Teresa's Gift Read online

  “I know.”

  Another lapse in sound.

  Perhaps his subconscious wasn’t ready to tell her. Every time he tried to share, the thoughts scooted around his mind, as if that information were too slick to grab. Calling Sheila was turning into a waste of time.

  “I’ll call later,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were all okay.”

  She hesitated. “Sounds good. We don’t want to run up your bill.”

  “I’ll try back tomorrow. Bye, Sheila.”

  “Randall?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I, I love you.”

  “I feel the same way, sis.”

  They disconnected.

  Not only had the call been awkward, but he felt drained, like he’d been reading a car instruction manual for ten minutes nonstop. They’d never had any long flowing talks, but…

  “Randy.” From the seed.

  He faced it.

  It rested on the plate. The same size and shape as before, but somehow it seemed larger.

  “Please come sit, Randall. We have urgent things to discuss.”

  Randall? Hearing the name gave him pause. No one besides Sheila ever called him that. He briefly wondered if it had heard them speaking, or if it could read his thoughts. His body tensed at the idea.

  He attempted to reply using only his mind: Can you hear me? Say yes and I’ll come sit down. Hello?

  He waited seconds, no response.

  He released a pent-up breath of relief. Aliens rooting around in his brain was the stuff of horror fiction.

  “You want me to sit?” He flinched as the boom of a shotgun rang out a few trailers down.

  After taking a moment to collect himself, he reminded himself this was Texas.

  “Yes, Randy. Please sit, but only if you are prepared for a revelation.”

  A rev-e-lation. He stepped closer, but then pivoted and retrieved another beer. He’d sip this one. This wasn’t going to be limited to some smart talk with an alien—it was going to be a revelation from another world. Gripping the beer fully allowed its cold to seep into his flesh. He cracked it, drank, and sat.

  “This may be very difficult even for you to understand, Randy,” the seed said. “Are you absolutely positive you want to hear my words? Once they are absorbed, they must be heeded and cannot be retracted.”

  “Of course I do.”

  Another swig, followed by a wiping of the brow.

  “We arrived on your planet at this exact time by design. We came in search of six special human beings. Six specific people who will shape the future of your civilization.”

  Randy’s mouth salivated. He licked his lips, swallowed.

  “My people possess no vocal cords. Yet we also communicate with vibrations, chaining them across the atoms that connect us. Our method is more strenuous, subtle, and personal. Randy, we have been transmitting you crucial information since your birth.”

  The words rocked his foundation. They felt accurate beyond measure and explained all kinds of things. A third party might think them crazy, but he knew their truth. That didn’t mean he’d pass on hearing their sweet truth one more time. “You have?”

  “Of course, verily, I think you know. Every major tenet you live by has made you capable of absorbing our knowledge. Randy, I can and will unlock the dormant sections of your brain. Guidance will be yours as you develop understanding and abilities that no human has ever conceived. Only six of the thousands of selected subjects adhered to our encouraging and can now accept the gift we offer. These few people will use it for the betterment of your world and, through that, the universe.”

  “There are other aliens out there?”

  “Vast multitudes. Most feel, after a universal enhancement, humans will be ready to join. You alone will illuminate the suffering that accompanies uncertainty of purpose. It was imperative that we located you, and now that we have, we can thank the heavens we did so in time.”

  “In time?”

  “Yes, Randy. What you see before you is tantamount to a transmitter. It has a fleeting shelf life. I could lose my capabilities at any moment. That is why it is crucial we establish the connection now. This is, and always has been, your destiny.”

  “Of course,” Randy said. Feeling giddy, he juiced that emotion by finishing his beer. “Just tell me what to do.”

  As he rose, he envisioned himself with the power to rise up off the ground. He’d do so like in the movies, with his arms out to his side yet hanging limp. That would draw a crowd of people, and after he told them something mind-blowing, he’d use his powers to rocket off into the clouds.

