Remember Me

by Kyle Robertson

  “She smiled and kissed him.

  “You just did, Silly.”

  Borlund just kept on driving wondering about Raziel.

  “Are we going to send him tonight?” Bjorn asked.

  “If he’s well-rested, yes. You don’t want to go through all of this just to send him back in time fatigued. Dying tired would suck on too many levels,”

  “I saw that guy at the Snaggerz headquarters. His strength is inhuman,” Bjorn marveled.

  “He’s a royal guard from the 1200s. He’s about 25 when their life expectancy was around 30. That means he was eligible for retirement and still taking names. He’s amazing but still human.”

  “He was ready for the ancient AARP card back then and he’s still kickin’ ass?”

  “Relatively, yes. Remember when your grandpa boasted? Araklimn showed and proved. Don't think he’s just 25. Diseases like Scurvy can take your life much easier back then.”

  They kept driving north on 25 when they heard a proximity alarm in the cabin. Raziel radioed Borlund.

  “Are these sensors still calibrated for Gripz Renegades?”

  “Yes, but there aren’t any Gripz in Massachusetts, We have the Gripz equivalent, Scripters.”

  “With a cluster of that many, they must be under a Vezető,” Raziel relayed back. “We’re about to run from another road gang.” That was when a rocket rocked their APC!

  “I’m overriding Turtle Mode! Everybody, time to run the gauntlet!”

  They all got into a delta formation to wedge the opposition with Borlund and Keisha in the lead!

  “Where the hell did they come from?” Bjorn asked with intensity.

  “The same place all the lunatics come from. Nowhere!” Raziel yelled. “Just maintain your line and rive through! These HDs cam absent those rockets!”

  “I know! When you all got back, Borlung wouldn’t shut-up about it! It’s time to burn, hold on!”

  As the team met the band of Scripters in their nettle cars, they sped up for ramming speed.

  The Scripters unloaded on the aggressive stampede nut, the stallions were bulletproof!

  “Just hit sixty to spread those junkers then we’re home free!” Borlund yelled to the team.

  “I don’t know,” Bjorn told Raziel. “I’ve been in a car crash before.”

  “Hit sixty, Bjorn. This ain’t no car,” Raziel assured him.

  Bjor grimaced and floored it.

  As the opposing ammunition was absorbed like a dry sponge, he decimates the opposing car! The Scripter was terminally damaged in that crumpled metal coffin.

  The rest did the same as they plowed through them. The vezető became furious and they all gave chase!

  “We can’t do what we did the last time. They’re too close!” Borlund yelled into the transmitter at Raziel.

  “They have cars. We have heavily armored APCs. Smash time?”

  Borlund grinned.

  “Let’s do a little junkyard car compactor action.”

  Borlund did the all-call and everyone stopped and turned around to the rest of their attackers.

  The panic slowly donned on the Scripters as they realize they brought matches to a flame-thrower fight.

  As they began to back up, the HDs did a metaphorical roar by revving their engines. The scene became very ugly. The Scripters along with their vezető had no chance. The sound of crunching metal defined why this timeline needed to be erased.

  Borlund checked the integrity of the APCs in the aftermath of the mauling.

  “They’re a little messy, but they can travel,” he told Raziel.

  “These debaucherous actions won’t exist in an hour.”

  “Not even a memory, huh?” Borlund asked.

  “This will never have happened when we send Araklimn back. It’s a tangled temporal Gordion knot. We just have the skills to untie that impossible knot.”

  “I don't even know what that is… Sneek Queen?”

  “I really wish you had a Klannis. Without her, you’re looking at my picturesque metaphors through stained-glass.”

  “We just got one. We’re partners, right?”

  “In two hours, no. This last week was a good one I'd say.”

  “I would have never fathomed I’d have any relations with a BoltLayer. This has been a weird week. I even had to follow your theory. Keisha gave me a meal bracelet with her childhood address engraved on the back of it, According to you, this time branch won’t exist anymore and that bracelet won’t either. Before we buried your box, I put a note in it with an explanation, her address, and instructions on how to find me. I like her and I want to continue my temporal love story. ”

  “You better go ride with Keisha. This will be your last time to look at her if this doesn’t work.” Raziel said somberly. “She must like you if she’s following my actions. She always calls me Scientist Boy. If she knew os your tenacity, she’d call you that as well. No, this will work,”

  “This might sound funny to you, but I think Keisha’s doing a little ‘Bro Talk’. She’ll never admit she respects your intelligence.”

