Her eyes locked on the woman's earrings before registering her face. Two perfect, glittering aquamarine teardrops hung in the air under her earlobes, as if suspended by nothing.

Perfectly matching her own.

It was impossible.

"Rhia? Are you alright?" Theo lowered the glass of champagne from his lips and stared at her oddly.

She blinked, realizing their hands were still clasped, and her fingers had curled around his like a creeping vine. She dropped his hand abruptly, which only seemed to upset him more.

Theo flagged a caterer with a single raised finger and a raised eyebrow, and a young woman offered Rhia a platter of tall glasses, all filled with bubbly drink. She waved the woman away, trying to see around her, to spot the woman with the earrings again.

"Take a drink and calm down," Theo told her lowly, pushing a glass into her hand. He'd swiped it from the caterer as she'd walked away.

"I am calm," she replied, but her voice was tight.

The woman across the way was tall, angular, and rigid. Her eyes glinted and her full lips were set into a determined line. Her natural black curls were tied back with a scarf that matched her dress: a deep, mysterious blue.

And her earrings. Her earrings were undoubtedly identical to Rhia's own.

"Hey," Theo stepped into her line of vision, his glasses sliding down his nose as he bent down to her level.

Rhia looked past his shoulder at the woman, her attention divided. She reached up and touched one of the earrings on her own ear, confirming that her own aquamarines were still there.

Her fingers touched the cool gemstone, and instantly everything sharpened.

She could hear every bubble in every champagne glass pop, throughout the entire room. If she'd taken a moment, she might've even been able to tell you which glass each one came from.

Rhia could also see two wrinkled white men in suits, both standing in front of her, arguing with each other, though time seemed to move too slow for her to make out any words. Theo was somewhere else, but where?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw another woman with aquamarine earrings, but recognized her instantly. She had a hand to her ear, and was peering over the shoulder of a tall man, who was pushing up his glasses, who was most certainly Theo. She, the other woman, was most certainly, most impossibly, herself.

Spreading a hand in front of her face, she found it adorned with rings. Not her own. And the skin was much darker than her own, and the dress on her body was a deep, mysterious blue.

Then the world spun, and she thought she might retch, and she felt fingers dig into her shoulder. "Rhia. Dear lord, you're not drunk are you?"

She blinked into Theo's concerned face. Her eyes flashed past him, and for the briefest second, her gaze collided with the mysterious woman.

The other woman parted her lips, but Rhia felt too sick to figure out what she might be saying, she was all the way across the party, anyway, why would she think she would be able to hear her? But it didn't matter, because her body felt slippery, and the drink that Theo had put into her hand wasn't there.

She was just aware enough to hear the glass shatter.

Captain Clint Raymond sat hunched over on the floor, his head supported by his hands. He was grateful for his son's safety now, but also felt spent from all that was happening. His mind reeled over Margo's reveal of Phil's plans. He had a tough time believing that Phil was capable of the evil Margo warned about. He wondered if Margo's undead makeover could have altered her mind, and all of this was a trap on her part. But despite her zombified changes, she still was the genuine article. Then there was the issue of Elana Mycrovitch, who should be dead. Well, she was very dead, but thanks to her new zombified status, with abilities to command an undead army to boot, she also posed as a major obstacle for survival. The only bright spot was that Phil and Elana didn't appear to be in cahoots per Margo's intel.

A loud clang and footsteps down the hall brought Clint out of his ponderings and back into the moment. Clint stood up, prepared to defend his sons and comrades if it was the last thing he did. Margo and Jules also stood at the ready, Jules ready to utilize some of the combat training he was able to glean from Margo before she was turned.

A decaying man who looked much like the other monsters outside stumbled into the room. He held an electronic PDA in his hand and looked up at the five with lifeless eyes.

"Dr. Addams?" Jules exclaimed. "Should have known if Mycrovitch was behind this, you wouldn't be far behind!"

Darryl said nothing and gave no reaction, leading the party to believe that he wasn't a conscious undead like Margo and Elana. He simply held up the PDA for them to see, and the screen flicked on, revealing Elana sitting on a pile of bones.

"You know, when the zombies were attacking me, I thought the survival pistol from my grandfather was unlucky, but it turns out that wasn't the case. Thanks to your attempt to get rid of us, I am now more powerful than ever!"

