The Fall by M. Pax

We are excited to welcome science fiction author, M. Pax to LQR this month. She has graciously shared her exciting interpretation of this month's freedom theme. Please help us show our appreciation by sharing the link to her story with your friends and family!

Imprisoned by a mysterious alien enforcer, humanity’s last hope must battle for the right to a future.

***

If Galloway didn’t let me go soon, humanity would be lost, and the galaxy’s sentries would crown a less-deserving victor. My breaths chafed, my pulse labored, and my eyelids throbbed. The days passed by too long.

All the enhanced traits my ancestors had endowed me with slipped away. To conserve what energy remained, I knelt unmoving in a puddle of light leaking in from the top of the east wall, watching the sliver dance on my wrists. Silver on silver.

The mulcer next door paced, growling. I could smell its foul drool, hear it splashing to the ground. The beast wanted to kill me. Time would beat it to the task. My vigor bled with every heartbeat into the unyielding alloy beneath me.

The alien technology, or whatever Galloway was, chose that moment to answer my plea. The wall in front of me evaporated. I didn’t have to be told to run toward the portal— the transport to the planet.

I had to fight the mulcer for a future. Its huge jaws snapped at me. Striped and scaly, its enormous head consisted mainly of teeth and eyes. Two bulbous pus-like irises sank every time the mulcer opened its mouth. Its breath reeked like burnt leaves dipped in tar left to molder in a steamy swamp then set on fire.

We raced for the portal to claim the rights to the planet. Not willing to let my unborn heirs down, I dug in, tapping into every souped-up trait that could help me triumph—speed, endurance, increased lung capacity and blood flow, tenacity, and valor.

The beast inched ahead of me, gliding along on the slime trail it shed. Thinking only of what failure meant—never another chance—I sprinted toward the orange glowing sphere, eking two steps in front of the mulcer. At that point, I leaped. Arms straight out, body reaching, I dove into the portal.

In a nanosecond, I materialized on humanity’s new world. Unfortunately the mulcer did, too. It pounced, jaws straining for my throat. Swinging a foot, I kicked it in the teeth then jumped for a tree branch. I kept hold, pulling up my legs, staying out of the mucler’s reach. It grunted, bounding to the trunk, clumsily making its way up.

Its slow progress gifted a reprieve and allowed me to survey what would be Earth Three. The ground rolled in burps and swells. Lizardish beetles sang, furry eely beasts with wings squawked, and some squid-like creature scurried under the brush. We rocked together, riding a moss ocean that spanned the horizon in an unbroken prairie, a treasure trove upon which my progeny would thrive.

My people had come to the stars to start over and had succeeded once. We’d do so again. We were so much better than the mulcers, the outcast army of an extinct race. They only knew how to hunt and kill.

My enemy scrambled out on the branch, teetering. I kicked at its pus eye. It roared, showering me with malodor and slime. Its hold slipped, but before it fell, it sprang, wrapping its ropey fingers around my neck, squeezing. Gravity added a wallop to our fight, and with a thud we landed, the mucler on top. I dug at its eyelids, biting, spitting. I punched and tore at it’s flesh.

From the sky a chime gonged, gaining in volume until it struck a tone that rendered me motionless. The mulcer, too. We froze in the throes of mutual murder.

Fuzzy tickles plucked at my brain, intruding, shoving their way into my thoughts. My mind received a scrubbing, at least it felt that way. Once I was thoroughly violated, an arc appeared above the mulcer’s slobbering maw, pulsating, flickers sparking through its foamy pink mist.

Two hammering heartbeats passed, and it spoke. “I told Galloway to get rid of you by bringing you to me.” The arc paused, scalding everything between my temples. “Round two of the contest begins. Think why you deserve this world. Winner gets it.”

No way would the mulcer win. Humanity had risen from a better foundation than genocide. Hope thumped, giving me strength, and I recalled all I knew, singing the praises of my illustrious forefathers. Humanity creates civilizations, is highly intelligent, and can think beyond itself. We’ll make the most of this beautiful planet.

I couldn’t hear what the mulcer thought, but seconds later it screamed and jerked as if electrocuted by a billion volts. The puddle that remained of it oozed into the hiccupping land.

My heart rate slowed, and I grinned, preparing to set free the genetic sequences suspended in a sac in my abdomen. The genetic material would use me to sprout and begin mankind anew. Thank you for choosing me.

“Humanity didn’t win. The rolling ground beneath you did. It’s called an Arith.”

I couldn’t form a single thought, at least none I understood.

“A race’s right to survive is not absolute. Humans were ruled for extinction an epoch ago when Earth Two fell. They had their second chance and blew it.”

But…

“Despite the outcome, you’re allowed to stay.”

Me? As the last human? What an honor.

