our rituals are more psychological and fear based; harmless, really." Teddy flashed his devious smile.

"Guys, I'll think it over." Billy had been sold when he'd first been invited to pledge. Living alone in his cramped studio apartment had given him plenty of time to experience all the emotions of loneliness. But he wasn't going to show all his cards.

Billy had also researched several other fraternities. To his way of thinking, Omega Chi was at the top of his list. He wouldn't let on, though. He'd make his new friends sweat some. Billy had worked hard and was an expert at disguising himself. Hell, he'd already met two of Omega Chi's hazing committee members, Teddy and Jessup. Now that he felt wanted, what harm would there be pledging with their fraternity?

~

It was the first week of September. Teddy and Jessup had selected Billy. Billy accepted their invitation and said he was ready for the hazing process.

Billy's pledge began late one evening. It went down the same night the other pledges were swallowing goldfish back at the frat-house. The other hazing committee members knew nothing about Teddy and Jessup's intent to scheme Billy.

It would be diabolical and life threatening, Jessup knew for certain, and Teddy simply went along with his partner's bent thinking.

By now, the older boys had come to resent the level of horsepower under Billy's mental hood. He was a genius and had put them to shame in advanced studies. Though he'd learned to be a damned good chess player, he also had come across as shy and socially awkward among the fraternity peers.

Yet, Billy's innocence was something the sorority girls loved about him. He'd been practicing at being human and it was working. Missing out on all the attention, Teddy and Jessup had grown jealous and resentful.

"He's as cute as a bug," one of the faithful party girls said at a party.

Another had said how kind and considerate Billy was.

Billy's personal stock had been rising as the two older friends stock had nearly hit bottom.

"Jesus, Teddy, his apartment smells like a bat cave." Jessup wrinkled up his nose. The two had stopped over to pick up their pledge.

"I know, and all that dead and dying shit is in his unplugged fridge too. He's got more flies in there than warm beer!" Teddy frowned.

Jessup had grown to disdain his new apprentice. He'd convinced Teddy something drastic had to be done so they'd save face. Jessup knew all along there would be no recalibrating his awful decision. And so, that last night at Billy's place, he'd made sure not to touch anything.

Teddy had asked, "Dude, why are you taking the empty beer cans?"

"Ah, fingerprints and D.N.A. Just kidding," Jessup had said to his friend. "Dude, our frat-house can recycle them."

The night of Billy's formal hazing had arrived. More than the seasons were changing. There had been a chill in the air.

They'd take Billy deep into the Plumas National Forest, all the way to Coyote Gap. They intended to blindfold him. The long drive had taken about two hours.

Once there, they'd walked Billy into the forest, in the direction of Mill Creek. At the pre-arranged location, the two asked Billy to get naked. Then they made him stretch and contort to get into the vintage strait-jacket they'd purchased on eBay. It had been guaranteed escape proof. Jessup cinched it up extra tight. Billy grunted.

Billy started shaking, but he'd warm soon, the strait-jacket's fabric was thick cotton canvas.

Billy was tasked to find his way back to the fraternity house as soon as possible, and by any means necessary. He was told that Coyote Gap Road was used frequently by friendly locals. In truth, the only living souls this far up in the mountains were survivalists and paranoid meth dealers.

But it was Billy, after all, who'd wanted to experience the American Dream and feel completely human. What would feel more human than feeling lost? He was a boy, with his entire life ahead of him. Wasn't he bullet-proof? Billy had no one to blame for his situation but himself.

After about an hour of filling Billy's head with terror, Teddy and Jessup trekked back to the pickup and sped off in the direction of Chico.

It had taken half an hour, but Billy finally managed to rub the blindfold off of his head. What he saw above were shaky stars and a moon more scythe than enchanting. He'd begun to feel fear for the very first time. The discomfort was exhilarating, so unpredictable. Billy was experiencing what others his age had felt over the millennia.

He'd gone in concentric circles. It was a logical choice. He'd planned to increase the distance between each loop. Surely, he wrongfully thought, he'd walk until he reached the dirt road they'd come in on. From there, he'd find a way home to his new fraternity and celebrate with the others.

