Time Jacker

by Aaron Crash

  It was for a construction site. It was easy work, paid well, but was boring as hell. If he were a different guy, he would’ve told the construction company to go to hell, but Jack still had that damn moral compass. And he needed to think things through.

  His head was starting to hurt a little too much, so he started time again, brewed some coffee, and fried up some eggs. So, during his guitar practice, none of the beasties came calling. He’d eat, do the side job, and then go back to the bank. At this point, it was the scene of the crime, and while the cops had checked it out, they were caught in the Tempus Influunt. Jack wasn’t.

  In other news, during his research the night before, he’d discovered who the douchebag rich guy had been. Preston Tarrington. That was a total rich prick’s name. Tarrington had a ton of traffic stops and a few resisting arrests for public drunkenness. Googling the Tarringtons? Preston’s father, Tim Tarrington, was a big real estate developer in, you guessed it, Cherry Creek. There were whispers of organized crime connections, definitely some funky-ass government deals, and just an air of shit around the entire Tarrington family.

  They were down in Plum Creek working on a deal for a housing development off the freeway. So that explained why R1CHB0Y was slumming it, eating at Señor Chang’s.

  Jack left his place and drove past Hugo Mundi’s crappy little house in the bad part of town. He got out of his car and rang the doorbell, but no one answered. He had to talk to Hugo about the toy soldier. But it wouldn’t be then. He could swing by later that night.

  Jack drove on to the construction site to guard holes in the ground. It was twenty bucks an hour, and his main job was to stop kids from playing around with the equipment or accidentally killing themselves. It was fine. It gave him time to scroll through his phone, get caught up on email, and ponder his strange new life.

  What did he want out of life now? He literally had all the time in the world. He wanted to learn to play the guitar and work on his aim because he had considered becoming a professional speed and competition shooter, but he had to practice more. He also wanted to sleep more. He had a lot of sleep to catch up on.

  As for money?

  Well, that opened a can of worms. How much of a thieving asshole did he want to be?

  It wasn’t like he could go back in time to play the stock market, or bop forward in time. No, he could stop it, and he could interact with things but not people.

  Okay, so he was going to be a bit of a thieving asshole as long as he robbed pricks like the Tarringtons. Jack had always liked Robin Hood—steal from the rich and give to the poor. He could give a tithe to his church, like his parents had his entire life. Moms still sent ten percent to charities. Jack had sent the diocese a check the night before for a food drive.

  And Jack could help out Pinetree because that bar was always just on the edge of closing. He could help out his mom and aunt since they were old and had money issues and Cousin Eddie was raising their rent.

  And Jack wanted a girlfriend. He’d been too busy to date, and that whole online thing was iffy on the best of days. He didn’t come across very well because even assholes with a heart of gold were often just seen as assholes.

  Annie would’ve been good. Could still be good. He had to find her. Maybe they wouldn’t fall in love, but there was always the chance. And saving a girl from a demon just might make her sweet on you.

  Sitting in your car, looking at a hole in the ground, could clean your mind like very few things on Earth. The sun was heading toward the horizon once his relief came driving up. Jack had made another a hundred and sixty dollars guarding a hole.

  His life was as stupid as it was boring.

  Not anymore.

  First, he’d eat, practice using his power, and check out the bank one more time, or at least the parking lot. Then he’d head off to Hugo’s house. Hugo was vital at this point—he’d given Jack the soldier.

  Jack stopped at Señor Chang’s, and he got the General Tso’s nachos and a Coors Light. Coors Light was like beer...if you squinted hard enough. Anyway, he liked how it tasted with nachos. He took his dinner to the bank parking lot. Sunday night, no one was around—well, except across the parking lot a group of tall women trotted out of a big yellow bus. They stopped to stand in front of the Health Power gym. Health Power! HP! Better health and more power for less!

  It was ten bucks a month. Jack was a member, but he’d not had enough time to really commit to a workout plan. Again, something else that could change.

  Those women looked like some kind of basketball or volleyball team. He wasn’t sure what they were doing at the Health Power on a Sunday night.

