Friday, April 29, 2016

La Fuga (flash fiction)

   Three days ago Juan had escaped. Now he was lost in the desert of what would become Arizona in another 300 years. The natives had attacked and killed everyone in the expedition except for the lone escapee. They’d tied him down next to an anthill and had left him to rot. Luckily for him one of the stakes came loose which let him get away. At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about having to work for one of the missions again.
   I need to find some water soon. He brushed the sweat from his forehead. His shirt, soaked with sweat, clung to his back. Soaked pants retarded the movement of his legs.
   Stumbling, he fell into a cactus. The sharp needles pierced the skin of his hand, and arm. “Oh shit!” Wincing, he pulled himself free. Then he removed the sharp spines that had lodged themselves in his skin.
   Think man! His eyes swept the vicinity seeking out some kind of shelter. Not spotting any he sighed and decided to push on hoping he’d find something soon. He also hoped he wouldn’t get found by those natives again. They were bad news. So were the cactus plants which he tried to carefully avoid.
With the heat of the day what appeared to be water showed in the distance. He knew that was just a mirage though he’d learned from the expedition leader. Now he wished he’d paid more attention when the leader had spoken about navigating an area.
   He slogged along as the hot sun beat down on him. Though only a couple of hours it seemed like an eternity wandering through a strange land that was devoid of life. No birds flew overhead. Even the lizards, and snakes, seemed to be in hiding from the blistering sun.
   His head began to hurt from a headache. Spots began to form in his vision. Trying to blink he tried clearing his sight. His mouth hanging open began to dry out and his tongue stuck to his teeth.
   Just as his vision began to fade he smacked into a tree face first. He shook his head, and blinked. The shade was a welcome respite. Then, he spotted the little creek. He made his way to the bank and fell to his knees. Dipping his hands in the cool water he splashed some water on his face which instantly refreshed. Next he leaned over and took a sip. He wanted just a little of the sweet nectar to slake his thirst.
   Now, he would rest in this place for a short time before he pushed on. Where he was going he did not know.

The end

Monday, April 25, 2016


1943, North Africa

  The M3 tank was noisy. Sometimes, after it was shut down John’s ears would continue to hum which made it difficult to hear anyone. The tank was also known as a death trap. One properly dropped bomb from a Messerschmitt would usually kill the tank, and all of the occupants. It was the stuff of nightmares.

  To help pass the time he would reminisce about his past life as he watched the scenery pass by. Walking through his memories was a better option than focusing on the possibility of getting up in this tin can.

  Jenny Walker, and he, would go frog gigging down at the swamp when they were teenagers. He smiled at the pleasant memories flooding his mind. How I wish I could go back there now.

  He allowed his thoughts to continue to drift until they came to rest on the time he kissed her for the first time. They were both 16. They’d been together ever since with the exception of this damned war. He’d even married her just after he was drafted in 1942.

  A jolt felt through his feet brought him back to the present. A ball of flame greeted his view through the slit. His mouth dropped open in shock. Then, the tank stopped. What the fuck?

  Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. John squatted down and spotted the now dead driver who was slumped over in the seat. I have to get him out of there.

  Reaching up he popped open the hatch and peeked out over the edge. His eyes swept the horizon looking for those Kraut planes. All he needed was a few bullets plugged into his ass. Satisfied, he pulled himself up to the top of the turret and made his way to the driver who he tried to slide off the seat.

  After several tries he succeeded and he climbed down into the drivers seat. He put the tank into gear and pushed on the peddle. There was no response from the tank. Think John!

  He shifted into neutral and tried starting the tank. No resonse from the seven cylinder engine. He tried a second time, and a third. It wouldn’t start. He was now a sitting duck. Jenny’s sweet smiling face filled his mind for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do.

  Looking to his right he spotted another M3. He began waving his arms and shouted, “hey!” They continued rolling on westward. Maybe I can catch them if I’m quick enough.

  He pulled himself back out and began to run after the moving tank. It was moving too fast and the distance was increasing as he pushed himself. Realizing he was wasting his time he stopped and sat down. His chest heaved from his exertions while attempting to catch his breath.

  Closing his eyes he began to daydream about Jenny again.

The end