Forgotten Dreams: A Collection of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Superhero, Paranormal and Speculative Fiction short stories

By Michael Cairns

Every week, a demon and an angel meet for coffee...
Sally’s discovered the secret to winning races... zombies don’t feel pain.
Edward’s received a letter requesting him to return to the warehouse. Apparently, he’s defective.
Shell is on a starship, heading for a place she’ll never see, fleeing an Earth she never saw.
Thell’s awaiting the verdict from the council, though she already knows what it’ll be...
London’s slowly drowning. Howard’s down the pub, trying to explain why having gills doesn’t mean they’re coming for him...

Forgotten Dreams is a collection of 21 short stories, spread across a wide range of genres, but all linked by a journey into the unlikely. From superheroes to murderers, witches to intergalactic detectives, Forgotten Dreams looks for the unlikely in the ordinary, the human in the fantastical, the dreams that stay buried beneath the waking haze.
Also, there’s zombies. Only once, though. I wanted to do more, but my other short story collection, A Spider Dreams, already has plenty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Cairns
• Release date: Feb 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781909699434

Michael Cairns

Michael Cairns was born at a young age and could write even before he could play the drums, but that was long ago, in the glory days - when he actually had hair. He loves chocolate, pineapple, playing gigs and outwitting his young daughter (the scores are about level but she's getting smarter every day). Michael is currently working hard on writing, getting enough sleep and keeping his hair. The first is going well, the other two...not so much. His current novels include: > Young adult, science fiction adventure series, 'A Game of War' 1. Childhood dreams 2. The end of innocence 3. Playing God 4. Breathing in space 5. Escape 6. Gateway to earth > Urban fantasy super-hero series, 'The Planets' 1. The spirit room 2. The story of Erie 3. The long way home >Paranormal horror post apocalyptic zombie series, 'Thirteen Roses' 1. Before (Books 2-6 due for release in spring)

Book preview

Forgotten Dreams

A Collection of Short Stories

By

Michael Cairns

Published by Cairns Publishing

Copyright © Michael Cairns (2015)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication

may be reproduced, distributed, or

transmitted in any form or by any means without the

prior written permission of the publisher.

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I love short story collections when I get a bit of insight into what the author was thinking or trying when they wrote something. I’ve tried to do the same with this. However, to avoid giving too away much and in order to be as candid as possible, I’ve put the comments after the stories. Thanks so much for buying this book and I hope you enjoy reading the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Above

The wind gets big up here, gusts of 300 and 400 kph rushing and racing through the long corridors. If everything wasn’t already magged down, it would be swept away in moments. I remember when the recruits first landed and one made the mistake of leaving the briefing room with her tablet in her hand. One moment she’s clutching it like a baby, the next it’s a tiny spot as it soars out of the city and into the blue.

Lessons learned. That was, ironically, the title of the presentation I’ve just finished giving. It’s the same one I’ve given for five years, now, but it works, so why screw with it? It’s important they know. Most of the landies don’t have a clue what really goes on up here. They don’t know about the deaths or the doubt. They just know someone’s up here looking out for them.

But the recruits, the ones that make it this far, need to know. The more they know before they begin, the less chance they have of making the same screw ups we did when we first came up.

I remember it like it was yesterday, though it’s been ten years. I remember stepping off the shuttle and glancing down. I imagined, for a moment, I was getting off a tube train and seeing the tracks through the gap between train and platform. Only, this time, I saw blue sky and the tiny dots of the countryside far below. My heart lurched along with my head and I grabbed the pole that ran alongside the docking board.

I could hear the commander chuckling behind me, so I straightened up, took a deep breath, and kept walking. The docking board wasn’t much longer than a tube platform, but the wind made it feel ten times that. I leant into it, glad for the oxygen tube poking over my shoulder. Not that that lasted too long. It only took a month for the challenges to begin. Who can make it from the shuttle to the door without using the oxygen tube? Who can do it without the pole either? Stupid games, stupid, dangerous games. Fun, though.

But on my first landing, I used both every step of the way, battling through the wind to the door. Stepping inside was blessed relief, as the temperature soared and I straightened up.

There were 12 of us, that first time. The city felt pristine, virgin, despite the two years builders and engineers had been climbing all over it. They were gone, now, until the maintenance crew took over, but for a few precious weeks, we were alone.

We needed to be. None of us knew it, then, none except the commander, but the things we were told that first week could never, and have never, been shared with anyone who goes back down. I’m surprised they don’t trust anyone, but then, I’m not sure I would, either.

We shuffled in, stripping off our shuttle suits and heading for the briefing room. In those days, I received the briefings instead of handing them out, so I sat with the other 11 and we watched Commander Terril stomp up to the podium and clear his throat.