  He ate the nachos, sitting on his trunk, which more and more had become his usual dining area. He finished eating, finished his beer, and then got to work.

  A click to the left, and the world stopped.

  After spending the day in the normal flow of time, the Tempus Influunt, his head was clear, and he felt no pain. But there was something in the air, some kind of danger, he could feel. No wind, nothing but silence, in a world put on pause.

  He’d been working that day, so he had his pistol in a shoulder holster under his jacket. He pulled it now. He’d shot Horns that one time, and then nothing. Would it work again?

  He heard the grumble of something near the Big Boy Café south of the bank. Something was chewing, noisily, and swallowing just as loudly. The sudden noise put a bad feeling in Jack’s gut. Another fucking monster. He was going to find another fucking monster, and he’d have to kill it dead.

  He walked around the bank building to see something in the dumpsters behind the Big Boy Café. It was shaking the dumpster, rattling the metal, gulping down garbage, before belching like it had shit itself.

  He went forward out of curiosity as much as anything. It was twilight, but a streetlight was just across the asphalt of the parking lot. It would give him enough light to see what was in the dumpster.

  Jack stopped himself. It wasn’t any of his business what was over there. It wasn’t bothering him, so why in the fuck should he bother it?

  No. He was trying to figure out his weird life. Any piece of information was a clue.

  Jack went forward. He wasn’t going to climb into the dumpster, but there was a low cement wall around the trash can. He didn’t spend that much time in the gym, but he was in good enough shape to scramble up onto the wall to get a look inside.

  If his first demon had been Horns, this thing was Mouth. It was a huge mouth with big teeth and a red tongue that was covered in a yellow film. That tongue was licking the edges of the dumpster, getting the filth inside. Around the mouth was pink diseased skin, full of pimples and pus. It was licking the dumpster, but it was also eating the garbage there, though eating probably wasn’t the right word. It would gulp down a big chunk of wilted lettuce or congealing gravy, and close its mouth for a minute. Then it would spit it back out, more wilted, more congealed. It was like watching decay in action.

  Jack stood on the low wall, blinking. The Mouth monster made him want to puke. He made a disgusted noise.

  That was a mistake. The Mouth turned toward him and flung out its tongue.

  Jack’s reflexes were working that night. He leapt down, hitting the asphalt but keeping his feet.

  Mouth came rolling out of the dumpsters, rolling like a ball, because basically it was a ball with teeth and a tongue.

  Jack figured he had one shot. He had to make it count.

  The Mouth came to a stop and opened its mouth, and the tongue whipped at him.

  Jack didn’t dodge it. But he did aim and fire, right into the thing’s uvula—that’s the punching-bag thing at the back of someone’s throat.

  His bullet hit the uvula.

  The tongue hit Jack. Not only did it smell like dumpster muck, but it was slimy, and Jack’s coat was drenched. His skin felt like it was on fire and his heart hurt. The piercing pain in his chest made him gasp.

  He backed up, stripping off his coat, stripping off his shirt, a
nd dropping them along with his shoulder holster onto the asphalt.

  The piercing pain went from his chest up into his head. It was so bad he dropped to his knees, clutching his skull.

  He’d taken a hit.

  But the Mouth was dying. The diseased pink ball had turned black and was becoming sludge right on the parking lot asphalt. The tongue lashed out from the puddle of goo, but that too was liquefying. The Mouth screamed and screamed, but those cries got softer and softer, like someone yelling from a car window as it drove away.

  Before long, the tongue was gone, and the teeth turned to dust in the puddle.

  Jack felt the energy from the monster fill him. As it died, he was somehow drinking in its power. The pain from the tongue was gone, his headache was gone, and it was like his mind and soul were growing more powerful.

  He was on his feet, arms back, his gun in his hand, nearly laughing from the power he felt. He felt not just great; he felt invincible. It was like the best bump of cocaine of his life...not that he did cocaine anymore. That shit was dangerous. But he’d had some wild times in his youth, and this was better. He’d quit the coke forever, though, because he’d been paranoid about dropping a hot UA in the police cadet program. Maybe that was part of why Tarrington’s coked-up face had pissed him off so much.

