[WARNING: Strong language and violence] 

Dr. Night had offered to drive Laura out to Hollywood to pick up their car. It was after six o'clock and the parking lot was near empty. He let her out and she told him goodbye.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, Laura?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks. I appreciate your coming to see me.”

“Any time. Call me, day or night.”

“I feel bad keeping you busy all day, though.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m glad to help however I can.”

“All the same, I’d like to do something for you. Can I take you out to dinner, maybe? There’s a place down the road that Mark liked to go…”

“Well, all right, if that’ll make you feel better. Lead the way.”

Laura got in her blue Suzuki and drove out of the parking lot, Dr. Night following close behind. They drove down the small road to the city’s lone traffic light. They pulled into the parking lot on the left, which contained a couple of stores and a gas station. She pulled up to the KVLH diner and walked inside. The diner had an order counter and kitchen on the left and eight tables in the main room. Laura sat at one in the corner and Dr. Night came in and sat next to her.

The waitress, an older black woman, approached their table. “Welcome, y’all. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” said Laura.

“Can I get a Yuengling?”

“We don’t have a liquor license, hun.”

“Oh- sorry, um, sweet tea, then?” She nodded and walked off. Laura and Dr. Night opened the menus and looked through them. Laura started to wonder if this was a mistake- she found herself remembering what Mark liked to order. She’d never been in the restaurant, but she knew the food. From her seat, she could see a security monitor cycling through various shots of the building. The screen now showed a young black man walking through the parking lot, but not in a straight line. He would walk a few steps in one direction, stop and look up, then walk a few more steps. Maybe he was high. Laura was thinking about chicken wings-

“Can you excuse me for a moment?” She looked up and noticed Dr. Night looked sweaty again, and his hand was twitching.

“Are you all right?”

“No, I’m fine; I just need to take care of something.” He got up and walked quickly out of the building. Laura shrugged and turned her attention back to the menu.

“You ready to order, sweetheart?” Laura looked up at the waitress/cook and noticed two empty glasses had been set down next to her. She saw there was a soda fountain in the back of the restaurant.

“No, my friend- I guess he needs a little more time.”

“All right, take your time. Call me when you’re ready.”

The waitress left and Laura heard the door open. She turned to look, but it wasn’t Dr. Night. The man who’d been wandering the parking lot was standing in the doorway, his head tilted up. Laura thought he was sniffing the air. He smiled and sat down at a table across from Laura, but back enough so she could see him looking ahead. Laura resumed looking at the menu, but when she glanced up, she saw the stranger looking her way. His head turned quickly, but he kept smiling.

Laura got up and walked to the back. She filled up her glass with ice and Diet Coke, and then set it down. She should wash her hands. She didn’t want to leave her drink out, though, especially with that guy watching her. She turned around to look-

“Shh.” He pressed her against the wall, pushing his left arm against her, pinning her arms to her chest. His right hand covered her mouth.  "Don’t fight it- that’ll just make things harder.” Laura tried to run forward, but he had his leg behind hers so she couldn’t move it. She pushed her arms outward against his, but his grip was like iron. “Ooh, you’re hard. A lot tougher than your husband- and you smell better, too.” Laura felt herself burning with anger, and she bit at the man’s hand. “Ow, you cracka bitch, watch it! I wanted to make this easy.” He leaned his mouth towards her neck-

“What the hell is this?” The waitress ran over to her, and the man backhanded her so hard she flew across the room. Laura took the split second and rammed the palm of her hand into his nose. He fell back and lost his grip, and she ran forward and kneed him in the groin. As he staggered she punched at his gut, but he knocked her arm away with his, spinning her around.

“All right, fuck being quick. Your cunt ass is gonna fuckin’ hurt for that. Let’s go.” He grabbed her from behind in a headlock and pulled roughly on her long hair, dragging her through the kitchen towards the back door. Then suddenly she was loose, and had to cartwheel her arms to catch her balance. She spun around and saw two other people who appeared to be fighting him, but they were moving too fast for her to see.