  Raziel really needed that. He has always thought Keisha thought he was too ‘geeky’ to listen to. Now he knew they both felt as If they knew each other.

  “It’s time to go home and fix this timeline,” Raziel said.

  “Let’s do this, brother.”

  They both got in their APCs to repair the planet.

  llll

  “Stop looking out the door for them. They’ll be here, You’re going to let in a nutra-rat.”

  Araklimn closede door.

  “What form of rodent?”

  “They’re rats the size of dogs. They came from the south to scavenge for food. The Drop changed a lot of things.”

  “I must rescue you from this Hades. This area is amazingly vile,” Araklimn said. “A rodent the size of a canine is unnatural.”

  “That wasn’t what the Drop did. Nutra-rats ‘are’ the size of dogs. They just normally don't dwell this far north. They even give a Xazen pack a challenge.”

  Araklimn was amazed.

  “Then I will rescue you by other means. When all is once what it was, do not travel south.”

  “Don’t let them scare you. They normally ingest, not attack. You’ll see when you get back.”

  That was when Araklimn became apprehensive about his quest.

  “If I cause a faux-pas in my journey, we may never cross paths again.”

  Chloe saw his dread. That was the 1 element they didn't need at this point.

  “I understand you were thrust into a darker time. This time has many things you don’t understand. I see that in you. The first thing you should do is to not try to understand it. Just gave the faith Raziel does.” Then she tries to analogize. “Have you ever been knocked out on your house far away from home?”

  “I have been in many battles where that has occurred.”

  “Did your horse bring you back home when you were out?”

  “Aye. Corath is a loyal steed.”

  “This time Raziel is your steed. You don't have to think to be brought back home.”

  Corath did know where the castle was by himself and Raziel knew where this era was, He should trust his ally.

  “I am ready to…”

  All of a sudden. The door slammed open! Raziel ran in with the rest of his team fighting something outside. Raziel rallies the others.

  “Everybody, defend the transporter! The Rayless One with a squadron of Gorgon guards are about to attack the warehouse! I just need two minutes to send him!” He ran upstairs to retrieve Araklimn’s guard helmet Fischer collected the first day. He ran back down to give it to Araklimn and turned on the platform, “I Have Cheshire England simulated to July twelve twenty-seven! Pick a safe landing site on the map!” Araklimn chose a farm.

  Just then, a rocket obliterated the front door!

  “SHIT! Do you have everything?!”

  “Aye.”

  “Then get on! It takes thirty seconds to
activate! Complete your quest! We’ll defend until you are gone! If you do this right, this timeline will be erased and you get to meet Klannis again!”

  “You are my Corath, Raziel. I will complete my quest and return.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?!”

  “Ask Chloe. She will elucidate my statement.”

  “Godspeed!” Raziel activated the platform and turned around to shoot arrows at invading Gorgon guards,

  The situation was dire because of the Gorgon armor. Then The Rayless One entered.

  Araklimn couldn’t step off the platform. Raziel and Chloe kept defending to no avail.

  The Rayless One shot flaming acid bolts at them both killing them instantly.

  “NO!”

  The Rayless One turned to the yell to see a distraught Araklimn. He smiles and shot a bolt at him! Simultaneously, the platform activated and Araklimn was sent back to 1227.

  Chapter Ten: The Beginning of a Much More Important Purpose

  The English countryside of Cheshire was rather muggy in July. It had to do with the normal threat of rain. The farmers welcomed the rain. It helped with their crops and also their animals. Hugh Gillian was one of those farmers with an important title. He was the main supplier of food for the king’s royal guards. King Fauntleroy had entrusted him to keep his guards fed well. It also could be his farm was the closest to Cumberbatch Castle.

  It didn’t matter to Hugh. The title gave him security. He wouldn't be lovered to a basic begging vagabond. He was even at the castle now supplying food.

  His cows were in the field grazing on grass. It was a typical July day.

  That was when his cows heard something never hears before. It was the cacophonous rip of the time-space continuum as Araklimn was delivered rather harshly to that field.

  The metaphorical rock-skip was a little more severe than Raziel had calculated, Araklimn was sent into the field with a 300-foot skid chucking divots around the cows!

  “He finally recovered from his temporal journey. When he opened his eyes, the cows were grazing around him. The cows were startled initially, but the odd happenings wouldn’t disturb their grazing.

  When he became conscious, all the former debaucherous calamities rained down on him. He was feeling as if it was about to drown him.

