by Sean McMahon
‘Where am I?’ said Kara, pulling herself upright and looking over to the mound of figures keeping Malcolm at bay.
Hal pulled a face, seemingly trying to concentrate, but instead looking somewhat constipated, before speaking again.
‘Vampires. Time. The. We’re,’ he said, smiling and nodding as if he was impressed with the result.
Kara laughed, realising he was trying to speak in his version of reverse solely for her benefit, in the hope it would translate into something she could understand. To be fair, she discovered it was a solid effort, as she tried to mutter a single word backwards, immediately appreciating how hard it was.
‘iH!’ she said.
‘Hi,’ he said back, smiling with joy and laughing, the act coming across quite creepy as the sound played out backwards. ‘og ot toG!’ he added, before pulling a face of frustration and huffing at how much he sucked at this.
‘Got to go?’
Hal nodded at his friend enthusiastically, as if they were playing a God Tier level of charades.
Kara nodded, then shrugged over-dramatically as if trying to order something in a foreign land having no prior knowledge of the dialect or customs, spreading her arms as if to say “How?”
Hal flapped his arm, rocking a come-hither sort of vibe and pointed beyond his duplicated brethren.
Kara watched the creatures with fresh eyes, as more of them appeared, no longer the faceless monsters of her nightmares, but something far more recognisable. They continued to tussle with Malcolm, draining him of his darker brand of Restarter energy as they did so, the shadows of what Kara now realised were the discarded echoes of their former selves taking on a much more familiar appearance, their features phasing into view as the realisation hit her like a freight train of obviousness; an army of Ghostbusters, Velmas, Golfers, Marilyn Monroes, and David Bowies all working towards a singular goal; to buy her some much needed time.
Hal and Rachel shared a dark look of understanding, and with a barely perceptible nod from Hal, the latter ran off to join the fray.
‘They're...us...’ said Kara.
All this time they had assumed that the featureless creatures were some kind of malevolent beasts feeding on the energy between timelines.
Time Vampires, they had called them. But now she knew the conclusions they had vaulted towards were way off.
They weren’t the enemy after all.
Three Hell Hounds slinked in from several of the multiple entry points to the garden, each growling as they held position; ink-coloured sentries keeping guard over the monster that was threatening what they each remembered to be Kara.
They released a single unified bark, that hit Kara’s ears in all kinds of wrong, the sound reverberating in reverse.
“Not Hell Hounds,” she realised with renewed excitement. “Nexus Jer–”
‘What are these things?’ The Dark Restarter growled, throwing the humanoids off of him with ferocity, apparently unable to see them for what or who they really were.
‘They're us. All the versions of us you killed,’ Kara shouted back to him. ‘And they're really fucking pissed with you!’
That was her working theory, but there seemed like too many for that. And then a darker truth dawned on her. It was more than that. They were–
Her thoughts were fractured by Malcolm’s fearful shouts.
‘We need to get out of here,’ she murmured, more to herself than for Malcolm’s benefit.
Kara turned to face the echo of Hal, who nodded and ran off towards the lodge, rolling his eyes back at her when he realised she hadn’t taken the hint, once again gesturing for her to follow.
In an instant, she was beside…whatever version of Hal this currently was.
Kara didn’t recall following him, but now found herself in Robert’s room, where she was met with the sight of an empty bedroom, with Hal pointing excitedly towards the bed.
‘Thanks Hal, but I was thinking of leaving, not sleeping. Wait,’ she said, her eyes narrowing playfully. ‘What are you asking me to do here?’
Hal looked confused, his eyes growing wide and waving his arms as if to cross out the relevance of the bed, seemingly mortified at what she was insinuating, and not at all what he was suggesting.
‘Head of out gutter,’ he exclaimed, his smile betraying the appalled glare in his eyes.
‘Hey, you’re the one who kept pointing at the bed,’ she laughed, not even bothering to try and say that in reverse.
‘drawkwA,’ he muttered, before placing a hand on her shoulder.
She felt another surge of energy run through her, and suddenly saw that he wasn’t actually suggesting a controversial method of spiking their energy, but was instead pointing at what appeared to be a fracture in the wall that was suddenly perceptible to her.
Thanks to Hal’s touch, she assumed.
“No,” she corrected in her mind. She was thinking too small again. “A fracture through time.” She stared at the beautiful veil of shimmering, emerald-green energy. A rip in reality that shared more than a passing resemblance to that of a doorway.
“Not beautiful,” she thought. “Dangerous.”
‘Is this what the Time Vampires,’ she corrected herself, ‘sorry, Time Echoes were feeding off?’
Hal and Kara had assumed it was the paradox caused by Peter the creatures had been staring at during their first trip into the nexus; that by changing his own timeline and him being pinned to the bedroom wall he had given the occupants of the nexus some scraps to latch onto…but as it turned out, it was merely an unseen gateway into the past they were being drawn to.
