The Circle of Champions, the winners of my monthly writing contests, bring forth another great Sci Fi story collaboration. Today, we reveal Part 3 of the story!
A Circle of Champions collaboration story
Jim Hamilton, who won my October Contest, took on the challenge of writing a story in five parts with two other champions, Katherine Shaw and S. Songweaver. Each writer will write a segment of 500 words or less. Jim started the story below, wrote Part 3 and will finish the story with Part 5.
Each Friday, I’ll bring you a new segment, and we’ll see how this the story progresses. And we’ll see if Jim can bring it home with a big finish. I know he can.
In today’s edition, we add Part 3 by Jim.
Part 1 by Jim Hamilton
It was five o’clock on a Saturday morning when Elizabeth and Robert Tanwell were rudely awakened by a pounding on their front door.
“Who the hell can that be at this hour?” asked Betty. She nudged her husband. “Go see who it is, Bobby.”
“I will, honey,” he said, getting out of bed and drawing on his bathrobe. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
As Bobby descended the stairs, the pounding continued. “I’m coming!” he yelled, as loudly as he could. When he reached the door, he peered through the peephole and was surprised to see a policeman and a man in a dark gray suit staring back at him. He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. “Good morning, officers, what can I do for you?”
The middle-aged gentleman in the suit regarded Bobby with piercing eyes. “Are you Robert Marris Tanwell?”
“Yes, sir, that would be me.”
Holding up several folded sheets of paper, he handed Bobby one of them. “You are hereby under arrest for felony theft, including breaking and entering a government facility.” He handed Bobby another set of papers. “This is a warrant allowing us to search the premises for any evidence involved in the afore-mentioned crime.” He handed Bobby the last of the papers. “And this is a warrant authorizing the freezing of any assets you may have.” He nodded at the uniformed policeman. “Officer Wilmington here will take you into custody.”
The officer spoke up. “Please step out of the house and face the street, sir.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!”
Dazed, Bobby complied and became aware of the numerous vehicles that lined his driveway. Within seconds, a menacing-looking, riot-gear-clad squad rushed past him into the house. As the officer brought Bobby’s arms behind him and fastened them with handcuffs, Bobby swore he could hear Betty screaming over the policeman’s words.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” He turned Bobby around to face him. “Do you understand these rights as I have explained them?”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Bobby protested. He looked at his house, searching for Betty. “What about my wife?”
The officer repeated, “Do you understand these rights as I have explained them?”
“Yes, yes, I do.” Bobby shook his head, “I think I want a lawyer now.”
Without replying, the policeman led Bobby to a marked SUV and opened the rear door. “Watch your head.”
Before climbing in, Bobby turned once more toward the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Betty, but there was still no sign of her. As the door closed behind him, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. One thing he knew for sure, it had to be something to do with that alien artifact he had found in his backyard two weeks ago.
Part 2 by Katherine Shaw
Bobby’s heart hammered in his chest as he sat sandwiched between two stern-faced officers, both of them staring forwards as the SUV jostled them in their seats. No one had spoken to him since they had set off, ignoring his anxious questions until he finally gave up and succumbed to their silence. With nothing to distract his whirring thoughts, Bobby’s panic only grew.
They hadn’t told anyone about the artifact, had they? No, definitely not. It was in his office, in its box, while they figured out what the hell they were going to do with it.
The journey was taking much longer than Bobby had anticipated. He’d had no time to properly dress or put on his watch, but the rising sun told him it must be nearly six. Surely the police station is much closer than this? Unless . . .
A dull ache spread across his tightening chest. Are they going to kill me?
Finally, the car slowed, and the crunch of gravel under the wheels suggested they had reached their destination. Bobby braced himself for the worst as the officer to his left stepped out of the car and signaled for him to follow.
He was led into a stark, featureless building with no obvious signage or markings, and the inside was equally devoid of identity. The walls were painted a humorless gray, and the expressionless staff members walking the corridors were dressed in plain, dark suits. He could have been anywhere, which only frightened Bobby more.
