Mesmerized

Book summary

Mesmerized by John P. Warren explores themes of transformation and survival through three captivating science fiction stories. From a hitman grappling with his identity to an interstellar mission confronting cosmic mysteries, and a small town uncovering humanity’s essence after a global phenomenon, these tales delve into the weird and the paranormal with thought-provoking depth.

Excerpt from Mesmerized

When Dreams and Mirages Collide

They call me Zack Jauntly, and as my surname suggests, I really went on a strange, mind-altering journey. The day before all of this began, I was seated in a far corner of a silent bar, having a coffee with what I call my “agent.”

I say to him, “I’m so depressed it hurts—my nervous system is in pain. It’s like a clenched fist squeezing the life out of my heart. I’ve been in this job too long. It’s killing me.”

“That’s the nature of our job. I’m afraid it comes with the territory. I need to know if your shop is still open and not how your demons are suddenly haunting you.”

“Yeah, it’s open. What have you got?”

The agent reaches down to his satchel, which is on the ground in a tidy, upright position, picks out a file, and hands it to me. “There, your next assignment, and no, it will not do much for your mental health.”

I’m instinctively drawn to the picture of a man that’s attached to the file by a paperclip. The picture is striking to me because I believe the man to be a mean-looking son of a bitch. “What’s he done?” I ask.

“He was a crooked cop. He went after a pretty young woman and began harassing her husband when she rejected him. The husband since took his own life because of the pressure. He got off—the cop did, that is.”

“I think I’m gonna enjoy taking this jerk out,” I reply as I fold up the file and place it inside my jacket. I get up and leave the older man, who finishes his coffee.

Outside the bar, I look carefully around, scanning the vicinity for any hostile enemies lurking in shadows who may be seeking revenge for contracts I carried out in the past. The coast seems clear, and I continue to my old car, a beaten-up Corvette. I get inside and drive off. Later that evening, I am with my girlfriend in her bedroom at her apartment. Her name is Zoe. We were together intimately, and I light a cigarette. I gesture to Zoe to light up too. She pushes it away.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea now.”

I laugh. “Why? Are you pregnant or something?”

“Yeah, I am.”

I’m stunned. The next day, I am spying on the cop—my next contract. The cop gets inside his squad car and drives off. I presume he is heading for the police station on his way to work. I follow him. As we make our way downtown, the cop never notices that I’m following him. He pulls up beside a group of what seem to be drug dealers—they have unsavoury impressions of themselves, judging by their poor hygiene and attire. I park a respectful distance away, take out my binoculars from the glove box, and peer through them. I witness one of the gang members handing the cop a large envelope, probably a payoff so they can carry out their nefarious deeds. The cop takes the filthy cash, returns to his car, and drives off. I continue to follow him.

We are now both outside the police station, where I can see him picking up his phone to answer an incoming call. He drives away from the police station, never entering it at all. I presume this to be odd and believe he is on a case where something has come up. I remind myself that I am on a contract and have to carry it out, so I continue following him. The cop drives all the way out to a block of middle-class apartments and gets out. I remember that one of the cop’s girlfriends lives there, so I quickly take out the file for the apartment number. The cop heads to the entrance of the apartment block, only to be subjected to a diatribe of abuse from a young woman. She is yelling and screaming at him. Was he doing the same to this young woman as he was to the other couple that was the reason for his current contract? I think to myself.

The cop makes a gesture with his hand, signalling that he can’t listen to her complaints and heads back to his car. Realising that the coast is clear, and this is my opportunity to take him out, I pick up my revolver, which I keep well concealed in my coat, and point the weapon at the cop. I squeeze the trigger and fire, only the young woman comes out of nowhere. As the bullet impales her flesh, I dive into the murky depths of unforgiving despair. When I realise I’ve killed this woman, I throw the weapon into the back seat and speed off. As I try to escape, my driving is erratic, and the thoughts flooding through my mind are that I’m the bad guy now because I screwed up and broke the cardinal rule—no women and no children, only evil men.

