by Ryan Rinsler
Nolan looked confused.
“Is this your friend?” asked the woman.
“Hi,” said Matt, still grinning.
“Who are you? Why are you here? Who are you?”
Matt turned around and angrily gestured for Connor to help him. Connor was nervous. He took a breath and stepped out into view of Nolan.
Suddenly the life drained from Nolan’s face. His eyes changed from nervousness to fear, his forehead scrunching up into tight layers as he breathed faster and faster, all the while staring into Connor’s eyes. He fell backwards onto the floor, his gaze fixed on Connor, and began scrabbling backwards, his feet sliding frantically on the carpet. “You…” he uttered, panting, his eyes bulging with fear.
Suddenly he stood up and scrambled onto the desk. He banged against the window with his elbow, and when that did nothing he began struggling with the lock. The three of them watched in horror as he continued to frantically bang against the window until the mechanism broke and the window swung open, revealing a hundred foot drop to solid concrete.
This isn’t happening.
12
Suddenly Matt realized what was going on and leapt toward Nolan, snapping Connor out if his trance. Just as Nolan grabbed hold of the window frame, they snatched at his feet and pulled him violently from the desk to the safety of the floor. He then scrambled for the open door and escaped into the corridor, leaving Connor and Matt scrabbling to their feet.
The woman, suddenly waking up, grabbed her walkie-talkie. “Security we have a vulnerable male making his way down from floor nine. Secure exits.”
They entered the corridor and he was nowhere to be seen.
“Which way did he go?” shouted Connor.
“You go that way, I’ll go this way.”
They took off each way down the corridor, Connor trying each door as he passed. If it was unlocked he glanced inside, if not he moved to the next. Eventually he came to a door to the stairwell. Gamble.
He burst through it and downed the first flight of steps in two jumps, the same for the next. As he landed the second time his injured knee gave way, causing him to stumble slightly. He paused, bent double clutching at his injury. He held his breath, and in that quiet moment heard the tapping of footsteps descending quickly below him. Must be him.
He took off again, quickly but a little more cautiously, taking three jumps per flight and ignoring the pain as best he could. He dropped another four stories and as he passed the exit door to floor three he heard a commotion from the other side. He opened the door and poked his head through, immediately seeing Nolan on the ground, being pinned down by a security guard.
“Don’t hurt him!” shouted Connor as he ran toward them.
“Get off me!” shouted Nolan, his arms clipped behind his back, his cheek pressed to the floor by the weight of the two hundred pound security guard whose knee was pushed into his shoulders.
“Get off him asshole!” shouted Connor, pushing the security guard. “He’s a damn pensioner, man!”
“You stay outta this!” he shouted.
Connor wrapped his arm around the security guard’s neck and dragged him backward, throwing him to the floor, then immediately jumped to Nolan’s help. He attempted to unclip his bound wrists while he writhed, face down, in anger, but then, all of a sudden, he felt a sharp thump in his side.
And then, black.
As his eyes began to open he could see two people sat directly in front of him, saying nothing, both staring at him. Through the blurriness of his vision he could make out he was in some kind of old office, and as more of it came into focus he saw Matt beside him on the sofa, and Nolan on a chair a little away from him.
“You’re lucky we haven’t called the police yet,” said the woman. To her left was a younger man, perfectly trimmed, a neat little V-neck jumper, the drabness of which only matched by his shoes. He sat, perched on the edge of a desk with a BlackBook open in his hand, a disapproving expression across his smug-looking face.
“What happened?” asked Connor.
“You assaulted a security guard is what happened,” she said.
“He was assaulting my friend,” replied Connor wearily, rubbing his eyes.
“Mr. Weinberg here seems to think differently.”
Connor looked at Nolan, sat rigid in his chair. He didn’t look at Connor, not once, choosing to stare out of the nearby window.
“I can see how this looks. It’s not like that. I just need to speak to Nolan.”
“Nolan?”
“Mr. Weinberg. I need some time to speak to him to explain why I’m here.”
She looked across at Nolan, who was still unmoving. After a pause she looked at Connor again. “You have five minutes. If I hear any raised voices, I call the police. If Mr. Weinberg becomes upset or wants you out of here, I call the police.”
She turned to Nolan. “I’ll be right outside the door, Mr. Weinberg. Anything you need, just holler, you hear?”
The man stood up and the two of them left the room, closing the door behind them. Matt looked worried, his hands fidgeting and legs bouncing in his seat. He kept looking at Connor and back to Nolan, who was still staring out of the window.
“Nolan, I know how this looks. I know who you think I am, but I’m not. I’m not him.”
He didn’t move.
“Nolan, I look like him, but it’s not me. I’m from this world — from your world. I, I mean we, we are part of the resistance now. I’ve seen the other worlds — what they’ve become because of what I became in those worlds. That’s not me. I’m here to help.”
Nolan slowly turned to face him. His eyes betrayed a deep fear, but he held eye contact for a few seconds before looking away.
“It was you, Nolan. You sent me here. I met Mana and the others in their world, and I met you. You told me to come and find you so I could get back to their world. Going through Pure Reality isn’t an option because it’s too dangerous. You said that finding you would be our only hope.”