  His mind felt clear, the pain was all gone, and he looked down. He’d had a rash on his chest from where the tongue had hit him, but that rash slowly turned back into pale skin.

  Then Jack smelled the spicy musk of the lady in red. Her voice broke through the silence. “Do you generally stand shirtless in parking lots?”

  He spun. She wasn’t there. No, she stood by the yellow bus in front of the Health Power gym.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “I want to talk with you!”

  She laughed and yelled back. “Then come and get me, mystery man. If you have the fucking balls.”

  She turned and walked through the doors of the gym, shaking her ass and hips all the way.

  Jack stuck his pistol into the back of his pants. He tossed on his shirt and coat and stuffed the holster and gun into a pocket. He hurried forward, crossing the parking lot and pushing his way through the doors.

  The gym had a fair amount of people frozen in time. There were a few guys doing bench presses in the heavy weights section and a couple of women on the ellipticals. Some heavy guy was working up a sweat on a stationary bicycle. The teenager behind the counter was stuck with a bored expression on her face.

  None of the tall women from the bus were in the main part of the gym.

  The lady in red stood at the entrance to the women’s locker room. She had a smirk on her face. She laughed and walked into the women’s locker room.

  Jack laughed as well. After all the shit his mom and aunt had given him, he was going into the women’s locker room for the most righteous reasons in the world. “Feels like fucking fate to me.”

  He strode through the frozen gym and right into the entrance of the women’s bathroom—that had to be where the team of women was, probably all showering.

  Well, Jack had to talk with the lady in red, and she’d just set the rules of engagement.

  Chapter Seven

  JACK WALKED INTO THE women’s locker room of the Health Power gym. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what went on in there, and, yeah, this was his gym, and it was surreal to go right in. At first, it was just like the men’s side, until he saw the vending machines on the wall selling feminine products. Okay, that was new. And there were no urinals.

  Laughter echoed from the shower. “You didn’t think I’d be out there, did you, mystery man?”

  “I’m the mystery?” Jack shook his head.

  “You are, fucker,” the lady in red’s voice was full of smiles. “Or are you a fucker? I can’t read your shit, and I can read everyone’s shit. Come on, mystery man. Come into the shower where the action is.”

  “Actually, my name is Jack.”

  “Like I care about your name. Are you coming or not?”

  Jack didn’t have a choice, though getting forced into the women’s showers seemed like a perk rather than a hardship. Unlike Mouth and Horns, the lady in red seemed like she wanted to talk to him. She might explain some of the whacked-out crap he’d been experiencing. Jack was ready with his gun, though. That just made good sense.

  Jack walked into the women’s shower. It was full of the tall women he’d seen in the parking lot getting out of the bus.

  The air was misty, but unlike in the normal flow of time, the mist didn’t swirl or disperse. It filled the air, each particle hanging suspended. The water droplets gushing out of the showerheads hung motionless, trapped in time.

  A dozen or so women stood in the shower, some soapy, some washing their hair, some caught in mid-laugh or mid-sentence. He took in their faces first. Some were beautiful and wet and sculpted, and some were cute in a downhome way, and some had overly large noses, or acne scars, or weird ears, but still, something about a naked woman made their features interesting rather than ugly. Each woman shone with beauty in her own way.

  His eyes went down to a huge variety of breasts, from pert tits with upturned nipples to big saggy jugs to women with only just nipples. Which brought up the subject of nipples. Big wide pools of pink flesh, puffy areolas, inverted nipples, tiny nipples, big nipples, all kinds. And then the myriad of pussies. You had your shaved snatches, your wizard sleeves, your sleek, tucked-in lips, or your big clits peeking out from between smooth thighs. Asses were dimpled, saggy, flat, rounded, slightly spread, or closed up tight. Then there were the hips and the legs, all kinds, though these women were obviously athletes, so even the chubbier ones still had the hint of muscle.

