From the Dark Side of Shadow

By Annie Dameron

The heart is capable of kindness but also of cruelty. How far are you willing to go to get what you want? Will you disregard any of your morals or scruples? Who will you destroy in your path?

These short stories explore the darkness behind the genteel faces. Some may be watching from beyond the grave.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annie Dameron
• Release date: Oct 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466147898

Annie Dameron

Born in London, UK. I've been a writer since the age of 8. Now I'm a mum of three, a writer, an artist, and a linguist.

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From the Dark Side of Shadow

By Annie Dameron

Copyright 2011 by Annie Dameron

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The Listening Post

2300: Communication Post #115

The soft hiss of static echoed in the hollow space, like snakes in their winter den. Crackles and pops punctuated it at regular intervals. The line snapped and jolted Corporal Misner out of a doze. His hand flew to the holster at his side. The Magnum jumped into his fingers with a life of its own.

"Who's there?

The silence stretched like torn velvet. Misner's clear gray eyes darted to and fro, seeking an enemy lurking in the shadows. No one answered. There was only the comforting rumble of static from the speakers. Misner sighed and slid the weapon back into its place. He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand. Bristle rasped across his skin, mixed with the sweat of fear. A mirror sat propped on his electronic equipment, but he averted his eyes. A stranger stared back at him; he did not know the haggard animal on the other side of the glass. He refused to acknowledge him.

Misner reached out and tapped the red numbers on the chronometer: 2204. In two hours, he would be free of this cramped hole, hidden in the dark like a wild beast. Relief overcame a sense of dry humor. The recruitment posters said nothing about spending your life like a blind mole.

For honor, duty, country, went the official line. You are saving your fellows. Remember that. Misner's memory turned traitor on him: the cold and the whispers in the trenches, the rumble of artillery overhead. If he had not been here, then some other guy would be.

He got up from his camp chair. His right foot brushed against the portable generator. It gave a mild shiver, not unpleasant, almost sensual, in a way. Misner's mouth quirked upward in self-depreciation. The contact, fleeting as it was, reassured him and kept him sane. He resisted the urge to lean his foot against the generator again.

The communications post was six paces wide, thirteen long. Misner had counted every step. It was amusing to see, whether he could change the results with a longer or shorter stride. To his disappointment, it was the same each time. This time out, it was no exception.

His brief stroll had revived him and he sat down once more in front of his table. Misner slid the earphones over his head and manipulated the dials. The frequency whined in outrage and squealed like a harpy. He moved slower, taking it in tiny increments. The chirps remained the same, a monotonous tattoo of signals.

Misner wondered if his counterpart, there over the trenches, heard the same dead air through his 'phones. What could you discern from a ragged breath that lasted only a few seconds?

Misner crouched in his seat and listened. And waited.

*****

Time: 2335 Communication Post #115

The chronometer blinked. 2335.

Misner finished the frequency scan. He logged the results in his clipboard. All clear, no enemy signals detected at this time. J. Misner. Now, he began in reverse order, from high to low. The speakers trembled as the sound waves coursed through them.

He liked to pretend that the receiver was his special spy device. It picked up the conversations from HQ, the chattering of generals and field marshals. They bent over their plot boards, shifting counters and discs like some sort of bizarre game of the gods. In that perfect world, no one died. Victories piled up like so much coup. Defeats were unheard of and were unacceptable. In that perfect world, the enemy behaved as expected, making stupid blunders and stupid decisions.

But this was not a perfect world. They did not know the enemy. All their firepower was useless without information to direct it. The magic