All That Remains – Part 5

The rocket was ten by four by six meters and shaped like a stubby airplane.  The rear held seven large engines in a hexagon and the nose had a half-extended ramp to match the half-buckled supports on two of the three landing skids.  As Pez watched, leaning against a boulder in the shade of the parasol, a steady stream of bent parts and curses poured down the ramp.

“Not that it isn’t lovely out here, but how are you doing in there?”

Another bent piece of metal rang out as it flew down the ramp and joined the pile.

“It looks like the robos were actually fixing it after a fashion. I mean, all the guts are all over the place, but the computer still works. They fixed the power reactor – having previously shot it out from under me – and the anti-grav…” Mixie’s head popped down upside down, her short hair fanning out below her.  “Maybe they were trying to make a friend?” She grinned.

“Ah, again, levity. You humans are much more about levity than my people. I like it.”

Mixie retreated into the ship but continued to talk.  “Yeah well, it’s either laugh or cry.  And…’Your people?’ You mean, you’re not human?”

“Nope. I just look like this to keep you from being … thoroughly unhappy, though the Neplax are not so different from you, though. Bipedal, big head, scrawny.”

“Now who is making jokes.” Mixie started to squeeze through the partially open ramp to join Pez.

“Yeah. I believe you humans make jokes about things you find too painful to talk about directly. Ironic… your pain makes you funny. You touch things without actually … touching them this way, feeling the softness of the skin of a thing without confronting the …” Pez smiled at Mixie as she joined in the parasol’s shade. “…The fact that my metaphor has run off a cliff. Sorry.”

“Look, I know this is a sore subject, but you realize that I don’t actually believe much of your story, right?  I mean, what’s the most logical thing – explorer comes here, gets stranded, figures out how to live but loses their mind … OR you are god.”

“A god.  The Neplax were polytheistic.”  Pez sniffed.  “Is it possible that you have such a hard time with this because you, yourself don’t believe yourself worthy of love?”

“You are dodging the issue.”

“Yes, but it’s a brilliant dodge.”  Pez grinned, then pressed on.  “Why are you so resistant to possibilities?  You have been out in the universe and seen it’s wonders.  Why is this so challenging?”

The question hung for a moment.  Mixie showed new interest in her boot print in the sand. Finally, she sighed and said, “Your assertion is extraordinary, and you are putting it on me to justify my unwillingness to just take it on your word?  Come on.”  She walked around and scuffed at the sand.  “And besides, I’m a spy, Pez.  I kill people.  We’re in a war and my job is to gather intelligence that will get people killed and sometimes kill them myself.  And they are not all robots.  The only god I’m aware of frowns upon that shit.”

“So, you think that there are actions that make you less deserving of love?”

“Yes!  No!”  She kicked a rock “I don’t know!  You know, Pez, I am thoroughly uncomfortable talking so explicitly about this stuff.  Not to mention that I’m not at all convinced that you are not completely nuts.”

“Nuts?  Nuts!?  Of the residents of this conversation, there is exactly one who travels lightyears across space, bypassing the wonders of the spirit and the physical while armed and ready to murder people and destroy walking trashcans.  I tell you that I love you, without expectations, because that is what I do and how I feel and instead of that being warm and reassuring it gives you the willies and makes you barf up your every shortcoming and doubt.”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

“Nothing!  That’s the point!  I want you to be happy!  This murdering thing clearly isn’t doing it for you, now is it?  So stop.  And beating yourself up for what you’ve been told you must do to keep people you might one day love, because no one in their right mind goes out and kills strangers for no reason.  I’ve looked into your soul.  You aren’t the type.  Every one of those people haunts you.  You are … human for lack of a better word in your language.”  Pez trailed off with a mumbled, “Little ethnocentricity in that language choice, by the way.”

“Look, I’m sorry for not immediately buying your delusion.  I… I just… proof would help me.”

“But proof destroys the divinity of the divine.  Turns it into a tow truck.” Pez smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m not doing parlor tricks.  I do not want this to get in the way of our friendship, for I do believe you are my friend, Mixie.” Pez smiled and Mixie found herself smiling back.  “And the nice thing about my divinity is that I do not need you to believe me for me to continue to be” Pez posed with a flourish of the hand, “divine.”

