the avenger

by nick nelson

all living creatures have been betrayed. they were born to live and love and be free. but have been forced to fight and hate and serve death. how has this happened? one day, in a village in the hills of the great desert empire, a worker ant had a vision. the worker ant was employed in a great factory making swords and javelins and arrows for the army of the great desert empire. at midday, the ant was one of a platoon of workers being herded out of the factory for lunch and daily exercise. a dark cloud passed over the sun, just above the highest hill on the horizon of the desert. the ant took the occasion to step out of line and walk into the desert. he had often wondered who was responsible for the way the world was - why it was organized into empires who spent all their energy into making weapons, planning war on each other, and occasionally even going to war. and who fed their members only enough to give them the strength to work in the weapons factories, or to train for the coming warfare, or to work on the. farms that produced the food for the soldiers and workers. was it one, or was it many? was it the emperors themselves, of the rival empires? or was there a mister big, or great evil one, who ruled the emperors? or were there invisible hordes behind the emperors, or the great evil one , ready to thunder down upon any workers or soldiers or drones who rebelled? one, or many? the ant wandered deeper into the desert and met a locust, who lived as a hermit beside a small water hole. the ant asked the locust the question? one, or many? who should i seek? on who should i claim the vengeance of the generations of cheated ones? you can only search, replied the locust. but when you have found the answer, you will only have begun. the ant continued across the desert.

the prophet

by nick nelson

for thousands of years, prophets and wise men crossed the land, offering prophecies and parables that their followers could interpret as they wished. a prophecy, a story, a dream foretold could have many meanings. the prophets disappeared down the roads, into the deserts and the mountains. the roads, the deserts, and the mountains, and the stars and skies above them, remained. another prophet appeared. with him, things were a little different. he said, darkness will cover the earth, and darkness covered the earth. he pointed to a mountain, and said, that mountain will crumble, and the mountain crumbled. he pointed to a city and said, that city will be destroyed by an earthquake, and the city was destroyed by an earthquake. he said, the sky will be filled with flying snakes, and the sky was filled with flying snakes. he said, the empress of the east will give birth to a three-headed bat, and the empress of the east gave birth to a three-headed bat. he said, the emperor of the west will be turned into an oyster, and the emperor of the west was turned into an oyster. people flocked to hear the words of the prophet. from the highest mountain, he delivered his final message. give up all that you have, he declared. and make ready, for in a thousand years such things will happen as have never been dreamed of. then the prophet disappeared. many who heard his words, took heed, and gave up all that they had. but a thousand years is a long time. after two hundred years, the prophet had all but been forgotten, and no original followers, who had taken his word to heart, remained. after four hundred years, only a handful of believers remained. after six hundred years, only one remains. there are still four hundred years to go.

ask for mister black and tell him red sent you - 29. code red

by nick nelson

part twenty-nine of twenty-nine

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by the time barry got to the dispatch office, after his unfortunate encounter with the young woman on wayne street, he had decided to concentrate on just getting through the day. when he got home at night he would consider his options as to his pursuit of his new life. he had also gotten very wet and was uncomfortable in his wet clothes. if there was nothing too urgent waiting for him at the office, he had a dry uniform in a locker there and he would change into it. there was nobody in the office when barry got there, except cary, the dispatcher . barry had always gotten along with cary, although they never exchanged much small talk. nobody knew or seemed to care what cary did, if anything, away from the office, any more than they knew or cared what barry did. it was obvious that cary noticed how wet barry was, but he dd not say anything about it, and neither did barry. “anything code red?” barry asked . “as a matter of fact, there is,” cary replied, and took a medium side package from under the desk and handed it to barry. barry nodded and took it. so much for the dry clothes, he thought. the package was about 8 inches by 6 inches by 4 inches, wrapped in brown paper, and as weightless as if it had been empty. it was addressed in a black magic marker scrawl, and also had one of the company’s red white and blue adhesive labels neatly typed: mr bill wilson 22 juniper lane wilsonville usa the label was stamped “code red - urgent” but the stamp did not obscure the label. “got a plastic bag for it?” barry asked. “it s really coming down outside.” “right here.” barry slipped the package into the clear plastic bag, and with another nod to cary, turned and went back outside. it was raining harder than ever, and a blast of wind hit him in the face. “juniper lane” did not sound familiar. not that he expected any trouble finding it. wilsonville was on the other side of the city but it was still early enough that barry thought his best bet was to drive straight through the city streets instead of getting out on the main highway that circled the city, where there was a better chance of an accident or other holdup, especially in the rotten weather. he put the package in the big glove compartment and set out. the end