Teddy and Jessup had lied to Billy.

They made up the entire story about how easily it would be for him to find his way home. Billy began to struggle. His theory of walking in concentric circles wasn't panning out. He hadn't taken into account the steep ups and downs of the forest's landscape. He'd fallen as much as he walked. Low-lying branches whipped at his eyes.

Going downhill, he'd tripped and fallen flat on his face, not having his arms and hands to brace him. Manzanita and scrub brush scratched at his perfect skin, nearly tearing it off in patches. Yet he hadn't panicked. He wanted to, but the emotion felt uncomfortable, so he kept his mind distracted. Crossing Mill Creek twice had been difficult. The thought of drowning had been on his mind. The water was icy cold and foreboding.

In the early morning hours, back at the fraternity, Jessup and Teddy were clanking long-neck bottles of Bud Light. They were celebrating what they'd done. They guzzled and guzzled and partied into the late morning hours. Four of the newest pledges had joined the festivities, one having swallowed five live goldfish. Not a single person asked about Billy.

About the same time, Billy had stumbled and cracked open his forehead on a jagged outcropping of granite. He could feel the cut sizzle with pain, the wetness of blood as it ran down his forehead and into his eyes. He bellowed and caterwauled like a newborn. The new feelings had surprised him. The thought of shedding water through one's eyes had never crossed Billy's mind. He managed to get up on his knees. From there, using one hand and a rock he managed to stand upright.

The following night, Teddy's father wired him money so he could return home for a few days. Cousin Kevin was having his 16th birthday party.

Jessup had planned to catch up on some studying while his friend was away for family time. But partying had gotten in his way. The thought of Billy lying out there dead in the woods had not crossed his mind. In truth, what Jessup had done was easy. Absent a conscience, it's easier to bury your sins.

Teddy returned the following Thursday.

"My cousin's party was fantastic."

It wasn't until late Friday of the following week that he and Jessup spoke about Billy.

"Dude, if he couldn't get water, he's more than likely dead" Teddy appeared as if he truly cared. Unlike his friend, Jessup, at least he had the internal basics to feel a twang of guilt.

"Screw the little creep. He's socially backward and doesn't fit in with the rest of us. Listen, he bought our pledge bullcrap, and what happened in the woods is on him."

"Well, shall we go back and look for him, Jessup?" The wounded part of Teddy raised its guilty head.

"Teddy, don't be such a pussy. If that punk is gone for good, will the world really be short-changed?" Jessup was well on his way to being a psychopath. Psychopaths kill, sociopaths want to. There was a lot of pent up rage in Teddy, but he mostly didn't act upon it.

Teddy faked not giving two shits. Hell, he didn't want to end up like Billy. Going forward, Teddy would distance himself from his once-friend Jessup. Over time, the only thing they would have in common was the dark secret they shared.

Beating the odds, Billy lay dying nearly 200 feet from the slow moving Mills Creek. He was still in his strait-jacket. He'd managed to fill himself with water over the past several days. Now, the thought of making it home was nonexistent. He'd become disoriented and delusional. Billy had shut down.

~

Back on campus, on the quad, Teddy and Jessup were studying together.

"There are missing-persons posters for Billy all over campus and in town, Jessup."

"Shut the hell up, Teddy, don't speak so loud." An important test was coming.

"Jessup, what in the hell are we going to do?"

"Not a damned thing, Teddy. Get some balls, he's dead by now."

For all intent and purposes, Billy was indeed dead. Slowly, his mind was deleting his memories of the horrific event he'd been experiencing. His brain had been starved of nutrients, unless you count the occasional worm and dirt.

Having no family per se, very little effort went into looking for Billy. Billy was just another missing person in Northern California's hinterland. Just like all the other missing young boys, he was another statistic.

~

Witch Naddie, that's what the locals called her, never met a male she liked until she'd met dead Billy.

Her neighbors thought Naddie an odd duck. For years, she'd wrongly been accused of being an urban hoarder, because of all the botanical specimens she collected, especially the trees she planted.

