The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 7

"Please...speak to me." Arthur desperately groaned inside a compacted and cold, dark room.

His long legs were nearly touching his chin. The man could see faint traces of his breath every time he breathed in and out. The air inside his dwelling was thin and vapid. Just making the slightest move was a strenuous ordeal. But within all and such rancor, the man persisted in talking; he kept on and on incessantly beseeching until his throat began to go dry.

Arthur could see his hands within the scant light that dared to creep in through various apertures inside his compartment. In his eyes they appeared more like alien appendages than his own body parts. For the first time in his life he didn't even recognize either of them.

"I call upon thee, my lord. Come to me and—

"Why do you call upon me?" The voice sounded annoyed.

Arthur's attention at that very second lit up with the exuberance of a child's wonderment. Forgetting that he was inside such a tiny containment, the man attempted to sit up only to bump the top of his head against the ceiling.

"I...I call upon you for aid." He stretched out his arms as far as he could. "I call upon you for strength; I long to feel its power in my veins once more."

"But I once granted you aid and strength, and you perverted it." The voice calmly uttered.

"But someting happened."

For a few moments it was totally silent, and then the voice said, "You failed me. You and your sister."

"But it was not my fault." Arthur implored. "Am I to be blamed for dis?"

"You failed in your efforts. Besides...I have another charge in mind."

"Please, grant me another opportunity!" He grieved. "Please, do not pass me by!"

"And just why should I do such a thing? Especially after I made you a god?"

Arthur sat and pondered for something rational to say that would hopefully appease his master. "I...I shall not fail thee again."

All of them have been eliminated. I made

me, your favorite son, another chance." He pleaded. "I am worthy. I have served thee for years. I have delivered

gave me that

"Then send me back to her home, and

homeland." The voice cut him

just lost all semblance of hope. The man dropped his hands as his stomach

are you willing to

urgently replied, "Anyting, my lord! I am and always have been your beloved servant! I shall dispatch of

see his fate soon. Will you fail me

never fail my master again!

her to suffer

which Arthur was sitting. His eyes gawked all over, awaiting a voice, sign or signal, but after two whole minutes of waiting the man's body grew listless once more before the sound of heavy metal twisting and churning beside

to be a cell before dragging him across the massive deck of a cargo ship that was sailing out in

Arthur Bushard, wearing only a sleeveless undershirt and a pair of torn blue jeans

if he were in his mid to late seventies, while his black eyes could hardly adjust to the

who wore a black wool jacket and matching knit hat, wrapped a pair of handcuffs around Arthur's wrists before standing him perfectly still in front of a shut door. For the first time in years Arthur was cold. His beard was waving to and fro in the salty air. He could hardly keep from shaking on the deck of the ship. Every so often he would glance over at his captor who proceeded to knock on

of the room with studious stares on their faces as if they were ready to tear Arthur apart. But it was the captain who stood face to face with Arthur while carefully

"This is him?" Captain Howell

"Yes, sir," the

him, "So tell me, old timer, just how did you manage to get

second or two, Arthur replied, "I seek to go

The captain said out

his head, Arthur said, "I am a political refugee from de land of

back of Arthur's knees causing the man

this boat illegally, but you also killed and attempted to eat three of my crewmen; three good men who had families," the captain patiently explained. "You just happened to kill

Looking up at the captain, Arthur gasped,

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