Oblivion's Children

— EXCERPT 1—

Bil Sykes paced as he argued in his mind. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled. He walked over to his captive, picked him up by the armpits and dragged him to the almost opaque front window. He pulled up the sash and placed the hostage so that his head could be seen by the outsiders.

Micael breathed in the fresh air. He saw Dawna and tried to give a brave smile. A few moments ago he was sure he was going to die. He now thought it might end all right. When Sykes pulled back on his head he had his doubts again. Neither hope nor despair would lock in.

Dawna gasped at the sight of her husband’s anguished face and called out, “Micael!” She came out from behind the vehicle and took two quick steps toward the house.

Dire turned to the false threat, raising the barrel of his gun toward the woman. Adam stepped to his mother’s side and held her back.

“Take a good look at Dr. Wyman, the great ginner maker!” Bil yelled out from the darkness. Only his bony hand could be seen in the window, clutching Micael’s hair. “My demands must be met or he dies. I swear I’ll blow this place up.”

Dawna gazed at her husband, at his scowled eyes, his cheek crushed against the sill. She inched forward… Adam grabbed her by the waist to restrain her. She called out, “Are you okay, Micael?”

“Dawna,” he answered, struggling to turn his head to see her. The hand glutching his hair yanked him back inside out of sight.

“Micael!” She tore loose from her son’s grip and bolted past Konti across the uneven dirt yard toward the house.

Dire rotated and aimed his shotgun at her. She did not stop, so he pulled the trigger.

Dawna’s foot hit a rut and her ankle twisted. The shot pellets flew past her falling body.

The deputies’ guns responded to the blast and Dire’s chest exploded. The genue bounced against the door frame and staggered into the house.

Bil Sykes panicked and reached for the detonator. Micael threw up his bound feet to stop him. Bil stumbled and fell to the floor grasping the wires that led up to the table, yanking the detonator to the floor. “You can’t stop me.” Sprawled, he pulled the device toward him and struggled to his knees.

The disabled genue teetered from one foot to the other, turning and bumping around the room.

Micael thrashed his legs at Bil. His heart throbbed, his muscles strained. All of a sudden death was real and near. His mind kept saying, “I’m still alive, I’m still alive!” If only he could continue to hear, see, move, feel, think, he would stay alive.

He heard Bil sneer, “Someone must pay!” He saw the man put his hands on the handle of the detonator. He kicked at him again. He felt exhilaration. I’m still alive, he thought.

He heard Bil grunt in pain. He saw him bounce against the counter. He was afraid. I’m still alive, he thought.

He heard the I-port tumble off the counter. He saw the detonator beneath it. He felt panic.

He heard the I-port bang on the detonator. He saw the handle move down…

It was as if someone had turned the dial of an old gas stove. Pillars of green and blue flame shot up from the ground on all sides of the house. Like a dancing picket fence, the columns of fire encircled the old structure, then quickly merged into a yellow wall that turned orange, then red. The high-pitched scream of Dawna lying in the dirt pierced the low-pitched roar of the conflagration. The other onlookers stood frozen in horror as the hot wind blew past them.

Konti began an analysis of the situation and concluded that Micael must be retrieved from the burning house. His own safety did not enter his thoughts. The goal was set and the means were obvious. He dashed across the yard, past Dawna, up the old porch steps, then disappeared into the inferno.

Adam rushed to his mother’s side and knelt beside her. The searing heat clawed at their faces as they stared in disbelief. Adam picked her up and carried her away.

When they reached the sheriff, he put her down and gazed back at the man-made hell.

Flames lapped at the sky from holes in the roof. Twisting balls of black smoke burst from the windows. Lumber crackled and screamed, mocking the growing crowd. In the distance wailing sirens grew louder.

Then through the veils of yellow flame, a living image wavered like a mirage. The shape of a genue holding a human across its arms flickered in the fire as it stepped in slow motion through the doorway. Sheets of flame lashed at the figure…

— EXCERPT 2—

Hope stood in the center of the expansive study, her hands clasped in front of her blue sheen pants, her head turning to examine the room—mostly the ceiling. She felt alone in the room. Then she looked at the genue reading in a chair. She could have taken him to be a mannequin, except when he turned a page and moved his eyes. She felt a little odd with it, him, sitting there. She was used to genues as chauffeurs and cooks but not companions. In a way she still thought of them as appliances, a technology she was not comfortable with but one she accepted. Yet, the object here looked too much like a being to ignore so her social instincts had her searching for something to say. She glanced out the tall window where she spied another genue doing what appeared to be gardening, and asked, ”Who’s that?“ She turned to Murl. “I mean, which genue is that?”

Murl glanced out the window for just a second then went back to his book uttering a terse, “The servant genue, Konti.”

Hope had no follow-up. She just stood there feeling like an actor who had just forgotten her lines. So much for that conversation.

Her gaze moved to a painting hanging to the right of a tall window, and though she was staring at it, her mind did not see it. She peeked at Murl from the corner of one eye, then ambled to an antique chair and sat with grace. She gave him a hard look. The genue paid no attention. She looked at her hands, then at the window, then at Murl. She crossed her legs and ran her hand down her calf until her fingers came upon a raised blemish. She looked down to see the faint scar left from an old burn. She had no memory of it. But her mama had told her many times how it got there.

“You burn any more babies?” she asked the reading genue.

Murl rotated his head and saw the woman pointing to her leg. He got up from his chair and walked over to her. He leaned to examine the healed burn. She quickly pulled back into the chair. He move away. “It was a long time ago. I remembered the incident when you first walked in. As I recall, I said I was sorry to your mother at the time.”

Hope perceived sincerity in his calm voice. “Mama never told me that.” She forced herself to look into his eyes where she saw a moving light. What mysteries lie beyond vision’s gate? Thoughts must be passing. But of course they were—she knew genues could think. Then what was the fascination? Maybe there was really a life in there. When she realized the glint was her own image warped around the synthetic orbs, the spell was broken. An uneasiness caused her to glance away. She stood up and walked to the window. Now that she was at a safe distance, she asked, “Do you remember me as a baby?”

Murl looked pensive, or so it seemed. He turned his head to follow her movements. “I was never a baby.”

Hope’s laughter burst through her apprehensions. “You must get your sense of humor from Adam.”