The Rock

The Rock

J. Stephen Milas

(1,000)



Dr. Fred Bascom walked into his geology lab after finishing lunch on a Friday afternoon. The students had been released earlier than normal to go home from the University of Alabama’s campus for Spring Break. Bascom entered the room as a breeze came in through the open windows, which let in the sun from a beautiful spring day.

Bascom himself was eager to take a week off from his minerology courses and spend some time at his cabin in Colorado. He had all the freedom to go too, being recently divorced.

“It’s me or the rocks,” his wife had said, dramatically. Bascom didn’t answer on that fateful night and she stormed out.

“Oh well,” the professor said to himself as he walked to his desk in the back of the room. He hung his white coat on a hook and slung his blazer over the back of his chair. Bascom shuffled through some papers on his desk, trying to find some exams to put in the file cabinet when one of the school’s secretaries, Wanda, entered through the front of the room. Her blonde hair, usually done up in a pony tail, was dangling over her shoulders.

“Good afternoon Dr. Bascom,” her youthful voice filled the room. Bascom studied the tight business skirt she was wearing; after all he was single now.

“Yes, Wanda,” Bascom smiled, removed his glasses, and set them on the desk without looking down.

“Is Dr. Florence in?” Wanda asked. She sounded fatigued and ready for her own spring break.

Bascom pictured her sun bathing on a beach in Panama City. He snapped out of it. “Excuse me?”

Wanda looked down at a piece of paper she was holding and then back up. “There’s a package here for a Dr. Florence, I don’t know where his office is.”

“Florence hasn’t been with this department, let alone with the university since 1978,” Bascom put his glasses back on and walked over to take a look. Sure enough, the secretary held a paper with Florence’s name on it. Florence had gone on an expedition to the Far East and was never heard from again. “Well, where’s the package?”

Wanda stepped into the hall and pointed at a box against the wall. Bascom told her he’d take it and she left in a hurry. Bascom felt like being a pervert, so he watched her walk down the hall until she disappeared.

The cardboard box wasn’t very big or heavy. The old man picked it up and set it on one of the lab tables. The package was addressed to T. Florence with the School of Geology’s address on it crudely written in marker. The flaps on the box were taped down and were cut with ease by a pair of scissors. Bascom reached through some bubble wrap and tissue paper to find a mid-sized rock. It looked like granite in color, but it was smooth and gum-drop shaped. Two black circles and a straight line were painted on it, forming an expressionless face.

Bascom chuckled. “Cute,” he said and picked up the rock, which weighed about a pound. He noticed a yellow piece of paper under it. If you opened the box, it’s already too late. It made me put it in the mail. I didn’t know where else to send it. Get out now before it makes you do something bad. Bascom held the rock in his left hand and picked up the note with his right, studying it. A wry smile crossed his lips. “Florence you turned into a real nutball didn’t you?” he muttered.

Bascom dropped the note in the box and when he looked back at the rock he found that the two round circles had become half circles with the straight edge at a forty-five degree angle. The rock looked angry. Bascom did a double take and the eyes were round again. He dropped the rock in the box and left it on the lab table to put away later.

The exams still had to be filed, so Bascom walked to the back of the lab and found them on his desk. He started straightening the stack of papers when he felt like he was being watched. When he looked up he saw that the rock was on the table, outside of the box, and that the half circle angry eyes had returned to its face. Bascom’s jaw dropped and he froze, not quit knowing how to react. He was sure he was alone in the building, so there was no one to notify.

Bascom started to walk left, but jerked to a stop like a football player juking out his opponent. The professor ducked down out of the angry face’s sight and started crawling on all fours across the tile floor. He made sure to stay behind the lab tables and finally got to the one he had set the box on, approaching from behind.

Bascom stood up and let out a startled cry seeing that the rock was already facing him, glaring at him. The mouth had changed from a straight line to a frown. Bascom dropped back down and hugged his legs against his chest. “Wanda,” he called. His voice briefly echoed, but no one answered.

Now, what I want you to do is take me outside. It looks like a nice day and I’ve been packaged for a long time.

Bascom again froze. “Is someone there?” he asked. No answer. He quickly hopped up, threw the rock in the box, and locked it in a closet in the front of the room. The run to the closet left him short of breath, so he leaned against the door for a moment before walking to the hall to escape the building. He locked the lab door shut and before he ran away, he saw through the door’s window that the rock was again sitting on the lab table looking at him.