by Sean McMahon
‘Thank you, Harold,’ said Malcolm. ‘Your fiancée and animal are fine by the way.’
‘We’ll get to that in a minute,’ Hal’s eyes clearly showing a notable mix of wonder that a plan guaranteed by its very design to fail had actually worked, and fear over giving his home address to a serial killer.
Kara glanced over and noted Hal’s expression was the same look of dread one might display after realising a psychotic ex-girlfriend had acquired the login details for all of your social media accounts.
‘You can put the gun down now, Kara,’ more than a hint of warning in Malcolm’s tone. ‘It’s not as if it can do any real harm.’
‘I don’t know, I’d reason a gas-propelled metal ball-bearing at point-blank range could do notable damage to an eyeball…’
Malcolm grinned, narrowing his eyes as if attempting to stare directly into her soul.
She reaffirmed her grip, ready for firing.
‘It’s been three weeks since you left,’ began Hal, eager to diffuse the tension somewhat, knowing that testing Kara was not the smartest of moves on Malcolm’s part. ‘We didn’t think you’d come back.’
‘It seems you haven’t quite been the beacon of honesty and transparency you were selling yourself as,’ said Kara.
Malcolm sighed, assuming they were referring to the thoughts Hal had gleaned from him.
‘Good show Harold, very clever. How much did you see?’
‘What?’ said Hal, having all but forgotten that, given how much time had passed. ‘This isn’t about the little mind-meld exercise. It’s about past-you. Dark Restarter you. He’s been stalking us since you left!’
‘Yeah,’ said Kara. ‘He kept saying the end was coming.’
‘Hardly news,’ said Malcolm, dismissing it immediately.
‘There’s more,’ said Fearne quietly. ‘He knows you’re here Malcolm. He said…he said we’re going to die and you’ve already seen how it happens.’
Malcolm grumbled in acknowledgement of the inconvenience of that.
‘The fog seems to have…intensified…’ noted Malcolm.
‘It took hold pretty quick a few restarts after you left,’ said Kara.
‘If there are things you haven’t told us,’ said Hal, pressing the issue, ‘now’s the time to talk Malc’.’
Malcolm cleared his throat.
It was hard to argue with how his past-self knowing his future-self was here changed things.
‘Of course there are things I’ve kept from you! From all of you. I have just as much to lose if my past-self is left unabated. If we fail here, the future my past-self is so focused on creating will come to pass. I have spent a year reviewing where his actions will lead us all, looking for a loophole that we can expose to destroy that version of myself, so that I can become this version of myself.’ Malcolm offered up a pregnant pause to allow them to absorb the ramifications of that. ‘If we do not defeat him I will cease to be, and then you will be left alone in the dark to fight an iteration of me that does not possess patience, that would not entertain – let alone allow – a childish girl to hold a gun to his head. So perhaps we can truly begin to take this seriously instead of wasting time fighting each other? In the hope that we can prevent the end of all our days? Would that be acceptable? Are you capable of acting like adults for once in your damn lives to…’
Malcolm fell to his knees, three weeks’ worth of altered memories boring their way into his skull like thousands of hungry beetles.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Kara, aiming the barrel of the gun into the sky for a moment.
Malcolm experienced another bout of debilitating anachronistic nausea, and growled in what appeared to be barely suppressed agony, before slowly lowering the palms of his hands from his temples, releasing the firm pressure he had been applying.
‘No…’ said Malcolm forebodingly.
‘What did you see?’ asked Hal, knowing an inserted memory when he saw one.
Whatever it was, it must have been big.
‘When are we?!’ asked Malcolm urgently.
‘By our count, roughly our 202nd restart,’ said Kara, not understanding the question.
‘Not what restart, what time!’ he snapped, with the same level of panic Hal often displayed when realising he’d pressed the snooze button on his alarm so many times that he was roughly 44 hours late for work.
‘Just how much coffee did you drink in the future?’ said Hal. ‘It’s Saturday, half eight-ish.’
