John Avery - Three Days To Die

Aaron shuddered… then he stepped back from the edge and walked on under the massive iron gate and into the castle gatehouse, where hidden pulleys and counterweights stood ready to help raise the drawbridge in the likely event of an attack.

– Beyond the gatehouse Aaron entered the inner ward of the castle, which in this case was a vast inland ocean. The air was warm and soft. A sparkling ground-coral beach stretched a hundred yards in front of him and as far as he could see to his right and left. Puffy, cartoon clouds arched across the sky — like a great cotton canopy — forming the distant ceiling of the cavern.

The little black boy had followed him. Aaron turned and waved to him; the boy smiled and waved back.

Aaron walked slowly out to where the ocean waves were breaking and running up on the sand. The cool sea-water washed over his ankles and splashed up his legs.

He continued on, deeper and deeper into the water. It was fresh, invigorating and exceptionally clear. Soon his head was completely under — yet he had no trouble breathing. Rainbow schools of shimmering fish flew over the coral sculptures surrounding him.

A large, colorful grouper swam up to Aaron, its pectoral fins oscillating like a pair of silvery, Japanese hand fans.

Aaron looked at the fish curiously and asked, "Am I in Heaven?"

"Only if you wish to be," the grouper replied, its big, fish lips puckering as it spoke. Then it turned and slowly swam away.

Aaron smiled and continued on his wondrous journey.

– He came upon a pirate ship with its Jolly Roger flying in the swift current flowing by the masthead. A badly decomposed, wooden CONDEMNED sign was nailed to the side of the ship above a gaping hole in the hull, where the ship, no doubt, was rammed during a desperate sea battle. Aaron stepped through into the darkness of the doomed ship's bowels.

– Great stacks of supply barrels and coiled rope lined the inside of the vessel's hold, along with several swords, flintlock pistols, and automatic rifles. A store of green duffel bags filled a corner, stacks of $100 bills spilling from a split in one of them. A black plastic trash bag lay open, revealing its cache of treasure; Aaron reached in and found a leather wallet, but as he lifted it out it crumbled to dust.

Sprawled in every bearing, the skeletal remains of the unfortunate ship's crew. Inky eye-sockets followed Aaron as he moved through the sunken cemetery, their alabaster skulls grinning as if the scavengers feeding on their trailing flesh tickled.

Aaron noticed a plastic name tag stuck between the ribs of one of the corpses. It read BANK MANAGER.

Hanging nearby (with no apparent means of support), Aaron found a rope macrame hammock, and suddenly he grew very tired. He climbed into it and fell deeply asleep.

Ashley lay across the bed in Room 107, staring at the TV. The local station's weather man looked if he had been through the dry cleaners along with his suit. His forecast was for rain and high winds throughout the night.

NEWS FLASH:

A hostage was reported killed today during an armed robbery at the downtown branch of Community Plaza Bank. The murder took place at approximately 9:30 this morning. Witnesses said the gunmen wore the same brightly painted ski masks and carried assault rifles similar to the ones used in a series of robberies that took place in the city yesterday. Police have initiated a citywide manhunt.

Ashley took no notice of the report. She checked her watch. 6 p.m. She stood and turned off the TV, slipped the gun into her purse, grabbed her car keys, and stepped outside.

– She paused on the sidewalk for a moment, scanning the parking lot as leaves and bits of trash bounced by on a wind gearing up for a heavy storm. Darkness was approaching and a light rain had begun to fall — and it was very cold. Ashley buttoned her light jacket, pulled up her collar, and turned to lock the door.

Suddenly a voice said, "Going somewhere?"

Ashley whirled around, expecting Death himself, but it was only the pint-sized proprietor of the Sands Motel: Doolin Mars, in his print pajamas.

" Doolin! " she cried, staggering back a step. "Damn you! Don't do that!"

She moved toward her Nova, favoring her ankle as she leaned into the wind, each step hurting. She could feel the loathsome creep following her.

"Can't talk now, Doolin," she said over her shoulder. "I'm in a hurry…"

Doolin called after her into the wind. "I was hoping you'd have dinner with me tonight, Arlene."

My God, she thought, this guy's unbelievable. "Can't tonight… I really have to go."

With a surprising burst of speed, Doolin ran around her and blocked her path. "I worked real hard preparing a special dinner for you," he said, breathless from the effort. "I expect you to show me the courtesy of — "

"Screw you, Doolin, you freaking weirdo. You're insane! Get out of my way."

Doolin stood firm, looking at Ashley with a puzzled expression on his face, as if surprised by her attitude.

Ashley shoved him aside. "I said move, you little fly!"

Doolin grabbed her arm with a grip that would leave a bruise, but Ashley twisted free. She fell back a step and pulled her gun, gripping it with both hands, aiming at Doolin's crotch.

"Keep your filthy paws off me, you slimy little bastard!" she screamed. " Or I swear — I'll blow your fucking balls off! "

Doolin stumbled backward, hands in the air. "Okay, okay," he said, "I get it. It's cool. I get it."

Ashley sighted on him as he moved away from her. "And stay away, you maggot! Leave me the fuck alone!"

She jumped in her Chevy, tossed the gun on the passenger seat, and started the engine. Then she slammed it in gear and floored it out of the parking lot — swearing never to return.

Aaron jolted awake, terrified: One of the pirate skeletons had leaned over him and was shaking him by the shoulder with an osseous hand.

" Aaron…" it hissed through gnashing teeth. " Aaron, wake up…"

A cold, deep-ocean current moved through the ship like a limpid sea monster, rocking Aaron's hammock and sending a shiver through him. He cried out, delirious, clawing desperately at the hand on his shoulder.

"Aaron," the voice repeated, but sounding different. "Wake up. It's Willy. It's time to go."

Aaron gave a deep shuddering sigh and opened his eyes. Willy's familiar face emerged.

"Oh, man…" Aaron said, looking around to get his bearings. "You wouldn't believe the weird dream I had." More like the fantasies of a lunatic, he thought.

Willy was torn between relief and anger; it hadn't been easy for him either. "It was weird, all right," he said. "I thought you were OD-ing or something. You were flying all over the couch, waffling on and on, and I couldn't understand a bloody thing you were saying. You really put the willies up me, mate."

He walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face, then returned with some damp paper towels and used them to cool Aaron's forehead.

"We need to go," he said. "The morphine should help for a few hours. Can you walk?"

Aaron pulled back the blanket and slowly sat up. "There's one way to find out," he said confidently. Then he carefully swung his feet out onto the floor.

He stood, pausing with his hand on the arm of the sofa, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. The table with the medical supplies was a few steps away, and he marked it as a goal. Then, with considerable effort, he shuffled to it and leaned on it for support as another wave of dizziness came and went.

His tongue was puffy and sticking to the roof of his mouth. "Can you get me some water?" he asked. "My mouth tastes like a handful of dried cat turds."