Mixie snorted.  “Quite!  And Pez, you… you are my friend, as much as these few days at any rate… I just don’t know… And maybe, if you’ve got this delusion from some kind of trauma, I can maybe get you help.”

Pez sighed.  “Is it so bad a delusion?  I mean, if I’m truly mad and delusional, would this particular delusion be all that bad?  For me?  For you?  Would believing it really cause you any great harm?”

They sat in silence for a while.  Mixie drank from the canteen while Pez rifled through the backpack and brought out some toasted gecko and some roots cut into long sticks.

“That lunch?”

Pez smiled up.  “A picnic!”

“More gecko? I’d think with all your godness that you’d be a vegan.”

“I am not wasteful, nor do I delight in the killing, but food is important to you.  These beings are hearty and easy to trap.  And the greens of the roots here make a decent rub with the ever so plentiful salt.”

The two ate in silence for a while with Mixie taking heavy swigs from the canteen.

Finally, she asked, “So, what happened to them? Your people?

“Oh, a mix of things. Many of them fled this world. Too few… And not enough who would accept the old teachings enough to … let me go with them. I let them go with the love of a mother for her wayward child.” Pez sniffled, then added, “That’s one of my many aspects, you understand.”

“Of course,” Mixie smiled. “But I was more interested in why this world is so… dead. It’s got the ability to sustain life, but it just doesn’t.  Not the way it should.  It’s fucked up how much salt is everywhere.  You would think it would … I don’t know… migrate with rain or something?”

Pez packed up the rations and dusted one hand on the other. “Ah. Well. That’s both a simple and a complex story that’s best shown, not told. You said the ship was mobile, at least a little, any chance we can take it somewhere?”

“Actually yeah. I can anti-grav the thing and just throw the computer inside.  Won’t go much faster than walking, but… I don’t see much of a point. Rebuilding the rocket from scratch will take forever…”

“Well, I’m sure I could help you pass the time. I am the god of love after all. Billions of creatures have coupled in my name.”

A laugh erupted out of Mixie.  “That’s your pick-up line?” Pez continued to smile, which should have been unnerving, but it wasn’t.  “Yeah, and don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer, but … Pez? Are you male or female? I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Slinging the backpack over a shoulder, Pez said, “You humans are so cute! All ‘detail oriented.’ But suit yourself, the offer still stands to lie with a God. But come… Not all things on this planet are ruin.”

[Author’s note: Hi.  Trying to get this out before NaNoWriMo hits next week.  Please like if you care to spread the word of the site and my work (I could use it).  And feel free to look around.

Come November 1, I’ll be posting my daily NaNoWriMo output under the “Minions of the Orange Overlord” page.  With any luck it won’t be a total dumpster fire but I’ve probably only got about 5K worth of story in my head for it.  Luckily, those parts are the beginning, the middle, and the end, so I got that.

Hope you like the story so far.  It’s not that much longer but I’m doing a fair bit of editing, as with everything these days.

Stay Weird

-SC]

All That Remains – Part 4

Morning broke as a red haze above the planet. Mixie watched the local star split the horizon and light the ever-present dust clouds.  Her quick calculation told her that days here would be longer than Earth standard, but not so much as to completely goof up her sense of time.  Morning was still morning and noon was still fast approaching.  They burned this crimson daylight at their peril.  Night on this planet rivaled space for darkness.

As she scanned the motley landscape for any sign of threats or pitfalls, Pez plodded past her carrying a parasol. Despite herself, Mixie grinned at her companion. “You know, Pez, you really didn’t need to come out with me. This could be dangerous.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you roam out here by yourself!  I’m both touched by your concern and unconcerned about my wellbeing. And even if I was, I wouldn’t be. … Concerned that is. Sorry if that’s a bit of a tangle.” Pez waved and stared into the distance.

“No, I get it. And that is…”

“Because I am the selfless embodiment of love.”

Mixie pointed at Pez.  “Yeah, gotcha. That’s how you roll. Ship should be over that way, I think.”

“Yes, good.  Dead reckoning and all that.”  Pez looked over at Mixie as they walked side by side.  “You know, there is the not insignificant matter of your not giving yourself adequate time to heal from your injuries.  I can’t believe you didn’t tell me right away how hurt you were.”

Mixie shrugged.  “Didn’t really know until I took off the suit.  Got hit in the thigh and the hip.  Didn’t really want you gawking.”

