Stranger Than We Can Think

By Miik YS

A group of strong women cope with what life throws at them, relying only on their brains, their spirit, and one another. More than a story of people struggling through multiple disasters, it’s one of grappling with reality. Is there only one reality? You’d think. But we all interpret what’s really going on in our own way. Are some people deluded, or are they focusing on a single facet of reality because it’s so vast that no one can comprehend all of it? That drives the title, part of a quote by Heisenberg.
In quantum mechanics, one concept is that observing an event may impact it. The characters deal with that phenomenon, so the chapter titles are song titles showing how the songs’ imagery influenced the author’s vision in ways unrelated to the crux of the songs. These considerations heighten the depth of the story while melding events such as being stranded on a gondola over a gorge, trapped in a mountaintop resort devastated by an earthquake and avalanche, and even battling monsters and demons in addition to other survivors.
Oops, I broke the world. Enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miik YS
• Release date: May 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463224892

Miik YS

The story is important, not me. I craft stories that are enjoyable at a surface level. The works include other levels of imagery, symbolism, and meaning should the reader want to delve deeper into the stories.

Book preview

Chapter One

In the Air Tonight

I saw it with my own two eyes...

It's all been a pack of lies

--Phil Collins

A big-bellied man in a white chef uniform partially obscured by a green parka snuggled by the corner of a retaining wall off to the side of the departure point for a cable car. Squatting with his knees pulled to his chest to protect himself from the icy wind, he huddled lost in thought for some time tucked out of sight rather than on one of the benches or in the warm ticket office. Whooshing and loud flapping of wings yanked him out of his reverie.

A creature with a wingspan of four meters circled overhead. It alighted on the main cable for the cable car, clutching it with its talons and folding its leathery black wings onto the back of its red body. No bird was this, with arms and hands independent of its wings, and a long tongue snaking from its snout. With a physique at least two meters high on the wire and rocking as it balanced in the wind, it hissed. A much smaller version of the creature landed on the cable beside it. While the miniature version squeaked, the large version uttered a long guttural cross between a growl and a belch.

Lightning fast, it snagged the smaller creature with its tongue, pulling it close enough to grasp in its hands. With the talon from one foot, it slit open its prey's belly and slurped out the guts. It gnawed the muscles, crunching the bones attached to them as if mere nuts. Little remained by the time it finished save for the hollowed out skin.

Ha, you're one nasty bitch, you know that? The chef remained seated.

The monster burped, with some of its stomach juices spilling from its maw onto the ground below where the small puddle sizzled and smoked. With a flick of its arm, it hurled the remnants of the carcass into the trees while it unfurled its wings and glided over to the man. I don't think you're in any position to insult me, Mr. Kwaad.

You don't scare me. I know what you really are.

Do you? It folded its wings, pacing before Mr. Kwaad. I don't think you fully appreciate your reality... the situation you face.

Mr. Kwaad's voice quivered. What do you know?

Its tongue darted in and out of its gob like a snake's. I know you're talking to me.

Get out of here, you ugly bitch. You can't hurt me.

It hissed. Really? Then why don't I give you a little gift?

What are you talking about?

It snared Mr. Kwaad's left wrist with its tongue. Pulling his hand closer, it dragged a talon lengthwise along the back of Mr. Kwaad's hand, slicing deeply into it and displaying the tendons. As it released his wrist, it lapped the blood oozing from the gash. Mm, I'm going to have fun playing with you later.

Mr. Kwaad yanked his hand away. I'm not afraid of you.

No? It flicked its tongue. I think you huddled out of sight here in the corner instead of on any of the benches over there to hide from me. Why else did you wait for me to feed before saying anything? If I'd seen you hiding here all scrunched up, I'd have fed on you instead of the meal I just had.

He pressed his other hand on his wound to staunch the bleeding. No, this can't be.

Face reality. I'm not finished with you. You'll be seeing me soon. It doesn't matter whether you stay down here, or go up there. It pointed up the mountain. We have unfinished business. It positioned its hands as if warming them at a fire. Yes, your fear warms me. You know I'm right. I'll come for you if one of the other nasties doesn't get you first. It sprang into the air, its powerful wings flapping hard enough to produce a breeze as it circled then darted into the mists hanging above the trees.