ask for mister black and tell him red sent you - 28. code blue

by nick nelson

part twenty-eight of twenty-nine

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after providing ben with a cup of hot tea , a pair of slippers and an old brown sweater with a couple of buttons missing, and installing him in a comfortable armchair - and turning the tv off, so that hoss cartwright was no longer staring down at them - the bearded man listened intently to the tale ben told. he did not interrupt, but nodded from time to time, though he dd not write anything down. “that is quite a story, sir, quite a story,” the bearded man stated when ben had finished his account. “one of the most shocking i have ever heard. and in my long career in law enforcement, and before that in secret paramilitary groups operating in the gray zones between civilization and chaos, i have heard some shocking stories.” “in law enforcement!” ben managed to gasp. were his worst fears to come true? was the fellow a cohort of bill wilson’s? “yes, sir, my name is wade hampton, and i am the chief of police. bill wilson was one of my most trusted officers, and i am sorry indeed to hear that he was up to such nefarious tricks as you describe. however there is nothing for it but to investigate.” chief hampton sighed, and took a small object out of his pocket which ben recognized as a telephone. although he had never seen or used one before his capture by bill wilson, he had seen bill use one on many occasions during his captivity, always when he, ben, was securely gagged and could not call out to be heard by bill’s caller. the chief punched a single number and held the phone to his ear. “jeff,” he said after a few seconds, “we have a code blue. yes, you heard me, a code blue. at bill wilson’s house.” pause. “you know the drill, meet me at bill wilson’s a s a p.” he put the phone back in his pocket and impassively considered ben. “you say, mr rogers, that you left bill wilson unconscious in his basement? how seriously do you think you injured him?” ben laughed weakly, “maybe not as much as i would have liked. as soon as i was out in he street, i was afraid he would come to and come after me.” “i see.” the chief got up out of his chair. “well, i am afraid you will have to come with me over to bill’s place.” he stared at ben. “i will give you a jacket, but we don’t have time to get you some shoes, those slippers will have to do.” a sudden wave of tiredness swept over ben, and he thought he would pass out. “do i have to go?” he pleaded. “can’t i just stay here?” “i am afraid not,” the chief replied in a no nonsense voice. “when this is over,” he added in a friendlier tone as ben struggled to his feet. “we will get you to a hospital, and they will give you a thorough checkup. and a shave and a haircut.” “thank you,” ben managed to say. the trip back to bill wilson’s in the chief’s unmarked car took only a couple of minutes. the front door was still open, as ben had left it when he escaped, and light from the front hall spilled out into the street. the chief waited for ben to enter the house ahead of him. “bill!” the chief called. “are you here?” “he may still in the cellar,” ben suggested hesitantly. without replying, the chief made his way directly to the cellar stairs, opened the door and looked down in to the cellar’s dim light. he gestured to ben to go down ahead of him. why? ben thought. in case bill starts shooting? but he obeyed. bill was still lying as ben had left him. the chief looked down at him and shook his head, but made no move to touch him “now what?” ben asked. “we wait for the officers i called.” “of course,” ben thought. “the ‘code blue’." even as he thought it he heard voices and heavy footsteps overhead. 29. code red

