by Richard Lee
My first murder. Wow, what do I remember of that? Not much. I kind of zoned out, if you get my drift. It was truly weird. One second I was walking towards him and the next there was a dagger in my hand. The rest is kind of blacked out. The ones following, I remember so clearly.
You know, some people say if you do bad shit you’ll get nightmares. Those idiots don’t know what they’re talking about. Hell, they’ve probably never done a bad thing in their life ’cause I haven’t ever had a bad dream.
The professor shut down the computer. It was getting late and he wanted to be home early. He had a video to watch now since he knew the splitter worked fine.
He was pleased to read the journal entry. It proved his suspicions correct. His personal quest was at last showing signs that he was on the right track.
A red light on his bracelet flashed. It caught his attention. He had email. Wearing a bracelet was tiresome. It was designed for the holographic net visor he used and the holographic keyboard was preferred as well. He liked to type his emails and messages, it gave him the chance to rethink his words and reorder them if need be.
“I’m old,” he whispered to the empty room.
Slowly the professor folded down the laptop screen. Removed the key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the desk drawer. He moved the digital camera to his desk and put the laptop inside. He relocked the drawer and tested it. It held fine.
Accessing his computer, he discovered it wasn’t an email waiting for him. It was a Direct Message from his brother. He pressed the red button and the screen and keyboard appeared.
A small smiley face with horns blinked on and off every few seconds, with the words, “Talk to Rocknroller.”
Rocknroller was his brother’s call sign.
The professor chose Searcher as his call sign. He wanted Quest-Finder or something relevant to his personal mission, but all names with quest in it were gone. So he settled for Searcher, and in the months which had passed, he found he quite liked the call sign after all.
He opened the Direct Message.
Rocknroller: Hey D, how’s the splitter?
Searcher: Kyle, it works fine so far.
Rocknroller: Knew it would.
Searcher: What’s up? Why the Direct Message?
Rocknroller: No reason.
Searcher: You can’t bullshit me. I know you too well.
Rocknroller: That’s right. I was wondering about, you know, what’s her name?
Searcher: Penny?
Rocknroller: Yeah. My clients over here did a search to find her. What’s she doing in AreaFair?
Searcher: The real question is, why are they looking for her?
Rocknroller: Not sure. They weren’t too clear on that point.
Searcher: I paid a four-year contract. Only a year and a half has passed.
The screen remained blank for a bit, then:
Rocknroller: Why is she there?
Searcher: There was a lot of trouble involving the German/Arabian front attack. She and some of my other students were cornered near the dome’s power source. I lost two students. Eric and Penny were both very traumatized.
Rocknroller: This Eric, he’s also at AreaFair?
Searcher: No, Eric’s mind is stronger. Yet, the poor boy has become a loner of sorts lately. Barely speaks to anyone and the last I saw of him, he had lost a lot of weight.
The professor didn’t consider himself lying but only bending the truth, and leaving out the science fiction elements of Rachael’s story. He was very close to his brother and he knew Kyle wouldn’t believe the time travel story. Besides, he had a feeling Kyle wasn’t giving the entire truth either as to why his clients wanted Penny back. He knew better than to ask directly. He would wait for Kyle to come clean.
Rocknroller: I guess so. Any idea how long she might be there?
Searcher: No way to tell. The doctors told me she was locked in a dream state. They gave it some fancy term I don’t remember. They said she had to wake herself up or something like that.
Again the screen remained blank. The professor waited a few minutes before typing.
Searcher: You still there?
Rocknroller: Yep.
Searcher: Why the silence?
Rocknroller: Just thinking.
Searcher: You all right?
Rocknroller: It’s nothing. Look, I gotta go. Can you Direct Message me about her progress?
Searcher: Sure I can. Are you sure everything’s fine?
Rocknroller: Thanks for the concern, Bro, but I have everything under control.
Searcher: If you’re sure. I can teleport over if you need help with something.
Rocknroller: You tell me who can teleport with the war in its first swing?
The professor smiled at his brother’s comment. His brother often came up with some weird expressions.
Searcher: I’ll let you get back to whatever it is that you do, Kyle.
Rocknroller: *smiles* Talk to you again soon.
Searcher: Night.
The screen went blank and this time a small frame closed. The professor instantly checked for intrusions on his computer. Sometimes the faculty would run scans on all university operated computers. Their program was the latest version and constantly updated, which meant old style computers were less likely to get an intrusion. Still, he checked just to feel easier. He relaxed in his chair, watching the computer run a check. It took twenty minutes to do its thing. No intrusion.
He checked his watch. It was almost four o’clock. Time had sped right past him and he realized he was itching to watch the video. After waiting for the program to shut down safely, he switched off the computer, removed the splitter from the power outlet on the side of his desk and dropped it into his coat pocket. He was excited to be leaving. The video was bound to be interesting.
Chapter Twenty
Rachael thanked Eric for the ride to and from AreaFair. He had remained silent all the way and hadn’t entered the hospital with her and Ami. In fact, no one had said much during the entire three-hour drive. Rachael wanted some private time with everyone. She had wanted to talk things through, to air everyone’s thoughts and feelings, but when she felt ready to start the airing, she found she couldn’t. There didn’t seem a way to start the conversation and so she had remained as silent as the other two.