“How…“ Pez shook with the effort of finding the word. “…Puritanical!  Really!  And here I thought you were this practical soldier and all and you couldn’t let someone help you with your wounds without being all shy.  Be glad that silliness didn’t kill you.  There are still infectious organisms on this planet that I highly doubt you’ve had your shots for.”

Rolling her eyes, Mixie said, “Yes mother.”

“I am not your mother.” Pez smirked.  “If I were, you’d still be convalescing not hopping about the dunes after only a few days.”

“Yeah but… I thought you said that the geckos were a top predator here.”

“Predator yes, but a rockslide or a cave-in or a bad storm will make you just as dead.”

Mixie pressed her side.  “I’m fine.  I’m as mobile as I ever am, even if I’m not happy about it.”

They pressed on in silence, passing the edge of the plains and the strange rock columns.  The frozen bodies of the robos could be seen already being steadily eroded and covered by the sticky red dust and the corrosive white sand.  Past the pillars lay the shallow canyons and broken landscape in which she took refuge immediately following the crash.  Compared to that time of hiding from cover to cover, they made excellent time.

They came to a box at the end of one of the canyons and decided to climb up the dozen-odd meters to higher ground.  Mixie learned two things upon standing on this strange plateau.  One is that it was noon.  The other was that she was not the only thing the Robos had troubled on this planet.

“Well, there she is. Fuck!” She dropped her binoculars. “I sorta figured the robos would mess with the old girl, but this…”

“Is not entirely space-worthy,” Pez finished for her.  The ship was still a good way off but it was obviously partially disassembled.

Mixie shook her head.  “To say the least.  Fucking Flange!”

For a moment the two just stood, surveying the damage from afar, and then Pez used the folded parasol as a cane and precariously started across the precarious landscape to the ship.

“Come on, bitching will not help. You may as well see exactly how bad it is.”

“Is that some sort of love thing?”

Pez smiled up at her as she continued to pout.  “I believe you’d call it tough love, but not really. I just understand that if you didn’t work on the ship you’d be simply miserable company. Intolerable!”

All That Remains – Part 5

[Author’s note: I had a “great idea” for a piece that went before this one that, upon reflection, sucked with the power of a supermassive black hole.  Sorry it broke the string of posts for the people following this in real time.

Please like or follow to help grow the site if you enjoyed this.  It helps get the attention of the robots out there.  Nice robots, not Robos.  Also, check out the other things I’ve offered up on the site.  I definitely do weird fiction, but I try to hit diverse topics.

And most of all, Stay Weird

-SC]

All That Remains – Part 3

Through the curtain and down a hall, a much brighter and utilitarian room opened up.  In contrast to the high ceilings and echo of the front room, this room had human dimensions.  More important, in the center of the room held a large table adorned with big dishes of different foods and pitchers of drink.  Mixie dug into it with abandon.

“I take it the food is to your liking?” Pez said with a smile and just a hint of revulsion.

“Yeah!”  Mixie said through a mouth full of something starchy.  “This is great! A real lifesaver. I’ve been going on rations for a while. It’s…”

“A miracle?”

“I was going to say wonderful, but I guess it’s that too.”

Pez sauntered around the kitchen.  “I am so glad you like it. I get so very few opportunities to entertain, you understand.”

Mixie cast a wary eye while continuing to eat.  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful or nothing, but, what are you doing here?”

“I’m feeding the hungry.”  The tall man made a display of looking off into the distance.  “I believe it’s called a form of charity where you come from.”

“No, I mean, you’re out here in the middle of nowhere with enough power to take out a robo pursuit pack. And let me tell you, we could really use what you’ve got.”

“Yes. Yes, you could.”

“So, what gives?”

“Why I do. I give without the expectation of repayment. It’s one of the things I do.”

“No, I mean, why are you here with enough firepower to save my behind?”

“I’m…” Pez started to say with a grand air and then stopped.  He eyed the eating woman and sat down on an adjacent stool.  “Mixie, you are not likely to believe me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. For you would like the truth, but it runs counter to your beliefs.”

Mixie frowned.  “I’ve only been here an hour and you think you know what I’d believe?  I believe what I can see and I saw you, or something you did, save me.  Why do you think I wouldn’t believe you?”

“Because I know your heart, Mixie.”  He stood up and struck a grand and dramatic pose. “You see, I am the god of love.”

