Sabledrake Magazine
November, 2003
This issue brought to by:
Feature Articles
The Ways of Magic, Pt. IV - VIII
Regular Articles
Resources
Nine Lives
Copyright © 2003 by Harry Henze
Martin was a plain man.
He led a plain life in a suburb of Utica, NY. He had a wife, who did nothing but shop, and two kids that liked him when they wanted the car or some extra money to shop with.
He drove a plain gray four door Honda Civic to a desk job where he sat in a cubicle with three hundred other people. His desk had a few pictures of the wife and kids just like every other Joe. He punched his card in, did his work, and punched his card out.
His lunch was spent in the massive basement cafeteria eating a sandwich and drinking a coke. He drove home in rush hour traffic and pulled in the driveway just about the time his wife and kids were finishing dinner.
It was the same for Martin day in and day out, until one day he took a detour that changed his life.
He left work the same time he did everyday, and waited in traffic headed towards the highway. The traffic was slower than usual that day, but Martin didn't notice. He stared at the same cars he had seen for the last 7 years.
Sometimes the cars changed and sometimes the drivers changed. By the time he noticed the accident it was too late to take the detour towards his town. The cops waved him past the overturned vegetable truck, and towards a road he never saw before. He followed the road wondering if it would bring him out on the other side of the accident.
The sun had set and the light had faded to a dull orange. Martin drove on, wondering if his wife or kids would notice that he was late or even care. The dull orange became gray then black while he contemplated the emotions of his family.
A small diamond of light pulled him away from his thoughts. As his car moved towards the diamond of light, a form appeared around the light. Martin leaned over the wheel and squinted his eyes trying to make out what was in the road.
As it clicked in his head, he slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. He had killed a cat. His first road kill in his driving career, and Martin wasn't sure what to do. He didn't see any houses, and there hadn't been a car for miles.
The unknown sparked Martin's curiosity. He stared out the window; images from the movie Cujo ran through his head. He opened the door slowly, waiting for a mangled cat to attack his outstretched leg, but there was nothing but the wind.
Slowly he walked towards the trunk. Martin peered over the trunk, inspecting each new piece of asphalt that was revealed. The cat, what was left of it, was under the muffler. It looked like a fur purse that had vomited blood and digested sausage links. He leaned down and got as close as he could to get a better look.
He reached out, intending to touch it. When he heard voices from the woods, he froze, staring in the direction of the new sound.
Martin saw lights, flashlights, and heard them yelling for Fluffy, or maybe it was Muffy. On instinct only he grabbed the carcass and flung it across the road into the woods. He burned the back of his hand on the muffler as he did it.
The lights were getting brighter and the voices louder. Mesmerized by the light, he stood there waiting. He happened to look down as the lights broke through the edge of the forest. He saw a small oval object at his feet. He bent to pick it up and realized it was the cat's paw.
Martin went to throw it with the carcass but the lights found him and centered. He slid the small appendage in his jacket pocket and stepped forward hiding whatever blood may be on the road.
The voices behind the lights questioned him about the family pet. Martin told them a cat had run out in front of him and back in the woods a few feet up from where they were.
All the lights turned and bobbed up the road like a glowing caterpillar. There was one left behind. It was low to the ground, and when the wind paused, he could hear sobbing float up to the road. It slowly turned and followed its taller counterparts. Martin got back in his car and left the lights for behind him.
Twenty minutes later he was on the main road, and pulling in his driveway five minutes after that.
All the lights were on in the house; they always left the lights on, even in the daytime. Somehow, this seemed different to Martin. The sink wasn't overflowing with dishes, there wasn't any food left on the counters, and all the kitchen cupboards including the fridge were closed.
He hung his jacket in the closet and walked to the master bedroom in a daze. There was something different, not wrong, just different. He pushed open the door expecting to see the lump of his wife under the comforter, but she wasn't there.
Martin thought it was strange the bed was still made but his only real concern was sleep. He found it soon after his head was planted on the pillow.
The next morning a back-up alarm resonated through his head until his eyes opened. The clock read 9:28; he was late for work. He showered and grabbed some toast, still wondering about his all-but-loving family.
Just as he was getting his jacket on, he saw there was a message on the answering machine. He picked up the handset and pressed the playback button. This was pure habit; his wife hated the digital playback. He half expected to hear his wife's voice telling him they went on another trip, or to her mother's, but the voice was a man's.
It was someone from his office, but after that all he heard was the back-up alarm again. He opened the front door and walked out onto the lawn. Martin watched a moving van back up the neighbor's driveway. A stunning woman with dark brown hair stepped out from the garage, motioning the truck back.