“Laura?” Dr. Night ran back in the building as she walked out of the kitchen. “Laura, are you all right? What happened?”

“I’m fine, but call 911. She looks bad.” She got down on the floor and looked at the woman to find injuries. As she looked up at Dr. Night, she noticed an open beer can in his hand.

When I was fifteen, my parents were victims of the terrorist attack on Alacrin City.

You've never heard of Alacrin City, of course.  It's a huge metropolis in the Western Nations on the planet Jurgo.  During a peace conference about banning chemical weapons, the city was attacked with weaponized nerve gas.  Ironic, no?  Allen Jerno, one of the terrorists' leaders, always had a sick since of humor.  Part of the reason for the attack was that they were in league with the Ghent Empire, who wanted to be sure the other nations were divided and chaotic.  But there was another reason.

Buried across Jurgo were artifacts of enormous magical power.  Under Alacrin City they found a diamond the size of your fist with the ability to manipulate gravity.  I managed to follow them down there and steal the diamond away, and suddenly I was thrust into the middle of a war.  Allen and I would cross paths many times in the race to claim the artifacts.  In addition to the diamond, there was a wooden wand that shot deadly energy beams, vials of dust that had alchemical effects when used, and a wooden stump that would allow you to teleport.  There may have been others as well, but I'll have to tell you about that later.

The war was intense.  The Ghent Empire was run by a cult of religious fanatics worshipping a long-hidden demi-god.  My own Gobon Republic was a tolerant, accepting place with a whole range of beliefs.  We were founded on reason and coexistence, when a great prophet two hundred years ago led an awakening, proclaiming that all peoples and beliefs were meant to live in harmony.  But while it was a wonderful place to live, I discovered our nation had its own dark side.  An arrogant country that is sure it is right all the time often takes to forcing its beliefs on others, and many of the smaller nations came to resent being pawns in our war.  Some gladly accepted the rule of the Ghent in exchange for a certain amount of internal autonomy.

The Magic Wars, as they came to be known, lasted many years.  I made friends and enemies along the way, and discovered secrets that had been buried for centuries.  Under Alacrin City we found a waterfall that falls up!  The diamond, having been buried there so long, had affected the local gravity.  On the Emakan Islands we found people whose bodies had taken the shape of reptiles.  In Dominia, far to the north, we discovered a pocket watch that could stop time.  No, I should say it slows time to the point where it seems to be stopped, but always moves slightly.  My friend Jeremiah is a scientist and insists I explain these things as clearly as possible- "the ratio of local time to a fixed external frame of reference can approach zero asymptotically," he would say.  I kind of understand what that means, but not very well.

When the wars ended, I eventually found myself transported to Earth.  That is again a story for another day.  On Earth, I'm known as Jacob Merner.  It was an attempt to interpret my name back home, since we obviously didn't speak English.  I was born with a female name, but when I realized I was male I chose a name whose origin had to do with fighting.  So on Earth I chose the name "Jacob," since it means "one who wrestles with God."  I hope that's not arrogant, but I've certainly struggled a lot in my young life.  You wouldn't recognize me as an alien if you saw me.  I am a human in every way.  Jeremiah insists it can't be a coincidence, and theorizes that some advanced alien race engineered our DNA to match as part of some grand experiment.  So I look like a native Earthling, but online I can remember my true origin.  I am a man from the planet Jurgo, so I call myself Jurgan.

*All of this was basically a pitch for a series of stories I've had in my mind in some form since 1992.  I'm finally putting them to paper, and they seem to be take the form of a young adult novel series.  Hope you enjoyed reading.*

“Wench! Come, please your king!” King Leon held up a gold piece, and one of the many scantily clad women came to his throne. Giggling, she sat in his lap and stroked his second chin.

“Your highness, please,” said Gideon, rubbing his temples. “Surely, some decorum must prevail in the throne room.”

“Gideon, lad, no one knows politics better than you, but you really must learn to enjoy the finer things in life. Drink with me!”

“I don’t drink, your highness, you know that. Spirits have destroyed more lives than war and plague combined. You allow vice to roam the streets. Prostitution, liquor, and gambling are a cancer on this land. They must be rooted out before they tear us asunder.”