  He’d be giving a speech where an assassin would fire a round at him from a mile away and he’d snatch the spinning bullet with his mind, shocking the world.

  He’d heal sick people from around the world while flying on his private jet, needing only a patient’s full name and address.

  “You must ingest me.”

  Wait a minute, what?

  Randy set the unopened beer on the table, examined the seed.

  “If I ingest you, I’ll die.”

  “Not you, Randy. That beer does more than soothe. It has conditioned your liver and thinned your blood. The people who die ignore our pleas. They are foolish. We beg them not to ingest. Plead for them to assist us in locating the chosen, but they… Yours is a difficult species.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Randy said. He opened the beer.

  “Don’t be like them, Randy. Do not ignore our pleas. You have been chosen.”

  Randy paced. His legs trembled with each step. He raked his fingers through his hair. If he swallowed an alien lifeform, would he die or become a super-genius, bringing people toward an awesome future. If the seed spoke the truth, there were only five others chosen in the world. Maybe he was the only one found, perhaps as it should be?

  “We hope to locate all six of you, but there is math to suggest we would find none,” the seed said. “We must go on the pretense that you are the sole participant. Our species will not be able to send another message pod for hundreds of millennia.”

  “I don’t know,” Randy said softly, almost to himself. He upturned the beer and drank until the can echoed, then opened the fridge and found another. He needed more time.

  “Randy.”

  He faced the seed, the alcohol splashing his brain.

  “There isn’t much time. I feel myself evaporating.”

  He cracked the new beer. Foam fizzled out its top. He sipped quickly to keep it from overflowing. “We got time,” he said quietly.

  “We don’t. Listen. At least pick me up. You’re not a sit-on-the-sidelines kind of man. After that, you make the choice. Either follow your mind, heart, and soul and save humanity, or flush me down the toilet and remain what you are, but you must choose. We are almost out of time.”

  He would not swallow the seed. It was that simple.

  But neither could he deny the truth of its words.

  Another swig.

  The beer kept him relaxed and thinking clearly as the two opposing logics warred.

  “Randy Johnson. You pick me up and make a choice.”

  Okay, fella. He snatched the vermin tight in his fist, drained another gulp on his way to the toilet.

  “Follow the trail of your life,” the seed said. “And ask yourself: are you really just a failure? Or is it that you were wise enough to listen to the subliminally suggested regimen that mated biological and intellectual potential to form a peak specimen designed for greatness?”

  “I can’t.” He flushed the toilet. He only needed to toss the seed into the swirling water.

  “So you really believe you’re just some pathetic drunk?”

  Randy went rigid. One thing he knew: he was not pathetic, or close to a drunk.

  He popped the golden cube into his mouth and chased it down with the last of his beer, draining it as the toilet ended its flush.

  There was no way someone with his skills and super-smarts could fail so b
ig league unless a higher power made it that way. A shave and a haircut were in order, but despite his lack of accomplishments, he’d always been a leader.

  His throat burned cold from the icy beer. He smacked his lips and checked the mirror. His hair was a mess, strands of his beard stuck out every which way, but that moment brought clarity. He’d made the right choice.

  Intending to phone his sister, he strolled into the kitchen. Before reaching the receiver, he decided to leave it there. This was the type of news you shared in person. Plus, someone should witness his upcoming change. He exited the back door, crossed his yard, and hopped the chain-link fence that separated his property from Leann’s.

  A sensation from that seed, and the alcohol, coursed through his body, confirming its promise.

  “Miss Dean? Leann?” he called through her screen door. Without awaiting a reply, he let himself in. “Leann, it’s me, Randy.”

  He found her on the couch in her blue sundress. Sitting up but long gone. Her eyes bulged and were coated a milky gray. A faint offensive odor told him she had soiled herself when she died. He plopped onto the couch next to her.

  Now who would witness his switch from man to superhero?

  He shot her a dirty look. She must have been too damn full of herself to accept that her neighbor had been the chosen one.

  Pretty pathetic.

