by Sean McMahon
‘A little…reductive for my taste,’ said the owner of the mantle.
‘It’ll grow on you,’ said Malcolm with the flash of a smile, surprising even himself when it hit him that he actually meant it. ‘They do enjoy their little labels. Almost as much as they love to embrace the fantastical attributes of this place. They would have believed anything I had told them at that point. So much so, that they often forget to question the more realistic limitations of the prison they’re contained in.’
‘You looked so serious,’ The Dark Restarter chirped. ‘Concentrating, as if you were slowing time. I was almost embarrassed for you.’
Future Malcolm had a bone to pick with his past self, and dropped the pretence of self-fulfilling allegiance.
Though initially wary to explore the issue, he found himself remembering that the words had been thrown at him already, many years ago, and eventually took comfort from the knowledge that it was inevitable.
‘Trying to leave the lakes in Kevin’s truck? That was not what we agreed. What the hell were you thinking?’
‘I needed to exhaust all possibilities,’ said Past Malcolm. ‘That failure proved to me that your claims were true; the past cannot be changed. At least, not your past.’
It had been one of the few genuinely-implanted memories Future Malcolm had received; the instance where his past-self had gone off script in order to test Future Malcolm’s claims that his path was predetermined. The instances of alleged memory insertion that followed were easy to fake thereafter.
‘It was foolish and nearly cost us everything,’ said Future Malcolm.
‘You can place her over there,’ said Past Malcolm, ignoring the pathetic sulking of his future-self and not wishing to release his grip on the table top, instead using his head to gesture to the cage behind him.
‘All I ask,’ said Future Malcolm, ‘is that you keep her alive until I can bring the others to you. Do you think you can handle that?’
The question triggered another instance of severe chronological dissonance, though Past Malcolm appeared to feel it more, a nonsensical word being all he could muster.
‘Gak.’
Future Malcolm realised it was probably better to phrase his words as statements rather than questions.
‘No doubt a side effect from poking around in your own past too much. It will pass.’
‘How is it that you seem less affected!’ said Past Malcolm. ‘Do you not feel it too?’
‘No,’ he lied, struggling to stay upright following the receipt of the question and wanting nothing more than to vomit violently.
He compartmentalized the notion and proceeded onwards.
‘And that business at Fir Lodge? You see now why that approach will never work,’ said Future Malcolm. ‘Killing them in the past isn't the answer. You need to kill them in their time-travelling form. They simply can't bounce back from that. Only then can you proceed with our mission.’
‘And what is our mission exactly?’ he said sceptically.
Malcolm smiled wearily, recalling the words he had heard himself utter many moons ago, ensuring he got them right, despite knowing they would come naturally regardless. ‘The same as it's always been brother, to bring an end to the rat-catcher and orange menace. To remove them from the board, once and for all.’
‘And then we’ll be free?’ The Dark Restarter said longingly. Desperately.
‘Not exactly. You will become me. And I will be free.’
‘I keep forgetting that part,’ his younger self grumbled. ‘I’m not looking forward to that. You seem to have lost the joy in your work.’
‘It will be our greatest masterpiece,’ said Future Malcolm. ‘To Ophelia,’ he added.
‘To Ophelia,’ the Dark Restarter seconded, issuing a meaningful nod, in lieu of a glass he could raise.
‘The second Restarter, as promised,’ said Future Malcolm, placing Fearne’s unconscious body down gently inside the cage. ‘I know it killed you, being captured like that. I apologise.’
‘I must admit, I was sceptical. I thought I’d gone soft in my old age,’ Past Malcolm said dryly.
‘Never. We’re closer than we’ve ever been.’
‘The rat-catcher first,’ said Past Malcolm, mimicking his future-self’s method of communication by communicating via statements rather than questions. ‘On his own, that was the arrangement.’
‘Of course,’ said Future Malcolm. ‘I will deliver him to you shortly.’
‘And how do you plan on separating them?’ asked Past Malcolm. ‘They always travel together.’
