Ronald’s Birthday

baby triceratops - 2018 - cropped
Eduardo Suré; Baby Triceratops, 2018; Watercolor

Sixty-six million years ago, there was a nest in the middle of a prairie with a single egg in it the size of a melon. The nest appeared as if someone had started to dig a hole for a kiddie pool, but had changed their mind. It also appeared they had decided the shallow hole and the dirt scattered around were unsightly. Instead of refilling the hole, they threw some grass over it to hide it. It was not the tidy bird’s nest one would imagine.

A single female triceratops, named Deborah, grazed about the nest. Deborah was very tall and long and extremely heavy. In fact, she was enormous. She had a large round horn on her nose. She also had two very long horns that grew out of her head just above her eyes. She used her size and her horns to defend the nest and the large expanse of land around it that made up her territory.

One bright and beautiful morning, the egg cracked. A creature small enough to fit inside the cantaloupe sized egg broke pieces out. When it removed enough of the shell so that the size of the exit was large enough, the little baby triceratops stumbled slowly out of the egg.

The baby triceratops, named Ronald, looked like a sweaty sloppy mess on the ground. He was a miniature version of his mother, but without horns. Ronald was exhausted from his effort to break out of the egg. He sat on the bare ground to rest. While he did, his skin dried off a bit and his muscles loosened up.

When Ronald felt rested, he began to wrestle with gravity to get on his feet. Although it was very difficult and required him to use all of his strength, he was determined to get up. He grunted and whined, but he eventually succeeded and stood up.

Standing had indeed been a challenge for Ronald. The hard work brought him some satisfaction, but also pointed his attention to a feeling that gave him some distress. So, he whined very loudly. The sound of his cry was like someone was letting the air out of a balloon while pinching apart the opening. However, crying did not help him feel better.

Ronald did not intend to just stand around and wait for help to arrive. He took a few steps forward and stumbled as he did. Walking was additionally challenging for him because he was in the nest. No matter what direction he went, he had to go uphill to get out. Again, he was determined to beat gravity. Step by step, he walked up a side of the hole until he arrived at the upper rim. He paused there for a moment and scanned the prairie around him wondering what to do next.

Deborah, Ronald’s mother, had been watching him. She needed him to begin learning to be independent right away, but she also knew she would need to do many things to take care of him until he was ready to be on his own. She walked over to him and placed herself where he could see her. Ronald wailed at its mother, but she did not move any closer to him. His instincts told him that mom had what he needed and he would need to go to her. The distress he had felt was hunger and mom would help it go away. So, he walked to her with a little less difficulty than he’d had inside of the nest.

Ronald easily figured out how to get milk. Although he was Deborah’s first baby, she appeared to know how to feed him too. She even appeared to feel better herself as he ate.

After a few minutes, it was Deborah’s turn to eat. After all, she needed nutrition to make good milk for Ronald. So, she left him and went out to the prairie to find some green vegetation to eat. He was no longer hungry, but he was also not full. He would have happily continued to eat, so he made a lot of unpleasant noise that Deborah ignored while she grazed.

As Ronald digested his food, he became cold. He stood alone in the middle of the field and shivered. Deborah grazed near enough to him that he could see her. With less graceful movement than he had shown when he went to her for food, he walked to her across the grass. The longer walk gave his clumsiness an opportunity to show. He stumbled and nearly fell a few times as he walked across the uneven prairie. He was grateful that she had grazed in one spot while he traveled. Eventually, he reached her. Under the bright sun, upon the quiet prairie, with a light breeze making the grass dance in the distance; he stood by his mother feeling warm and happy.

© 2018 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Advertisements

Judging Linda

linda 2018 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Linda, 2018; Watercolor

Donald sat at the end of the family’s kitchen table that faced his wife, Elizabeth, as she cooked. She moved from cutting vegetables at her worn out counter to stirring broth and meatballs in her dented pot on her old stove. He did not watch her; he was looking at his hardened hands. He used his thumb to scrape off his fingernails the semi-gloss he used at work that day. He frowned when he saw paint he had not completely washed off his skin.

“Did you have a bad day, Papa Bear?” asked Elizabeth. Her nickname for him made sense to anyone who knew Donald.

“No,” replied Donald. “I just can never get the paint off my hands all the way.” He showed her his hands. He was able to tell by the way she was stirring his dinner that something was wrong. “How was your day, Honey Badger?” Donald and Elizabeth did not know what honey badgers were.

“It was alright,” answered Elizabeth, “until I found a pair of pants in Linda’s drawer. When I was putting away the laundry…”

“A pair of what?” asked Donald.

“Pants,” answered Elizabeth.

“Women’s pants or men’s pants?” asked Donald.

“All pants are for men,” answered Elizabeth.

“I mean, were they the kind of pants sold to women?” asked Donald.

“Women who aren’t saved,” said Elizabeth.

“You know what I mean,” said Donald.

“Well, yes,” answered Elizabeth. “They look small, but they stretch. They must look painted on – showing everyone her behind. Can you believe she has been wearing pants behind our backs?”

“Have you talked to Linda about it?” asked Donald.

“She knows Deuteronomy chapter 22 verse 5 as well as you and I,” answered Elizabeth.

“Well, is she actually wearing them?” asked Donald.

“Not now, she’s not,” answered Elizabeth.

“I don’t mean now,” said Donald, “but does she put them on at school or when she goes out with friends?”

“I bet you it’s that Barbara,” said Elizabeth. “Did you know she’s Catholic? Only goes to church on Sundays for an hour. They let their children do whatever they want. Catholics. Just confess and you get a clean slate on which you can go right back out and write filth like it’s the bathroom wall at the bus station. ‘For a good time, call Barbara 555-244-2888’. That’s what her slate says.”

“We knew she was going to meet all kinds of people in high school,” said Donald.

“We should have put her in private school,” said Elizabeth.

“You know we can’t afford that,” said Donald.

“And they worship idols! Catholics,” said Elizabeth. “Imagine: praying to a statue you bought from some sinner at a flea market.”

“Why don’t we just call Linda in here and talk to her?” asked Donald.

“Oh, I just want to spank her right now,” said Elizabeth. “Just make her wear those tight jeans and spank her bottom!”