Mr. Kwaad focused on his wound. No, no, no. This can't be real. In the restroom at the side of the building housing the ticket office, he washed his cut and continually applied pressure with a wad of paper towels until they filled with blood. Finally the bleeding slowed, so he folded a stack of paper towels to apply pressure as he took his seat again outside by the wall.

A balding man with a comb-over and an impeccable three-piece suit under his overcoat approached the ticket office but altered course on spotting Mr. Kwaad. He proffered his hand. Mr. Kwaad, I wasn't expecting you so soon.

Mr. Kwaad struggled to his feet. I know, Mr. Fugir. I'll catch a later trip up. He glanced in various directions. Have you noticed anything?

Mr. Fugir checked for anyone within earshot. No, nothing. Are you sure--

Oh, yes, I'm very sure. He secreted his gashed hand behind his back with his rump holding the paper towels on his wound.

You mean you've seen something?

He scratched at his bushy hair under his wool cap. I have indeed.

Oh. Mr. Fugir struggled to hush his voice amid his excitement. He giggled and rubbed his hands together. What did you... oh, no, don't tell me. I want it to be a surprise. But if you already did, why didn't I?

It's probably because of the amount.

A truck pulling into the parking lot drew Mr. Fugir's attention. Oh, that's the delivery. I have to go.

Yeah, sure. Here. Mr. Kwaad handed Mr. Fugir a liter-sized bottle. Leave that in the tunnels for me.

Mr. Fugir stuffed the bottle in his coat pocket. So much this time? Is this a year's supply?

Ha. See you up there. Mr. Kwaad waddled off.

Mr. Fugir popped his head into the ticket office. Barney, are you in here?

Barney's acne spotted face peeked from behind a postcard rack. Yes, Mr. Fugir. He dumped the postcards destined for the rack onto the ticket counter.

Unlock the gate, please. We have a delivery to go up.

Right away, sir. Barney donned his uniform jacket and hat but still shuddered in the chilly breeze without a coat while he trailed Mr. Fugir outside. He unlocked the gate between the parking area and the platform, shoving the gate wide open to accommodate the team of people with arms full. The ticket agent slid aside the cable car door and bobbed his head to peek into the boxes and crates as the people from the truck loaded them into the cable car over the next twenty minutes.

One of the delivery people approached, studying a clipboard. That's the last of it. The car is really packed. How are you going to unload it up there? The man passed the clipboard to Mr. Fugir.

Are you new?

Yeah, why?

We have workers up at the resort. There just isn't enough room for them in there along with the delivery. Mr. Fugir signed and handed back the clipboard.

You can say that again.

Tell your boss thanks for the help. I'll be back next week.

The delivery person waved and piled into the truck with his coworkers.

Barney, I'm ready to depart. Mr. Fugir squeezed his body onto the cable car among the crates, boxes, and sacks.

Barney secured the cabin door and then locked the gate. From the motor house, he engaged the mechanism, consigning the cable car to the mountain.

Chapter Two

Deep Summer's Sleep

The leaves begin to scatter

as the North wind calls their name

--Dave Cousins

(The Strawbs)

A child's mangled body sprawled amid crumpled metal and jagged plastic shards. Smoke wafted over him. Coughs of a black haired woman channeled the smoke into swirls. A spray of blood from her lips speckled the child's ghostly white face. She mouthed some words, but no sounds emerged from her blood stained lips. The boy and woman dissolved only too slowly.

Nudges from the two women behind her plucked Moni back from her vision. She stepped into the ticket office and held the door while apologizing to them. Motioning for the women to proceed ahead of her, she jiggled her head while tilting it back so her shoulder-length blond hair and bangs cascaded back into place. She shook off the cold while waiting for the ticket office to empty out. Moni approached the ticket window with her suitcase in hand. One please.

One way or round trip? The man behind the window paused.

Moni cocked her head as she relaxed the grip on her suitcase, dropping it at her feet. Her mouth gaped, but she uttered no words.

He broke into a grin. Just kidding. I use it as a conversation starter. It gets boring behind the window all day with hardly any customers.

