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by Brian Drinkwater


  Shoving Latisha toward the window, “Mark is a really nice guy. I’m sure he hasn’t even thought about that.”

  “Does he have a dick?”

  Shocked by her friend’s blunt humor.

  “I’m just saying. He’s thought about it.”

  “It’s not like that. He asked me to prom and that’s it. I’m not looking for any kind of relationship right now. I’ve got enough to deal with without throwing that into the mix.

  “I guess you’re right. He is kind of cute though, you know, for a nerdy guy. He’s probably already drawn you into one of those little comic thingies he does.”

  “I doubt he’s drawing me in anything,” she defended, starting to turn red.

  “The boy bought you and your unborn child a dress to prom. You’re right, he probably doesn’t have time to draw ‘cause he’s too busy digging the well in his basement. Just say no if he tells you to put the lotion in the basket. I’m just saying.”

  “Mark’s a nice guy. He’s just shy. I know he comes across as a bit awkward and weird but he means well.”

  “You’re gonna bang him.”

  “Whatever,” Katie dismissed her friend’s obviously obnoxious mood.

  “You at least gotta jerk him off.”

  “Jesus,” Katie gasped as she looked around at the surrounding eyes pretending not to stare.

  “What?” Latisha shrugged. “The boy did buy you a dress after all.”

  Katie just smiled uncomfortably.

  “Ah, ah. You won’t fit here,” Latisha stopped a new passenger from joining them. “Can’t you see the bitch is big as a house?”

  Again, Katie shoved her friend against the window.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Slipping past the slatted guard, a beam of morning sun pounded at Derek’s eyelids, demanding entry. Though he couldn’t remember much at all of the previous night, he did recall a lot of spinning and the unpleasant desire to hurl. That combined with vague memories of a dream involving a psychotic Jason and something to do with Bethany and blood and the time machine, he preferred to keep his eyes shut but sensing that he wasn’t currently lying in his bed, he slowly parted his lids.

  Much like his room, the white, popcorn style ceiling overhead greeted him to the new day and he began to feel better.

  “There you are.”

  “Jesus,” Derek shot up as a headache made its presence known.

  “Whoa, whoa. It’s okay.”

  Staring at the girl for a moment, trying to regain his focus, “Sarah?”

  “Yes.”

  “What? Where? I...,” Derek struggled to figure out what was going on just as the details of the previous night began to return. It wasn’t a dream. It was all real; the blood, Jason, the machine, Bethany...oh Jesus Bethany, he lowered his head into his hands.

  “I think you took something. You were pretty messed up.”

  “I didn’t take it,” Derek mumbled through his palms.

  “Did someone do this to you?”

  Derek just nodded.

  “Who?”

  “What happened? How could he...? Why?” Derek mumbled his thoughts as more memories slowly returned. He remembered something about Jason’s grandmother and his family. Something about Jason committing suicide or not. It was all still fuzzy. He did remember a dream about the party and the dildo and hiding in the closet and waking up to find Sarah dead on the coffee table. Needing to confirm that she truly was sitting beside him, he slowly parted his fingers and turned toward her.

  “Hi,” Sarah greeted him confused.

  “I told you you should have left him outside,” Reyna uttered an “I told you so” from the kitchen table before shoveling another spoonful of cheerios into her mouth.

  “Who the hell is that?” Derek dropped his hands from his face to locate the second mystery voice.

  “That’s my roommate, Reyna.”

  Reyna issued a half hearted wave.

  “She wanted to pepper spray and stab you last night,” Sarah joked.

  “Still do,” Reyna replied.

  “Don’t mind her. How do you feel?”

  “My head’s killing me,” Derek grabbed his head again.

  “That’s just the drugs wearing off. I’d give you some aspirin but I don’t want to add to whatever concoction you already have flowing around in there.”

  “That’s alright. I’ve had enough drugs for one night.”

  “Junkie,” Reyna muttered before taking another bite.

  “R,” Sarah scolded.

  “No, its alright. I know how it looks, but I didn’t do this.”

  “Who did? It wasn’t that guy from the restaurant yesterday, was it?” Sarah almost laughed at the ridiculous thought.

  Derek just nodded.

  “Oh. Why?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Derek almost laughed himself at the insane details of the previous night as he slowly got to his feet.

  “You should sit,” Sarah protested.

  “I’m okay. You should be safe now.”

  “Safe?”

  Derek froze trying to come up with an explanation.

  “I mean...I should be fine now.”

  “When you showed up last night you kept asking if I was safe and if he was here. Did you mean him? Why would he come here?” Sarah grew concerned as did Reyna, reaching for the knife which she’d laid on the table beside the bowl.

  “No. You’re fine. I was just messed up is all. That shit did a real number on me. I must have been nearby, and in my altered state, looking for a familiar face is all.”

  “But how did you know where I lived?”

  “Google,” Derek nonchalantly replied.

  “What’s...Google,” Sarah asked confused.

  “It’s a...it’s a...phone book. At the pay-phone the cover said Google or something. Anyway, everything should be fine by now so I should get going,” Derek insisted as he unsteadily made his way toward the door.

  “By now?” Sarah continued the questions.

  “Will you let him leave already,” Reyna snapped from the table.

  “I really am sorry to disturb you like this,” Derek apologized as he struggled with the door.”

  Reaching in, Sarah unlatched the door and pulled it open.

  “Thanks,” Derek smiled.

  “Oh, wait,” Sarah quickly turned, running to the kitchen to retrieve the lab coat and his wallet. “These are yours.”

  “That’s yours,” Derek insisted, pointed at the coat. “And that...?” he pointed at the wallet.

  “You were holding the coat in one hand and your wallet in the other when you showed up last night. I hope you don’t mind that I looked inside. I was looking for a phone number of someone that I could contact for you. I think you were robbed.”

  Taking the wallet from Sarah’s hand, he flipped it open to reveal that everything had been removed. They’d taken all of his cash, his IDs, his credit cards. They’d even stolen his old library card to the town library back in Cannon.

  “You might want to cancel your credit cards before they use them,” Sarah suggested with a sympathetic grin.

  “I’d like to see their face when they try,” Derek smiled, knowing that, technically, the cards hadn’t even been issued yet.

  Sarah just appeared more confused.

  Holding the wallet up, “Thank you. For everything. Really.”

  “You should really sit—”

  “—Sarah,” Reyna interjected.

  “It’s alright. I appreciate it. Really.”

  Sarah just smiled.

  “And thank you for not stabbing me,” Derek peeked around Sarah to see Reyna.

  “Don’t forget about the pepper spray,” Sarah whispered.

  “And for not blinding me,” Derek added.

  “Don’t mention it,” Reyna nodded.

  “Thanks again.”

  And with that Derek left, closing the door behind him.

  “Are you crazy?” Reyna whined as Sarah join
ed her at the table. “That boy had serial killer written all over him.”

  “No. He seemed nice,” Sarah disagreed, looking down at the white coat in her hand.

  “Nice, huh,” Reyna raised a brow.

  “What?” Sarah smiled.

  “Well if he comes back, I’m gonna go Freddy Kruger on his ass.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Descending the short brick stairs to the sidewalk in front of Sarah’s apartment, Derek paused, looking up and down the street at the familiar, yet oddly different scenery. Obviously the drugs had done a real number on his system last night since he hadn’t really put together where he was. While the street itself was unfamiliar, the area wasn’t. His dorm was actually only a couple of blocks to the north or at least it would be in about eighteen years and while familiar, everything seemed just a little bit off. While the eighties were still struggling to make a comeback in 2014, the opposite seemed true in 1991. Now they appeared to be struggling just to hold on as a darker, more drab sense of style seemed to be working its way into the closets of the busy residents making their way up and down the sidewalks.

  Testing a theory, “Nirvana rules!” Derek blurted to a passing twenty something dressed in a ratty old, Mr. Rogers style sweater.

  “Hell yeah,” the kid responded enthusiastically as he threw his hand into the air for a passing high five.

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, Derek considered. Though he’d spent his teen years in the mish-mosh of styles and trends that was the early two-thousands, he’d always had a special fondness for the nineties. Probably the result of growing up in a house where his mother was always playing Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, and of course, Nirvana. His young mind couldn’t help but absorb those depressingly, angst filled musical poems. Continuing to look around, it was amazing that anyone made it out of this decade without blowing their brains out.

  Realizing that Sarah and her potentially homicidal roommate could be watching him from the windows above, Derek stepped away from the stairs and started down the street. He didn’t know where he was going. Where could he go? Jason had stranded him and taken the machine back to the future with him. His only hope was that Jason might have a change of heart and come back for him but with the limited twelve hour window already come and gone, his continued presence in this time was evidence enough that Jason wasn’t coming back.

  Checking for traffic, Derek jogged across the street and into a small park.

  He could rebuild the machine he thought, quickly realizing how futile that effort would be. It wasn’t the machine that was special. All that work. All those hundreds of hours building and testing and problem solving and for what? He’d basically built a twenty pound spark plug in a briefcase. Without Jason’s blood, there was no hope of ever returning home. He couldn’t go home to his parents. Hell, he wasn’t even due to be born for another six months. If he showed up on his parents’ doorstep claiming to be their stranded son from the future, one of two things would happen; his pregnant mother would either laugh him off the front steps or miscarry, bringing a definitive end to his dismal situation.

  Taking a seat on one of the wooden benches, which lined a long winding jogging path, Derek just leaned back in defeat and turned his gaze skyward. Not overly religious, though not without faith either, he figured the only hope he had left was with the man upstairs, but since his soul was being occupied by an unborn fetus in this time he wondered if God would even be able to hear his prayers.

  “What are we looking at?”

  Startled, Derek returned his gaze earthward to find Sarah standing in front of him, staring up at the same patch of cloudless morning sky.

  “First you show up at my restaurant and then my apartment and now I find you sitting on my bench,” she met his eyes with a smile.

  “Are you following me?”

  “I should ask the same thing. You mind,” she motioned to the bench.

  Hesitantly, he slid over as she took a seat beside him.

  “What are you doing here?” Derek rephrased the question.

  “I told you, this is my bench.”

  Derek just stared at her.

  “Okay, yes I’m following you. I didn’t even bother to get fully dressed for fear you’d get too far away,” she glanced down at her fuzzy blue pajama pants covered in tiny bananas.

  “Why?”

  “Let’s just say that curiosity is sort of a problem for me. I don’t like leaving things unresolved. I like closure and right now you’re a big open ended mystery to me. Yesterday you showed up at the restaurant, delaying me and claiming that you could get me a new lab coat in time for my next class, which I missed by the way.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Then you show up at my door, beat to hell and completely wasted, asking me if I’m alright and if your obnoxious friend is there before passing out and mumbling in your sleep not to call the cops,” she continued. “Then, this morning you wake up and rush out of my apartment but not before implying that I was somehow in danger but for some reason am now completely safe. If you ask me, I would be completely insane not to be curious.”

  Derek didn’t know how to respond to the admittedly odd string of events. The truth wouldn’t bring her the closure she sought. It would only add more questions. Staring into her awaiting gaze he did the only thing he could think of...deflect. “Aren’t you worried that I’m some sort of mass murderer or something?”

  “Are you?”

  “Well, no but—”

  “—Then that’s good enough for me,” she happily accepted.

  Puzzled, Derek just stared.

  “Listen, if I thought you were going to kill me I wouldn’t have let you into the apartment last night. I don’t take you as the murdering type.”

  Derek just continued to stare.

  “And if I’m wrong, I still think I’m safe because, in your unconscious stupor last night, you sought me out for help which means you probably look at me as more of a friend than a potential victim.”

  “We don’t even know each other. How could we be friends already?”

  “Something also tells me that you’re the type who makes everyone your friend...especially the ladies.”

  “Jesus,” he thought. Did he have player written across his forehead? “I don’t think your roommate shares the same opinion.”

  “Reyna? Don’t mind her. She’s just a little paranoid is all. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Derek smirked.

  “If she truly thought you were any danger, she never would have let me bring you inside.”

  “Isn’t she worried that you’re out here with me now?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, she’s probably hiding in one of the bushes as we speak, ready to jump out and gut you at any moment,” Sarah laughed.

  Derek didn’t share Sarah’s dark humor, as the image of her disemboweled body, sprawled across the coffee table, returned to mind.

  Realizing that her words had had an obviously negative effect on him, Sarah canned the smile. “So, how about that closure,” she placed the conversation back on track.

  “Huh?”

  “Let’s keep it simple by sticking to the truth,” Sarah’s playful tone faded as it became obvious that she truly did want and believed she deserved some sort of truthful explanation.

  Contemplating what might come from revealing the truth about his presence in her time, Derek recalled one of Jason’s rants about changing the past and jeopardizing the future, though this time it admittedly didn’t hold much relevance as his permanent present in this time had already severely compromised the time that followed. “What harm could there really be in letting one other person know the truth at this point?” he thought.

  Focusing his attention and meeting Sarah’s serious gaze with one of his own, “The truth?”

  “Nothing but,” Sarah leaned slightly closer in anticipation of his explanation.

  “Okay...well...”

  Raising her
eyebrows, as if telling him to quit stalling, she waited.

  “I’m from the future,” he blurted the simplest of explanations, awaiting the anticipated laughter. Instead, she continued to stare at him as if what he’d just said was completely normal and expected. “Okay,” he responded, puzzled by the lack of response. “Jason and I invented a time machine powered by what I thought was some sort of red, chemical concoction worked up by Jason but it turned out to be nothing more than his blood, which somehow has the ability to transport whoever’s in contact with it, through space and time. Well, when a friend and I discovered that it was blood, Jason flipped out, killed my friend, tried to frame me for her murder and then stranded me in the year 1991...this year...with no hope of ever returning to my time, which is the year 2014,” Derek finished his explanation with a much needed breath as he awaited Sarah’s response.

  Wrinkling her forehead, it was clear that she was trying to process the insanity that she’d just heard.

  “I know how it sounds,” Derek defended his story, realizing himself, for the first time, just how insane the whole situation sounded.

  Slowly, Sarah’s forehead smoothed and new wrinkles began to form around her mouth as the previously expected laughter finally arrived.

  “There it is,” Derek thought.

  “Time travel, huh?” She laughed.

  Derek just nodded seriously.

  “I knew you were an interesting guy,” Sarah continued her jovial response. “You seemed so smooth yet so frantic yesterday outside the restaurant. I wasn’t sure how to respond at the time but after you left I realized that you’d somehow managed to make all that stress that I’d been feeling at the time, just melt away.”

  Now Derek wore a look of confusion. What should have been a story that landed him in the looney bin was actually turning out to be his best pickup line ever.

  “You know, I waited over an hour for you to return? I don’t know why but I was actually disappointed when you didn’t.” Jumping to her feet, she stood in front of him. “Tell you what. You’re going to make it up to me tonight by taking me out to dinner and telling me who you really are.”

  Caught completely off guard by the flood of unexpected information, the only word he could muster was, “Okaaay”.

 

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