“Now that just sounded a little weird, Honey Badger,” said Donald. “Why don’t you calm yourself and let’s talk to her?”

“I’m always calm,” said Elizabeth. “Always at peace. You know that. LINDA! LIN-DAH!” Donald and Elizabeth heard a door squeak on its hinges as it opened. A moment later, their teenage daughter appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. She wore a modest long sleeved shirt and a long matching skirt, but she was barefooted. She was a sophomore in high school, but looked like a little girl to Donald and Elizabeth.

“Yes, Mom?” answered Linda. “Hi, Dad.”

“Have a seat, Linda,” said Donald.

Dad, I’m in the middle of my pre-calculus homework,” said Linda. “I’m going to forget something I just figured out.”

“Listen to you father,” said Elizabeth. “We need to talk.” Linda pulled the seat closest to her away from the table and plopped herself down in it. She sat slouching with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Donald began to say, “In a letter to Timothy, Paul said…”

“I found a pair of pants in your drawer!” interrupted Elizabeth. “Why have you been wearing pants?”

Mom,” Linda began to protest.

Donald began to say, “The bible tells us…”

“To dress modestly,” interrupted Linda. “Those pants are Barbara’s, Mom.”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

“I spilled my school lunch all over her,” said Linda. “I felt really bad about it. It looked like she peed herself. I lent her my spare skirt and promised I would wash them for her.”

“Oh,” said Elizabeth.

“Anything else?” asked Linda.

“We’re sorry we jumped to conclusions,” said Donald.

“Can I go finish my homework with Barbara?” asked Linda. “I can take her evil pants back to her. They reek of the Devil.”

“Don’t be smart,” said Elizabeth. Linda’s mentioning the Devil gave Elizabeth goosebumps. “Be back by eight.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Linda. Elizabeth watched her daughter rush out of the room. Donald looked disapprovingly at his nails. The meatball soup boiled over. He sighed.

“Let me serve you your dinner so I can go pray for forgiveness,” said Elizabeth. Her voice broke at the end of her sentence.

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” said Donald. “You’re just making sure Linda gets into Heaven.”

“I said by my reaction that I don’t trust her,” said Elizabeth. She tried to swallow a lump in her throat. Donald did not want her emotions to escalate to crying. He did not want to be hungry while he consoled his wife.

“Why don’t you go on ahead, Honey Badger,” said Donald. “I’ll serve myself. It’s OK.” Elizabeth hesitated and then nodded her head in agreement. Donald watched her walk out of the kitchen with her apron on. He sighed with relief. He found some sour cream in the refrigerator he was not supposed to eat because of his health, and he took from the bread box a baguette also forbidden to him. “Take your time, Honey Badger!”

As Donald soaked up the last of his soup with his baguette, Linda arrived safely at Barbara’s house. She returned the jeans she had borrowed and worn twice that week at school. Barbara lent her a pair of shorts Barbara’s mother only allowed her to wear over her swimsuit at the beach.

© 2018 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Unspoken Pledge

gardener - 2018 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Gardener, 2018; Watercolor

Daniel is eating dinner with Matthew in the office space of the city’s abandoned minor league baseball stadium. The men are not talkative. They are recovering from tense moments that occurred during the last mission. Daniel is a good spotter, but he made some mistakes. He watches Matthew, the shooter in their sniper team, open a meal packet. He opens one too. Daniel knows Matthew will not say anything when he is unhappy. To fix things, he has to get him talking.

“Do you think we can rely on them to keep watch?” asks Daniel.

“Why?” asks Matthew, “Because they are civilians?”

“Yeah,” says Daniel.

“Sure,” says Matthew.

“Do you know any of them?” asks Daniel. He looks down and spreads peanut butter on bread that feels like slightly damp particle board. It does not fall apart as he expects it to. He finds a packet of grape jelly and looks up at Matthew to coax an answer.

“No,” says Matthew. He is working hard to chew his food. “Just stories.”

“What stories?” asks Daniel.

“Like the guy with the face,” says Matthew. “He’s a born grenadier. He used to make his own explosives before they started taking supplies from Grumpies. You still won’t catch him using a grenade launcher. He wants to run into trenches and Dead zones and whatever. You’d think he’s crazy, but he keeps walking away with the same number of holes in his body.”

“What about the two little Mexican girls he was talking to?” asks Daniel.

“They sell burritos,” says Matthew.

“No, really,” says Daniel.

“They’re illegals,” says Matthew.

“Illegals?” asks Daniel. “Why are they hanging around with this bunch?”

“I asked Maria the same question,” says Matthew. “She’s the older one. She speaks OK English, but it was obvious she wasn’t born here.”

“What did she say?” asks Daniel.

“Short or long version?” asks Matthew. Daniel thinks about it. He feels the tension easing.

“Long,” says Daniel.

“Alright. So, Maria and Juana crossed over a couple of years before the Grumpies invaded,” says Matthew. “They had to work off what they owed the coyote in a sweat shop. They were basically slaves. The living and working conditions were crap. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere. The work was backbreaking, but maybe less so than it was back home. At least they got to eat every day, she said. In the end, they let them go after they paid off their debt.”

“That’s actually shocking,” says Daniel.

“Yeah,” says Matthew, “They didn’t believe it either. So after that, their cousin set them up to work in this crazy mansion. The owners were absurdly rich – huge place. There were a lot of workers to keep the place looking perfect, but it was this set up where the owners didn’t want to see them. So when the owners left, everyone would come out of their holes and work their butts off doing their job. When the owners came around, everyone would disappear. It was weird, but the girls loved it. The work was light compared to anything they’d ever done. They had their own clean beds, air conditioning, showers – they had to wear uniforms, but it was new clothing for them.”

“You’re making me sad,” says Daniel.

“Sucks, right?” says Matthew. “But she said they were happy. The other workers were like family. Well, she said some were actually extended family. Maria worked in the gardens. Juana worked in the kitchens. Life was good.”

“Then the EMPs hit,” says Daniel.

“Maria said she didn’t even know it happened,” says Matthew. “She said she was outside repairing garden boxes with a hammer. Then, she heard some people yelling to each other – just asking each other questions. She thought the owners were back, so she stood up to hear. She had an unobstructed view west from the garden she was working at. She said that she saw them coming like a swarm of ants across the field.”