  Jack got hard. End of story. He was suddenly overcome by how natural they looked, how wonderful, and damn it all to hell, sometimes being a man who loved looking at women was the best fucking thing in the world.

  After the initial shock of seeing a dozen lovely women in the shower, he saw his quarry. Standing near a tall brunette with a big ass was the lady in the red. Her inky hair sparkled with moisture. Her makeup was also a little smeary, and her dress had gotten wet and stuck to her skin. Big nipples stood on her chest, poking through her dress. At first, she was just a woman in a dress and black come-fuck-me heels in the shower. Then Jack noticed the horns, sharp and black, rising from her forehead. Then he saw the tail—there must’ve been a slit in the back of that dress because she had an arrow-headed tail. Had it been a spike before? He thought so. Maybe it was customizable.

  She wasn’t human, this lady in red. She looked like the devil herself.

  She grinned. Her canines were long and pointed. “And here the mystery man is. I thought you might be too much of a prude to follow me in here. Normally, I’d know if you were a perv or a prude, but not you, mystery man. Can’t read you.” She stretched, showing off her tits and hips and ass, right there. When her hands came down, she cupped her tits, then pinched her nipples. “Fuck, I love having a body. With the Tempus Influunt stopped, I can really feel it respond. You know what you’re doing is fucking evil and dangerous, right?”

  “And what am I doing?” he asked.

  The demon seductress put both her hands on the chunky ass of the woman in front of her. “This is Elaine. She thinks her ass is too big. She can’t really see it, but she thinks it’s too dimpled, a little dumpy, but she likes to wash it. You spend a little too much time washing your ass, Elaine. She gets off on it. If she wasn’t so dreadfully human, she’d have far fewer issues with her ass.”

  The demon blinked her eyes—one ice blue, one burning red—at Jack. “Do you like big, chunky asses, mystery man?”

  Jack laughed. “You didn’t answer my question. I’m not going to answer yours.”

  The woman in red sighed. “Stopping time. It’s dangerous. And illegal. In so many ways. And you’re going to get fucked here at some point. Until then, I’m going to enjoy it. I fucking love a good crime.”

  �
��Because you’re a demon?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, but he didn’t really expect her to answer.

  “Because you like big chunky asses?” She smiled. She turned to another woman, with darker skin and thinner hips, but a cute butt, wet with droplets. The lady in red wiped some of the water off and then licked her fingers. “This is Angelica. She likes to get rough with guys. She likes to slap them right before she comes. Oh, Angelica, you are a dominant bitch, aren’t you? I’d let you slap me. But look at this ass? Now I don’t care who you fucking are, but this is a perfect ass.”

  The lady in red pulled apart the woman’s ass cheeks to show the treasures underneath.

  Jack frowned. “When I touch people, time starts again. Why do you get to do it?”

  “Our little question game is fun, mystery man, but I want the answer on the kind of asses you like. Or are you a tit man?”

  That was too good of a setup. Jack smiled. “I love tits, but I must be an ass man. My friends are always saying, ‘You’re an ass, man.’”

  That made the lady in red roll her eyes. Both colors.

  “Fine. Yes. I like women’s asses,” Jack said. “Big ones, small ones, I’m in for them all. I’m basically just happy to be fucking when I do get a piece.”

  “Desperate?” She let go of Angelica’s butt. “You’re not going to answer that, and you don’t need to. So you like women. Good. I like women too. If I get a horny woman, I can eat for days, because women burn slow. Men get hard, fuck, and come. Yeah, I get a little snack, but it’s not like with women.”

  “So you’re a succubus?”

  “Suck the best!” the lady in red cackled. She crossed to a thin blond woman and caressed her breast. “This is Hayley. She’s an exhibitionist. Her fantasies are mostly of faceless men watching her undress. Sometimes, though, she likes to fantasize about older women watching. She has these delicious thoughts, this wonderful lust, and I get to eat it up. I don’t eat the Kairos. That’s what the Fugs do.”