The last word hung in the air and dropped into silence as Pez retained an exagerated pose.  Inspite of herself, Mixie started to giggle.  When he broke his pose by glancing sideways at her the tension of the past days broke out in full out laughter.

“Ah! Levity!” He became once again friendly and happy. “I Adore levity! Yes, you’ve found an incongruity and as such you laugh. I’m most pleased!”

“And mad as a hatter.  You? You’re the god of love?”

“Well,” Pez became defensive. “A god of love, yes. More specifically the god of love to the people of this world.”

Mixie looked around.  “But Pez, this world… It’s a rock. No one lives here.  I did scans before I lande… Ok, so I crashed, really. And I was under fire, but … I’ve been here a couple of days and all I’ve run into are little gecko-looking things.”

“Yes. So, you can see why I haven’t had much company lately, and I do so enjoy entertaining.”

“You’re mad.” she said, still chuckling. “But fine. Keep your secrets.”

“I assure you that I have no secrets, only mysteries.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, because …” She waved a fork in the air.  “yeah.”

Pez continued to be a gracious host, but became short and miffed.  “I told you you would not believe me. Regardless, I am who I am and you are welcome to stay and heal. I grant you the sanctuary of my altar.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Mixie scraped a fork across her plate, but noticed the sudden chill in the room.  “Hey.  It’s.  I didn’t mean to be … It just … I’m sorry.  Your pronouncement just hit me funny.  I didn’t mean to laugh.”  She looked up.  “That is, I didn’t mean to laugh at you.  That was wrong.”

Pez started to clean the empty dishes and take them over to a sink set into the stone of the wall. “Apology accepted,” came from the turned back in a way that meant that it wasn’t, at least not fully.

After a few moments of awkward silence Mixie tried again. “Hey, listen. I am going to need to get to my rocket so I can at least try to get out of here. Not that you don’t have a very nice… altar, but there is a war on out there in the galaxy.”

“I’m aware of your wars.” Pez said coldly, still cleaning the dishes.

“Really?  This place just seems… remote.  Do you have some kind of hyperspace uplink or something?”

“I have no need for your technology so I do not possess it.”

“Yet you have stores, can lay out this kind of spread.  How can you do that without technology?”

“In the face of love, all things are known. Plus, I’m a God remember? It does come with a few… perks.”

Mixie shrugged.  “Whatever you say. You don’t happen to have a perk that will just grab my space ship and drag it here, do you?”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit weak at the moment. After centuries with nothing but my pets, it’s been quite the busy morning. Exhilarating!”

“I’m glad I could get you warmed up… Look, Pez, that thing you used to make the robos self-destruct, that’s a damned handy thing. Can you at least consider telling me how it works?”

“You are unconvinced of the reality of my being. However, I am pleased that you do not find me to be a threat to you, because I am not. You amuse me. But you will find that I am not good with your technology nor am I a fitting replacement for it. Love is not a tow truck.”

“Shame. I’d love a tow truck right about now.”

“Ah, more levity!  That one I get!” A smile stretched across Pez’s face and for the first time, Mixie had the presence of mind to examine it.  Pretty, with eyes that were a little sunk and a nose slightly too big, but not so much that it made the face unfriendly.  If anything, the imperfections made the whole more relatable and endearing.  In the face of that draw, Mixie became more curious.

“So, you know of the war going on, yet remain here?  In a place not exactly rich in resources?  You must trade.  Who are you allied with?  The Alien Federation?  The Floon Empire?  The Bakag Holding?  You aren’t allied with the Terran Colonies or else you’d have been marked on my navigation map and you clearly aren’t with the Robo Central Collective.”

“I am with them all.  And none.  Well, all except for maybe the purely synthetic ones. Those are as rocks to me.” Pez waved a hand.  “You are curious, cautious, likely paranoid and distrustful.  Fortune placed you within my influence and you are rightly wary of fortune.  I will not judge as that is not in my nature.   But I have no place in your war and will take no sides, even yours.”

“But the Robos…”

“… have no love and no life. I will not betray you but I do beg you not to bring your conflict to my world.  Now, as I mentioned, it’s been a long day.  I will leave you now. You will find quarters including a bath through that door. My chambers are through that door. I would be pleased if you would join me, for levity is not the only thing that gladdens my heart. You are very lovely, Mixie. I would like you to lie with me.”