“Sounds like the mansion was perfect for a base,” says Daniel.

“That’s what they were going to use it for,” says Matthew. “Maria said she just stood there watching them come. She didn’t know what to make of it. Then, she heard some taps. Workers just fell. She snapped out of it when someone close to her caught a bullet and she saw what that does to a head.” Matthew puts food in his mouth and chews slowly.

Daniel imagines the scene. It was probably a beautiful day. Everyone was just doing their job before it happened.

“Maria said she ran to get her sister,” says Matthew. “She just ran. When she got to the door, she couldn’t turn the doorknob because she still had the hammer she was using in her hand. When she got to the kitchen, everyone was standing around the appliances trying to get them to work. Everyone’s focus changed real quick once Maria told them what was happening outside. They all ran out, except Juana. She would have run out too if Maria hadn’t grabbed her in a panic and asked her what they were going to do. Lucky for her because no one else made it wherever they were going.”

“Shot?” asks Daniel.

“Yeah,” says Matthew. “So Juana said they needed to run through the mansion to the stables. Farm girls. Maria didn’t want to run outside, but Juana said they wouldn’t need to. The owners connected the stables to the house so they could show off their horses to guests without having to go outside. Sweet little Juanita took a kitchen knife to go.”

“Since you mentioned it, I think she’s going to use it,” says Daniel.

“Well, that’s where Maria’s eyes watered when she was telling me the story,” says Matthew. “When they got to the stable, there were two Grumpies from a fire and maneuver team lingering after securing the stables. The girls had to make a choice quickly: go back or move forward.” Matthew puts food in his mouth and chews it slowly as Daniel looks at him with anticipation.

“How did they take out two Grumpies with one kitchen knife?” asks Daniel.

“A kitchen knife and a hammer,” says Matthew. “The girls were raised on a farm or whatever they call them over there. They slaughtered their own pigs. Fast. Quiet. Physically, she said it wasn’t hard.”

“Yeah, but with a hammer?” says Daniel.

“They probably don’t use .22s to stun pigs before killing them in Mexico,” says Matthew. “Not poor people. Look, I really don’t know. Anyway, the girls rode off bareback on racehorses into the backcountry.”

“So why didn’t they go back to Mexico?” asks Daniel.

“Maria said they were mad as hornets,” says Matthew.

“She said hornets?” asks Daniel.

“No, I said hornets,” says Matthew. “They were angry, OK? They had nothing most of their lives. When they got something, it was a big deal. Then, someone just took it.”

“Does it make them happy killing Grumpies?” asks Daniel.

“I don’t know,” says Matthew. “But they feel like they need to.”

© 2018 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Kenneth’s Snack Shield

kenneth with vending machine - 2017 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Kenneth Carrying Vending Machine, 2017; Graphite

Kenneth waited in the Emergency Room with his grandmother. It was a brightly lit area kept clean on the surface, but his young nose picked up traces of every sickness in the room. He was unprepared for the sick people and he was unprepared for the wait. His grandmother’s symptoms had been frightening to him, and he had rushed her to the hospital. However, the Emergency Room staff had not even considered excusing her from filling out forms – much less from sitting for a long while among other miscellaneous sufferers. The department’s remedies for boredom included a television that only played health infotainment, untouchable magazines because of the number of sick people who’d deposited their germs on them, and an improvised game of guess-what-ails-him.

“The tall one by the desk just hit his head with the doorframe on his way in,” his grandmother joked.

Kenneth felt responsible for his grandmother’s symptoms. She had gone to work without the yellow jewel whose power had kept her healthy for so many years. Her regular job tasks had worn her out. She had been feeling tired most days. She had not been able to sleep. She had forgotten things and had not been able to concentrate. If she had not given him the jewel to have on his person, she would have still been healthier than women one tenth her age. But she had refused to take it back insisting that her body had to learn to take care of itself.

Kenneth stood up and walked over to the vending machines that were along the back wall of the room. One machine sold sodas and water. The other sold snacks. He laughed that a hospital would offer such unhealthy choices. As he looked through the assortment of chips, chocolates, and candies; he heard a commotion in the distance. Then, the sounds grew louder. The still sick air in the waiting room was shattered by the distant, but undeniable, sounds of screaming and the baritone bang of a shotgun.

Kenneth went where the ends of two halls met at the Emergency Room entrance. One hall led to the ambulance bay and the other, much longer hall, led to a receptionist’s desk at the front of the hospital. He heard another low bang. It came from the end of the much longer hall. As he looked down it, he saw a man turn the corner and walk down the hall toward him. He held a shotgun. Kenneth was out of range, so he watched the shooter for a moment to see what he was up to. The shooter checked doors as he walked down the hall. He did not bother trying to open locked doors and the few that were unlocked led to broom closets and supply rooms. He was looking for anyone to shoot.

Kenneth walked back into the Emergency Room. He looked around to assess the people’s awareness of the danger. They did not know the man was coming. The sounds of screaming and shots fired seconds ago were absorbed by the walls and drowned out by the television. The people by the Ambulance bay doors probably evacuated promptly.

Even if the people in the Emergency Room knew the danger that was coming, many of them would not be able to flee. Kenneth looked around the room and lamented the number of disabled people. Most of them would not outrun the shooter. They would be easy targets. He thought about just alerting everyone as he carried his grandmother out to safety, but immediately felt badly about having considered leaving disabled people to fend for themselves.

Kenneth decided to take action himself. The jewel made him very fast and very strong, but not faster than bullets and not strong enough to keep them from harming him. He needed a shield. He grabbed the sides of the vending machine he had shopped at earlier and picked it up. He realized that may have appeared very unusual to anyone who had seen him and quickly looked over his shoulder at the people in the waiting room. No one had noticed. He carried the machine a couple of steps and almost dropped it when the power cord, which was still plugged in, went taught. He tugged on the machine a few times until the plug came out of the socket. Then, he looked around again to see if anyone had noticed him. No one had; so, he carried the machine across the room and to the hall.

The shooter was much closer to the entrance of the Emergency Room. He paused for a moment when he saw Kenneth carrying the vending machine, but he quickly snapped out of his surprise and his defenses kicked in. He fired his shotgun at Kenneth who then used the vending machine as a shield. The sound of the gun firing was startling and frightening. Kenneth felt the bumps of the shot as they struck the back of the machine. He shielded as much of his body as he could while still being able to see the shooter.

