Convolute Prine

By Elver von Gondwanis

Dying isn't as fun as it once was. There was usually a relaxing period to reflect on what one had taken away from the event. Now, it was a race from one life to another like some existential scavenger hunt using Megatronex's checklist of "approved" game play.

When did this happen? And what can Eddie do about it after he was put in a coma?

Especially when they react violently to any opposition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martian Publishing
• Release date: Aug 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463275979

Book preview

CONVOLUTE PRINE

The Battle for the Afterlife

By Elver von Gondwanis

MARTIAN PUBLISHING

Copyright 2019 by Martian Publishing Company

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No portion of this volume may

be reproduced in any format

without the express written

permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to persons or

organizations, living or extinct,

is entirely coincidental.

PART I

At the Confluence of Two

Structurally Incompatible Edifices

~~~~

ONE

Beckoning Coma

A freezing rain began to fall. Eddie muttered and wiped the inside of his windshield yet again. He cursed himself for the twelfth time this evening for signing up to help with this geek rescue service at the onset of winter (knowing this was the 'seventh year' and going to be a bad one). His excuse escaped him at the moment, but was something he vowed to correct as soon as he got home... IF he got home. And if the phone lines were not down already. He cursed again, and wiped the glass again.

At thirty-five, one could expect to be securely ensconced in their selected field, but here he was starting over in yet another new career -- two, if you included this driving in these ridiculous conditions. Most friends he grew up with had taken that stable route, while he dabbled in this and that, always trying to find his niche. Now, those friends had children in high school while he was just starting a family. And boning up to get his GED.

Yes, he chuckled dryly to himself, life certainly was funny, but quit thinking and concentrate on the road. Earlier, there had been plenty of slush on the roads to make the drive annoyingly tense when he started this latest rescue: a frazzled gray-haired gentleman with a home-based web business to whom time was money – at least his own time. As if that was the most important…

A sudden lurch brought Eddie back to the present. The freezing rain had changed the slushy conditions into a glass-smooth danger. Instinctively, he slowed again, though the speedometer registered less than twenty miles per hour. Fortunately, there was no traffic on this road to be annoyed by his snail's pace. Yeah, no one in their right mind is on the road tonight, he thought. It was but one of the many blessings of their rural location: no traffic to be bothering or rushing him; no honking, no cussing, no fingers being exercised in his direction...

He tensed. It also meant an accident might not be discovered for hours. He pulled his glove off with his teeth and fumbled on the seat for his cell phone, hoping it would make a connection in these horrid conditions.

Static... click... half a ring... static... click...

Hello? the voice crackled.

Hey, hon! Ed here, getting near the creek -- almost home.

Ed? Crackle... static... ...say what? Where.... you?

At the creek! I'm at the creek! Can you hear me?

...creek? Trouble... phone cutting...

Yes! I'll be home in five minutes!

Five minutes. Okay, swee.... ya soon. 'Bye.

'Bye.

Whew! Bad connection, but at least he got the message through. If something happened, help might get here before hours passed. IF, he thought again, but I certainly hope not. He concentrated harder on the familiar track ahead, wiping the windshield again and braking instinctively before descending to the creek.

