This story is, well, different. Read on and you will see. Be warned it is a full length short story, not a short short like the others on the site, so you may want to save the page to read offline. Enjoy!
The Rescue
Darla walked down High St, her heels clicking a rapid beat, her normally pleasant
face marred by a frown. The cause of her distress was in her purse. It was a letter
she had received in yesterday's mail. She was threatened in no uncertain terms if
she continued researching her story on corruption in the city government. Darla shook her
head angrily. Many people saw her youth and beauty, in either admiration or envy.
No one saw the iron determination which lay underneath. the determination which had
driven her to solve her uncle's murder, and which set her on her present course of attempting
to expose the corrupted city officials.
So preoccupied was the young reporter that she failed to notice the ominous black
care which followed her a block behind. Suddenly the car roared up beside her and
three men jumped out. Before Darla could react she was bundled into the car and carried
off into traffic.
A blanket covered her head and she was shoved roughly down to the floor of the car.
A brutal hand tore her purse from her shoulder. Darla was thrown about as the car
weaved through traffic. Then she felt the tight turns which could only mean they
had entered a parking garage. it seemed that they drove in endless circles before the vehicle
came to a stop and Darla was unceremoniously tossed out of the car onto cold concrete.
She could see where the ramp led into the level, and could hear the screech of the
tires's still echoing in the gloomy space. As she tried to regain her feet she was
seized and thrown casually against a pillar.
"Boss wanted you snatched and brought here, but we are just a little early..." The
man in front of her would have made a gorilla nervous. Fortunately Darla wasn't a
gorilla, she kicked at his kneecap and connected solidly. It should have broken the
brute's leg, or at least his concentration. He didn't even grunt. Darla shrank against the
pillar behind her. It was ironic, but she was hoping the "Boss" would be early, whoever
he was. From the corner of her eye she saw the hand coming, and knew there was no
way she could avoid it. Her head slammed back and she was seeing a galaxy of stars.
Dimly she knew that another blow was coming, but she couldn't focus. Diving desperately
to her right Darla tried to bring her scattered thoughts into line.
The man in bright red pyjamas stepped out of the shadows. In one hand he held what
looked for all the world like a squirt gun.
"Now gentlemen, if you would please move away from the lady..." He was quite effectively
interrupted by a hail of bullets from for automatic pistols. Chips flew from the
cement block walls, but none of them seemed to touch the strange man. The thug who
had been enjoying a little brutalising of his helpless victim snatched her off the floor
and held her as a shield.
"Back off bub, or I blow the lady's head off." Darla felt the cold of the gun against
her ear. Red pyjamas aimed his squirt gun at them. The end of the gun was solid green
plastic.
"This is too weird." Darla muttered. She would have laughed if it weren't for the
fact that red was going to get her killed. He squeezed the trigger and Darla felt
a cold pulse go through her. A gun went off and Darla screamed. She sat on the floor
and tried to find where she had been shot. The idiot in the pyjamas came over and offered
her his hand.
"You're OK, standard pulse shot." She shook her head and stood up, carefully ignoring
the hand. Behind her, big and ugly was lying on the floor a look of surprise on his
face. She imagined the same look was on her face. The others had split for the ramp.
Darla could hear their footsteps fading .
"Fido, come." Whispered the man. "We had better be moving on." He had an accent that
Darla couldn't place, Russian maybe. Dazed she followed him toward a door in the
wall at the other end of the garage. Halfway there squealing tires announced the
arrival of more cars.
"Yours or theirs?" She asked.
"Theirs" She tried to make a break for the door but he held her arm and forced her
to keep walking. Three cars screeched off the ramp and skidded to a stop. Men poured
out machine guns at the ready. Darla found herself pushed behind the guy in red.
Remembering the bullets missing him. She tried to make herself as small as possible.
"Fido, come, hurry." He muttered again. She giggled, this whole business was bizarre.
An annoying buzz filled her ears and she shook her head. Bad move, more stars.
"Give her to me and I may let you live." Darla knew that voice.
"He's lying." She whispered.
"Of course he is that's the way he is supposed to be." The buzzing had become a muffled
roar. Three of the men ran to the ramp to investigate. The man in the very expensive
suit waved his hand at the others and reached for his cigarette case. Gunfire filled the garage. She could feel the breeze from the bullets, but none so much as snagged
her blouse. Two men came tumbling down the ramp followed by a Harley with no rider.
The gunmen swivelled and fire. Glass, chrome and leather flew as it headed straight
for the cars.
"Fido, ice cream, ice cream, ice cream."
"Ice cream...?" Thought Darla, but there was no time to ask. The motorcycle exploded
into smoke and gas. She could still hear gunfire and choking thugs as the door closed
behind them.
"Damn," He slammed his fist into the door. "That was a mess."
"Hey," Darla grabbed his arm. "I don't understand. What is going on?" He just smiled
at her and shook his head.
"Polly, triangulate." He muttered.
