by Sean McMahon
‘Kevin, Harold. He has Kevin.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ said Kara. ‘If he kills Kevin, we’ll have another Restarter to contend with!’
‘Or worse,’ noted Hal, ‘we could disappear entirely. We know we die either way, but having Kevin here could replace our 165th restart. How can past-us save him from the basement if he’s dead before we get there?’
Kara was about to lay down the support beams of what was surely going to be a good plan, but was interrupted by an unexpected guest.
As if attempting to pull off one of Hal’s mic-drop moments, none other than Jerry sauntered up to them like a canine superhero.
‘Oh, hey Jerry,’ said Kara. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while! You’ve missed a lot of drama!’
Jerry squeaked, then exhaled through his nose, clearly meaning business.
‘You don’t suppose Jerry has gone full on Lassie and happens to know which well Fearne is trapped down?’ said Hal, half-joking.
‘With us to the end, huh little guy?’ said Kara.
Jerry panted enthusiastically, looking up to her with adorably wide eyes.
‘Okay,’ she continued, realising time was too much of the essence to waste it deliberating over Malcolm’s sincerity. As much as she hated to admit it, they were going to need the killer’s help. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do…’
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
A Kiss through Time
203rd Restart – Saturday, August 25th, 2018, 4:12pm
At first glance, their goal seemed impossible, given that they needed to be in two places at the same time. Luckily, for Hal and Kara, that was something of a natural forte.
Or at the very least, an occupational hazard.
‘We need to split up,’ Kara had said. ‘Hal, we need to focus on Fearne. Malcolm, who better than to talk your living-self out of murder than you. Assuming you want to help us?’
‘Of course I do!’ Malcolm had said, before muttering diatribes about how this ‘wasn’t supposed to be happening yet’ “blah blah blah,” thought Hal, replaying the scene in his mind.
They both had a part to play. But before Hal moved on to carry out his role in their plan, there was something he needed to do…
Taking advantage of their time away from the hustle and bustle of jumping through time, Hal stole a moment. He knew the hunt for Fearne would take everything they had, and how important that was, but this needed to be said.
In fact, there was so much Hal needed to say to his fellow Restarter.
Even now, he knew there was still so much that would forever remain unsaid. He felt both sadness and comfort in the fact that when all this was done, his words would be forgotten and discarded into the void of nothingness.
Such was the curse of time overwritten.
Hal looked lovingly into the eyes of his Restarting colleague, wetting his lips so that the words would flow true.
‘We’ve been through so much together,’ he said, releasing a sigh which was laced with equal parts regret and melancholy. ‘But for this to work, I have to leave now and…’ his fellow Restarter stared back at him, eyes wide as if asking him why.
How could he leave her? Why now?
Surely they could make time?
Eyes that were asking how he could leave her here, all alone? But the words failed to come, refusing to be given life, as if it would make everything that bit more real.
Hal chose to fill the silence, and continued onwards.
This was difficult enough without more guilt being piled onto him.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. Maybe I’ll see you again, maybe I won’t, but I want you to know that there’s no one I’d rather have been on this journey with…’
His partner in time stared back.
‘I’m going to kiss you now…’ said Hal.
And with that, he leaned in tenderly, kissing the Restarter on her lips.
Or rather, beak, and placed the rubber-duck-sized flamingo that he’d retrieved from his backpack onto the wooden gate post so it could be seen from a distance.
This was the place. He knew that for a fact.
It wasn’t some existential sixth-sense, or knowledge which had downloaded itself through his soul and into his cerebral cortex.
Nor was it because Jerry’s alive-self had led him here.
It was more the fact Hal had literally just seen Malcolm’s Dark Restarter-self sprinting across the grass and into the lodge before him through an open back door.
‘That’s not possible,’ he muttered, looking up at the building before him.
Of all the places The Dark Restarter could have chosen out of the countless other options available to him, Hal had no idea what had led him to this one.
He experienced a wave of nausea at the realisation that maybe there was no such thing as chance. That maybe everything was predetermined after all. That perhaps there was no free will…
Hal shook away the unhelpfully distracting notion. But the sight of the familiar building still sent a shiver down his spine.
‘I dunno man…you think she’s in there, boy?’ Hal said to Jerry, hoping that if ever there was a time Jerry would reveal he had a voice it would be now.
Jerry, did his best, emitting a tiny growl, before shaking from nose to tail, his ears and jowls flapping wildly, before laying on the ground and laying a sulky head on his paws.
‘Yeah, it would be just our luck, wouldn’t it…’ Hal agreed pensively.
He couldn’t help but smile. He had often wondered what Jerry got up to when he wasn’t hanging out with him and Kara on their adventures. But the fact he was with Hal now, during an entire new restart cycle, made him wonder if Jerry was always with them, in some form or another.
Hal looked back towards the imposing structure.
Had the Dark Restarter known the significance of this lodge when he had chosen it as his new base of operations?
Hal remembered fondly the first time he had brought Kara here.
He had picked it at random to prove to her they weren’t living in a construct of their own minds. How the couple inside had argued about over-priced kale whilst their children had played outsi–
‘Dammit,’ he grumbled.