"Good for you Elana, you've gone from brilliant scientist to comic book supervillain!" Margo responded sarcastically. "Did you send Darryl here to do your dirty work, just like before? Even with your power, you're still pathetic!"

Despite his stress, Clint couldn't help but smile at his scrappy zombie ally. Remembering Margo's wrestling days, he had a feeling she could still hold her own, even with a decaying body.

"On the contrary Jessup. I sent my stooge here to propose a challenge. You're a conscious undead, as am I. You led these weaklings to safety before my hoard could do to them what they did to me and Darryl. As long as you are in the picture, my plans for this world won't come to fruition. So, I think we should meet up for what they would call in ancient times, a duel. Winner takes all, survivor becomes the leader of the undead!"

"Bitch please, I know this is a trap to get us back outside. You don't want to challenge me, the second we get out there you'll sic your hoard on us again."

"On the contrary." Elana laughed playfully with a sinister undertone. "I didn't think I would ever meet another conscious zombie, and I definitely never expected it would be you. A brilliant teacher, archaeologist, and strong fighter like you? Putting you down would cement my place as the queen, and I want to do this fair and square. Besides, I managed to slip Darryl in there. Do you really think you, or Clint's sons for that matter, are safe?"

"As much as I hate to say it, she's right Margo." Clint conceded. "I hate to put it on you, but can I ask you to kick her ass for us?"

"Are you kidding, I didn't even like her when we were alive!" Margo laughed. "I would be happy to shut her mouth permanently!"

"Splendid!" Elana squealed. "Darryl will safely lead you and your friends to the location of our duel. I promise no cheap tricks on route. Trust me Jessup, I can't wait to personally kill you and prove that I am the better zombie."

*****

Darryl led Clint, his sons, Jules, and Margo through the zombie hoard to a dilapidated, abandoned office building. Elana wore a yellow and red dress and smiled a sadistic grin at the party.

"Welcome Jessup, I'm glad you had the guts to make it! I mean, I guess that's obvious, with our guts being visible and all."

"Spare the pleasantries Mycrovitch, what is your game here?" Margo replied warily.

"The only game is to prove that I'm better than you. Of course, once you're disposed of, your allies here will be easy prey, so they are the prize that I'll accept. Not that you're going to win, but what would you claim if you had a choice?"

"This world is a shit show, but you no longer being part of it would make it a little less terrible." Margo answered. "Of course, being able to personally put you in your place will be nice too."

"Then let's begin!" Elana yelled, charging towards Margo. Margo stepped to the side as Elana got close, grabbing her arm, and flipping her face first onto the floor. Elana rolled over and pulled herself up, grinning.

"That's the spirit, this is going to be fun!"

Elana lunged at Margo again, this time being stopped with a fist to the face. Elana kicked Margo in the chest, causing her to briefly double over. Margo then slammed her head into Elana's, pushing her back. She then struck Elana's head again with a roundhouse kick, knocking her back down to the floor once again.

"I was a champion wrestler, and I've still got it." Margo stated, standing over her zombie rival. "You're out of your league here Elana. Give up now and maybe I'll let you go."

Despite not being on her feet, Elana laughed maniacally.

"You may be stronger physically, but can your mind compete with mine? Darryl, go eat Captain Raymond's sons!"

"No!" Margo screamed, running after Darryl. Before she could grab him, Darryl backhanded her, knocking her to the floor.

"Ha ha ha ha, so the champion wrestler can't stop my minion. Tough break Margo dear!"

"Darryl, stop!"

Darryl froze in place, then turned to Margo for his next instruction.

"What? You can control them too?" Elana screamed in shock.

"I guess so." Margo shrugged. "Never tried it to be honest."

"You bitch! Darryl, go rip Jessup's head off!"

Darryl began approaching Margo with malice in his eyes.

"Darryl, go rip Elana's stupid hair out!"

Darryl turned around and began approaching Elana to give her a haircut through unorthodox methods.

"Darryl, freeze!" Margo yelled once more.

Elana looked at Margo with a puzzled look.

"Why stop him Jessup? What are you up to now?"

"Apparently Darryl responds to both of us equally. If we keep going at this rate, this will never end. I may be dead, but I have better things to do than continue this pissing contest with you."

"Hmph, so that's how you view our duel, eh? OK Jessup, what are you suggesting?"

