Dispersion: Book Two of the Recursion Event Saga

by Brian J. Walton

  “Jesus, Ray,” Shelley mutters from her seat.

  “It’s not what you think,” I say.

  There’s a rustling in the bushes and Carl and Tracy appear in the path. Carl advances on us, his jaw set. He pauses when he notices who I am standing with.

  Ray turns on Carl, his eyes blazing. “Who the hell do I have to talk to to get a damp cloth in this place?” He gestures at his wet lapel.

  “Mr. Brenner, my apologies. But I was looking for this young man.”

  “Oh, were you?” Brenner asks, glancing at me.

  “I’ll find some of the help to assist you with that,” Carl says. “But he’s going to have to come with me.”

  Behind them I see the two ISD agents step onto the path. I take a step behind Brenner, hiding myself from view. I glance at Jane Shelley. She gives me a sympathetic smile and takes a draw on her cigarette.

  “This is my guest,” Brenner says, taking a step forward. “And you are the hired help, Carl.”

  Carl grimaces catching my eye. Behind him, I see the two ISD agents turn, heading the other direction on the path. Did they think they were witnessing just another party quarrel? Do they really not see me? Then I hear it, a twig snapping like a gunshot in the relative quiet of the garden path. Vic, drawing them away.

  “Yes, Mr. Brenner,” Carl says, and shuffles past us. Tracy follows, giving me the stink eye the entire way.

  When the path is clear, Brenner turns to me and smiles sadly. “Bob Carr is a letcherous fuck,” he says. “Maybe you’ll ultimately regret hitching your wagon to his star, or maybe you won’t. But at least now you can’t say that you weren’t warned.”

  “Ray, don’t be so dramatic.” Shelley says.

  Brenner rolls his eyes and takes a step closer to me. “He’s lured more than one of his proteges onto these garden paths. It can be alluring, getting close to someone so open.” He gives me a knowing nod as he says the word. “But he has no interest in you beyond what you can give to him. Believe me, I know.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and give Brenner a weak smile. “Thanks, I really thought he was just interested in my writing.”

  “Ha!” Shelley exclaims. She leans forward on the bench. “That will be the day.”

  “What’s your name?” Brenner asks.

  “Ellis,” I almost say my whole name, but I don’t.

  “Ellis,” Brenner echoes. “Listen, you could sell your script to Bob, but there’s a very good chance that anything of yours he bought would just be rewritten from the ground up anyway. If you find yourself free of Bob in the near future, why don’t you bring your script to me.”

  I shake my head. “It’s already bought and paid for, but I don’t think he likes what’s written.”

  Brenner snorts out a laugh. “He never likes what he gets! Tell me, has he sicked those two mafia goons on you yet?”

  Brenner takes my silence as affirmation.

  “What’s the script called?” he asks.

  “The Girl Who Fell Through Time.”

  “Is that right?” says Shelley, seeming to finally take notice of our conversation.

  “It’s an okay title,” says Ray. “How’s the story?”

  “It needs a polish,” I say, feeling emboldened. “It just wasn’t what Bob was looking for. You know the asshole is trying to get his advance back from me.”

  “That little bitch,” Brenner says.

  Shelley leans forward a little further. “So, is there a female lead.”

  “Actually, there is,” I say.

  “How young is the character?”

  “About eighteen,” I say, then hesitate. Jane Shelley is easily in her early forties. “Or mid-twenties.”

  “Perfect,” Shelley says. “Ray, let me know what you think of it.”

  “Tell you what,” Ray says. “I’ll buy off what you owe, sight unseen. God, I’d love to see Bob Carr’s face when he hears the news.”

  “That’d be great,” I say. “How can I get it to you?”

  “Call my agent,” Brenner says, and then pauses. “Tell him you’re the kid in the garden. I’ll remember.”

  I give him a genuine smile. “I’ll do that,” I say.

  Shelley smiles at me as well and returns to her cigarette.

