The Alternative by Richard Dante - HTML preview

TWENTY

Suddenly Kirk had the uneasy feeling something or someone following him. He wasn’t just afraid for himself, but for the undreds left in the theater and the millions across the world who myght be destroyed if he was recaptured. He had to reach the military. The President. Someone!

As he ran on, he felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He was certain that on this lonely street, something was stalking him. The night was moonless and the street unlit except for the dim glow from the occupied quarter of the city beyond.

Then he turned and saw it. In the darkness behind of him was a moving shadow. A large shadow of some sort of vehicle. It was about two blocks back and moving toward him.

Kirk stopped to listen. The was an almost imperceptible hum from that direction. He moved quickly to the sidwalk to his left and into a store front entrance. In the dark he bumped into something soft and yielding. A voice growled sleepily at him.

 “Hey, watch it buddy.”

It was a transient asleep on the concrete, and he sound startled Kirk so he moved back into the street. He paused for a moment. Now he could hear new sounds--sounds from back in the direction of the theater. The noise of boots on pavement.

He looked around to see he was in the middle of a long block of deserted stores. There was no cross street to duck down and escape. Kirk moved back intot he shadows of a clothing store next to him. He could see little in the gloom and when his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he noticed though the show-case windows were broken, there were heavy bars on them and the door was bolted. He was trapped. He huddled behind some boxes, back in the darkness, hoping they wouldn’t see him.

Kirk held his breath so he could hear better. The sound of the boots was getting louder and the humming sound slowly increased in volume. For what seemed forever, the marching feet echoed through the street and reverberated in and out of the empty buildings. Louder and louder the humming grew until it seemed to be nearly on top of him.

“Platoon, halt!” came a command from the street. Kirk jumped, startled by the nearby sound. A Spotlight beam scanned past his hiding place, and he tried to push himself farther back into the shadows.

 “Left face!” there was a shuffling sound of boots as the men obeyed the order.

“Parade Rest,” there was the sound of metal as rifle or weapon butts hit the pavement.

 The humming sound increased. It was coming from a large black, electric powered van. He could just make out a silver streak down the side. It stopped just short of where the soldiers were standing. It’s beacon scanned the buildings.

 For a moment there was silence, then a new sound. A thin whining noise came from the van. Kirk looked toward it from behind the boxes. A moment later a strange periscope apparatus started to rise from the top of the vehicle. As it rose higher and higher, he could make out a large round object on the end of it.

 Without warning, a blinding searing light cut the dark. It was as if someone had turned on the sun at midnight. the entire area was lit as bright as day. It took the physicist a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the glare.

 Through a crack between the boxes, Kirk could now see them. Standing in front the the large van was a group of Primagnon guards. He estimated about thirty in number. They were standing very correctly at parade rest. The entire platoon was at dress-right-dress and their unique laser rifles were pressed forward at a sharp angle. There was a very cold, business-like quality about them.

 Kirk was horrified by the implication of the soldiers and van. He had nowhere to go. There was no escape.

 “Doctor Kirkland Miller!” an amplified voice filled the street and echoed down the alleys and side streets streets dissecting them.

 Kirk froze behind the boxes. He held his breath in the hope somehow he might be overlooked.

 “Dr. Miller, we know where you are! There is no way out, so you may as well show yourself!” the voice boomed forth.

 Kirk still didn’t make a move.

 “Sergeant, if you will!” said the voice.

 The sergeant turned, lifted his weapon and aimed it directly toward the boxes behind which Kirk was hiding. There was a buzzing noise, similar to what a wasp would make and Kirk smelled smoke. Suddenly he realized the boxes were on fire. He held for a few moments longer until the heat and smoke became unbearable; then stood up and stepped out in full view.

 “Very sensible, Doctor,” the loudspeaker blared. “You were only prolonging the inevitable.”

 Another voice broke through the stillness -- the familiar voice of Parker. The power of his voice was awesome as it spilled from the speaker and echoed along the street.

