TIME SPENT
"313" Volume 2 of 3
Copyright 2013 by J. David Clarke
Cover design by Kimi A. Phillips
Smashwords Edition
ALSO BY J. DAVID CLARKE
The Rubberband Man and Other Stories
Missing Time ("313" Volume 1 of 3)
Time Lost ("313" Volume 3 of 3, coming soon)
The Wizard in My Window (coming soon)
Keeper of Days I: The Book of Day and Night (coming soon)
Find me on the web:
www.facebook.com/clarketacular
www.amazon.com/author/clarketacular
From Amazon reviews for MISSING TIME
"Like 'LOST' on speed!"
"Looking forward to what happens next!"
"...had a Koontz feel to it."
"Wonderfully creative..."
"Fast moving. Highly recommend."
"One of the most thrilling books I have read in a long time!"
"...it left me hungry for more!"
"...strange and wonderful story..."
"...combines suspense, drama, wit, deception, with a hint of passion."
"This is a must read."
CONTENTS
Author's Note
Prologue: "You don't forget the end of the world."
One: "More super than super."
Two: "The spark."
Three: "Keep an eye on this one."
Four: "Is there anything you care about?"
Five: "Forgotten."
Six: "I am nothing."
Seven: "Simon doesn't live here anymore."
Eight: "Look at the prideful man and see him humbled."
Nine: "I never said good bye."
Ten: "Is this really happening?"
Eleven: "Bad as hell."
Epilogue: "The power of time."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
TIME SPENT is Vol. 2 of a 3 part story called "313". Volume 1, MISSING TIME, was a story told in 13 parts. The story concerned a group of high school kids who were involved in a school bus crash. They discover that since the crash they possess special powers. Each of them remembers something different about the crash, and none of them is entirely sure what happened. They also discover that a military group is hunting them down one by one. If you have not read MISSING TIME, I highly recommend you do so before proceeding with this volume.
I wish to thank everyone who bought, read, enjoyed, and supported MISSING TIME. I truly appreciate you. Without your invaluable support this volume would never have been completed.
Keep reading. We've got a long way to go, and a wild ride still ahead. Enjoy!
Prologue
"You don't forget the end of the world."
Sugary sweet pop music floated down from the speaker on the ceiling above: Taylor Swift breaking up with yet another boyfriend, and singing to the world about it.
Becca cringed internally.
The nail technician droned on about baby daddy drama of some utterly ridiculous kind while applying polish to Becca's toes. Becca resisted the urge to reach out with her mind and silence the woman. Cindy? Candy? She had forgotten her name.
She feigned listening, but her mind was elsewhere. She risked only quick, furtive glances toward the door to the salon. Her quarry was late.
"Hang tight, Miller, we have a possible target incoming," said a voice over the earpiece in her right ear. A slim cord connected the earpiece to a device on her back, hidden by the long blonde hair that hung down over her ear.
"Mm-hmm," she said quietly.
"I know right??" said Cindy/Candy, assuming Becca was speaking to her. "He's such a dudebro, I swear!"
"Sounds like a winner," Becca said.
The door to the salon opened.
A man walked in, his face concealed by the shadow of the gray hoodie he wore. He had dark brown skin (she could tell from his hands), medium height and build. He stopped just inside the door as the little chime sounded. The door swung slowly closed as he stepped forward and looked around.
"Is it him, Miller?"
Becca didn't reply. Again, she resisted the impulse to take over the man's body and force him to lift his hood.
"Hello," the salon manager, a slim Asian woman in her mid-forties, greeted him, "can I help you, sir?"
"Miller, is it our guy or not?"
"No, thanks," he said. His voice was familiar somehow. "I'm looking for...."
He spotted Becca at the back of the salon. He pushed past the manager and walked toward her quickly.
"Shit," Becca said, recognizing him. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Go! All units, go!" said the voice in her ear.
"No, wait!" Becca said, jumping to her feet, but it was too late.
Agents burst in the front and back doors, turned around from where they had been sitting at nail stations, hair stations, stood from the waiting area. All drew their weapons and surrounded the man in the hoodie.
The man calmly raised his hands. "Hello, Becca," he said. "Long time no see."
She reached across him and yanked the hood back, revealing Kevin's bald head, clean-shaven face and penetrating brown eyes.
"Not long enough," she said.
Kevin put his hands down. The agents tensed, but held their fire.
"These men," Kevin said, "Are you using your powers on them?"
Becca grinned. "They're with me!" She took out her badge and showed it to him. Kevin nodded.
One of the agents, who had come in the back door to the salon, approached Becca from her right. "Powers? What's going on, Miller? Who is this and what is he talking about?"
Kevin was silent, waiting for her to answer.
"Someone I really hoped I'd never have to look at again," she said, putting her badge away.
