Day 231 - Resurfacing - Chapter 1 (1180 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.

Resurfacing

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 1

“Are you dead?” I asked, knowing the answer already but hoping for something else.
“Yeah” She looked back into me with her eyes that were as blue as that lake had been that summer.
Death made some bizarre sense to me now, the only thing that could make sense these days. It's been eighteen years, and she's still a schoolgirl where I became, what? Middle aged? A middle aged man with a schoolgirl obsession?
Jesus. Could I be a bigger cliché?
She's sixteen, a girl in the middle of her teens and despite the years engulfing the time between us, I'm right here with her in my own sixteen year old mind. The feelings of intense, bursting emotions that formed that summer, that lay unforgiving in my chest, threatened to explode into life again, overwhelming me once more. Teenagedom had been like that, everything was better and worse than later life. The lows were cavernous and the highs were stratospheric, this was all there was and all there could be when you were that age. Now in my late thirties it was exhilarating to feel like that again, to believe in the power of nothing so much that it clouded out reason and responsibility.
There it is again, we are hand in hand, though I'm not sure we ever got that far? Did we progress to public displays of affection? We knew that we were interested, we knew we were all we had and could ever have, but did every one else? Did they even need to know that?
Walking to school, a slacker attitude developed in the later years, we called them forms then, I have no idea what you would call them now. They were, we were, sixteen that year and now it still feels like we are, or maybe I am. She is after all dead, we had established that already.
Regrets have followed me down through the years, and they tailed me from this moment onwards. I don't understand why I am here again now, and I'm not sure I really want to. This is a dream, a delusion or a miracle. Either one of those options would potentially be destroyed by knowing it fully, and that is too high a price to pay, to stop feeling the sunburst of emotion. The whole sensation is simply unreal, and far too real to be real. I know that makes little sense, but that is the paradigm I am faced with, I know inside but I really would rather remain in blissful ignorance.
She smiles at me and it is moving from her eyes to my cheeks, it is an infection I happily take on and once more a flood of feeling washes around me. My heart is beating as a gentle hand touches my arm, her fingerprints embedding themselves in the skin of my forearm, or so my romantic imagination would have me believe.
“My little cauliflower.” She says, laughing her way through the name. It was a pet name, one we used to amuse ourselves back in the day. Well, more realistically it was a name she used to amuse herself when referring to me, it sounded romantic in French, le petit chou-fleur, but in English it was a dull, pasty white and tasteless monstrosity.
Her arm goes around me and nestles in the small of my back, I can feel it there with every little movement we make now as we walk along the road, not heading to the school grounds but to the lake, it was too good a day to not go there and at least see how beautifully it took to the day.
That makes more sense now, I'm back in the day, that day and reliving the past through this... whatever it is. That day was just like this, even though it was eighteen years ago this is bigger than recalling the events, not obsessing but re-experiencing them. Recreating them maybe? In a way more real than reality could afford almost two decades later on?
I should stop this, but I can't and I won't. I have dreamed about this for so long, it haunted my waking and sleeping hours for every day since that one. Now that I have it again, the feeling and the place, no matter how mad it may be? That is nothing I want to let go of, nothing I could possibly allow myself to let go of. There's a connection now, a deeper line between us that never existed when we were here the first time. The electricity of touch, well beyond the hormonal rush and the tingling excitement of puberty taking control, is harsher and brighter than ever before. That smile, the one that dances in her eyes and infects me with it's strength, that is like a lifeline to me and I can feel the tension as she pulls on it with every muscle movement.
It isn't pain, and pain had been the one constant that dogged me from this day forward, the hurt that would not die, the reminder than floated behind my eyes, always there but not forever in direct sight. It hovered persistently and while I never accepted it's presence, the relentless reminder of things gone wrong, it became like a companion to me, never not by my side.
Until now that was, now it was... gone.
Light fills my eyes as the arm snaked around me constricts, pulling and twisting me willingly into an embrace. The light is bright and full, but also soft and warm. Like a Hollywood version of heaven all clouds and white but all encompassing without the glare. Her hair is soft to my cheeks as she nestles down towards my neck, she's just a little shorter than me, I have grown so little since that time. Nothing much has changed expect the shortening of my life expectancy perhaps.
“I miss you.” She says, but she is not looking at me, but at the lake. We are on the path leading to the reserve, the pine scented alleys of the peninsula and the nature walk, signposted and well worn. There's an opening, a clearing that shows the glassy surface of the water itself, calm and serene.
Does she miss me or does she miss the place? Given the way we left things it seems to me that she could be equally at home with either situation.
The fear and doubt in that question is swelling in me, the emotions all teen-aged and overblown are taking away all the intensity from the loved up reality where I had been so happy only moments ago. The light dimmed, the air chilled and the lake went from glass to tears. Again it's an over romanticised version of the way things are, a pantomime of life overacted and overplayed. All I want now is to go home, I know it and now she does too, that's how close the connection is.
She kisses me.
And I no longer desire to go home.

