Darren Johnson's Best Short Stories of 2020: Darren Johnson's Best Short Stories, #3

By Darren Johnson

Time-traveling assassin couples. Death-thwarting biology speakers. Intragalactic Oblivanda competitions.
14 separate tales plus one immense crossover bringing them together because why not:
THANK YOU FOR THE STORY: Cleaning up errant timelines is hard work. Sometimes, you just need to talk about your day with your significant other/archnemesis.
FUTURE SERVANT: The future calls, desperately needing help. Elderly Vivian Allbretter answers.
PLANNEDEMIC: How the pandemic "actually" happened. Think it's fake news? No. It's worse.
THE REPRESENTATIVE EARTHLING ATHLETE: Chad Finworthy has been chosen to represent Earth in the cerebral sport of Oblivanda and save the galaxy. Now he just needs to score some goddamn points.
THE FREQUENTLY DEPARTED: Mikal "Mike" Lund demonstrates his unique talent to a college biology class.
THE SUPPORTERS: They support their cult leader no matter what.
AGE IS MORE THAN A NUMBER: If you or a loved one suffers from time dilation, well, maybe don't orbit so close to a supermassive black hole next time.
NPC PROTESTATIONS: When you and your army keep losing to the same guy, something ain't right.
HOW TO THINK REPUBLICAN: Joining a cult requires more than just pure brainlessness, you know.
DOCTORS DON'T KNOW ANYTHING: God is never wrong. Doctors are ONLY ever wrong. Wait, that can't be right...
THE FOUND CHAPTERS: The best chapters appear to be missing from an amazing story. These are the rest.
TRAINING'S END: Kidnapped and trained by the future, he's back to save the present. The biggest challenge? His girlfriend.
THE ABORTED ONE: He survived his own abortion, forced to wander the world as a fetus until saved by conservatives. That is, if you believe a single word of his story.
A CHRIST-MOOSE STEER-ACLE: A holiday romance story like any other, except better because there's TWO puns in the title!
THE GREATEST CROSSOVER OF ALL TIME 3: The bad guys from the stories above are screwing with the timelines and trying to invade Earth. It's up to the good guys to (1) realize this, (2) find one another, and (3) lay the smack down. Note: knowledge of the first two Greatest Crossovers is NOT required. Do you like crossovers? Who doesn't! Well, this is crossover-er than any of them!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darren Johnson
• Release date: Dec 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393652670

Book preview

Darren Johnson’s Best Short Stories of 2020

These are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © by Darren Johnson, 2020

All stories and artwork copyright © by Darren Johnson, 2020

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please refer all pertinent questions to the publisher.

Contents

FREE EBOOKS!

Thank You for the Story

Future Servant

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Plannedemic

The Representative Earthling Athlete

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Epilogue

The Frequently Departed

The Supporters

Age is More Than a Number

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

Epilogue

NPC Protestations

How to Think Republican

Voter Suppression

The Electoral College

Religion

Pro-Life

Guns

Education

Conservation

Vaccinations

Government Spending

The Media

Net Neutrality

Foreign Interference

Impeachment

Homosexuality

John McCain

Trump’s Apology

Conclusion

*Special Update: Covid-19*

About the Author

Doctors Don’t Know Anything

The Found Chapters

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 7

Chapter 13

Chapter 24

Postscript

Training’s End

The Aborted One

A Christ-moose Steer-acle

1 - The Heroine Returns Home

2 - The Knock is a Small Boy

3 - She’s Fine

4 - It Was Just a Video Game

5 - We Hate Her

6 - We Hate Him Even More

7 - It Won’t Happen

8 - What?!

9 - But What About— Oh, Here It Is

10 - Tiny but Safe Epilogue

The Greatest Crossover of All Time 3

Preamble

Recap

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Afterthoughts

Barely Related Epilogue/Preview

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Thank You for the Story

Summary: Their efforts cleaning up timelines has nearly ended...

Length: very short

Type: heartfelt, sci-fi

Warnings: violence, death

THANK YOU FOR THE STORY, it was nice, Eve Flinch Flinchette said as she sat on the floor with her back against the wall.

It’s all true, I swear, Leyton Stone said, standing several feet in front of her.

I know. I know it is. She glanced down at the gun in Stone’s hand, but only for a moment. Guess there’s only one more thing to do.

Flinch...

No, don’t, let’s just get this over with.

He raised the gun up, aiming at her forehead. He inched forward a couple of steps just to make sure he didn’t miss. For her. If there was any other way...

Don’t be a pussy about it. Just do it.

