Shuffle: Part One

Wind howled, ushered ravenous inferno across the private jet. A lightning bolt-shaped fissure cracked across the floor. Another window shattered. The ten passengers screamed. Masks dropped from the ceiling.

Richard’s fists squeezed his armrests. He fought to breathe. His eyes darted across the chaos of flailing limbs, towards his daughter, two rows closer to the jet’s nose--which torpedoed towards the Colorado Mountains.

Blackness claimed him. He tumbled towards oblivion . . . and missed.

He awoke with a start. Pain corkscrewed across his left arm, broken.

Kyoko. His six-year-old daughter. Panic shoved aside Richard’s agony. He bullied himself from his half shattered seat and stood on shaky legs upon the smoky wreckage that surrounded him. He spotted twisted limbs and most of a human head.

He cupped his right hand around his mouth and scream. “Kyoko.”

A chunk of wreckage slid sideways while a woman pushed her path out from under it. A deep cut bled across her forehead. She blinked at him, swayed on her feet. “Help me?” she whispered with a confused expression.

Richard ignored her. He stumbled across the debris scattered across the mountain. His tattered, Armani suit hung from him. His tie fluttered behind him, caught in the wind. He stumbled, crashed, banged his chin against a sheet of metal.

Footsteps. Richard glanced up, saw a fuzzy figure pace across the rocky stage just outside of the starburst of wreckage. The stranger came into focus. Richard didn’t recognize him. He hadn’t known the names of half the people on the plane.

Richard had wanted to take his daughter aboard his private jet to see the mountains. He agreed to ferry a few of his brother’s friends along the way. These friends wanted to attend a concert in Denver (some disgusting rap “artist”).

Richard struggled to his hands and knees. He heard the woman again (white noise) and noticed a chunk of his pilot.

Where had his daughter gone? If she hadn’t survived . . . his terror sought some name, some face upon which he could pin Kyoko’s death.

“Daddy!”

Terror poured from his heart, which refilled with gratitude and further fear.

He leapt to his feet, stumbled past the stranger who paced and mumbled. Richard called Kyoko’s name, heard her voice, zeroed on it, begged God.

Everything. Every cent. It’s Yours. Don’t take my daughter. She looks just like her mother, and I can’t watch her die twice.

He found her alive, intact, pinned beneath a chunk of metal. He scanned the miracle. His suspicion simmered. Could fate so kindly let her pass without a scratch?

He tried to roll the wreckage off of Kyoko. He grunted with the fruitless effort. He could easily move it if both of his arms worked.

The woman with the bloody face materialized beside him. Together, they pulled the metal sheet off Kyoko. Richard checked her over, discovered her, indeed, unharmed, and hugged her against his chest.

His attention drifted towards the woman. Unattractive. She maybe rated a six . . . if she lost a few pounds.

Richard took his daughter by the hand, led her away from the crash site.

“Daddy, what happened to those people? Their arms and legs—”

“Don’t look at that, sweetie. Close your eyes.” His attention turned towards the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Cassandra.”

Once he, Kyoko, and Cassandra stood outside the wreckage, Richard released his daughter’s hand and scooped his cellphone from his pocket. No signal.

He asked Cassandra to check her phone.

“It’s in my purse.” She gestured towards the wreck. “I’m not going back in there to search for it.”

Richard nodded at the man who paced and mumbled. “See if he has a phone.”

Cassandra glared at Richard. “Give him a minute. He’s in shock.”

Richard set Kyoko’s hand in Cassandra’s own. “Watch her.” He marched towards the other man, slapped him across the face. “Shut up.” He stared the stranger in the eyes. “Check your cellphone.”

He blinked. “I . . . don’t have one.”

It took Richard a moment to process that. “What century are you trapped in?”

“I can’t afford one,” the stranger said. His expression matched that of a man who experienced the surreal.

“What’s your name?” Richard asked.

The man stared at the wrecked jet. “They call me Hood.”

Of course, they do, Richard thought. Good grief.

He led Hood towards Kyoko and Cassandra. “How is it,” he asked Hood, “you can’t afford a cellphone, but you’re hitching a ride on my private jet?”