“Put the gun down, er, Mister,” Kenneth said. Kenneth’s original plan was to throw the vending machine at the shooter. Having seen him up close and as just another person, Kenneth feared he might crush or kill him. If it could be done, Kenneth would find a nonlethal way to stop the shooter. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” the shooter said. “This is the only voice this country hears.”

Kenneth continued to advance slowly toward the shooter using the vending machine as a shield. Then, shots pierced the back of the machine. Food bags were shredded and the metal flew through the inside. The plastic cracked. The next shot would likely come through.

“I’m not old enough to vote yet, but I think I can reply to you for my country,” Kenneth said as he felt adrenaline explode from his core and rush out to his extremities. His fear crossed a threshold and thrust him to action. He rushed forward and quickly closed the gap between him and the shooter. The shooter held his ground, so Kenneth rammed him with the vending machine and sent him flying. The shooter fell hard on his back, slammed his head on the ground, and released the shotgun as his arms struck the ground. It slid spinning away from where he laid.

Kenneth heard the footsteps of people running down the hall. He looked up and saw that they belonged to two security guards and two hospital staff. They spotted the shooter on the ground. As the shooter reached for his shotgun, the two security guards pounced on him. One staff member helped them restrain the man and another picked up the shotgun to make sure its owner would not be able to retrieve it. The shooter was finished.

Kenneth saw everyone’s attention focused on the bad guy, so he slipped away. He walked quietly back into the waiting room to sit with his grandmother. The room was nearly empty. The only people left were his grandmother and a few others who could not move themselves and had been left behind.

“Why are you still here?” Kenneth asked his grandmother. “Didn’t you hear the gunshots?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to lose my place in line,” she replied.

© 2018 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

A Silent Community

ashley shot - 2017 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Ashley Shot, 2017; Watercolor

“No, you cannot go outside of our jurisdiction,” the police lieutenant answered. Ashley observed that the lieutenant was leaning back on his chair. He always leaned back when his mind was made up. Perhaps he felt physically relaxed after making a decision. “That case is closed. Good job. Don’t ask me about it again, Detective.” The lieutenant leaned forward and picked up a file. He tossed it so it slid across his desk and stopped in front of Ashley.

“What is this, Lieutenant?” Ashley asked. She picked up the thick file folder, opened it, and scanned the contents.

“It’s your next assignment,” the lieutenant answered. “You and Detective Jackson have a look at that. If you have any questions, come see me. Now go out there and get me another win. And play nice with the SWAT Team this time if you call them in.”

Ashley studied the contents of the file at her desk. Someone had been killing drug dealers. The locations and patterns suggested that someone was taking territory held by another gang. It seemed to her that the case should have been solved a long time ago.

Turf wars were not new to Ashley; but as she looked through the file, she saw this case was different. There were no leads from people. In most cases, someone in the neighborhood said something to the police. The reasons for saying something ranged from simply wanting the violence to end to having a preference for which gang held the territory in the end. According to the documents, no one was willing to talk to the police. People were afraid.

Ashley and Kimberly went to investigate the territory where the murders had been committed. There were no clues, so they went door to door to talk to residents. Some people answered the door, but refused to talk. Others who were obviously home did not answer.

“No one’s talking,” Kimberly said. She and Ashley stood on the sidewalk across from one of the many apartment buildings. “Let’s go back to our desks and go over the murder books again.”

“Maybe we should stick around a little longer,” Ashley suggested. “The dealers might talk if we can find them.”

“They might,” Kimberly said.

“They get killed eithe’ way,” a woman said behind them. Ashley and Kimberly turned around and saw an old woman who appeared homeless. She had a shopping cart full of blankets, a tent, cardboard, a jug of water and cans of food. “That boy is takin’ ‘em out.”

“What boy?” Ashley asked.

“Boy in 137,” the woman answered. “Seen ‘im do it. Get out the way.”

“You saw a man kill another man?” Kimberly asked.

“Get out the way,” the woman repeated.

“Just a moment, please,” Ashley said. “You know who killed the dealers?”

“Yep. Boy in 137. That buildin’,” the woman answered. She pointed to a building in the next block. “Kill me too, but I look like the trash in the dark. It’s my camo. Get out the way.”

Ashley and Kimberly had to follow the lead. They walked to the building the woman had pointed to and found apartment 137. Once outside of it, they listened through the front door for a few moments. They heard music coming from the inside of the apartment, but that was all. They rang the doorbell and waited, but no one answered. Then, they knocked and waited.

A short and muscular man answered the door. He had a butch haircut, a weary face, and cold eyes. He wore a white tank top, jeans, and black steel toed shoes. He looked at the two women as if he was trying to guess the intent of their visit before they announced it. Ashley pretended to scratch just below her clavicle. She did not have an itch: she only made sure she wore an orange jewel that gave her the power to replicate herself.

“Sir, I am Detective Smith and this is Detective Jackson,” Ashley said. The man looked at their shoes as he scratched his head as if he tried to understand what she had just said. Ashley glanced at Kimberly to read her thoughts. In the second she looked away, the man had pulled a gun out of his back. There was a loud bang, and Kimberly fell to the ground.

Ashley drew her firearm as she moved behind the wall for cover. The man moved to shoot Kimberly again, but Ashley fired her gun at him. She missed, and the man retreated into the dark apartment.

Ashley was focused on getting through the situation. That focus allowed her to replicate effortlessly. She left a copy of herself, Ashley 2, to protect her partner and then moved into the apartment in pursuit of the suspect.

When Ashley walked into the first room, she noticed the apartment was bigger than she had expected. The layout was a problem because there were rooms in both directions. If she went the wrong way, he could surprise her or escape. It was too risky to pursue the suspect alone. She replicated again. She and Ashley 3 moved through the apartment room by room. The rooms were meticulously clean and organized, so they were easy to search. Still, she expected to be shot every time she looked through a doorway.