‘You need to get to Fir Lodge,’ barked Malcolm. ‘Now!’
Hal and Kara stared at each other, a look of “why” on their faces.
‘Fearne, you’re with me,’ added Malcolm feverishly.
‘What?’ exclaimed Fearne. ‘No way!’
‘I can’t trigger a restart in this form, I need one of you with me at the boundary line! Harold, Kara, delay him for as long as you can.’
How could he have been so stupid? Leaving them all like this. Changing his own past merely by his absence.
‘I…’ added Malcolm. Struggling to find the words. ‘I had no idea so much time would pass for you all by doing this. I am…’
‘Sorry?’ said Hal, offering up the only word that fit the bill. ‘You can say that you know? You don’t have to be such a little bitch about it.’
‘Responsible,’ corrected Malcolm, not ready to make that leap.
Fifteen restarts. It may as well have been fifteen years.
‘What’s he planning?’ asked Kara. ‘What are we walking into?’
‘He’s going to kill you all,’ said Malcolm simply. ‘Every last one of you and your friends.’
‘We can stop him,’ said Hal casually. ‘We’ll leave now and prepare before he gets there.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Malcolm. ‘It has already begun!’
Both Hal and Kara looked as if they were going to ask more questions, but seeing Malcolm this way, like a man who for the first time in his life was losing control, the wheel of time having been pulled from his white-knuckled hands and pushing him out of the vehicle…
‘Just go!’ barked Malcolm, not wishing to engage in a poorly timed display of democracy.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The Fir Lodge Massacre
202nd Restart – Saturday, August 25th, 2018, 8:27pm
The Dark Restarter watched as his alive-self stepped onto the gravel driveway of Fir Lodge. A party was in full swing, and he could sense the reluctance brewing in his doppelgänger’s posture.
He leaned in close to himself, whispering tenderly into his own ear.
‘No turning back. Proceed,’ he said, placing his hand through his own back, causing his past-self to shiver.
It seemed to have the desired effect as he shook off the self-doubt and made his way closer to the lodge.
Malcolm strode ahead of the past incarnation of himself, satisfied that no further convincing was needed, slipped in through the side entrance and made his way up the staircase to the upper level. He grinned as the light above the dining table reflected off the phone screen, strutting happily towards it as he passed through the young man standing in his way.
Gavin shivered, his eyes darting around suspiciously, fear brewing in his heart for a reason he couldn’t quite fathom.
‘Something…country I think,’ the Dark Restarter chirped, as if addressing Gavin directly.
He concentrated, placing his finger onto the phone, a solitary red spark dancing from his fingertip, as he changed what was currently playing to something far more fitting, remembering fondly the day he had learned that he could manipulate electronic devices when so close to his physical form.
As the music began, he waited until he heard it, then smiled with joy as the first scream reached his ears.
*
The Restarters, minus Future Malcolm and Fearne – who were hopefully well on their way to the Restart Point – arrived at the lodge of their shared past in record time. Just in time, in fact, to witness another Malcolm wal
king towards the double entrance doors of the lodge.
‘Which Malcolm is that?’ said Kara, hoping Hal could somehow clarify. This was all becoming far too confusing.
Her question was answered as whichever Malcolm it was they were spying on pulled down on the door handle and let himself inside.
‘Okay, said Hal, ‘so that’s “Alive-Malcolm.” Restarter-Malcolm wouldn’t be able to open the door like that.’
‘Unless he’s holding a charge.’
‘Dammit, good point,’ said Hal, realising she was right. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he added, running towards the now open entrance door.
Kara rushed after him, as Hal quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, lobbing it at the Malcolm who was walking in front of them. The phone passed straight through the killer’s shoulder, connecting with the wall of the lodge and landing on the floor with what should have been a clatter, but wasn’t a clatter at all, thanks to the soundless nature of the phone’s existence.