"A final, decisive maneuver. We give Darryl a weapon that could destroy both of us, and we stand on opposite sides of him. We order him to attack at the same time, and whoever he strikes loses. You like duels Mycrovitch, think of it like an apocalyptic quick draw finale!"

"Oooooh, I like it!" Elana cackled. "Too bad I hate your visible guts, otherwise we may have worked well together in a different life. Let's finish this. In fact, I have just the firearm in mind. Darryl, get the flamethrower!"

Darryl walked off as Elana continued smiling sadistically. Jules, Clint, and his sons looked at Margo with concern.

"Are you sure about this Margo?" Clint asked his comrade. "Neither of you had an edge in controlling Darryl, and this could go either way."

"Trust me Captain, I've got this." Margo replied, flashing a reassuring smile.

Darryl returned with a flamethrower in tow, and Elana and Margo approached him until he stood a couple of feet between the pair.

"You're going to regret this Jessup. Darryl was my partner when we were alive. He will respond to me first, not you."

"Guess we'll know soon enough Mycrovitch." Margo answered, still smiling. "Jules, we'll have you count to three, then we will both give Darryl the order at the same time. Does that work for you Elana?"

"Absolutely. I can't wait to watch you burn."

"Is this really OK Captain?" Jules asked timidly.

"Whether we agree or not, this is their fight now." Clint said with a nervous, yet confident smile. "I trust Margo's judgment. Fulfill her request whenever you are ready."

"Very well." Jules conceded. "Alright.... one, two, three!"

"Darryl, light her up now!" Margo and Elana screamed.

Darryl turned to Elana and blasted her with the flamethrower. As the flames engulfed her body, she screamed to Margo once more, feeling no pain as the flames were melting her away to nothingness.

"I should have known that Darryl would betray me in the end. Well congratulations Jessup, you are the alpha now. But remember, we aren't the only conscious undead out there. Your position of power will be challenged at some point. The burden to defend the title of zombie queen is yours now. Enjoy!"

Elana laughed maniacally until nothing of her remained but a pile of ashes. Darryl turned to Margo, awaiting his next order.

"Give me the flamethrower Darryl, now."

Darryl gave Margo the flamethrower, which she then presented to Clint.

"He's all yours Captain. Vengeance for your family can be yours now."

"How did you know this would all work out Margo?"

"Well, the two of them didn't really seem to trust each other to begin with. I had a feeling that I had a sporting chance."

Margo released her control over Darryl as Clint aimed the flamethrower at him. Darryl fell to his knees and began begging for his undead life.

"I've done terrible things I know, but please have mercy!" Darryl cried.

"I want to do the right thing and help you guys now, please let me do that for you!"

*****

Meanwhile, in the Phoenix Air Base Hospital

Dale Caruthers continued resting, the bite wound from his zombified comrade Brad Marconi still looking gruesome. He still felt like himself at least. Brad's body was taken to a different section of the hospital, also being treated. Dale hoped for Brad's survival, even if he wasn't himself anymore. Lizzie needed a live zombie to generate the cure, and if what was left of Brad didn't make it, they were back to square one.

Coincidentally, Dr. Harlem ran to Dale's side a moment later.

"Dale, how are you? Please tell me if you're still, OK?"

"You called me Dale this time." Dale grinned. "Never been better Lizzie. This flesh wound looks worse than it actually is."

"I'm relieved to hear that." Lizzie said as tears rolled down her face. "I needed some good news today."

"Good news, what do you mean?" Dale asked with concern. "Lizzie, what happened?"

"We lost Mr. Marconi. He's gone.... truly gone."

Written By: Roses311Sublime

The definition of fairness often revolves not being biased, lack of discrimination, or lack of favoritism.

Intuitively, fairness seems like a simple and easy to understand concept. If someone wins a race from their own efforts, then they have won “fair and square”. However, if you dig a little deeper, you might point out genetics and upbringing differences that contributed to the outcome. You might argue that life itself granted more benefits to this person that was “biased”.

Someone else may point out that it is impossible to live in a purely fair world in which everyone starts out the same as it would mean requiring everyone to be the exact same copy of each other and growing and training in the exact same conditions, so the definition of fairness should not based on effort, but rather based on something else.

