Into the flashback, p.21
Into the Flashback, page 21
So you can imagine how intrigued we were when the ape man showed up and started picking through the carnage—especially when I called to him and he responded; squatting on the edge of the fountain like Chaka from Land of the Lost, cocking his head as though understanding (not the words, obviously, but the intent; that we were in trouble and needed his help).
At least that’s what I’d hoped—that is, until he scampered off the way he’d come and we were alone once again; just three former neighbors who wished they’d never left San Francisco (nor experienced whatever it was they had since). Just three average blokes from the Bay Area—who hadn’t had what it took.
But then he came back. And this time, he wasn’t alone.
“Because the square root of a squared number is the number itself,” hollered Fred, waving. “So when you put root beer in a square glass—which is to say, square root beer or take the square root of beer—you get beer! What is so hard to understand about that?”
We all groaned from our crosses.
“Look, Fred, just get us down, would you?” I looked at the ape man, who was looking at Fred. Reverently, I thought. “And what’s with the damn monkey?”
He stopped and dug in his Bermuda shorts. “Monkey? Did you hear that, Kong? Man says you’re a monkey. But then that’s what happens when you’ve got motor oil for blood.” He took out what appeared to be nuts and handed them to the creature. “Ran into this fellow in the food mart and he clocked me with a chunk of obsidian. By the time I came to, Penny was gone, you were gone, even the car was gone. But then this guy came back and I fed him some cashews; and we’ve been buddies every since. Isn’t that right, Kong?”
The thing bounced and grunted excitedly and sucked at the air between them. It sure acted like a monkey to me. “Seriously, though. Can you get us down?”
“Right, of course. Let’s see ...” He examined the base of my cross: a rugged, hinged affair which had been designed—I presumed—to raise and to lower it. “Okay—think I got it. Yep. Just hold on ...” Then he paused.
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
He scratched at his thinning hair. “It’s just that—I would have thought you’d be happier to see me.” He looked up at me morosely—forlornly, even. “Kind of hurts, to tell you the truth. I mean, are my jokes that bad?”
I started to respond but hesitated, wondering about the thing they’d hung on the cross and how they’d come into possession of it; remembering its rotting, reptilian body and its ancient, ancient face, and what I’d thought upon looking at it, which was that it was an evolved dinosaur, of sorts, a kind of manosaur—like whatever was in the spacecraft—something I now realized might have responded to T. rex piss spread on clothing—T. rex piss smeared on skin. Responded to and, thinking we were its own kind, spared us.
And if that were the case—it having been Fred’s idea in the first place—well, if that were the case ...
“Fred,” I said—and smiled down at him, “believe me when I say. I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life.”
“Really?” he said, beaming. “In spite of the root beer joke?”
“Really,” I said. “More than you’ll ever know.” I added, “And that’s no joke.”
After which, looking uncertain, he went about letting us down.
And the Flashback continues ...
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Wayne Kyle Spitzer is an American writer, illustrator, and filmmaker. He is the author of countless books, stories and other works, including a film (Shadows in the Garden), a screenplay (Algernon Blackwood’s The Willows), and a memoir (X-Ray Rider). His work has appeared in MetaStellar—Speculative fiction and beyond, subTerrain Magazine: Strong Words for a Polite Nation and Columbia: The Magazine of Northwest History, among others. He holds a Master of Fine Arts degree from Eastern Washington University, a B.A. from Gonzaga University, and an A.A.S. from Spokane Falls Community College. His recent fiction includes The Man/Woman War cycle of stories as well as the Dinosaur Apocalypse Saga. He lives with his sweetheart Ngoc Trinh Ho in the Spokane Valley.
Copyright © 1293-2022 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2022 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: HobbsEndBooks@yahoo.com
Wayne Kyle Spitzer, Into the Flashback