‘Well, that clears that up,’ said Hal, entirely unaware of how little things were going to be cleared up at all in approximately eight seconds time. ‘This is Alive Malcolm. Malcolm 1.0.’
Kara noticed how Malcolm was mumbling to himself.
‘He’s receiving instructions.’
‘Never a good sign.’
*
August 25th 2018
Peter was interrupted mid-knock, as he tapped on Hal’s door looking for a charger, when he felt a sharp pain in his chest, akin to a trapped nerve becoming rambunctious.
He looked down and saw the horrifying sight of a steel blade protruding from the centre of his body, glistening with a sickly-looking claret which he just about realised was his own blood before his body hit the floor, vaguely aware that someone was screaming from the top of the staircase behind him, just as the sound of Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” reached his ears.
Regrettably he was dead before the vocals kicked in.
Will recoiled in terror, clutching his pool cue as if he had walked in on something he really wished he hadn’t.
Malcolm glared at him, unknowingly mimicking his Dark Restarter-self and baring his shark-like teeth as Will scrambled backwards, losing his footing and pressing himself against the rear wall of the lodge, frozen in fear.
Past-Hal came out of his bedroom to see what all the fuss was about as the very real Malcolm span on his heel, closing the gap like a hungry velociraptor. In a move notably un-raptor-like, he placed Hal in a headlock before slitting his throat with all of the compassion of someone cutting a loose thread on a T-shirt.
Hal clutched at his neck, trying to stop the life from escaping his body as Malcolm discarded him against the wall of the corridor. The last thing Hal could think of as he fell to his knees being how he hadn’t heard this song in ages.
*
202nd Restart
The Restarters observed Malcolm’s murder of both Peter and Hal’s younger selves, unable to do anything but watch as he continued to unleash hell in the physical world. A billowing crack of thunder blasted through the sky above them, attacking Hal and Kara’s eardrums with all the discretion of man attempting to jump over a chained gangway in a supermarket but misjudging the barrier’s height by a few inches and colliding with the floor, with only the carton of eggs he had been clutching to break his fall.
“That was a really shit day,” thought Hal, remembering that particular shopping trip all too well.
‘What was that?!’ said Kara, looking upwards to the ceiling.
‘Maybe it’s me?’ said Hal.
‘I doubt that, unless you’ve been moonlighting as Zeus in your downtime?’
‘Funny. Not me literally. I mean, I’m not meant to die yet. If I die now, how can I be here now when–’
But his thought was cut short, as a static fog rolled over the hedges outside the lodge and crept into the building through the open door on the opposite side of the room, on the prowl for something.
“Or someone,” thought Hal, taking a tentative step backwards.
‘What does Malcolm think he’s doing?!’ shouted Kara above a second crack of thunder.
‘Working theory? I guess he figures if he takes everyone off the board…’
‘There won’t be a board to worry about anymore…’
Kara was unable to deny it was smart, despite being literal overkill.
‘Oh my crap,’ muttered Hal, spotting a second Malcolm at the top of the staircase on the floor above him.
Hal dragged Kara by her arm, pulling her out of view to the side of the front entrance doors, their bodies pressed awkwardly against each other, as the energy from their contact crackled between them.
She looked into his eyes, searching for an explanation, noting the wildness within them as he glared intently over her right shoulder.
Thanks to their proximity to each other, coupled with the charge they now shared, she caught a brief waft of his aftershave.
Kara was about to pull away and ask what the hell he was doing, until she too craned her head around the corner of the door and saw exactly why he had grabbed her so abruptly.
*
The Dark Restarter jumped down the stairs, barking a laugh.
‘That’s the spirit, Malcolm!’ he shouted to himself, a delirious edge to his voice. ‘Behind you. Top left.’
His past-self subliminally acknowledged the instruction from his Restarter-self just as Jon brought down the pool cue hard, aiming for Malcolm’s head.