  I feel oddly comforted as I continue down the path, returning to the back patio of the house. Had I really just solved my Bob Carr problem? The live music and chatter of the party returns me to the present. Vic said to meet him out front in ten minutes. How long ago was that? I scan the crowd. Vic is nowhere to be seen. But last I saw him, he was busy distracting a couple of his fellow agents back in the garden. I turn back to the dense bamboo patches. The garden is quiet and dark. And then, off to my right, Vic emerges suddenly, hopping over a fence and dropping down into the thick of the party. Nobody even notices him as he strolls nonchalantly towards the front of the house.

  He finds me in the crowd, locking eyes with me, and mouths “go” while gesturing with one finger toward the front of the house. I scan the garden to see the two ISD agents emerge from the path I had just come from.

  Shit. Not out of the clear yet.

  I turn back around, running straight into Carl’s ample belly. He has a towel in one hand and a bottle of perrier in the other.

  “This isn’t over,” he growls.

  “Hey man, just talk to Brenner,” I say. “He’ll tell you what’s going on.”

  I slide between him and Tracy, giving the ghoulish man my most bastardly grin. I return to the house, moving through the crowd of party-goers as quickly as I can manage.

  “Ellis, Ellis!”

  I turn, seeing Barry running after me.

  “Ellis, I’ve been trying to find you ever since…” he trails off. “Thank God you’re okay! They didn’t rough you up too bad, did they?” He looks me up and down.

  I take a step toward him. “Barry,” I say.

  “Yeah?” he responds.

  “You’re fired.”

  I emerge from the house to find Vic already seated on Vance’s motorcycle with the engine running. He waves me over and I hop on behind him.

  “What took you so long,” he mutters.

  “I had some business to take care of,” I say in response.

  “Well, you’re not out of the clear yet.” Vic turns and I follow his gaze to see the two ISD agents emerge from the house.

  He guns the motorcycle and we take off, weaving through the line of cars. I turn back to see the two agents engaged in a shouting match with the flustered looking parking attendant. Poor guy.

  Vic pulls out of the driveway and guns it as we down the street. I glance behind us. The road is clear, but my heart-rate doesn’t return to normal until we’ve left Mulholland Drive and are cruising at even clip through Westwood Village.

  “Why were you following me?” I ask, speaking over the roar of the engine and rush of the air.

  “I wasn’t” Vic shouts back.

  “Then what were you doing at the party?” I ask.

  “I was following those two agents.”

  “Why are they following me?”

  “You tell me,” Vic says. “They showed up this afternoon. Did you and your buddies do anything that might have set them off?”

  I think back to my conversation with my father. He could have made a phone call. He could have told them that we were planning to scope out the Los Angeles Station.

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “What?” Vic shouts.

  “Pull over!” I shout back. “We need to talk.”

  Vic pulls into the parking lot of a Whataburger. He parks it and I climb off the motorcycle.

  “Tell me what happened,” Vic said.

  I cross my arms. “Why should I trust you with anything?”

  “Is saving your ass back there not reason enough?”

  “You tell me,” I say, throwing his words back at him.

  Vic takes in a breath. “You know, I really don’t need you to trust me. It won�
��t stop me from getting what I need to know.”

  I shrug again.

  “Okay,” Vic says. “Here’s what I know. You’re friend Vance, along with his grad school buddies Quincy and Aleisha, are hiding the location of a tunnel in the basement of the Camton University Psych building. I don’t’ know where it goes to, but I know that Jane has been hiding there.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  He hesitates. “I have a way of tracking her. It’s foolproof, except for when she goes through a tunnel.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “I also know that you visited your father this morning. And your father happens to be connected to some very important people. Some people who know the location of the ISD’s LA Station. Two and two make four, Ellis. I’m not an idiot. You’re planning on making a visit to the LA Station. I want to know why.”

  I glance at the restaurant, noticing for the first time in a while just how hungry I am. “How about some food first?”

