The Dark Restarter

by Sean McMahon

  ‘Meaning Future Malcolm would what? Disappear?’ said Kara, well and truly getting it.

  ‘Yahtzee,’ said Hal, gulping down some lukewarm water.

  ‘So,’ said Fearne thoughtfully, ‘Our Malcolm vanishes. Then what?’

  ‘My best guess? Everything restarts again,’ said Hal. ‘His past-self will continue on with his plan, which in turn will lead to Future Malcolm coming back to stop him. With the added bonus of having potentially zero memory of his previous attempt, trapping them both in an infinity loop.’

  ‘Like the snake eating its own tail?’ said Peter.

  Hal shot-clucked his tongue, his hand shooting off an imaginary bullet of agreement.

  ‘So, it has to be us,’ said Kara. ‘We have to be the ones to stop all this.’

  ‘Which brings me to something I want to discuss,’ said Malcolm. ‘Even with the four of you, your chances of killing my past-self are…minimal.’

  ‘Woah there, Agent 47,’ said Hal, ‘no one said anything about killing anyone. Besides, that’s not even possible, we’re invincible here.’

  Malcolm hid his smirk perfectly. ‘Leaving him alive will allow him to continue his work. It’s too much of a ris–’

  ‘We’ll find another way,’ said Kara, her words simple, and clearly non-negotiable.

  ‘If we could capture him,’ reasoned Peter, ‘maybe we could try and convince him to work with us?’

  ‘That will never work,’ said Malcolm.

  ‘It might,’ said Fearne. ‘I mean, you’re working with us now…aren’t you?’ her words laced with an insinuation that he may have something to share. An agenda perhaps, indicating this was all for show.

  ‘This is different,’ said Malcolm. ‘I am not the same man now as I was back then. You don’t understand how he sees you.’

  ‘How does past-you see us?’ Hal straightened his posture, eager to gain some insight.

  ‘To him you are hapless children. Old enough to be extinguished, of course. A rat-catcher and his orange secretary–’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Kara. ‘Why am I the secretary? You sexist piece of shi–’

  ‘Settle down,’ said Malcolm. ‘I had no way of knowing your names, nor did I know you were wearing…costumes. I am many things, but when it comes to gender, I do not discriminate,’ he said darkly, sending a loaded smile towards Fearne, which caused her to shudder.

  Kara conceded, but still looked huffy.

  ‘Rat-catcher?’ asked Hal. ‘You’ve never seen Ghostbusters, I take it? Don’t you ever just take a “me day” and catch up on some movies? Pop the knives away, go for a nice walk, head to the beach?’

  ‘Do I look like a man that would be interested in such pursuits?’

  In truth, Malcolm had seen that film. He just preferred not to admit he’d missed such a simple detail. Given his line of work, that was what Millennials referred to as an “epic fail.”

  ‘You look like a man who could do with a good spa day to be honest,’ said Kara.

  ‘Regardless, it would be wise for us to prepare for some worst-case scenarios. I would be willing to train you.’

  ‘Train us in what?’ said Peter.

  ‘To survive, of course,’ said Malcolm. ‘More specifically, how to survive me.’

  The four Restarters looked at each other, the absurdity of the offer weighing heavily on top of the silence like a layer of congealing custard on an unrefrigerated trifle.

  ‘Why not,’ said Kara eventually. ‘And whilst you’re at it, you can show us how you fast-forward through a restart too.’

  Malcolm smiled as he stood up, and adopted a predator-like posture, reminding them all how tall he actually was, not to mention how imposing his presence could truly be when he switched it on.

  Each of them realising that if they ever did have a run in with the serial killer’s darker, Restarting-self, maybe running away would be their best, or perhaps only chance of survival.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Wax On, Wax Off

  Restart Unknown – Saturday, August 25th, 2018, 6:01pm

  After spending the lion’s share of their current restart sparring with Malcolm at the far end of the rear garden of Fir Lodge, Hal was reminded of the time he had attempted to learn to juggle. There were some skills his poor sense of coordination couldn’t assimilate, and fighting was clearly on that list.