Someone may take this and run very far with this prior argument. They may define fairness in terms of equal outcomes rather based on effort. In a truly fair world, then everyone would win the race.

So who is right? That depends on how you think about fairness. The first argument defines fairness in terms of what influenced the outcome. If an outcome happens that is influenced by forces outside, then it’s really not one’s own effort. The second argument, however, pokes a hole in how we define fairness in terms of influence because there can never be a perfect starting point that makes things purely without advantage. How, then would you define fairness if you can never truly untangle the messes of genetic, socioeconomic, ancestry, and upbringing lotteries from personal effort? How much personal effort is needed? How can we decide what is personal effort and what is not? To what extent is anything personal effort? We can think about clear cases of unfairness, but how about the gray? The third argument abandons this question entirely as it is a lost cause to argue about what is personal effort when it is so deeply entangled with what is not personal effort. Instead, it posits that fairness is about looking at equal outcomes.

The word “advantage“ automatically implies undue benefit that allows someone to achieve an outcome easier than someone else. Abstracting away from this loaded term, we can think of certain circumstances that may have influence on someone that can be seen as unfair.

Considering that we live in such a complex world in which the simple rules that govern fairness are often ignorant of this complexity, one could argue that having certain circumstances that lend greater likelihood of a certain consequence is fair simply because diversity and unfairness is embedded into our universe. Unfairness is fair. No one was intentionally discriminated against, and as a part of an imperfect world, there will always be advantages. One could even argue that these advantages are even a good thing because they imply diversity that otherwise would not be there. Not only would a lack of diversity doom the species evolutionarily, but diversity is to be celebrated as everyone has something advantageous or un-advantageous over others, so everyone can play different roles.

If we define fairness in terms of an outcome in which all are equally likely to reach, then we would be talking about equity. In equity, some individuals would get more benefits to compensate for those innate or circumstantial differences. Fairness in this definition would see any circumstances that leads to a difference in outcome (whether beneficial or not) as a sign of unfairness. This position may seem extreme at first, but consider other scenarios more acceptable to this idea such as securing basic needs like food. Is it fair if someone has a greater advantage in securing the bare necessities because they were born lucky? People who think the world is fairly unfair might say that this is fine, but people who argue for equity see fairness in making sure that all individuals have the bare necessities.

How we define fairness may even need to change depending on the context of the issue we are discussing. While racing may be more compatible with a fair unfair world concept, securing basic necessities may not. There might not be a “right” answer to what constitutes fair because, at its core, it is a moral judgement about what is right and what is wrong. While some contexts are easily seen as unfair or unjust, such as comparing a child to an adult runner, other situations are not so clear. Just like the famous trolley problem, there can be many different interpretations, justifications, and gut feelings that govern why someone may think a situation is fair or not, but there is no “right” answer. It’s an area of gray that underlies most complex moral questions.

As unsatisfying as it is, if you asked me whether or not advantages can be fair in some situations, my answer would be: it depends. Tell me more, and then we can discuss.

I first have to explain why I was in Gilroy that day, what I was doing and what caused me to stop there.

My job comes with many hats. Some of them are more traditional manager type tasks, like reading reports and deciding on the next course of action. But I also have this cool-geek alter-ego that builds complex scientific test fixtures and takes them out in the field, and gathers meaningful samples of data to prove the effectiveness of the piece of tech that I personally develop. That guy is a lot of fun.

His name is Jack, duh, and he drives a little fast. He usually drives a small unmarked white utility van, Dodge CargoMaster or equivalent, white, with an extra antenna for Ham Radio to achieve the user-geek effect I am cultivating. He is super-respectful and kind when he meets people, for one reason because you never know when you are going to needs someone’s help later, And then, it just feels good to make people feel better. Jack likes to take these trips to get his head clear, which helps his whole family.

This trip was a milk run by the numbers, go to Fresno, sample various gas streams at some sites, come home after a couple of days and return the van. I would stay with my niece and her wife, eat home food while living in the field (cheating) and play with my great-nephews. I picked up my utility van in San Jose, over by the Matrix Casino sort of, on Kerley St., on Wednesday just before noon. I wanted to be in the Sanger/Parlier/Reedley greater metropolitan area before dark. I had already had a long day, because my colleague Suthi and I had started monitoring an east coast system event test at 3:30 AM that day, so it made sense to leave a lot of extra time before bed-time to allow for rest stops as needed. The van was perfect, better than the one I used on the East Coast in November before Thanksgiving. This one had cruise control, nice cush seats, and modern Bluetooth technology.