At least, unseen by Hal, Future Malcolm, and her the first time they had come here…
A considerably more murderous Malcolm arrived in the doorway, looking positively exhausted.
‘You,’ he growled, rushing at Kara, who allowed him to collide with her, dragging him with her through the split in space-time, as their bodies de-materialised and re-entered a much more predictable dimension.
Left behind like a rejected prom date, the echo of Hal walked slowly to the temporal schism and reached out towards it, but it shrunk with every step he made, shying away from him, until he placed his hand directly onto the space it once was, closing the breach completely.
He smiled, as the colour of his features bled away, replaced instead by a sickly-black oily complexion, his clothes tightening and morphing into nothingness, until he was once again nothing more than a mindless creature.
Other humanoid shapes made their way back from the garden, taking up the spaces next to him, until the room was completely full of them once more, the last of them closing the door behind themselves.
And they waited.
For what, they did not know.
An opportunity?
Freedom?
It was then that the door of the bedroom opened behind them, and they all turned around in unison, a shared jerking movement of surprise, and stared with eyeless faces at the intruder.
A man in a brown leather jacket, who reeked of power.
Power they craved.
Needed.
The man before them slowly extended an arm out towards the handle of the door, eager to close it to lock them back inside, but stopped himself, his hand halting just before it reached the door handle. The now-androgynous being that had formerly assisted Kara moments before mimicked his action. The others follow suit, their arms now extending towards him and drawing a wisp of electricity from the man’s cheek.
‘Ouch’, the uninvited guest muttered.
‘hcuO,’ replied the Time Echoes all at once, a feedback loop befuddling their confused minds.
But to anyone experiencing time chronologically, such as the interloping time-traveller standing before them, the way the syllables bounced around in reverse sounded a lot more like “Chew.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
All Good Things…
203rd Restart – Saturday, August 25th, 2018, 5:07pm
'Soooo, got any pl
ans for the future? Should all this work out and we manage to escape, I mean?’ said Hal, in a dismal attempt at making small-talk.
Kara, and the considerably more killerish version of Malcolm, had been gone for what had felt like hours, though in reality it had only been a fistful of minutes.
‘I was thinking, perhaps, of taking up…fishing?’ said Future Malcolm, as if asking Hal advice on if that was something normal people might do. Those of a more stable disposition who didn’t indulge in murder, for example.
‘Cool,’ said Hal. ‘Cool, cool, cool, no doubt.’
The Dark Restarter and Kara were thrust back into the land of the almost-living, caught in a deadly tussle, neither of them releasing their grip on each other.
‘Oh, thank God,’ said Hal, partially glad to see Kara alive and well, but mainly more because he didn’t have to engage in laborious, banal chit-chat with his Malcolm any longer.
Future Malcolm kicked the blade Hal was still trying to reach gently with his foot, so Hal could pick it up from underneath the metal grill of the cage, then popped out of existence before his past-self had time to see him.
‘Kara!’ Hal shouted, sliding the blade across the floor to her.
She ducked down to avoid a vicious swing from Malcolm, catching it by the hilt and spinning it in her hand. Kara brought the knife downwards in a sharp, fluid motion as The Dark Restarter closed the gap between them.
He grabbed her wrist effortlessly, blue and red sparks spewing between them.
‘You have nerve, girl, I’ll give you that,’ said the Malcolm of the past, smiling at her trembling arm that was no match for his strength. ‘How did you bring us back here?’
‘I…have a lot of friends across time these days,’ she said, straining against his might.
‘What are you?’ The Dark Restarter questioned, more out of genuine interest than as a stalling tactic, marvelling at how she was able to hold him at bay at all.
‘Endahyou,’ Kara mumbled, and Malcolm leaned in closer to her, their faces mere millimetres apart. The energy that was fuelling Kara had all but depleted, that much was clear. Instead of the wildly powerful glowing eyes, it was just her regular green-tinged orbs that stared back at him, her stimulated pupils dilating. A frightened woman, seriously out of her depth.
‘Say again?’ he said, revelling in the moment before her death. Drinking it in like a fine wine.
Kara pursed her lips, the blade held in place above Malcolm. ‘I said…the end of you.’
The Dark Restarter’s eyes widened in bemusement, as Kara released her grip on the blade from one hand, allowing it to fall freely between them, landing perfectly into the open palm of her other, her fingers wrapping cleanly around the handle.
She relaxed her left arm entirely, surrendering to Malcolm’s superior strength, causing him to fall towards her, and into the knife, which slid through his chest with a sickening crunch.
They stood there, pressed against each other, Kara with a look of combined horror at what she had done, and Malcolm with a look of…was that a congratulatory look in his eyes?
She couldn’t tell.
She wanted to throw-up, feeling almost cheated that she couldn’t.
As blood began to trickle down from his body and down her arm, there was the briefest crackle of red energy emanating from Kara’s hand.