The situation was weirder for him than for her, it seemed. Killing someone he had been so close to, sort of. Yet it wasn’t murder, it was just business. They both knew that. It was the mission. They were both doing what had to be done. There wasn’t fear, either. There was no chance of getting in trouble; they were in a small abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. No one would ever know.

He pulled the trigger.

Flinch let out a tiny gasp as her head rolled back then off to the side, her expressionless face now frozen that way forever.

Stone looked at the gun, now useless, and tossed it off to the right.

He looked back at Flinch and sighed. With some effort, he picked her up, carried her several steps to his left, and laid her gently on the pile, trying not to make eye contact with any of the other corpses.

He stood there a moment, knowing that each passing second increased the likelihood that his mission, no, their mission, was truly over. He looked back at the door, the only way in or out, and it was still shut. He retrieved the gas canister next to it. It somehow felt heavier than Flinch had. Maybe it was psychological. The canister didn’t look like it should be that heavy and that threw him off. Or maybe it was just the relief of finally, amazingly being done with it all. He lugged it over to the pile, set it down, and popped open the lid.

Then he heard the door.

Flinch, he said.

Hey, Stone.

He straightened up and looked at her. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore a gray sweatshirt and jeans. The Flinch he’d just killed had her hair down and wore a white shirt and black pants.

He pointed toward the gas. I was just about to...

Flinch shook her head. It’s okay, I’ll get it.

Damn it, he said as he sat down where the other Flinch had breathed her last. I thought I was the end. You’re a little late. Each iteration comes about sixty-three seconds after the previous.

I know, and I’m really sorry, but there’s a good reason.

He looked up at her. You’re the end.

She nodded. HQ called to confirm, slowing me down a bit.

Well, that is good news.

She looked at the pile of bodies. So many Stones and Flinches.

And each one bringing us just that much closer to the original timeline, undoing all the damage.

I can’t believe it worked. We’ll be the last time travelers in history.

"You’ll be the last. He looked at her gun. Just the one bullet left?"

Yep.

Amazing how it always works out that way, isn’t it? He pointed at the Flinch he’d put on the pile. She chased another Stone all across time and space, I chased her all across different time and space, and you chased me. And every time, it came down to one bullet and sixty-three seconds — or so — and this room.

It really is.

Were we lovers?

She’d been avoiding eye contact for a while, but she looked at him then. She smiled. You know we were. We had some amazing times. Her eyes grew slightly wider as the idea came to her. Would you like me to tell you the whole story?

He nodded. That’d be nice.

Future Servant

Summary: The future calls, needing help. Vivian Allbretter answers.

Length: longish (7 chapters + prologue)

Type: drama, sci-fi

Warnings: tense situations

Prologue

H ey, Farren, you see these readings?

Farren looked at the display. Probably just background radiation.

No, look, Tony said, pointing. "They’re like gravity waves, only in a higher dimension. It’s like there were holes in the multiverse and now they’re being... fixed?!"

Not this again.

Look, we haven’t heard from any other colony in months. As far as we know, we’re the last ones. We’re almost out of food, water, and air.

And you think somebody from the past can help us?

Tony shrugged. What if? We have all the records from that time. I could just send a tiny voice sample, see if we get any bites.

Farren locked her eyes on his. Alright. What do you need?

A year.

Twenty-first century?

Perfect, Tony said. Not too late to effect change, but not too far back, either. How about... 2020? Lots of bad news, but also hope. They used cell phones back then. Maybe we could piggyback on the initial contact?

Pulling up records... Wow, they had so many robocalls back then. What were they thinking?

Yeah, governments were owned by big business.

Alright, Ton, here’s a list of numbers you can use.

Tony began typing. Great, running them through the algorithm. Let’s see if any are usable.

Look, you got one! Farren said, pointing at his monitor. What are you going to say?

He hacked away at his keyboard. I don’t know, but I’d better think of something. It’s dialing.

Chapter 1

She held her phone to one ear, but the voice played in both. Hello, Vivian Allbretter. My name is Tony and this is a very important phone call. My associate, Farren, and I are kind of in a tough spot and we need your help. You would be very well compensated, of course.

Is this a scam? My grandson warned me— She stopped talking because Tony hadn’t.

—unable to receive, only transmit, Tony said, leaving Vivian to wonder what she had missed. We hate to impose, but this really is an emergency.

At the other end, Farren was distracting Tony. Give her some proof, Farren said.

Tony covered his mouthpiece. What? What proof? No, it’s too soon.

Hearing silence, Vivian said, I’m sorry, I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.

Tony was about to speak again when Farren shouted at him to wait. What is it now?! he asked.