I took the van to Moffett Field and collected my gear, then went home to get my personal gear. It was raining at Moffett, lightly, and I worked quickly to keep my gear dry. I brought way too much stuff on these trips in general, mainly extra tools and build materials for the systems I was taking, just in case of malfunctions. This time I had:

My gas chromatography cart

Big materials crate with build stuff

All my toolbags except for a drill

Sample lines and instruments box, regularly used

Instruments box, rarely used

Huge green canvas tarp

A cooler with ice, some drinks

A pound of beef jerky, and a box of Builder Bars (miss a lot of lunches on these trips, out away from towns)

Big aluminum ramps for loading and unloading the cart (it weighs 150-200 lbs.)

A small roller-bag with my personal kit, clothes, toiletries, etc.

My backpack with laptop and other personal office supplies

At home, before I could leave, I had to complete and test some upgrades to the cart (moving some controls to the panel from hanging tubes, and installing a sample flowmeter) and test them, with Kai’s help. By the time all that was done, I was leaving town at 4:30 PM, and not well-fed. Usually a bad sign for anyone who is going to be around me when I am not well-fed. I planned to eat a decent meal somewhere along the way.

I started down San Tomas Expressway, hopped on CA-17S, to CA-85S immediately, heavy traffic and podcasts as I escaped the gravity well of Silicon Valley.

After a few podcasts and very slow traffic all the way to US-101S, I was ready to talk to someone, so I turned on the Ham Radio and hit the Bay-Net repeater with my call, AI6BZ. I talked with a new guy for about ten minutes before I started to lose him to poor line-of-sight to the repeater. Before I lost him he recommended Harris Ranch for a great steak. I don’t remember how steak came up, but by then it was 5:45 PM and I had only had two eggs and toast for breakfast at about 8AM, so it was probably my stomach talking. I thought this was great place to stop and asked Google for Harris Ranch.

I had never been there before - had no preconception or knowledge of where it was except somewhere “down there”. The guy on the radio had not been overly specific in the time we had to talk before I was losing his signal. So, when Google directed my to the Harris Ranch Meat Company in Gilroy, I thought this was probably the place. Really had no doubt.

It was full dark by the time I got there.

It was clearly a wrong decision. This was a butcher shop. And it was closed for the day, not that that would have mattered. I made a right turn off the main street it was on, and pulled unintentionally into a cup-de-sac. I was in a neighborhood, hungry, and 20% lost. I turned on the dome-light, left the van running, headlights on, no effort at stealth as I looked for the real Harris Ranch.

I quickly found with Yelp that I was about fifty miles from the real Harris Ranch Restaurant and Hotel. It was somewhere south of CA-152 on I-5. I was not eating there tonight. I quickly got over that fact and looked for a restaurant in downtown Gilroy. Located Scotty’s on the main drag, and started working my way out of the neighborhood. About 3-5 minutes had elapsed while I sat there getting my bearings in the van. I shut off the dome light and pulled away from the curb.

I turned down one more cup-de-sac on my way to the Monterey Street restaurant, but quickly turned around and got things right.

A word about the parking space - the parking in the downtown of Gilroy, at least on Monterey St., is of the two space slip variety, so if you pull into the rear space and there is a car in front of you, there is no way to back straight up without hitting a tree or a newspaper box or a bike rack. You are waiting for room to pull out normally.

I had just parked in the rear spot of just such a partly occupied deuce, and that was the situation I was in when a somewhat dinged white American sedan stopped directly parallel to me, angled in slightly and really close to my car, so that I could not have opened my car door if I had wanted.

The street was fairly well lit, and I could easily make out the face of a driver, alone in his car leaning toward the passenger window which was open, obviously the dude was bent out of shape, he was talking very loud if not hollering, but I could not understand him until I rolled down my window. All I was thinking at that moment was that I had taken his favorite parking spot or something.

He had brown or reddish hair, dingy white t-shirt, seemed in his late twenties or early thirties, but pretty hard miles. Not a small guy, but kind of wiry and very wound up. He had a scruffy few days of beard, a crewish cut, somewhat grown out, and he was radiating an aura of anger and craziness that immediately scared the hell out of me. If I had to guess, he was either currently high on meth or recently high on meth.