She squinted at his name tag. Well, Barney, you threw me for a loop. I was trying to think of what would happen if I only bought a one way trip; how would I get back?

So to the Menyusup Resort, huh?

Does the cable car stop anywhere else?

No. He grinned and lowered his head. There's skiing on the mountain, on the other side, but not way up a couple hundred meters from the peak where the resort is. He rang up the ticket.

How long does the cable car take to get to the resort?

Uh, almost a half hour.

She inserted her card to pay. It must be way up there.

Yeah, it's a couple thousand meters up. The winds are always stiff, so no helicopter can fly up there if ever there's a medical emergency. The cable car is the only way.

She clutched her receipt. Good to know.

Hey, they're predicting a storm. You're going to freeze wearing that both because your jacket's too thin, and also because you have no fat to insulate you, if you don't mind my saying so.

Moni stifled a grin. Thanks, Barney, but, you know, I don't plan on being outside much. The Menyusup Resort has heat, doesn't it? She checked behind her to confirm no one else lingered in line for a ticket.

Yeah, sure. It's really nice... I hear. I've never been.

You must live around here if you work here, and you've never been up there? Why not?

The Menyusup Resort is super exclusive. One meal there probably costs a month's pay. Hey, I don't mean this as an insult, just the opposite, but you don't seem like the stinking rich types who usually go up there.

Moni grinned. I guess I'm not. I wanted to see the world from up there once before... well, this is my one and only chance, so I'm taking it.

Good for you. Did you pick this time of year on purpose?

What do you mean?

Oh, I just thought because, you know, tomorrow is Halloween. He shuffled from one foot to another. Halloween doesn't land on a Saturday very often... I don't think.

She raised her eyebrows and jutted her head forward.

You see, some people say the resort is haunted. Don't freak out. It's probably just marketing hype. If you ask me, the winds up there would probably blow away the ghosts.

Well, thanks, Barney. I should get going. When does the next cable car depart?

There's only the one; there isn't one at each end of the line. There used to be, but they got rid of one a long time ago... cost cutting measures they called it. Over the years--

When does it leave?

Oh, uh, in about five minutes from the platform out front. Don't worry; I won't let it leave without you. And thank you.

For what? She hoisted her suitcase.

The rich people almost never talk to me. They fork over the money and go on their way most times without ever uttering a single word. This conversation with you is the longest one I've had at work so far this year. I really appreciate it. Enjoy your trip up to oblivion.

Moni raised her collar once outside as some leaves skittered along the walkway in front of her. She stuffed her gloved hands in her jacket pockets, daydreaming about the leaves dancing and swirling in the wind almost like tiny flitting creatures with minds of their own.

A rotund balding man with his comb-over waving in the wind like a tattered flag, pressed against the platform gate. Others lined up behind him. Moni joined the end of the line. Just ahead of her, an attractive mother with long black hair swept into a loose ponytail smiled and nodded at her. Her teen daughter, also with straight black hair but snipped shoulder-length with bangs, just like Moni's hairstyle, greeted her with the same smile and nod. Moni returned the nod and smile. Everyone else in line faced straight ahead.

The cable car arrived, so Barney opened the gate and cable car door. The cabin sported five benches with one aisle running along the side with the door. Three people filled each bench except for the second to the last, which the heavy man alone filled. Mr. Kwaad plus the woman with her teen daughter occupied the back bench which stretched the full width of the cabin since it ended the aisle. Barney slipped up behind Moni and gently hefted her suitcase from her hand. He piled it with the other luggage and shopping bags in the front of the cabin. The mother waved to Moni and patted the bench. Moni obliged her as the car rose.

The ground dropped away, the rugged terrain contrasting with the smooth ascent. With only a small section of metal and plastic wall up to shin level and minimal framing connecting the floor to the roof, windows comprised the majority of the cabin. Moni plastered her face to a window. You can actually see the wind stirring everything in its way as it sweeps along the contours of the land.

The mother nodded. Yeah, it's really something.

The daughter grinned. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to be awed beyond belief. Just pray the cable car doesn't self-destruct in ten seconds.