Eventually, she sold her home in San Francisco and moved up to the north state.

To this day, her old San Francisco neighbors continue to share stories about how impossible it was to watch the old lady attempt to plant so much vegetation on her postage-stamp-sized lot in the city. She'd grown the mighty Sequoia, and pine, lots of pine. She'd planted Manzanita and Douglas fir too. With each tree she planted, the neighbors gathered and mumble about how Naddie would be better off in the damned mountains, or some kind of institution. The neighbors harassed Naddie until finally one day she decided to leave the city. To Naddie, if she could, she would have turned her neighbors into pedestrian fleas on a dog.

Naddie, like a lot of unique women, had been labeled a witch; this for simply collecting excessive plant life.

She'd been chided for beating her exotic rugs on a make-shift clothesline in her yard in San Francisco. She had her small home painted with rainbow colors and lived a minimalist lifestyle. She'd been ridiculed once for placing old, yellow San Francisco Examiner newsprint over her windows instead of curtains. She wore a military green coat she'd purchased cheap at the local Army/Navy store, winter or summer.

"Move to Berkeley, we don't need this shit here," more than a few neighbors had yelled from across the narrow street.

The constant torment and harassment lasted until one day she decided, to hell with city life. So, she sold her home, and used her sizable profit to purchase about 20 acres along this marvelous Mill Creek in Plumas County.

It had taken a few years. But, Naddie had finally settled into her cabin. It was on the edge of the Plumas forest. Each day she woke, she thanked her goddess that she'd moved. To Naddie, each tree that carried a tune, or even hissed in the breeze carried a song more comforting than she'd ever heard. She'd arrived home, and nature had accepted her.

Ms. Naddie had grown attached to her quiet lifestyle. She often hiked for hours in the forest. She'd gather mushrooms, medicinal herbs, and firewood for her wood-burning stove.

One day while out in the woods, she'd stumbled upon Billy. There he lay, not far from Mill Creek.

At first, she blushed. She assumed the young naked man was a male mannequin. But not long after she'd poked and prodded this thing wrapped tightly in a strait-jacket, she moved in closer to take a good look. She thought she'd detected movement, or at least the tip of a pointed stick had.

"Just what I need, more human entanglement." Naddie had grown accustomed to not sharing her woods.

Here was this boy. Maybe he was dead, maybe he wasn't. Lying there naked, he appeared to be about five feet ten and approximately 130 pounds, if she had to guess. When he'd died, his eyes were wide open. Not an ounce of sadness appeared in those eyes, she thought. The dead can look that way, often alien.

But Naddie wasn't certain the boy was dead. And when Naddie was certain or uncertain, she was mainly correct.

It took Naddie a few hours to build one of those travois things that Native Americans used so well to haul cargo, and loved ones incapable of walking, across long distances. And it took her most of the day to pull Billy back to her modest cabin in the woods. She'd manipulated the dead boy around a lot of trees and boulders, and the occasional brush pile, up the cabin's porch stairs and into the house, across the planked floor.

Back at the cabin, Naddie, good and tired, rolled the boy off her travois in front of a blazing fire she'd started.

She placed a wet cloth over his mouth and squeezed the water into the boy's throat. She cleaned him up the best she could and placed a light blanket over his wrinkled white skin.

Later that evening, she cooked herself some venison and made herself some of her delicious homegrown tea. Once in her zone, she began to ponder the boy's demise. She had no answers, but not having answers never stopped Maddie from using her imagination.

Before the night had tucked itself in, she carefully removed Billy's filthy strait-jacket. She felt sad, as she unfolded the boy's delicate porcelain arms; so fragile, she thought. She straightened them down along his sides where they rested.

"No boy should die all twisted up," she'd said to the dying fire.

Upon completing the task, and with the fire nearly out, Naddie shuffled off to bed for the night.

Something down deep in had moved. For some odd reason, she was getting attached to this vulnerable dead boy.

She'd worried that she'd placed herself in the middle of a crime scene by hauling the young boy up to the cabin.

In truth, she'd been in eastern Oregon collecting spices and plants for her various tinctures when he'd been placed in the strait-jacket. But, would the authorities attempt to place her there where he died, or was killed?