‘Recruits, welcome to Sky City One. You’ve come here as pioneers of a new way of policing. Whilst the world drifts by below us, we’ll scan every last person down there. And when we see something happening, something serious, we’ll pounce.’

We all nod, grinning and fist-bumping. This was the same speech he gave us down below, after we’d made it through the endless trials and contests. We knew what was coming next. Except, of course, we didn’t.

His face shifts and he coughs again. ‘Recruits, you’ve been lied to.’

The room falls utterly silent. He makes eye contact with every one of us, nodding as we wait, eyes wide, for the truth.

‘I’ve lied to you and so has your government. We are a police force, that much is true. But there’s a different reason for us being up here.’ He turns and clicks a remote control he has in one hand. The screen behind him flashes into life. On it is a picture of what looks like a giant fly. There’s a chance it looks giant because it’s on the screen, but I have the feeling we’re seeing it life size.

He steps to one side and jabs a finger at it. ‘Study it, carefully.’

We wait for more, but there isn’t any, so we just stare. It’s not quite the same as a fly. Its wing span is wider and its wings, narrower. Its legs are just as furry and gross, but its head has a jaw beneath it instead of the nasty sucker thing. Everything else is the same. Except for the size.

‘What is it?’ The guy beside me calls out. Jackson. A nice guy, not the sharpest, but stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, and brutally cold. He destroyed everyone in the tests, me included. Except for the thinking ones, I beat him on those. But sometimes you need someone who hits first and asks questions later. That’s what I assumed, anyway. I’m guessing most of my assumptions are going to be a load of rubbish.

‘We’re calling it a Space Fly.’ The commander holds up both hands, grinning ruefully. ‘I know, it’s a shitty name. But it doesn’t look like anything else. And before you ask, we know jack shit about it.’

He strolls back to his podium and jabs at his tablet. ‘What we do know. They appeared about three years ago. One of the long range satellites picked them up as they entered the solar system. As you can imagine, they aren’t exactly easy to see in space, but the sheer numbers made them stand out.’

‘What kind of numbers, sir?’

‘Have a look at this.’ Another click of the remote. We’re looking at a planet. I should recognise it, but I’ve never been hot on those sorts of things. It looks like it’s covered in dark clouds, but as he clicks the remote again, we zoom in and I see what the clouds really are. My throat fills with bile as I cover my mouth.

‘They swarm. They aren’t like locusts, or not so far as we’ve figured it out. But they swarm, by the billion. The temperature of Uranus has risen significantly, despite the massive drop in sunlight reaching the planet’s surface. The colony was cleared out two years ago.’

‘Where did they go?’

The commander blushes. I didn’t think he was capable of even feeling those sorts of emotions, but there’s no doubting he’s ashamed of something.

‘There are some hard truths you’re all going to have to come to terms with, and fast. I’m sure the quickest amongst you’ - his eyes flick over me and I half squirm, half sit up straighter - ‘are wondering why this is all so secret. Let me tell you why now, so there aren’t any doubts. The space flies are swarming. Uranus is gone and Saturn will be next. We have a decade, maybe two at most, to find the solution. Until we do, you guys are the first line of defence.’

That was ten years ago. We’ve not found a solution and the ‘maybe two’ was optimistic. But the population of Sky City One’s gone from 13 to well over a 1000, every one of us hardened by months of fighting. It’s disgusting, close-up, hard fighting, the kind that either builds muscle or tears you apart. I’ve seen more than my fair share of tearing, more than I ever wanted to.

So now we have the new recruits. 12 green as grass newbies to whom I’ve just had to tell the truth, the same truth Commander Terril told us. They’re my recruits. It’s my turn. It should have been Jackson’s, but we swapped. He’s having a bad month. He’s been having a bad month for a while now, but anything I can do to make it less bad, I do.

Partially, I do it because I love him. Partially I do it because I hate waking up in the morning and having him lie next to me, bitching and moaning about the day ahead. I love him, more than anything in the world, but I’d be happier if he just dealt with his shit instead of unloading it onto me.

Not that I’ll ever tell him. I don’t think that would be good for our relationship, not at all.

‘Recruits. Form up, eyes front, mouths closed.’

They do it, faster than we ever did. But then, the training’s got harder. They’ve stopped pretending it’s for the regular police, now. Apparently, the world policing situation is better suited to special forces types, which is absolutely true, though none of them know quite what world policing means until they get here. But it means the 12 kids standing in front of me are stronger, faster and smarter than anyone else on the station.

