Desperate Remedies

Chapter 1

The alarm clock's speakers shattered the blissful peace by blasting the chorus of Highway to Hell. Noah Vale needed the shock to wake up at 4:30 A.M. He stood up and stretched. For the last 10 years, it signaled another mundane day for Noah at Omni-Forge Industries. His wife of 15 years still laid there as the weather forecast began.

"Lauren, get up or I'll be late," he said, finding her still in bed when he finished his morning routine.

"C'mon, I got ten minutes left." He gathered his things to leave. Lauren got up and made breakfast. Noah sat down to eat. "Great! You burned the toast again." He dipped his toast in the eggs and discovered raw egg white, "and you didn't cook the eggs enough, either."

"If you can do better, then you are free to make your own breakfast," she said, as if reading a script.

He complained every morning, and she always retorted.

Lauren poured some java and sat at the table in their tiny row-house kitchen. "I need money for groceries."

Noah opened his billfold and handed her a twenty. She stared at the bill. He hesitated and reached into his wallet again.

"That's more like it." She took a sip of her coffee and stood up. He gathered his tan jacket and metal lunchbox. Lauren walked over to him, looked him in the eyes, and their lips met.

"I gotta go or I'll miss my bus."

"I love you. Be careful," and she let him escape from her arms. He turned and went out the door.

Streetlights cast irregular shadows as the chilly breeze scattered the colorful leaves down the sidewalk.

I'm on time. Everybody is still there.

The regular 5:30 group gathered under the small shelter. As traffic on Chestnut Street picked up, the bus arrived amidst exhaust fumes and sarcastic comments about finding a seat.

The driver pulled up, almost dousing everyone as it emptied a nearby mud puddle. The doors opened and the waiting riders entered, throwing their fares into the coin catcher.

Unable to find a seat, Noah took his usual standing spot by the exit, squeezing past the other passengers. At the third station, he exited and descended into the subway.

He pushed his way through the gathered herd. Announcements blared, and a train stopped for people traveling in the other direction. The crowd thinned, and he positioned himself where his car would stop.

A minute later, the #13 arrived with singing wheels and brakes. The commuters rushed the wide doors and filed in. Noah grabbed his pole, since riders from previous stations occupied the seats. Just two stops and a single block away from work. Half the car's passengers abandoned the subway at the first stop and Noah sat for the last leg of his ride.

He followed the lemmings through the open doors and up the escalators. Few chatted, knowing what the day held for them. Every day was identical. Head to the lockers. Don the greasy aprons. Meander to your stations. The smell of grease, paint, cutting oil and its fumes, and dirt was ever present. The plant’s interior resembled a gloomy dungeon. Marcus found his station and relieved the operator from the night shift.

The punch press droned amidst the chorus of competing machinery. The finished metal fell into the yellow bin on a pallet. Noah checked the coolant lines. Nearby, lathes and milling machines filled the air with an oily scent. He popped the orange flag out, signaling the forklift driver as his container neared capacity.

An eerie whistle overtook the cacophony of machinery. The floor vibrated. “Hey George,” he called to the fellow at the machine beside him, “what’s your take on that?” The whistling grew louder and louder until everyone took notice.

"I'm not sure," as he pointed, "but look." Noah observed a worried supervisor approaching fast, with dread on his face. Noah looked at everybody around him and perceived fear on their faces.

The floor trembled like an earthquake. In his last moments, he witnessed debris flying, the foreman tumbling, and workers crashing into machinery. The sound was deafening and the flash blinding.

Silence and blackness ensued.

*

The alarm clock's speakers shattered the blissful peace by blasting the chorus of Highway to Hell. Noah Vale needed the shock to wake up at 4:30 A.M. He stood up and stretched. For the last 10 years, it signaled another mundane day for Noah at Omni-Forge Industries. His wife of 15 years still laid there as the weather forecast began.

"Lauren, get up or I'll be late," he said, finding her still in bed when he finished his morning routine.

"C'mon, I got ten minutes left." He gathered his things to leave. Lauren got up and made breakfast. Noah sat down to eat. "Great! You burned the toast again." He dipped his toast in the eggs and discovered raw egg white, "and you didn't cook the eggs enough, either."

If you can do better, then you are free to make your own breakfast," she said, as if reading a script…

*

The alarm clock shattered the blissful peace at 4:30 A.M. in the middle of Highway to Hell. Noah stood up and stretched. Another mundane day at work awaited him? This can't be happening to me again. Is this what they mean by déjà vu?

"Lauren, get up or I'll be late," he said, finding her still in bed when he finished his morning routine.

"C'mon, I got ten minutes left." He gathered his things to leave. Lauren got up and made breakfast. Noah sat down to eat. "Great! You burned the toast again." He dipped his toast in the eggs and discovered raw egg white, "and you didn't cook the eggs enough, either."

"If you can do better, then you are free to make your own breakfast," she said as if reading a script…

The #13 arrived a minute later with singing wheels and brakes. The commuters rushed the wide doors and filed in. Noah grabbed his pole, since riders from previous stations occupied the seats. Two stops and a block to work. Half the car's passengers abandoned the subway at the first stop and Noah sat for the last leg of his ride.

