by G Sauvé
“A few years ago this kid at my school started picking on me. He made fun of me and called me names. His favourite was ‘Won’t,’ because he claimed Will was too good of a name for a loser like me.”
Jonn marches on. He says nothing, but I can tell he’s listening.
“At first I got upset, then one day I found out his parents beat him, and I realized he was only picking on me because his family was doing the same to him. I felt sorry for him, so I stopped getting upset when he insulted me. Before long, he stopped picking on me.”
There’s a moment of silence before Jonn comes to a stop. He turns to me and asks, “Why the drowned would you tell me that?”
I’m no longer surprised to hear the Atlantean curse escape my companion’s lips. He’s uttered it so many times I’ve lost count. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s his favourite word.
“Well,” I say, “I thought if I told you a story from my past, you would share one from yours. Perhaps one about a pendant.”
Jonn scoffs.
“Nice try, kid, but you’ll have to do a lot better than some sob story to get me to open up. Oh, and by the way, from now on I’m calling you ‘Won’t.’”
He heads off once more, slashing away at the vines that stand in our path.
“Come on, Won’t,” he calls back when I fail to follow.
So much for my plan. Not only did I fail to extract the information I wanted, but now I’ve given Jonn exactly what he needs to make my life even more miserable.
“Why is Avalon doing all of this?” I ask after a moment of silent trekking.
Jonn ignores me, and I consider giving up, but I’ve done that far too often already.
“Why did she send us here?” I insist. “Why does she jump from one time to the next? Why are you and Kara pursuing her? When did—”
Jonn finally decides to answer my questions, no doubt realizing it’s the only way to shut me up.
“Avalon did something bad,” he says, “and she’s trying to fix her mistake by altering the past.”
“What did she do?”
Jonn ignores the question, so I move on to the next.
“Why does it matter if the past is altered?”
Jonn sighs. He comes to a stop and looks me straight in the eye.
“If I answer this question, do you promise to shut up?”
I nod.
“All right,” he says. “There are two basic theories when it comes to time travel. Theory one: Everything that happened in the past already happened and thus can’t be changed. Theory two: If you return to the past and change something, it will affect the course of history, thus altering the future. The first one is crap. The second isn’t. Avalon is jumping from one time to the other so she can alter the past to fix her mistake.”
I’m surprised by how clear and concise that was. I always thought of Jonn as a tough, but simple-minded individual. Clearly, that’s not the case.
“How does she know which events to change?” I ask.
“I thought we agreed you would shut up?”
“Technically, it’s a follow-up question, so it doesn’t count.”
Jonn doesn’t seem pleased, but answers nonetheless.
“I don’t know. All I know is she sent us to this time for one of two reasons. Either she wanted to get rid of us, or she believes changing something in this time will somehow keep her from burning—” He abruptly stops when he realizes he almost revealed the reason why Avalon is so obsessed with altering the past. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to tell me, but now isn’t the time to pry, so I distract him with another question.
“Aren’t we changing the past just by being here?” I consider pointing out this is another follow-up question, but Jonn doesn’t seem inclined to deflect the inquiry.
“Only major events can alter the course of history,” he explains. “Everything else is insignificant. Our presence among the korrigan population won’t change anything because they’ll probably all end up dead anyway.”
That’s heartless. Even for Jonn.
“Why do you think we haven’t been trying to find a cure for the fire plague?” he asks. “Saving the korrigans could cause a ripple effect that would irreversibly alter the future.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but now that I have, I feel even guiltier for tricking the korrigans into thinking I’m their saviour. They’re all going to die, and it’s only a matter of time before they realize it. And when that happens, there’s no telling what they will do to Jonn, Kara, and me. I suddenly understand why Jonn is in such a hurry to find Avalon.
“Why did Avalon travel to the future?” I ask, hoping another question will make me forget about my recent discovery. “It’s not like she could change anything.”
“Kara and I were close on her tail for a while. She must have thought going to the future would somehow sever the connection that linked our bracelets to her ring. She was wrong, and we got closer to capturing her than ever before. We would have succeeded if not for you.”
The intensity of his glare tells me now is probably a good time to stop asking questions, so I give him a quick smile and a nod. It seems to do the trick because he turns his back to me and once again begins slashing at the vegetation.
We walk in silence for what feels like hours before I decide enough time has passed for me to ask another question.
“What kind of guns were you guys using back at the subway station?”
Either Jonn is too exhausted to ignore me, or he’s bored because he answers my questions without so much as a single insult.
“They’re Atlantean guns,” he explains. “Military-grade air rifles.”
“Air rifles?” I ask. It seems impossible that simple air-propelled projectiles could do the type of damage I witnessed at the subway station.
“They shoot tiny spheres of highly-compressed air,” says Jonn.
That explains why I didn’t see any bullet.
“Is that why they make so much noise?”
Jonn nods.
“The pressure can be adjusted,” he says. “When set on low, they merely incapacitate, but when set on high, they can eat through a wall.”
It takes a moment, but I realize the grey-haired soldier hasn’t insulted me once since we started talking about guns. I guess I finally found something he cares about.
