There was no way to know how long they had been walking. There wasn’t even any discomfort on their feet from the smooth floor they strode across: something for which Penny was especially thankful for.
For the first time, as they walked together in silence, she realized that she had become less self-conscious about her nakedness. She noticed the same was true of Stacy and Arvan, too. They were becoming comfortable with each other on a level she would never have expected. Perhaps it was the lack of any other options. There wasn’t any place to hide, so had to simply had to drop their misgivings and accept things for what they were.
At the same time, she was wondering just exactly what the hell they were walking on. It wasn’t marble, concrete, tile, or limestone…the floor defied definition.
“The floor. The walls.” Penny said this as if answering a question no one had asked.
Arvan looked at Penny. “What did you say?”
“When you first started walking, were there walls? I mean, when you woke up?”
Arvan thought for a moment. “Yeah, actually, there were.”
“Me too,” Stacy added. “I was in a room until I started moving. At some point, my walls disappeared.”
“Mine too.”
“Mine too,” Arvan agreed. “A maze without walls? Is this some kind of puzzle?”
Penny noticed fog closing in on them up ahead and to the right. As she turned to tell them, she saw another wall coming from the left.
“Fog coming from all three directions now,” she said.
“Make that four,” corrected Stacy, pointing behind them where indeed another wall was rolling across the label-less white floor.
“Listen!” Arvan growled, a little more curtly than had been his intention. His nerves were on edge, and in an instant, the girls knew why.
The fog had brought a new kind of sound with it. Not so much just footfalls or footsteps but a large chorus of feet.
From all directions a symphony of people were approaching. The nothing was about to fill with people, and there was nowhere to go to avoid them.
The sound was thick enough to drown out the sudden pounding of their own pulse in each of their ears. All three of their hearts seemed to be pounding on the edge of leaping out of their chests.
High above them, watching through the fog, their gray-skinned captors traded interested looks with one another and continued to tap notes onto tiny glass screens.
THE END
Praise for Mulligan by Tommie Lee
Mulligan is one of those good books that you'll want to finish over the course of a couple nights, and revisit once you've put it in your collection.
- Andrew Frame, Florida, contributing editor to Radio And Production Magazine
Tommie Lee has created a fascinating futuristic world. You will get lost in Antarctica, and you will enjoy the ride.
- Hollie Ayres, Michigan, librarian
…(Mulligan) kept me seated in front of my computer long after I should have been sleeping.
- Mark Spurrier, Indiana
I was glued to my laptop - I couldn’t put it down. Very creative and compelling…I have passed the link on to some friends. Hope you will grace us with another!
- Deann Hagler, Toronto
Praise for For Four Players by Tommie Lee
Each of the stories pull you in and challenge you to hang on for the ride! From the visceral reaction to “Ghoul” to the “Rocket Man”-like emptiness and hope in “Ten Years Gone”. The intricate and spiritual twists of “The Mayor of Seventeenth Avenue” and the guilt-ridden escape of “Continental Highway”, Tommie Lee’s storytelling does not disappoint! As each of the stories’ end became apparent, I found myself wishing for more, only to find each ending perfect. I cannot recommend “For Four Players” highly enough!
- Shelley Morgan, Indiana
Four very excellent stories. Each is very different from the others and really draws you into the scene so that you feel as if you are actually there as an eyewitness. These were subjects that I normally would not choose to read, but right away from the beginning I was pulled in and wanted to keep reading to find out what would happen next.
- Amber Topp, Michigan
About The Author
Tommie Lee has worked in radio, with varying degrees of success, since 1988. Before that, he thought he was a musician. Before any of that, he was writing fiction in his bedroom on his mother’s old typewriter and a C64. Now, he is married with two teenagers, a cat, and a dog: all of whom tolerate the incessant typing. He wants a new laptop.
Connect with Tommie
You can find him online at https://iamtommielee.com, which also has links to his narcissistic ramblings on twitter (iamwritebrained) and facebook (tlclossonjr).
He welcomes your feedback at
[email protected]. Even if you’re just telling him to never write again. Which won’t work, by the way.
You can learn more, including where to find the book at other online retailers, at https://tkcbooks.com.
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