Oh, uh, yeah, okay. Do you come to the Menyusup Resort often?

I work there. I'm Pipii... Pipii Burlone. This is my daughter, May. You'll have to excuse her. She watches too much television.

May waved. Mission Impossible... everybody recognizes that.

Moni shook their hands. Nice to meet you. I'm Moni... Moni Fomai.

As in the song, 'Mony, Mony'? Are you famous? May refused to release Moni's hand.

Not hardly. That song was a hit long before you were born. How do you even know it?

May still shook Moni's hand. Nothing goes away on the internet. There's a treasure trove of great music as well as old TV shows and movies. My mother's wrong. I don't watch TV. I see and hear everything this world has to offer on the internet.

Do you have any children, Moni? Pipii prodded her daughter to release Moni's hand.

Uh, a young son, Sam.

Stop that. Pipii shoved her daughter's hand back into the teen's lap. Are you seeking work up there, Moni?

Moni chuckled. Pipii, are you trying to tell me I don't look and act like a typical guest?

Pipii offered a weak smile.

Don't worry about it. Barney, in the ticket office, said the same thing to me.

Pipii shook her head. Barney's a nice guy, but he'll chew your ear off if you let him.

It's a compliment anyway. May hummed then voiced the lyrics. Ooh, I love you, Mony, Mo, Mo, Mony.

The portly man in the seat in front of them struggled to twist back to face them with a scowl.

Something I can do for you, slim? May leaned forward so her face hovered too close to the man's.

He faced front.

I am a guest... for a couple days. Moni spoke in a quieter voice.

Maybe you don't want to be seen talking to us. Pipii nudged her daughter back. I'm part of the housekeeping staff. My daughter is staying with me.

Moni waved away Pipii's words. If you don't mind being seen with me, I sure as hell don't mind being seen with you two.

May held out her fist for Moni to bump. They may look down their noses at you, Mom, but tell Moni how often guys proposition you to go back to their rooms.

The wide man squirmed again to frown at them.

What is it, little man? You don't approve of us? May wagged her finger at him.

Your superior will hear of your conduct. He faced front again.

I don't have a superior, sonny boy, because I don't work up there. What do you think we're in? Some Bing Crosby movie where you'll report me to mother superior?

Pipii squeezed May's arm.

Moni resumed her post at the window. Grasslands mixed with steeper slopes while the forests all but vanished as the ride progressed. Gaining altitude, the dusting of snow transformed into a patchwork and then a solid blanket.

Pipii pointed at Mr. Kwaad's left hand. Mr. Kwaad, what did you do to your hand?

He lifted off the paper towels. You mean you see this?

Oh, my. How did you do that? It's so deep. You might need stitches.

He covered his gash again. Oh, no, no, no. He turned his face away from them, gazing out his side of the cabin.

Later, Moni clutched the seat while leaning back from the window as the cable car passed over a gorge. Whoa, that's a long way down.

May's eyes widened. That's nothing. There's another coming up just before our destination that puts this one to shame.

Oh, great. I was so hoping for a bigger one. Moni closed her eyes and rested her head against the back window a few moments.

Look. May jostled Moni's arm. You have to see it once. This is the big gorge. I call it St. Gorge. Get it? Like St. George? It's more than a thousand meters deep.

Moni's head turned and her eyes fixed onto the abyss outside. She twisted her head a few times, but her eyes remained locked on the emptiness, so her head always snapped back to the window as if connected to it by a rubber band.

Pipii cupped Moni's jaw and faced her forward while swiping her other hand over Moni's face as if closing a dead person's eyes. Focus on that mountainside right in front of us. That's our destination. The cable car goes right into that tunnel up ahead. We disembark in the tunnel, so you don't have to worry about the heights. We'll be there in a minute or two.

Moni sucked in slow, deep breaths. She loosened her grip on the seat, rubbing her white knuckles until the cable car lurched and bucked.

Chapter Three

Pretty Ballerina

Somewhere a mountain is moving

Afraid it's moving without me.

