A break in the deal

With my recent computer problems, limited writing time, and a new-found desire to finish a book I’m working on, I’m suspending the 52 Cards project.  I plan on finishing it eventually, and to that end I’ll list the remaining cards, as they appeared in the shuffled deck back in January (I haven’t looked ahead until tonight).  Some of them might get skipped to if I feel like writing something off my regularly scheduled beaten path.

Remaining cards:

Six of Hearts (I know that it was last week’s, but I don’t want to let it go)

King of Spades (this week’s)

King of Diamonds

Seven of Clubs

King of Hearts

Three of Spades

Six of Spades (part 2 of Inside-Outside Straight)

Eight of Diamonds

Eight of Spades (part 3 of Inside-Outside Straight)

Five of Clubs

Ten of Diamonds

Ten of Hearts

Seven of Hearts

Two of Spades (part 3 of  Two-Island Lake)

Two of Clubs (part 4 of Two-Island Lake)

Nine of Diamonds

Queen of Diamonds

Eight of Hearts

Nine of Spades (part 4 of Inside-Outside Straight)

Ten of Spades (conclusion of Inside-Outside Straight)

Queen of Hearts

Four of Hearts

I’m going to go ahead and admit something right now: I have nothing.

When I first conceived this idea back in December, I knew there would be weeks where I would struggle for something to write about.  I didn’t know what card would be the one that finally ended my run, but I didn’t have the four of hearts on the list.  I spent a good chunk of my idea time trying to think of something to write involving the four of clubs (or just a card) that I could do in 500 – 1000 words, but no luck.  I’m reduced to using the card to talk about how I couldn’t think of what to write about.

Lame, I know.

The temptation to call it a day with this blog is there.  I can’t deny the siren song of the easy way out.  I don’t have many readers, and I know some of the stuff I’ve written isn’t my best.  I do have some unfinished business, like the last of my “aces” series about our cats.  I still have four parts of “inside/outside” straight, featuring Derek Winters.  I also need to finish “Two Island Lake”, which I hope to turn into a much larger work in the future.  There are a few other cards I have ideas for, but the four of hearts was not one of them.

One of the other reasons to shut it down here is that it takes away time from the book I’m working on.  Chapter three is only halfway done, but that isn’t a bad thing.  The ending is still a work in progress, even with the rest of the book plotted out in my head.

Another thing I’d like to do is Cliffhanger Theater II.  For those just finding their way here, or for anyone who didn’t read it (and there were many people who didn’t read it), Cliffhanger Theater was a blog story I wrote a minimum of 500 words (on average) for each day over the course of a year.  It taught me a lot about pacing, characters, and how important it is to work on my writing.

So, again, I am sorry for totally copping out on the four of hearts.  The card deserved more, and I let it down.  Tune in next week for something (hopefully) more interesting.

Four of Spades

[continued from Six of Clubs]

Scooter didn’t open his eyes.  His mind was playing a loop of fast-forwarded images of Evan jumping out of the car, the tornado collapsing in his rear view mirror, and then reforming to his car’s left.  He could still feel the car lifting up from the road, and his arms still felt tired from grabbing the door and steering wheel, in a vain attempt to hold his car together.  It was starting again when Scooter slowly opened one eye.  He was looking out of the passenger window, which was either cleaner than he remembered, or broken.  He wiggled his fingers and toes, and after accounting for them all in his head, he slowly started to realize he was partially resting on the roof of his car.  He slowly moved his sore neck so he could see upward, and he spotted his legs hooked around the lap belt of his car.  The shoulder strap was dangling by the door, but Scooter couldn’t quite see if it had broken or had been cut.  He heard rain hitting the underside of his car, which was a sound he had never planned on hearing.  He went to undue the lap belt, but his left arm radiated pain as he moved it upward.  He heard the click, and felt the hold on his legs vanish.  His backside fell to the roof, and the reality of being prone on the roof of his car from the inside was sinking in.  He felt around for his laptop and video camera, but he didn’t find them.

rrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Oh no…no no no…” Scooter said aloud.  The dull roar sounded like a freight train, and Scooter knew surviving a tornado in a car once was rare, but twice was altogether unlikely.  He squared himself on all fours, but his knees and shoulders felt like he’d been swimming for hours.  He slowly crawled towards the broken window.

rrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHH

“Dammit dammit” Scooter said as he placed his first hand outside the car.  The wet gravel squished between his fingers.  A road?  Great, I can get in the ditch Scooter thought.  He sighed with relief as he placed his other hand out to grasp the road.  Instead of feeling more gravel, he felt cold wet steel.  He closed his hand around what felt like a railroad track.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHH

Scooter’s eyes were suddenly open more than they ever had been.  He was frantically looking for the other track, and he could the wet ground start to quake lightly as the train approached.  He looked quickly to his left and saw the lights from the locomotive coming right at him.  Scooter crawled backwards back into his car, just as the speeding train roared past his car, missing it by less than a foot.  Scooter covered his ears as the train blanketed the nearby landscape with a dull roar that his hands could barely keep out.  A few minutes later, the train had gone past, and Scooter took his hands off his ears.  He once again heard the sound of rain on the car’s undercarriage, but he also heard what sounded like footsteps.  Scooter once again crawled out of his car as the footsteps got closer.  “Scooter?”  Scooter pulled himself up, and he saw a familiar silhouette standing in front of some high-beam headlights.

“EVAN!  Holy crap…dude…I am beyond glad to see you.”  Scooter stumbled around the car, and found himself grasping Evan in a bear hug.  Evan struggled to hold them both up, as Scooter’s legs weren’t contributing much to that effort.

“Are you okay?  We need to get back to a town so we can call my Aunt Gert.”  Evan slowly helped Scooter to his feet, and Scooter looked at him very peculiarly. 

“Aunt Gert?”

“Yes…Aunt Gert.  This nice Nebraska State Patrolman is going to take us to town to make a call.  He’s relieved to know we weren’t out storm chasing or anything stupid like that.  We can make arrangements for your car as well.”

“Right, right…just let me grab a few things…”  Scooter turned and almost fell onto the car’s undercarriage, which was now the over-carriage. 

“You can grab your stuff later.  I need to get you two into town pronto” came a voice from behind the glow of the headlights.  Scooter looked at his car’s undercarriage, and saw something sticking out of his muffler.  He reached out and pulled at the object, which slid out.  It was a four of spades that had been jabbed into his muffler like some kind of paper dagger. 

“C’mon Scooter, we can come back later” Evan said as he tugged on Scooter’s sleeve.  Scooter slid the four into his back pocket and slowly walked to the patrol car with Evan’s help.

Four of Diamonds

(this story is an epilogue to the stories Jack of Clubs, Jack of Hearts, Jack of Spades, and Jack of Diamonds)

The dinging sound of the bell hanging on the door didn’t stir anyone at the all-night diner.  A man in a black suit walked in and looked around.  A sleepy waitress slowly walked out to him.  Her dirty blond hair was falling out of her bun, and she had numerous small stains all over her uniform.  Her name-tag read “Hazel” and was almost at a 45 degree angle.  “Table or a booth” she asked, mustering all the energy she could.  Her eyes drifted from the man’s face to his black tie.  A large red diamond was in the center, and she had to stop herself from staring at it.  The man didn’t even notice her staring, and within seconds he walked right past her.

“I see my party, but thanks anyway.”  The man walked towards the booth at the back of the diner.  On one side of the booth were two men.  One was dressed in a brightly colored t-shirt and cargo pants, and around his neck was a long gold chain with a gold club pendant.  The other man had cargo khakis and a black polo shirt, and he had a scowl on his face.  Sitting across from them was a man wearing a dress shirt with a red tie.  He was stirring his coffee with a forlorn look.  The man in the t-shirt looked up at him, and gestured to the open seat by the man in the red tie.  “Sorry I’m late.  Traffic.”

“It’s cool.  We were just waiting for you.  Not much else to do here.”

“How did we do?”  The man in the suit asked.

“I helped a young lady come out of her shell” the man in the t-shirt said.

“I…helped a woman stay in hers, in a manner of speaking” said the man in the dress shirt.  He lifted the spoon from his coffee, and watched the drops plop into the swirling maelstrom of caffeine.

“I kept one alive” said the angry man in a polo shirt.  His gaze was turned to the window, where he looked at the world outside with contempt.

“I just helped one be reborn, thanks to keeping her fiance on task” said the man in the suit.  He looked up as the waitress came over.