He followed the lemmings through the open doors and up the escalators. Few chatted, knowing what the day held for them. Every day was identical. Noah stopped outside the factory and watched everybody file into the building.

"What are you doing, Noah? You're going to be late," Jack hollered.

"I'm coming," and watched the last of them file into the employee entrance. Soon the night shift was filing out. Something was needling Noah. If I'm right, it won't be long now.

He heard a faint whistle increasing in volume. Any second now…

The building exploded in a mass of debris. People soared through the air, along with glass and bricks. Noah smiled. Ha. I knew it. I knew this would happen. But how did… BAM!

Noah laid pinned under an oversize pipe that once was part of the factory.

Silence and blackness ensued.

*

The alarm clock shattered the blissful peace at 4:30 A.M. in the middle of Highway to Hell. Noah stood up and stretched. Another mundane day at work awaited him? Hmmm. Back here again. Okay. I'll just avoid work today, that should do it…

Lauren poured some java and sat at the table in their tiny row-house kitchen. "I need money for groceries."

Noah opened his billfold and handed her most of the cash in his wallet. "Will that do? Go to the beauty shop today. Treat yourself!"

Lauren smiled, "Wow! What's gotten into you?"

"I gotta go or I'll miss my bus."

"I love you. Be careful," and she let him escape from her arms. He turned and went out the door…

The regular 5:30 group gathered under the small shelter. As traffic on Chestnut Street picked up, the bus arrived amidst exhaust fumes and sarcastic comments about finding a seat.

Noah smiled as he watched the driver pull up, almost dousing everyone else as it emptied a nearby mud puddle. The doors opened and the waiting riders entered, throwing their fares into the coin catcher.

Unable to find a seat, Noah took his usual standing spot by the exit, squeezing past the other passengers. The third station came and Noah watched the usual crowd exit the bus. Multiple seats became open, and he took one.

Noah smiled. I won't be anywhere near that factory when it blows. The bus continued on down Chestnut Street for a couple of stops. Hmmm. I don't remember ever seeing this part of town. His bus prepared for a left turn onto Madison Street, waiting for the morning rush traffic to offer an opening.

The bus proceeded through the turn and traversed the multi-track RR crossing. In the midst of the crossing, Noah directed his attention to the left window and witnessed a blinding light that was ominously near the bus. BAM! The fast moving freight train t-boned the city bus.

Silence and blackness ensued.

*

The alarm clock shattered the blissful peace at 4:30 A.M. in the middle of Highway to Hell. Noah stood up and stretched. Another mundane day at work awaited him? Hmmm. Back here again, just as I suspected…

"I gotta go or I'll miss my bus."

"I love you. Be careful," and she let him escape from her arms. He turned and went out the door…

The regular 5:30 group gathered under the small shelter. As traffic on Chestnut Street picked up, the bus arrived amidst exhaust fumes and sarcastic comments about finding a seat.

Noah smiled as he watched the driver pull up, almost dousing everyone else as it emptied a nearby mud puddle. The doors opened and the waiting riders entered, throwing their fares into the coin catcher.

Unable to find a seat, Noah took his usual standing spot by the exit, squeezing past the other passengers. Noah yanked the cord, signaling the driver to halt at the next station. As he made his way through the gaping doors, his friend George's voice rang out, "Noah! Where in the world are you headed? You're gonna be late for work, man!"

Noah pivoted, offering a casual wave. "Don't sweat it. I'll catch up," he called back, pivoting on his heel and striding purposefully toward the heart of downtown.

The early hour painted the streets in a tranquil hush, devoid of the usual bustling chaos. Noah's footfalls echoed against the quiet sidewalks as he ventured deeper into the city's core. Up ahead, a flurry of activity surrounded a towering construction site, workers swarming like industrious ants erecting a shimmering new high-rise.

He slowed his pace, craning his neck to study the intricate latticework of steel beams jutting defiantly into the morning sky. A grudging respect swelled within him for the sheer audacity of man's endeavors, wrestling such imposing edifices from the raw elements through sheer force of will.

As he neared the site, the shouts and banter between the workers became audible. The rhythmic clanging of machinery and the acrid scent of sawdust filled the air as Noah navigated the labyrinth of half-built structures. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease, as if the towering skeletons of steel and concrete were watching his every move.

Rounding the corner, Noah’s gaze fell upon a crew working diligently on the skeletal frame. Without warning, a deafening screech of twisting metal pierced the air. Time seemed to slow as a massive steel beam came hurtling down, its rusted edges glinting in the morning sun.

Noah's eyes widened, his body frozen in shock as the deadly projectile descended upon him. In a sickening crunch of bone and flesh, the beam made impact, crushing him in an instant.

Silence and blackness ensued.

*

The alarm clock's speakers shattered the blissful peace by blasting the chorus of Highway to Hell. Noah Vale stood up and stretched. Another mundane day at work awaited him? Hmmm. Back here again.