“You’re not human. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for others earns you a place here if you let me erase your faulty programming and dump the subpar genetic material you carry.”

I couldn’t bear the thought of imprisonment on Galloway again. The arc heard me and shoved my thoughts aside until I lay empty. I drank in all that the Arith was and watched it and the planet mature. Without protest, the mossy thing gave its heart and vitality to the advancement of new life. Nothing could be nobler, no being could ever have higher purpose.

A slender purple creature hatched reminiscent of a salamander with a long neck and limbs. It’s song vibrated my biomechanics into smiles. I asked the Arith to mold me in its image, surrendering my silver body and electronic nodes. Now I could live and die. I had free will, and I had evolved.

***

M. Pax is author of the space adventure series The Backworlds, the urban fantasy series The Rifters, plus other novels and short stories. Fantasy, science fiction, and the weird beckons to her, and she blames Oregon, a source of endless inspiration. She docents at Pine Mountain Observatory in the summers as a star guide, has a cat with a crush on Mr. Spock, and is slightly obsessed with Jane Austen. mpaxauthor.com

The Price of Freedom by Mary Waibel

"Freedom isn't free. It's paid for by the blood and sweat of our soldiers."

~Author Unknown

***

I stared at the empty desk as Mr. Richardson droned on about our founding fathers and the sacrifices they’d made for our great nation. Normally I couldn’t wait to hear his tales of the past, but today the present weighed heavily on my mind.

How are you coping? Are you outside in the batting cage the three of you made together, absorbing the vibrations of the bat as you hit ball after ball? Or are you sitting in your room, blaring your black metal tunes through your headphones, drowning out the world and your memories?

I wanted to be there, to be the support that Evan needed, but my parents refused to let me. Oh, they told me it was because they didn’t want me to intrude on this personal, family time. But I was certain it was because they didn’t want me to have an unexcused absence on my record. Like that mattered when his entire world had been ripped apart.

So I’d painted on a happy face and dressed in my go-to comfort clothes. The short denim skirt that alway drew Evan’s eyes to my legs. The warm-up jersey with his number. And my beat-up white Keds. If my friends noticed my fake smile and overbright laugh, none of them said anything. They’d just hugged me, no questions asked, and offered me the kind of support I’d wanted to give Evan.

“Freedom isn’t free.” Mr. Richardson’s words blared in my ears, pulling me from my thoughts. “It’s paid for by the blood and sweat of our soldiers. This payment began with the first man who willingly gave their life in pursuit of our nation’s freedom. And it extends into the future with every man and woman who pledge their lives in defense of our nation.”

Tears burned, and I blinked them back, angered at his audacity to talk about the price of freedom today. Yesterday, that price had hit too close to home. I thought word would have spread like wildfire through our community, but no one else seemed to have heard anything. The only reason I had learned what happened was because I had been at Evan’s home when the military officers came to break the news to his family.

The officer didn’t say much about what happened, just that Kyle had willingly sacrificed his life to save the men in his unit. He was a true hero. A patriot.

While the accolades were nice, they didn’t ease the grief. The loss. The drowning senselessness that permeated my mind.

Stunning disbelief turned to unbearable grief. Time lost all meaning as I held Evan as he sobbed over the loss of his brother Kyle. Listened to the stories the family shared about this man I had never met.

Kyle was only seven years older than Evan and me, but those few years seemed like a different generation. All I knew about him I’d learned from Evan. He had idolized his brother, wanting to be like him in every way. The best ball player. The best scholar. The only thing Evan hadn’t aspired to be was a soldier.

I felt cheated that I hadn’t gotten to meet Kyle, to see for myself what kind of man he was. I was supposed to meet him when he came home on leave in the summer. A leave that would never come. I wrapped my arms around my waist, holding in the anger I wanted to vent at the unfairness of it all.

I didn’t even know him and I’m angry, I can’t imagine how you and your parents feel.

The bell rang, and I jerked back to the present. Moving on autopilot, I gathered my books and shuffled off to my next class.

“Savannah?”

I turned toward the voice, my fuzzy mind taking a moment to recognize Ally, my best friend. She frowned and reached a hand out to me.

“What’s wrong?”

Tears trickled down my cheeks and I swiped them away. I didn’t answer. It wasn’t my story to share. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket, my breath hitching as I read the simple text.

I need you.

I fled down the hall and out the door, not stopping to sign out at the office. Not stopping to tell Ally what I was doing. All my focus was on getting to Evan.

At the end of the sidewalk I stopped and sent him a text. It wouldn’t do me any good to run to his house if he was somewhere else.

On my way. RU @ home?

No. At the bridge.