“Anything for you?” she asked.

“Just a coffee, thanks.”

“Are you guys old high school friends?  None of you look like you belong together.”

“It…it’s complicated” said the man in the t-shirt.

“And private” said the angry man in black, who was still looking out the window.

“We’re old friends” said the man in the dress shirt, who went back to stirring his coffee.

“We’re just getting together.  We try to meet once in a while.”  The man in the diamond tie smiled wide.  Hazel nodded and slowly walked away.

“Well, let’s get this over with.  Nothing is going to change.”  The man in black turned away from the window, and began staring at his wrist.  The man in the diamond tie pulled out a pocket watch.  The man in the t-shirt reached into a pocket and pulled out a cell phone.  The man in the dress shirt and red tie pulled a pager from his belt.

“It might this time” said the man in the diamond tie.

“Doubt it” said the man in the red tie.

“We’ll know soon” said the man in the t-shirt. Hazel walked over with a pot of coffee, but none of the men stopped their clock watching.  She poured the man in the diamond tie a coffee and walked way.  As she walked away, she suddenly was overcome with a strange, insatiable urge.  She walked to the cash register and quickly added up the ticket for that table.  She almost felt like she was outside of her own body as she grabbed one of the ratty old leather binders that they used during the day.  She inserted the check, and walked over to the booth.  She dropped the binder on the table and walked away, and she snapped out of the trance she was in without any warning.  Dizzy, she grabbed the counter by the cash register to keep from falling.  She looked over and saw the man with the diamond tie open the binder.  He threw it in the middle of the table, and all four men looked disappointed.  The man in the diamond tie quickly drank his coffee, and stood up.  He tossed something on the table and gestured to the other three men.  One by one, they all stood up and walked toward the exit.  The men began exiting, and the man in diamond tie hung behind them and watched them leave.  Hazel walked towards the booth, but the man in the diamond tie simply smiled.

“You can keep the change” he said as he walked towards the door.  Hazel watched him walk out, and then picked up the binder.  Inside, she found a hundred dollar bill.  In the center of the table, there was a four of diamonds face up, and there was something written on it.  She picked up the card, which only read ‘Albuquerque‘.  She walked quickly to the door, but there were no cars in the lot, and no headlights on the horizon…

Four of Clubs

The distant future

Major Andrews watched the shuttle slowly float next to the station.  The green and yellow light of the planet below illuminated the scorch marks on the shuttle, and Major Andrews didn’t expect to see those.  The lights above the airlock door slowly went from red to green, and the doors slid open.  A soldier walked out of the airlock and then looked back.  “All clear” the soldier said.

“Is this really necessary?” Andrews asked.

“It is.  The pirate activity is a bit off the chart right now.  I didn’t catch the name of my pilot but he needs a raise.”  Andrews looked over the man who had spoken.  He was wearing a business suit that looked like it was out of the mid-21st century, with the only modern accent being an energy pistol that was clearly visible.  “David Carson, reporting for duty.  How may I serve United Earth today?”

“Walk with me, and I’ll give you the update Mr. Carson.  Might I say, your reputation is well known out here.  We asked for the best negotiator and diplomat they had, so I’m glad they sent you.”  Carson picked up his briefcase and began following Major Andrews.

“I appreciate it, but I’m one screw up away from a desk job at the Saturn Orbital Colony.”  Carson had now caught up, and was matching Andrews step for step.

“I’d heard you were from Saturn’s Colony.  What’s it like, growing up on a space station?” Andrews was still looking him over.  Deep down, he had his doubts about the young diplomat.

“I burn easy when I go to the beach.  Now, tell me about the Kryz’gola.”

“They won’t win any beauty contests.  This planet is one they claim, but they have no colonies or settlements.  We put this station here because it’s a great staging area to fight the growing problem the pirates are presenting in this sector.  Plus there are some really weird readings we’re getting from the atmosphere.”

“Colonization prospects?”

“None.  The atmosphere’s toxic, even to them.  Plus the gravitational pull is three times that of earth, so we have to structurally re-enforce every probe we send.”

“The Kryz’gola.  Language barriers?”

“None.  They have limited telepathy, so their negotiator has already mastered every Earth dialect, and he’s well versed in our history.  He’s waiting now, but I told him you might not want to m-”

“Take me to him” Carson said.