  If The Rayless One made it seep in their defenses, it must have meant the rest were destroyed, Fischer, Brakken, Borlund, Keisha, the lot of them.

  His last sight was Raziel and his love Chloe being killed. It was in his power to correct this evil.

  “I will complete my journey to save Princess Gwenlyn, Chloe. I shall return to you… My Love.”

  Shameless Request: If you enjoyed this tale, I would love it if you told somebody about it on the Amazon page HERE. I wrote this story for everyone. There may be someone you know who can relate to a certain topic in the story, or you think it’s just entertaining. Write a review, please. easy-peasy; with just a click, you can write it. It tells Amazon you liked what you read, and it might entertain others. You don’t have to be a Hemmingway. Just a few lines would be lovely. I read them all to make me a better writer, thanks.

  The Temporal Half-time

  “When you write a song, sometimes they just fall out of the air and land on your lap. This was not one of those.” Peter Gabriel— Growing Up tour.

  I had to go back into the engine of this story multiple times so the motor wouldn’t knock. I call those misfiring spark plugs ‘plot holes’.

  .

  When you write a story, it’s normal you begin with an outline. The outline gives you direction about what to write. An outline isn’t set in stone though.

  I have never taken a course on creative writing, so I never start with a first draft. I hear you, authors. Sacrilege!

  The reason I don’t do it is that I was never taught how.

  I write fiction to have a voice. Non-fiction feels too textbook sterile to me.

  Don’t get me wrong. I do an exorbitant amount of research you can learn something. I just curtail the information so it can be entertaining.

  For example. I had to craft the Victorian English, so it had the Old English aura, but it wasn’t authentic Shakesphere. King James Bible. Cantuberry Tales vernacular authentic. English has truly evolved since the 1200s. Cottony was just out.

  This tale has many different clues that pay off if you pay attention. Don’t look for them. This isn’t a mystery novel.

  I’ve done crime thrillers, actual mysteries, stories with twists, turns, and surprises, Sci-fi, fantasy, horror, all f that. This time I wanted to try cyberpunk. I just never follow the normal tropes. Those books can be forgettable. I have my own style.

  I actually got this from Stephen King. He has his own universe. That’s right. Randal Flagg and Pennywise know each other.

  I do it by referencing my other books in the one I’m writing now. All my books are in my universe. Check out my library to witness the links:

  https://bookconnect.review/authorPage.php?id=60

  As you can see, I’m a science fiction nut. I grew up with Luke, Leia, Han Chewie, Starbuck, Apollo, Boomer, Adama, Dekkard, and Rachel. Write what you know.

  I don’t want to be put in a box, however. Check out my serial killer paranormal detective thriller.

  This book is part one. I’ll go to part two when the story matures. When it’s good enough, I’ll send it.

  Thank you for taking the time to read my tale, I hope it was enjoyable for you. Until next time, farewell—Kyle

 

  About The Author

  Hi, I’m Kyle Robertson, and this is my story. Back in the 70s and 80s, gangs were a big problem. I was smart enough to avoid that dangerous seduction for an only child because I had amazing parents.

  I had friends here and there, but I didn't acquire a real friend until high school. Jeff Gizewski became a strong influence in my life. He drew as I did. He liked the same movies I did and made up stories the same as I. We wanted to be Marvel comic book artists. We thought we could get our titles and draw them as well. Being a teenager clouded us from how the business world worked, so reality showed us the truth.

  After working like a dog, disaster happened. I was diagnosed with type 2 Diabetes. I think the affliction was hereditary and chugging those 2 liters of Mountain Dew to stay awake for more than 16-hour workdays didn't help.

  I found out Diabetes is a slow killer and that it ushered you to the terminal quicker. I was maintaining fine until I was driving to work one day, felt funny, and parked on the side of the street.

  I blacked out on a Monday and woke up in a hospital to Thursday Night Football with incredibly blurry vision. It turned out I had two Grand Mal seizures, and also had 50 mini-strokes in my eyes. I haven't seen clearly since 2005.

  I still thought I could work, so I tried to continue, but having battleship-sized floaters in my sight hindered driving. My workdays were over.

  I went through many surgeries (22) to try to save my sight. I can see, but not clear enough to drive or work. Wear greasy Saran Wrap glasses. That's how I see things now.

  Since my making a living thing dissolved, designing my life came back from its hiatus, and I began writing to fight off the depression, I've been doing that ever since.

  I write fiction stories to escape the real world for a couple of hours. I think sometimes, we all need to escape.

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  [KR1]