“Not possible.”
Connor shifted to the edge of the sofa, the simple yet negative response still a small breakthrough. “Not possible? What’s not possible?”
He didn’t respond.
“What’s not possible? Getting to their world?”
“Not possible. It’s not possible.”
“Tell me what’s not possible, Nolan. What is it? What’s not possible?”
He started to rock in his chair, placing his palms on the side of his head as he did so. He began to hum, clenching his fist and pulling on his hair. “Not possible. It’s not possible.”
Connor sighed and sat back into the sofa.
“This guy’s batshit crazy,” said Matt.
There must be some way of getting through to him.
“Wait!” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Do you have your BlackBook?”
“It’s in the pickup.”
“Get it, quick.”
Matt jumped up and burst out of the room. Connor sifted through the cards in his wallet until he found what he was looking for, just as Matt burst back into the room.
“I’ve switched it on.”
Connor dialed the number as quickly as he could, and switched it to speakerphone. After a few rings it went to voicemail.
“This Dr. Chen speaking. I’m afra—”
He cut the call and tried again, with the same result.
Dammit, he thought. If only he could get in touch with Stanley, he was sure there would be some connection with him. Something he could say to persuade him to join them.
“Who are you?” asked Nolan the second Connor hung up. Maybe he recognized Stanley’s name.
“My name is Connor Cooper. Until the age of ten my name was Aaron Voss, but that name died with my parents.” Nolan’s face screwed up as he spoke Voss’s name. “Dr. Chen helped me understand what he and their world has become, and I want to help.”
“Don’t speak that name!” he shouted, his han
ds clutching the arms of the chair even harder. “Nobody can help. Not possible!” He turned violently to face the window in what could either be described as a rage or terror.
Connor glanced at Matt in exasperation. Why is this so hard?
“We need you, Nolan. Everybody needs you. You need to come back to us.”
He didn’t reply, continuing to stare out of the window, his cheeks bulging rhythmically as he panted.
This is useless. Connor stood up and took a step toward Nolan.
“No!” he shouted, “I’ll not let you take me!” His eyes were bulging as he stared at Connor in terror.
“I don’t want to hurt you!” he said, holding out his hand.
“Help! Nurse!”
The door burst open and in she stormed. Connor rushed to Nolan and crouched beside him. “Just tell us where the equipment is. Please!”
“That’s enough!” shouted the woman, pulling Connor away.
“Please Nolan! It’s our only chance!”
“You’ll never find it. It’s buried, you’ll never find it,” he muttered. “Never, it’s not possible.”
The woman stood with her hands on her hips between him and Connor. “Leave now before I call the police.”
“Come on, let’s go.”
They left the building as quickly as they could, ignoring the heckling as they jumped in the pickup. Connor was behind the wheel, and as his finger hovered over the starter button, he paused.
“You OK bro?”
He wasn’t. He was raging. “How can he just not help us?”
“He wasn’t all there bro, seriously. He was like some mental patient.”
Connor shook his head. “That has to be some… I dunno… some act.”
“Maybe it’s a defense mechanism, I mean, did you see how scared he was of you? He obviously thinks you’re that Voss guy.”
Connor looked up. With a sudden burst of excitement he flung open the door and jumped out.
“What the hell are you doing now?”
“I’m gonna talk to him in a language he understands.”
He marched back across the road and straight into the shelter, barging people out of the way. Matt jumped out and followed.
Connor burst into the office, the door banging on the wall as it swung open, startling Nolan and the nurse. As Connor slammed the door behind him the woman jumped to her feet.
“I’m going to speak to Nolan, whether you allow me or not,” he said coldly, channeling his memory of Red’s assertiveness and brazen confidence.
As she grabbed her walkie-talkie and fumbled with it, attempting to press the button and alert security, he strode toward her and slapped it out of her hand, firing it across the room.
“I have pepper spray, I have pepper spray!” she shouted, scrabbling at her utility belt. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and brought her close, just as Matt gingerly entered the room behind them. She froze, pushing away from his raging eyes. He reached down and calmly slid the small canister of pepper spray from her belt.
“Bro,” said Matt quietly. “Come on, man.”
Hearing this, he relaxed his grip. “Sit down. You make one sound and I’ll unload this whole can right in your eyeball.”
She stepped back clumsily and dropped to the sofa, visibly shaken. He turned to Nolan, who was still gripping onto the chair, staring in terror at him. He crouched down in front of him and spoke softly.
“You thought you’d escaped me Nolan. You thought all this was over. Well it’s not. It’s not over. Wherever you are we’ll find you. You can end this now. Come with us and end it. If you don’t, you’ll suffer a lifetime of pain.”
Nolan was looking at the floor, his knees bouncing up and down.
“You understand now, don’t you old man?”
“Yes, yes I’ll come with you,” he replied, nodding fearfully.
Connor pulled him in front of him and gave him a firm push toward the door. Matt jumped and opened it, took a few glances out of the doorway and made his way outside. As they emerged from the busy shelter, and with nobody particularly alarmed, they reached the truck which was now surrounded by people. A single security guard was stood with them, speaking into his walkie-talkie, who watched as they approached.