"I didn't think you would," Kevin said. "But it's important. You remember the last time I saw you?"
Becca rolled her eyes. "You're kidding, right? Um, yeah. You don't forget the end of the world."
"It's worse. Everything's worse."
"End of the what?" the agent asked.
"The world," Kevin said. "And it's closer than you think."
Becca reached into her purse. "Sorry, I'm gonna need a cig if I have to deal with this."
"You smoke now?" Kevin asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's the part of all this that bothers you?"
Kevin sighed, glancing around at the armed agents who surrounded them. She had a point.
"Do you think you could get them to lower their guns?" he asked.
"Cigarette first," Becca said, holding it between her lips and raising her lighter to it.
"There's kind of a time factor here," he said.
"Isn't there always?" she asked in a nasal voice as she held back, then released a billow of smoke. Once she was satisfied, she nodded to one of the men. They lowered their guns, but stared warily at Kevin.
"Okay, now why the fuck are you here? After what happened," her thoughts turned to the rooftop, the crack in the sky, but she quickly pushed aside the image, "you said it was dangerous for us to be together."
"It is," he said. "But I didn't have a choice. I need your help."
Becca rolled her eyes. "What else is new?"
"I can feel you in there, you know," Kevin said, "scrabbling around in my head. You know that doesn't work. Nothing works on me."
Becca gave him an odd look. "You what? I'm not doing anything."
Kevin's eyes widened. "Oh no."
"What oh no? Oh no what?"
Kevin raised a hand to his throat, and made a choking sound. He looked around the salon, at Becca, the agents who surrounded them, then behind them through the plate glass window.
"What the fuck?" Becca asked.
Kevin turned back to her
, a terrified look on his face. "She's here."
"She?"
Kevin convulsed, a terrible dry heave emerging from his mouth. He heaved again, and again, and then collapsed backward.
"Jesus!" Becca said, her cigarette slipping from her mouth.
Two of the agents stepped forward, kneeling over Kevin as his body continued to convulse on the floor. Kevin's mouth yawned wide, and first one, then another tiny form emerged:
Bees.
Candy screamed.
More and more poured forth, emerging in a dark funnel. The sound of their buzzing filled the salon, and men and women swatted at them, backing away from Kevin. Some ran out the front, some out the back. Some cowered in fear at their hair and nail stations.
Becca backed up as the bees spread out. Soon they filled the room, getting in her nose and ears. She moved back into a small room with chairs whose backs leaned into wall-mounted sinks. There was a door with a glass window separating the two rooms.
"Miller," the agent who had spoken before, Michaels, called. She looked back to see he was swarmed with bees, they were clogging his mouth and covering his eyes. Becca reached out to grab his hand but he fell to his knees, then flopped onto his face. His back was a writhing, buzzing mountain.
She slammed the door and watched as the last of the agents ran from the salon, swatting at the massive swarm that clogged the air.
Becca sat on one of the shampoo station chairs, and casually pulled another cigarette from her back. She held the cigarette between her lips and lit it, as the glass door grew opaque with the writhing forms of the bees.
"Beautiful," she said, "fucking beautiful."
End Prologue
CHAPTER ONE
"Boom!" he cried, manically pressing the dual keypads of his PSP with his thumbs. "Yes! Yes! Oh, dang. Crap! YES!" So lost was he in his game, Brandon failed to noticed the girl approaching him from the other direction.
She had short brown hair, with bangs on her forehead and a lock pulled over each ear. She wore thick glasses, which slid low on her nose, and she was clutching an open paperback in her hands, just as lost in it as Brandon was in his game. Brandon's typically unruly mop of brown curls was even longer than usual, which combined to block his view of the world around him, and the girl's approach.
"That's it!" Brandon said, pulling off a combo of attacks. "There it is! There it is! Oh yeah!"
PSP and book collided as the two were in mid-stride and the paperback went tumbling to the ground, along with the girl, who ran directly into Brandon's hands and lost her footing. She fell backward onto her backpack with a thump.
"Oh!" Brandon exclaimed. "Sorry! Sorry!" He shoved the PSP into a pocket and reached out a hand to help her up.
"No, it's my fault, I wasn't looking," she said, taking his hand.
Brandon hauled her to her feet. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, brushing the seat of her brown skirt.
"This yours?" Brandon said, leaning down to pick up the book.
"Thanks," she said.
"The Hunger Games," he said, noticing the book's cover. "I haven't read it, any good?"
She nodded excitedly, "Yes! So good. Really good."
"Cool. I've heard about it, really want to check it out sometime."
"Well maybe you can borrow it when I'm done," she said.
"Cool, yeah, definitely."
"What grade are you in?" she asked.
"Soph," he said.
"Oh, me too!"
"Nice," he said. "Oh! Yeah. I'm Brandon,"
"Beth," she said.