  I stare at the man sitting in front of me. He watches me impassively as I tear into my burger and shake. There’s a ferocity behind his calm exterior and I can’t decide whether I find it calming or terrifying. The correct answer is probably both. I finish my burger and crumple up the wrapping, setting it aside.

  “Can I trust Jane?”

  Vic’s eyes shift almost imperceptibly, but he otherwise has no reaction. “Why are you asking me that?”

  I open my bag, pull out the script, and flip to the last few pages with the phrase “don’t trust her” repeated over and over again.

  “Because something in my subconscious says that I shouldn’t.”

  “Go see a psychiatrist, then.”

  I lean forward. “A psychiatrist couldn’t help me with this, but you can.”

  Vic shrugs. “Tell me what she’s planning to do and I’ll tell you if you can trust her.”

  I take a sip from my shake. Vic wants something from me, or he would have left already, and I’ve likely just stumbled onto exactly what he wants.

  “You don’t know what she’s planning?” I say with a slight smile. “I thought you know everything.”

  “I can’t read minds,” Vic says. “I’ve got ideas, but they’re just guesses. What has she told you?”

  Killing Me Softly is on the radio. A trio of African Americans, dressed entirely in denim and combing their impressively shaped afros, are grooving to the music in the corner booth. I turn back to Vic. “If I tell you what she’s planning, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Let me put it this way. Jane, she’s living on a razor’s edge. One misstep to the right or to the left, and it’s not just her that dies, she might take half of the west coast with her.” He leans back. “So you tell me. Should I do something about it or just, I don’t know, hang loose.”

  “Your lingo doesn’t impress me, time traveling man.” I say.

  “I know things you couldn’t even imagine,” Vic says.

  “I’ve seen some things myself,” I respond.

  He leans forward. “Try this on for size. Forty years from now, you’ll be able to marry whomever you like.” He raises his eyebrows, searching my face. I try and keep my emotions under check.

  “I don’t care what the man thinks I can or can’t do,” I say, cringing at the words even as I say them. Christ, I’m starting to talk to like Vance.

  Vic leans forward. “Do you care about fate of your grandchildren?”

  My heart does a little flop.

  “You heard me right. Grandchildren. This is your future, Ellis Claymore You shack up with a nice little British chap in the late eighties. It’s under the radar, of course. But you consider yourself married. You ditch Hollywood and finally write that great American novel. You move to San Francisco and get a teaching fellowship at Princeton. It’s a nice gig, only two classes a week, and plenty of time to stay home and play with your two adopted little girls. You had to adopt them as a single parent, of course. Because that’s just what the times are like, but it’s still one of them grows up to be an astrophysicist, the other a chemistry teacher. They both inherited your partner’s taste for science, but they still share your love of movies. The youngest never marries but your older daughter finds someone real nice and down to earth. He’s a construction worker. And two of them have little boys. Their first boy is named Jack, after her husband. But the second one? They name him Ellis. They name him after their grandfather. And every Saturday night the whole family comes around to your little San Francisco apartment, cooks a meal, and watches a movie together. Every once in a while you’ll talk about the movie you made before leaving Hollywood for novels. But you don’t need to watch it because you’ve seen it a million times. Though, some nights they’ll put it on just for the way it makes you cringe at all the corny lines.”

  Vic’s grip has relaxed and he slowly lets go of my wrist. I stare at it dumbly. “Is that—is that what happens?”

  “It could be,” Vic says. “If you want to get out of this weekend alive. It’s your choice. Whatever it is the five of you think you’ll be achieving, or a future. A life. A family. What’s it going to be?”

  I stare at him, anger rising in my chest. “You asshole. You actually made me…” I trail off.

  “What?” He says. “Hope a little? That’s what you need if you’re going to live.”

  I take in a breath, then slowly let it out.

  “It’s her dreams,” I say.