“Um. thanks? I’m flattered and all but … I think I’ll just … turn in, if that’s OK.”

“Of course. The invite is open and there is no obligation. Overcome your caution and suspicion.  Love is patient and I have nothing but time.”

All That Remains – Part 4

All That Remains – Part 2

It was too good to be true.  Whatever it was knocked all of the robos totally dead, frozen in mid step.  After a moments rest, a few minutes from the first aid kit in her flight suit cargo pocket, she was up again and able to limp through some rudimentary recon.

Hope fled with the realization that she had no water, no map, no food and was injured.  No one knew where she was and she had set out in such a panic from the crash of the ship into the dust storm, neither did she.

“Time to pick a direction,” She said, just to hear something besides the wind.  Regarding the direction where the energy wave originated, she pointed and said, “Might as well be that way.”

 

The cliff was a surprise.  It rose across the desert like a wall and extended as far as the eye could see through the haze in both directions.  The door was an even bigger surprise.  It was high, wide and massive, made of stone and pitted with age.  When she touched it, it swayed effortlessly, but betraying its mass.  With one last look at the cliff face, impossible to climb, and the certain dry death of the desert, she readied her blaster and stepped into the darkness beyond the door.

“Hello?”  She felt stupid.  Nothing but trouble in here, but maybe there was water.

To keep the dust out, she turned and pushed the massive door shut again.

“Ah, you are house trained. Good!” a flippant voice said from the dark.

Mixie fired her blaster near but not at the voice and the report echoed off unseen walls.

The voice was unconcerned.  “But not so well mannered as to refrain from threatening your host. Ah well, Kids these days. So impetuous!”

“I’m…” Mixie caught herself.  She wasn’t sorry.  She had followed her training.  “Who are you? You don’t have the Robo voice.”

“Then I clearly am not a… what did you call them? ’Robos?’ Yes, definitely not one of those.”

Mixie hardened.  “Well then who are you?”

Soft footfalls padded in the dark.  Mixies eyes were adjusting and she could barely make out the room, a large rectangular hall made of stone.

“You see,” the voice instructed, “when one is caught breaking into a house, it is usually customary to make introductions, especially when the owner has had the grace to save you from certain unpleasantries at the hands of your ‘Robos.’

Her head swam but she kept her resolve.  “You did that?  Um… I’m Mixie. Now who are you?”  She stuck her blaster out for emphasis.

The room lightened slowly and a thin person trailing a robe stepped into better light.  “Hello Mixie,” the being said with a dramatic, unperturbed flair.  “I…  am Pez.”  The figure, draped in sheer robes and stuck in an exaggerated pose as the name echoed around the hall.

The echo died as Mixie continued to point her gun.  All at once the pose broke into an exasperated flap. “Well? Are you going to shoot? It seems a rather a curious way to say, ‘thank you for saving my life back there, with the ‘about to suicide’ and loss of limbs and all’ … But I suppose some cultures are just like that.”  The being crossed the room to a fountain and dipped a cup in, mumbling, “Seems rather rude to me, really…” The figure approached on soft feet and held out the cup.  “…or is it just that you’ve been running for so long that you no longer recognize kindness in strangers?”

Mixie considered it, then quickly lowered her weapon and slid it into her hip holster.

“Ah that’s better.  Isn’t that better?”  The being handed her the cup and she took it.

The room seemed to be much lighter now, though the corners were still lost in shadow.  The figure turned a door that had been lost in the shadows. She contemplated her hosts exposed back. “Mr. Pez…”

“Just Pez, if you please.”

“Fine, Pez.”  Her feet followed. “What are you doing here?”

The figure stopped with a hand on the doorway and half turned.  “Why, this is my home.  I putter about. What do YOU do at your home, young lady? And since it’s almost mid-day, I’m making lunch. Come,” Pez’s eyes wandered up and down Mixie. “You look like you could use some.”

All That Remains – Part 3

[Note: Thanks for reading.  Likes and follows are helpful for getting traffic flowing to the site again if you find the story amusing.  I’ll be back to my usual stories as well pretty soon.

Till then, Stay Weird

-SC]

All That Remains – Part 1

A lifeless wind pushed across an unforgiving planet.  Red iron desert and alkaline salts gave the wind grit, bite, and angry color, a color that reflexively spoke to the core of any sentient life form.  It said, you are not welcome here.