She'd tell the authorities she merely found the boy in his condition at the creek. She knew that would go over like a fart in church and that she'd be a prime suspect, regardless. In the end, it never mattered. For the first time in her life, someone was depending on her, and she'd risk something important, part of herself.

Early the next morning, just after daybreak, while Naddie was sweeping ashes out of her fireplace, she'd gotten the surprise of her life.

He groaned, the boy. Well, it was more like a croak. But, she was certain the sound had come from the suspected corpse.

Naddie quickly swung around to get a better look.

Billy twitched. Or at least it seemed as though he twitched. Naddie drew back, dropping the broom and dust pan on the hardwood floor. She listened carefully. Her heart was beating primitive drums in her ears. She shuddered deep inside. As quickly as she could scramble back to her bedroom cupboard, Naddie retrieved an extra quilt. She stooped over and covered the boy's body. That was the closest she'd ever felt to being a mother.

When he coughed and cried, Naddie panicked, but in a good way. She immediately gathered the boy up in the quilts and assisted him to stand. Not long after, she and the young man walked the short distance to her pickup. Naddie opened the door and stuffed him into the passenger seat. She slammed the door shut. Once inside the truck, Naddie turned on the ignition and sped off in the direction of Chico.

At the Enloe Medical Center, Naddie directed staff to quickly lift the young man out of the truck. He'd been injured in the woods, she'd said. The nurses placed Billy on a gurney and wheeled him into the emergency room. Later, having been diagnosed with a serious concussion, the treating physician transferred Billy to a recovery room.

Later that night, he'd fallen into a coma.

The coma would last nearly three weeks. When he'd eventually woken, unfortunately, Billy had no memory of what had occurred. The following Monday, Billy was released back to Naddie's care.

~

In the middle of his first night at the cabin, Billy, now in the spare bedroom, started screaming and yelling.

"I'm not dead, damn it!" Billy cursed at the night.

"Of course you aren't dead, Billy," Naddie assured him, now at his bedside holding his cold hand.

It would take several months for Billy to get his strength back. There would be physical and occupational therapy at Enloe Rehab, as well as speech therapy. He'd hit his head pretty hard.

It took Billy about a year to feel as good as new, at least physically. But mentally, that was a different story. He couldn't remember what occurred that fall night in the woods, or how he'd ended up in a strait-jacket.

Not one fraternity member ever acknowledged knowing Billy, let alone having any information regarding s sadistic hazing ritual. The sheriff's office had hit a dead end. Billy's investigation had turned cold. His having complete amnesia hadn't helped.

As far as the evil twins, Teddy and Jessup, they'd continued their usual, drinking and partying. They'd clanked beer bottles dozens of times toasting Billy's short and forgetful life. No news about the missing student had been good news. After all, people go missing all the time.

Not knowing much about his past or future, Billy decided to apply for an entry-level job. He chose to seek work in the woods. He got himself hired and became a skilled timber feller for a lumber company in nearby Shasta County. Having performed the job well, one day he decided to quit.

According to Billy, he needed work that was more adventurous. And so he agreed to sign up as a general laborer on a crab boat in Alaska. He worked for various captains and managed to keep from drowning for at least fifteen years.

His home base had always remained Naddie's place in the forest. They'd become a family of two over time. He'd learned a lot from her.

Having enough of the fishing industry, Billy returned to California for good. He'd taken a few months off before commencing work at Home Depot, of all places. His place of employment was located in nearby Redding, in Shasta County.

Billy and Naddie shared birthdays and holidays and other special occasions over the next five years. Naddie loved needling Billy for being too bright and curious. She'd suggested college only once, but Billy had a negative reaction to her recommendation. He had an aversion to attending any university, including online courses.

After a few years, Billy explained that his new job in Redding, now in management, felt comfortable. He might stick it out for a while. Although for some strange reason, he'd explained to Naddie, he felt that change was on the horizon, just around the corner.