‘You leave Kara to me. I know what I’m doing. Just be ready. Once Hal is down, the secretary is yours to do with as you wish.’
‘You mean Harold,’ said Past Malcolm, his eyes narrowing at the slip.
‘That is what I said.’
‘No, you called him Hal.’
Future Malcolm was hoping his past-self had missed it, but knew that was optimistic. Instead, he tried a different approach to cover his mistake.
‘Are you sure that’s what you heard?’ asked Future Malcolm, speaking quickly, barraging his past-self with a collection of follow-up questions, knowing that doing so would cut his mind to ribbons given their close proximity. ‘Because if you aren’t hearing me correctly, are you sure you can handle this? Perhaps you’re losing your edge? Do I need to make alternative arrangements?’
Past Malcolm was shaking, the words creating an endless feedback loop in his brain.
‘Stop,’ he whispered, reaching his limit.
‘Then we understand each other,’ said Future Malcolm. ‘I have but one request.’
‘It’s the least I can do, out with it,’ the Dark Restarter spat, swaying slightly, the aftershocks still coursing through him.
Future Malcolm shifted uncomfortably, knowing the words he used next could be a deal breaker. He pulled himself together, also knowing he was simply repeating what he had heard himself say, albeit many moons ago. ‘Make it…quick. There’s no need to draw out their suffering.’
Malcolm’s younger self pushed away from the table, sizing himself up.
‘That…is an odd request. Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached to them? After everything they’ve done to us? Everything they’ve taken from us?’
It was Future Malcolm’s turn to fight back against the onslaught of questions, the tide threatening to drown him. ‘Of course not,’ he fired back. ‘It’s just imperative not to draw this out. We need it done and we need it done quickly. Their resilience is…unprecedented. Their bond allows for miraculous improvisation.’
‘It would be quicker with your help,’ said Past Malcolm, pressing an old issue he had posed at the very beginning.
And every restart thereafter, in fact.
Ever since Future Malcolm had realigned himself with the specific restart his past-self was occupying, he had re-materialised next to him.
Future Malcolm would then relay to his past-self what the order of business was for the next thirty-three hours. Everything had been by design;
The murder of Peter in his Restarter form.
The massacre at Fir Lodge.
The carefully orchestrated second murder of Peter when he reformed during said Massacre.
That had been crucial. It led to a divide in trust between Fearne, Hal and Kara. One which Future Malcolm had exploited in order to bait them to come here; the place where the Restarters would be laid to rest once and for all.
‘We all have our parts to play,’ said Future Malcolm finally. ‘Mine is merely to facilitate their arrival. That’s how it was then, and how it must be now. I’ve come too damn far to risk changing the outcome just to assuage your damaged pride.’
‘You forget who you’re talking to,’ the Dark Restarter challenged.
‘I know exactly who I’m talking to,’ said Future Malcolm, his eyes flaring crimson, unable to hide a notable look of distaste in his features.
‘Is this what I become?’ said the Malcolm of the past. ‘A
voice in the shadows, an echo of my former self, frolicking around the forest, fraternizing with the enemy?’
‘That so-called fraternization has yielded more results in barely two months that you’ve made in the years you yourself have been here. Perhaps, instead of analysing the man in the mirror, you would do better to heed my advice. As opposed to questioning my apparent emotional attachment to our murderers.’
Malcolm’s past-self stared, his expression switching from fury to a smile so quickly it was impossible to tell where it would lead, until, eventually, it evolved into a barking laugh.
“It does have a fakeness to it,” thought Future Malcolm, realising that perhaps Hal had been right. “Something to work on.”
‘There he is,’ said Past Malcolm, a flash of respect dancing across his face, finally at ease.
‘You’ve removed all the devices that can generate music from the room?’ asked Future Malcolm.
‘As instructed. Oh, and you’ll need that,’ said Past Malcolm, pointing towards a thin, neatly folded garment situated behind his guest. ‘You’ve got red on you.’