Tap. Tap. Tap the brakes. The speedometer eased down to the lowest number: five. He eased up and down slowly on the brake as the road gradually sloped, careful not to press too hard or ease up too long. Curve gradually to the left, then slowly back to the right, and then ease across the small stone bridge. Coasting over the frozen creek, he exhaled and wondered idly how long he had been holding his breath. He gave it a little gas. The hill coming up out of the creek was not as steep as the one he had just descended and he relaxed slowly.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed up beside the car. Deer! His instincts took over, braking and turning to avoid collision. The car spun on the ice and for a moment all he saw was a blur as his headlights scanned rapidly in a circle. Turning into the skid, he tapped his brakes to stop the skid.

All motion ceased. The sound of the motor could barely be heard between his panting breaths.

Putting it in neutral, he set the brake, unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door. The cold air was bracing, invigorating, waking him completely as well as easing his rattled nerves. He marveled at the talents he called up at such times -- where had these memories or instincts of physics and driving come from? He shrugged to himself and breathed deeply. The light sounds of ice particles hitting the ground came to him before the crunching of his boots on the icy pavement drowned out all other noise.

The spinning had pointed the vehicle back at the bridge once more. Looking up the road he considered just hoofing it the last half-mile and getting the car tomorrow. The road was narrow, but there seemed enough room for another vehicle to pass. He sensed a motion. He looked down at the tires. Was the car rolling? He thought he had set the hand brake...

Yes, the car was moving: but sideways. It was going to slide off the road!

Quickly, he opened the door and hopped inside. He gave it gas, but the wheels found no purchase. To his horror he realized his getting in as well as spinning the tires had accelerated the sideways motion. He thought about getting out again just as the farther wheels hit a rut. The door came slamming shut and he was overcome with a weird weightless sensation. The car seemed to be tipping over! Stunned, he felt the momentum transferring upward through the vehicle as the car swung over into the ditch, freeing the wheels stuck in the rut, slamming him to the passenger seat, and now sliding on the passenger side down the small slope on ice until it slammed up against a power pole.

He shook his head to clear it and looked... UP... through the driver's door window.

The freezing rain was collecting rapidly on the now horizontal surface and he could barely make out the pole weaving slightly from the blow. Moving to free his arms, he grabbed the steering wheel and stood as best he could. Now, for sure, he was going to have to walk home in the blizzard. He wrenched at the handle and pushed up on the door. Amazing how heavy those doors are, he thought. They swing open so easily, usually, that one does not consider their actual weight. Pushing harder, he noticed he was damp inside his Eskimo suit. Tension had started it and the recent exertions had exacerbated it. He would have to make sure he did not open his jacket before he got home or he might be facing a full blown case of pneumonia.

Forcing the door open a bit, he stepped upward, using the headrests on the seats to propel his torso up and out of the vehicle. A frozen metallic body giving birth into a frozen world, he thought with a touch of the macabre.

Half out of the door, he turned to get more of the weight of the door off him, when he heard a crack above. He looked up in time to see the power cable snap in two. One section fell lose. Like in some horrifying slow motion techno-thriller he saw it falling – toward him – tiny sparks flying as the miniscule ice crystals fell against the exposed wires, giving up their lives in some insane cosmic dance: see me, I existed for a moment!

Realizing he was soaking wet and pinned between two large pieces of metal, he wondered again how long it would be before anyone came down this road. And find... what?

The wires descended closer. He wondered if he could free himself in the 1.2 seconds he had left, and concluded correctly that he could not. He wondered, now in what science class did I ever learn anything like that? In wide-eyed fascination he saw the wires touch the car and his final thought: I wonder if this is gonna hurt much?

The night lit up in a torrent of sparks. The blinding flash of light was followed by a blinding flash of darkness.