“Isn’t it dangerous to bring such an advanced weapon to another time?” I ask. “What if you lose it? Wouldn’t its mere discovery be enough to alter the past?”
Jonn nods. “It’s risky, but not as much as letting Avalon roam around changing the past as she sees fit.”
I’m tempted to ask what it is she’s so desperate to change, but I know it will only make Jonn angry. I’m about to voice an entirely different question when I understand why Jonn is being so cooperative.
He didn’t invite me on this trip because he enjoys my company or because he thought I could be of any use to him. He did it because he’s lonely. For the past two weeks, he’s been venturing off into the jungle in search of Avalon, only to come back empty-handed day after day. I’m surprised he made it this long without going completely insane.
For a brief moment I wonder why he didn’t invite Kara, but then I realize she wouldn’t have come. Why wander the jungle aimlessly when she could help ease the sick korrigans’ suffering? Not to mention the fact that Jonn and Kara seem to have a rather peculiar relationship. Kara may be Jonn’s daughter, yet she holds just as much power over him as he does over her. I wonder if their relationship was always like this or if Kara’s life was put on hold when her father decided to pursue Avalon—somehow I can tell Jonn is the one who’s obsessed with taking down Avalon; Kara is merely there to watch over him and keep him from doing something reckless.
We walk for what feels like hours before Jonn finally announces it’s time for us to take a break. I try to sit, but my legs are so weak I crumble as soon as I come to a stop. Jonn retrieves a few tasty treats from his cargo pants and hands some to me. I wolf
them down in mere seconds. It’s not until I’ve swallowed the last mouthful that I finally start feeling better.
Jonn is only halfway through his meal, which provides me with the perfect opportunity to voice one of my many unanswered questions.
“What did Avalon do that was so bad she felt like she had to alter the past to fix it?”
“Shut up, Won’t,” snarls Jonn. He takes another mouthful, then adds, “No wonder your parents abandoned you. You’re so annoying.”
Normally, I would let the insult roll off me, but the combination of exhaustion, heat, and the feeling of total and utter helplessness that has inhabited me for the past few weeks push me past my breaking point.
“That’s it.” I stand up and glare at Jonn. “Why the hell do you hate me so much?”
Jonn scoffs.
“Do you have to ask?”
He doesn’t have to say it for me to know what he’s referring to.
“Look,” I say, doing my best to stay calm. “I know I messed up. I helped Avalon, and because of me, she got away. And now we’re stuck here. I screwed up. Big time. Are you happy now? Do you think you can let off for just two damn seconds?”
Jonn seems even more amused than before.
“That’s not why I dislike you,” he says.
“It’s not?”
He shakes his head. “In the beginning, I resented you for helping Avalon get away, but that all changed when I got to know you.”
For a brief moment, I think he’s about to compliment me. He doesn’t.
“You’re a coward,” he says. “And you’re selfish.”
Somehow that hits me harder than all of the previous insults combined. Perhaps that’s because it’s true. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a coward. Whenever I’m faced with a situation where a choice must be made, I take the easy way out. The few times I did act bravely, my heroism was fueled by self-interest, which means Jonn’s second point is also valid. All I’ve ever cared about is being reunited with my parents—even now, that’s all I crave. While some would call it wishful thinking, I can only think of one word to describe it.
Selfishness.
My shoulders slump in defeat, and I sit back down. I can feel Jonn’s gaze on me, but I ignore it. Tears burn my eyes, but I fight them away, refusing to humiliate myself further.
It takes a while, but I finally overcome my hunger for self-deprecation. Jonn’s right; I’m a selfish coward. But if this insane adventure has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is impossible. If time travel is possible, then who’s to say I can’t change?
I look up at Jonn with a renewed sense of self-worth, but the smile falls from my lips when I notice his stunned expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Jonn doesn’t answer. He just sits there, staring at something behind me. I hesitate for a brief moment, then slowly turn around. I expect to find a deadly dinosaur standing before me, ready to strike. Instead, I find a man. He looks familiar, but it’s not until I notice his scowl that I recognize him.
It’s Angry Dude.
Memory 33
A ngry Dude looks like hell. His nose is broken, and dried blood coats his upper lip. The exposed parts of his arms and legs are covered in bloodied scratches. He has a black eye, and his hair is a mess. He also appears to be out of breath, but what hits me the hardest is the fact that he’s no longer scowling.
“Get behind me,” orders Jonn as he yanks his knife from its sheath and takes a defensive stance. I don’t understand the need for such hostility until I notice the knife Angry Dude clutches in his bloodied fist. Moments later, I’m standing behind Jonn.
The grey-haired soldier circles his opponent, weapon at the ready. I’m not sure who Angry Dude is, but it’s obvious he and Jonn don’t get along. Or so I think until he does the most unexpected thing.
He drops his knife and raises his hands in surrender.
Jonn hesitates.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” says Angry Dude.
“What do you want?” demands Jonn.
“I’m here to help you.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“It’s me,” says Angry Dude. “It’s really me.”
I’m not sure what that means, but Jonn seems to relax. He lowers his knife, but I can tell from his posture he’s ready to attack at the slightest sign of treachery.
“Talk,” he growls.