--Michael Brown

(The Left Banke)

The cable car bucked a few times; everyone gasped. The cabin vibrated and rumbled as it slowed to a standstill about fifteen meters from the tunnel entrance. The light in the ceiling flickered and died while the fan for the air circulator and heater spun down to a halt. As the cable suspending them rippled, it generated a whining noise outside the cabin. The car bounced and teetered along with the cable it rested on.

The shrieking people inside tumbled from one side to the other as the cabin swung from side to side. With each swing increasing in intensity, people smacked into the side windows and one another with ever more ferocity. The portly man bashed into the aisle window just ahead of Moni hard enough to crack it. His return trip to the other side of his bench ended with his head shattering the window on that side.

Moni flopped onto the floor in front of her bench. Pipii and May copied her, although Mr. Kwaad clamped his hands on the bench seat. Moni braced her feet on the lower part of the wall comprised of metal and plastic rather than window like the rest of the wall. She clutched the legs of the bench seat but released one hand to point at her feet. May, brace your feet like this below the window there on your side. Then grab the seat leg.

May duplicated Moni's position once the cabin swung back. With one arm wrapped around the bench leg each, they both locked their other arms with Pipii, so all three formed an interlocking chain with nowhere to roll. They swung with the cabin, but they no longer faced the possibility of crashing through a window, unlike the others.

The swaying of the cable car intensified further. It combined with bouncing as if the cabin bounded on a trampoline. Every few seconds, their stomachs hovered up in the air while the rest of their bodies hurtled down until the cable flung them back up. As sickening as each precipitous drop and following rebound back up was, it beat the prospect of no bounce back since that would signal the cabin's final plunge down into the gorge.

Moni raised her head. Mr. Kwaad's body flopped around on the back bench, but his hands never released the seat. The forehead of the hefty man in the next seat bled where the cracked window sliced it. An older woman's limp body in the seat ahead of him flopped around like a rag doll until her legs hooked on the bench legs. Someone's handbag bounced near to Moni's face, so she whacked it aside. It rose again with the next bounce. The portly man crashed into it just before striking the window again; it acted as a buffer. Moni lowered her head.

The guests in the cable car endured the swinging and bouncing just over a minute. Once the rumbling and shaking ceased, the swinging continued, though gradually lessening. People scrambled to their feet to assess their situation despite the still pitching cabin.

What the hell happened? May hiked up her coat and sweater to caress the bruise on her ribs. I don't want to be in a disaster movie. I want to be in a flick about a bored teenager.

Moni checked her body for injuries. I've been in a few earthquakes in my days, and that felt like one. I've never spent one dangling from a cable like this, but the shaking and swaying, I'm pretty sure that's what happened.

I don't think it was an earthquake. Mr. Kwaad, agog, pointed out a cracked window beside him. I think it was that monster flying around out there... playing peek-a-boo in the clouds. It was jumping up and down on the roof before. It plucked at the cable like a giant guitar string. Now it's just flying around... laughing at us. I don't understand.

The others gawked at him, or at one another, or out the windows at the puffy clouds near them.

Moni approached the unconscious woman on the floor in the row ahead of the heavy man. Check on the people around you. She pressed her fingers on the woman's juggler before slapping her cheeks. Lady, lady, are you okay? Come on. Wake up.

The woman stirred. My name isn't lady; it's Ms. Tertipu. Although her wiry frame and disheveled gray hair hinted at a frail woman, her vice-like grip of Moni's wrist betrayed her strength.

Whatever it is, get up. Come on. Moni rose and offered her hand to the woman. You're lucky your feet got tangled in the bench legs, or you might've become a human ping-pong ball.

Luck had nothing to do with it, deary. The Lord saw me through.

Yeah, sure. Moni returned to the rear seat beside Pipii and May. Is anyone hurt badly? We--

No one died and made you boss. A stiff woman placed her arm around Ms. Tertipu, to whom she spoke in a gentle tone. You should sit down. You took a nasty blow to the head. She dabbed with her handkerchief at the blood trickling down the side of the older woman's head.

Thank you, Ms. Kudzora. I'm feeling better now. Ms. Tertipu fumbled with her phone. I don't have a signal, do you?

With her hard, poofy, dyed black hair exhibiting not a single strand out of place, Ms. Kudzora fished her phone from her