I am home.

Day 230 - Repeat Offenders - Chapter 9.4 - (2074 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 9.4

 “We need to access the machine, I need to access the machine, if we can do that then we have a shot at getting out of this mess.” Brian was looking through the door at the device, the one that Ivan knew about already, the one that he was sure was the only one until now.


“I have an idea.” Ivan looked at George with a careful stare, wondering how far he would go.


“What? You needn't think I'm going to help.” George rolled his eyes, “Why would I?”


“We could use your help, and you could use ours to make this whole mess go away.” Ivan sounded reasonable, but there was no way the cop was going to just roll over and let them away with the crime.


“Do you understand the point of the … what it is we are doing?” Ivan asked.


“It doesn't matter, you are breaking the law, I uphold the law, end of story.”


“Only if there is a law broken to uphold, what if there was not a law broken? Then what? You'd have nothing to enforce would you?”


George shook his head, “We're past that, you HAVE broken the law, there is a crime to be solved, well not solved, I KNOW it was you, there's justice to be served.”


Brian watched both men and said nothing, he could see where the conversation was going, and it was not in the best interests of any of them to have him contradict their reasoning. That would come soon enough when the plan did not work, not the way they thought it would.


“What if there was no crime?”


“But there IS!” George was adamant.


“Okay, but isn't the ultimate form of crime stopping, prevention? Isn't that the best form of … whatever it is you do?”

“Yes, I suppose it is but...” George was tired of the conversation, he was in shock from all he had seen and experienced, and the idea of a ideological discussion on crime and punishment was a wearisome task he simply did not want to undertake. Just go along with it, he thought, just let it go and arrest them as soon as you can. “... fine, the BEST solution is to prevent the crime from happening in the first place. Ok you happy now?”


“We can do that, we can stop it from happening again. Well for the first time I guess.”


“I can stop it from happening again by putting your asses in jail.” George snorted.


“Except we just need to get to the machine and reset the time, if the last setting was saved, then we can go back and this time take nothing. No crime no problem right? All you need to do is let us use the machine.”


“Bullshit.” George was not having it.


“No, it really isn't. We reset the machine out there and take us back a few days and we get ahead of the whole thing, then there is no crime and no one is hurt, nothing is missing and we are all good again. You can pretend like the whole thing never happened.” Ivan looked to Brian for a reassurance, an agreement, but he remained stoic and unresponsive. At least he was not disagreeing, which meant that either the machine was capable of the feat, or that he would be complicit in deceiving the detective.


“I can't pretend like the whole thing never happened, maybe I can't prove all ...” he gestured around himself, “... this happened, but maybe I just don't need to. We know you are the guy, we have video of you and eye witness accounts, you can spin whatever mad story you want. I can't prove this? Neither can you sunshine, so we are at an im-fucking-passe, capiche?”


“We'll do this the hard way then.” Ivan sighed and flicked his head backwards, in disgust. “Can never trust a cop to do the right thing can you?”




“Clear the room or the cop gets it!” Ivan shouted through the open door at the very surprised officers on the other side of the open doorway. They had been standing there, battering at the door trying to break it open, when suddenly there was a gun shot and a shout from the other side.


The door opened slightly and the face of a bruised and battered looking George, the lead detective on the scene, came into view. Out of sight was the person holding a gun hard up against the cop's head. There was no mistaking the positioning, there was no mistaking the message being sent.


“Clear the fucking room!” Ivan's voice rose several octaves and there was an edge of panic in it, acted but convincingly so.


“Just clear the room already.” George was not feeling that threatened, and he was confused and unsure of just what was happening, or what would happen next. As long as the guy they unfroze kept his fingers on the buttons of the coffin thing, they could stop time at their will apparently and then the whole 'struggling' thing would be a moot point. Better to let them get what they want and clear the room before anyone else gets hurt. “Go on, get out, all of you, clear the room to the alleyway and close the door behind you. That'll be far enough, just get out of sight.”


“Are you sure? We can ...”


“Just FUCKING GO!” George was getting impatient, this whole process just needed to be over. He didn't know if the mad fools with this mad device could deliver what they said they could? Maybe if they did though, maybe that was just the best option, just reset everything and start again. That idea certainly had it's appeal to him now, he just wanted the whole thing to go away.


