Out of the Chocolate Box (59)

Mutants and Morphans

[Episode 59 of a spin-off from my novels The Hitch-hiker and Mission of the Unwilling.]

Driver gestured. ‘This way!’ We waded through the haze of grey-brown dust. ‘Come on, don’t linger,’ she said. ‘Keep close. Remember to cloak yourself.’

I could see Commander D but hoped no one else could. As we wore camouflage coats, we intended to be invisible, blended with the background.

I stuck close to Driver. The frigid air caused me to tremble. I sensed this place was a vacuum of decay. The gas chambers at Auschwitz do not come close to the eerie atmosphere of this planet. I remember visiting that German death camp; not even birds fly over the area. Similarly, this planet seemed devoid of life; no animals, no birds, no plants, and not even any insects. Did only creepy crawly creatures like cockroaches, and spiders exist here? If they did, were they reluctant to do so?

A ghostly figure clattered into a ruin.

‘Real Estate must be really cheap here’, I said.

Driver turned around and held a solitary finger to her lips.

I clapped my hand over my mouth and continued to follow her. We stumbled along for what seemed an eternity. We hastened over cracked pavement, gravel, down empty streets and vacant lanes. We hopped over vomit vested drunks sprawled around lamp posts. We avoided the vacant stares of drug addicts. I guarded my nostrils from the fumes of human waste both biological and chemical.

Arriving at a building with red peeling paint, we halted and then stepped up to the door. Cobwebs garnished the corners of the door frame. Driver tapped on the wood. The door creaked open.

We crept inside.

I scanned the room as we entered. Purple walls and an eclectic gathering of colourful couches and armchairs, gave the room a friendly atmosphere. ‘Wow, what a contrast! It’s so warm in here,’ I whispered.

We walked through the room. More cobwebs adorned the cornices and dangled down from the ceiling. Faded curtains hung each side of the frosted windows.

Driver stepped up to a wall and then counted the interior brickwork. ‘Hurry! Over here!’ She waved me over. ‘We walk through right here.’

Driver shed her cloak. Then while cradling the cloak in her arms, she vanished into the brickwork.

After taking off my cloak, I hooked the garment in the crook of my elbow and charged through after her.

Several beings, solidly built but half my height, greeted us.

I froze. ‘Wh-what are they? Munchkins?’

‘Meet the “Morphans”, Holly,’ Commander D replied. ‘They won’t bite.’

With pleading eyes and stretching out their hands holding bowls, the “Morphans” cried, ‘Food! Food! Food!’

‘Oh, you poor “morphans”, who’s been looking after you?’ Driver said and then turning to me she explained, ‘They are orphans who are mutants. Another tragic result from Boris’ box of tricks.’

Commander Driver opened her cape and produced a loaf of bread. She began breaking off pieces and placing chunks into their hungry mouths like a mother bird feeding her chicks. I watched stunned and speechless. I mean, where did the bread come from? I ask you?

After feeding the “morphans”, we negotiated our way through the room to a rear area. There, some older mutants and hybrid Grey-humans lounged on bean bags and broken sofas.

They jumped up and swamped Driver. She tended to each one.

I had never encountered a mutant before. As I brushed past them, my muscles stiffened.

I hung back; a silent and guarded observer. Some were big, bear-like and hairy, some were dwarf-like with oblong bodies and stumpy legs. There were the normal looking ones too; some seemed to me insane; normal in appearance but drooling into their sunken chins. One was toothless with a gummy smile, and another appeared so brain-challenged, he seemed catatonic.

I was impotent to act. All day, I hung around, watching, and smiling politely, while Driver bustled about doing her business of loving and caring.

When the feeding of the mutants and “morphans” was over, Driver took me deeper underground to our sleeping quarters.

While she made up my bed for the night, I grumbled. ‘When I was asked to go on a mission, I didn’t think it would be a real mission; to the poor—mission.’

‘What other sort of mission did you have in mind, dear?’

‘I thought that we would be fighting good against evil, killing the bad guys by stealth and freeing hostages like Minna, ‘n all that. I mean, what about Boris? He’s on the verge of taking over Earth, and here we are, feeding mutants and “morphans”. It wasn’t in my job description to feed the poor, no offence. It’s not me. When it comes to hospitals and soup kitchens, I don’t do that. It makes me feel uncomfortable seeing all those sad people. I mean what am I supposed to do?’

‘But my dear, Holly, this is not a physical battle, it is a spiritual one. By loving these poor people, you are actually, overcoming evil with good. We are doing what our Lord Jesus did when he came to Earth. He came for the poor, the sick, and the captive. Even the brain-dead man is a person, worthy of love. And you know God loves all people.’

‘Yes, Ma’am, alright, I’ll try and help out tomorrow.’

She handed me a brew of herbal tea. ‘Here try this.’

‘Thank you.’ I held the teacup in my hands. I was sorry for whining.

Sitting in my bed sipping the aromatic water, I was consumed with guilt for thinking I had wasted decades of my time for this assortment of unimportant creatures on this rotten planet. ‘Just tell me ‘n I’ll do what you ask,’ I mumbled. ‘Good night.’ I gulped down the tea, then rolled over and fell asleep.

[to be continued…]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2019

Feature Photo: Spider web on ice © L.M. Kling 2011

***

Yearning for adventure? Space adventure?

Click on the links to my novels below and learn how this war on the alien cockroach Boris began and will continue…

Mission of the Unwilling

The Hitch-hiker

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2 thoughts on “Out of the Chocolate Box (59)

  1. I could smell the stench as Holly and Driver embark on their assignment. Poor Holly, not what expected . Will she ever be given a calling to an assignment which suits her best? Is Holly been trained or punished for misdeeds committed? I can sense this moving very nicely . Enjoying, keep up your writing

    Liked by 2 people

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