  Hal had started their training with eager enthusiasm, dazzled by the prospect of learning how to defend himself. But, from the moment Malcolm had discarded his apron and rolled up his sleeves, the Restarter’s good mood had gradually been eradicated, as Malcolm laid a hefty beatdown on him, and once again he found himself face down in the dirt.

  ‘How do you fast-forward like that,’ said Hal, brushing off the non-adhering dust.

  Malcolm was taking great pleasure in displaying a rather delightful bonus to being able to travel forward in time within their existing restart. Every time Hal went to throw a punch, Malcolm would pop out of time, leaving Hal standing there, alone and confused, before arriving in Hal’s future, continuing his onslaught with savage efficiency. ‘How can I fight back if you keep jumping into the future?’ said Hal irritably. ‘It makes you near impossible to keep track of.

  ‘I just focus on when I want to be,’ said Malcolm. ‘And the world speeds up,’ he added for good measure, as if he were explaining his preferred method of making toast, and not spontaneously-activated teleportation via the medium of quantum-entangled wormholes. ‘I slow my breathing as I enter a point in time I want to occupy, and that period of time comes into focus, then I can pull myself back into phase with a fair amount of precision.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ grumbled Hal, ‘I can’t catch a Golden Snitch.’

  ‘I got that one!’ Kara squeaked happily. ‘Wicked fast? Damn near impossible to see!’

  ‘Nerd,’ joked Hal in fake beratement.

  ‘You know,’ said Kara, ‘I think...we did it once before, back before we knew what happened to us. We fast forwarded to the moment before our death.’

  ‘Hmm...’

  He remembered it well. It was the day they had truly seen the horrors that had befallen them, and the cause of what had sent them hurtling back into the past in the first place. ‘As well as that, we moved from Fir Lodge all the way to Kevin's in a heartbeat.’

  ‘There you are,’ said Malcolm. ‘At first, I could only move forward through time, never through space. I would always reappear in the same place I was previously occupying. But with practice…’

  Hal and Kara thought about that. They had learnt so much over the handful of months during their tenure as Restarters…but Malcolm had spent years here.

  Unbeknownst to one another, they felt a shared pang of concern over that.

  Over what else he was capable of…

  Hal nodded thoughtfully, before returning his focus back to the inevitability of constant failure.

  *

  ‘This is pointless,’ he said eventually, having just pulled himself up off the dirt for what felt like the millionth time. It felt a lot like Malcolm was focusing far less on actually training him, and far more on using the whole thing to beat ten tons of crap out of him.

  ‘It is only pointless, if you continue to whine and fail to learn what I’m teaching you!’ his tutor responded, equally frustrated. They needed to learn this. But at this rate it would take him years to bring Hal to a level where he could defend himself for longer than a split-second.

  ‘I don't remember Mr Miyagi being such a grumpy wanker,’ Hal jibed.

  ‘Well, perhaps this Miyagi you refer to had a better student.’

  Hal balked. ‘Seriously? Karate kid? You've seen The Karate Kid, right?’

  ‘I have not.’

  ‘Kara? Tell him, will you?’

  ‘I mean, I've seen it, but couldn't tell you any of their names,’ said Kara, sitting on a nearby log and gulping down some restarted water.

  ‘What is wrong with you pod-people?’ said Hal.


  ‘Pod people?’ questioned Kara, in a blatant attempt to wind him up further.

  ‘I hate you all.’

  ‘Again!’ demanded Malcolm.

  ‘I’m out, your turn Kar’,’ said Hal, nursing what felt considerably like a broken rib, despite the fact his body shouldn’t have been able to sustain actual damage.

  ‘We are not done,’ said Malcolm, refusing to let him duck out.

  ‘I feel done…’ said Hal, gingerly applying pressure to his ribs, which throbbed with a dull ache, reassuring him that he was perhaps merely imagining the pain.

  ‘He will approach you quickly,’ said Malcolm, pacing impatiently, eager to impart wisdom. ‘Without hesitation. His goal is to finish you before you have time to even begin fighting back. Do not try to reason with him, do not show mercy, and most importantly of all…and Harold, I’m talking directly to you here. Do. Not. Talk. To. Him.’

  ‘Why are you singling me out?’

