Ham Taylor: Lost In Time!

by J.P Jackson

It was late and the night sky twinkled with stars. The calm wind whispered as Taylor, drink in hand, pulled off his neck tie and stepped onto the balcony overlooking Los Angeles. He leaned over the railing of the glamourous Gladio Hotel. Setting his drink on the ledge, he rolled up his sleeve and inspected his cold dead torch.

  "I know what you're thinking," said an abrupt voice in the dark. Taylor turned, smiling as Yellow Jack joined him on the balcony. Jack was also dressed in a dinner suit, his golden feathers bulging out of collar and cuffs.

  "What am I thinking Jack?"

  "You are thinking of that cumbersome time machine deep in Fort Knox. It...and she...are calling to you."

  Taylor took a sip of his drink. "How have you been?"

  "I tried a sip of champagne this evening. Its bubbly perfume seemed to agree with me."

  Jack leaned against the railing and took in the view. There were no apocalyptic fires below them, just the pleasant lights of a civilised society.

  "I watched your presentation at the UN last week," Taylor said, nudging Jack's elbow. "You were very good, you eased a lot of minds. Fuck, I see your ugly mug on T-shirts already. Movie out next year. Amazing how fast people get over it."

  "Yes," Jack mused. "The human race are a remarkably durable species."

  After a moment of silence, Jack faced Taylor with a low brow.

  "Ham Taylor," he exhaled. "I may have commitments over the coming weeks and months, but do not dare attempt to meddle with time in my absence. If you are set on finding Penelope, then let us do it together."

  Taylor finished his drink and smiled. "Together."

  Suddenly, Taylor's attention was drawn to a golden light spreading over his shoes.

  "Jack,” he said, concerned as he stepped back from the balcony. “You see this?”

  "See what?” Jack returned, oblivious.

  The light streamed up his legs, filled Taylor's torso and shone down the ends of his fingertips. “You don't see this?”

  Jack turned to Taylor but found nothing to examine. “Tell me what's wrong, Ham Taylor? What's going on?”

  "The Timekeepers!” Taylor screamed, grabbing at Jack's arms. “You were right! They have me!”

  A podium appeared at Taylor's feet and light streamed out of his flesh. With moments left, Taylor clung to Jack and begged:

  "Find me, Jack! Find me!”

  Taylor was pressed flat against the rising podium, in a race to edge of the universe.