Bats on Fire

by Daniel Braum

Dusk’s last light was almost gone and the evening sky’s rich blues were on the verge of black. Michaela sat on the cliff top listening to the waves crash against the rocks below- her eyes on the sky, peeled for a sign of the bats that didn’t come.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Francois said.

He was right. After everything, he still knew her better than anyone.

“Did you see them tonight?” he asked.

Bats are true creatures of love, Michaela thought. They live in vast colonies and go by feel, navigating not by sight or reason but by what feels right to the senses. Nothing more. Nothing less. The same had brought her to this town. That and her job for the rockstar. The need for a stable life for her son was why she stayed, that and the warrants waiting for her in New York along with all the drama and empty people.

When the job dried up and the rockstar moved on, it was the bats that kept her here. They felt right. Despite the daily struggles to keep Bennett in school and healthy and fed they were always there. Then along came Francois.

“No, didn’t see them,” Michaela said.

“Maybe they’re full or feel the coming storm.”

She’s met Francois at a show one of the rockstar’s protégés was putting on. They talked all night. He didn’t judge her about all the New York drama she was running from. In the days and weeks and months that followed they talked every night. He brought her groceries and helped with what bills he could. He was kind to Bennett even took him to the aquarium for his birthday to see all the fishes he was so fascinated with. Bennett was thrilled to see his first real shark.

The night they first kissed Michaela dreamed the bats from the cliffs were on fire- beautiful golden flames that did not consume them. Every night since then she had dreamed of them spiraling out of their seaside caves into the night, their wild flaming patterns streaking across the sky.

Their love was real. Genuine emotion in every word, every touch. She could not imagine a life without him and he said neither could he. Then the rockstar called. Wanted to hire her. Just like the old days, but back in New York. So why wouldn’t Francois help her. He always wanted to live in New York. Catch was she had to get there and set up on her own. Francois could hire a lawyer, pay all the bills, protect her from the drama and make her troubles go away. Why wouldn’t he? If he loved me unconditionally, he would, she thought.

What you don’t own, owns you, he had said. These things are for you to face. If I make these things disappear, something else will rear its head at you even stronger to get you to listen to get you to face what you aren’t.

Ever since then she hadn’t dreamt of the bats. Not on fire. Not at all.

He didn’t understand what love was and she didn’t think that would change tonight. She looked into the night sky hoping for a sign the bats might come after all.

-END-

End of the Line: A Puzzle

by Susannah Mandel

*

Note: This story is a game of skill. Can you help Thad and Elizabeth solve it?

*
“Which door should we open? Help me think.”

“I have no idea…” Thad let himself sag against the wall. Even with the support, he could feel himself trembling with fatigue and fear.

“Which one?” she murmured, studying the doors; back turned toward him, hands on hips. “Hell,” she said, “there’s a clue here somewhere. I’m positive. There has to be.”

“Elizabeth,” he began. “What…” His voice came out rasping and thin. It shocked him.

“This clue,” he said, groping for steadiness. “Explain this, please. What exactly are you looking for? How will you know it when you see it?”

“It’s obvious, I’d think,” she said. Turning to face him, she seemed to loom, then suddenly recede. Expect disoriention, he thought, you’re dehydrated.

“We’ve been kidnapped by parties unknown — my vote’s still for aliens, by the way. Held, then dropped into this… labyrinth, or whatever it is. Inched our way through. Tackled games of skill, of wit… and learned that, incidentally, our captors aren’t above penalizing us for a wrong guess — ”

“Exploding thresholds,” he muttered. “Weight-dropped arches, and that napalm thing –”

“Horrid stuff, yes. It’s clear they’d let us die here, and want us to know it. …That brings us to these doors.”

“Exactly.” Which stood before them now in a neat row. Heavy, simple, solid. Identical, except for their color. The smooth surface of the first shone with a green luster; the second, white; the third, a warm gold.

Eyes throbbing, head pounding; dehydration and low blood sugar were taking him down. “Why don’t you just pick one?” he said, feeling despair wash through him. “Hand on knob, shove it open. It’ll blow us up or it won’t. That’s better than waiting here to starve to death!”

Elizabeth scowled. “With due respect, Thad, no. Help me think this through instead. I can find the clue –”

“There is no clue, Elizabeth!”

“Everything can be understood if you look closely. We can find the key. Help me think! It’s here if we look hard enough… They can manipulate everything in our environment, Thad. Examine everything. Where would an alien put the pattern? How would they hide the key?”

It’s here somewhere. Think like an alien. Everything can be understood….

White, green, gold. How would a master manipulator hide the clue?…

Impossible. Thad closed his eyes. Elizabeth stood, silent, still staring at the doors.

~

Which is the right door? If you can find it, post your answer in the comments. But don’t explain how you solved the puzzle: let others test their wits.