 “Kirk, I regret you’ve chosen not to join us. You could have been one of our great leaders. Your refusal to cooperate leaves us no choice but to Pass-You-On. I know you won’t believe this, but I mourn your Passing. Your stubborn grasp of a false ideal is your greatest folly . I’m afraid this is goodbyt , Kirk.”

 With the Primagnon Leader’s farewell the speaker grew silent. The soldiers moved restlessly and looked toward their Sergeant.

 “Attention!” he ordered. The platoon snapped sharply to attention.

 “First squad, One step forward--march!”

 As a man, the file of men closest to Kirk stepped forward and resumed their stance of attention.;

 “Ready -- Aim...”

 Kirk couldnit believe this. He was about to die. But for what reason? It all seemed unreal--all far away. Like a nightmare.

 “FIRE!”

 A chorus pf buzzing wasps filled the air and Kirk felt a slight tingling sensation in the area of his heart. Suddenly he grew very sleepy. He yawned and looked down at the brightly lit sidewark. It looked soft and inviting, so he knelt down and then stretched out for a moment before curling up and going to sleep.

 “Front line--Attention!” bellowed the sergeant. “About face -- to the third file-March!”

 The first squad moved crisply around behind the other two lines.

 “Second squad, one pace --foward --March!” commanded the platoon sergeant.

 The second squad repeated the movements of the first, yet they were carrying heavier weapons.

 “Ready. Aim -- Fire!”

 There was a blinding searing flash as beams shot out to strike the inert body on the sidewalk. The body was enveloped in a glow of purple. With a small puff of smoke it vanished.

 The whining sound of the heavy weapons was replaced by a hight pitched scream that seemed to come from everywere. The scream went on and on. The misty smoke rising from the spot where Kirk’s body had lain, diffused the scene. At length the blinding light was extinguised and all was blackness again.. The scream continuted untill it turned to choking sobs.

 In the dark, shadows began to take form. Seated figures were visible when soft lights began to illuminate the darkened room.

 Not a room -- but a theater--the auditorium of the Orpheum. The figures barely moved, barely breathed. They appeared to be in a state of shock. Unable to react or revive theselves from the awesome experience they had just witnessed.

 In the center of the theater sat a handsome couple. The lady was sobbing against the shoulder of the youthful man at her side. Beside the couple sat a little whitehaired black lady. She still stared wide-eyed at the screen.

 Finally the young man looked away from the darkened walls of the auditorium as the cut ains were drawn to cover them. He appeared dazed from his trial and looked down at his hands where they gripped the ams of the chair. The arm rests had once been warm and inviting. Now they were icy cold. He flinched, removed his clenched fist from the arms and laid them in his lap. Finally he became aware of the sobbing at this shoulder.

 “Sharon, Sharon,” he said comfortingly. He put his arms around her and held her tight as she sobbed against him.

 Finally he took handkerchief from his jacket pocket. He gently tilted her head back to dry her eyes. They were closed and the convulsive sobbing ceased. She opened her eyes, but there were no tears. In the dim light the dilated pupils had an odd glow.

 “Kirk, Kirk,” she whispered. “You’re here. You’re still alive!”

 She looked away and averted her eyes. She’d been through a lot and he was sure this strange evening had affected them all in some mysterious way. He shrugged if off and held her so she rested once again against his shoulder.

 Seated next to Sharon, Kirk could see Mrs. Jackson drying her eyes. She kept looking around and was disturbed by something.

 Kirk also looked around the theater. Strange. Where was everyone? The auditorium seemed about half full. Had the presentation been too much for some and they’d left at intermission? There seemed to be some activity to his right where men in white uniforms were fussing over one of the guests.

 Suddenly, Kirk looked across at the the little black lady -- the seat next to her was empty.

 “Mrs. Jackson, where’s Henry?” asked the physicist, with some concern.

 The old lady turned vague eyes toward him.

 “I -- I don’t know. Oh, he’s probably gone off to find Senator Brakcen. That’s why we’re here...to see Senator Bracken.” She spoke haltingly -- almost incoherently. “Henry said...I should take a cab and he’d be home later.”