Ashley 3 noticed a back door in the laundry room at the back of the apartment. Ashley moved into a position to cover Ashley 3 as she opened the door. When Ashley 3 turned the doorknob, multiple shots were fired through the door from outside. Ashley 3 dropped to the ground. She yelped when a bullet hit the front of her shoulder and went out the back. Both Ashleys remained completely still until the gunfire stopped.

Ashley heard footsteps pounding the pavement outside. She looked carefully out the doorway, saw the suspect running away, and ran after him. Ashley 3 chased him too, but the pain from the bullet wound slowed her down. As Ashley began to tire, she replicated. Ashley 4 sprinted, caught up to the suspect, and tackled him to the ground. She tried to restrain him, but the man resisted. He was too strong for her. He knocked her to the ground and pinned her there by climbing on top of her. He pulled his arm back to punch her, but Ashley and Ashley 3 arrived just in time to grab his arm. The three women wrestled the man to the ground and cuffed him.

Once Ashley was certain that the suspect was restrained, she absorbed Ashleys 3 and 4. She felt exhausted. She also felt the pain of a wound in her left shoulder. The man was armed, dangerous, and impulsive; but that did not justify the communities fear. The case did not feel closed to her.

After police officers arrived to pick up the suspect, the Lieutenant called Ashley. He told her to go to the same hospital where they had taken Kimberly and get her bullet wound treated. After treatment, she was to report to his office. He was concerned that the reports and facts of the events were not lining up.

She took the orange jewel out of her shirt and clenched it in her fist as she took a deep breath. Before going to see the Lieutenant, she needed to find and absorb Ashley 2. After doing that, she would know everything that had happened and be ready to say anything she will need to say.

© 2017 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Doctor Moore’s Drive

rearview mirror - 2017 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Rearview Mirror, 2017; Watercolor

Doctor Andrew Moore clenched the steering wheel and squinted as he scanned the horizon of the desert landscape for civilization. After seeing none, he checked the truck’s rearview mirrors for any signs that he was being followed. He had known the risk he had accepted when he had remained at the site of the dig after the government lost control of the area to criminals. He had not expected the risk to be realized and to find himself fleeing in a truck filled with whatever he could hastily gather.

Andrew reminded himself frequently to slow down. He pressed the gas pedal down when he thought about getting caught and taken prisoner. However, he slowed down when he remembered why he had stayed in the first place. In the back of the truck, he transported a mummified chief and a few artifacts that provided clues to his identity. He had carefully, but hurriedly, prepared the precious cargo for the trip by truck and plane. However, the desert road he traveled upon was bumpier than he remembered it and he was afraid he would break something.

As Andrew scanned the rearview mirrors again, he saw a cloud of dust behind him. Not from his own truck, but from another vehicle. It grew in size as it closed in on him like a ravenous and monstrous grub. At the mouth of this threatening worm he saw a black sport utility vehicle. People who lived and worked in the area did not drive such expensive and polished vehicles. Such vehicles were usually employed in nefarious business.

The SUV was close enough for Andrew to see four men inside. The driver and the passenger sat normally in their seats, but two men in the second row leaned toward the center. They obviously studied his truck. They noticed him looking at them through his rearview.

The driver flashed his lights as he motioned with his right hand to Andrew to either move over or pull over. Andrew could not tell which of the two options the driver wanted to communicate, so he slowed down and drove as far to the right as the road allowed. That must not have been the response the driver wanted because the front passenger leaned out the window and fired an assault rifle at him. Each pop of the rifle was followed by thump or something breaking in the truck. One round hit the rearview mirror and made him unable to keep track of the SUV. Then, he saw the SUV pull up beside him. He saw the front passenger’s brown and bearded face stare coldly at him. He saw the assault rifle’s muzzle raised and pointed at him. The muzzle flashed.

Andrew felt the worse headache he’d ever felt. It felt like someone had put a screwdriver against his head and hit it with a hammer. He allowed the truck to slow to a stop and lay his head on the steering wheel to let the pain pass. The spot where the bullet hit his head felt hot. Then, it developed its own tiny heartbeat. The bullet had struck his head and he had felt the pain, but it did not break his skin. He did not feel swelling either.

Andrew heard two sets of feet grinding desert stones beneath them as they approached the truck. He could tell that one walked up on his side and the other walked up the passenger side. He was an Archeologist and had only ever fought other people with words at conferences. He did not know how to physically defend himself. He had no idea what to do.

Andrew held his breath as a man opened the door. He felt the man’s eyes on him. The cold muzzle of a gun was placed against his temple. Andrew grabbed the gun and simultaneously thrust his head back and pushed the gun forward. The man pulled the trigger and fired the gun as he tried to keep hold of it. The bullet hit the second man as he looked through the passenger side window. Andrew bit the man’s hand without restraint. The intense pain caused the man to pull back his hand. As he did, he dropped his gun and fled.

Andrew was driven by impulse. He knew one man was down, but did not realize what that actually meant. He straightened out the gun in his hand, pointed it in the general direction of the fleeing man, and fired multiple shots. He did not know how to properly use a gun, so the bullets whizzed away safely into the desert. When the gun clicked and no longer fired, he regretted his reaction.

As the man approached the SUV, the driver and front passenger stepped out. They both went to a place behind the truck where Andrew could not see them. He heard one of the men move quickly up the side of the truck. The man tossed something that looked like a black aerobics dumbbell into the cab. As he looked at it, the dumbbell burst into a blinding light and made a deafening sound.

Andrew was disoriented. He felt himself dragged out of the truck. As he lay on the desert floor, the men kicked and stomped on him. He felt some discomfort, but they were unable to do him harm. His sight and hearing returned as the men grew tired of kicking him.

Out of frustration, one of the men pulled out his gun and shot Andrew’s head. He felt severe pain again, but the bullet bounced off. The men were shocked. They looked at each other and an argument broke out about the gun. Andrew took advantage of their distraction and tackled one of the men. He knocked the man to the ground, but did not know what to do with him after that. He tried to restrain the man’s arms, but his attempt was so awkward that the man did not fight back. As he withdrew the hug he was giving the man, he felt a pin like the one he had seen on the device the man had thrown in the cab. He pulled it, got up, and ran.

Andrew’s plan was to run in one direction until the device flashed and banged. Then, he would change directions and find somewhere to hide. He did not expect to see the flash, but he would know when to change directions when he heard the bang.

