Cataclysm Epoch (The Valkyrie Chronicles Book 1)

by Paul Heingarten

  I leaped into a large clump of bushes near a building, and hoped whatever was in my eyes wore off soon. Damn, this crap stung! We could've used some of whatever this was back in 3192.

  Next stop for me was that Fleur De Lis location. I only hoped I still had time.

  Chapter 20 (Nelson)

  I t was the day after Ana vanished from PJ's, and I hadn't heard anymore from her or got any further messages. Maybe she had had her fill. That suited me fine. I made more interview rounds and was more than ready for a few drinks. I strolled down Decatur near the Jax Brewery early afternoon when a text from Harvey buzzed on my phone.

  ------

  What's the name of that chick you hooked up with?

  ------

  Alright, he asked me for the name of a booty call? Maybe he needed some drinks himself, or a nice long weekend on the gulf coast at Beau Rivage.

  ----

  Tina, why?

  ___

  No response came for a few minutes. I almost texted him back when he replied again.

  ------

  Check the local news on TV

  ------

  I ducked into the lobby of Bienville House hotel. The bright creamy yellow interior and posters of Jazz Fests gone by made me feel a little like I was out of town, but here for a visit.

  A couple inside lounged on two lobby chairs and thumbed through brochures, in a debate over which tourist trap was the most suitable for their next jaunt.

  The TV was on at the end of the narrow lobby. I breezed past the engrossed tourists and flipped to a newscast.

  When I saw it, I felt the room sway and spin. Or that was just my head. I blinked several times, but the image on screen stayed the same.

  There were pictures of Tina, and her apartment complex. The graphic on the screen read, “Local girl found dead in apartment.”

  I leaned on a chair back and watched the news for a few minutes. The couple with the brochures glanced up at me for a second before they returned to their tourist shopping.

  According to the reporter, there wasn't a suspect yet, but a few people in the complex were around when Tina's body was found. I watched the story almost like it was a movie. But, I knew the victim. Worse yet, I had been with her a few hours earlier.

  When they showed a police sketch of the victim, my gut about burst. Wouldn't be tough to have convinced someone the sketch looked a lot like me. I felt sick. I shielded my face and called Harvey as I walked back outside.

  “Hey man, you see it?”

  A car horn blared on the street next to me and I almost dropped my phone. “Yeah,” I groaned. “Unreal.”

  My head throbbed. I strolled down Decatur and made contact with no one, and Harvey did his best with me. “She ever give any hints about being in trouble?”

  “Naah, none. Course, we weren't exactly having deep life conversations either.”

  “Could be a pimp thing?”

  A motorcycle thundered past and I jumped a foot off the ground. “Um, I think I'd know by now if she was a hooker.”

  Harvey said nothing for a bit. “Nelson, what really happened with you and her?”

  “Dude, we had sex. That's it, alright? I left, and she was fine. That's everything I know.”

  “Alright, alright, I believe you.” He paused again, then added, “You still watching TV?”

  “Naah, I ditched. They still talking about it?”

  “No, but they did the usual. Crimestoppers reward for info and all that. Didn't name a suspect yet. So whatcha gonna do?”

  “Working on it,” I said. I brushed past a large person who came the other way. I glanced back and said, “Sorry,” and caught their irritated look. Keep walking, Nelson, they're some random person. Focus. One reality sandwich, hold the paranoia, please. “I should go in, talk with them, right? I don't have anything to hide, I didn't do it.”

  “Call them up, cooperate. Good.”

  “Yeah, but from home. I mean if they want me to come down, fingerprints or something, I'll do it. But why should they, right?”

  “Don’t know what they'll do, man, but you're cooperating, that's gotta look better for you.”

  #

  I hopped back in my car and sped home before anything else happened. Still shook me to the core to think I may actually be considered as a murder suspect. First things first, that had to be cleared up.

  I slumped on the couch with the phone. It took a few rings before NOPD answered. I heard a bit of commotion on the other end, then a raspy voice stabbed through the din.

  "Sixth Precinct, Sergeant Daughtry."

  “Hi, I'm, calling about the, uh, girl on the news?”

  "You mean Tina Guirard?"

  “Yeah, that's right.”

  "What about her?"

  I swallowed hard. “I was with her the night before she died.”

  They paused. "What's your name?"

  “Nelson Forrester.”

  "Where you located?"

  “The Marigny, Esplanade Avenue.”

  "You wish to make a statement in this matter?"

  “Yeah, I wanted to tell someone there-”

  "-hold please."

  The background chatter and the voice cut out while I was transferred. A few more seconds and another voice, a smoother one, came on the line. "Homicide, Detective Costello speaking."

  “Hi, I’m Nelson Forrester, and I was with Tina Guirard the night before she was murdered.”

  I heard what sounded like papers shuffled around a bit. "OK, let's get a little information from you first. We're doing our investigation and may call you to come in if necessary." He coughed a bit and cleared his throat. "Alright, how did you know the victim?"

  I shifted a bit in my seat. “It was more or less a physical thing.”

  "Physical?"

  “Yeah, you know, hooking up?”