  She clutched a half-sheet of paper in her clammy, mottled hand. He snatched the pizza delivery menu, turned it over, and found her note:

  I have gone to see my Harold. It was he

  who spoke to me as to how we could reunite.

  I love all of my children and grandchildren.

  Happily signing off,

  Leann Dean

  Tired all of a sudden, feeling more drunk than usual, he dropped his hands to his thighs.

  Why would she write that?

  He yawned and leaned his head back, resting it on the cloth. His eyes grew heavy. He needed a brief nap. Sometimes, beer made him sleepy.

  NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thanks for the read. If you enjoyed Teresa’s Gift, I would like to invite you to sample or read either of my other works. One good story will satisfy (which I hope this story accomplished); two quality reads from the same author and you have to consider us a fit; three makes a fan, a life-long mutually beneficially win/win.

  If you would recommend this to a friend, take the few minutes to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

  My lone novel, Virtual Heaven, with sales and kindle unlimited, is selling near 10 copies a day. With no marketing budget, I’m unsure how. I hope its ability to entertain is the why and ask you to give it a chance by reading the sample.

  Anything else can be found through my Amazon author page, which I hope you will follow and be alerted when I do giveaways or release new works.

  I recently released, Live Like a God. If Teresa’s Gift entertained, after you leave me a review, try the sample of Live Like a God. It started off with a poor review, the 2-star. That is legitimate and unfortunate. A few 5-stars followed, which was nice. The 1-star however, is a spiteful person from Reddit. I fear people won’t read without some honest reviews to offset. I will include the first chapter here, allow you to rate it’s quality.

  Regardless, thank you for this opportunity.

  Live Like

  a God

  I

  Restless, Josh Ridley moved to the empty reception area’s wooden door and found it locked. He then returned to the red leather chair and fanned through the pages of a fitness magazine. Reaching the end affirmed his decision to erase Skinner’s number from his phone. Without his influential sales pitch, Josh would have been at home listening to Karen recall her work week, safe in the simplicity of his routine.

  Before he could delete Skinner’s contact, the wooden door that presumably led to the interior of the building opened.

  The man in the doorway seemed about fifty. He was tall and microphone-stand thin with curly black hair that puffed out like a Chia pet. The sallow skin beneath his salted two-day stubble made Josh think of a lunatic suicide bomber.

  “I’m Dr. Ferrel.” The man’s tone was cordial, though he quickly averted his eyes and scanned the room as if to ensure they were alone.

  “Hello,” Josh said. He wasn’t ready to stand. Just being there proved he needed something in his life, but what?

  “I understand this might seem a bit overwhelming. The physician’s office décor and feel adds internal confusion,” Dr. Ferrel said. “Memory association is telling you to fill out forms, speak to a nurse, get your ID on file. Hesitation is common, but the psychological benefits of an office of absolute trust, like your doctor’s, outweigh the detriments. Please, follow me.”

  Learning the reasoning behind a decision always comforted Josh. Here, alone in a secluded area with a stranger and an uncertain future, the information helped him continue.

  Dr. Ferrel’s office lacked windows and seemed twice as spacious as necessary. A gray door on the back wall led, presumably, to the attached warehouse-sized structure Josh had noticed from outside. The room was a hybrid of design. The high-polished cherry wood desk with a winged master chair and a pair of deep brown subordinates across from it suggested a Dean’s office, while the grayish-blue walls, fluorescent lighting, and cabinets above a single counter with a small sink made it feel like an examination room.

  “Please, have a seat.” Dr. Ferrel motioned to the chairs.

  Instead, Josh inspected the framed photos on the wall. All were of insects, mostly pin-ups like those found in a science class, and diagrams of entomological classifications: arachnids, arthropods, larvae.

  An exquisitely-framed six-feet-by-four-feet professional shot of a king scorpion on a bed of sand, its stinger poised to strike, dominated a side wall. Another high-quality photo filled the real estate behind Dr. Ferrel’s desk.