~~~~

TWO

On the bright side…

The corridor was well-lit, he could at least give it that. But it was so very boring!

He could not remember how he came to be in this corridor, but when Eddie pushed his memory back, he could remember only more of the corridor, before that everything was a little fuzzy. He could remember his childhood, growing up in west Texas, the girlfriends, and his wife Marcy, but getting into the corridor escaped him. He tried another door on the right. Locked! Just like all the others. He continued walking. The feel of this experience was like a dream, but his own or another's he could not tell. Heck, he thought, if this is my dream, why won't any of the doors open?

Just like the doors in your life, eh?

Eddie looked around for the source of the voice. There was no one there, nor any speakers that he could see, just the corridor stretching off to infinity in both directions.

And who might you be? he asked of the corridor. Are you God?

There was a chuckle, followed by: A lot of people have just called me 'the voice in their heads'.

So that would mean you are God, at least my interpretation of you.

I much prefer 'voice in the head' to 'interpretation of God'. The former has a more artistic ring to it.

Okay, voice in my head. Why won't these doors open?

"As in life, Edward, not all doors open to you. Can you imagine the utter chaos if all doors did open? No one would get anywhere in life."

Very funny. He shook his head and continued walking. Would you at least put a marker or something on the doors that will open for me?

Since we have time, at the moment, and you are not doing anything else of interest, I suppose we could open all the doors for you. If nothing more than at exercise in futility, as you will soon see.

Another door loomed on the left. Any door, you say? Like this one?

"Yes, that one or any other one up ahead. Take your pick. For a change, all doors will open to you."

Thanks, pal. You are so kind. But this is my dream, after all. He reached for the knob.

The voice chuckled again.

Eddie paused, hand on knob. Wait! This isn't some kind of trick is it? Like I open the door to find another corridor just like this one?

No, nothing like that!

"Good. I've had that dream before and it really sucked."

I know.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open.

You! Get over here and give me a hand!

Eddie blinked at the scene. The room seemed to be swaying. Rough timber, dark and damp, were the walls. One small window seemed taken up with a large cylinder that seemed – though his eyes were not completely adjusted to the dimness – seemed to be a cannon. His eyes bugged – a cannon with a dead body laying across it!

You! Snap out of it, man! Eddie realized the voice was not in English, but he understood the words well enough. He stumbled closer to see what the man wanted, only to pull up short at the sight of the man trying to stanch the flow of blood from the stump of what once was a leg.

A loud noise sounded above him, and he suddenly realized this was a ship! And in the middle of a battle!

He turned and ran out the door, slamming it shut as another blast sounded.

~~~~

THREE

A Carnival of Lights

What the hell was that supposed to be?! Eddie looked around, blinking, waiting for his eyes to adjust again to the brightness in the corridor after the short time spent in that dim rolling chamber. Well? He waited. O, voice in my head…?

Sensing no response, he shrugged and headed down the corridor to the next door. He took hold of the knob and steeled himself, half-expecting the damned thing to be locked. He turned the knob and it clicked.

Leaning close to the edge of the doorframe, he opened it slowly and peeked inside. Daylight on a well-worn dirt roadway through a wooded area. He stepped through slowly and looked side to side, ready to duck back into the hallway at the first sign of trouble.

He heard a bird chirp, felt a slight breeze on his face.

No sounds, no shooting, no screaming. He stepped through the door and onto the packed roadway. Seems a nice rural setting. And from the ruts in the road, I'd say there aren't too many automobiles around here.

He strolled along the roadway wondering why he felt a little rush of fear when he thought about automobiles. Had he been in an auto accident? He could not remember any and his first car – a hopped-up VW bug – had been begging for a collision.

Strange, but he had not thought of that in years.

A metal sound brought him out of his reverie. It seemed to be coming from up ahead, somewhere on the left. Perhaps there was a farmer working on his field – though he could not see far enough through the trees to see any farmland – or perhaps some logging enterprise.

The sound grew louder as he walked and it seemed there was more than one sort of metallic sound. It sounded more like a competition at a blacksmiths' convention. What sort of activity would have so much metallic noise?

A scrap yard! Yes, he remembered the scrap yard that was down the road from Eric's house… he must have been, oh, about eight at the time. The noise from the scrap yard sounded about like this. A lot of banging on metal, squishing it small, down to blocks. All the shiny new automobiles ended up crushed into small convenient carrying sizes, for packing away or for curling.

He stopped. Curling? A large metallic block would not slide across ice easy enough for that sport. That was ridiculous! Still, there was some apprehension in yet another thought about automobiles.

Shaking his head, he started again toward the noise. Soon he could hear voices and gooseflesh rose on his arms. Those voices were not keeping cadence with the blacksmith's hammer blows. It sounded more like… a fight.

The trees were growing thin on his left side as the dirt road turned gradually to the right and began to descend slowly. Flashes of sunlight reflecting off metal-in-motion, surging at some distance from the trees.

Eddie left the roadway and stepped carefully through the trees to see what was going on. What he saw made his jaw hang slack.

Knights fought one another, swords crashing into shields and armed bodies alike. Other metallic remnants – scattered on the ground much like the rubbish at the scrap yard of his childhood – littered the field among the combatants.

Who was fighting was the furthest thing from his mind as he made his way back to the path and away from the action.

The exit door appeared before him and he was back in the hallway, realizing that he was shaking.

He tried to forget the bloody scene and continued to the next door, needing something to get his mind off the melee. He peeked through and quickly closed it against a sharp report. He turned to the next still smelling the gunpowder discharge.

Door after door he tried and came across scenes of battle. In many he could recognize the combatants but some puzzled him. In one scene there was a mass of people painted blue charging down a hill against another group of people with the same coloration. Another disconcerting room was pitch black and he almost stepped through to look for a light switch when a blast of light lit up a spaceship. Another returned fire on the first. He closed the door holding his breath.

He did not really think the door opened into the vacuum of space but he certainly was not willing to risk it.