They’ve been getting smarter the last six months. I’m still waiting for one to realise they’re better at everything than we are and call me on it. Hasn’t happened yet. I’ve a feeling it’s because when they first meet the flies, I’m the one shooting and they’re the ones puking into their suits or screaming like little children.

I stroll along the line, making eye contact with every one of them, making sure they know I’m seeing them. We’ll be making first contact in five days. So I’ve got five days to take them from the state of shock in which they currently find themselves, to battle ready. It’s as laughable as it’s always been.

‘Anyone have any questions?’

‘Sir, why weren’t we told, sir?’ It comes from the girl on the end. I clocked her when she came in. Five nothing, shortest recruit we’ve had in a long time, and slim with it. There’s not much there, though I’m sure she’ll soon prove otherwise.

‘Why do you think, recruit?’

‘Widespread panic and everything that goes along with it, terrorism, wars, mass exodus.’

‘That just about covers it.’

‘Why aren’t we evacuating?’

‘Evacuating to where? Did you see the moon?’

She did see it. It’s why she’s biting her lip instead of asking another question. The moon looks like it’s wrapped in smoke. The colonies there have been emptied, same as the rest, the bodies of the colonists used to slow the approaching army.

They’re doing an excellent job, as well. For every dead human floating around in space, we buy an extra hour or two before the flies grow tired of the moon and head further in, to Earth. Of course, before they do that, they’ve gotta come through us.

I swallow and blink away my thoughts. I wish I believed coming through us meant something. 1000 humans against billions of flies, each the size of a car.

‘We begin training in 20 minutes. That’s how long you’ve got to find your room, get your stuff in, and take a shit.’

I’m walking before they dash past me, scrambling for the lifts. I should be heading straight for the combat room, prepping it for the first session, but my assistant will have already done it. So instead I amble to the end of the long tunnel, to where it empties out into the near dark of the upper atmosphere.

The city rose late last year. We took it up several 1000 metres, further into the darkness of space. And away from Earth. Before then, we were experiencing attacks maybe once a week. Then, as the flies swarmed the moon, it became an attack every day, then several attacks every day. Now they’re almost constant. The faint thud and hum of blaster shots is so background I no longer notice it. The recruits winced, though, when they first arrived. They didn’t know what they were hearing, or why, but they recognised gunfire. They knew the sound of combat.

I sit myself on the lip of the tunnel, legs dangling over the Earth. Turn off the mags, one little push, and I’d be flying. I’ve sat here too many times, and imagined the push too often. Every day, there’s less that keeps me here. Jackson, obviously, and the struggle. But the struggle’s not going to last much longer and there’s no way I’m going down like that.

I’ve seen it happen, up close. Just last month, a couple of the flies got through the cordon and into this very tunnel. A new recruit, on the city less than a week, came charging out with his blaster. But it malfunctioned. These things happen, of course they happen, but I was too slow to stop what came next. The flies landed on her, slamming her to the floor.

Those jaws, that look so tiny compared to their eyes, bit and tore open her suit. The vomit came next, spewing from their mouths to melt into her skin and flesh. I can still hear her screaming. Once she was suitably soft inside, the flies started to suck it all back out, her liquidized organs disappearing down their throats.

By then others had arrived and both flies were torn apart. But by then, the recruit was jellified from the inside out. I shudder and shake my head. I’m not dying like that. So why not end it with the long drop, the one way journey to Earth more than one new recruit takes after their first encounter?

Because I’m not a coward. Because of Jackson. And because the 12 men and women I’ve just told the truth to are waiting for me to keep them alive. Bloody fools.

The next five days go slow. It’s rare that they do, but I’ll take what I can get. These 12 are good, not one weak spot amongst them. The girl, Dixie, is faster than anyone else up here. She’ll be useful, assuming she’s heavy enough to wing ride. I’ve already got tech support making her up a pair of extra heavy mag boots.

There’s another, a Nigerian called Weller, who’s beyond capable with guns. He fires like he’s been doing it since he was born, which he may well have, considering the political shit going on there. But he belongs up here. He’s a natural. Damned funny, too.

I like this lot. They want to be here and, now they know why they are, they’re rising to the occasion. We had a group, a few months back, who should never have come. Not one strong one amongst them. Smith was given them, which was maybe the first mistake, but I’m not sure anyone else would have fared better. In the end, they all held hands and took the long drop together. 12 guardians of the Earth, all going back to her, guarding nothing.

But not these ones, not my ones. They’re ready. And today’s the day.

We’re taking out two buzzards, six in each. I’ll be riding with squad one. Jackson would normally accompany squad two, but his recruits have arrived today. There’s no time to waste these days, none of that one-wave-a-month bullshit. So they’re on their own, but I’m confident that between the intercom and Weller, who’ll be taking