One early evening as Billy was headed to his apartment in Redding, shocking memories rounded this tall mountain of amnesia. The memories had raced toward him like some kind of emotional freight train. The horrid locomotive was headed downhill and picking up speed. Dodging the train was unavoidable. Every single recollection leading up to his so-called accident in the woods had returned with a vengeance.

Billy managed to pull the truck to the side of the road in a graveled turnout. He snapped off the ignition. He stomped on the parking brake. Before he knew it, two hours had run over him, dragging him along the train tracks, each boxcar heavy with the past.

The very next day, Friday, Billy made sure to head over to Naddie's cabin in nearby Plumas County. There was a lot of dark history he needed to share with her.

~

That evening after dinner, in front of a blazing fire, Billy went on and on about getting his memory back. He explained every last detail of what occurred out in the woods before Naddie had found him clinging to life. He told Naddie how his so-called friends, Jessup and Teddy had set him up for failure, believing he was pledging for their fraternity.

Naddie stopped Billy in mid sentence.

"Billy, there was no reason to tell you before, but I have a confession to make"

"Shoot, since when have you held anything back, Naddie?"

"Well, when you were at Enloe hospital at Chico, the two boys that you mentioned came by to, ah, to visit you. They must have considered me some type of bag-lady, slouched and sleeping on that chair outside your room. They were next to your bed when I heard them."

"What did they say, Naddie, the suspense is killing me."

"Ah, there's not an easy way to put this, Billy, but they wished out loud that you would die. I told the authorities, but they didn't pay much attention to me at the time."

Billy looked at the floor and back up at Naddie. Nothing she could ever say could stop him from caring about her.

"I know what you are thinking, Billy. You want revenge."

"From what I have gathered over the years, my two so-called friends who dumped me in the woods have gone on to live very successful lives. So, it's only human to want to retaliate."

"Yes, son, ah, Billy, and I can see how this might start to eat at your guts, knowing what occurred all those years ago." But, I don't want anything to happen to you. Please let the past stay where it belongs, gone and buried."

"I wish I could, Naddie, but the two of them were extremely cruel. Who knows what other sick things they've done to other people over the last 20 years?"

"But, Billy, if you do anything to them, you will end up in the same place they belong, in jail. What the hell kind of life would that be? You hate being tied down."

"Em, believe me, Naddie, I won't end up in jail. I'm more careful than that. I have certain powers that I've kept to myself."

"Billy, you think I don't know that?"

It was Billy's turn to stare at the floor. Nearly a full five minutes had passed. Suddenly, the iron teapot on top of the fire place insert began to whistle.

The things they shared that night could never be proven. The mystical and magical things they had in common, though they were so different in so many ways. Space, time, other worlds were discussed. Naddie had been on other planets, she'd said.

"I am certain of it, Billy." Though Billy was skeptical, he was supportive.

They hugged tightly when Billy left before midnight. They agreed to get together soon, under happier circumstances. But something had changed. They both knew they would never see each other again.

~

Jessup T. Connors had turned into one hell of a cattle rancher. He'd taken over the management of the family's very successful cattle enterprise. Jessup's father had passed away a few years back. It was under suspicious circumstances. Jessup had given him fits to retire before the so-called accident.

Jessup's life had continued to descend into a dark, endless tunnel. He'd become a selfish narcissist. His mother had given him her blessing to run the mammoth operation. She had no choice, it was either that or he'd force her off the board of directors.

It was late in the day. It was Sunday, August, 24^th, 2041. Jessup was out back on a small plot of mostly forested land, maybe 3000 acres of patches of grazing land.

Oh, how he loved driving cattle. The control felt so good to him. His favorite tool to get the cattle to do what he wanted was his cattle prod. If a cow looked sideways at Jessup, he'd use that as a reason to deploy his electrical torture stick.

Calves couldn't handle the same amount of electricity, and he'd accidentally killed 17 at last year's cattle drive. Just another deduction and tax write-off, he'd thought.

Once he graduated from Chico State with a business degree, Jessup hadn't looked back in his rear view. It's because a rear view is like a conscience the way it reflects your past. For twenty years he'd been able to keep what he and Teddy had done in a deep mental grave.