Look. She pointed at his monitor. She hung up.

Crap. When’s her next robocall?

Farren examined the phone records on her own monitor. A month away. Should we recalibrate?

Tony shrugged. I don’t think we should risk it. We’ve got her now. He and Farren stared at each other for a moment.

She nodded. No better time than the present past.

He nodded back. Okay, here goes. He turned back to his monitor and adjusted his mouthpiece. Vivian Allbretter, age seventy-three.

Vivian looked at her phone sitting on the kitchen counter and froze.

Born 1946 in Dover, Delaware as Vivian Schmaltof. Please don’t be alarmed and remember this conversation is one-way. I can’t hear you if you respond.

She picked up her phone and turned it on and off a few times.

We’re calling, so to speak, from the future. Things are bad here, Vivian, real bad. But what we have is technology. We have access to just about everything that’s ever been recorded. We know you received a robocall a few minutes ago, and like many robocalls, it didn’t work in that you would’ve heard silence. However, we were able to use that signal to transmit my voice across time to your location, specifically, you. It’s rather complicated, but we can attempt to explain it if you’d like. Actually, you can ask us anything you want. Hold on, Farren is finding us an email that was created and never used... Okay, you may want to write this down. HenrySpolding55 at yahoo dot com. The password is ‘password1’. He repeated the details before continuing. Any questions or comments, go into that email account and create a new draft. We will wait to hear from you. I wouldn’t mention this to anyone else, though. For one thing, you might look crazy, and for another, it might seriously impede your ability to help us. Thank you. Tony did his version of hanging up.

We only took a slight hit to our energy reserves, Farren said. We should be able to contact her as much as necessary. Which is good, since she hasn’t contacted us.

Any change to her timeline?

Nothing. We can’t even be sure she heard us, but if she did, she must’ve shrugged it off.

Vivian sat on her couch, clutching her phone and trying to understand what had just happened. Was she schizophrenic now? Was it the onset of dementia? She had always been of sound mind if not sound body, but now she was hearing things.

She took her pulse and counted eighty-seven beats per minute, a little higher than usual, but not that bad. Should she call someone? Tony, the name of the voice, warned her against it. Of course, that’s what scammers would do. But he sounded genuine. Unless it was a veiled threat and she was in trouble. She didn’t know what to do, but the whole thing was very unsettling. Maybe if she ignored it and pretended it never happened, it would all just go away.

One more thing, Tony said, making her jump. You have this thing called a lottery. There’s one happening later in your day. The first four numbers will be 45, 34, 7, and 12. You can play it and win some cash if you want, but we just wanted to give you some proof. We couldn’t give you more numbers because we couldn’t risk it becoming a whole big thing, you know, you getting your name in the paper or telling your family or whatever. But please, please check the results after. Once we start working together, you’ll have all the resources you need. It’s not an understatement to say lives depend on you, Vivian. Thank you.

Tony turned to Farren. She looked back but then a flash on his monitor caught her eye. What is it? she asked.

He turned back and typed in some commands. His mouth opened wide. Someone just accessed Henry Spolding’s email account.

Chapter 2

Subject: unsubscribe me!

To Tony/Faren:

I don’t understand what service you’re selling but I DO NOT WANT it. Please, I’m a 73-year-old woman who doesn’t appreciate your tricks. My grandson warned me that were spammers and hackers out there who would try to take advantage, but I didn’t know you could be so agressive. Your not getting any money from me so I’m asking you politely to leave me alone and take me off your list. Thank you.

-Vivian

FARREN LOOKED OVER Tony’s shoulder as they stared at the draft in Henry’s email. Well, that could’ve gone better, she said.

Yup.

A lot of typos.

Yeah, people were pretty lax in their correspondence back then.

Maybe she’s rattled? Farren asked. I mean, she used ‘you’re’ correctly in the first sentence, but then used ‘your’ incorrectly there. She pointed to the error.

I don’t see how a healthy, middle-aged woman could be rattled so easily, but why don’t you run it through the psych profiler?

Farren returned to her desk and did as Tony suggested while he ran some queries. Didn’t get any results, she said after. Not enough data.

Hold on, try running it again based on her time, 2020. Also, look at this. He sent her a screen capture.

Whoa, she’s not middle-aged. She’s old. Elderly. She looked over at Tony. They had the technology and medicine, why were their life expectancies still so low?

Tony shrugged. The data says her country’s obesity rate peaked around then. People knew about fitness, but even more people chose not to care. She probably even ate meat!

Ew! Farren turned back to her analysis. Okay, there’s still not enough data, but her discomfort levels are definitely higher now. In fact, they’re in the yellow.

