Day 224 - Repeat Offenders - Chapter 8.5 - (1394 words)

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REPEAT OFFENDERS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 8.5

Harold Prime walked in through the front door of his own house, knowing it was his and wasn't really as well. He laid claim to it but given only a few short hours the whole thing would be a question for philosophical minds much more suited to the task than his. For now he was not the dispossessed and the homeless man that his future promised. Within hours he would be a quantum widower, left alone by the cruel twist of proximal fate.


The way Brian had explained it there was a three hour window where he could relive the time necessary to pull off the robbery, and they would need to wait at least an hour after bank's closing to be sure that all chances of being interrupted were minimised. That meant that even at full extension he would have less than two hours to enjoy the company of Maude for potentially the last time. Like Brian he had no stomach for the killing of the other versions of people, especially himself. Having met himself already once he knew how he would feel, how he would react and what it would all mean in the moment of understanding. He wished that instant on no one, he did not wish to feel it uneducated, he did not wish it on a version of himself that was essentially the same person that he was but a few hours short of memory and knowledge.


“Honey?” His voice cracked a little, unexpectedly he felt an overwhelming emotion that came from seemingly nowhere. He had been through a lot today and had many, many more trips to make tonight.


“Harold? Is that you?” Maude's voice came from the kitchen, querying his surprise visit home in the middle of the day. “Are you ok? What's wrong? Why are you here?”


Harold smiled at the concern in her voice and he could see in his mind the furrowing above her eyes, that wearing of an emotion plain and unfettered access to all near enough to see and feel what she wanted. This was why they were so good together, she was good for him and good to him, he appreciated her for that, the way they fit together. It was not passion that drove them, they had their moments as all people did when they had been together for that long, it was compatibility that kept them entwined.


“I'm fine, I was feeling a bit under the weather and I just decided to come home and have a nap.” Harold put his wallet and keys on the occasional table in the hallway and came to his wife who came to see him, to check he was truly OK.


“Are you hot? You feel normal.” Maude was using the back of her hand on his forehead, looking for a temperature that was not there.


“I'm fine I am really, I just... I'm tired and I thought a sleep might do me some good. I think I'm just going to go to bed.” He paused and put an arm around his wife, though he would be quantum cuckolded by closing time at the bank he supposed. “You could come to bed with me.”


“Harold White, you dirty old man!” Her outrage was mocking and loud, it carried no more authenticity than the poetic approach Harold took in trying to accept his new paradigm. “Did you think you could just swan off from work, come home for some afternoon delight with your wife?” She slapped him playfully, flattered but not really interested either, she had things to do.


“No, I really just want a sleep, to be honest I would like the company.” Harold was exhausted, shocked and deeply affected by the day. Now that the spectre of some afternoon sexual dalliance was in the offing his body processed the idea and let him know that it could all be on at a moments notice, but his mind was thinking about sleep. He knew that he would be saying goodbye, at least in this life and in this version of reality and time, there was no easy way to solve this extra Harold issue, he needed to find a solution eventually, but now sleep, rest and recharging were his priorities.


“Harold White? Did you just turn down sex? You really are sick!” Maude was frowning again, switching moods with each new nugget of information about the state of her husband.


“If you are offering? It would be … ungentlemanly to turn it down.”


“And you are nothing if not the perfect gentleman.” Maude said slyly, still wondering where this came from, were it was going to go.


“Well maybe after we have had a wee nap, I just need to get a couple of … “ Harold looked at his watch and stared at it trying to figure out how long he should sleep before leaving the house again, before sneaking out and making his way to the bank, he wanted to cross over with Maude heading to her book club night so that there would be no raising the alarm until they spoke again, much, much later and after the reset or the next day.


Except that there would not be a next day for Maude, it would be this day again before she knew it. She would never know it according to the others, and this whole process left the footprints of people's existence nowhere except in the recollections of fellow anomalies. The violence, the time shifting, the science, the concept and the oddity of meeting himself was all pressing in on him as he looked at his watch, considering time.


He wavered a little on his feet, dizzy with the import of what he had to comprehend, what he had to do and what he had seen. Maude moved to shore him up, getting arm arm under him, not supporting his weight, but steadying him and guiding him to the stairs even before the words were forming in her lips.


“Harold, you are not well, you need to lie down, look at yourself, you're white.” She paused him by the hall mirror and there he saw himself reassuringly backwards in the reflection. “Look”


“Darling I'm always White, that's my name!” It was an old joke, and he had not played it with her for years, the duality of the meaning was extended beyond diagnosis and aptly described that he was who he was. An issue and a question of identity.


“Let's get you to bed.” Maude fussed him up the stairs and into their bed, he pulled her in to bed with him and she did not resist.


Harold set his phone alarm to wake him again in an hour, and then closed his eyes.


Bzzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.


Harold opened his eyes to see his phone moving on the night stand. He picked it up to turn the alarm off only to see that it was not an alarm, it was a phone call from an unknown number.


“Hello?” he croaked into the reciever.


“Where the fuck are you Harold? You better not be backing out of the deal.” It was Ivan berating him.


“What? We... have plenty of time it's only...” Harold looked at his watch and it was showing 8 pm. Then he realised, it was dark and he had slept through his alarm.


“Is someone there?” Harold Two's voice echoed in the house.


“Shit, I'm here with me!” Harold whispered into the phone. “Stay ready, I'll be there soon, we still have time, I overslept.”



“Hello? If there's someone there, I'm calling the police!” The sound of heavy footsteps came thumping up the stairs, and Harold Prime froze not wanting to make a sound as his other self came to investigate the noise in his own house.