He’d forgotten about the kids.
That…complicated things.
Hal knew he was supposed to wait if he was successful in finding Fearne, but he was entirely wrapped up in the moment. Casing the place to see what they were up against was surely a wise move. Not to mention the fact that innocent children were almost definitely inside, at the very least being scarred for life emotionally by the invasion of a serial killer wind-milling into their lives.
Or what if it was worse than that? What if the kids were insurance?
Did Malcolm have a rule about not hurting children? He couldn’t remember it ever coming up. Hal grimaced at the vulgarity of how questions like that were his life now. That he would need to start categorically asking the company he kept if they would harm young children if temporal-push came to time-travelling shove.
He once again adopted the mantra of the prophet Taylor Swift, and shook it off.
‘Bloody kids,’ he groaned, the stakes having just been raised, noting how children always seemed to find a way to become a liability at the most inopportune of times.
If Future Malcolm was on the level, the only man who could hurt this family was currently preoccupied with Kevin. Which meant it was only a Restarter he needed to worry about. Albeit one of the dark biscuit variety.
Hal weighed up his options, glancing back at the flamingo, positioned like a beacon of reassurance, and put faith in the theory Kara would see his breadcrumb when they caught up with him.
‘Bye Felicia,’ he said in his best American accent, shooting her a wink before moving towards the lodge, onwards in his pursuit of Malcolm, being sure to stay close to the ground in the hope he could get the drop on him.
*
Kara had reluctantly agreed to split up, allowing
Hal to follow Jerry in the hope it would lead him to where Fearne was being held captive.
They had agreed it was best for her to stick with Malcolm in case he tried any funny business, or worse, didn’t bother to help Kevin at all.
‘After you,’ said Malcolm, gesturing to the staircase that led to Kevin’s basement.
Kara scowled.
‘What is this? My first restart? After you. I insist,’ she pressed, wondering if Malcolm had genuinely believed she would be that compliant. Or that stupid.
As she and Malcolm made their way down the steps, she made sure to keep her distance, gently pulling back the hammer on the gun Hal had given her under the cover of false pretence.
Malcolm looked over his shoulder as if she had hurt his feelings. A look that would have possibly carried more weight if he had the emotional range of anything beyond that of a cactus.
‘What?’ said Kara with a level of defensiveness that numerically equated to precisely zero.
Malcolm grinned, his aggrieved expression replaced with something much worse than his murder face; a look of respect.
Kara exorcised a cringe in the form of a full body shudder.
The plan was simple; Malcolm would latch on to his physical-self, preventing him from acting upon the instruction to kill Kevin, whilst Kara sought out a way to free the man from his restraints.
But, like all previous entries in their back-catalogue of “simple” plans, she quickly realised that this one in particular was about to go south even faster than usual.
‘Malcolm…’ said Kara, her voice a hushed whisper, her body shaking at the sight before her which told her everything she needed to know. How much danger she was now in. ‘What have you done?’ she had just enough time to add, as she felt two large arms wrap around her, attempting to drain her of every last ounce of retained charge they had managed to muster prior to her and Hal going their separate ways.
*
Hal snuck around the back of the lodge, feeling an intensely powerful twinge in his chest, reminiscent of the ones he used to get before he realised Malcolm had snuffed out his life with less regret than the network that had cancelled Firefly.
He pulled himself together, pressing firmly against his chest to alleviate the momentary agony, now pressed against the wall of the black lodge.
Not just any black lodge, either. The Third Lodge.
“It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?”
Something was wrong. He could feel it.
Hal instinctively reached for his phone, then realised he had given it to Kara in case they needed an anchor. Or a distraction…
He cursed, remembering that it wasn’t as if he could have called her anyway, making a mental note to add walkie-talkies to the list of things every Restarter needed to carry with them at all times.
“Or was that stupid?” he thought. Did radio-waves work the same way as they did outside of a time bubble? “If they were in-phase with each other,” he reasoned, “Surely?”
He heard a soft whimper from inside the lodge and refocused, noticing a thin veil of static fog was lining the floor.
“Great.”
The one thing he needed right now was a loss of cognitive coherence brought on by the surly sheriff of time that was Restart Fog.
No wonder he was day dreaming about bloody walkie-talkies.
The whimper evolved into an ear-splitting scream, sending a surge of ice to course through him as he realised exactly who it was coming from.
“Fearne.”
‘Pick up the pace, Kara,’ whispered Hal, sighing deeply and psyching himself up, knowing it was down to him to slow down whatever this shit was, before slipping in through the double patio doors.
*
‘Will you settle down,’ said Future Malcolm brashly, ‘Everything is fine! I have a plan!’
As the electricity surged from Kara’s body, before being hoovered up into Malcolm’s own, lighting up Kevin’s basement with pulsating flashes as they tussled, she fought against the light-headedness she was experiencing, wanting so badly to demand answers…but wrestling instead with the fact it was taking all she had just to stay conscious.
Malcolm released her and she fell to the floor.
‘Sonuva…’ muttered Kara, shaking off the nausea. ‘You have a plan? You have a plan?!’ she repeated, her eyes suddenly filling with a new lease of blue energy, as she dragged herself up off the ground.