Malcolm dodged the incoming attack, and it collided instead with his shoulder causing the killer to growl ferociously in agitation. He lashed out in response, his duel-wielded blades flashing at an alarming speed.
Jon moved to his right, grabbed the wrist of his assailant, then used Malcolm’s own momentum against him, pulling him forward and sending him stumbling towards the staircase, which Malcolm grabbed to support himself.
‘He’s your biggest threat, Malcolm,’ the Dark Restarter warned himself. ‘Take him out quickly, and the rest will fall easily.’
Alive-Malcolm nodded, seemingly understanding the trans-dimensional instructions he was receiving, assuming it was his own inner-monologue that was behind the wheel, rather than that of his malevolent time-travelling counterpart.
Jon and Malcolm began circling each other, walking around the staircase, which Jon was using as a shield of sorts. A shield that simply couldn’t last forever.
*
202nd Restart
Hal and Kara ran to the side of the lodge, the latter freezing on the spot, peering up to the balcony, an idea forming.
‘Give me a boost,’ said Kara.
Hal shrugged, and placed his hand on her shoulder, the displaced energy causing her to recoil.
It was far more powerful this close to the lodge, and she remembered her alive-self must have been mere metres away in the kitchen.
‘Not that kind of boost, the other kind!’ said Kara, jerking her head in the direction of the balcony.
‘Oh, my bad.’
Hal squatted down and nodded his head at his clasped hands indicating he was ready for her to place her foot into them.
With the extra height afforded by Hal’s assistance, she attempted to gain purchase on the floor above her, her fingers a few inches short from success.
‘Higher,’ she said,
‘I’m trying, you’re…heavier than I–’
‘Oh no you don’t. Don’t you dare put this on me! It’s not my fault you never work out.’
‘Fair point.’
And with a concerted effort fuelled by not wanting to look as weak as he was, Kara was finally able to grab at the lip of the balcony with her fingertips, before awkwardly pulling herself up and over the wooden barrier.
‘Now what,’ said Hal, sending the words up to her in a whisper devoid of sense, what with it being louder than if he had just said the words normally.
‘Head around the side. I’ll keep an eye on the top floor.’
Hal saluted sar
castically, but Kara had already moved inside, and he huffed at the wasted effort.
Darting around the rear side of the lodge, he glanced through the rear side-entrance doors, the mirrored layout of the lodge mercifully offering a multitude of entry points, and ducked down low as he dashed across the doorway, now back-to-back with Will, both of them separated by the wall of the building.
Hal closed his eyes and concentrated.
‘Come on Will, get involved mate!’ his words only a whisper as they left his lips, but that of a scream in the form of his projected thoughts.
*
August 25th, 2018
Will shook his head, the fogginess clouding his thoughts expelled by an idea that had just been incepted into his brain.
The monster before him had his back to him, and Will realised now was the time to act.
‘Come on Will, get involved mate,’ he said to himself.
Clutching the pool cue tightly, he bellowed a poorly conceived war cry that was completely out of character for him. Pool cue raised, he sought to bring it down ferociously on their unexpected guest, but Malcolm had been granted an advanced preview of Will’s intentions, thanks to him announcing his arrival and diminishing even the faintest trace of elemental surprise.
Malcolm casually stepped to the left of his hapless attacker, dropping the knife in his left hand, and grabbed the pool cue from Will with a growl. Meanwhile, Jon took advantage of Will’s distraction, ceasing their game of musical staircases, running towards his would-be killer at full speed.
Malcolm turned back to face Jon, swiping savagely at his forearm with his second blade, a sickly red spewing from the wound, before sending his knife-wielding fist into Jon’s stomach, winding him so completely that it brought him to his knees.
*
202nd Restart
Finding it difficult to see, what with the ever-increasing fog clouding his vision, Hal seized the moment; with both the Dark Restarter barking orders and regular vanilla-flavoured Malcolm facing away from him – currently occupied with tackling Jon head on – the Restarter made a break for the communal staircase, taking advantage of the chaos.
