(STBSS 1st Place) 51:20

Hey guys, here is my simple entry for the STBSS contest. I hope you all enjoy it. Please feel free to comment on whatever you like. This story represents the New World Order forum and is taken from a dream I had. I may yet write a sequel, if there is a demand.

P.S. I swear I didn't realise that I had given my protagonist my handle. I was going to change it, but I liked the title too much.

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51:20
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“Okay champ, I want you to listen to daddy very carefully and do exactly what daddy tells you. Can you do that for me, Caleb?”
“Yes”.
“Attaboy. We’re going … well, we’re going to play a game. Like hide and seek, okay? We’re going to be real quite and some men are going to come in the house and look for us but we’re not going to get caught. Just like in hide and seek. Do you understand?”

From down the street, not far, came a tortured wail, as from someone in great pain.

“Why are you shaking, daddy?”
“Caleb, I need you to be a big boy for daddy now, okay? I need you to listen very carefully. Some men are going to try and find us, but we’re not going to let them, okay?”
“Okay daddy”.
“Good boy. Now, you’re going to be really still and really quiet for daddy. You’re going to put your hands over your ears and you’re going to shut your eyes real tight and no matter what happens you’re not going to open them are you?” Caleb shook his head no.

From next door, the sound of splitting wood and muffled voices and then a piercing, guttural scream that rent the hot summer night. Jeremiah felt as though a sliver of glass had travelled through his veins to embed itself in his heart. He tried not to hear as the scream next door begged and pleaded and poured forth its rage and its anguish.

“Caleb, you know that I love you, don’t you. You know that no matter what happens, your daddy will always love you and protect you and that if anything should ever happen and you and daddy get separated, you know that daddy will come for you, don’t you”.
“Are we going to see mommy?”
Jeremiah put his hand over his mouth and tried to hold back the tears. If he started to cry he knew he wouldn’t stop and he didn’t have that luxury. He was out of time.

“No champ, we’re not going to see mommy. We’re going to play a game, remember? Now, I want you to cover your ears and shut your eyes just as tight as you can. Remember what daddy told you about the men who were going to look for us? Well, they’re going to want to find us but they won’t be able to, okay. They won’t look for us in the secret spot daddy made”.

From the front door, the sound of heavy boots and creaking wooden boards.

“Okay Caleb”, Jeremiah whispered, “I need you to be quiet now. Don’t look, son, whatever happens you just keep your hands over your ears and your eyes closed tight, okay”.
Caleb cupped his hands over his ears and scrunched his eyes shut and nodded wordlessly.
“I love you, Caleb”, said Jeremiah, knowing full well that his son could not hear him. “You were such a gift”.

The sound of the front door being kicked in punched through the small, tightly enclosed space. Jeremiah put his hand over his son’s trembling mouth and tried to slow his breathing. He became acutely aware of the sensation of his heart pounding within his chest. He could smell the jacaranda trees that lined the street outside. Their rich fragrance crept into the house with the exposed night, lending a soft perfume to the humid summer air. Jeremiah heard loud voices, but through the wood above him and his fear within, he only caught every second word. He thought he heard something about an ‘executive order’ and then the words ‘immediate future’ and ‘own protection’ but he couldn’t be sure. Caleb shifted uneasily and Jeremiah tightened his grip. Even then, he felt very proud of his son. Caleb’s eyes were still shut tight and his tiny hands were pressed firmly against his ears. The silence was punctuated by the slow, methodical sound of footsteps roaming through the house above. Sweat began to bead on Jeremiah’s forehead and run down his face, stinging his eyes and raising tears. Jeremiah did not close his eyes to blink the tears away. He was too scared of what he might see when he opened them.

“What do you think? Holed up in the mountains with the rest of the rabble and the soldiers that got away?”

The voice made Jeremiah’s mind scream. He was numb from fear. It had come from the corridor just outside the room. Heavy footsteps grew louder, like something from a half-remembered nightmare and then Jeremiah saw a pair of thin blue lights groping their way through the darkness, shining down on Jeremiah and his son through tiny slits in the floor, casting a cruel eldritch glow through the tiny space.

“Probably, but orders are orders. I’d prefer to search and come up empty then let one get away and wind up in the camps myself”.

This second voice had a slight accent to it, but Jeremiah could not place it. He was certain that, under normal circumstances he would have had no trouble identifying it, but his mind was consumed by a single thought, a raw, primal instinct – to protect his son. All other thoughts were pointless, not even worthy of consideration, for they were not this thought. Trying to think of anything but keeping his son safe was like trying to drown the ocean.

The unseen voices paced about the room. Their heavy footsteps sent small vibrations through the floorboards, causing them to creak and shed layers of built-up dust. The dust fell on Jeremiah’s hair and rested lightly on Caleb’s tiny face. Jeremiah was glad he had remembered to cover his son’s mouth. As the footsteps of the voices approached them, Jeremiah felt Caleb begin to shake uncontrollably. He wished he could remove his hand and tell his son that everything would be all right, that his daddy was there and that nobody could hurt him while his daddy was with him. But he couldn’t, any more than he could protect his son should their secret be exposed. He was keenly aware of the summer heat as it seemed to pour itself into their cramped refuge.