“Balderdash, I say. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.”

“The Lord says otherwise, your highness. First Corinthians, 15:32. Paul tells us that what you say is for fools who deny the resurrection and the power of the Lord.”

“Careful, Gideon.” Leon’s voice was suddenly harsh. “Calling your king a fool skates close to treason.” Gideon felt his heart speed up, but then Leon burst into laughter. “Hah, you should have seen your face! Relax, my boy, there’s no one I trust more than you.” Gideon smiled and tried not to think of the meeting he’d had last night.

“You can’t be serious, Gideon! If word of this got out, it would be both our heads!”

“This land is in danger, Marcus.” Gideon sat quietly in the lowest cell in the dungeon while Marcus paced about. “We can meet here safely only because the dungeon is near empty. Why do you think that is?  It’s because anything goes today. There is no morality at the top of the land, so there is no example for others to follow.”

“This kingdom is one I have devoted my life to, and that means I devote my life to the king who rules it.”

“This is a nation, but it is no kingdom. The fat slug who gives orders is not fit to be a king.”

“He is the king!” shouted Marcus. “He is our liege by divine right! If God wills you to be king, he will make it so. Remember, David did not kill Saul because only God had the right to do so.”

“Do you think my conscience untroubled, Marcus?” Gideon stopped a moment and said a quick prayer for wisdom. “I know that what I suggest is a great crime and a great sin. But it cannot be as great as allowing this rot to spread further. If you wish to compare scripture, remember that our Lord also denounced the corrupt Jews who were complicit with the evils of Rome.”

“Denounce, yes, but he didn’t murder them!”

“We live in a fallen world, my friend. If I could simply will away its evils, I would. Unfortunately, compromises are necessary. Are you with me or against me?”

“Gideon, you know I love and trust you like a brother, but I cannot be part of this. I’m sorry.”

Gideon bowed his head and felt tears coming. “I’m sorry too, my friend. I wish I had you by my side, but so be it.” He walked out of the cell and towards the stairs, where two elite guards were waiting. “He wouldn’t listen to reason,” Gideon whispered. “Make it quick.” The guards drew their swords and walked towards the cell, while Gideon ascended the stairs, finally allowing himself to cry.

“And now, my council, a toast!” Leon raised a glass as Gideon’s personal servant passed out goblets to the assorted nobles. “To our peace and prosperity! May it last a hundred generations!”

The court drank deep of the wine, and quickly all began to choke. The women jumped away and screamed. The elite guard drew their weapons and watched for any signs of resistance. One bodyguard ran towards Gideon and was struck down in an instant. Within two minutes, all of the nobles were dead.

“The reign of King Leon has reached its end,” announced Gideon. “His children’s throats are being slit as we speak. In the name of the Lord, I hereby proclaim myself King Gideon. Harlots, you will be allowed to leave, but know that you will receive no further mercy if you continue your lecherous ways. Spread the word far and wide: the body is a temple to the Lord. Any who defile the temple forfeit their right to live in it. Now be gone. I have much to do to restore this kingdom’s worth.”

In the days that followed, terror spread across the land. Drunkards were publicly hanged. Prostitutes were driven to poverty, having no way to earn their keep. Rebellious children, adulterers, and apostates were stoned to death, and some were killed by overzealous neighbors without even a trial. Many committed suicide rather than risk offending the new king. Humanity does not tolerate tyranny for long. To be slaves is against our nature. Yet it would be many a year before anyone in that sad land could ever again think themselves free.

“The worst government is often the most moral. One composed of cynics is often very tolerant and humane. But when fanatics are on top there is no limit to oppression.”

-H.L. Mencken

"Well, I am an ugly man."

"Oh, don't say things like that."  Sarah had always loved him, despite his many flaws.  John was a drunk, for one.  He lived outside a bar.  Who knows how he got food, but he slept every night under the day's newspapers.  The bartender was more generous than most.  He'd give him a drink in exchange for cleaning the bar at the end of the night.  John had had the police called on him in previous "establishments," so he was grateful to find one who put up with him.