~~~~

FOUR

A Little Peace

I wonder why so many of these doors lead to war? Eddie mused aloud. Is that the only thing people think is interesting? He walked past several doors no longer so deeply interested in what secrets each might reveal. In his few history courses in school he remembered that the main thing they taught about were the wars fought over the centuries and put such special importance in the treaties following each conflict… the Treaty of Versailles, the Peace of Calais, the Treaty of Ghent, and so forth… he could not remember all the names much less the important effects each was supposed to have imparted to mankind.

To his mind, the wars were just war and the treaties ending each simply gave the spoils to the victor. What great message to humanity had any of it contained? It seemed to him that the great inventions of history had more importance than the treaties. And the great social movements seemed to have a better payoff. War and its finality always seemed to bring nothing but another war.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor. What if he wished for a different sort of scene, would the next door deliver? With a shrug, he turned to the closest door and opened it wide.

A small wooded glade greeted him, the gurgling of a small stream emptying into a pool edged with moss and grasses, and an aroma that could only be thought of as fresh. This was the aroma the aerosol cans were looking for but they never got it right.

He stepped through into the quiet stillness. Standing still, he waited for the other shoe to fall.

Moments passed with nothing startling.

Stepping closer to the pool, he saw the small ripples coursing across the surface of the pond, keeping rhythm with the gurgling sound. At the far end of the pond, a scant fifteen feet from the end at which he stood, it seemed the water exited the small pool and continued along its course.

His eyes turned to the foliage surrounding the clearing. The broad-leafed plants and the pink and purple blooms looked like nothing he had ever seen before. Perhaps, he mused, he was in a tropical setting, like a jungle in Africa or South America. He had never studied the subject in any depth but it seemed to be what those climates would resemble.

Cocking an ear, he strained to hear anything over the burbling water.

Nothing. He relaxed and moved nearer the pool, and sat with his back against a moss-covered round rock.

Time to try and take stock. How had he gotten in this corridor, anyway? At first he thought it was some sort of dream but it had gone on far longer than any dream he recalled. So, was it simply a new type of dream or had he been taken away to some sort of techno-funhouse.

Another thought he had was that he had gone stark raving mad. But he knew less about that state than dreams, so he steered clear of that track. Besides, if he had gone mad none of this – especially not realizing his insanity – would make any difference.

At least he did not think so.

He woke with a start. He rose quickly, wondering what had woken him. Listening, trying to calm the over loud beating of his heart enough that he could hear his surrounding, he strained to hear while turning around.

Nothing. Other than the same peaceful sounds that had been heard when he arrived, there were no new sounds.

Strange, he thought, I don't even hear any insects. Doesn't plant life require insects for their survival? Another shrug. He was not sure about that. Botany had not been a special subject for him either.

He stepped back to the pond and wondered if the water was safe to drink. He could not remember the last time he had something to eat or drink. If there had been any fruit apparent on the trees, he would have tried one. But at least there was water readily available.

