The Participants
Authors: Brian Blose
Tags: #reincarnation, #suicide, #observer, #watcher
Book I of The Participants
Published by Brian Blose at Smashwords.
Copyright 2013 Brian Blose. All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to
real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All
characters, places and events are used fictitiously.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please
purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading
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own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
author.
Contents
PART I
PART II
PART III
PART IV
PART I
Only a few customers dotted the convenience store
after the morning rush. From behind the deli counter, Zack observed
them. Two men in neon yellow t-shirts and old jeans perused the
not-so-fresh meats on display; the first chewed the dirt-encrusted
nails of one hand while the second debated whether he preferred
greasy ham or dry turkey. Based on their clothing, Zack decided
they must work for an excavation company.
The nail-biting first man had dull eyes and
a verbal tic that caused him to mumble an affirmation to everything
the second man said. The second man had the rugged looks women
found attractive and held himself as if he were well aware of the
fact.
“It’s grease versus saw-dust,” the handsome
one said.
“Yep,” said the nail-biter.
“Either way it’ll be on stale-ass
bread.”
“Yep.”
“Gotta love gas station food.”
“Yep.”
The handsome man rolled his
eyes at the continued agreement of the nail-biter.
He doesn’t like the guy,
thought Zack,
so why is he putting
up with him?
He had a theory, but there
was no way to be certain without asking a question.
“Does your father own the company?” Zack
asked the nail-biter.
“Yep. Err, no. I mean no. I work with my
brother.”
“Works
for
his brother,” the handsome man
said. “
Handles a shovel while I run the
equipment. I'll take the ham. Put it on the least stale bread you
got.”
Zack fulfilled the order while he turned his
attention to a kid buying a carton of smokes from Maggie at the
register. The leather jacket, name-brand sneakers, and
self-satisfied smirk provided Zack everything he needed to make his
call: a high-school student skipping school. Maggie rang up the
order without asking to see his identification.
A woman who looked about fifty entered the
store sporting purse, shoes, and clothing worth more than Zack made
in a month. The proud manner with which she displayed her articles
suggested she was far less affluent than she appeared. Zack doubted
she could afford her shopping habit.
In the back of the store, a young couple
pawed at each other in a public display. Both were less than
average in appearance. Zack imagined that fact contributed to the
ardor in their display of affection. For some, the only thing
better than being desired was having witnesses to the fact.
As Zack's gaze roved to the wall of windows
facing the parking lot and gas pumps, he noticed a rusted Fiat with
a missing license plate back into the handicap parking spot by the
doors. Inside the car, two occupants pulled masks over their faces.
His heart began to beat faster.
Maggie looked at him when he approached the
register. She was a nineteen-year-old high-school dropout and still
thought she was going places in life. For some reason, Zack liked
her irrational optimism. “Kelly wants to see you in back. Said it
was serious.”
Maggie threw her head like a stallion. “What
now? So help me God if she says I'm stealing again. I will flip on
her. Seriously, I'm gonna flip.” She stalked to Kelly's small
office at the rear of the store.
Zack stepped up to the register and smiled
at the fifty-year-old woman decked out in clothes she couldn't
afford. “Kids these days,” he said.
“I can't even remember that age.” She handed
him cash. “Pump two.”
“The two of you might be closer in age than
you think.”
The woman laughed. “How old do you think I
am, kid?”
Two men entered the store
behind the woman, ski masks concealing their faces and hands deep
inside pockets. They looked at one another before stepping into
line behind the old woman.
These two are
awful polite for robbers. They must be new to their
profession,
he thought.
“I think you’re
f
ive years old,” Zack said as he returned
the old woman’s change.
She frowned at him, obviously unsure how to
take him. “Funny,” she finally deadpanned before turning to leave
the store.
The men in ski masks pressed forward to lean
ominously over the counter. “Give us all your money,” the one
wearing a camouflage hunting jacket growled.
The past five years had been an eternity to
Zack. Five years observing creatures too simple to grasp the
pointlessness of their lives. Five years wishing he had never been
created. Five years waiting for the sky to open.
Zack smiled. “Are you trying to rob a gas
station?”
The one in camo leaned
closer, giving Zack a clear look into wild, bloodshot eyes.
Drugs
, Zack thought. The
second robber leaned in, looked at Zack with tilted head, and
smiled with feral intent. The second robber looked like he wanted
to shoot someone.
