Doll Bodies

By Jon Batson

A couple on the way to the doctor is accosted by an armed mugger and an unexpected visitor.
In one of many possible futures, people have banded together into packs to enhance their survival, except for a few who are out for themselves. A brother and sister foraging for food have more than wild dogs to watch for, there are also the "Selfers."
A distant planet, inhospitable and wild, has not much to recommend it, but it's popular anyway.
A dangerous assignment at the far reaches of space means only one way to decide who's to go and who's to stay – draw lots.
The office receptionist was beautiful, shapely and sexy – if only she was real.
In Smoking Bedpans, our heroine is first a suspect, then a witness, always in danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jon Batson
• Release date: Dec 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465783165

Jon Batson

Jon Batson is a prolific award-winning writer, talented entertainer and the driving force behind Midnight Whistler Publishers (MWP), an independent press located in Raleigh, NC. He publishes well-written, insightful, and thought-provoking non-fiction that focuses on education, politics and government. His six fact-based fiction books are intentionally provocative and refreshingly entertaining. Jon lives with his wife, Eileen, in Raleigh, NC and is currently writing his next novel. Visit www.MidnightWhistler.com and www.TheRealJonBatson.com Email [e-mail]

Book preview

Doll Bodies

Strange Tales

By

Jon Batson

Copyright © 2009 by Jon Batson

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-1-4657-8316-5

To Forbidden Planet, Invasion from Mars, Star Trek, The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, War of the Worlds, Star Wars, Mars Attacks and all the other wonderful adventures that shaped – and twisted – my young mind.

Midnight Whistler Publishers

http://www.MidnightWhistler.com

[e-mail]

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to events, locales or persons living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

For information [e-mail]

Manufactured in the United States of America

Contents

What they're saying...

Introduction

The Doctor is Waiting

A couple on the way to the doctor is accosted by an armed mugger and an unexpected visitor.

Selfers

This story won Honorable Mention in the Writers of the Future Contest and was a finalist in the Spring 2009 Rusty Axe contest. It takes place in one of many possible futures in which people have banded together into packs to enhance their survival, except for a few who are out for themselves. A brother and sister foraging for food have more than wild dogs to watch for, there are also the Selfers.

The Ponce de León Factor

A distant planet, inhospitable and wild, has not much to recommend it, but it's popular anyway. (This story can also be found at Amazon Shorts)

Short Straws

A dangerous assignment at the far reaches of space. There's only one way to decide who's to go on this one – draw lots.

Doll Bodies

She was beautiful, she was shapely, she was sexy – if only she was real. A tale of the replication of our species.

Smoking Bedpan

This story won Honorable Mention in the Writers of the Future Contest. Part of an upcoming series, Adventures of a Space Bum, our heroine is first a suspect, then a witness, always in danger.

What they're saying...

Jon Batson is not just a writer, but a storyteller. His gift is making you experience what his characters feel and see while he slings irony and witty asides that make others wonder why you're laughing so hard. He looks closer at the ordinary world and determines what extraordinary things a person can do given the right circumstances. The result is a story that won't be put down.

Alice Osborn, author, editor and teacher of Write from the Inside Out.

Colorful, engrossing, and highly entertaining! Jon Batson has produced an evocative collection of engaging characters whose lives unfold in amusing, tragic and, often, unexpected ways that send the imagination gliding over each one's winding paths, hairpin curves and jarring potholes with the artistic finesse of a truly masterful storyteller.

Karen Michelle Raines, poet/author

Batson's stories are contemporary yet reminiscient of an earlier time -O'Henry, Raymond Carver and Edgar Allen Poe come to mind. Luckily for us although the aforementioned have gone onto their last edit, John will be with us for a long time.

Steven Elliot, Falls River Books

I could hear you in every sentence. Easy reading, nice payoff, and a few surprises.

Gary Young, Author

Thanks for writing and sharing your short stories with me. Your characters in these creative adventures come alive with the action and your clean concise writing keep the tales moving at a fun pace! I enjoyed reading them and look forward to more.