Angry Dude’s lips curl into a broad smile, and he lowers his hands.
“Same old Jonn,” he says. “Always suspicious.”
I now have proof they have a history.
“Talk,” repeats Jonn.
Angry Dude’s smile evaporates.
“I never meant to betray you. Avalon used a mind jacker. She forced me to deceive you, to trick you into falling into that trap. I never meant… I tried… I…” Tears start running down Angry Dude’s cheeks. It’s the first time I see a grown man cry. I only met him twice, yet I can’t help feeling sorry for him.
Jonn doesn’t seem to share my compassion. He still clutches his knife, ready to make a move. But then his lips curl into a faint smile, and I realize he believes Angry Dude.
“Is Avalon here?” he asks.
Angry Dude nods.
Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. For the first time in two weeks, I’m hopeful I’ll get to go home. But the respite is only temporary.
“She’s the one who created the plague,” says Angry Dude.
Despair slams into me with the force of an eighteen-wheeler hitting a brick wall. Even if we locate Avalon and get our hands on her ring, Jonn and Kara will no doubt insist we find a way to eradicate the fire plague and set history back on course before we leave this time.
“How did you escape?” asks Jonn.
“We were attacked by a herd of dinos,” explains Angry Dude, nodding to his bloodied arms. “The mind jacker must have been damaged during the fight because I regained control halfway through the battle. I managed to slip away unnoticed.”
“Why didn’t you try to take her down?” asks Jonn.
“I considered it, but I was outnumbered. I knew the best course of action was to lose them and come find you.”
“How did you find us?” asks Jonn, growing suspicious once more.
“I didn’t,” admits Angry Dude. “After I escaped, I ran until I was certain I wasn’t being followed. I was just about to take a rest and get my bearings when I heard shouting. I followed the sound and found you and this kid”—he nods in my direction—“sitting here.”
There’s a moment of silence before Jonn finally speaks.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s pretend I believe you. What can you tell me about Avalon’s plans? How do we stop the plague? Where is she hiding?”
Angry Dude opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He stares blankly ahead for a second before his expression starts to change. His lips curl into a snarl. His brow furrows. His eyes focus on me. He’s reverting to his old self. But then his scowl vanishes, and he’s back to his new, smiling self.
“What’s happening?” I ask, freaked out.
“The mind jacker is coming back online,” says Jonn, stepping forward. He grabs Angry Dude’s shoulders and stares deep into his eyes. “Fight it,” he commands. “Don’t let it take control.”
“I’m… trying,” says Angry Dude, his face jumping from one emotion to the next. “I can’t… fight… it.”
“Don’t give up,” encourages Jonn, shaking him, but no amount of motivation will save him. It’s only a matter of time before Angry Dude completely loses control.
“Avalon…” he manages to mutter. “Arkania… king… Avalon.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I can tell it will be important, so I repeat those three words over and over until they’re seared into my memory. By then, Angry Dude has completely lost control.
“Fight i—” begins Jonn, but his opponent clocks him in the jaw before he can finish.
The blow should have knoc
ked him out, but Jonn is tough. He staggers back a step, shakes away the pain, and lunges forward.
His knife slashes through the air.
Angry Dude ducks just in time to avoid getting cut, but trips and topples over. At least that’s what he wants us to think. When Jonn approaches, he lashes out using the knife he used his staged stumble to retrieve.
Jonn jumps back just in time. The blade whistles past with less than a centimetre to spare. Angry Dude gets back to his feet, and the two men circle each other, knives at the ready. They lunge and feign, but both are evenly skilled. Or so I think until Angry Dude leaps forth with an animalistic roar. I fear Jonn is about to go down, but he dodges the attack and takes advantage of his opponent’s temporary lack of balance to disarm him with a well-placed kick.
Angry Dude’s knife goes flying through the air and vanishes into the jungle.
Jonn’s opponent retreats, stumbling over roots and fallen branches. I think he’s done for until he wraps his fingers around a baseball bat-sized log and uses it to parry Jonn’s attack. Moments later, he’s back on his feet, swinging wildly.
Jonn takes a few steps back, putting some distance between him and his opponent. Now that Angry Dude is armed, he no longer has the upper hand. I watch, powerless, as he’s skillfully forced toward a tree. It’s only a matter of time before he’s cornered.
“Watch out!” I yell, but it only distracts Jonn. Angry Dude takes advantage of this to attack. He swings the club and knocks the knife from the grey-haired soldier’s hand.
Now that Jonn is defenceless, Angry Dude takes his time. He raises the club, cocks it, and swings. I close my eyes, thinking Jonn is out for the count, but I hear only the whistling of the club. I open my eyes to find Jonn rolling away from his opponent. He snatches his dropped knife mid-roll and comes up fast, blade in hand.
Jonn and Angry Dude circle each other. I fear they are at an impasse until Jonn does something unexpected and opts for strategy over brute force. He feigns left, then goes right. The knife slices through Angry Dude’s exposed flank, sending a spurt of blood flying through the air. I can’t tell how deep the cut is, but it can’t be that bad since Angry Dude strikes back at Jonn with a well-placed elbow to the face.