He got down to his knees and leaned low over the pool, reaching his cupped hands forward. Something was there! Behind him!

He whirled around quickly to catch the creature…

There was nothing there. He remained alone in the clearing. Then that could only mean one thing. He turned again and gazed in the pool.

An overlarge pink head, bald, with triangular shaped ears and large coal black eyes. Bald? He felt the top of his head, ran his fingers through the hair it found there.

The reflection merely rubbed his bald scalp. The three long slender fingers wiggled in response to the four on his hand. What sort of madness was this?

He turned and walked around the pond and through the foliage at the far edge. He was standing on a ridge that overlooked a lush valley filled with similar pink and purple blossomed trees like those he was standing beside.

No sign of a city or any form of civilization was to be seen. It was as if it was a virgin planet again. An Earth long before the cesspool Man had made it, and apparently long before the dinosaur had cut their gigantic swath.

But if this was so very long ago, what was he doing here in this disguise?

He shrugged and returned to the pond for that drink of water.

It was the best tasting water he had ever drunk.

Then he curled up on the lawn and slept.

~~~~

FIVE

By George!

He woke up still on the lawn and stretched. Rising, he looked around and thought that there did not seem to be any life here other than plants or he should have heard something by now.

And now he was getting hungry

None of these trees seemed to be bearing fruit and he was not real sure eating the plant life was a safe thing to do. He shrugged to no one and headed for the exit and in a moment he was back in the all-too-familiar hallway to nowhere.

Behind one of these doors he would have to find something to eat before he collapsed from starvation. He glanced both ways trying to remember which direction he had come. He closed his eyes… left. He had turned left to arrive at the pond, so he had been heading to the left down the corridor.

Not that it really mattered, he mused, but there were a few doors he had already tried that he certainly did not want to venture into again.

Striding toward the next door, he noticed there was a little more bounce in his step. Purpose, that's what it was. He was no longer simply wandering in the wasteland, he had a place to go.

He just hoped this next door would be that place.

Hey, George!

He stopped short and looked back along the corridor. There was no one there to be seen and the view stretched for miles, straight as an arrow.

Turning back, he looked along that unexplored stretch with the same result.

George! Over here!

The voice was coming out of nowhere. The strangest thing was, he felt whoever it might have been was calling to him, George or not.

Hey, Eddie spoke aloud, voice in my head, is that you?

There was no response but for a growl from his midsection.

It spurred him onward to the door. He paused, holding the knob a moment and closed his eyes, as if in prayer, and said, Food.

He opened the door.

It was evening and the air was moist, the dampness spilling over onto the sidewalks and the street reflecting the street lights.

The crowds passing by were not overly thick and the traffic seemed minimal, a few bulky cars creeping slowly along, tires hitting puddles and sending up cascades of water which the pedestrians jumped to avoid.

George!

He turned and saw a hefty middle-aged man pulling a twenty-something woman along in his wake. Neither of them seemed in the least familiar, but he knew they were heading toward him.

George, the man stopped a couple of feet away causing the moving humanity to divide like the Red Sea around their small island.

Eddie grinned.

How've you been, buddy? The stranger laughed. He held the woman's hand up. And this here's Mildred.

The woman smiled and removed her hand from the man's grasp and extended it. Sorry, the name's Susan.

He shook her hand, enjoying the pleasant smooth electricity of her skin. And my name's Eddie. Pleased to meet you.

Likewise.

Georgie-boy, we were just heading out for a bite, would you like to join us?

Sure! Eddie thought someone upstairs was looking out for him. I'm famished!

The larger man laughed. You scrawny guys never eat enough to begin with. He took the woman in one elbow and Eddie in the other and pulled them along the sidewalk. Mildred hasn't ever been here before so I thought I'd take her to Monty's. What'd'ya think?

Monty's sounds good to me.

George and I been coming here for years, ever since we was kids, y'know.