When I rolled down the window he was in the middle of a sentence, but I tried to diffuse the situation right away by calmly asking -

“ I am sorry, did I take your parking space or something?”

“ DO YOU KNOW, I JUST FOLLOWED YOU TWO MILES. YOU WERE ON MY STREET! <slap> YOU WERE IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD! YOU HAVE AN EXTREMELY SUSPICIOUS VEHICLE <slap> AND I FELT THREATENED…YOU THREATENED MY FAMILY! I HAVE KIDS <slap> AND THAT SUSPICIOUS VEHICLE WAS NEAR MY HOUSE <slap>, AND I FOLLOWED YOU HERE TO TELL YOU TO STAY AWAY <slap> FROM MY STREET, MY NEIGHBORHOOD!”

Woah. I was scared beyond reason at this point. Each slap was a soft raising and lowering of a blocky, black object in his right hand and bringing it down audibly on his right thigh. I could not be 100% positive, but I was pretty sure it was some kind of Glock. The slaps were like soft bangs of a gavel as he judged my case.

He kept going as I tried to explain myself -

“I was just looking for a restaurant to have dinner at, I got a little off track, and -“

“YOUR VEHICLE IS EXTREMELY SUSPICIOUS AND WHEN I SEE A CAR LIKE THAT IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD <slap>, I TAKE RESPONSIBILITY, IT MAKES ME SCARED <slap> AND I DO SOMETHING, I FOLLOWED YOU TWO MILES <slap> AND …”

He continued and I could barely hear his words even though he was shouting. I think I was getting a little shock. He only seemed to be getting angrier, his aura had gone from orange to white hot. I was thinking this was about the last minute of my life. No more reasons, no more explanations or logic. Just one last plea, and eye contact, and then wait for what happens next…

“I hear what you are saying. I get what you are saying. I am sorry I scared you… I respect what you are saying…I respect you”.

I had made eye contact. I had spoken slowly, clearly and and calmly. I don’t know how. When I was done, it was like a switch was thrown. The dark light went out. He seemed to shrink 10% in front of me. Without another word, and with a slight screech of his tires, he pulled away North on Monterey St.

I sat there for a full minute before getting out, and looking all over the street for that dinged white sedan, but I didn’t see it again.

I went in to Scotty’s for a tasteless meal (not their fault, I was operating on some weird basic circuits at this point). I was trying to make sense of what I had done, what had happened, what the relationship was. I could make no sense of it, and got stuck in a loop that I am still stuck in as I write this. I am only alive to write this, because I was smart enough to turn off smart and turn on basic charm or ass-kissing, call it what you have to.

But I am alive.

I continued on my trip, it was largely uneventful but not very successful - my GC broke down on the second day, some kind of electronic problem. But I am happy to be home and just breathing.

#real life #horror #gun violence #crystal meth

Greetings fellow Writers,

A few quick updates for you this afternoon. We apologize for the extended delay in addressing some bugs and feedback pointed out to us. But at long last, we've finally surfaced to address some nasty little splinters.

Bug Fixes

- Challenge entries in challenges that are part of a portal will now be displayed in the proper portal. This has been fixed retroactively as well - any such posts are now displayed in the appropriate portal.

- There was a bug that prevented tagged users in comments from being notified if they were tagged alongside a non-existent user (for instance if a username was misspelled). Valid users will now receive comment tag notifications regardless of who they are tagged alongside.

- Profile pictures and profile banners can now be properly updated. YIKES.

- Issues with our newsletter email system have been resolved. As such, regularly scheduled Challenges of the Week and Challenges of the Month will resume.

We apologize once again for the delay in addressing some of these issues and are eternally grateful for your patience and your words.

If there are any features, bugs, or suggestions you have, please let us know in the comments below!

Happy Writing.

Happy Saturday, Writers!

We have already received many fantastic submissions to The Prose Press. There are a limited number of spots to join The Prose Press publishing journey, so submit as soon as possible.

Our open call closes on March 15.

Check out the submission page for more information about the program and how to submit.

https://theprose.com/p/press

Have any lingering questions? Please email info@theprose.com.

Cheers,

Prose.