What helped was that Teddy was no longer in his life to remind him. They'd agreed on a bad deal several years earlier, and as planned, his old friend had gotten the short end of the cattle prod. Like most things between them, it had gone south.

Jessup had a reputation as being a brutal business partner. Should someone be foolish enough to place themselves between Jessup and a dollar, well, they'd end up holding the short end of a stick.

Jessup rode his roan stallion up on a noisy calf that had been missing for some time. The calf was bawling in a thicket just behind a curtain of conifers. He readied his magic sting stick. it was fully charged. The calf had no damned reason for being sick or scared.

"I'm going to punish you, you little son of a bitch," he'd said out loud.

Jessup kicked at his horse's flank, not caring if his boot spurs hurt the beautiful beast. The stallion galloped forward in the direction of the dark forested section of land. The calf's sounds of distress got louder the closer he got. Jessup and the beautiful horse quickened their pace. Twigs and branches whipped at their eyes, drawing tears. Jessup grew angrier, smacking the pedigreed creature on the ass. Diablo lurched forward.

Jessup had become a rich man over and over again. Money was God to him, money being the single most important thing in life that he truly worshiped.

He'd lost his family in a nasty divorce, and now even his kids wanted nothing to do with their sadistic father. Jessup made up for losing his family by giving in to his darker demons. He'd become extra dour and sharpened his caustic personality as if it were an expensive Japanese cutting blade. Jessup T. Connors had turned into the devil's apprentice.

Near the edge of the tree line, Jessup jerked hard on Diablo's reins. The bit in his mouth hurt the loyal warrior. Diablo skidded to a stop. Jessup let go of the reins. Diablo blew steam out of his expansive nostrils. He knew better than to cross the master and turn on him. He'd wait patiently for directions. After all, the master was always in control.

Jessup hit the ground, digging in his heels. He readied the cattle prod. He walked forward toward the noisy calf. The invisible calf was just behind a thatch of tall weeds and dead juniper scrub. He'd been at the spot before. Beyond the scrub was a forest clearing, a postage-stamp meadow which was the size of a landing strip.

A crucifix of cactus and dead sagebrush cut at his blue jeans, irritating his shins and crotch. Thorns and thistles bled from his pant legs like wooden leaches.

"For two cents, I'd shoot you, you son of a bitch," he shouted in the direction of the noisy calf.

Once past the witchweed, Jessup entered the shadows of the clearing.

Directly in front of him, maybe 30 feet in distance appeared a figure of what looked like a man. This man was gripping a .40 caliber Glock with both hands. The pistol's iron sights were measured in the direction Jessup's troubled forehead. His sweaty wrinkled brows were the target.

"Strip down to nothing, Jessup. You have ten seconds before I air condition your head."

Jessup, knowing mostly what was coming, thought twice about reaching for his revolver. But, there was something in the masked man's voice that sounded curious and intriguing. To Jessup, it sounded like a victim's voice. Jessup preyed on victims. Not once in his life had he given in to a weak victim. He'd always taken them on and beaten them somehow. To him, the odds of getting out of this shit-hole predicament looked 50/50. But for some reason this was different. His perfect logic told him to obey.

Slowly, Jessup dropped his leather belt, holster and gun on the gritty dirt below. Next, off came his shirt and blood-stained pants. Socks, boots, and a platinum chain with a shiny toothed Lucifer pendant were tossed to the earth. Everything he had, including his dignity, had been removed and let go. Next, he took off his silly white cowboy hat, the one he'd paid a measly $300.00 for at the Red Bluff Roundup. The hat represented the last vestige of Jessup's dignity. After that, there was nothing left to peel away except his pride. He took a few steps toward the masked man in an attempt to improve his odds of survival.

Jessup stopped maybe five feet away from the entity.

"Turn around, Jessup!"

` Jessup followed the masked man's orders. He'd wait for the next sign of weakness. But the only things Jessup saw after turning around were stars and darkness.

In Jessup's head, only a few minutes had passed. But in fact, he had been out cold for at least half an hour. He'd been slammed in the back of the head with the butt end of a pistol.