"You'd think you'd have better things to do than come visit an old man every couple days.  Why haven't you found a nice boy yet?  Or a nice girl, for that matter?"

"You took care of me for years, dad.  It's only right that I do it for you."

"Bullshit.  I'm not your responsibility."

"Yes you are.  I told you I have an extra room-"

"I'm not taking any charity, Sarah.  It's not who I am."

"You're a stubborn old coot, is what you are.  The fire wasn't your fault, and you know that."

"Your mother told me not to smoke in bed.  If I'd listened to her, she'd still be here today.  And don't even think of telling me not to blame myself; I'll do that until the day I die."

"Don't I know it."  Sarah sighed deeply.  "Why do you do this to yourself?  You let your whole life be defined by one mistake."

"That's how the world works.  They say everyone gets a second chance.  Bullshit.  It's like McGregor the goat-"

"I know the joke, dad.  But I'm giving you another chance."

"The world doesn't care.  You can live a perfect life for decades, but you mess up once and it never forgives you.  If I'm very lucky, maybe there's a God above and he'll give me a second chance in the afterlife.  But I wouldn't count on it."

"Will you at least check into the shelter tonight?  It's going to get down in the 20's."

John pushed himself up.  "All right, baby, I'll do it for you.  Give me a ride.  But only if you promise me that you'll go out and have fun tonight."

"Okay, dad, it's a deal."

"Love you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, I know.  Love you, too."

"I wish you didn't, but I guess you can't always get what you want."

*Thanks for this challenge, by the way.  I always paralyze myself on first drafts, so it's good practice to just cut loose and not overthink things.*

They say the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.  That's only half right.  The other half was convincing people they'd know me if they saw me.

Movies helped.  So did art.  You took some pagan goat demons, painted them bright red, and thought that was me, because if you could see me then I was less scary.  The red was a nice touch.  It's like your stop signs- a bright warning that you couldn't possibly miss.  That way you think you know what to look for and don't realize I'm already whispering in your ear.

Jesus was different, of course.  He knew I was there, so there was no sense in trying to hide.  I flattered Him, tempted Him to use his power for a greater good, feeding the hungry and conquering the nations to rule with wisdom and mercy.  I knew that if He became a ruler, He'd then become a tyrant, and love would no longer be an option once He wielded power every day.  The boy didn't fall for it, of course.  I'm still not sure whether I'm angry or proud.

You're not like that, are you?  Ruling the world isn't an option you have to consider.  But there's something that tempts you.  Maybe you lift a few dollars from the cash register at work; you deserve a raise anyway.  Maybe you don't give the money you have to people who need it because they'll just throw it away.  Could be when you shut out the immigrant or the Samaritan, since you have to think of your own family first.  For the person typing this, it's a mixture of pride and anger which leads him to try to humiliate those who don't live up to his moral standards.  Whatever it is, I know it, and I'm the one who tells you it's okay.  You call me the King of Lies, but I don't lie to you.  I just help you lie to yourself.

There's a good chance you're reminding yourself that this is all fiction, that I'm not real.  As if that makes the slightest difference.  Maybe there is no intelligent active being called the devil, but I'm a part of your life whether you like it or not.  What if you were to have a conversation with the devil?  You do it every day.

"I've decided you need to move out by the end of the week."

Mary looked up from her book.  "Sorry, I missed that- what do I need to do this week?"

"Move out," Doris repeated.

Mary felt her stomach- or perhaps the child in her womb- jump.  "I don't understand.  Haven't I done what you asked?"

"I thought you'd only be here for a few weeks, but now that you've started showing...  My children are asking questions, wanting me to tell them why you're getting so big, how come you're having a baby if you're not married."

"Why not just tell them Joseph is the father?"

"It's not that simple."  Doris sighed as she picked up a plate Mary had left on the side table; Mary had been waiting until the current round of cramps died down to take it to the sink.  "I'm raising my kids to have good morals, and I'm worried you're setting a bad example."