Future Malcolm looked down at his blood-soaked apron. He quickly removed it, crunched it into a ball and threw it to his past-self, carefully replacing it with the much cleaner variant from the past waiting for him on the work surface.
‘Very good. And you’ve made the necessary arrangements for our corporeal-self to be nearby, so you can draw charge from him if needed?’
Malcolm’s past-self smiled darkly, and snapped his fingers.
From the shadows, the incarnation of himself that was whole and in-phase with the physical world lurched forward, only he didn’t look as whole as Malcolm remembered himself to be. Not in the slightest…
Future Malcolm surveyed the alive version of himself, now entirely under the thrall of his Restarting counterpart, and cringed internally.
Once a mind fully in control of his own destiny, now a weak and mindless lacky, forced to enact the commands of the time travelling version of his own consciousness. It made him feel ill, though not as unwell as his physical body clearly looked; still as muscular as he ever was, of course, but the eyes…the eyes were dead. The embers of whatever quantified as his soul truly extinguished, his face little more than an expressionless husk. A slab of granite, devoid of even the faintest glimmer of free will.
It was worse than seeing himself comatose.
‘It begins then,’ said Future Malcolm, ignoring how uncomfortable seeing himself this way made him. ‘The epitaph has been carved. Harold and Kara die tonight. And this time,’ he added, his smile savage, eyes full of nothing but long-overdue vengeance. ‘There’s no way for them to return. It will be irreversible.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Manifesting Destiny
203rd Restart – Saturday, August 25th, 2018, 2:04pm
The White lodge.
Covered by the eternal snowfall let loose by infinity.
A battle appeared to be playing out before him, but his thoughts were scattered. He both recognised the participants and yet…equally saw them as faceless strangers, their names on the tip of a tongue that didn’t exist, let alone one that could be used to utter them.
Black figures joined the fray.
“Time Vampires”, he had thought.
Eager to feast upon the dregs of energy from a body sputtering with blue sparks. A fallen combatant on their last legs, so desperately in need of being revived.
He extended a hand to help the fallen warrior.
Then darkness.
Then screaming.
His screaming.
‘And then I was back,’ said Hal casually, recounting what it had felt like to be erased temporarily during their run in with a Restarting Terminator.
‘Weird dream,’ noted Kara.
‘Definitely the kind you get after eating too many Coco Pops before bed,’ acknowledged Hal.
‘You’re thirty-three Hal, you really need to work on your diet.’
‘You don’t own me,’ said Hal defiantly. ‘I hope to God we don’t end up in an alternate timeline where we’re married.’
‘Oh Lordy, that would suck.’
They shared a laugh, the momentary reprieve weighing heavily on them.
It had been over 24 hours since they had last seen Fearne, and it was starting to seem a lot less like a soul-searching time out, and lot more like she’d dropped off the small slice of Earth they currently called home.
They had made their way back to Fir Lodge once more, in the hope that maybe they had all missed each other somehow, and were currently taking a break in the rear garden, as Malcolm re-materialised behind them.
‘Sonuva–’ squealed Hal. ‘We need to get you a bell or something.’
Hal and Kara had been reluctant to leave their friends unguarded following the events of the night before, but equally felt uncomfortable leaving Fearne to roam the lakes all on her lonesome now that a murderous Restarter had seemingly gone into self-destruct mode.
‘Any change in the future?’ asked Kara, not believing for a second that he had even gone to check.
‘None,’ said Malcolm. ‘Thankfully the rampage of my former self has been Restarted without consequence.’
Future Malcolm had decided to remain hidden, feeling that returning back immediately would arouse suspicion, but judging by Kara’s facial expressions, he needn’t have bothered.
‘Uh huh. Sure.’
Malcolm surveyed the rear garden, his eyes falling onto a version of Fearne from the past, already in her costume, making the time approximately early afternoon on the Saturday of their eternal stay.
‘She’s still not back,’ said Kara, following his line of sight.