  ‘Because, Harold, you like to act like you're in a movie, trading quips, whilst he will only be interested in trading successive blows of a blade to your flesh. Drop the ego, drop the flair. You must take this seriously. Your life will literally depend on it.’

  It was hard to take the man seriously, given that the makeshift blade he was currently brandishing for emphasis was actually a small, rubber flamingo.

  ‘Yeah, about that,’ said Peter. ‘You say past-you somehow managed to bring a knife back with him into the past?’

  ‘Just one,’ said Malcolm.

  During their training he had recounted to them all how, as his body had fallen to the floor after Hal and Kara’s handiwork, the back of his hand had been resting against the hilt of the dropped blade.

  It was just enough of a connection to send the knife back in time with him, however it had taken Malcolm many a restart before he realised there was a tangible blade at his disposal. As he re-materialised into the past, the blade inexplicably reformed in Kevin’s basement; his final resting place. Malcolm had only stumbled on it by accident when he noticed the familiar weapon existing far too early in the timeline, whilst searching Kevin’s home for answers.

  He remembered licking his lips, frightened to reach out for it in case it was a cruel mirage; a joke at his expense. The joy he experienced when his outstretched shaking fingers wrapped around the hilt was palpable…

  ‘And you’re saying this knife reappears at Kevin’s every restart?’ asked Peter curiously.

  ‘Yes,’ confirmed Malcolm. ‘My past-self is forced to head out and retrieve it every time. Twenty-nine minutes wasted on each new Cerebral Rever…restart.’ It was an awful lot of work, having to run such a menial errand of collection each and every time.

  ‘That’s a bit of a game changer isn’t it,’ noted Kara. ‘I mean what happens if he stabs us whilst we’re…out-of-phase like this?’

  It was a valid concern. From watching Hal and Malcolm’s sparring session, they had established injuries did not seem to take hold in the same way as they would have in the present, though there was no telling what affect an in-phase knife would have on their bodies.

  ‘Whilst it is unlikely,’ posited Malcolm, ‘that the blade could cut into us in our current state, it would be advisable to not test the theory.’

  “A ropey theory,” thought Kara.

  A sentiment the others apparently shared, judging by the crumpled noses of her friends. His words didn’t exactly succeed in filling any of them with much confidence.

  Peter seemed to be the only exception, the cogs of his mind clearly churning, as if mildly intrigued by the prospect of their inherent invulnerability.

  Not for the first time, Kara wondered if Malcolm was intentionally withholding vital information from them all.

  ‘The only advantage you will have,’ said Malcolm, returning to the matter at hand, ‘is that he will not be able to foresee that I have trained the four of you. That, effectively, he has trained you. But he will adapt. You'll get three attempts, maximum. If any more time passes, it will be over before it’s begun.’

  ‘You must be a real hoot at parties,’ mumbled Hal, as Malcolm popped out of time, leaving only a loud snap in his wake, a short rush of air flooding the space the killer was previously occupying like a shawl of unseen piranha.

  ‘Dammit,’ said Hal, knowing what was coming next, as Malcolm reformed and punched him hard in his kidney.

  *

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Hal, watching as Peter took his turn at being punched repeatedly by their surly tutor. ‘You mentioned you could travel anywhere within the confines of the restart cycle?’

  ‘Correct,’ confirmed Malcolm.

  ‘By that logic, there must be a way to reach Sunday, then?’ said Hal, the cylinders of his mind clearly whirring at full speed.

  ‘We’ve been through this,’ said Malcolm, his back to Peter, who took the chance to run at him.

  Malcolm cocked his head to one side, and popped out of time for a second, causing Peter to come in hot. Peter ran through where the man had just been standing, his momentum carrying him forward, as Malcolm popped back into phase and shoved him hard from behind, sending Peter face first into the thankfully-harmless gravel.

  Having waited for Malcolm to return, Hal continued.

  ‘When you ended up at the hospital. You effectively broke out of this loop we’re all in.’

  ‘I cannot travel further than the thirty-three-hours. Sunday was nothing more than an anomaly.’

  ‘Eight years isn’t an anomaly though, is it?’ noted Kara.