"I see."  Mary wanted to start yelling, but she saw the two kids playing in the next room.  No sense upsetting them.

"You understand, I thought you'd have gone home by now."

"Joseph has to stay in town for work, you know that."

"Yet his 'work' still hasn't earned him enough to get an apartment for the two of you?"  Doris made air quotes at the word "work" and Mary fought down another scream.  "I am sorry to have to do this, Mary, but I just don't see any other way.  I'll be happy to give you a reference if your next landlord needs one."

"That won't be necessary, Doris, you've done enough."

Joseph paced in the small basement room as he took in the news.  "The end of the week.  So, four days, then."

"Five.  Remember, the week starts on Sunday for them."

"Five days.  What are we going to do, then?"

"We'll figure something out.  We always do."

Joseph laughed and shook his head.  "Ever the optimist.  But then you'd have to be, to deal with what you're going through.  She still thinks I'm the father, right?"

"Everyone does.  They'd think I'm crazy if I told them about the angel."

"I don't blame them.  Half the time, I think the whole thing's a delusion, or something happened with some guy you don't remember, even after the angel told me the same thing.  Well, the truth is, it doesn't matter.  I love you no matter what, and if you're having a baby then I want to help you raise it.  I'll be the step-father, I guess.  Still, I kind of wish the angel of the Lord had given you more of a choice."

"But he did."  Joseph stopped and looked over at her.  "I never told you that part?"

"All I remember was an angel telling you that you were going to have a baby.  You're saying you could have said no?"

"I'm not sure I could have.  I mean, he said that it was God's will, but that it wouldn't be done unless I were able to bear the burden.  But then, he must have known that I would say yes, or why ask in the first place?  But if he hadn't asked, and just done it, then I probably would have fought back, so...  It's kind of complicated, when you're talking about someone who knows everything: he knows how you think before you do, so how much choice do you really have?"

Joseph fell into the hard-backed chair in the corner.  "Five days.  And only two months left until the delivery.  What are we going to do?"

Mary walked over and gave him a hug.  "We'll think of something.  God never gives you more than you can handle."

"You sure about that?"

"Not exactly.  But I have faith.  God wants this done, so let it be.  We all have a role to play."

"I guess we do.  Yours is a lot clearer.  All I know about mine is I'm supposed to be with you."  He gave her a kiss and turned out the light as they went to bed.

        The strawberry bushes were bright green, and the red fruits shone after a summer rain. The field went for half a mile, with a dozen long rows. At the end was a small shack with a tin roof where the fruit was cleaned and packaged. Outside, fliers and order forms were hanging on an old telephone pole with sixteen notches carved in it.

        Susie had spent the better part of two hours worrying about the evening. Last time she had worn a dark blue dress with just enough cleavage (enough to show your interest, not enough to make him think you’re easy, as one of her fashion magazines put it) and a pair of high heels. She’d been dieting for the last few months to fit back into it- her goal weight was 140, and she was almost there. Her father had told her on her last visit home that she was gaining weight, and while he was pleased that she was doing well in her schoolwork, it was important to take care of her physical health, too. “Besides,” he’d told her, “your professors are men, and men can’t help think about your looks when they judge you.”

        Tonight wasn’t about a professor, though. She was dressing for Jeremy, a science major she shared two classes with. She had picked out a simple pair of jean shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt, in hopes that the more modest appearance would lower his interest. “He’s just… not my type, I guess,” she had told Becky at lunch last week.

        “‘Type’ is a social construct devised by Western society to perpetuate the aristocracy.”

        “Thank you, Dr. Evans,” she said, laughing at the poor impression of the aged sociology professor.

        “Seriously, though, hun, you are too picky. Just because you’re a gamma doesn’t mean you can only date frat guys. You heard about the girl at Eastern-”

        “I know, I know, but trust me, they’re not like that here. Tom’s rough around the edges, but he keeps the guys in line. No one gets away with roofies or any of that crap. Sure, there’s sex and drugs, but it’s all voluntary.”