It did not take long for the cops to clear the room, Brian was watching from a closed circuit tv monitor from the suspended animation room, another surprise to Ivan, and to George as well. It was hidden in a panel in the wall, accessible by another fingerprint scanner, and only keyed to Brian himself. When he was sure that the building was clear, he left the room and went straight to the machine, the big one in the main space and hurriedly entered a new set of figures into it.


“Done.” He said finally and nodded to a bank of monitors where now the camera from the alleyway showed the police presence frozen once more.


“Nice trick, but all it's done is give us access to this room. And you said we were going to back in time? I don't see that happening.” George's voice was dripping in sarcasm.


“Seriously, dude. We can freeze and unfreeze time at your whim, and you still act like this whole thing is a trick? Come on man what would it take?” Ivan shook his head and put the gun down on the table. Walking away from it quickly and leaving it open and exposed.


George bolted for the table, snatched up the gun and as soon as he lifted it he realised it was empty. “Shit.” he said and dropped it again.


“Yeah I took the liberty, just in case. What would your colleagues think if they knew that they were bluffed with an unloaded gun?” Ivan laughed.


“Would you two please just shut it for a minute? Or ten?” Brian was not looking at them but was running a number of jobs on several screens near the main machine.


“What's the hurry? Don't we have all the time in the world? Time travellers and all that?” George sat down, suddenly weary and over the whole thing once again. The adrenalin he got from the grabbing of the gun, the attempt to regain control of the situation was now gone and he just wanted to sleep, his muscles and his brain felt like lead.


“We have, well we do and we don't. We have to be very very careful from here on in. This is not going the way I really intended, and it has consequences, this business.”


“No it doesn't, not if we do it right.” Ivan was quick to correct the scientist, but for his own sake more than a sense of correctness or accuracy.


“How many people have you killed, Ivan was it? Ivan? How many?”


“None. Not this time anyway, the others don't count.” Ivan said off handedly.


“Jesus. You are a sociopath.” George was not shocked.


“Hypothetically, if all the people you killed in all the different time versions, the ones that have reset, how many have you killed?” Brian kept working while he asked.


Ivan stayed silent, not liking the direction his mind was taking. “I don't know, I can't remember exactly. They didn't count.”


“Everyone counts!” George shouted.


“Remember what we said before copper? If there's no crime there's nothing to solve. These murders don't exist anymore. They kind of never did. They're not even murders, not really. They are not 'events' I think Brains called them, only things that happen in the anomaly field, things that are marked as anomaly events are real, everything else is not. So not they don't count, because I killed them, but then they were not 'events' so they went back to the way they were before I came along.”


“You honestly believe that? You are mad.”


“You know what?” Ivan nodded in agreement. “I just might be, or I might have been. I get that now I really do. The idea that you can kill with zero consequence? That is a powerful, and I mean POWERFUL, thing to have for any man. It changes you, it changed me, Brian saw it.” He nodded at the scientist who looked up for the first time, and shook his head bewildered. “Not this one, but the other one, he saw it and that's how this all went, pear-shaped. You would not believe how good it is.”


“Killing people? You sick fuck!” George was quietly scanning the room every time he shook his head or turned away in disgust. Looking for an out, a weapon or something to turn the tide in his favour.


“You must have killed people before? Haven't you ever shot someone in the line of duty?” Brian asked this question, not looking at the men any longer, still fiddling with the device.


“Twice.” George admitted.


“And how did it feel?” Ivan asked, knowing the answer.


“Fucking awful, but that's because I am a human being with real feelings.” George stood his moral ground.


“Would you take them back?” Ivan asked, leaning forward intently.


“What? The shootings? No, in each case they were righteous. There was more than just one life at stake in both...” George stopped explaining and went silent. He had no need to justify his actions to these men.


“What if you could though? What if you could take them back, I mean all the way back and try the moment again where you could resolve the situation without killing anyone. There's always a way, you may not have seen it at the time, but I bet now you know that there was another way? If only you had the time, the knowledge or the benefit of hindsight? Am I right?” Ivan pressed his case.


“I don't know.”


“I do. That's why there is no one dead this time around.”


“This time?” George sighed.


“I have hit that bank, uh four times I think? Or is it three? I can't think straight, it's been a long day. Each time there were deaths except this time. There were none, I didn't really understand Brains, I mean Brian's reasoning, but after being caught short like this I kind of do now. We did it without hurting anyone, there is good reason for that.” Ivan coughed and cleared his throat. “Imagine this happening if I had left a trail of bodies behind? Could you imagine that?” Ivan went red in the face, he really did not want to and he tried to force a laugh that would not come.