‘Perhaps we should look for her?’ said Malcolm, his voice containing just the right amount of concern.
‘What do you think we’ve been doing for the past twenty-four hours?’ said Hal with a justified scoff.
‘We could just go the boundary line,’ suggested Kara.
It was a solid plan. Triggering an early restart would bring everyone back together.
‘You’re right,’ said Hal. ‘Enough is enough. I’ll go,’ he added, pulling himself up from the grass and grabbing his backpack of restarted objects, collecting his replica gun from the ground, holstering it with a spin.
Kara stared at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, just you being all Wild West. It was funny.’
‘I was going more for a Mal Reynolds kind of vibe.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘My mother used to call me Mal,’ said Malcolm.
‘Annnnd now you’ve ruined Firefly,’ said Hal, rolling his eyes, causing Malcolm to shrug with indifference.
‘I’ll run to the perimeter. And–’
‘Since when do you say perimeter?’ laughed Kara.
‘What, it’s a word,’ said Hal snootily. ‘That people use.’
‘Yeah, but, ya know. You’re not running a police operation.’
‘Time Police,’ joked Hal, tapping an imaginary sheriff badge. ‘We’ve only got about six hours until sundown, which means about seven hours until the next restart kicks in. I’d rather have her back before then.’
‘Be careful.’
Hal shot her a mischievous look before taking his leave. ‘I aim to misbehave, ma’am.’
Malcolm fell to his knees, causing both Kara and Hal to stare at him in amusement.
‘Malc’, we’ve been over this. Inserted memories are not a thing for you,’ said Hal, turning away from the allegedly reformed killer’s amateur dramatics.
‘He has her,’ said Malcolm shakily, his words catching serious attention.
The Restarters knew he meant Fearne.
‘You knew this would happen,’ said Kara, losing patience.
‘I did. But it’s too soon,’ confessed Malcolm. A truth hidden within a lie that neither Restarter could contest. That was, after all, what compulsive liars did be
st; hiding in plain sight. ‘She must’ve sought him…me out. She’s changing the past!’
It didn’t matter if they believed him or not. The only thing that mattered was saving Fearne before she was erased just like Peter.
‘Okay,’ said Kara, standing and getting her thoughts in order. ‘Where has he taken her?’
‘He’s on the move,’ said Future Malcolm, closing his eyes and placing his fingers to his temple like he was running a school for gifted folks with power-affording mutations.
‘Urgh, fine,’ said Kara. ‘Don’t tell us. We’ll do this ourselves. Let’s go,’ she said, pulling Hal by the arm with the intention of reaching the Restart Point before any harm could come to their friend.
*
As they reached the boundary line Malcolm slowed down, as Hal ran straight into the invisible force field preventing any of them from triggering a restart.
He rubbed his noise, checking his hand to see if there was any blood.
‘Oww.’
‘Of bloody course,’ said Kara, spinning to face Malcolm. ‘Why can’t we leave?’
‘He must have journeyed into the future.’
‘How far?!’
‘You said it yourself,’ said Malcolm. ‘It would technically only require a single minute. That would be enough to prevent you from accessing the Restart Point.’
‘Oh c’mon!’ said Hal, turning in circles with impatience, trying to find a loophole he could exploit, but coming up empty. ‘Okay, then we find her the old-fashioned way.’
‘You mean, search the entirety of Pentney Lakes?’ said Kara, letting the unrealistic success rate of that option wash over him.
‘There’s…something else you I need to tell you,’ said Malcolm.
‘Shocker,’ said Hal. ‘Spit it out.’
‘My physical self, he’s taken a captive.’
The Restarters stared at him with incredulity. Future Malcolm had one job; to give them the heads-up to prevent these sorts of things from happening. It seemed incredibly unlikely that everything would come unstuck all at once by sheer chance.
And it was happening with increasing regularity.
‘Wait? So Dark Restarter you has Fearne, and Alive you has…who?’