J. K. Gildersleeve, Writer and Illustrator

Introduction

Ray Bradbury said, There's a freedom you have in the early morning, when you are relaxed and suddenly your characters begin to talk to each other, and you jump out of bed and write down the ideas before they escape you. If you don't instantly put down the idea, it will be lost forever. All of my good ideas are in bed in the morning or in the shower or taking a nap in the afternoon, when you are relaxed.

Many of my stories begin in the early morning hours when I have a dream so vivid that I wake up rushing to the keyboard to get them down before the day invades to erase all trace.

Selfers began with a single sentence: Are they gone? she whispered. The story unfolded almost without my stir; I was just taking dictation. Each of these stories told themselves in such a way, that I was surprised when I finished. You, the reader, reap the benefits.

Jon Batson

The Stories:

The Doctor is Waiting

The streets were still wet and the air was heavy with the hot, dank feeling that follows a summer rainstorm. It was not a rain that would cool the night. No, the night would be hotter for the dampness that filled the air.

The bus screeched to a stop, the door opened and a man with white hair stepped to the curb. He extended a hand to his wife and helped her down from the bus. The door closed and the bus continued on without comment or parting salutation, empty save for the driver.

The man's wife bent as she stood on the curb, holding the bus-stop sign for balance. The man stood by her, holding her, comforting her.

Come, Etta, the doctor is waiting.

The wife slowly nodded and began to walk, still holding onto the man's arm.

She'd had trouble keeping food down for the past two nights. She hadn't slept in that time. They had put off calling the doctor, they wanted to be able to pay him rather than beg for terms, but Etta was ill and it was time for the doctor. On the phone, the doctor was nice; he said he would be waiting, to come immediately.

It might have been the last bus, the man thought, it was that late. The doctor's house was three blocks from the bus stop. He dreaded those three blocks. The first was not bad, nor the last, but the one in between was ill-lit and uncertain; they girded themselves to walk as quickly as possible through the dark street to the doctor's door.

Raymond, said the man's wife, I have a bad feeling about this.

Don't be like that, it's just indigestion, something you ate that was bad. I'm sure he'll smile and give you a prescription for something and that will be that. He'll have a sample of some cure that'll put you right as rain.

I hope you're right, she whispered.

You know, I'm right, dear, comforted Raymond.

Hold it right there! came a harsh voice from the shadows. A man in a hooded sweater stepped from the alcove of one of the houses onto the sidewalk and in front of them. He was holding a pistol. The sight of it made Raymond's stomach queasy; Etta gasped and clung to her husband's arm as he tried to appease the robber.

We have no money, only bus fare back to home, if there is a bus. We are going to the doctor's office. I was going to write him a check, so I have no cash. I could write you a check, but it won't be for much.

Don't be funny, said the man with the gun. He took a step forward, putting the gun into Etta's face. You have something of value: rings, watch, something. Otherwise, say your goodbyes now.

As the man raised the gun, pointed directly at Etta's face, he began to cough. He coughed and convulsed, loosing focus. Raymond felt something snap inside of him and he reached out, striking the man on the face and taking the gun from his hand. To his surprise, the man dropped to the pavement unconscious. Raymond stood over the man, still holding the pistol, in shock, not knowing what to do.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Another man stepped from the shadows of the alley next to the building where they stood. He was a younger man, strangely dressed. He was clapping his hands with a slow and measured pace, looking rather pleased at what had just happened.

Raymond and Etta move closer to each other as if to form a united front against the man. The pistol in Raymond's hand was forgotten in the surprise of the moment.

What do you want? You already heard, we have no money.

No, I don't want money, and I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I have been waiting a long time for this opportunity. I know you're not going to believe what I am about to tell you, but it is the truth.

Raymond looked back over his shoulder to the street beyond, the doctor's house stood out from the others with the lights burning in the lower windows. He looked back to the young man.

I am from the future, 26 years, in fact. I am a student. It has been a year that I have waited for this chance, the chance to see an event that shaped my very life. You see, I'm your son.

Etta and Raymond looked at each other, disbelieving that they were even standing there hearing this. They had tried for children, but none came. Now that they had given up and reconciled themselves to be childless. The possibility that this could be their son was more unbelievable than being from the future.

"Yes, I know, you don't believe me. But