Hood’s expression twisted into something unrecognizable. “All those people who just died in that crash? They were friends of your brother’s and mine.”

Richard took Kyoko’s hand. “What I mean is, how does someone who can’t afford a cellphone make my brother’s acquaintance?”

“Man!” Hood’s voice echoed across the mountains. “What does it matter?”

“My pilot’s good at his job,” Richard said, “but he wasn’t good today. What’s different about today?” He nodded at Hood. “You and your people. You’re the ones out of place.”

Hood’s mouth hung. “You . . . you’re blaming the crash on me?”

Richard straightened his back. “I’m just asking questions.”

Hood’s fists clenched. “I met your brother in school. That okay with you?”

“You attended Harvard?”

“Yeah. I attended Harvard. Full scholarship. Worked my ass off to receive it.”

Richard snorted. “You sure you didn’t get that scholarship because of your skin tone?”

Hood’s eyes blazed. “Buddy, don’t make me kick your ass in from of your little girl.”

“Rest one finger on me,” Richard said, “and I’ll sue you.” He released his daughter’s hand, jabbed a finger into Hood’s chest. “Understood?”

Cassandra stepped between Richard and Hood. “Enough. Maybe you guys haven’t noticed, but we have a crisis on our hands.”

Richard glanced around them. The wreck sat atop a cliff that overlooked a disastrous drop. Only the wide-mouthed cave behind them offered a trail to anywhere . . . but where?

Cassandra spoke as if she read Richard’s mind. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

“A search party will arrive,” Hood said. “We should stay with the wreck.”

Richard, who had opened his mouth to express that exact opinion, said instead, “Nonsense. This mountain range expands forever. A great deal of it has never seen a human being. A search party will never find us.”

Hood frowned. “What do you suggest, then?”

“We have to find a signal for my cellphone,” Richard said, “call for help before my battery runs dry.”

“Where are we going to find a signal?” Hood asked.

Richard waved at the cave. “By looking.”

“In a cave? Do you understand how cellphone signals work?”

Cassandra wiped the blood from her face. “That cave might lead us back to civilization.”

Richard agreed. “We can’t just stand here, twiddle our thumbs, and wait for the government to fix our problems.” He flashed a pointed look at Hood.

Hood’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Some of us paid for our college education,” Richard said. “We didn’t expect someone else to buy it for us.”

Hood turned bright red. “You mean some of us had to work for a scholarship. We didn’t expect our rich parents to buy it for us.”

“If your parents had worked harder, they could’ve afforded your education.”

“My parents worked sixty hours a week each!”

“Guys!” Cassandra said. “Enough. We have to work together.”

Richard took Kyoko’s hand. “We’ll navigate the cave. I’ll lead.”

Cassandra and Hood exchanged a silent debate before they followed Richard into the cave.

They marched down the cave’s throat, which quickly grew darker and narrower. Kyoko twice stumbled and nearly fell. The jagged side of the tunnel-like passage bumped Richard’s broken arm. He hissed with white-hot pain.

“Richard?” Cassandra asked. “Could you use your phone to light our path?”

Richard shook his head in the dark. He didn’t want to drain his battery.

“We can’t waste its battery,” said Hood.

“The battery’s fine.” Richard let go of Kyoko, reached into his pocket, and withdrew his cellphone. Its sickly light shone across the cave walls.

“What are we going to do for food and water?” Cassandra asked.

Richard rolled his eyes. “Worry about it. That’ll make a steakhouse appear.” He glanced at Cassandra’s out-of-shape shadow. Not that you need another meal.

“Daddy. Look! Cartoons.” Kyoko pointed at the cave walls.

Crude, green pictures decorated the otherwise tan rocks. Richard stopped short and squinted at the pictures. They resembled caveman paintings. Sort of. The stick figures didn’t appear human. Too many limbs.

They continued to trek across the cave. The cellphone dimmed while the battery drained. Richard shut it off, stuffed it into his pocket, and reached for his daughter’s hand.

The group continued in silence.

“Daddy. I see light up ahead.”