“Hey, idiots, there's this thing called a
cash drop box. We put large bills into a slot and the only way to
get the money out is for the owner to use his key. At most you can
get a few hundred dollars from a gas station. Hell, there's
probably less than that in this drawer because it's been a light
morning and we’ve had a lot of people use credit cards.”
“Open the register or I'll blow your brains
out,” camo growled at him.
“All I have to do is push the silent alarm
and the police will be here in minutes. You might as well start
running now, cause I'm not giving you deadbeats a single dime. Got
it?”
The second robber pulled a gun from his
jacket pocket and pointed it at Zack's face. Obscenities began to
pour from camo. Zack stared into the eyes of the man with the gun,
ignoring the barrel six inches from his nose. “You don't have the
balls.”
“Last chance, shithead.” The man pulled back
on the slide action, cocking the pistol. “Open the register or
die.”
Zack couldn't force a laugh, but he managed
to bring his smile back. “You didn't even have a round in the
chamber when you put that in my face? Do you think this is a movie
where people crap their pants whenever they hear someone load a
round? I'm not impressed. If you and your boyfriend run now, you
might have time for one last circle-jerk before the cops bust
you.”
The decision to kill registered in the
gunman's eyes. Zack just had time to notice the shift of intent
before a tidal wave of thunder hit him. He felt himself hit the
floor. His vision was gone, leaving a claustrophobic darkness in
its place. Fear and confusion struggled in vain against the
encroaching tide of oblivion. Thoughts dimmed and Zack was
free.
She shuffled her feet with the other women as the
brutes who had murdered their men herded them forward. Abduction
was a new experience for Elza. The world had grown increasingly
violent over the centuries to the point that its absence was more
remarkable than its presence. Elza thought that particular
observation would be useful to the Creator.
One of the women found the energy to sob.
Elza moved away from the noise, sure one of the brutes would charge
in to restore silence with more violence. A man shouted for quiet
and the woman swallowed her grief. They trudged in stillness once
more.
Elza studied the landscape. Trees, hills,
and streams dominated. She had determined long ago that the
intended subject of her observation was the people rather than the
environment. She only noticed her surroundings when she had nothing
better to observe or when she had trouble with her nerves.
The brutes had attacked her tribe's camp
without warning that morning, murdered men and children, then
gathered the surviving women together for their sport. Elza’s
constant handicap, the apathy men felt towards her, had saved her
from all but a little roughness. She didn't how long they would
continue to ignore her. Eventually, they would hold her down and
take their pleasure. Elza crossed her arms tightly across her
chest. As an Observer, it was her duty to bear whatever happened in
the service of the Creator.
It might be easier if she
didn't struggle. Elza banished the worries from her mind. She
should be grateful for the new experiences. The Creator needed to
experience everything possible through Elza's senses so that She
could have input for the design of the next Iteration of the
world.
Still
,
thought Elza,
it would be nice if the sky
opened before these brutes put their hands on me.
They stumbled to a stop at the edge of a
camp. The leader of the brutes, a man called Kallig, raised his
gray-bearded face skyward to roar in triumph. “Come look at my
trophies! I bring ten women for the tribe!”
Thirteen
women
, Elza silently corrected him. She
suspected Kallig was much better at spearing men in their sleep
than he was at counting.
“Who brought the other three?” asked a man
from the camp.
“I brought all of them, coward,” Kallig
said.
The man who had spoken walked towards the
captive women until Kallig barred his way with a spear. “You don't
get any of the women because you are a coward.”
The man smiled up at the taller Kallig. “I'm
not afraid of your spear and I already have a woman. Let me pass or
I will send you to meet your uncle.”
Kallig lifted his spear. “We'll have a feast
to celebrate my victory!”
Elza ignored the women's restless movements
as the man approached. While neither tall nor muscular, he strode
confidently, sizing up the situation with a steady gaze. Elza froze
for a second when his eyes met hers.
“My name is Hess,” the man said. “I know
this is probably the worst day of your life.” His brilliant blue
eyes met each of theirs in turn. “You will have time to grieve
later, but for now you need to be smart. Resisting these men will
only make them crueler. Try to please them as best as you can.”
A woman held out a hand to him. “Protect
me,” she said. “I will do everything to please you if you protect
me from them.”
Hess sighed. “Sorry. I don't involve myself
in these things.” His gaze caught Elza’s for a third time. He
frowned. “What is wrong with your eyes?”