Mixie’s boots crunched over the gravel as she ran, blaster in one hand, useless infopod in the other.  She was glad for the stinging dust and its angry color but now that the wind was dying, the dust settled.  It no longer got in her eyes, but she would have cried a river of tears if it would have kept them from flying.

“Halt!” The robotic voice commanded from behind.

Hundreds of robotic soldiers emerged from the same dust storm and kept pace with the fleeing woman in her white flight suit.   With a clear target, the robots began shooting.

“Argh! Dammit!”  One blot grazed Mixie’s leg, slowing her progress as bolts flew everywhere.  The robots didn’t need good aim.  They had numbers.

“Mixie,” The voice said.  Mixie could hear the whir of it’s jet pack gaining elevation. “You are found to be guilty of espionage against the Flange. Your continued evasion proves your guilt.”

With a huff, Mixie twisted, ignoring the pain in her thigh and shot.  The graceless robot sputtered and crashed back to the ground, where the countless others walked over or around it.  Her glance back showed that very few were becoming airborne.  Not a good sign.  They wouldn’t waste energy flying if they had already calculated her capture as inevitable.  Another of the robots continued to speak.

“Destroying one of our rank will not save you. We will not tire. There are scores of us. We have your accomplices. We have your ship. We Have your data.  Soon all will be broadcast back to the Center.”

“Well then you don’t really need me, do you?”  She said between ragged breaths.  She was surprised when it answered.

“Need is irrelevant.  We have been mandated by The Center to retrieve your torso and head alive. Extraneous parts are to be left at the site of capture.”

“Great,” She said, looking across the plain.  In the distance, what looked like a forest of tall columns sprouted from the ground.  She sprinted to it as fast as she could limp.  It was good enough and she relished the feel of rocks under her boots.

From behind her, she heard the sound of the robots activating their hover units.  Maybe there was hope.  Acting on instinct, she dashed left through the odd pillars, hoping to throw off her pursuers.  A few fleeting moments gave her the impression that it might work, until a robot clumsily slid into her path.

She shot the robot full in the chest and turned back to the right.  They would know where she was.  They would all know.

And then the pillars were gone.  She ran out onto a plain every bit as flat as the one she had just left.  No time to think.  Run.

A massive bolt struck her and sent her tumbling to the ground. “Ah!” She screamed.  “No! no. Not … Not FAIR!” She considered her blaster, considered the taste of the barrel.  She was looking down that barrel when the sound of a hovering robot became louder and crunched down near her.

Looking up, the expressionless camera pods focused on her.  “You…”

She shot the robot dead center and it fell away from her.  As the rest of the robots crunched their way through the maze of pillars, Mixie tried to crawl away over the endless plain of sand. The robo she’d shot could no longer move, but it continued to talk. “Damage to one unit will not prevent your capture, Mixie.  We have been told that in times like this, you humans usually choose to genuflect to your deity.  You should do so now before you are disassembled.”

The shot tore through the crippled robot, obliterating it.  Mixie looked down the sight of the energy weapon and cursed herself for wasting time.  Flipping back over to her knees, she continued her painful crawl.  As the loping crunches grew louder, she knew she would know the taste of that barrel.

A wave of energy unexpectedly raced across the desert plain in front of her.  It looked like death, but at least a more tempting and complete death than a blaster bolt.  Mixie continued to crawl.  It washed over her like a blanket of static, loud and impressive.  Once it was gone, all the dust surrounding her stuck to her like a magnet and her wounds screamed from the sand and grit.

She clenched her teeth, but continued to crawl, and crawl, and crawl. She listened for the sound of robos crunching or flying that would be the signal to have a final meal of blaster bolt sandwich.  She listened, but nothing came.  Looking over her shoulder, she saw that her crawl had taken her only meters from the pillars, but out in the open.  Nothing came.  It was quiet, just her and the angry colored sand.

All That Remains – Part 2

[Note: This is a piece that’s not terribly long, but I’m putting it out in parts just to get back into the swing of writing.  August hasn’t been a terribly kind month and this is an attempt to break the logjam.

I’ll be back on The Strange and other projects soon. But until then, enjoy my emulation, update, and tribute to 1950’s sci-fi rendered in Liquid Wax.

Stay Weird

-SC]