Richard strained his eyes. He saw it, too. A cone of sunlight poured from a hole in the cave’s ceiling about a hundred feet farther down the cave’s path.

“Thank God,” Hood whispered.

The group reached the light—which shone upon a dead end.

Hood groaned. Cassandra looked as if she might cry.

Wimps, Richard decided. He patted Kyoko’s head. “We’re okay, sweetie. We’ll rest a bit, catch our breaths, and backtrack to the crash site.”

Cassandra’s gasp silenced everyone. She pointed at the ground near Hood and mouthed the word, Snake.

Richard spotted the creature’s long, pale-white body. It slithered towards Hood, who backed away from it.

“That’s not a snake.” The whispered words escaped Richard the second he thought them.

“What the hell is it?” Hood asked.

The creature that squirmed across the ground didn’t appear to have a head. It resembled the translucent ghost of a giant earthworm. It slithered under the cone of light and shrieked.

Smoke puffed from its twitching flesh. It spastically retreated into the shadows.

More wormlike creatures arrived. Their slick bodies squirmed over each other just outside the light. Richard, Kyoko, Cassandra, and Hood backed away, until their backs hit the dead end.

Richard pulled out his cellphone, directed its light at the creatures, which screeched and snaked from view. The grotesque sounds of their slithering faded into the distance.

Richard and the others sat.

“Daddy . . . what were those things?”

“Just worms, sweetie,” Richard whispered, though he didn’t believe it.

. . . Within minutes, they fell asleep.

Richard dreamed of four steaks adrift in a wide pool of marinade.

Night had arrived by the time he awoke. Moonlight spilled through the ceiling’s hole.

He stood, rubbed his face—before he realized he used his left arm. My broken arm’s healed? He gently touched it. No pain.

He didn’t detect the sleeve of his suit. He felt instead the thin material of a long-sleeve shirt. His hand ran across it, felt the soft surprise of breasts.

What the hell?

Cassandra’s voice exploded. “What’s wrong with me?”

Richard’s cellphone (not in Richard’s hand) emitted a light beep before it flashed light across the cave. The light washed across Kyoko, who sat with an expression of dread.

She looked at Richard and asked in Cassandra’s voice, “Hood, what happened to me?”

“Daddy?” Kyoko’s voice came from Richard’s right. His eyes darted between Kyoko’s body and the direction in which her voice arrived.

Then, he looked at the man (his exact double) who held his cellphone. “What the hell?” Richard’s double asked in Hood’s voice. “My left arm hurts like hell.”

Richard’s hands crawled across his face. I’m in Cassandra’s body.

Hood’s body walked from the shadows into the moonlight. The body walked as if unused to its height. It looked at Richard’s double and asked in Kyoko’s voice, “Daddy, what happened to me?”

“I’m over here,” Richard said. “I’m . . . inside Cassandra.”

“Kyoko” stood at the sound of her name.

“Cassandra’s in your body,” Richard whispered to his daughter. This must be a nightmare.

Richard’s body stared at Hood’s. It said in Hood’s voice, “Is that little girl in my body?”

Bubbles of Cassandra’s memories rose inside Richard. He squeezed shut his eyes, struggled to digest the avalanche of information. He dropped to his knees, cupped his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Kyoko/Hood asked.

Whatever’s happening to me, Richard realized, isn’t happening to the rest of them. I’m the only one gaining anyone else’s memories.

The bubbles of recollections fizzled to silence, left Richard on his (Cassandra’s) knees. He gasped, gazed past the others towards something that slithered from the shadows. Something that carried a tiny, orange light.

The other’s followed his gaze and froze. The orange light glowed from the tip of a monstrous, hairy tentacle. The limb gurgled. The closer it drew, the brighter its light became.

Richard and the others backed up against the dead end. The tentacle slithered beneath the pale moonlight that poured from the broken ceiling. Mandibles opened and snapped across the tentacles slimy surface.

To be continued . . .

(Thanks for reading. I’ll publish Part Two in a matter of days. Feel free to enjoy the other short stories on this site, as well as my movie reviews and my novels, such as “Daughters of Darkwana,” on Kindle)