You’re not much of a leader, she thought as she waved good-bye to Ami, who was walking to the local teleporter. Eric had driven off without a word, opting to drive instead of fly.
She walked along the path to her front door.
Today had gone bad. Poor Penny. She sat in a large chair, staring at the wall. Rachael doubted if she even knew they were there. They were given a thirty-minute visitation pass and Rachael and Ami had told Penny about everything that was happening in the world. They had left out things like the starting of World-War-Four, Josh’s death, and Eric’s silence. They tried to keep everything positive. Ami even told a couple of jokes. It had no effect. Their friend was deaf to the world, but they would continue to visit her as often as possible.
For the next visit, Rachael had already decided not to bring Eric and later she would call Ami for a heart to heart, but right now, she was dying for a cup of coffee.
At the front door, she turned for a final wave to Ami, but the teleporter was empty. She had all ready gone.
Rachael pressed her thumb to the lock and the door opened.
Light streamed through the kitchen windows, the bright light extremely harsh in the dark room. She could see the dust floating in the brightness.
“Shutters down,” she called, not wanting to see the things she breathed into her body. “Lights on.” Overhead fluorescents flickered on as the window shutters slid down from the windowpanes.
At the coffee marker, she said, “Colombian Roast.” Instantly it was ready. Pre-made to her preferences. She took the cup to the kitchen table and sat down in front of it.
At that instant, she realized something was wrong.
The house
was too quiet.
And the kitchen shutters were always closed.
Slowly her eyes moved to look at the stairs leading to the second floor. The feeling that someone was up there was intense.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her eyes moved to the stairs. Her heart was sledge hammering her chest. Her mouth filled with spit, but it was hard to swallow. She reached the stairs and looked up. Listening intently, she tried to hear any sound, but her own heartbeat was louder than anything else. It was all she could hear.
As softly as she could, she ascended the stairs one at a time.
Thump.
Christ, what was that?
The sound froze her on the fifth step.
Rachael forced herself to move. She had to see who or what was up there.
Reaching the top, she boldly moved onto the second floor. To her left was the bedroom and on her right was the toilet.
A scraping sound grabbed her attention. It came from the bedroom. Now’s a good time to call the police, she thought. Swallowing hard, she moved slowly to the bedroom door. It was open. She saw the back of a man. Her dresser was open and he was throwing her clothes about her room. Her bed was overturned and the sheets and blankets were on the floor in a pile. The dagger she had found at Peter’s place was on the top of the drawer.
She watched the man tear off his shirt and throw it against the wall screen. He pushed the drawer to the floor and mumbled something.
He looked and sounded familiar, but the tattoo identified him.
“Dean, you bastard, what are you doing?”
Rachael’s fear had turned to anger when she saw the full back tattoo of a Phoenix surrounded by fire with angels firing arrows at it.
Dean turned around. His face was twisted in a grimace. Anger flared in his eyes like the fires from hell.
He strode towards her. Seven large steps brought them almost face to face. Muscles and tattoos rippled like a fast moving stream and his voice was as deep as a bass guitar.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he boomed.
Rachael answered by taking a step back. She could smell alcohol on his breath. It wafted off him like upturned riverbed.
“Do you think I weren’t gonna hear the lies you told about me?”
Rachael took another step back. She hadn’t said anything to anyone about him. Well, she had talked in full to Ami about him, but Ami knew how to keep secrets. There was no point arguing with Dean, especially in his state.
Suddenly Dean’s expression changed. His eyes took on a hooded look and he smiled a full, open mouthed grin. “Do you think you can dump me? Are you that stupid?”
“Dean...” she started.
Like lightening, he moved forward, grabbed her by the blouse and threw her into the room. Rachael lost her footing, stumbled and crashed into the wall screen. She fell into a sitting position with her legs sprawled apart.
“You stupid bitch,” he hissed, moving forward. “Did you truly think I was out of your life?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You and I are meant to be together. We’re a team, isn’t that what you said?”
“That was a long time ago, Dean,” she stammered. “Things have changed.” Rachael tried to get to her feet.
“Nothing has changed,” he said, moving closer to her.
Reaching her before she managed to get up, Dean grabbed her and lifted her to her feet. He drove his fist into her stomach, knocking the wind from her. Keeping a tight grip on her, he held her upright. Her visor dropped to the floor. Dean stood on it.
Rachael felt herself being lifted then carried. Her eyes were partially open and all the anger had been knocked from her. She heard Dean laugh as he tossed her on to the bed.
“Maybe you need to be reminded of why we were so great together?”
She was lying on her back staring at the bedroom door and sadly she realized her resignation. She couldn’t fight this man. If only she could go back in time and stop herself from meeting him three years earlier.
Rachael blocked out what was about to happen. She felt her blouse being torn open, her bra yanked down, and her jeans unbuttoned. Dean tugged them down her legs. She gave no resistance. If she fought him, it would only hurt more.