  ‘Right?!’ agreed Hal. ‘That’s like…many-omalies!’

  ‘Even if I could, what would be the point?’ said Malcolm irritably. ‘There’s nothing there but the hospital room. Even if I could go back there, the Restart Point is just outside the door. And I can’t manipulate myself to leave the room to extend that, what with myself being not only comatose, but physically chained to a bed.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Peter, his voice temporarily muffled due to his face being pressed into the ground, ‘but that was before you topped yourself. I think what Hal’s saying is, what if you’re not bound to that room like you were before?’

  ‘Peter gets it!’ said Hal, remembering once more why he loved Peter. ‘I’m saying, what if time isn’t looking for you anymore? What if you could fast forward to Sunday and leave that hospital room.’

  Malcolm stared at Hal, raising his hand as a signal for Peter to stop their training. Peter nodded into the dirt with what Fearne interpreted as being pleasant relief.

  ‘You said it yourself,’ said Hal, now pacing in small circles around Malcolm, eyeing the man up like a Kingsman tailor taking guesstimates on measurements for a new suit he had been tasked with making. ‘You can’t trigger restarts anymore when you cross a Restart Point. What if The White Lodge is just the beginning? Another piece of the puzzle?’

  Kara pulled herself up from the grass, realising this was the start of what they had talked about earlier. ‘Another nexus at the hospital you mean?’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Hal. ‘You could check out what affect our actions in the past are having on that Sunday. Maybe take a peek on how what we’re doing here is affecting our present.’

  Malcolm couldn’t help but marvel at the boy’s imagination. It was as if he possessed a remarkable intellect that evidenced a deep understanding of fourth-dimensional physics, whilst at the same time stumbling across such musings purely by sheer luck and a refusal to be beaten.

  ‘Fast-forwarding that far…’ mused Malcolm, opening his thoughts to the rest of them, ‘…beyond the end of these thirty-three-hours? Into my second set of restarts…it would take a tremendous charge of power to reach across time in such a way.’ He hadn’t told them how much it actually drained him every time he jumped even a few hours. ‘Though even if we were to succeed, I doubt there’s much coverage of how the four of you are doing in a Norfolk hospital.’

  The serial killer had a point.

  ‘I, erm, have
an idea on how you could...generate that kind of energy…’ said Fearne, startling them by her sudden desire to enter the conversation.

  ‘Fearne, I don’t know if–’ began Peter, an uncharacteristic look of embarrassment flashing across his face, equal in intensity to his trademark smoulder.

  ‘Well...’ she continued, ignoring her partner’s plea. ‘On one of our early repeats, sorry restarts,’ she added, amending her terminology to eradicate Hal’s scrunched nose of displeasure. ‘We ahh...how do I put this?’

  Fearne flushed red with mild embarrassment and brushed a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, seemingly unable to make eye contact with Hal, Kara, and especially Malcolm.

  ‘No one was around, and we just thought, what’s the harm, right?’ said Fearne, shooting a loving look at Peter, as if remembering a very specific moment that made her feel fizzy in ways only Peter ever could.

  ‘I'm not following?’ said Hal, utterly lost by whatever subtext he was meant to be understanding.

  ‘Oh God, please stop talking,’ said Kara, addressing Fearne, sensing where this was going.

  ‘Plus, ya know,’ said Peter, deciding to embrace the moment in an attempt to look nonplussed and masculine. ‘It's not like anyone could see us.’

  ‘Kind of made it feel more dangerous,’ agreed Fearne, staring straight into Peter’s eyes. ‘Being in the middle of the living room like that. More risky. When–’

  Hal looked from Fearne, to Peter, then back again, wondering why they were acting as if they were currently alone right now and sharing what was clearly some kind of intimate look of…

  ‘Oh,’ said Hal, realising what they were talking about. ‘Ohhhhh…’

  ‘There was something about being in that moment together,’ said Fearne, wrapping her arms around herself and giving off a little shiver, as the memories replayed in her mind. ‘That...well, the blue energy spiked, and kept us charged for hours after.’

  ‘You had sexual intercourse?’ asked Malcolm, as unfazed emotionally as he was un-phased physically.