  "Mmmhm," he replied. "How long were you acquainted?"

  My mind spun out of control for the answer to that. And how much had we known each other, from drinks together and some hook ups after just over a month?

  Then there was the way he asked it. I felt more like I had become their suspect and not someone who wanted the air cleared. I leaned back on the couch. “Little more than a month?”

  The questions went on from there. The more he talked, the less relieved I felt. I really doubted this did any good for me. We ended the call, and I flipped on my iPod deck for a few minutes when the phone rang again. I figured Harvey wanted an update on how it went with the cops. “Hey man, I called the cops.”

  A surprised voice, which wasn’t Harvey, replied, “Um, Mr. Forrester?”

  “Oh, yeah? I'm sorry, who's this?”

  “It's James Bruel from Blazier Funeral home.”

  I sighed deep and sat up. “Wow, hi. You're the last person I expected to hear from right now.”

  Bruel chuckled a bit. “I bet. It's funny, I should've mentioned this when I saw you in PJ's the other day, but it was so unexpected. We need you to stop by our office, I’m afraid.”

  I sat up. “I see.”

  “Yes, there’s been a billing mix-up for your mother’s funeral and your family is owed a slight refund of overpayment.”

  Chapter 21 (Nelson)

  B ruel greeted me inside the front entrance to Blazier Funeral Home. The building was empty except for us. Maybe I still reeled about Tina's death, or it was Bruel’s manner in general, but all of a sudden I felt like this was the last place I should’ve been. I never thought of a funeral home as a comedy fest, but something didn't set right with me.

  Most of the inside was dark. The only lights on were a few at the front and in the hallway. Also, Bruel was almost too glad I was there, someone he owed a refund to on a funeral plan. What if he friended me on Facebook next or showed me pictures of his coffin collection?

  “Mr. Forrester, thank you so much for coming. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

  I nodded hello and glanced past him into the hallway. “Staff on strike?”

&nbs
p; He managed a modest chuckle. “Oh, we had a training session today, finished up a bit early.”

  I motioned down the hall. “Let's finish this.”

  “Of course.” When we got to his office, he pointed me to a chair in front of his desk. Once we both sat, he stared at me for a bit.

  “What?” I asked. “I need to sign something or what?”

  He regarded me for another moment. “Mr. Forrester, may I call you Nelson?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Nelson, I'm going to level with you. I'm not just a funeral director. You might say I have a part time job on the side.”

  “Uh, alright?”

  He looked deep into my eyes a little too deep, like a detective at an interrogation. About what, I hadn’t the slightest idea.

  “Just what are you getting at?”

  “See, I knew you'd wonder. I mean, who wouldn't, right? Besides, anyone with your talent for writing would suspect anyone coming at them from a mile away.”

  A sharp pang hit my gut, and I shifted in my seat. “How do you know I write?”

  “Ahh Nelson, I know a lot about you.” With that, he placed what looked like two bracelets on the desk. “Tell me, in the past week or so, has anything odd happened to you?”

  “Odd in what way?”

  Bruel pondered his answer. “Have you met anyone that came off a bit strange to you?”

  I saw her face as he asked the question. I almost said her name. But I stopped, and instead, I answered, “It’s New Orleans; there’s odd people all over.”

  He responded with a laugh that couldn’t have been more fake if he were a morning TV news personality. He smiled, but that quickly faded to a frown. He studied me for what seemed like ten minutes. Finally, he said, “What if I told you I know what happened to Tina?”

  My gut tightened.

  “Who?”

  His frown deepened. “Mr. Forrester, I think we'd both do each other a great service if we don't beat around the bush. The girl, Tina, of your acquaintance. I know what happened to her.”

  My throat tensed. “Did you kill her?”

  “Of course not. But,” he leaned back in his chair, “I don't think I need to tell you who did.”

  I thought about how much she pleaded with me. She was so desperate. No, she couldn't have - or...

  Bruel’s lips curled in a triumphant smirk. “What did she tell you?”

  “About my book. The future. Me in a lot of danger.”

  “You're lucky you got away from her alive.” His eyebrows arched.

  “She wanted me to travel with her, in time.”

  He twirled one bracelet around a finger. “I don't know how you managed to get away from the likes of her but I'm here to tell you, she's dangerous.”

  “So those messages on my phone were you?”

  He blinked. “Guilty. It wasn't my intent to alarm you. Warning someone in these circumstances takes a little finesse. I'm sorry if I went overboard.” He offered that TV news smile again, which made me cringe all the more.

  I was two seconds from making a break for it. I stood up, and he said, “And I apologize for the charade in having you come here, but I'm afraid you’re going with me.”

  “What, why?”

  “You're in danger, but the truth is it's from Ana. Nelson, I know this is very difficult, but what you've heard about the future, I'm afraid it's correct.”

  My face felt like it burst into flames. “So you've seen my - copies of my-”

  “-Cataclysm Epoch. Yes, and I'm familiar with Xander.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. The dizziness I felt when I was with Tina returned, and it was ten times worse this time. I clutched my head and sucked for air. I felt like the target of a massive manhunt for something I was wrongly accused of. What is even happening? Have I lost it? Does anything even matter anymore? I wrote a damn book. That was it. Fiction. How was any of this real? Wake up, Nelson, wake up!

  I thrust my hands up. “What can I possibly do? I have no control over any of this!”

  Bruel eased himself closer. “You're wrong. Please, come with me. Let me show you what you - who you really are.”

  “Ana said you wanted to kill me.”

  He winced, his eyes oozing sympathy. “Nelson, I was sent to protect you and bring you to the future where you can be safe.”

  I glanced to the door. “What if I take off, leave town or something?”

  “Won't do any good, they'll track you. You'll be found. There’s also a good chance she’ll get your father.”

  “What?”

  “Look how I found you; think she isn’t that resourceful too?”

  “Seems more of a risk, going with you.”

  “You're smart, and I understand your reservations.” He still smiled, but now his hand kneaded my shoulder a bit, the pressure making my shoulder ache. I leaned away from him but he held me in place.

  First the messages, then Ana, now this? “I'm sorry, no. Please leave me alone.”

  He glanced downward and sighed. “Nelson, this is your purpose.” He shook me, as if the idea would've sunk in better that way. His grip was taut, a slow and steady throb built in my arms.

  My eyes returned to the door. I'd have been through it by now if he hadn’t clutched me like this. I whipped my arm around and broke his grasp. I strode to the door and said, “I don't know what's happening, or who you think you are, but I'm never leaving-”

  A dull thud on the back of my head knocked me down, and the room went dark.

  Chapter 22 (Nelson)

  A sharp throbbing in my head woke me up. I blinked, but everything was blurry. I lay on something that felt like a mattress. I tried a stretch, but my hands were held fast.

  Shackles?

  When I called out, my throat seared with a burn so strong I coughed out of control for a few seconds. It felt like I'd drank a gallon of Drano.

  After a few minutes, I managed a very raspy “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Anyone hear me?”

  The room came a bit more into focus. A cabinet with lots of drawers in one corner. A light overhead that was shut off. It looked like some kind of doctor's office. Who knew where?

  Or when

  Bruel entered and stood before me. The room exploded in light that made my eyes burn almost as bad as my throat. He glanced behind me and tapped on a panel on the wall, which responded with a series of beeps. He checked me over as he said, “Nelson, I’m sorry, but you weren't listening to reason.”

  I tugged my hands against the restraints. “Was this really necessary?”

  He nodded. “Afraid so. We were in a hurry and I wanted to be safe.”

  “Yeah, alright.” I groaned. My eyes still hadn’t focused yet. “Thanks for knocking me out. Really, helped a lot. I was hoping I'd have a splitting headache today, so great job.”

  He grabbed my shoulders while I struggled on the bed. “Soon, I hope you'll realize I'm trying to protect you.”

  “Shackling me is protecting me?”

  He studied me for a little while, held the bindings on my wrists and took a small gray device out. A few seconds later, the bindings snapped open. “Again, sorry. The Verge can be messy and I didn't want you hurting yourself.”

  I held my wrists. “Too late.” I reached for him, but he grasped my arms. “Nelson, don't make me knock you out again. You've come all this way-”

  “-to where?”

  His brow creased, and his mouth drew in a thin line. “3192.”

  The ache in my head deepened. “Just when I thought it was a bad dream.” I noticed something else on my wrist. It was probably there for awhile, I noticed it as the room became more or less in focus. One of the bracelets from his desk was now on my wrist, and my skin around it felt warm.

  “What's this?”

  “Your tether. It links to your actual time so you won't suffer displacement sickness.”

  It was smooth and metallic, and I saw no seams in it at all. The underside had a readout that
displayed the years 2014 and 3192, along with some other numbers.

  Bruel tapped the device. “This is your lifeline. Whatever you do, don't remove it.”

  “Why?”

  His smile faded. “You'll die.”

  I straightened up a bit. “Why am I here?”

  Bruel stepped back and leaned against the wall behind him. “Now Xander, as much as I’m sure you’ve heard about that by now, what we want is simple. We want you to discredit Ana Crucinal and the Action to our people.”

  “And just why would I do that for you, now that you’ve kidnapped me?”

  Bruel folded his arms. He glimpsed over me like he had forgotten to check for wounds. Then he asked, “Didn’t you ever ask yourself how I came to know so much about you or wonder how I happened to be working for the very same funeral parlor you and your father visited when you were making arrangements? My dear Nelson, I’ve been watching you for some time now. Putting in hours of useless effort at a job that ended up letting you go, never finding that purpose you wanted in life. And then, your novel – the little book that you told almost no one except for close family and a friend. The little book that happened to be the future in print centuries later. If that’s not proof of your purpose and why we need you here, I don’t know what to say.”

  I had no response for that. I had made my mark on the world, just not the way I hoped. I’d have been glad with a sports car or two, living comfortable and all. But the feeling of this place and me, somehow tied together, was a lot to take. Maybe I had found what I was supposed to be doing after all this time.

  Bruel sat down at the foot of my bed. “Once you give us some time, you'll go back home.”