  He blinks, but does nothing else. “What about her dreams?”

  “She sees herself—her, uh, older self, talking with her at the Los Angeles Station. She even knows what date it’s going to happen.”

  “When?” Vic asks.

  “Sunday night.” I say.

  “She says that going there will cause a—what’s it called.”

  “A Recursion Event,” Vic says.

  I nod. “She thinks it will kill Phaedrus.”

  Vic looks away, leaning back in the booth. He strokes his skin softly, his fingers avoiding the scar on his face, and then turns back to me. “You’re going to help her go through with her plan.”

  “What?” I say. “You’re not going to try and stop us.”

  He shakes his head and tosses the keys to the motorcycle on the table. “Not yet. I need to find out more information first.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  He pauses a moment, then turns back to look me square in the eyes. “Like whether or not there’s another me running around at the Los Angeles Station. I don’t remember being there this weekend. I shouldn’t be there.” He pauses, shaking his head. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not.”

  He turns suddenly back to me and lowers his head, talking softly. “Do your mission, as planned. But you need to leave as soon as you can. Tonight, if possible. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going if you can help it. Those ISD agents aren’t going to stop looking for you. And they may try even harder now that they’ve seen me.”

  “Do you think they recognized you?” I ask.

  Vic shrugs. “They don’t need to.” He stands up, “We’ll talk again. Remember, leave tonight.”

  “Wait, don’t you need a ride?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Vic says without turning back. And then he’s gone. I finish my shake, glancing up at the group in the corner booth. They see me and look away. Hey There Lonely Girl is now playing over the radio. I get up, throw away my trash and head for the door. When I step into the parking lot, the motorcycle is still there but Vic is nowhere in sight.

  Longdale’s car is in the circle drive when I pull Vance’s motorcycle up to the garage. Jim’s VW bus is there, as well as several others that I don’t recognize. Longdale muse be having a party. I hop off and walk around the back to the pool house. But it’s empty and dark. What time is it anyway? It can’t be much past nine, and Vance said to meet back here at eight. Could they have gone somewhere?

  I turn, looking across the patio to the main house. The inside is lit and I see people loungi
ng about. They’re talking. Laughing.

  Is that… Jane?

  I take step closer. It is Jane, and she’s having quite the laugh with Constance.

  What the hell?

  I pad quickly to the back door and open it, stepping inside.

  “Hey, Ellis!” Vance jumps up. He rushes over to me, clapping me on the back.

  “Jim here was just saying how much of an asshole you are!”

  I follow Vance’s gaze to see Jim, sprawled out on the couch, a half-empty whiskey bottle beside him. “You fucking asshole!” Jim shouts. He lunges forward, jabbing an accusing finger at me, and rolls off the couch in the process.

  I turn to Vance and hiss in his ear. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Jim came over to drink Longdale’s booze and then Constance showed up with food, and suddenly it was all ‘tonight’s a night for celebration,’ and…” he adds, “we’re all going up to the mountain tomorrow.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Together.”

  “Shit,” I breathe. “Longdale invited me earlier, but I turned him down. Can we get out of it?”

  Vance leads me over to the kitchen table and hands me a beer. “Longdale was being very insistent.”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask.

  “Come on, you guys! Get over here!” I turn to see Constance waving us toward the living room.

  I gave a perfunctory smile and wave as I open my beer.

  “I don’t know,” Vance whispers. “If we start getting ready now then Longdale will know something is up. But we can’t wait until after they leave because that will be too late.”

  “You’re right, we can’t wait,” I say. “We have to leave tonight.”

  “What?” Vance asks, stopping.

  I turn back to him, trying to act as casual as possible.

  “Ellis,” Longdale says with a shout, “I didn’t know you were hanging out with Vance’s new friends.”

  Aleisha raises her beer in the air, “And I don’t know why Vance didn’t tell us he had so many old friends!”

  Vance shrugs. “Grad school, it’s keeping me busy.”