“Is this your vehicle, sir?”
“Sorry,” said Matt, who opened the door and helped Nolan inside, followed quickly by Connor. Matt ran around to the driver's seat and jumped in.
“I can hear sirens, bro.”
“Let’s go.”
13
“I should’ve bought one of dad’s pistols.”
“Your dad has guns?”
Connor nodded.
“Damn, bro. You shoulda brought one of your dad’s pistols.”
The three of them sat in the front of the truck, Nolan in the middle, outside Nolan’s previous home in Bakersfield, the old, fire-damaged pickup truck still in the driveway. The sun had set while they were traveling, and now, in the darkness, the house looked even more menacing than before.
“I can’t see any lights. Maybe they’re out,” said Connor. “Or maybe you killed the guy and his wife moved to her mother’s.”
Matt glared at him, flicking his eyes fearfully between him and Nolan, who was absent-mindedly staring out of the window. Connor shrugged with a grin.
“So where’s all this gear,” asked Connor. “Nolan, where is this gear?”
Nolan suddenly snapped back to reality. “Underground. Buried underground.”
“Damn bro, he’s like a broken robot.”
“You’ll take us to the equipment?”
“Yes, I’ll take you. Take you to the equipment.”
Connor sighed in exasperation. “You’re actually going to take us to the equipment?”
“Yes, yes.”
“OK bro, so let’s get this straight. We’re gonna go in there, to the house where the psycho killer lives who tried to kill us, somehow get some equipment from underground, take it out, put it in the truck and leave, all without being beaten to death with a baseball bat?”
“Uh huh.”
“Following a guy who's got a smaller vocabulary than your kid?”
“Come on, let’s get this over with.” He had no time for banter. He stepped out of the truck and pulled Nolan out by his arm, more guiding him than forcing him. He looked him in the eyes, shaking him by the shoulders until he returned the eye contact, then spoke deliberately.
“You’re gonna take us straight to where the gear is. You’ll keep your head down and stay quiet. Understood?”
He nodded quickly. Connor pulled him by the arm and gave him a firm push in the back as they stepped onto the road. They made their way through the darkness toward the house, all three of them treading as quietly as possible on the stony driveway. Matt and Connor stepped lightly in a crouch, keeping to the shadows, where Nolan walked quickly in front of them, arms straight, head down.
“Slow down,” beckoned Connor with a loud whisper. Nolan ignored him, causing the two of them to quicken their pace to keep up. As they neared the house Connor’s eyesight adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to make out the shape of the buildings and various artifacts in the driveway. Nolan continued his march right past the unlit house toward the large barn-like garage, with no sign of stopping.
“Bro, bro!” Matt grabbed his arm. He was staring at the porch.
They both stopped in their tracks and stared at what looked like a person, sitting on the floor next to the front door. They waited.
“What the hell, bro,” whispered Matt, still clinging to Connor’s arm.
“Go take a look.”
“What? You go take a look! It’s your turn.”
Connor looked around for a weapon. He grabbed the piece of wood that Matt had used to club Chad over the head a few days before, then began to creep toward the house, crouching slightly, holding the wood like a baseball bat. His gaze was fixated on the dark outline of the person as he stepped, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of
movement. As he drew nearer, the dark shape became a person, and he suddenly realized that person was Chad.
He flinched, throwing the bat a little higher. Chad wasn’t moving, sat upright leaning against the wall, his chin on his chest. Connor paused and looked back at Matt, who gestured for him to keep walking. He turned back around. New me. He took a few more steps toward him, his feet banging the base of the steps of the porch with a loud thud. He flinched again. No movement.
Is he dead? Is this a trap?
He carefully climbed the steps and stood next to the seemingly lifeless body, wood raised in the air ready to strike. He peered through the window in the door, trying to discern any shapes in the darkness, but the house looked empty and cold. He gave Chad a swift kick on the leg. Still nothing. Crouching down slightly to take a better look, he quickly saw that his face was covered in blood, as was the wall behind him. He jumped away in shock, staggering backward clumsily down the steps, before catching himself with both hands on the dusty driveway. He caught his breath.
“Is that the guy?” asked Matt.
“Yeah,” replied Connor, marching quickly towards him.
“Is he dead?”
“Yeah, he’s dead.”
Matt grabbed the side of his head with both hands. “Oh shit, I knew it.”
Connor set off after Nolan. “No, it wasn’t you. It looks like he’s been shot or something. There’s blood all over the wall.”
Matt jogged to catch up. “His wife musta smoked him!” he said, still in a loud whisper.
“Let’s just get the stuff and get outta here.”
The garage door was ajar and there was light inside, and as Connor peered between the gap he could see Nolan moving boxes and car parts from one side of the garage to the other. They squeezed in and closed the door behind them.
“I guess this is the place,” said Connor, beginning to help with the move. “What are we looking for, Nolan?”
“Underground,” he replied quickly without looking up.
Eventually they cleared a space, revealing a bare concrete floor. Nolan looked up and pointed to the blank area.