 Sharon stirred in the seat beside h im. ,

 “Come on Darling, I’d better take you home.”

 She appeard to be back to normal, but still didn’t look at him.

 “Mrs. Jackson, you’d better share a cab with us,” then Kirk added to Sharon. “I’ll tell the Shipleys we’ll phone them tomorow.”

 She nodded and the three of them struggled up from their seats and started up the aisle. Kirk’s legs felt like rubber under him. Perhaps sitting too long, he reasoned. He thought back over the evening. THE Movie had certainly lived up to its promise. It still seemed so real. His own horrendous experiences.The realism of the special effects. The extraordiny three dimensional production and their involvement in it. Thought it seemed so long ago he rememered the old movie buff, Amos Parker, mentioning the fourth dimension. Had they all been somehow dragged through a sort of time warp as well? His analitical mind couldn’t fathom how it had all been accomplished.

 They reached the lobby and he looked at his watch.

 “Oh Lord!” he said under his breath. It was already a past two. The test?! Anxious to know how the test would go, he took the two ladies by the arm to escort them toward the doors. They seemed to hold him back and he resigned hiself to being late.

 As they moved to the doors he glanced at the crowd around him. Could a mere motion picture have done this? Everyone seemed to be staring vacantly ahead and moving like cattle toward the exit--cattle being herded in slow motion.

 Through the crowd Kirk saw something that made him stop. The white-doated men he’d seen in the auditorium were rolling a gurney toward the door. Walking with them were two women. The younger, auburn-hared one was supporting the older lady. Both looked distraught and haggard.

 Kirk groaned as he left Sharon and Mrs. Jackson to shove his way toward the women.

 “Mrs. Shipley, Mrs. Shipley,” he called. On reaching them he looked down at the sheet covered form on the gurney, An attendant pulled the sheet back and Kirk looked into at the death mask face of his dear old friend. Tears welled up in his eyes. The aged, yet handsome face seemed to be sleeping. He looked over at the old lady. A wisp of hair had escaped her elegant coiffure as she gazed straight ahead, seeing nothing. He put an arm around her and gently kissed her cheek.

 “Dr. Miller,” said Sally Meriwhether. She was wearing a worried expression. “Have you seen, Jim?”

 Kirk had to think a moment before remembering the hideous scene behind the screen. Paulson’s agonized scream and sighless stare. Kirk choked out the words. “Not since intermission.”

 “Intermission?” questioned Sally. “I don’t remember any intermission.”

 Kirk stared at her. The bewildered young physicist began to wonder if perhaps each individual had been subjected to a unique experience -- each different from the others who’d taken part in the incredible soiree.

 “I...I haven’t seen him.” stammered the scientist as he moved slowly away from the two ladies and the body on the gurney.

 Leadenly he moved back to Sharon and Mrs. Jackson. Sharon didn’t look at him or speak. and he had an uneasy feeling about the future, but tried to rationalioze it into a practical perspective. The evening’s presentation had distorted his values and perception. His imagination was playing tricks on him.

 The trio stepped out into the dourtyard and Kirk looked at his watch. It was after two. He looked to the sky to the east where dark masses were forming to block out the sky. The clouds were moving rapidly toward them.

 He forgot his worries for a moment. The idea the Poject might finally prove operable drove all other thoughts from his mind. He must get to the plant.

 Forgetting Mrs. Jackson, he took Sharon’s hand and almost dragged her through the courtyard.

 The small, electric taxis were pulling up to the curb to pick up the early morning theater crowd. Some had to park far out in the street because of the crush and Kirk led Sharon hurriedly toward one of them.

 As they made for the cab, however, another, pulled in a bit too fast and swerved trhough the crowd. People dodged, screaming and cursing.

 “Look out! “ “Damned maniac!”

 The cab bore down on the hurrying couple. Kirk didn’t see it coming. Someone pulled Sharon back in time, but Kirk was struck a glancing blow that sent him sprawling to the pavement.

