Echoes in the Vacuum: Part V

The last part!!!

Catch up: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Part V

rocket ship

Image by Jurvetson

The old man had made his own discoveries before the boy did. He had, in fact, seen the bird people on Gallun-Z not two years ago. But he, too, had sought photos on the webs, and made the same discovery the boy had. But being older and wiser, he had realized what it meant.

For awhile, he watched them anyway, determined to learn what he could. But there was only so much you could learn observing from afar, and he soon lost heart, afraid each time he looked would be the night he’d see their destruction.

Sometimes he wondered why it happened, why he’d seen it. What was the point? But God gave no answer, and science was indifferent.

Then the boy came. And he insisted on watching the winged people in their last days.

“It’ll only upset you,” protested the old man.

“But you said the past was important. I want to learn everything they can teach me, before it’s too late.”

So the man only sighed and walked away.

What an eerie feeling, watching a civilization that didn’t know it was about to die. Nothing changed in their behavior. They worked. They played. They scuffled. They danced in the light. Just like every day of their lives. They didn’t know it would be their last.

More than once, he considered that the old man was right; that he couldn’t handle watching them die. Their world grew blurry when he thought about it, and it wasn’t a problem with the scope.

But there was no way around it. The old man was right, of course. He should have realized. They all died long before he was born. Before Spacial Disruption was even invented.

Then a curious thing happened.

Ships appeared.

Men came out.

Men walked upon the surface of Gallun-Z.

The boy had not seen them land; he had missed the moment of meeting, but there they were. It looked as if they were communicating with the bird creatures.

And over the next several days, the whole planet seemed alive with activity. The winged people flew doubly fast, flitting this way and that, carrying packs with them.

Now the boy was watching as long as he could each night, until Earth and Gallun turned their faces away from each other, and he had to wait another several hours before he could look again.

Then the day came that everyone was gone. The ships. The men. The winged people.

Every city was empty. Still.

The rickety joints tottered in.

“What this time?” the old man asked him.

“They’re gone.”

The old man sensed something in the boy’s expression, which he didn’t understand. “Hmph,” he grunted to conceal his interest. “Did you figure out where the ships were from?”

“They were from Earth.”

“Couldn’t be.”

“They looked like men. And the lettering on the ships…it was like our lettering.”

“That’s not possible. They didn’t have Spacial Disruption that long ago.”

“They weren’t marked S.D.”

“Of course not.”

“…They were marked T.D.”

The man watched him a moment. “And what do you suppose that means?”

The boy hesitated. Then he looked the rickety joints in the eye.

“That one day,” he said. “I am going to save the people of Gallun.”

Flash Fiction: Time Crunch

Meant to post this last night. Whoops.

I realized I haven’t posted any of my real work in a long time, so I thought I’d try out one of my own prompts. Glad to know what you think.

Time Crunch

It stood in the center of the garage. A puzzle of greenish copper gears and cranks with worn leather handles. A metal mess the size of a Volkswagen Microbus. And, from somewhere inside it, a faint ticking.

            “Where’d you get it?” I asked.

            “Stole it.”

            “How’d you move it?”

            He took a long drag on his Kool. He wasn’t going to answer.

            I stuck my hands in my armpits. My fingers were itching to pump some levers and tickle some toggle switches, but this was no time to play around. Both our futures—or rather, our pasts—were at stake. Imagined scenes sped through my head, a thousand should-have-beens. He’d have finished school, graduated with honors, gone on to college. Met some girl and married her. Maybe I’d even be an uncle by now. It was funny; most of the ideas I had about how much better our lives would be were about him, not me.

            “So how does it work?”

            He shrugged.

            “You couldn’t steal a manual, too?”

            “We’re not gonna use it.”

            I almost hurt my neck, I turned my head to look at him so fast. I knew he didn’t steal it for me. He stole it so he could get back six years of working at the plant to keep me alive and in school. So with so much on the line for him, and with the job half done, why was he backing out now? He had the hard look in his eyes that always scared me, but I was too mad to keep my mouth shut.

“Then what the heck are you gonna do with it?

            He threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and mutilated it with the toe of his boot.

            “No,” I shook my head when I realized what that meant. “We finally have the chance to bring them back. You can’t just—”

            “They were my parents, too.”

            “So why can’t we try? Look, you probably just pull that—”

            He smacked my arm back and I yelled so loud we could hear it shake the garage door.

            “I already stopped it,” he told me. “I already went back. I already saved them.” Something weird and distant in his voice made my gut turn.

            “So they should be here with us right now, right?”

            “You were riding your bike that day. Just up the street.”

            “So why aren’t they here with us right now?”

            “I changed it back.”

            “You what?”

            He closed his eyes. “I tried it a million different ways, and it always happens the same. Either the truck hits them,”

He paused, because his voice cracked on the word hits. The knot in my gut spread to my chest as he swallowed before finishing the sentence.

“Or it hits you.”

            All of a sudden my legs were like paper, crumpling under me until my butt hit the concrete floor. He turned around and started searching Dad’s old workbench. I felt sick when he hoisted the sledgehammer.

            “Why’d you pick me?”

            He stopped and looked at me. “The same reason I never let them ship you off to foster care. What, are you stupid?”

            He turned around again, raising the hammer over his shoulder like a baseball bat. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled through the door into the house. Before I’d even closed it behind me I heard the clanging crunch of the metal as the machine caved under the love of my brother.