        Becky rolled her eyes and swallowed the last bite of her BLT. “Susie Q, I love you, but you can be dense about the social world. It’s about appearances, not facts. You turn up your nose at every nice guy who asks you out but spend lots of time with those frat boys and you get a reputation. People start saying you’re stuck up, bitchy even.”

        “Someone called me bitchy?” Becky looked down at her plate. “Who was it?”

        “I’m not gonna tell you that, sorry. Still, why not give Jeremy a second chance? Who knows, maybe you’ll like him. He seems decent enough.”

        “We just didn’t get along. Things… well, something happened last time.”

        “He didn’t hit you, did he?” Becky sat forward suddenly, looking her straight in the eyes.

        “No, no, nothing like that. Just…”

        “If you ask me, Oasis can take any band you name today. Hands down.” Susie hoped that was the end of Jeremy’s extended polemic on classic British rock. He wore a thick pair of glasses and a button up shirt that looked too big for him. Susie ate quietly, wondering if his soup was getting cold.

        “I guess,” she said, gingerly removing an onion from her dinner salad.

        “I hope you have enough to eat. I’m sorry we had to settle for diner food, but my tutoring check won’t clear for another couple days.”

        “It’s fine, I like Pete’s.”

        “Then…” Jeremy started to breathe faster as he looked her up and down. “I’m talking too much again, aren’t I?”

        “Maybe… just a little.”

        “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just want this night to be perfect for you. I’ve been wanting to ask you out for over a month, you’re so beautiful, and so smart, and I saw you doodling the Rolling Stones logo in your notes the other day- you doodle a lot in class, you know, it’s pretty good- so I thought since we like the same kind of music, we have something in common-”

        “Jeremy: it’s okay. You don’t need to worry so much. We’re out together now, so just enjoy it.”

        “Right.” He took a deep breath. “Right, I’m sorry. I’m just not that good at talking to girls. They usually don’t like guys like me.”

        “You’re doing fine. You just need a little more confidence. Calm down, don’t panic so much. I’m enjoying myself, and so are you, so don’t worry about it.”

        “All right. Thanks. What- um, what do you do for fun?”

        “Well, you caught me drawing already. I sometimes- geez, I’ve never told anyone this- I draw webcomics.”

        “Get out!” he shouted, causing a few heads to turn. “Sorry,” he said, turning red. “I read a ton of webcomics. What’s it called?”

        “Oh, no way you’ve heard of it. It’s called ‘Many Lives,’ it’s mostly just random crap from school or stuff about TV shows.”

        “It sounds great. I’ll have to look it up.”

        “No, no, please don’t, I’m not ready for people to see it. I mean, I’m okay with strangers seeing it, but I don’t want someone I know to read it. It’s more for practice that publication.”

        “Too late, I already know the name! I can help you with it, if you want. And in return, I could show you something, too.”

        “What’s that?”

        “My special place. There’s this strawberry field out in the country my uncle owns, I like to go there when I need to relax. Maybe after we’re done here-”

        “Susie, is that you?” The two of them looked at the door to see a tall, muscular guy wearing a Slayer tank top and a tattoo on his right arm.

        “Tom, hey, what’s up?” Susie got up and turned to him, giving him a quick hug.

“I tried to call you earlier, but you weren’t answering your phone. I’ve been looking for you.”

        “Well, I’ve been right here. Oh, this is Jeremy.”

        “Hi,” said Tom, extending his hand. Jeremy tensely shook it, and Tom returned to Susie. “I thought you told me you were coming by the frat house tonight?”

        “Did I say that? Oh crap, it’s Thursday, isn’t it?” She dramatically slapped her forehead. “Scatterbrained Susie strikes again! Sorry to worry you.”

        “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe.” He stood quietly with her for a moment. “Oh, sorry, I should let you get back to your meal. Take care, Susie Q. Nice meeting you, Jeremy!” He walked out the restaurant and Susie sat back down.

        “You believe that jerk?”

        “Who, Tom?”

        “‘I was just worried about you.’” Jeremy deepened his voice in imitation of Tom.

        “What’s that mean? He’s a friend of mine.”