Tony got up and looked at her monitor. You were right, Fare, she’s rattled.

Farren brought up Vivian’s profile. We’ve got a scared, elderly, out-of-shape widow with trust issues who doesn’t believe us. Should we find somebody else?

They stared at each other for a moment, then Tony shook his head. No. No, we’ve got a connection, strained as it is. Even if we could get someone else, they might react the same way or worse. He tapped the back of his right hand into his left palm. Let’s coddle this septuagenarian, get her some more proof, and bring her around.

Farren smirked as she typed in some commands. Alright. But maybe we should take it further than lottery numbers. Like this.

Tony walked over and looked at her query for Vivian’s timeline cross-referenced with local incidents. Ooh, he said, his eyebrows raising.

She pointed at her screen. We can link these together, really make an impact. She looked up at Tony. Want to send another recording?

No, Tony smiled. "You do it."

Vivian parked her car at the post office. She got out, took a few steps, and then jumped when she heard the voice.

Hi, Vivian, this is Farren. I’m so sorry to bother you again, but we really do need your help. Do you see the red sedan up ahead on your left? In a few minutes, a jeep is going to park next to it. Then in about ten minutes, the sedan is going to pull out but hit the jeep, scratching its right bumper.

Vivian glanced at the car as she passed.

We’re watching very old footage of this taken from a security cam across the street. This is how we know. Unfortunately, the footage is too grainy to get the license plate of the sedan, and they get away with a hit-and-run. If you’d like, you can jot down the plate number and leave it for the jeep owner, though we’d suggest doing so anonymously. We don’t want you drawing attention to yourself.

Vivian entered the building where, thankfully, the voice stopped. She conducted her business, stepped out the door, and heard the voice again.

Actually, Vivian, sorry to do this to you, but Tony and I discussed it, and we feel it’s better to not get involved at all this time. Since you are being recorded, any action you take might look suspicious if not done just right. Please understand, we’re all new at this.

Vivian walked by the sedan and averted her eyes from the jeep parked next to it.

However, there is another action we would like you to take. Have you ever saved a life?

Vivian got a sudden chill and shook it off. She got back in her car and waited until the voice stopped. She didn’t want to be distracted by the so-called people from the future while she drove.

On your way home, you pass that arcade place next to the Thai restaurant. Our files say you’ve been in there before, so you know the one. A little after 2:38, someone is going to drop their cup full of ice. That’ll be your cue. Just as that happens, a little boy named Jack is going to choke on a piece of candy or something. I’m not sure what, we have conflicting information. Now, I’m going to be completely honest with you. He lives anyway. The incident barely affects him. That said, it takes a few moments for the adults to even notice him and then more time passes as they panic before jumping in. While we never want you to get noticed, this is a rare case where getting recognized might be fine. If you choose to act, just walk up to Jack, give him five hard slaps on the back followed by five abdominal thrusts and repeat until his airway is clear, though a couple back slaps should be enough. Oh, Tony said the abdominal thrusts were called the Heimlich Maneuver for a while. We’ll warn you again right before.

Farren sent the recording then received a notification. Is that what I think it is? she asked.

Holy crap. The file changed. There’s a new video.

Farren wasted no time playing it. She synced it to the original and had them skip ahead to the next set of differences after Vivian had returned to her car. What’s she doing? She’s just sitting there.

Tony groaned. She’s waiting to see what happens. Fast forward.

Farren zipped through the next two minutes. The videos appeared identical as the sedan again scraped the jeep. But then there was a difference. In the newer video, Vivian got out of her car, approached the jeep, looked briefly at the damage, and then left a note under the jeep’s left wiper. She then returned to her car and left.

Farren shrugged. That looked okay. She switched windows. No big updates to the continuum.

I guess we’re good, Tony said, going back to his own computer to check things. Yeah, the jeep owner wound up not doing anything about it.

Too bad though. Vivian won’t make it to the arcade in time. She only has two minutes and still has a couple traffic lights to get through.

Hold on, I just picked up a change. It’s her. He looked up at Farren. The first light was yellow, but she just sped through.

Vivian rushed through the second light, pulled into the lot, and parked. She took a few deep breaths to try to calm herself, then turned off the engine and got out.

She walked inside the arcade and froze. There were children running around everywhere, and nearly all of them seemed to be screaming. The sound of little ones never bothered her before, but between them and the noise coming from the arcade machines, she started to feel like a poorly trained soldier walking onto a live battlefield for the first time. If her Ernest was still alive, they could compare notes.