Instead of hearing a bang, he heard a loud explosion. He dove to the ground and did not look up until everything was quiet and debris stopped raining down. He peeked back to where he had left the men. They were no longer standing. Based on what he saw, the pin he had pulled belonged to a grenade.

Andrew picked himself up and dusted himself off. As he walked back to his truck, he pulled out the necklace he was wearing and kissed a red jewel set in it before tucking the necklace back into his shirt. The red jewel he had found at another dig had made him bullet proof. He got into the driver’s seat and just stared at the road ahead as he felt the weight on his heart of what he had done.

© 2017 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Finding the White Living Jewel

caliginous - 2017 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Caliginous, 2017; Watercolor

Melissa Taylor walked purposefully down Washington’s 14th Street North West wearing business attire to blend in with early morning commuters. Once she was across the street from the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, she stopped walking and pretended to type out a message on her phone. Her true purpose for stopping was to become more familiar with the public facing security of the facility.

Melissa planned to steal items from the Bureau of Engraving and Printing for a foreign collector. She planned to go in through a back door either exploiting a weakness in their physical security or personnel or both. She also planned to pick up some things for herself along the way to help maintain her very high standard of living.

As Melissa observed the building, she noticed a person staring at her from across the street. The person wore plain casual clothing: sneakers, jeans, and a hoodie that concealed a face in shadow. Yesterday’s word of the day, caliginous, came to her mind. Her best guess from the overall look of the person’s body was that the person was a male.

In Melissa’s mind, her only option was to confront him. She had a natural tendency to want to dominate others. She put her phone down and glared at him. His response was to raise his right arm from his side to bring forward his gloved hand with the palm up.

Melissa interpreted his gesture as a challenge. She made her posture even more defiant and exaggerated so he could see it from across the wide street. She placed her left hand on her hip, positioned her head above her right shoulder, and with her right hand extended dared him with her own gesture to go to her and get her.

He immediately began to walk toward Melissa. Without looking in either direction, he stepped off of the sidewalk and into the street. Automobile tires screeched to avoid hitting him. A van stopped too late. It rammed him and sent him flying forward onto the asphalt. He hit it with a thud and his body rolled to a stop. Melissa watched the accident in astonishment.

The driver of the van checked on his passengers. Then, he opened his door and stepped out to check on the man. The man stood up and began walking toward Melissa.

“Are you OK, sir?” the driver called out to him. “Don’t try to walk, sir. You may fall.” The man ignored the driver of the van.

Melissa realized she was not being threatened by an ordinary man. She pulled herself out of her shock and walked briskly up the street. She looked for options to get away. There were not enough pedestrians out for her to disappear into a crowd. She could run, try to catch a passing cab, or lose him in the subway.

Melissa looked behind her. The man continued to follow. There was no cab in sight. Around a corner about fifty yards ahead of her was a subway entrance. She was far enough ahead of him that she could turn the corner and descend into the subway without him seeing her do it. He would need to guess whether she went down the street and into an alley, into a building, or into the subway.

Melissa walked faster. She turned the corner and then walked quickly down the escalator to the subway tunnel. She had a monthly pass, so she went through the gate quickly as she heard a train approaching the platform. She had to travel another 25 yards and go down another set of escalators to catch that train. She took off her heels and began to run. At the top of the escalator, she heard the train’s warning chime that the doors were about to close. She descended as fast as she could; but, as she reached the bottom step, the doors closed and it departed.

Melissa looked back. The man was walking down the escalator and would surely intercept her if she tried to leave the station. The other end of the platform was a dead end for subway passengers, but she thought she might find a way to escape through the maintenance corridors.

Melissa looked back again as she ran. The man extended his gloved hand with its palm up. He asked her to give it to him. She realized what he wanted. The only thing that would interest such a creature was the white jewel. She was not going to give it to him.

When Melissa looked forward again, she ran into a pole that displayed subway maps. She hit it so hard she bounced back and fell to the ground. When she looked up, he stood over her. She could not see his face. ‘Caliginous,’ she thought. That is what she decided to name him.

Caliginous extended his gloved hand, and Melissa slapped it away. A black blade shot out from his wrist. He stabbed her with it. She had been stabbed before and had adapted to it. She screamed both from the pain and as a battle cry. She kicked Caliginous’ feet out from under him. The blade exited her as he fell to the ground face down. She moved quickly onto him as he was in a vulnerable position. Then, she placed him in a chokehold.

Instead of Caliginous, Melissa was the one who began to choke. There was no air in the tunnel. She let him go as she gasped for air. While he got up, her body adapted to the lack of oxygen, and she functioned as a facultative anaerobe. He attacked her as she recovered, but she was able to fight back. She dodged his blade and struck him. Her body burned from the buildup of lactic acid, but she defended herself as he assaulted her.

Caliginous stepped back and out of Melissa’s reach. She watched him to anticipate his next move, but her head began to hurt. It felt just like the first time she had been stabbed, lost a lot of blood, and her brain began to die. She felt the desperation of it again trying to keep itself alive. The pain intensified as she felt like the fluids were being squeezed out of her head.

Melissa could not stand what she felt. She grabbed a chain around her neck and pulled it until it broke. It was the necklace she used to keep the white jewel close. She threw it to Caliginous’ feet.

The pain stopped. Melissa gasped as the air returning to the tunnel filled her lungs. She kneeled on the floor as Caliginous walked away. She looked at her hands and watched as they aged. Her eyesight became blurry. She felt her lower back spasm.

Melissa was intelligent. She always figured out a way to get what she wanted. That time, Caliginous had caught her by surprise. In the future, she would be prepared for him. In fact; she planned to hunt him, get her jewel back, and make him pay for the pain she had felt.

© 2017 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Finding the Gray Living Jewel 

3x2
Eduardo Suré; Brian Throwing Rock, 2017; Watercolor

Pahrump, Nevada

At the neglected parking lot of an abandoned shopping center, one man handed a car key to another and said, “You have enough explosives in that trunk to collapse the entire opening to the mountain. Remember, all of the workers leave for lunch at the same time per their Union’s contract. Blow it then, and they’ll be too scared to come back to work. That’ll give you some breathing room to set up to tie the company up in court. No one will be putting radioactive waste in your backyard for a long time.”