        “Bah! Please, he’s clearly just trying to get in your pants.”

        “Excuse me?”

        “Come on, you know guys like that only have one thing on their minds. Like you’d sleep with that creep.” Susie did not respond. “You… you didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

        “All right, back it up, Jeremy, you’re way over the line.”

        “Oh, my God, you did.”

        “It’s none of your business, thank you.”

        “You really gave it up to that dumb jock?”

        “He’s not a dumb jock; he got a B+ in Biz Calc last semester.”

        “Oh, he did well in Business math; well, call the leading research institutions, I’m sure they’ll want to offer him tenure right away.”

        “Okay, we’re done here.” Susie started to get up.

        “Right, go figure. You treat them nice, buy them food, show interest in their stuff, and they still run off with some jerk.” Susie looked at Jeremy, but he wasn’t looking back. It was like he was looking through her. His hand, still holding a soup spoon, was shaking involuntarily, and he bit his lip so hard blood started to trickle out. She left a ten-dollar bill on the table to cover her meal and walked out, keeping an eye on Jeremy the whole time.

        “Well, that’s somewhat less than pleasant,” said Becky. “But now you definitely have to go out with him.”

        “Say what?”

        “Think about it. If he starts telling people you slept with Tom but won’t give him a second chance, your reputation… well, you were already worried about coming off bitchy. Do you really want to be the stuck-up sorority girl everyone hates?”

        “What, you’re saying I let him blackmail me?”

        “Not blackmail, just a little interaction to grease the social wheels. Besides, you did kind of bring it on yourself. I mean, hugging another guy on a date? Telling him you slept with him?”

        “I didn’t bring that up; he asked me, which he never should have done.”

        “You couldn’t have lied?”

        “He just… right there at the end, he was just so creepy. Like… I don’t even know what he could have been thinking.”

        “You’re probably exaggerating. Too many of those crime shows you watch. Look, just go on one date with him, keep the peace, and if things still don’t go well, you can quietly break it off in a way that won’t embarrass him too much. You can’t mess with a guy’s dignity, though. Reputation’s a big deal for them, too.”

        And so it was that she was now putting the finishing touches on her make-up. The trick, of course, was getting it so that it looked good but still natural. Any minute the phone should ring, and she’d head down to meet him.

        “I’m so glad you gave me another chance,” said Jeremy, cutting through traffic at ten miles over the speed limit. “We’re gonna have a great time, I swear.”

        “Good, good.” She looked out the window at the bright, leafy trees and watched the sun setting.

        “Yes, ma’am, I’ve got something special to show you. Oh, I loved that webcomic of yours.”

        “I asked you not to look at that.”

        “I know, but I couldn’t resist. It’s really good. I kind of wish the guy had more to do, though- almost all the characters are women.”

        “Well, yeah, that was on purpose. There are plenty of comics with mostly guys, so I wanted to balance it a bit.”

        “I get that, but isn’t that just reverse sexism?”

        “I don’t think so; sexism is about cultural power, not just counting characters in a comic.”

        “No it’s not. Sexism means discriminating based on what gender people are. If you ask me, women actually have it easier today- you don’t have to fill out selective service forms or any of that.”

        Susie took a deep breath, and reminded herself not to mention her art projects in the future. “So, where are we going?”

        “Like I said, my uncle’s farm. He’s a nice guy, and he lets me hang out here when I like. All I have to do in return is make sure to water and fertilize the crops when necessary. He trusts me a lot, and it’s good to get away from the city and decompress. Here we go, exit 118.” They pulled off the interstate and drove a couple miles listening to the radio (Blue Oyster Cult was playing), then turned onto a dirt road.

        They drove on it for another mile or two until they saw a field on the left. The strawberry bushes were bright green, and the red fruits shone after a summer rain. The field went for half a mile, with a dozen long rows. At the end was a small shack with a tin roof where the fruit was cleaned and packaged. Outside, fliers and order forms were hanging on an old telephone pole with sixteen notches carved in it.