It was strange how they met. She was in a “get-fit” stage in her life and had taken to walking or (if she remembered her trainers) jogging home from the university. She had been doing it for about three months when a young group of motorcycle boys circled her. There were five of them. Their jackets had an X made from two lightning bolts crossing each other. She couldn’t read the gang name. The writing was Arabic.
Dean was yanking at her underwear. Pulling the cotton until it ripped. She heard his fly being unzipped. He laid down on her. His penis grew hard against her as he licked her neck and massaged her breasts.
The motorcycle gang started cat calling her as they circled. She could barely hear the words over the bikes’ engines, but she knew what they were saying. She looked around for some assistance, but all the houses had their shutters down and shutters sound proofed the houses.
She tried to move forward, but the gang cut her off. One of them kicked a leg at her, but it missed. Riding in a circle, they continued to rev their bikes. She tried again to break out, but this time the kick connected with her face and she went down.
The bikes stopped moving.
One of the members got off his bike and grabbed her by the chin.
“What a lovely piece of infidel meat,” he said. “Pity about the blood.”
Dean was breathing harder now. His erect penis pushed against her pubic hair. She knew Dean’s routine for sex, whether offered or taken, was always the same. Shortly his hand would move between her legs and he would masturbate her to get her wet.
All the gang members got off their bike at that point.
“Where do you think you’re going, young thing?”
Another one said, “You shouldn’t walk the streets at night.”
“She was running,” another said.
“Hey, Saeed, that means she must be hot.”
All five laughed.
“I think you’re right, Muhammad.”
“I wonder how nice the rest of the package looks.”
“Why don’t you take a look, Saleh?”
“Indeed I will, oh great leader.”
Saleh reached down and grabbed Rachael’s cut off sweatshirt. She punched him as hard as she could and kicked out wildly. Saleh and Muhammad jumped back and she managed to roll onto her hands and knees. About to make another run for it, someone kicked her in the small of the back and drove her into the pavement.
That was when she heard the voice of her savior.
“You little turds hassling a nice lady?” The voice was deep and calm.
She instantly liked this savior, not because he was interrupting the gang’s fun, but because he spoke old twenty-first century English.
“What?” It was Saeed’s voice.
She heard a scuffle and rolled onto her back. Three of the gang threw punches and kicks like a kung-fu movie. The other two were on the ground clutching their stomachs. Her savior absorbed all and drove his fist and knee into his attackers. They dropped quickly. A couple of them managed to get to their bikes and ride away.
Slowly he approached her. Blood ran from his nose and his lip was cut. Gently he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you hurt bad?”
That seemed like a lifetime ago.
It took a few months before he started to show his true colors. A realization dawned on her. So that’s why his mother told me to leave. Not that I wasn’t good enough for him, it was that he wasn’t good enough for me.
There it was. His hand moved from her breast, gently gliding along her ribs and side until it stopped at the curve of her buttocks. Two soft squeezes, then it was between her legs.
Rachael tensed up. She tried to move away at this point, but it was fruitless. Dean more than doubled her weight and she couldn’t move.
Think about
something else, she told herself. Think of...
That’s when she saw it. A small black circle in the wall, growing bigger, expanding until it filled most of the space. From the centre of the black hole a white light pulsed. With each pulse it grew until the black circle was just a black outline.
“Oh, my God, Dean.” Rachael tried to squirm from under him. She pushed her body hard against his.
“Oh yes, I knew you liked this.” His breathing was heavier. As his finger slipped in, he kissed her neck hard.
A black shape was walking through the light.
Strangely, she felt no fear.
As it got closer the form started to take shape. Slowly features became visible. She had seen pictures of this person many times.
Peter Clement stopped at the edge of the circle. He seemed to be looking about.
Rachael watched him and when he finally looked at her, their eyes locked.
Something happened to her at that moment.
They held each other’s gaze and she managed to push Dean off. He fell to the side, his hand still busy at work.
Peter stepped out of the light and the circle vanished.
“All right, baby,” Dean said, stroking his fully erect penis, “no more playing about.”
Rachael barely heard his words. Her full concentration was with Peter.
Dean pushed her legs apart easily. He pushed the bottom of her right leg until the knee bent up, giving him easier entry.
Peter smiled.
Rachael watched him.
Peter grabbed Dean by the hair and yanked him off the bed. Dean yelled in surprise as punches and kicks flew at him, like an action movie. Dean dropped to the floor. Quickly she moved to the end of the bed.
Dean’s penis wasn’t erect anymore. A lot of blood escaped his mouth and nose. His jaw looked crooked and he was panting hard for breath.
Peter threw his right arm in the air.
Instinctively, she looked to where the dagger had fallen. She saw a pile of clothes move, as if thrown by an invisible person. Her dresser flipped to the side. And quickly, as if it appeared from thin air, the dagger shot across the room. The hilt slammed perfectly into Peter’s hand. He flicked his wrist down and the dagger spun twice against the side of his palm. He flicked it in the air and turned his palm the other way and deftly caught it. He pulled it to his right shoulder and swung the dagger downwards in an arc.