As the alarm silenced, the brunette turned to him, smiled, and waved, while the voice in his ear said in spite of all that we have to let you go. The shock of the beautiful woman and the news of his job was too much for him.
Martin stumbled over to the bench on the porch. From there, he watched the two large men unload the truck. He sat there most of the day in a daze, the other times he was watching the cars go by. The mailman came and left. The sun had made its trip across the sky. A stack of envelopes sat on the bench next to him and as he the street lights came to life one by one Martin wandered back inside.
He left his jacket on the back of a chair and the mail on the table. Sleep came fast again that night but it was restless.
This time the doorbell woke him up. He staggered to the door and looked out the security lens. He was shocked to see the woman from next door standing on his porch. He opened the door and absently scratched his head in an effort to smooth any cowlicks.
She greeted him in passing and placed a plate of cookies on the table. She told Martin her name was Andrea. She was welcoming herself to the neighborhood and requesting the use of his muscles.
He agreed to help her on the condition that he could shower first. Not even considering that his wife and kids may come home to find a strange attractive woman sitting at the kitchen table, he left her there and began his morning routine. He laid out his clothes, showered, shaved, and proceeded to get dressed.
When he walked back into the kitchen, she was gone. He glanced in the living room and found her looking at the family pictures over the mantle. His mind began to race on what to say when he was yanked from his thoughts by a giggle. This time he actually looked at the pictures and realized they were all pictures from his college days.
She turned to him and asked if he was ready. He nodded and off they went. He spent the day moving furniture and boxes. He listened to her about her job as a nurse and the transfer that brought her to the area. She asked about the pictures on his mantel and he related his college stories, leaving out some of the more offensive material.
He spent the whole day with her, but his mind always wanted to think about the pictures. He never mentioned his lack of family at his house, but he started to wonder if there was a lack. After reading Stephen King's Dark Tower series he firmly believed in the theory of parallel universes.
He tried to question the last few days in his mind and realized he didn't care, he was finally happy. Andrea offered him dinner, nothing special, just sandwiches and wine. Neither one of them had more than two bites of sandwich, but they finished a bottle and a half of wine.
She grabbed his hand and led him to what would be her bedroom. They spread out some blankets on the floor and drifted off together.
The morning came and the sunlight was like daggers in Martins head. He kissed Andrea on the cheek and walked back to his house. When he walked in, the room began to spin, not from his hangover, but from the fact this wasn't the house he left yesterday.
He sat on a nearby chair until the room settled around him. Any evidence of his family was now gone. The things he always wished he had or could afford replaced it. The stack of envelopes was still on the table. He sorted through them. He recognized the usual flyers and junk mail, but there were a few he hadn't seen before. These envelopes contained checks made out to him. There was also a bank statement; Martin almost fainted when he counted the number of zeros in his checking balance.
After further inspection he concluded he had joined or started a residual income business. He kept pinching himself: and then checking the account balance again, waiting to wake up. After the fifth time he remembered he had burnt his hand but there wasn't a mark to show for it.
With growing horror he wondered if the bloody appendage was still in his jacket. He slowly reached into his jacket, which was on the back of his chair. Martin thought for sure it would be gone, but then his fingers encountered matted fur and the rough sandpaper pad.
He pulled it out and looked at it as a reminder of what a bitch life can be. He placed the severed paw in a zip lock bag and hid it away in a safe he found in his room. Martin didn't know the combination, but it just came to him.
New thoughts and images of his new life popped into his head. He was worth a lot of money, had a few houses scattered through out the country, a few sports cars and a Lear jet. He was a bachelor since college, but now he had Andrea and got to play doctor every now and then.
On one particular weekend they took his jet to North Carolina. A limo waited for him at the airport. Half an hour later they reached his private beach cottage. He owned a mile or two of the beach in front of the cottage. They watched the surf from the porch. There was movement from up the beach; a stray dog looking for food had wandered close to the cottage.
Martin shooed him away, not wanting the mongrel to ruin his view. That night they went out for drinks. Martin proposed and Andrea accepted. His life was perfect.
On the way home a small diamond of light had met him once again. This time his reflexes were quicker and he swerved to miss the animal in the road. As he passed the animal he looked to see what it was. The stray dog from the beach stared back at him.
George was on his way home from some overtime at the local bar. There was an accident and he had to take a detour on the way home. As he drove by the cops directing traffic he heard that the car had run off the road into a tree and both people were dead. George thought what a shame it was when he came around a curve and was faced with a small diamond of light.
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