Much later that evening, I hide in my cabin in the woods outside the city. I frantically pack a suitcase and delve through my stash of fake passports as I plan to leave the country by tonight. I head over to the drinks cabinet, take out a bottle of tequila, and gulp some of it down. I am sweating as it is a very humid evening, and I am hysterical with worry and fear. I look under my bed, pull out a can of gasoline, and douse the cabin. I leave the gasoline-saturated wooden cabin, light a match, and hurry to my car, carrying a small suitcase. The cabin goes up in flames suddenly. I can feel the heat emanating from the blaze. I get inside the car and drive off. As I make my way down the hill, the car starts to break down, so I slow down and get out, carrying the suitcase with me and the bottle of tequila. I know I’ll have to sleep somewhere deep in the woods tonight and take my chances that nobody will find me.

Staggering and falling against the bushes and trees, I scare an owl and fall to the stony ground, unconscious. It is dawn, and as the sunlight dazzles my eyes just as I open them, I vomit.

“Are you alright, son?” a strange voice says, sounding as if it came from a Native American man.

I turn around and see it is a Native American elderly man dressed in a Chief’s attire.

“My apologies for getting sick on your land.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure you can make amends for it somehow.”

“Sure, no problem. I don’t suppose you could tell me the quickest way out of here?”

“No doubt you’re lost. I can help you rediscover your path.”

“Yeah, that’s right—a path outta here.”

“The path I’m going to show you will take you on a journey that will enrich your soul.”

I am agitated now because I’m very hungover and not having any of it. “For God’s sake! Enough of the Indian mumbo jumbo—just show me the way out of this fucking forest!”

The Chief moves swiftly over to me and strikes me across the face. I am about to punch him back, but the Chief intercepts me and punches me instead.

“You listen here! I know the reasons for your predicament. You caused the death of an innocent woman!” the Chief yells.

“Are you here to take me out?”

“No, you fool. I’m here to make it all better.”

“Just how in the hell are you gonna do that, Chief?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll practise a little of that ‘mumbo jumbo,’ as you like to call it.”

“Heaven knows it might help.”

“Just stand back, and I’ll show you.”

I finish rubbing my face and stand back up. The Chief brings me a few yards to an area of cleared forest. There is a fire burning in the middle of the ground, surrounded by small rocks. The Chief takes from his pocket a vial of blue-coloured powder and pours it into the fire. There is a whoosh of flames followed by bluish smoke and a quivering effect seen through the small plume of smoke.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

He casually replies, “––Just manipulating the fabric of space/time.”

“What?!” I say, astonished and incredulous.

“The energy released from this vortex is literally handing you a gift. When you experience this gift, I want you to find me and tell me what you saw because maybe I’m right or maybe I’m so wrong.”

“What?”

“I said fuck off now.”

I don’t wait around so the crazy bastard can do any more voodoo on me, so I run. It wasn’t long before I found my car. I drive off. Paranoid that I am too late to flee the country, I head for my downtown apartment. It is on the opposite end of the city. It is quaint, and when I get there, I hit the bed and sleep. That night, I have a crazy dream of a thirteen-year-old girl who was living in my home with Zoe and calling me daddy. Then there was a knock on the door. I went to see who it was, naturally. When I opened the door and, to my horror, it was the Chief.

“You?!” I tried to utter, but I couldn’t speak properly.

“It’s time,” he replied.

“Time for just what?”

“Depending on when you’re getting this message, all this should be clear to you. However, because of what I performed on you during our first meeting in the forest, the timing could be unpredictable.”

“What are you talking about, man?!” I screamed at him.

The Chief sighed. “To hand over her,” he says, pointing at my daughter.

I knew that he wanted her for something no good, and at that moment the mere suggestion of handing over my flesh and blood to a person badder than I ever was wasn’t something I could ever humanly do. I yelled at him to get out. I then grabbed the child and held on to her as long as I could, and as fear of losing her washed over me, I cried.

Waking up in my apartment, sweating profusely and very confused, why was I so adamant about holding onto a child? I decide not to think about it too much and get up to pour myself bourbon. The next day, I never leave the apartment. There is widespread revulsion being projected on the news reports of the murder of an innocent young woman that I am one hundred percent responsible for. I decide there and then to keep a low profile and do things like shopping for groceries online. I am basically housebound. I know that my so-called ‘agent’ is probably searching for me and, besides him, the police. I decide that I have to revise my original plan and try to flee the country or something else. This means calling up an old friend or more of a former colleague of mine.