‘How are you…’ Malcolm tried to ask, wondering how she had regained a charge so quickly.
‘That’s funny. No, actually I’d go as far as to say freakin’ hilarious! Because what it looks like you have is a chronic case of the bullshits!’ she snarled, whipping a hand in the direction of a lone empty chair in the centre of Kevin’s basement.
A chair that was notably devoid of a Kevin.
Malcolm went to speak, but fell silent as Kara raised a solitary finger like a lightsaber powered by a shut-the-hell-up crystal.
‘We came all this way,’ her words concise, oddly calm now, and notably brisk, ‘to save a man you told us was in danger. Splitting up at the worst possible time to stage a two-pronged intervention on two versions of you from the past and–’
‘I…’
‘I swear to God Malcolm, if you say one more word, I’m going to rip your heart from your chest,’ said Kara, surprising herself with how unhinged she sounded. How…Malcolmy her choice of words were... ‘And here I am, Kevin’s nowhere in sight, and then you try to, what?’ she struggled to find a way to describe his actions. ‘Bear-hug me to death?!’
‘It is not what you think.’
‘What I think? What I think, Malcolm, is that you’ve been playing us from the start. What I think, is that you just sentenced Hal to a showdown he can’t win, and you’re keeping me busy so we can’t take on the Dark Restarter together! That sound about right? My thoughts loud enough for you? Are you picking up what I’m putting down?’
‘We told Hal to wait for us,’ said Future Malcolm.
She scoffed, hissing loudly and looking up at the basement ceiling begging for a patience that refused to present itself.
‘This is Hal we’re talking about! He’s probably in there already, trying to bore past-you with abstract movie references long enough for us to get to him and save him. Which we can’t do when we’re miles away from…where even is he?!’ she said with a start.
Panic began to sink in, realising she didn’t even know how to reach him.
‘A third lodge.’
‘What third…’ and then it hit her like a truck. A truck full of baby– ‘No, no, no Malcolm!’ She knew of only one other lodge that held any significance to her. ‘There are kids there! What have you done?!’
Kara went to push past him, but Malcolm grabbed her forearm.
The Restarter’s eyes lit up, and Malcolm suddenly found himself feeling two distinct sensations;
Charge.
And pain, as the energy tried fervently to repel him away from her.
He looked down at his hand and saw the skin starting to crackle, burning under the intensity of the blue energy she was generating.
‘I suggest you take your damn hand off me before I send it into the next restart,’ she said coolly, barely managing to hide her sense of wonder at the pain Malcolm was clearly failing to hide between his clenched teeth.
‘Release me, woman,’ said Malcolm, his words making her realise that he wasn’t trying to maintain his grip on her anymore…he was trying to let go.
She closed her eyes for a split second, calming herself, and the Restarter energy died down to a gentle thrum.
Malcolm peeled his hand from her arm, leaving fragments of singed skin behind in his wake.
‘Ah balls, I really liked this jacket,’ she said, grimacing at the sickly handprint he had left behind.
‘You must listen to me Kara. I fully intend to save Hal, but you must listen.
‘Oh, for fff…ine. Talk,’ she relented, knowing deep down she didn’t ha
ve any other options, before warningly adding ‘Quickly.’
*
As Hal moved through the living room of the swanky lodge, dodging his way through a jungle of wallet-bustingly expensive furniture, he heard a second cry, this time calling his name.
He followed the sound and came across a door that was trying to be helpful by being ajar, but was ultimately letting the side down by not being open quite enough.
‘Ahh…door,’ he grumbled, as if addressing an arch-nemesis from his past with a tone which implied that perhaps it had been this very door all along that had been responsible for everything that was happening to him.
Realising he was a long way away from Fir Lodge – and therefore his past-self – and with Kara currently in the wind, he had nothing to draw a charge from. There was Fearne, of course, but she was currently messing with his would-be zen on account of being on the other side of the dastardly, hindrance-spewing door itself.
If he had her, he wouldn’t need to be having this conversation with himself.
He slumped against the wall and peered through the gap into the darkness beyond, seeing the hint of what appeared to be steps that led downwards.
‘Basement,’ he sighed, pulling off a pretty solid Harrison Ford Impression. ‘Why’d it have to be basements?’
A childlike sniffle made its way up from what lay below, met with the whispering reassurances of a woman’s voice trying to ease the girl’s shattered nerves, culminating with what Hal assumed to be a cheek being kissed.
“A kiss through time,” Hal thought poignantly.
A dispassionate rumble of a voice – whom Hal recognised instantly as belonging to a nemesis far more accomplished than Mr Door – uttered a smattering of chilling words, addressing his captives directly.
‘Quiet child. Listen to your mother.’
Hal’s eyes flared with anger, his body tapping into a source of power hitherto out of reach, as he pulled the door open savagely, the wood yielding under his exertion without so much as a hint of resistance.
He stood there in the doorway for a moment, staring down the classically foreboding, text-bookishly cliché staircase that The Dark Restarter had seemingly rented out following its overuse in…well, every horror movie in the history of ever.