My heart stuttered, and I took off, running down the sidewalk, the need to be with him overwhelming. I knew he was safe. That he wouldn’t do anything stupid. No, the bridge was the place he went to when he needed to think, to find his path.

I cut through the field, my steps slowing as I neared the rickety planks. Evan leaned against the railing, his hands clenched around the faded wood, staring at the babbling brook below. My heart broke again seeing the depth of his loss. I sucked in a deep breath and stepped onto the bridge. The structure swayed, but I moved onward, stepping up behind Evan and wrapping my arms around him.

He stiffened then relaxed into my embrace, his hands anchoring me to him.

“He would have really liked you.” His voice rumbled under my ear, pain scarring his words.

I squeezed him, offering silent support. My actions telling him I was here for him, however he needed me to be.

After a few minutes, he released me and turned, his hands settling on my waist. His eyes were swollen and red, dried tears streaked his cheeks, and his hair looked like he’d tried to pull it out. Seeing him like this made me ache deep in my bones.

I cupped his cheek, wishing there was something I could do, something I could say to make this better. Easier. But there were no words to fix this. Nothing to fill the hole that would forever be in this family. My mother always talked about how time dulled the edges of the pain, but I couldn’t see how this pain would ever go away. No matter how much time passed.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my palm then leaned his forehead against mine and sighed. My hand drifted from his cheek to his back, rubbing in soothing circles.

“Thank you for meeting me here. I promise I’ll make it right at school.”

I pulled back, hooking my hands around his neck. “I’m not worried about that right now. None of that matters. What you need is all that matters right now.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear, the action familiar and grounding. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. I just talked to him two days ago. Right before he left for his mission.” His voice broke on the last word, and I leaned closer, resting my head on his chest, letting him draw from my strength. “Do you mind sitting here with me for a bit? I’m not ready to go back home yet. Mom and dad are…they’re trying to make arrangements, and I’m just in the way.”

“I’m here to do whatever you need me to do. If you want to sit, we’ll sit. If you want to throw baseballs, we’ll do that. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Savannah.” He buried his face in my hair and held me close for a moment. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

We settled on the deck of the bridge, our feet dangling over the water that bubbled and babbled ten feet below. Birds chirped as they flitted from branch to branch in the trees lining the brook. Overhead, the sky was summer blue and cloudless, too beautiful a setting for the emotions churning deep inside me.

“The Army Chaplain came back this morning.” He laced our fingers together, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, waiting for him to continue at his own pace. “He said Kyle’s unit came under attack. One of the men got hit and Kyle pulled him to safety before he was killed.” His breath turned ragged for a moment, and his Adam’s apple bumped the top of my head as he swallowed back his grief. “He was a hero, not just for me, but to his team.” His shoulder shook with his sobs. “We’re all going to miss him. The world will be a darker place without him in it.”

For a moment, my mind drifted back to Mr. Richardson’s words this morning. He was right. Freedom isn’t free. It’s paid for by the blood and sweat of our soldiers. And by the tears of those they leave behind.

***

My thanks and heartfelt gratitude to all the men and women who serve in our military, and the families who support them. We wouldn't be here without all of you. God bless you all!

I tried to find the source of the quote that started this story for me, but I could only find links to USMC tweet and the Seal of Honor FB page. (If you haven't see this page, check it out. It's quite moving!) If anyone knows who said it, I'd love to know!

***

This story is set in the same world as my new release, The Boyfriend Project. And yes, this is the same Evan you hear about there.

Twisting tales one story at a time. 

YA author Mary Waibel’s love for fairytales and happy-ever fill the pages of her works. Whether penning stories in a medieval setting or a modern day school, magic and romance weave their way inside every tale. Strong female characters use both brain and brawn to save the day and win the heart of their men. Mary enjoys connecting with her readers through her website: marywaibel.blogspot.com

***

July Theme: Freedom

The United States is coming off a landmark week with the U.S. Supreme Court making rulings in cases on same-sex marriage and universal healthcare. And with the U.S.’s Independence Day just a few days away, it’s a great time to be celebrating FREEDOM, our Lightning Quick Reads theme for July.

Of course, freedom isn’t just for Americans. And it isn’t only about big sweeping social movements. Freedom can be more personal than that. It can mean giving yourself the permission to be who you truly are. Or pushing yourself to pursue a dream long left on the shelf or to check off one thing on your bucket list. Perhaps your personal freedom lies in allowing yourself to succeed by ignoring those nagging doubts from others or from inside your own head. Even saying no to something that you don't want to do or to something that isn't working can be a powerful personal freedom.

This month, all the authors invite you to think about what freedom means to you and follow along with our characters as they search for freedoms of their own. So while my fellow Americans will be setting off fireworks and barbecuing, the sparks will be flying for everyone here on the blog with another set of amazing short stories, this month on FREEDOM!