Jessup found himself oscillating at the end of a rope. The long rope had been hung from an oak tree branch the size of an elephant's trunk. Except for the traditional strait-jacket's white canvas, he could have easily been mistaken for a fox bat. Jessup screamed and yelled at the disguised man, having caught the scent of eternity, as he turned in circles like some kind of mad human whirligig.

"Jesus, what do you want, I'll give you anything?" Jessup's voice grew soft and loud as he turned in circles.

"I don't need or want anything," said the man, slowly removing his Marti Gras Domino disguise.

"No, no, it can't be, Billy, it can't be, is that you?"

Next, this creature, who'd once named himself Billy when he was a child, peeled off his skin in segments, ever so slowly. What remained was something that looked like a slimy, olive colored salamander, only it stood upright and had nearly human-length arms. In an instant it unfolded its tail, whipping it back and forth as if he were a dominatrix Komodo dragon.

He began to slap Jessup in the face with his pin-cushion tail, over and over again as Jessup whirred. Red liquid residue began to coat Jessup. It was as viscous as dirty motor oil. It carried the scent and taste of fresh kills.

Next, the monstrosity that was no longer Billy pushed out its claws, from each hand and its sturdy webbed feet. Like a deranged cassowary, it began to jump and lash out at Jessup's face and body, shredding him in pieces with each clap of tail and talon.

The large cut that had once been Jessup's mouth hadn't stopped the crazed Jessup from attempting to speak.

"How can you be so cruel, Billy? Is that really you?"

"Billy's gone, Jessup. You and Teddy took Billy into the woods, remember, some twenty years ago? Billy disappeared in the woods, Jessup, remember, for good?

Back then, Billy had only attempted to join the fraternity to feel what it would be like to be human.

"And by the way, Jessup, your old friend Teddy is dead."

Faster and faster, Jessup circled. He continued to struggle against his restraints. It was as if he was some sort of terror dreidel. Jessup's world wouldn't stop spinning until around midnight. Elvis was about to leave the building for eternity.

"Yo Jessup, I understand you have one hell of a coyote problem up here in Red Bluff."

Night had been placed on the fast track. The terrible flat orange that weighed heavy on the horizon was the only thing left of the day.

Because of all his spinning, Jessup's strait-jacket had turned gauzy red. He'd become an evolving version of moth-man in his bloody chrysalis.

After a short while, maybe 20 minutes, Jessup went still. He would be left to slowly wind and unwind, over and over again.

He'd quit displaying life. Jessup had died from a massive heart attack. Fear can do that to you.

Ever so slowly, the creature walked toward the forest's clearing.

The long stretch of sweet meadow grass was something akin to a galactic Uber bus stop. It's there Salaman would wait for his ride. Somewhere out there, a wormhole was waiting for the curious and intelligent creature.

His phylum had landed on earth millions of years before earth's evolution. The experiments had been going on for millennia.

Salaman and his parents had played a small part in the planet's research studies.

Like his parents, Salaman was filled to his gills with having experienced the frailties of humankind. He could do without most if not all of humanity's needless emotions, including anger, anxiety, craving, disgust, fear, horror, and sadness.

What he'd learned about humans, was that humans were pathetic, with the exception of Naddie. And, Salaman wasn't altogether sure she was human.

He'd tasted Earth rage. The aftertaste was disgusting.

For now, Salaman would head home where he'd be deprogrammed. Data would be gathered and later studied. And after, he would be cleansed of the stench of human emotions.

THE END

Bio: Dan's most recent darkness has been featured in BlazeVOX, Black Petals, Blood Moon Rising, Bull, Cleaver, Close to the Bone, Dark City Books, Dark Dossier, Dream Noir, The Horror Zine, Mystery Tribune, Suspense Magazine, Schlock, The Yard Crime Blog, Variant, The 5-2.

Anthologies: Coffin Bell Two, Pain & Renewal,Vita Brevis Press, Chilling Tales for Dark Nights, Chilling Entertainment LLC (13 stories).

Dan A. Cardoza Literature

E-mail: Dan A. Cardoza

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