“There’s nobody here”, the first voice said suddenly. “We’re wasting time. Let’s move on to the next one”.

Jeremiah heard the footsteps turn and recede back into the corridor. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and as he did so his sweat-drenched hand slipped from Caleb’s mouth, allowing the tiniest of whimper’s to escape the boy’s lips and hurl itself into the night. To Jeremiah’s ears it sounded as though the entire world had groaned its death throes. The footsteps stopped suddenly. Jeremiah quickly clamped his hand over Caleb’s mouth, hoping that the footsteps would turn around once more. But then he heard them advance towards their hiding place, growing louder and louder until they were surely only a few feet away.

“Check it”.

Jeremiah’s rational, thinking mind shut itself off and his world became one of broken sounds and shattered, confused images. Porcelain smashing. Blinding light, like needles in his eyes. Caleb screaming with a child’s terror as strong hands ripped him from his father’s grasp. The soft accent of the second voice screaming orders and vague threats. The scent of jasmine carried on a soft summer breeze. Caleb’s shoe in his hand. The dense feel of the humidity in the air. Powerful limbs shoving him roughly towards the shattered front door. People running, screaming, pleading. A convoy of dark vehicles. Soldiers in tan uniforms crucified on electricity poles. The soft crush of cool grass beneath his knees. A loud and sudden crack. The smell of cordite and long-ago hunting trips with his grandfather. Brief but intense pain in his chest. White specks that seemed to swim before him like schools of miniscule fish. As blackness took him, the last thing Jeremiah saw was Caleb being dragged from the house. His son’s eyes were shut, and he still had his hands over his ears.

[edit on 28-7-2005 by Jeremiah25]

[edit on 8-3-2005 by worldwatcher]

WOW! Great work....get that sequel going!!!

Hey, thanks mpeake, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Excellant work really......got my heart pumping!
Your a great writer IMO...Keep it up!

I enjoyed this as well. A great effort and i'm sure it will do well in the contest. You're a gifted writer my friend.

Wupy

Thanks Goddess and mrwupy. Receiving praise from you two is particularly humbling.

You have voted Jeremiah25 for the Way Above Top Secret award. You have used all of your votes for this month.

You're very talented Jeremiah25 and we're very pleased that you chose to share your talents with us. The story 51:20 was excellent. Not only did you aptly describe that summer feeling I was looking for, your dialogue was excellent. The conversation between a desperate father and an innocent child was very poignant even in it's simplicity. It was very emotional, riveting and exciting and had everything needed to be a winner. Congratulations and please do continue to share

Like worldwatcher said the dialog between the child and father, subtle yet very essential and drastic, it depended upon whether they survived or not.

Please post a following, everyone would enjoy more of your technique/ style and to understand what happened to the solders in the mountains and the child that was abducted by the grey suited men.

I also l liked the idea of crucifying enemies upon telephone wires, or poles, original and shows how the same idea can be brought into any time zone.

I'd like to know what era it is in, such as end of the world or nwo attempting to reign control, Nazi, etc something. Thanks for the story interview,

The Surrealist

Sequel, eh? Let me discuss it with my agent ...

[Turns to face a ragged, ancient-looking stuffed monkey with only one eye (and which doesn't squeak at all any more even when you press its stomach really hard) bearing a crude, hand-fashioned 'Agent' sign stuck to it before sobbing for five minutes]

Very well, I believe I can accomodate you. As for your question, the story is set right on the cusp of where the NWO siezes control. It was kind of based on a dream I have had (and continue to have), although the imagery is taken directly from accounts of Nazi patrols during WW2. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I think it has two more parts to it, although you can never be sure with these kind of stories - they tend to bully you into not letting them end.

Excelent work and congrats on winning

I just have to say congradulations on winning! I just KNEW this story was going to do VERY well!!!! I see I was not alone in thinking so if the judges deemed you the winner!!!

YEY!!!

congratulations!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To everyone who has posted their congratulations, an enormous and heartfelt thank you. I'm glad that people enjoyed reading my story. I'm currently working on a sequel, but in the mean-time (an expression which looks far more ominous when written) I'll post a few short stories and maybe dabble in some collaborative stories.

I really have been humbled by the overly kind responses I received to 51:20. The other stories in this contest were jaw-dropping in their displays of story-telling talent. I still can't believe the judges kept reading after PoD. Hopefully this will light a fire under our collective writers and we'll see some more quality stories. We have lots to look forward to.

very good story well done, but it was sad. .... Does the dad get his boy back??? whats going to happen?
It was very intentese. I can see now how you won. Very good writing.
Keep up the good work.

This is a great story, I can't wait for the sequel! Great job, and congrats on winning!