Terminus

TERMINUS

M.A. ASTERIOS

Terminus

©2017 Meriweather Asterios

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or undead is strictly coincidental.

To my dear wife,

Through you, everything is possible. With you, I have heaven on Earth. In you, I am complete.

Act I

Leonard

In the beginning, Leonard couldn't see well. He tried to focus on the heavens, but the sky kept changing. He thought his vision was blurred until he realized it wasn't his vision that was wrong. It was the clouds. They undulated and changed like an upset stomach, shifting from amorphous gray to Pepto pink and neon blue.

A projector screen shined down from the upset storm clouds. It flickered in and out of the mist,displaying a message or maybe a TV commercial. Leonard couldn't read the blasted writing anyway —it was in Indian. Sanskrit, maybe. He wasn't sure. It was foreign and didn't make any fucking sense. Nothing made sense in India. It was a weird place, nothing like Leonard would have expected. The message projected on the clouds seemed urgent, like a warning. But then,maybe the locals just wanted him to buy something, bring some revenue into an impoverished city.

Leonard was in a third world country, that was for damn sure. The place around him was poor and broken, but there were fragments of America here, plastic cups and Astroturf. Occasionally a car would streak by,a rare shining diamond amid the rubbish. Everything seemed fake,cheap — "cheap"was the word Leonard would use. He felt out of place. He was used to reflective chrome and the polished skyscrapers of New York and Los Angeles.

Leonard realized he was lying on the ground. As he slowly stood and dusted himself off, he began to wonder if he was hung over. A night of drinking would sure explain why he was passed out on a filthy street in India. There was probably nothing else to do here. Leonard had been known to drink, but he'd long ago convinced himself he had it under control. Still, he had no memories of last night, or of how he'd gotten here, so that had to be the explanation.

The problem was, he didn't feel hungover. That was troubling. He didn't have a headache and his stomach wasn't upset. In fact, he felt great, better than he had felt in ages. He didn't remotely recognize where he was, but that was only a temporary issue. If he could just get to a phone, he could call his agent and get on the first goddamn flight out of this hellhole.

Leonard wasn't going to panic. He rarely panicked. He was just going to find a hotel and someone who spoke English, tell them who he was, and make sure they knew he didn't have time for this. He didn't have time for any of this. Leonard was on a tight schedule, and though he wasn't sure why he was in India — probably for some damn marketing meeting —he traveled the world a lot and often found himself in strange places. Waking up in India was disorienting, sure, but not the end of the world.