        “Here we are.” Jeremy opened the door and let Susie out. The air had a nice smell to it. She couldn’t place it, having lived in the city all her life, but it was probably a mix of the strawberries and wind coming off the mountains. Jeremy opened the trunk of his car and produced a wicker picnic basket. “I hope you have an appetite; I brought a lot of food. Sorry, but I’m a pretty good cook, and I couldn’t resist overpreparing.” He laid out a blanket and the two of them sat down, Jeremy splitting the food up. There were several French baguettes with what appeared to be home cooked roast beef and deli mustard. There was also a potato salad (she hated potato salad, but forced it down anyway) and a white wine she couldn’t pronounce. Plus, not surprisingly, a bowl of strawberries.

        “From here, I presume?”

        “Yes, I picked them yesterday. I thought about just picking them when we got here, but I wanted to make sure they were clean and pest-free.”

        “Well, it was very nice, Jeremy. You’re right, you are a pretty good cook. Is it hot to you?”

        “I don’t know, it is summer.”

        “Yeah, yeah, but just now… I think the breeze must be dying down.”

        “That’s probably it. Come on, let me show you inside.”

        “Um, okay.” She reached up to take his hand, and as she stood she felt suddenly light-headed. A wave of nausea overtook her. She had eaten too fast, and she forced herself to breathe deeply until her stomach calmed. No doubt Jeremy would take throwing up his food as a serious insult.

        He led her by the hand into the shack, catching her when she tripped on a root sticking out of the ground. “Oof, you’re so heavy!” He opened the door to the shack and led her in, flipping on a light switch. A dim bulb in the ceiling lit the small, dingy room. In the corner was a large bed with plastic sheets on it. She followed him and fell down on the bed.

        “You’re an odd little girl, Penny.”

        “My name’s Susie, you know that, Tom,” she muttered. She was starting to feel tired- the food was pretty heavy on her stomach.

        “It’s not Tom, darling, it’s Jeremy. But it’s okay, I forgive you for what you did with him.”

        “What’d I do?”

        “Why, giving it away like it’s nothing. Lucy, dear Lucy, you can’t be doing that. You know I was born with a jealous mind. It’s okay, though, it’s my turn now.”

        Susie’s eyes shot open. “Hold on, there, I didn’t agree to anything!” She sat up and immediately felt the nausea again, and was helplessly pushed back with one hand.

        “You need to relax, Pam. Nothing here is real- it’s like Vegas, you know?”

        “Nothing is going to happen here, Jeremy!”

        “Mm, I think I disagree.” She heard his pants unzipping and fought to sit up, but it was no use. Her head was swimming and her vision swirling. The last thing she saw before blacking out completely was a bloody meat cleaver on a table in the corner.

        “This year’s crop is turning out pretty good,” said Uncle Jack, looking over the strawberry field. “Yep, pretty damn good, I’d say. I knew I was right to trust you, Jeremy; tell your mother I said so.”

        “Thanks, Uncle Jack. Of course, you did most of the work.”

        “Bull. You helped me plant these, you water them, you fertilize them- when’s the last time you did that, by the way?”

        “Oh, just a couple of days ago.”

        “Odd, I don’t see any.”

        “That’s cause it’s from animal waste- you have to bury it, not just lay it out.”

        “How much does it take?”

        “Well, the last batch was just shy of one hundred fifty pounds.”

        “Nice job. I’ve never worked with that stuff, but if you say it works, I trust you. Of course, you shouldn’t be working all the time. A boy your age needs to have a social life.”

        “I have my hobbies, but you know girls don’t much care for guys like me. I’m not exactly Mister Popular, after all.”

        “Nonsense, my boy. It’s all about your attitude. You just have to be persistent- don’t take no for an answer.”

        “Will do, Uncle Jack.”

        Jack smiled. He was a good boy, after all, and he had done a job with this place. The strawberry bushes were bright green, and the red fruits shone after a summer rain. The field went for half a mile, with a dozen long rows. At the end was a small shack with a tin roof where the fruit was cleaned and packaged. Outside, fliers and order forms were hanging on an old telephone pole with seventeen notches carved in it.