***

David Carson walked into the negotiation room.  The temperature dropped twenty degrees, and the air was thick a smell that reminded David of a visit to a fish market in Seattle.  The Kryz’golan was sitting on the other side of an old wooden table.  His skin was green and almost translucent, and his head was covered in small tentacles.  His three eyes were red, blue and yellow, and his mouth was thankfully closed.  Instead of arms there were more tentacles on his sides, and four long ones were neatly placed around the legs of his chair.  “You must be David Carson” he heard in his head.  “I’ve been told our breath carries fumes toxic to your species, so I will communicate with my telepathy.”

“That’s fine.  Do you mind if I speak out loud?” Carson said.

“Not at all.  You humans seem to enjoy talking, among other things.”

“Major Andrews told me your people had limited telepathy.”

“Well, every time I met with him, there were others.  It’s harder to focus on a group.  Since there’s just one of you, it makes things much easier.”

That would have been nice to know.

“Yes, that would have been nice for you to know.  Also, this will be harder than you thought.”

“Yes…well…let’s discuss the planet.  Our people only want to operate a space station here.  My government has given me clearance to offer to move this station to one of the planet’s moons.”

“That will be unacceptable.  Your people must leave this system.”

“May I ask what significance this planet holds for your people?  If we have interfered with any kind of religious or-”

“This planet is of no use to us, but we do not wish to be neighbors of such a limited and violent race.”

“Major Andrews told me you read up on us.”

“I have.  Your species only achieved peace on your own planet less than a millennium ago.  Your space fleet still has ships and fighter groups made up of a certain region’s people, by the choice of those serving on those ships.  Look at your staff here.  Major Andrews has a patch on his sleeve of a British flag.  The soldiers who came with you had patches of the United States, Saudi Arabia, Russia and Brazil.  You claim your planet is united but your species clings to their old territorial homes.”

“Not all of us wear those patches.  We haven’t been at war on Earth for hundreds of years.”

“This pirate problem…what is the race those pirates are primarily made up of?”

“Humans.  Humans who  have chosen to embrace our darker nature.  If there’s one thing humans do better than that, it’s overcome long odds.”

“Like negotiating with a telepath?  You can’t surprise me or use your diplomatic double speak on me.”

“If I could surprise you, and show how we like to overcome long odds, would you agree to negotiation?”

The Kryz’golan’s head tentacles waved about wildly. “I’ll give you once chance, but I won’t stop using my telepathy.”

“That’s fine.  I don’t want you to stop.”  David popped open his briefcase and pulled out a rectangular box.  He  opened the box. and dropped a deck of cards on the table.  “Do you know what these are?”

“You humans call them cards.  Are you going to challenge me to a game?”

“Nope.”  David straightened up the deck, and then spread the purple backed deck across the table.  “I want you to pick a card.  Any one card, but don’t tell me what it is.”

“Very well.”  The Kryz’golan carefully stretched out a tentacle, and slid one of the purple cards out.  Another tentacle helped the Kryz’golan hold the card up as the alien looked it over.  “Now what?”

“Put it back in the deck.  Anywhere.”  The Kryz’golan placed the card face down, and slid the card back into the the deck.  David bunched up the cards and began shuffling.  The Kryz’golan tried to read  his mind, but all he saw were purple card backs with a drawing of Saturn on them.  The tentacles on his head went crazy as he focused even harder.  All he could get from David’s mind was the back of the cards.

“This is pointless.  You have no idea.  You’re stalling.”

“If you’re a telepath you know that’s not true.”  David slammed the cards on the table, and shook his head.  “Very well.  I’ll tell the Major to begin disassembling the base and to move out of this system.”  He took the cards and put them back in their box, and then tossed them into his briefcase.  As he was closing his briefcase, the Kryz’golan looked at the table.

“You forgot one card.”

“No I didn’t.  That one is yours.”  David watched the Kryz’golan’s tentacle whip out and flip the card over.  The four of clubs was now face up.

“Perhaps I’ve misjudged you and your people.  Tell me, how did you shield your mind and find my card?”

“That knowledge is up for negotiation” David said with a smile.  The tentacles on the Kryz’golan’s head slowed down, and the body of the Kryz’golan undulated.

“Indeed!  I think we can find some common ground after all.  Sit.  Let us discuss your space station…”