Mildred/Susan bent forward to look at him. Danny tells me the two of you grew up together. I'd like to hear some stories about his younger days. I imagine he was a real hellraiser.

Eddie laughed. You won't hear any of that from me. Truer words were never spoken. He had no clue who Danny was… or George for that matter. Hopefully the truth would not be revealed until after the meal.

Naw, my hellraising days started after school… hunh! Even after the Navy, if you must know. He laughed. The craziest stunt Georgie and I ever got in was sneaking into the scrapyard. You remember that night, don't you, George?

How could I ever forget?

Danny laughed so hard he coughed. Mildred/Susan pounded him on the back. Thanks, hon. That was a crazy night, huh, Georgie? When that dog came after us and we got caught up in the pile of loose metal car parts… He had another laughing/coughing fit. She pounded him on the back again. Danny had to stop and wipe his eyes. We were falling all over that stuff and the sound must've woke half the neighborhood. He took a deep breath, then stood up straight. Well, what'd'ya know, we're here.

Eddie took the door and let the other two enter before he followed. At least they don't seem too busy, he said as they passed through the vestibule.

Not like the old days, Danny said. Old Monty'd have a line half around the block. I just hope the place hasn't lost the menu.

They were shown to a table near the center of the dining room.

Eddie picked up his menu and scanned the page. It all sounded good but he wondered if it would be too rude to ask what they could get out fastest. His stomach was in a constant state of complaint.

Don't worry about the prices, kiddo, it's all on me. Danny grinned. Haven't seen you in so long, order everything if you want. I expect we'll be chatting for some time.

They ordered. Eddie ordered a couple of different appetizers that might get to the table before he died of starvation. He just hoped he did not look too desperate.

So, Danny, what have you been up to lately?

Same ol', same ol', pal. Nothing much new in the car business, y'know. He grinned and patted the woman's hand. But this light in my life is new. I was lost until I found her. They stared deep into each other's eyes.

She turned to Eddie. And are you married, George?

I… Danny cut him off.

Nah, not Georgie, here. He's the lifelong bachelor.

Haven't found the right girl yet?

Eddie shook his head. Play along, he told himself. I can almost taste the food.

Maybe someday, ol' buddy. I thought I was too until I found Mildred. They stared into each other's eyes again.

Eddie felt a little embarrassed to be watching them in such a private moment and turned to look around the restaurant. The wooden walls were one notch of luster past their prime. The brass of the light fixtures had passed a little too long without a polishing. But the customers seemed to be enjoying the food.

His mouth began to water feverishly while watching the eating going on. He had to force his eyes away from the spaghetti dinner at the next table.

If this was a dream, couldn't he just reach over and take the plate? But what if this was no dream? He heard the kitchen door swing open and turned to watch the waiter heading their direction.

At last! he thought.

The cheese sticks and fried mushrooms were the most delicious things he had ever eaten. Bar none. And though he had offered some to the other two, he ate the lion's share. At least he had the restraint not to shovel it into his mouth.

At least, he hoped not.

So, tell me George, how's the publishing going? Got any bestsellers in the works?

Oh, Mildred/Susan leaned forward, you're a writer? What have you written?

Eddie almost choked on the last cheese stick. A writer? He took a sip of water to prevent the choking. Oh, not much, really. Come on, Danny, he thought, help me out here.

Oh, he's 'way too modest, hon. He's the author of Scenes of War. He reached over and tapped Eddie's arm with the back of his hand. Hey, I heard they were gonna make it into a movie? What's up with that, huh?

Nah, it fell through, Eddie said. Maybe somebody else will pick up the option. He shrugged. You never know.

I loved that book! Mildred/Susan leaned forward, her eyes widening. Eddie felt himself being drawn into the dark brown, exotic pools, so much so that he almost missed her words. When I first saw it I thought 'I'm not interesting in reading a war story', but then when I read it I was enthralled with the battle Jeff had with his sanity in trying to figure out what was real and what was his imagination.

Eddie nodded. Yes, I think it's a battle we all go through.