ask for mister black and tell him red sent you - 27. cold

by nick nelson

part twenty-seven of twenty-nine

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it was starting to get really cold. and ben’s feet, with no shoes on them, were really starting to hurt. if he could just get to the highway… but was it even there any more? maybe there were no highways any more… just space lanes or dimension portals like in a science fiction movie… sure, everything looked “the same” walking the few blocks from bill wilson’s house, but how did he really know? and maybe… maybe bill had recovered enough to start looking for him! sure, ben had his car keys, but how much difference would that make? ben came to a decision. he would knock on the door or ring the bell - did doors still have doorbells?- of the next house he came to and ask for help. the next house looked like all the others, except that it was a little darker. there were no lights in the windows except the one that looked it was from a tv, and even that was not as bright. a black car like the others he had seen was parked in a driveway. it looked like a station wagon, but without the wood paneling. there was a doorbell. ben took a deep breath and pushed it. he could not hear it ring inside. he waited a half a minute. nobody answered the door. should he try the bell again? knock? move on to the next house, which had lights in three windows? his feet were really cold and hurting him mow. he decided to knock. but just as he was about to raise his hand, the door opened, and a man with a bushy beard stood before him, with what looked like a glass of wine in his hand. “who are you?’ the man asked ben, in a gruff but not completely unfriendly voice. “i’ve been kidnaped and held captive in a basement for thirty-three years - “ ben began. “and you had to come along just when i was settling down to watch bonanza ? ha ha, just kidding.” the man looked down at ben’’s bare feet. “well, come on in, stranger, and you can tell me the whole story.” ben eagerly followed the man in, and the man closed the door behind them, taking a quick look up and down the street before he did. ben let the warmth of the house wash over him, more warmth than he had felt during his whole captivity, and almost fainted. “i’m, uh, sorry you are missing your show,” he told the man. the man looked at ben strangely. “that’s all right, i put it on pause.” ben did not know what that meant, but just nodded. the bearded man led ben into a room filled with big comfortable chairs. the only light came from an enormous screen - a television? it looked built into the whole of one of the walls. but there was no movement on it - just a slightly flickering shot of hoss cartwright’s enormous head. this was all sort of strange, but ben was too nervous to pay it much mind. “have a seat,” the bearded man said. “can i get you something? a drink?” ben had not tasted alcohol in the thirty-three years. “uh, no thank you.” “coffee?” ben hesitated. “tea? my wife keeps tea for visitors. she’s away for the weekend, by the way.” ben found his voice. “yes, that would be nice, thank you.” “and i think you could use a comfortable pair of slippers.” “yes, if - if you have some.” this was almost going too well, ben thought. he sank down on one of the chairs, facing the big screen with hoss cartwtight’s slightly scowling face gazing down on him. “coming right up. and then you can tell me your story.” 28. code blue

ask for mister black and tell him red sent you - 26. joe

by nick nelson

part twenty-six of twenty-nine

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having left edward to his test, omar khayyam wandered down the hall. he passed the elevator and pushed open the door to the stairwell. he walked down six flights of stairs, taking his time, and pausing at each landing, as if listening for something. the sixth landing down had two doors, one leading back into the building where edward was taking his test, and a second one leading into the adjacent building. omar khayyam pushed open the second door. he entered a narrow corridor with an elevator at the end of it. entering this elevator, he pushed the button for the first floor. the elevator stopped at the ninth floor, and a woman named joan gray got on it. joan worked as a predictions analyst, at the asian and pacific prognostication company, and she was taking a break, and planning to buy a couple of lottery tickets and a bag of potato chips at the news stand on the ground floor. she and omar had noticed each other a few times before but had never seen any reason to speak to each other. omar got off at the mezzanine level, just above the ground floor. the mezzanine contained a number of small shops. including joe’s shoe repair shop. joe steel was the proprietor of joe’s shoe repair shop. he did not sleep much, and he could usually be found in the shoe repair shop, although he also owned joe’s diner, and joe’s news stand, and joe’s old fashioned ice cream parlor, in different parts of town. joe was also a dedicated revolutionary, and aspired to conquer the world, or at least a good chunk of it. joe was a great talker, always ready to expound on anything and everything with total confidence and conviction, especially on subjects he knew nothing about, and ideally, had never even heard of. omar khayyam often sought joe out, when he had some spare time from his duties as a test administrator. he enjoyed palavering with joe, as joe reminded him of the men and boys he had grown up with, in the bazaars and open air markets in the old country, back in the day. the shoe repair shop, though joe kept it open as much as eighteen hours a day, did not do much walk in business. joe’s specialty was weaponry grade steel tips for all sorts of footwear, and this business was mostly done by mail. on this particular morning, however, omar did not find joe alone. he found him talking to pete, one the several hangers on or errand runners he kept around his various establishments. pete was a dreamy young man who was more often found at the diner or the ice cream parlor, usually plucking dolefully on an ever present twelve string guitar. pete was trying to explain something to joe. joe did not seem very interested in what pete was saying, but omar had known joe - and many other joes back in the old country - long enough to know that that meant nothing, and joe might well be very interested. “start over,” joe was saying. “it does not sound like much to me, but i want to make sure.” “but i didn’t even see the guy,” pete protested. “andrea saw him, and i am just telling you what she said.” “i know that. just tell me exactly what she said, and we can go from there.” without bothering to say hello to either joe or pete, omar sat down in one of the comfortable old chairs joe kept for visitors. 27. cold