  It was a vibrant, up-close shot of a praying mantis. Its razor-clawed forelegs clenched on either side of black mandibles in the pose that had earned it its pious moniker. The head resembled an inverted pyramid with rounded edges. Two green eyes spritzed with orange and dotted with black pupils granted the hunter an encompassing view.

  If enlarged to those proportions it would strike with a bewildering deftness. He’d be impaled, screaming and writhing as he neared the predaceous-looking mouth, all ending with a few bone-splintering crunches. Dormant instincts told Josh to forget the money he’d spent to be here and run.

  “Marvelous creature,” Dr. Ferrel said, startling Josh from the clutches of his imagination.

  Dr. Ferrel had taken up position at the side of the desk, allowing an unimpeded view. “Hierodula mantis. The word ‘mantis’ is derived from the Greek word for prophet. Something holy. Sometimes I dim the lights, sit in one of those chairs, and just marvel.”

  Josh felt as if someone had poured chalk down his throat. He glanced around for a beverage, wondering again: What am I doing?

  Living like a god.

  Skinner’s words echoed in his mind—the influential salesman. Deleting his contact would be top priority after negotiating a portion of his money back from this madman.

  Dr. Ferrel dropped into his seat and leaned forward. “Do you have the invite?”

  Josh eased the pouch from his pocket, and against his internal wishes to keep the ivory pass with the scrimshaw outline of a muscular man, he placed it in Dr. Ferrel’s outstretched hand.

  The doctor removed the slick ivory and admired it as he opened a side drawer and located a template that resembled a credit card swiper. Setting the ivory plate in its center, he waited while the machine verified authenticity with a double-beep and then transferred it to the drawer.

  “Do you know what that is?” Dr. Ferrel asked. “How fortunate you are to be in that chair?”

  “I don’t remember feeling that way.” Josh chuckled to hide the discomfort brought by searching his memory for ‘fortunate’ and coming up empty. “I guess many of us never find the time to count our b
lessings.”

  Dr. Ferrel studied him a moment before turning to open a refrigerated cabinet and retrieve a can of ginger ale. After cracking the top, he passed it to Josh and watched him drink. “Are you familiar with human anatomy?”

  Josh rested the can on the desk. “No more than the next man.”

  “It’s a fascinating field. The public might think most of our past medical curiosities have been answered definitively, but nearly every accepted theory has opposition data. I often wonder which of our modern beliefs, a century from now, will be proven foolhardy.” He leaned back, studied Josh for a moment, then continued. “The fact remains, I very much enjoy the workings of the body, particle physics, and as you can see—” he motioned to the pin-up “—entomology. My doctorate, however, is in physics with a focus on particle reconstruction.”

  Josh appreciated Dr. Ferrel sharing his thoughts, but he wanted to know how this man, and that ivory pass, intended to make him live like an actual god.

  “Have you been briefed about what to expect over the next thirty-nine days?”

  At that, Josh rose from his chair and glanced at the wooden door. “I can’t be gone that long!” He pictured the havoc Karen would wreak in that time; the ape-angry fit that would await a late return spiked an ice-shard through his heart. “I was told this lasts exactly seventy-two hours.”

  “It does, Josh. To them.” Dr. Ferrel’s gaze flitted to the door to indicate the outside world. “But for you, thirty-nine days will have passed. Allow that to be the first of many unimaginable truths.” Dr. Ferrel interlaced his long, bony fingers and eased closer. “There are gaps in the human body, gaps in all matter. The universe is full of wasted space. A true mystery.

  “Cellular globs float in our bodies. When pressed together they leave enormous fissures. Couple this with the gaps in cells, air in fluids, fat tissue, and we find immense room for… ergonomic reconfigurations.” A moment passed. “Are you following me?”

  Josh swigged the ginger ale thinking, not one bit, but he said, “I mean, I understand what you’re saying.” Draining the rest of the can, he returned it to the desk, wiped his hands on his thighs and thought, Why is it so hot in here?