The leading officer stopped partway down a corridor and motioned for Bobby to enter a room to his right. It didn’t take a genius to recognize it as an interrogation room. He shuffled to the lone chair in the center of the room and sat, his hands clasped tightly on his lap. After several long minutes, a new officer entered. He was tall and thin, all angles and corners. His eyes were like cold steel.
“Where is it, Tanwell”? His voice was as sharp as his features.
“I’m sorry, what—“
“Do not play dumb with me. We’ve seen the tapes.”
“Tapes? What tapes?” Panic roiled in Bobby’s stomach. “Will someone tell me what’s going on? I haven’t done anything!”
The officer’s mouth twisted into a smirk and Bobby’s panic froze into ice cold dread. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words, Mr. Tanwell, but what about several minutes of film?”
He held up a small remote and pushed a button. The nearest wall opened up to reveal a large, black screen which came to life at the officer’s touch. It showed a security tape from some sort of museum or archive, dated the night before.
What does this have to do with . . . ?
Bobby’s eyes bulged as a figure walked into the shot. A recognizable but impossible figure. It was him. Bobby himself!
“No! It can’t be! I’ve never—“
The words caught in his throat as he saw his doppelgänger punch into a glass case to retrieve an item from within. He didn’t even flinch, simply pocketed the object, turned and walked back out of the shot. The tape flickered and looped around, showing Bobby over and over again. But it wasn’t Bobby; it couldn’t be.
Part 3 by Jim Hamilton
Bobby had a sinking feeling in his gut. He didn’t remember this place or breaking into it, but now
that he thought about it, this explained where the meteorite must have come from. And that nasty
gash on the back of my hand, he thought to himself.
He glanced at his bandage as the officer spoke. “Isn’t that where you hurt your hand?”
Bobby paled as he looked back up again. “I . . . I think so, but I don’t remember it, I swear!”
The officer smirked as he said, “Let me guess—you’re taking Ambien?”
Bobby shook his head. “No, nothing like that, but I’ve had several blackouts recently where I don’t
remember what happened.” He pointed at the screen. “That must be one of them.”
“Blackouts? Seriously?” The officer laughed. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Bobby nodded vigorously. “It’s the truth, officer. It all started with an alien artifact that fell into
The officer laughed again. “Oh, now you’re bringing aliens into it?”
“I’m serious! Two weeks ago, my wife and I heard a loud thump coming from the backyard.
When we went to see what it was. There was a dull silver sphere, about the size of a golf ball, embedded in the dirt. From the very beginning, we both felt . . . I don’t know, drawn to it. I picked it up and we brought it back into the house.”
“Maybe a large ball bearing fell from a plane?”
“That’s what we thought. However, when we went to bed, it was on our coffee table. When we
woke up, we found it in our microwave. It was glowing brightly enough to hurt your eyes to look
“How did it get in the microwave?”
“I don’t know.”
Bobby shook his head, knowing it sounded insane. “One of us must have moved it,
but neither of us remember doing so.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Since
then, we found it in the sink, filled with water. Then it moved to a large wooden box. Next it was
nestled into some kind of sawdust and fertilizer. Then a light coating of sand was added. Last
night, I found what looked like a meteorite in the box next to it.” He pointed at the video that was
still looping. “One that I apparently stole from this place.”
“Do you honestly expect me to believe that cockamamie story?”
“Yes! Because it’s the truth! I went to the store last night to get groceries and when I got home,
the meteorite was in one of the grocery bags and my right hand was bandaged.” He rubbed his
temples. “I remember shopping and coming home, but I don’t remember anything else.”
“As we speak, we’re searching your house. Care to tell me what we’ll find?”
Bobby nodded. “The box is on my desk.” He smiled. “However, I don’t think that your meteorite
is actually a meteorite.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because, when I went to bed, it had cracked open and green goo was oozing out.”
We hope that you are enjoying “The Orb” so far. If so, please leave some kind comments for Jim and Katherine below. And make sure to check back next Friday when we release Part 4 written by S. Songweaver.