 

Las Vegas, Nevada

“Look at this,” Brian Wilson said gesturing toward the beautiful art on display, the lavish food and drink being served, and the high-class guests conversing with each other. “It isn’t fair.”

“Your parents do love you, Brian,” Helen said.

“If they loved me, they would help me,” Brian said. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back in the chair. “They just invite me to these things so they can shove their wealth in my face.”

“Your parents hosted this party to support local artists,” Helen said. “I grew up with your parents, as you know, and they have never shoved their wealth in anyone’s face.”

“Well, they do in mine,” Brian said.

“They invited you because they wanted to see you,” Helen said.

“That’s not their only reason. They have a specific purpose for everything,” Brian said. “I bet they hoped I would network.”

“It is a good opportunity. Everyone here is interested in art, and you are a wonderful artist,” Helen said.

“I’m not an artist anymore,” Brian said. “I’m just an iron worker thanks to them.”

“Your parents want you to own your achievements. You must be both an artist and a businessman if you want wealth,” Helen said. “They want you to learn tenacity and build what you have from your own hard work.”

“Structural steel work is hard work,” Brian said. “And what has it gotten me? While they’re in museums having champagne, I’m sweating under a mountain. They’re building art collections as I’m building a waste storage facility.”

Helen leaned toward Brian. “Is the company you work for building the radioactive waste repository?” she asked.

“Yes,” Brian answered. “I’m not even contributing to anything anyone will ever see. After we’ve finished, they’ll fill it with waste. No human will go near it for hundreds of thousands of years.”

“Hundreds of thousands of years?” Helen whispered to herself. Brian stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.

“It was nice seeing you again, Helen,” Brian said as he leaned down to embrace her.

“Please wait for a moment, Brian,” Helen said. Brian sat back down at the edge of his seat and observed Helen’s face. She was the same age as his parents, but her face was younger. Her clothing and makeup encouraged observers to estimate her age to be nearer to that of his parents. “I need to ask something of you.”

“Anything I can do,” Brian said.

Helen looked around the room, lowered her voice, and said, “I need you to bury something in that facility for me.”

“What is it?” Brian asked after leaning closer to Helen.

“Nothing at all to anyone, but me,” Helen said. “It’s just something in a little jewelry box I don’t want anyone to find. Ever. I want you to bury it in that facility.”

“Certainly, Helen,” Brian said. “I can pick it up tomorrow on my way back to the valley.”

“No need for you to go out of your way,” Helen said. “I have it with me.” She opened her purse and took out a small jewelry box. She paused to look at it, took a deep breath, and offered it to Brian. He took the box from her and tried to open it. “I’ve sealed it shut. Kindly do not open it.” He watched her and waited for more information. “Allow an old woman her secrets, Brian. Would you please do this for me?”

“Consider it done,” Brian said.

 

Amargosa Valley, Nevada

On Monday, Brian took Helen’s jewelry box with him to work. He kept it in his pocket. All morning, he noted places where he might hide the box when his coworkers were not looking. His best idea was to tuck the box in a gap between the steel reinforcement he had installed and the wall. Later, it would be sealed in with concrete. No one would ever find it.

“C’mon, Brian. It’s lunchtime!” Brian’s coworker shouted.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Brian shouted back.

“You better not be workin’ overtime!” the worker joked.

“Who, me?” Brian shouted. “I just need to put my tools away so I don’t lose them again!”

Brian gathered and arranged his tools as workers made their way out of the facility for their lunch break. Once everyone was out of sight, he took the jewelry box out of his pocket. He tried to shove it into the largest gap he had found, but the box was too wide. He pulled a knife out of his tool belt and tried to cut the glue that kept the box closed, but Helen had done a thorough job sealing it. He then tried to force the box open with a screwdriver. He broke the hinges, but opened the box.

Inside the box, there was a gray gemstone. It was the size and shape of a small piece of chocolate, but as smooth as glass. Brian tried to grasp it, but his work gloves were too thick. He tipped the box over so the jewel would fall out and into his hand, but it would not. So, he took his gloves off and grasped the stone with his fingers. It took a lot of finger force, but he was able to pinch it out.

As Brian looked closely at the stone, he heard an explosion at the entrance to the facility. He dropped to the ground and covered his face as a cloud of dust rushed toward him. He could not see, but he heard the side of the mountain crumble down.

Brian stayed on the ground until the rumbling sound stopped and the cloud of dust cleared. The generators near him worked, so he was able to see around him. Everything by the entrance was destroyed, so the front of the facility was obscured by darkness.

Brian stood up. He walked carefully toward the entrance. The further he was from the light, the slower he walked. He continued forward until he stepped on stone and debris. He saw the entrance collapsed. He was trapped.

“Help!” Brian yelled. The sound of his voice was swallowed by the rubble and a faint echo mocked him from the deeper parts of the cavernous facility. He growled and kicked a nearby boulder with his steel toed boot. The stone flew as if was hit by a sledgehammer. He wrinkled his brow, tucked his head back, and asked himself, “What?”

Brian looked into his hand as if he did not remember what he was clutching. He saw that he had held the jewel since the explosion. He put it in his pocket to free his hands. Then, he scanned the rubble until he found a stone similar in size to the one he had kicked. He bent down to pick up the stone, and found that it was quite heavy. He dropped it on the ground, wrinkled his brow, and stared at it.

After a minute, Brian pulled the jewel out of his pocket. He transferred it from his right hand to his left hand and held it. Then, he bent down and picked up the rock he had dropped. It was much lighter. He studied it, and then crushed it with his hand like it was just a cracker. He picked up another large stone and threw it as if it weighed nothing. Then he picked up and threw another and another and another. He began to laugh as he did it.

Brian walked up to a boulder larger than the grasp of his hand. He looked at the jewel in his hand and, after some hesitation, put it into his mouth. He bent down to pick up a boulder the size of a backpack. As he applied force to lift it, the muscles in his arms and core grew larger. He dropped the rock and examined his muscles. After the shock diminished, he approached a boulder that was the size of a large suitcase. When he applied force to lift it, the muscles he used grew. His clothing ripped around his arms and other places where the muscles grew. He picked up the boulder and threw it easily.