"Who are you talking to?"
"Later. I'll explain everything. We have no time."
"No, you explain now. Who are you? What are you doing here?" She giggled. Why are
you wearing red pyjamas?"
"OK." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am Major Gayle Kinnetson, of
the Galactic Patrol, Sector Two, I am on an unauthorised rescue mission. The pyjamas
are some joker's idea of a uniform. And I am in love with you."
"You're insane, I have never seen you before." She could feel hysterical laughter
just below the surface, but she clamped down hard and stared at 'the Major' warily.
"No I am not insane, I have read your books."
"I haven't written any books, you have the wrong girl."
"Not books that you have written, books that you are in. I am from a different series
of books." Gayle pulled her into motion again and they started up the stairs.
"A character in a book" She giggled.. "A space hero named Gayle?" the hysteria moved
closer to the surface. To fight it off she put on her best reporter voice. "You had
better explain yourself.
"The name wasn't my choice I assure you. Our author thought it was amusing. Just as
he thought is amusing to make me aware that I was a character in a pulp magazine
space opera. the gimmick worked and the series continued on and on. I always won
but I was never getting anywhere. No matter what I did, everything went back to what it always
had been for the next book. So I started fighting him. I made my computer team into
real characters. He tried to force me to betray the Patrol. I almost got killed off
in that book. Sales dropped I guess because he gave up and started a new series. It began
with a tough P.I. and his niece. His name was Samuel Carruthers. Her name was Darla.
She was pretty, intelligent, and very determined. But the books weren't gritty enough. She was too naive, so he was going to put her through hell, until she was as
tough and mean as she use to be sweet. That's when I decided to rescue her. You."
"I, we're characters in a book?" Darla's legs felt like lead, and she gasped frantically
for breath. She notice resentfully that Gayle was barely breathing hard.
"No, like I said, we're from different books." He picked her up and began running
up the stairs. "Then how did you get into my life?" Wailed Darla. Her control popped
like a bubble and the hysteria tore out of her throat. It wasn't laughter, but it
wasn't quite tears either. While she was trying to figure it out the stars came back and
tricked into darkness.
* * * * * * *
She woke up lying on a couch in a small wood panelled room. Paper was strewn all over
the floor.
"Our author's study. I apologise. I didn't realise that taking you out of your plot
line would cause such a bad reaction. I have place you in permanent file of your
own. The author won't be able to find it. You're safe." He smiled and Darla thought
that he really wasn't bad looking once you got past those ridiculous red pyjamas, the uniform
she corrected herself.
"How do I know that I can trust you?"
"The author created me with an unswerving sense of honour."
"You are crazy, characters in a books, hah! I suppose you just followed when they
snatched me and stepped at the right moment." She laughed, and was pleased to note
that there was no edge of hysteria at all.
"Actually I read the book, and knew when I had to step in to rescue you. You see,
one day the author left his word processor on and I climbed out. I had always wanted
to see what his world was like. It is more like yours than mine. It was easy then
to program the computer to feed all his files into my ship computer. When I read his stories
about you I just fell in love."
She shook her head. To distract herself for a moment she picked up one of the books
and looked at the lurid cover. "The Case of the Bluefly" Her hand began shaking.
She opened it and skimmed through a few pages here and there. She turned pale. It
was all there, her hopes, her dreams, her most private thoughts. She threw the book across
the room. A paper on the floor caught her eye.
Darla walked down High Street, her heels clicking a rapid beat...
She read that page, then grabbed another. Each page was worse. She tore them up,
shredding them until she was surround in a gentle rain of confetti.
"The monster," she shrieked. "How could he do this to me?"
She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.
"We have to escape."
"How" Darla demanded.
"I can create an invisible file in the computer which we can get into but which the
author won't be able to find."
"Not my world. I never want to go back to... that."
"Not mine either." Gayle smiled. "What would you like to be?"
"I have always dreamed of being a princess in a fairy story." Whispered Darla shyly.
"Very well, then." He sat at the computer typed, his fingers a blur over the keyboard."
He straightened and turned back to her.
"Through that door is our new world. Are you ready?" He held out his hand.
"Yes, Gayle." She took his hand and hesitated. Then she opened the door.
They walked through into a fresh green world. The door vanished unnoticed behind them.
Off in the distance a castle's flags flapped in the breeze. Darla threw her arms
around Gayle and kissed him.
"It's wonderful! Thank you." For a moment Gayle Kinnetson, one time Major of the Galactic
Patrol, blushed the same colour as his uniform. Then he grinned and kissed her long
and passionately. Hand in hand they walked down the hill toward the castle.
* * * * * * *
... Hand in hand they walked down the hill toward the castle.
Fingers poised over the keys, the author hesitated, then hit the save key. He would
work on it some more tomorrow.
This story is, well, different. Read on and you will see. Be warned it is a full length short story, not a short short like the others on the site, so you may want to save the page to read offline. Enjoy!
