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Category:
Science Fiction
Publisher: Three Notch Publishing
Type: Fiction
Pages: 20
Copyright: July 27, 2024
ISBN-13: 9798227249326
Price: FREE! (eBook)
A darkly humorous tale of one man's futile struggle against an alien-engineered time loop.
Noah's mornings always start the same: wake up, shower, eat, and head to work at Omni-Forge Industries. But something isn't right. Each day brings an increasing sense of dread and a gnawing suspicion that his routine hides a terrifying truth. As Noah struggles to break free from this seemingly endless cycle, he uncovers dark secrets about his world and the true nature of his existence. In this gripping tale of repetition and revelation, Noah must confront the horrifying reality behind his ordinary life and find a way to survive - if escape is even possible.
Excerpt
The alarm clock’s speakers shattered the blissful peace by blasting the chorus of Highway to Hell. Noah Vale needed the shock to wake up at 4:30 A.M. He stood up and stretched. For the last 10 years, it signaled another mundane day for Noah at Omni-Forge Industries. His wife of 15 years still laid there as the weather forecast began.
“Lauren, get up or I’ll be late,” he said, finding her still in bed when he finished his morning routine.
“C’mon, I got ten minutes left.” He gathered his things to leave. Lauren got up and made breakfast. Noah sat down to eat. “Great! You burned the toast again.” He dipped his toast in the eggs and discovered raw egg white, “and you didn’t cook the eggs enough, either.”
“If you can do better, then you are free to make your own breakfast,” she said, as if reading a script.
He complained every morning, and she always retorted.
Lauren poured some java and sat at the table in their tiny row-house kitchen. “I need money for groceries.”
Noah opened his billfold and handed her a twenty. She stared at the bill. He hesitated and reached into his wallet again.
“That’s more like it.” She took a sip of her coffee and stood up. He gathered his tan jacket and metal lunchbox. Lauren walked over to him, looked him in the eyes, and their lips met.
“I gotta go or I’ll miss my bus.”
“I love you. Be careful,” and she let him escape from her arms. He turned and went out the door.
Streetlights cast irregular shadows as the chilly breeze scattered the colorful leaves down the sidewalk.
I’m on time. Everybody is still there.
The regular 5:30 group gathered under the small shelter. As traffic on Chestnut Street picked up, the bus arrived amidst exhaust fumes and sarcastic comments about finding a seat.
The driver pulled up, almost dousing everyone as it emptied a nearby mud puddle. The doors opened and the waiting riders entered, throwing their fares into the coin catcher.
Unable to find a seat, Noah took his usual standing spot by the exit, squeezing past the other passengers. At the third station, he exited and descended into the subway.
He pushed his way through the gathered herd. Announcements blared, and a train stopped for people traveling in the other direction. The crowd thinned, and he positioned himself where his car would stop.
A minute later, the #13 arrived with singing wheels and brakes. The commuters rushed the wide doors and filed in. Noah grabbed his pole, since riders from previous stations occupied the seats. Just two stops and a single block away from work. Half the car’s passengers abandoned the subway at the first stop and Noah sat for the last leg of his ride.
He followed the lemmings through the open doors and up the escalators. Few chatted, knowing what the day held for them. Every day was identical. Head to the lockers. Don the greasy aprons. Meander to your stations. The smell of grease, paint, cutting oil and its fumes, and dirt was ever present. The plant’s interior resembled a gloomy dungeon. Marcus found his station and relieved the operator from the night shift.
The punch press droned amidst the chorus of competing machinery. The finished metal fell into the yellow bin on a pallet. Noah checked the coolant lines. Nearby, lathes and milling machines filled the air with an oily scent. He popped the orange flag out, signaling the forklift driver as his container neared capacity.
An eerie whistle overtook the cacophony of machinery. The floor vibrated. “Hey George,” he called to the fellow at the machine beside him, “what’s your take on that?” The whistling grew louder and louder until everyone took notice.
“I’m not sure,” as he pointed, “but look.” Noah observed a worried supervisor approaching fast, with dread on his face. Noah looked at everybody around him and perceived fear on their faces.
The floor trembled like an earthquake. In his last moments, he witnessed debris flying, the foreman tumbling, and workers crashing into machinery. The sound was deafening and the flash blinding.
Silence and blackness ensued.
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