Noah almost slammed the alarm clock off. Highway to Hell my foot. Who is doing this?

Okay. Two can play that game.

"Lauren! Get up. I have something to tell you…"

Chapter 2

The cavernous chamber stretched out before them, its sheer vastness dwarfing the feeble illumination that trickled in. Shadows clung firmly to every crevice and cranny, casting an ominous pall over the intricate honeycomb pattern etched into the towering walls.

A kaleidoscopic labyrinth of conduits and hoses snaked across the surface, disrupting the cellular design's regularity. The chamber's immense scale rendered its far reaches invisible, obscured by the endless stretch of shadows that embraced the unknown.

The chamber pulsated with an eerie, surreal glow, illuminating the intricate machinery that snaked across its vast expanse. Gralzik and Zyrax, their forms silhouetted against the otherworldly backdrop, drained the last dregs of their energy drinks as the human specimen retracted from the docking station.

With practiced efficiency, they checked the specimen's life support systems, ensuring the connections remained intact. "Start diagnostics on the continuity module," Zyrax commanded, his voice cutting through the ambient hum like a blade.

Gralzik quickly opened the access panel, deft hands attaching the red and yellow leads to the test posts. "Make sure the cables to his brain remain secure, or we'll lose him," Zyrax cautioned, urgency edging his tone. Shooting a scowl in Zyrax's direction, Gralzik retorted, "I've done this before. Stop treating me like a rookie."

Zyrax's expression hardened, eyes narrowing. "Then be careful. There's no telling how much longer we'll be doing this." Gralzik's gaze flickered across the far left monitors, his movements methodically swift.

"Hook up the test extractor while you're at it," Zyrax added impatiently. Exasperation crept into Gralzik's tone. "Will you relax? I only have four hands!"

Zyrax's gaze sharpened. "Step it up; we'll never finish. There are another seventy-three prisoners to check in our sector." Rolling two of his eyes, Gralzik muttered, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's always the same. I'll be glad when the next shift gets here. I hate these long hours."

"Don't think about that now. Concentrate on your job. We'll finish faster." Zyrax plugged in a sabitron, fiddling with its settings. "There. That should make the input smoother. Do you have the test extractor attached yet?"

"In a minute. Be patient," Gralzik snapped, attention locked on the readings. Zyrax's gaze swept over the vast sea of specimens. “How did we get this many, anyway?”

Gralzik's brow furrowed as Zyrax explained with clinical detachment, “The old numbers we abducted from trailer parks and remote areas were not sustaining our needs. But through the extensive experiments they conducted, I heard they feed the ones that survived a special syrup that transforms their waste into Rathic gold. You know how valuable chizzak is.”

"So, once our Rathic Science and Health Ministry solidified that this discovery profited us, they convinced the higher-ups to allow a full-scale operation to capture every inhabitant of the planet."

"So, how long do these specimens last?"

"With the current setup, and if nobody makes a mistake, we can sustain them indefinitely," Zyrax replied, adjusting the green readout with practiced ease.

Throwing two hands up in exasperation, Gralzik exclaimed, "Wonderful! That means we're saddled with the maintenance on them forever." He sighed, shoulders sagging. "So now we're stuck with this job. Do you think they'll ever let us have longer breaks?"

A hint of a smirk played across Zyrax's features. "Look at the bright side. We'll never run out of energy drinks. Now stay focused!"

Gralzik removed the leads and closed the access panels with a resigned air. "Are you going to adjust his life loop?"

"No," Zyrax flicked a hand. "Programmers have already optimized his and all prisoners' scenarios for maximum fluid secretion. We rarely have to deal with that. Ha! They won't be giving us any trouble. They think they are still on their planet."

With a push of the red button, Gralzik sent Specimen #2493G271 retreating from the docking station, its form disappearing into the sea of human specimens that filled the cavernous chamber, their fates intertwined with the whims of their Rathic overlords.

Chapter 3

Gaiety and raucous laughter reverberated through the opulent Kezari banquet hall, the air thick with indulgence. Four-armed carcasses lay lavishly roasted atop enormous platters, garnished with vibrant bursts of colorful fruit. Bowls brimmed with poached eyeballs, relishing in a rich, gourmet Kezari butter sauce that lent an intoxicating aroma to the extravagant spread.

"Pass me another arm, Malkron," a voice called out amidst the festive din, the demand dripping with casual indulgence.

Malkron's lips curled in an amused smirk as he turned towards his companion. "How many are you going to eat?" Vrakk queried, his tone laced with a hint of bemused disbelief.

A deep, rumbling laugh escaped Malkron's throat as he cradled another succulent limb. "Does it matter?" he retorted, his words punctuated by the sizzle of roasting flesh. "We have more than enough, ha ha ha!"

Vrakk's laughter mingled with Malkron's, their shared mirth filling the opulent hall. "Yeah!" he exclaimed, his eyes glinting with wicked delight. "And ever since we showed the Rathics how to make that addictive energy drink, they've never tasted better."