Day 259 - Repeat Offenders - Chapter 13 - (1735 words)

 ©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

REPEAT OFFENDERS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 13

“He's awake.” The voice belonged to Brian, but to Mike's ears he could not tell which one. He opened his eyes to see Ivan looking at him, but which one.

“About time.” Said one of the Brians nearby curtly.

“Well you shouldn't have hit him so fucking hard should you?” This came from the Ivan in front of him, the one he had been with the last few days, by the look of him. Mike could see subtle differences in two men, one carrying himself with confidence and brash attitude, the other looking a little more circumspect, like he had seen something that made him think. The way Mike figured, the one who was full of attitude was his guy, and the other one? How come there were two of everyone?

“You shouldn't have fucking hit me at all.” Mike growled and at the tone of his voice every one stopped and turned their gazes to him.

“It seemed like a good idea at the tine, and now... well now it seems like a brilliant idea.” Brian, the one who had been standing nearest him, the one accused of hitting him in the head, he spoke. Brian Prime, the one who had been with them all along, or so Michael had to assume.

“Where am I then?” Mike asked after looking about the room, but getting blank stares in response. “Well?”

“Well what?” Brian came back with, a little braver than usual, because Mike was tightly bound.

“There's two of you, two of him and there's even another Harold White at home in bed, so where the fuck is ...me.” It was not a question. It was an accusation.

“Well.” Brian Prime said, and then sat down.

“There's a few things you should know, before we let you go.” Said the other Brian, his voice sounded the same but he also sounded different. Mike could not quite put his finger on what it was. Something was missing, or softer but there was definitely something not the same. Not exactly.

“We are not letting him go.” Brian Prime said categorically.

“It's not up to you though is it?” Brian Two said, with an edge to his voice that made him come a little closer to the image of Brian that Michael held. Was that the difference? Brian Prime was angrier? More fearful or driven? Something was pushing him to a tension and attitude that the other version did not have.

“Look.” Brian Prime was trying to sound reasonable but everyone could see he was barely managing to maintain the rage he obviously felt at not being in control of the situation. “I have been at this longer than any of you, and I have known Mike longer than any of you, at least in this scenario.” He nodded at Ivan to acknowledge the long standing relationship but neither of the Ivans Prime, or Two, made any challenge to this statement. Michael was not following how the dynamic of these personalities had changed so rapidly.

Harold White remained silent through the conversation, sitting at the desk and looking at his hands. Was he still being a pussy about the dead cop? It would all go away soon enough, as soon as the time was reset then...

Wait? How long had he been out? When was the reset going to happen? Had it happened already?

“How long have I been out? How LONG!!??” Michael screamed the repetition of his question, frustration coursing through him despite leaving no possible window to answer the query.

“Not that long.” Ivan Prime answered, the Ivan that had been working with Michael, by his estimation.

“But long enough.” Ivan Two said, breaking his silence with regret in his voice from the table.

“How much time have we got before we need to reset? How long has it been since the Cop? How long since we came here?” Mike was the only one who did not know and the look that danced around the faces assembled made him acutely aware that he was missing something.

“It doesn't matter,” he said out loud and referring to what he did not know. He just wanted to get the reset on the clock. Bring the world back to zero, so to speak and clean up the mess outside, then they could get all the pieces sorted, get the team back on a even keel. Get them back in line, get out of this chair and get them back on the fucking programme.

As he was thinking this the rage in him was rising, and it was impossible for him to not show the anger and violence seeping through his pores. Brian Prime struck out a hand and with a wavering finger of righteousness he jabbed it harshly at Michael. “See? You see that? You want to untie that? Let him loose on us? Is that it? I won't let you risk my life!”

“Tell him.” Ivan Two, the seated and more quiet of the two was speaking up. “Tell him the answer to his question. Tell him where... he is. The other him. Tell him that.”

Brian Prime went silent and looked at his shoes. Now all eyes in the room left Michael and were trained on Brian Prime. The look they all gave him was variations on a theme, the answer to that question about where the other Michael was garnered a strong reaction in all of them.

“Where?” Mike was curious more than angry, what was so bad that made everyone silent like this, even the arrogant Brian, Brian Prime not the more measured version of Brian.

“Where are all these extra copies of us coming from? Did you fuck up the settings? Is that why you rushed to get back here? To cover your own ass? Is that it? You fucked it up didn't you?” Mike was watching keenly for the response but there was none coming.

So that was not it – this was not a mistake?

“If this is not a mistake then...” Mike was trying to work it out in his head. “Then the extra people is deliberate?” What the fuck is going on? Will someone just bloody tell me?”

“Probably good you are tied up then.” Harold finally spoke and looked at Mike with a fire in his eyes. “That cop you killed? He's dead, and he's going to stay dead.”

Mike struggled in the chair. “All the more reason to let me out of this and get us back in time and get the mess cleaned the fuck up! Come on!”

“He is dead. All the other people you killed, we killed … well I say we but in reality I haven't killed anyone.” Harold sounded more despairing about that fact than he should have.

“Neither have I” Said Brian Two who then looked pointedly at Brian Prime, who blushed angrily trying to hide his face.

“How long have we been here?” Mike was not getting it.

“It doesn't matter how long we have been here. It never mattered how long each trip was...”

“Well it did to me.” interrupted Brian Prime, interrupted his other self.

“Yes, but your … situation aside. We never actually travelled in time. None of the crimes, murders, assaults and other messing about with people's lives, none of them ever reset themselves.”

“What?” Mike's voice was barely above a whisper. He didn't understand how this was possible, yet their faces screamed it was true.

“Brian, what are we calling you?” Brian Two asked his counterpart.

“Prime. Brian Prime.” He seemed embarrassed.

“Really? Jesus, get one fatal disease and I grow all pretentious too?” Brian Two made no effort to hide the distaste for the older, more affected version of himself.

“Fatal what?” Mike's head was spinning.

“We never travelled in time, we just jumped to a new copy of the universe based on the copy point. We moved on and left a hole of everything we took and everyone we hurt, but without us. Each dimensional copy we leave behind ourselves is a mess. A fucking mess. And the bodies? They're still there. The jewels? In each copy, the owners are looking for them. Ivan? That Ivan over there, that would be Ivan Prime, though maybe not to you, but anyway the one you left behind when he got all uppity? He was left behind holding the bag and the fingers all pointed to him.”

Mike felt faint. He was not sure what was worse out of all the things he was hearing, but he could see Brian Prime, the self serving scientist who lied to him, lied to him repeatedly and then... wait, what?

“So where is my copy?” Mike clicked that there was no explaining why there was only one of him, why the did not run into copies of themselves all the time, how did work?

“Well that is the question now isn't it. How many people have you killed today? I mean since you started time travelling in this day?” Brian Two was looking at Brian Prime, though he wanted Mike to answer, his gaze was fixed on himself, who could hold no one's gaze.

“A handful, I don't know? What the fuck is going on here?”

“Every time you have 'travelled' and not met yourself? It's because he, I in the future, killed you as part of the 'calibration' process, so you jump in and the versions of you in the new universe you inhabit? They are gone, displaced or removed or evaporated in quantum moment. So you killed what a handful? He's killed as many trips as you have made, times two for the each of you.”

The weight of that settled on Mike. There was one point though.

“Three, times three because we never saw any other versions of him, of... oh fuck. You. You are the other version? He's been killing us and making copies of himself?”

The full horror of how many murdered versions of himself lay on fabric of their altered reality sank in and Mike released every ounce of tension in his body and the ropes eased and hung looser for that moment.