An Extract from This Month's Release: How I Joined McCurdy's
How I Joined McCurdy’s
Started on February 15, 2016, and finished on April 7, 2016, this piece reflects the unexpected turns life takes. It was written for the March 23 entry of 366 Days of Flash Fiction, and is exactly 1,000 words long.
Pooled in the dark, the water gleamed, a thousand jewels floating on its surface, cave-stars, glow worms on another world. It took me a moment to realize they weren’t eyes, were not hunting me. I forced myself to stand still, take one long, slow breath, take another, scan the cavern, find a path around the pools.
I was deep beneath the starport’s heart, and would soon need to climb upwards, find myself a quiet space in the hold of the next freighter out. Halfway across the cavern, I heard the scrabble of claws. Two-thirds of the way across a low ululating snarl told me I’d been sighted. Damn!
I skirted the edge of the next pool, heard claws on rock, following after—skitter, stop, skitter—more cautious than when they’d pursued me down the tunnels on the other side. Clearing the last pool, I broke into a run.
Behind me, the skitter became a rush, followed by a screech, and a splash. More screeches followed, making me glad I’d avoided the pools, Not looking back, I pulled the scanner from my pocket, thumbing it to life.
Fast-paced beeping helped me locate an access panel set into the tunnel’s side. A quick burst of code unlocked it. I didn’t stop to ask who needed access to tunnels like these—was too glad to close the panel before the pack reached it. The thump on the other side vibrated against my fingertips, and was followed by a muffled yelp.
Frowning, I went up the stairs behind the panel. Not much choice, here; it was either climb the stairs or greet the pack. I went up cautiously, one eye on the scanner, hoping for something more than doorway at the top. I unlocked it the same way I had unlocked the one below, but more cautiously.
This time, it mattered what was on the other side. Last time, it only mattered that I got to the other side; festhonds had very sharp teeth and ate their prey while it was still alive.
Opening the door a crack, I found it slid, and pushed it cautiously wider until I could see out. Nothing. Not a skerrick of movement or sound, but I had light. It was cold here, colder than the caverns. The light showed lockers, or filing cabinets, either side. I hesitated, going back to face the festhonds almost appealing.
Thinking about that, I decided to check things out. It smelt a little musty in here. I stepped through the door, peering out from behind the cabinet. Still nothing—and these were filing cabinets: old-fashioned, metal filing cabinets—rows and rows of them, but no dust. Running my finger along the top of a cabinet, I pulled in a deliberate noseful of air, smelling it, tasting it as I circumnavigated the room.
There was nothing alive in the room—and, thankfully, nothing dead—but I still got the creeps. Triggering the scanner, I found no other door, and wondered who would store filing cabinets under a starport. I’d just decided I didn’t want to find out, wasn’t interested in what the cabinets might contain, when the lights started strobing.
That was enough—I bolted for the door, reached it just in time to hear claws on the stairs, used the scanner to slide it closed and lock it tight. When it started to open again, I triggered the scanner, and jammed it shut… oh crap.
My eyes soon started aching, and my stomach rolled. I closed my eyes. That helped—until the siren started. I curled up on the floor, wondering what else to try. Trying it meant I had to get up, again.
It took far too long to find the nearest speaker and use the scanner to shut it down. And then to find the next speaker, and the next. By the time I was done, tears blurred my eyes, and lunch was threatening to see the room for itself.
Returning to my corner and closing my eyes, I tried to think some more. Filing cabinets… under a starport… in a secret room, under a starport… It just seemed…wrong, somehow.
I cracked an eyelid, peered out to see if the strobing had stopped, and found myself staring at a pair of legs. In boots. Standing quietly. A foot from my face. At least the lights held steady.
“Found anything interesting?”
Opening my mouth to answer, I found it dry, swallowed, tried again.
“No,” I croaked. “Is there?” I pushed myself upright, using the wall to steady me.
At least, the uniform in front of me didn’t try to interfere. Didn’t try to help, either. I stayed, propped against the wall, waiting for an answer.
“You shoulda tried.”
“Didn’t wanta know. Not my business.”
“It is, now.”
What the hell did he mean by that? I glanced past the uniform, noticed a few more additions to the room: desk, computer terminal, stack of files, probably from the open filing cabinet two feet away. I looked into dark brown eyes, noted not even a flicker of humor, heard the festhonds scratching at the door. Something in my face told him I still didn’t get it.
He gestured at the filing cabinets, at the terminal, the bed and kitchenette, the door to a sealed unit that had appeared in the far wall.
“We’ll provide clothing, food, shelter.”
I must have still looked blank, because he gave a deep sigh, and indicated the patches sewn to the shoulders of his uniform. When he raised an eyebrow as though to ask if I understood, I shook my head.
“We’re McCurdy’s Crew. You’re our new historian.”
I swallowed. McCurdy’s. I should know that name. Couldn’t quite grasp it, then, but I’d known it would come to me.
“What happened to the last one?” I asked.
His lips quirked, and he reached over and took the scanner from my hand.
“Festhonds ate him,” he said, disappearing in the stomach-wrenching shimmer of an illegal teleport.
I took in the terminal and the pile of files, glanced around at the cabinets, and headed for the kitchenette. There had to be some coffee in there somewhere.
Cover art is by Jake at JCaleb Design, and links to 366 Days of Flash Fiction can be found on Books2 Read at: https://books2read.com/u/b6MrN0
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