She stepped farther inside, scanning the room. None of the kids appeared to be choking that she could tell. She didn’t know what to do and she really didn’t want to be there anymore. She wasn’t really needed anyway. Farren said the child lived, didn’t she?

A young adult caught her eye. She was pushing a mop bucket. The spilled ice, Vivian thought.

Jack’s starting to choke now, Vivian, Farren said, again startling her. He’s the one with medium-length, dirty-blond hair. Ninety percent of the children there had dirty-blond hair! Couldn’t they have told her what he was wearing? He’s by the ball machine. What furshlugginer machine didn’t have balls in it?!

She hustled through the room until she spied the claw machine with many brightly colored balls inside. Off to the side was a young boy with dirty-blond hair. And unlike almost every other child in the place, he was standing perfectly still.

Are you okay? she asked without thinking, her reflexes kicking in. She ran the short distance between them. Hey, are you choking?

She grabbed him and bent him forward. Hey, this boy’s choking! she yelled while she slapped Jack’s back.

She grabbed his shoulders and spun him part way around to check on him. A couple back slaps should be enough, Farren had said.

If that was true, then why is Jack still choking?!

Chapter 3

Vivian spun Jack around and started abdominal thrusts. She hated that Farren had been wrong, but then a chilling thought came to her: what if Farren had been right, but her back slaps weren’t the ones meant to save the boy? Was she actually in the process of killing this kid?

She checked again and saw his face was turning blue.

She braced him with her left hand, reared back with her right, and wailed on his upper back. Once. Twice. Then a cough.

She double-checked to make sure, but Jack was getting air into his lungs and oxygen to his brain again.

Before she could catch her own breath and encourage Jack to breathe, he was yanked from her by Beth, the boy’s mother.

Why are you hitting my son?! Beth asked.

Was she serious? He was choking. Vivian looked down at Jack, who was still breathing heavily as he clung to his mom’s leg. He was crying. No help there, apparently.

You stay right there, Beth said, pulling out her phone. I’m calling the police.

You didn’t see him?! Vivian asked. Jack was choking. He was turning blue.

Beth glared at her. How do you know his name?!

Run, Vivian. She looked toward the exit, but Jack’s mom noticed and stepped in her way.

Uh uh. Don’t you dare try to leave.

Where the hell was Farren? Wait. If they didn’t contact me, then it must’ve worked out. Even if I could run, that must not be the answer.

Did you get it all out, Jack? A little girl around nine checked on the boy. It caught the attention of both the women and perhaps some of the crowd who had gathered around but were keeping their distance.

Get what out, Susie? Beth asked.

Jack was choking. This woman saved him. As Beth’s jaw fell, Susie walked over and picked up the candy and then returned. See? Here you go, Jack.

No! Don’t give it back to him. He might choke again plus it was on the floor. Throw it away and then wipe off your hands, please. Beth turned to Vivian and put her phone away. I am sooooo sorry.

It’s okay. I’m a mother and a grandma. I know how it is.

Tears formed in Beth’s eyes. I thought you were... and Jack could’ve died... and you...

I know, I know, Vivian said. She gave Beth a hug. The onlookers clapped then went about their business.

The women let go and Beth rubbed her eyes. Does it get any easier?

Vivian nodded then paused. No. It’s going to keep getting harder, but then one day he’ll move out, which will itself be very difficult. You’ll still worry, but then it will be easier, because he’ll keep his mistakes secret from you.

Oh. Well, thank you so much and again I’m so very sorry, Mrs...?

Vivian’s fine, she answered, smiling. You’re welcome.

Beth. Beth looked around. Is your family here?

No, they left ahead of me. I was following them out when I saw Jack in trouble. But I’m leaving now. Beth thanked her a few more times and then they parted ways. They were both shaken by the experience but Vivian hid her feelings while Beth made no attempt to hide hers.

Incoming email, one hour after the event, Farren said. Wow, it’s a doozy.

A what?!

A doozy. Big, troublesome, extraordinary. I’ve been going over terminology from the time, thinking it might help us communicate with her better.

Oh, right on. What’d she say? Tony wheeled his chair over.

Blah blah she didn’t ask for this, she doesn’t want it, she can’t handle it, can we find someone else, and so on.

Tony wheeled back to his station and checked the updates. I don’t understand, it went fine. She saved the boy, and, aside from giving her real name, seems to have handled the situation.

As far as we know.

Right, the only news is still just a brief mention, but this time the mom specifically thanks her. He pulled up the email Vivian had sent and read it. "Well, should we cut her loose? I mean, we could try to find someone else—"

Farren was already making another recording. "Vivian, I’m sorry you’re having a rough time with all this. However, you saved that boy’s life.