 He lay still for a moment, then tried to lift himself, but his lower body was numb. He hung for a moment teetering on one arm, then slowly toppled backward.

 He lay there on his back, looking upward into the clouded sky. He felt no pain --no feeling at all, only disappointment he was leaving his work unfinished. But as he watched the sky boilng and seething above, a smile flickered across his lips.

 Hope welled within him and his troughts cried out to the sky.

 “Come on! Come on! Maybe...just maybe....”

 Then he heard a crying, whimpering sound next to him. He turned his head slighly to see Sharon kneeling beside him Around her, shadows moved as the curious gathered to observe -- to feast their eyes on pain and death.

 He could see Sharon’s face clearly. She was leaning over him. Lit by the headlights of cars stalled by the accident. Her face was contorted in grief. Her shoulders shook with sobs, yet he could clearly see her eyes were dry. Not one tear of parting welled up within them.

 All at once her face was plunged into darkness as headlights were switched off to conserve battery power. Then he saw it. There it was again in her eyes. Lights, glimmering and flashing. Shdows moved among the many-colored beacons, caused them to dance and shimmer. The pupils dilated in the darkness and her eyes locked with his. She invited him in. Suddenly he remembered -- was it Parker who said he had the power? Yes, he’d looked into the Primagnon world before. Was it only yesterday? His intellect moved in to join Sharon’s. It swam there on the surface for a moment and then dove deep. Inside he was able to cast about within her inner spirit. She’d opened it to him. The strange ominous shadows moved and danced about him. The lights were blinding now. Some exploded like colored flash bulbs. Others were steady arc spotlights, and he felt teeming, seething movement.

 Finally he realized why he’d been beckoned into this sanctuary. Sharon had brought him in to show him he no longer had a place there. Nowhere could he find the shining love he’d taken for granted. It was gone. Vanished and replaced by strong new feelings that were alien to him.

 At length he felt her withdrawing and he was forced to leave her. She wore a sad smile as she looked down at him.

 A hand reached out from the shadows and touched her shoulder. She looked up and smiled at the shadowy figure beside her. His hand took hers and he lifted her up. Kirk’s vison began to blur. Lights from an arriving taxi caught the face of the shadowy back-lit figure. It was Parker. He could just make out another image move in to stand next to Sharon -- a vague phantom who resembled the dark Satan in the movie. Kirk wanted to call out to them, but the scene began to fade from sight, as if a fog had drifted across his eyes. They were vanishing -- his love and the power which had taken it from him. He tried to call them back. It was no use. His will was dissolving.

 At that moment splendid fires tore across the black, stormy sky, ripping this way and that. They were followed by rumblings that mingled with the heavenly fireworks.

 The spectators turned away. Forgetting he dying man in the street, they looked up toward the firey sky.

 A soft breeze began to blow along the avenue. The man could no longer see, but he could feel the cool breeze: the bits of paper and refuse that blew past him. A souvenir program for THE Movie fluttered close and settled against his shoulder.

 He sensed his life was rushing away from him and many thoughts flickered through his mind. He tried to grasp at them as they flashed by him. For some profound reason his imagination settled on the concept of the Primagnon. Was there such a being? Even such a race of beings? He had fought their ideology, but now wondered if perhaps there was some subtance to it. He knew this world around him was no longer his world. it had changed and perhaps he no longer had a place in it. Perhaps there were others who were better equipped to show the world the road to survival.

 His mind was now on a slow downward spiral as his reflections were projected on it. An overall impression began to form and move forward in his spirit. For a moment, it gave him peace.

 Suddenly a drop of water struck his cheek. Was it a tear. In his blindness he called out,

 “Sharon!”

 There was no answer.

 Another drop touched him, and then another, and another.

 The drops fell faster and faster, and began to soak the man who lay alone on the pavement.

 Above him and round him, forms were dancing, laughting and singing. The man smiled -- and died. It was raining.

 THE END