"Nice to meet you," he said, smiling.
"You too. I love your Blue Lantern shirt, by the way!"
"Oh!" Brandon looked down at his shirt and beamed. "Thanks! Yeah, power of hope!"
"Yeah," she said.
The courtyard began to fill with milling students, heading from one set of double glass doors to the other.
Brandon looked up. "Oh. I gotta get to class, so..."
"Me too," she said.
"It was nice meeting you, though," he said.
"You too! Again!"
They laughed. She stepped around him, but turned back.
"Be careful walking with that game," she said.
"Ha. Yeah," he said, patting his pocket.
"What game are you playing anyway?"
"Oh, 'Tekken: Dark Resurrection'. I've played it pretty much out, but I still like it."
"Very cool. I'm more of a Lego Star Wars girl. See ya."
Brandon's jaw dropped.
She walked off toward the doors on the south side of the courtyard. Brandon stood and watched her go for several seconds. A rough hand shoved him on the back.
"Fuck's your problem, Holt. Move," said Tommy, one of the most muscle-bound kids Brandon had ever met.
"Sorry," Brandon said, and turned to go.
But try as he might, it was impossible for him to remove the grin from his face the rest of the day. Beth. Her name is Beth.
______________________
He urged himself on faster and faster, but Brandon knew it was hopeless. The Earth was speeding away from him, and leaving him behind. He closed his eyes, and tried to calm his mind. Finally, knowing this was the end, he stopped.
He heard something then: a voice, Beth's voice.
You're a hero, Brandon. You're my hero.
His eyes snapped open.
Brandon's hands clenched into fists, and his brow furrowed. The receding Earth wavered before him as space rippled. Stars seemed to elongate into curved lines around him.
The blue-green sphere of Earth jumped to land in front of him and Brandon rocketed to it.
The old pickup rattled over the gravel road, throwing stones behind its wheels as it bounced along. The farmer clasped the steering wheel with one calloused hand while the other was draped over the shoulder of his wife.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, looking out the right window.
There was a streak across the sky as something plummeted to the ground. It impacted with a loud boom.
"Did you see that?" she asked.
"I sure did." He stopped the truck and threw the gear shifter into park. "Whatever it was, it just landed in our back forty."
He opened the door and stepped out, grabbing the trucker cap from the dash and placing it on his head. Reaching behind the seat, he pulled out a long zipper bag and unzipped it to reveal a rifle, which he drew out of the bag.
"Oh, honey, you don't need that," she said.
"Better to have it and not need it," he said.
She nodded reluctantly and opened the passenger door to step out.
"You stay here!" he said.
"I most certainly will not," she said. "I'm coming with you!"
He sighed and stepped around the truck. "You stay close to me, then."
They walked across the field, following the trail of smoke that led to the crash site. It wasn't like you see in the movies, with a long gouge in the earth leading to the end where the object lay. Instead, it was more like a giant scoop was removed from the earth, with the crops flattened around it.
In its center lay a battered metal cylinder with a panel hanging off by one hinge.
"That looks like a door," the farmer said.
His wife tightened her grip on his arm.
They inched closer, and peered inside.
"It's empty," said a voice from behind them.
The farmer spun around and raised his rifle.
"Whoooaaa, whoa!" It was a tall, skinny young man, maybe twenty years old, with curly brown hair. He was completely naked. He raised his hands, then quickly lowered one hand to cover his crotch. "It's okay! It's okay!"
"Who are you?" the farmer said.
"My name is Brandon. Brandon Holt. I'm, uh, I'm an American."
"What is this?" he asked, gesturing to the satellite.
"It's not a spaceship or anything, it's a...it's a satellite. Well, it's not even a real satellite, Brent Spiner lied about that, but uh, it just got
pulled along behind me, I think."
"Pulled along?" the farmer's wife asked, her voice shaking. "Pulled along from where?"
"Well that's, yeah, that's an excellent question, ma'am." He lowered his left hand to join the right in covering his crotch. "You don't happen to have some pants, do you? I'm not sure what happened to my clothes, I think I warped right out of them."
"Answer the question!" The farmer raised his rifle.
"Pulled...uh, from...space. Space, pretty much. Yeah. But listen, it's all good! I'm not an alien. At least, I don't think so. I'm really not clear on that whole thing yet, to be honest, but...it's okay, I promise!"
"Get back to the truck, babe," the farmer said, backing up.
His wife ran for the truck, and the farmer backed up several steps, then turned and ran behind her.
"W-wait!" Brandon called.
He scrambled after them, but they jumped into the truck and started it before he could catch up to them. He grabbed the passenger door handle, and jerked it, but the door was locked.
"Wait! I can be your super-baby! Raise me in your country ways!"
Time Spent Page 1