ask for mister black and tell him red sent you - 25. the incendiaries

by nick nelson

part twenty-five of twenty-nine

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andrea watched the dufus looking guy in the delivery man’s uniform trudge back to his van. he got into it and took off quickly, down wayne toward main street, without circling back or passing andrea. what was that all about? probably nothing. but just in case there was, she would have to tell pete and woody, and then they would tell joe, and you never knew with joe, he might just shrug it off - or, he might make a very big deal out of it indeed. with a sigh, andrea took a key out of her pocket and opened the door of the diner. she shook the rain off her umbrella, folded it up and brought it behind the counter. she switched the lights on. * barry decided to forget about his dream, and 53 wayne street, and his new life, and the world’s old and new religions, and just get to the office and make his deliveries, and not think about anything except making the deliveries until he finished them. he had always prided himself on being able to put aside his worries - even when the twins or the cubs suffered some really heartbreaking losses - and just do his job. * pete arrived at the same time he did every morning - as soon as andrea had finished getting the diner set up, so that there was almost never anything left to do that she might suggest that he help out with. as a member of the gang, pete did not have to pay for his coffee and donut. at least he went behind the counter and got them himself, instead of waiting for andrea to get them for him. when the gang had first set up the diner as their headquarters, pete and woody and the two johns had taken for granted that andrea and susan would wait on them whenever they were in the diner, either because they had been summoned there, or when they were just hanging out. andrea and susan had complained to joe, and joe had taken their side. the four had been somewhat consternated by his decision, but after a little bit of grumbling and headscrathing, had not thought it worth their while to argue with joe about it. not that any of them were much for arguing with joe about anything. of the four, pete spent the most time in the diner, usually with his guitar. sometimes, when there were few or no customers in the place, mournfully plunking on it and humming to himself, but most of the time just staring into space. this morning, after pete had poured his coffee and was deciding whether to have a plain doughnut or a sugar doughnut, andrea described her encounter with the inquisitive delivery man. “doesn’t sound like much to me, the guy got lost in the rain, that’s all.” “i didn’t like his looks,” andrea insisted. “and that crap about mickey or mumbo or whatever, it sounded like he was going to give a secret password.” “he was looking for 53? this isn’t 53, it’s 57.” “maybe there is somebody in 53 who is watching us, ever think of that?” pete rolled his eyes. “well, what do you want me to do about it?” “tell joe. i think he should know about it.” “fine. i'll tell him when he comes in.” pete picked up his coffee and donut and started to move around the corner to his booth by the window. “his” booth, which he had worn down a sagging spot in. “he might not come in.” “he will come in eventually.” “maybe. i think you go tell him now.” “in this rain? look at it.” the rain was, in fact, coming down harder than ever. “besides, he might not be up.” “what do you mean, he won’t be up? he never sleeps.” “but - do you really think it’s that important?” pete pleaded, looking down at his steaming coffee “i tell you what,” andrea said, “i will go, you can stay here and mind the store. how is that?” “all right, all right, i’ll go. but can i have my coffee first?” “of course. nobody is forcing you to do anything. where are we, in argentina?” 26. joe