Brian cheered and began to dig his way out of the cave. Then, he stopped. He spit the jewel out of his mouth and into his hand. When he placed it in his pocket, his muscles became normal. He walked back to the light. As he walked, he picked up tools and other things that would be useful if someone were going to wait a long time to be rescued.

© 2017 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Failing to Win: My Second Short Story Competition 

mary at meeting - 2017 - 16x9 vanilla
Eduardo Suré; Mary at Meeting, 2017; Watercolor with Vanilla Filter

In July 2017, I submitted Mary’s Ten O’Clock as my entry for a second short story contest this year: the Sean O’Faolain Short Story Competition. I was not placed on the short list.

I can’t say I was surprised. I thought the story was funny, but not one that would win a competition. My family really liked it and suggested I enter, so I deferred to their opinion.

It was fun to enter, hope, and experience real life suspense. I plan to submit short stories to a few contests every year.

Finding the Purple Living Jewel 

amanda and smell - 2017 - 3x2
Eduardo Suré; Amanda and Smell, 2017; Watercolor
Amanda Miller did not expect to make discoveries in lost luggage. The task of looking through suitcases was to her like looking obsessively through a stranger’s laundry basket. Her job was to catalog everything. She handled every smelly article of clothing in the suitcase. If she found something valuable, she was not allowed to keep it. The administration had to hold it for ninety days to give the owner a chance to claim it. After that, it went to auction. The most she could hope for was to find something suspicious to investigate or something ridiculous to tell her colleagues about.

Inspecting lost luggage was not all Amanda did at that job, but she felt she did it more often than her coworkers. She did not like to be alone, wearing an immaculate blue uniform no one could admire, and exhibiting professionalism no one could judge. She wanted to be with her colleagues among the flying public. She chose to be an agent so she could catch criminals and terrorists before they could do harm; not to spend time alone with suitcases meticulously cataloging skid marked briefs, toiletry items, and smelly shoes.

Amanda selected a silver suitcase from a group by the entrance to the room. The suitcase’s shell was gray and made with an unusual metal with no branding labels or factory markings. It was small enough to carry on, so its former owner must have been forced to check it in just before boarding the aircraft. He or she must have been livid when the airline told him they lost it.

The suitcase was locked. It was a common lock, but one that was exceptionally well made. It gave her so much trouble, she almost gave up trying to open it. The suitcase was unusual and that added to her usual tenacity. After a long while and after breaking the lock, she succeeded in opening it.

The contents of the suitcase were not unexpected. There were two days of worth of men’s clothing in it. They were of fine quality, but she had seen rich people’s clothing before. The toiletries were exceptional. The deodorant, lotion, aftershave, and hair product appeared handmade.

Amanda knew better than to stop examining the suitcase after it was empty. She slowly and carefully felt around all of the edges for hidden compartments. When she felt an unusual bump with her finger tip, she pressed it. It did not move, so she pushed it sideways in every direction. When she pushed it horizontally from right to left, it moved and clicked. The fabric inside of the suitcase separated from the shell and fell forward to reveal a box.

The box attached to the inner shell was made from the same gray material as the shell. Amanda felt around it for a button that would open it, but it did not have one. She pressed the top down to see if it would spring back and pop off, but it did not. She thought it might unscrew and open, so she grasped the top and twisted so hard that she tore some of her glove’s fingertips. She grasped the bottom of the box and squeezed it. When she did, a side popped out revealing a small lever. When she pulled on the lever, the top came off.

Inside of the gray box, there was a purple jewel held in place by a customized frame. The jewel appeared to be in a raw form. It had smooth surfaces that looked like crystal, and rough surfaces that looked like stone. Amanda thought it looked like alexandrite. The jewel was opaque where it was smoothest; but she could see through a lighter surface layer and a slightly darker inner layer to a very dark purple core.

Amanda reached out to remove the jewel. Because her glove was torn at the fingertip, her skin made contact with the jewel’s surface. The color of the jewel exploded in her eyes. She gasped from being startled. As she drew in breath, she tasted the room: the dust in the air, musty suitcase shells, and chemicals used to clean the room. She closed her mouth, but her sense of smell was even stronger. She stopped breathing to keep the tastes out of her mouth and the smells out of her nose. When she did that, she noticed she could hear everything outside of the room as if there were no walls. She heard people walking and talking, public announcements, and even aircraft engines as they approached their gates. She removed her hand from the jewel so she could cover her ears. It all stopped.

After the bombardment of Amanda’s senses ended, she opened her eyes. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. She looked closely at the jewel for any sign that it could be special: a light, a haze, vibration – anything. It just sat quietly in its mold looking harmless. But just as it is easy to identify the object that burned you, she knew it was the jewel that made her senses go berserk.

Amanda felt that she should take the jewel to her supervisor. She took her torn glove off, discarded it, and put on a new one. She carefully reached out and touched the jewel gently. It had no effect. She grasped it firmly, pulled it out of its mold, and walked out the door toward the nearest security checkpoint.

Amanda had to work her way through crowds of people to get to the checkpoint. It was crowded, noisy, and bustling before and after the scanners. She approached a colleague and asked where she could find her supervisor. The agent answered that he was at another gate’s security checkpoint.

Amanda worked her way out of the crowd and briskly walked toward the next gate. She thought about what she would say to her supervisor. She wondered if she should tell him or show him what had happened. When she rehearsed what she would say in her mind, it sounded ridiculous. She thought about how embarrassed she would be if he touched it and it did not have the same effect on him that it did on her. She did not want him to think she had cracked under the pressure of the job.

Amanda looked at the jewel in her hand and stopped walking halfway to the other checkpoint. She wanted to make sure she had not imagined what she had felt. She put the stone in her pocket so her hands would be free to remove a gloves. Then, she reluctantly took off one glove. Next, she carefully reached into her pocket. When her fingertip made contact with the jewel; her senses were bombarded by the airport lights, sounds, and smells. She even felt the clothes on her body. She was overwhelmed until something caught her attention. An unusual, but recognizable, smell gave her focus. It was a scent she remembered from her training. She could tell it was coming from the direction of the security checkpoint where she was headed. She should not have been able to smell it, but she did. She smelled a bomb.

© 2017 EDUARDO SURÉ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED