by Sean McMahon
‘Malcolm!’ he called again.
Both Kara and Malcolm ran down the hall to him.
‘What did you do, boy,’ growled Malcolm.
‘Settle down, Kratos, I didn't do anything.’
‘Hal,’ said Kara, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed, this Fir Lodge not feeling even remotely safe for them any longer. ‘What's behind that door?’
‘Erm, if I said like a hundred Time-Demons and/or vampires that can suck Restarter energy straight out of your body like you're a milkshake, would you freak on me?’
‘Are they alien looking things without faces that walk like stop-motion puppets?’
‘Wow,’ said Hal, surprised by her spot-on description. ‘That was oddly specific. Also, can we ban the use of the word “puppets”? You just made them sound way creepier than…wait? You've seen them too?!’
‘You could say that,’ said Kara, taking a step back from the door to the right of the three of them, her voice shakier than he'd heard it in a while, as she pointed behind him.
He spun around, adjusting his grip on the door handle so as not to give the ghouls inside the chance to break out.
His fears were multiplied, as he was greeted by the spirit-crippling sight of hundreds of the creatures, each working their way towards the three time travellers, edging ever closer with inhuman, jerking movements across the artificial-snow-like grass.
‘Malcolm, I have a confession to make,’ said Hal.
‘You went insi–’
‘I went inside.’
‘Into the room I specifically told yo–’’
‘Told me not to go into, yeah.’
‘What do we do?!’ Kara’s voice was full of panic as she looked back up the corridor that led to the central staircase of the lodge, making sure they weren't about to get boxed in by the SWAT team from hell.
‘We run,’ said Malcolm. ‘Come with me if you want to live.’
ENO-YTRIHT RETPAHC
Street Fighters
R.I Timestamp Error: Recalculating…
System Error. Timestamp Failure.
Malcolm and the Restarters burst forth from the entrance doors of Fir Lodge, not having time to take in the fact that if they were they living in the 1950’s, that would have made for a great band name, and instead bolted between the cars on the driveway, reaching the connecting main road in a flash.
‘Which way do we go?’ said Kara, risking a glance over her shoulder and seeing the army of oily creatures caught in a bundle, trying to force their way past each other through the doors, the bottleneck granting the three of them a precious few seconds to think.
‘This way,’ barked Malcolm, choosing the path most travelled; the one that led them back towards Kevin’s lodge.
‘Okay, level with me,’ said Hal, matching Malcolm’s pace. ‘Was that a Terminator 2 reference back there, or just purely accidental?’
‘Focus,’ Malcolm grunted, his eyes darting around as if searching for something.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Kara.
‘A way out of the mess Harold has made. I warned you not to go in there!’
‘Are you kidding me right now?’ said Hal defensively. ‘Only in the most obtuse way possible! Why not just open with “Hey Harold. Don’t go in that room. It’s totally full of Time Vampires that want to kill you real good!”’
‘Where are you getting this Time Vampires thing from?’ said Kara
‘You wanna stop running and rename them?’
‘Fair point. Hard pass,’ she replied, noticing Malcolm had halted to a stop.
Hal and Kara, now a good ten strides away from him, turned to face the man.
Malcolm was frozen in place, as the sight of the temporally-challenged vampirically inclined beasts bounded towards them at a pace more akin to a gallop than a canter.
‘Erm, Malc, the Cullens are still chasing us!’ shouted Hal. ‘Why are we stopping?’
Malcolm pointed towards the glowing red fairy lights of a central nervous system floating between some trees less than one-hundred-yards-or-so in front of them.
‘That’s where we’re heading,’ said Malcolm. ‘We just need to grab onto him and–’
‘Roger that,’ said Hal, darting towards the light show.
‘Not yet,’ shouted Malcolm, grabbing Hal’s arm and nearly dislocating the Restarter’s shoulder in the process.
‘If ever there was a yet, now would be that time, Malcolm,’ said Kara, the gap between them and the vampiric demons decreasing at an alarming rate.
‘Do you want to emerge standing directly next to him,’ snapped Malcolm. ‘Losing the only advantage we have in the process?!’
‘If it’s a choice between us three versus one you,’ said Kara quickly, ‘and us versus all those Demogorgons, I choose the former!’
‘Aww, you watched it?’ said Hal.
‘Everybody has, Hal.’
‘Yeah, but still. You never watch anything I recommen–’
‘Will you both be quiet?!’ their incessant rambling making it incredibly difficult for Malcolm to focus. ‘We don’t have much time before it–’
The red energy disappeared in an instant, removing the choice from the table.
‘Damn you both,’ the killer shouted, despite it not really being anyone’s fault.
‘Where'd he go?!’
‘The timelines move in cycles, Kara,’ said Malcolm, trying desperately to decide on a course of action that wouldn’t result in them being killed. There was no telling what would happen if they died in this place. Or if they even could. He was testament to the fact that there were indeed fates far worse than the simplicity of death. ‘Come on, we need to keep moving.’
‘Cycles?’ repeated Hal, as they ran. ‘Tell me you don’t mean chronologically?!’
‘No,’ said Malcolm. ‘We will not have to wait the full 165 cycles. They're random. Some restarts last minutes here, others last hours…’ he added, clearly haunted by the memories of first-hand experience.
‘And those things?’ said Kara, as they all turned a sharp corner and reached a crossroads, coming face to face with another hoard of the creatures.
‘Bollocks,’ said Hal, ‘they’re bloody flanking us!’
Malcolm ordered them to move once again, and they set off down an alternate route, eventually reaching a fenced off area.
‘I have no idea what they are,’ said Malcolm, vaulting over the fence, with Kara following suit, leaving Hal to scramble frantically, unable to hoist himself over.
One of the wooden fence-panels blasted apart, sending Hal onto his back.
It took him a second to realise Malcolm had kicked a hole in the fence. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough for Hal to squeeze through, which he dutifully did. The splintered wood grazing against his cheeks as he slid himself between the panels, forcing him to direct his gaze back towards the oncoming hunting party.
Hal froze in fear, they were nearly on him.
It was over.
This really wasn’t the way he had hoped to go out; wedged between a fence, consumed by Time Vampires in the heart of a pocket dimension with a whole season of Jessica Jones sitting on his to-be-watched list.
He felt a surge of pain grip his shoulder as the blade-like fingertips dug into him, causing him to clench his jaw down hard as he was dragged from in-between the vertical stockade of Malcolm’s making.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the real pain to come, then opened them to see that Malcolm had pulled him through to the other side of the barrier, and to temporary safety.
‘Thanks,’ said Hal, as the monsters flew into the fence, clambering over each other in an attempt to reach the three time-travellers.
‘Don’t get sentimental,’ said Malcolm, extending a hand to help him up. ‘You’re no good to me dead.’
‘Sooo, should I cancel those Ed Sheeran tickets, orrr?’ said Hal, accepting the offer of the killer’s extended hand and returning to a less embarrassing, notably more upright plane of exi
stence.
Malcolm replied with an agitated grumble, and they set off through the large garden they now found themselves in.
*
As they ran past what appeared to be a game of badminton, Kara swiped at a levitating shuttlecock as if it were a bothersome fly.
‘Oh look, these guys have formed a badminton!’
Hal laughed, remembering their friend Jon’s ridiculous way of describing the particular sport.
His adrenaline-fuelled delirium was cut short as they reached the end of the garden and were greeted by yet another fence, made all the more unclimbable thanks to the ancient fir trees situated on the other side, forming an extra layer of un-traversable bullshit.
‘Fuck,’ said Kara.
‘Hey,’ said Hal, ‘think you can Hulk Smash through this one too?’
‘Unlikely,’ grumbled Malcolm.
‘Yeah, sun’s getting real low, to be fair.’
And then, like rock stars at their own gig who had foolishly decided to keep it real by using the regular, communal portable toilets at a festival, they found themselves boxed in and surrounded by their fans.
Unlike an aforementioned rock star, Hal pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it into the crowd before them, firing off a warning shot that hit one of the creatures square in the chest.
The pellet dissolved, as if melting amidst a pool of acid, fizzling away into a faint blue wisp. The Time Vampires however, remained entirely undeterred.
Hal huffed, resigned to the fact that things were about to get messy, and was about to say it was worth the literal shot, as one of the monsters squealed like a werewolf howling at an invisible moon, apparently giving the green light to his surrounding brethren that it was feeding time.
‘Well, at least it can’t get any worse,’ said Kara.
Their attention was drawn away from the hoard, thanks to the sound of a savage growl that made them flinch.
Guttural.
Feral.
Primal.
Standing there in the darkness at the side of a building to their right were two canine-esque beasts, hackles raised, chests heaving, and deformed jaws baring razor sharp teeth.
Hal and Kara shot a look towards Malcolm, who held an expression that seemed to waver between exhausted acceptance and resentful indignation.
‘Kara,’ said Hal, slapping his cheek with incredulity.
‘Yeah?’
‘You suck.’
‘Defend yourselves,’ muttered Malcolm, ripping of his apron and discarding it on the ground.
*
The three interlopers found themselves swarmed from all sides, from both humanoid and hell-hound varieties alike, as Kara felt countless hands clawing into her flesh, scraping trails of blue sparks along her skin.
‘How are we feeling this?!’ screeched Kara in agony.
‘I guess,’ growled Hal through gritted teeth as he wrestled with his own pain threshold. ‘The White Lodge is Krypton! And we ain’t so super here!’
The more energy the creatures drained from them, the more defined their features became, their once spoon-like faces now full of jagged teeth that bit into her, as the hollow, empty eye sockets stared back at her without fear or remorse, the central nervous systems of the beasts lighting up with a vibrant blue with every successful slice.
The chronologically-distorted vampires continued to leach the energy from the very cores of the three Restarters, ruthlessly drawing power from them, as if doing so would make them whole again and bring them to a state of existence closer to the three people invading their world. But with each slash of their sharp fingers, no matter how much power they successfully drained, the effects were merely temporary.
Once the transference of electricity had dissipated, the eerie blue glow that emanated from their frail forms vanished, and the creatures who had been fortunate enough to experience a mere taste of a universe beyond their own grew wilder, even more savage, like a candy crush addict who reasoned that their next attempt would truly free them from the current level they were trapped in, taking them to somewhere new and infinitely more rewarding.
‘Hal,’ shouted Kara, struggling to be heard over the horrific squealing and stabbing sounds.
‘Mmmhere,’ he said, his voice a mere muffle.
She could see his hand grasping at nothing amidst the swath of oily blackness that had engulfed them, and reached out for it.
‘Happy thoughts!’ she shouted, a crackle of energy surging between them as she made the connection.
And she closed her eyes, getting her zen on.
Images floated by in her mind’s eye; flashes of Greg, of her dogs. Her wonderful dogs. That super-cool Green Lantern ring she’d been after for years that she found on eBay and…that was the one. The thought that was not her own. A thought that meant she and Hal were entirely in tune.
She focused on that, allowing herself to drift into the memory, then opened her eyes, ready to hit the gas and unleash the thunder.
*
The garden was filled with the sight of flailing creatures, which were thrown into the air by the impact of Kara and Hal’s energy blast, freeing Malcolm from the humanoid beasts that were leaching away his consciousness, and the wolf-like monstrosities that were gnawing at his ankles.
He growled savagely, grabbing an oily attacker by its throat, the connection feeding the vampiric aberration with his dwindling reserves of red energy, revealing a snapping maw of human-like teeth.
Malcolm threw the creature aside and proceeded to unleash a beat down on the face of the next feral animal that felt lucky enough to try its luck, smashing his fists into the unfortunate face belonging to the lost soul of the damned.
Hal and Kara dragged themselves up, their eyes glowing with the slowly degrading shimmer of Restarter energy.
‘Hadouken!’ remarked Hal, dusting himself down.
‘Time to move,’ said Kara.
‘Umm, I’m not sure if he’s ready yet,’ said Hal, directing her attention towards Malcolm by throwing his thumb over his shoulder.
‘You,’ said Malcolm in-between brutal punches, ‘dare,’ he added, literally ripping an arm from one of the creature’s sockets, ‘touch’ definitely leaving a mark on another, ‘me?!’ he growled, his voice thunderous, seemingly refuelling his own brand of Restarter-sauce direct from the source.
‘I think you got him, Drago,’ said Hal, eager to create some distance between the reanimated corporeal cadavers that were already returning for another go, clearly being drawn by the seemingly rekindled energy the three of them had tapped into, like moths to a blowtorch.
Malcolm landed several more punches, then seemed to come to his senses, staring back towards the Restarters.
‘Reformed, huh?’ said Kara dryly.
Malcolm threw the creature that was frantically kicking its own legs, being held up by the killer’s unbreakable grasp, his eyes slowly returning from a fiery-red glow to his usual, equally-unsettling, murderous glare.
No words were needed, it was time to go.
With the entirety of the mob now contained within the garden they were occupying, they made their way back through the fence that was now unobstructed, the gap initially made by Malcolm now considerably wider thanks to the stampede created by their attackers.
They caught sight of a gliding shadow, one which was seemingly going about its business in another timeline entirely.
‘Hold onto me,’ said Malcolm, waiting for them to do so before he reached his hand out into what was little more than a glitching silhouette, as if he were fishing for something to latch onto.
Nine agonizing seconds later, like an expert lockpicker attempting to tumble the mechanism contained within a particularly dastardly padlock, he smiled darkly, then grabbed on harder to his quarry.
The creatures behind them were almost on them, and as one attempted to latch on to Kara’s shoulder she pulled herself closer to Malcolm out of instinct, wincing in expectation of the pain that would surely follow.
She clenched her eyes shut, as they were once more dragged back through the fields of time, to a place far away from The White Lodge. A world where neither the stench of decay, which bled from the bodies of forgotten souls, nor the guard dogs of the underworld could reach them.
Back, she hoped, into the light.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Gunslinger and The Locksmith
R.I Timestamp Recalibration Error:
Restart Unknown
Dazzled by the afternoon sun of whatever restart they were now occupying, the three time-travellers felt a distinct sensation of pressure as their bodies were ejected from the pocket dimension with a ferocity that implied wherever they had just been was truly glad to be rid of them.
They were greeted by the sight of a woman they had never seen before, who hummed an unfamiliar tune as she proceeded to discard a large black sack of rubbish into a wheelie bin which was camouflaged by a wooden enclosure, surrounded by thoughtfully planted hedges.
‘When are we?’ gasped Hal.
‘And where are we?’ added Kara, equally discombobulated.
Hal looked behind him and saw a familiar fence, once that had previously been kicked in by Malcolm, and made wider by the onslaught of hundreds of oily demons, but was now inexplicably repaired. “Because time travel, he thought, shaking his head slightly amidst a suitably awe-struck smile.
‘It is…difficult to say for certain,’ mumbled Malcolm.
‘You have no idea do you,’ said Hal, his words goading the killer into embracing the truth for once.
‘It’s not an exact science Harold,’ Malcolm replied gruffly, ‘unlike your petulance.’
‘I thought the plan was to lock-on to a particular version of you?’ said Kara.