They both saw it.
The Dark Restarter brought his lips to her left ear.
‘Interesting, isn’t–’ he spluttered, as blood rose up to fill his mouth, and he puckered his mouth as if trying to swallow, but instead allowed the black liquid to dribble down his chin so he could continue speaking, before trying again. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘What?’ she whispered, choosing to focus entirely on the wall in front of her as Malcolm’s body began to increase in weight.
‘All this time, you were–’ he growled defiantly, the act of talking clearly becoming a struggle. ‘You were chasing me, chasing the darkness…what was it you called me? The Dark Restarter?…’ his body convulsed, but he kept it together. Just a little longer. ‘When, in truth, you were only chasing yourself…’
‘Shut up,’ she said defensively.
She knew what he was trying to do. Future Malcolm had warned her he would do this.
But she was powerless to resist hearing the words splurging from the mouth of the snake, his forked tongue so calm and laced with conviction. Wrapping around her thoughts like a parasite.
‘Chasing your destiny,’ said the mortally wounded Malcolm. ‘But we both saw it…’ she knew he was referring to the flash of red energy. ‘You’ll make a fine Dark Restarter, Kara…’
The words hung in the air like a stagnant truth, blue and red sparks showering between them onto the ground. Intermingling in such a way that it made it impossible to truly tell which of them was channelling which.
Past Malcolm began to chuckle. A guttural noise that would have made even Lucifer grab his coat and make his excuses to leave.
And on that dire note, she savagely twisted the blade counter clockwise, then clockwise, just as Malcolm’s future-self had instructed her to, and pushed the lumbering giant off of her, where he landed with a soundless thud, his words still ringing in her ears.
Her second murder now under her belt.
Only this one was far more brutal. Up close. Personal.
Was she any different from Malcolm?
All he was trying to achieve was to change the past so that he could be free of this place. Travelling through time, killing all those that stood in his way to reaching that singular goal…
As she looked down at her blood-soaked hands, thankful that she had no sense of smell in her current state, and looked down at the body beneath her, the blade sticking upright from his chest, unable to shake a bitter question from her mind;
The notion that perhaps, after all this time, her and Hal were the true Dark Restarters all along.
The Restarter fell to her knees, tears forming.
Not because of having defeated Malcolm, but because he had forced her hand.
She stared at the blade, which was now resting on the ground, thanks to the body it had perforated now little more than cosmic dust, returning to the winds of time. The blade itself began to fade away, its work well and truly done here.
She felt a sudden burst of anger, and reached out for the weapon.
The object seemed confused, as if unsure if it should be ceasing to exist or if Kara had become its rightful owner by default.
As a compromise, it solidified in her hand, not wanting any trouble until the rules could be ironed out.
Pushing it between the flimsy latch and the metal gate that held the metal grills in place thanks to the pesky padlock, Kara used the blade as leverage in an attempt to break it.
‘That won’t work, Kar’, we’re not in phase with–’ began Hal, his argument immediately invalidated as it snapped effortlessly. ‘How did you–’
‘Where is he,’ said Kara, her eyes filled with a shine that seemed to peer straight through him.
‘It’s over, Kara,’ said Hal, reaching for the blade as if hoping to take the burden from her.
‘Not quite.’
She made her way to the staircase, in search of the final loose end to their nightmare that only she could tie up.
*
Kara didn’t waste a second, marching through the double patio doors and into the rear garden where Future Malcolm was waiting for her.
She grabbed Malcolm by the scruff of his shirt and drew back the blade, slicing it through the air and stopping its traversal just before his Adam’s apple.
A shower of red electricity surging between them.
‘Kara, what are you doing?’ asked Future Malcolm, utterly perplexed by her actions.
‘Say their names,’ she spat savagely.
‘I don’t know what you want me to–’
‘Say. Their. Names!’
‘Peter. Fearne,’ he muttered, not entirely sure what was happe
ning.
‘Is there even an Ophelia at all? Did you just make her up to manipulate us?’
‘…’
‘Answer me!’ she screamed, causing a wave of vicious red energy to erupt from her eyes, generating a mini shockwave that blew the dirt from underneath them in an outwards circle.
She pushed the blade further, causing blood to flow from the small cut she was carving into his neck.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to face her assailant, realising it was Hal. She attempted to shrug away from his grip, but Hal held on tight, his teeth chattering under the duress the connection was causing, the last dregs of his own power siphoning away into her.
‘K-Kara, put down the knife.’
She attempted to shrug Hal off her shoulder with a minimal exertion that somehow sent him reeling backwards and into the patio doors, the force sending an impossible crack to spread across the glass.
Something was wrong. Deep inside her. She felt…broken. She could feel it. The physical world around her was bending to her dark desires in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.
Returning her focus back to Malcolm, she applied more pressure to the restarted blade, his grip on her wrists doing little to slow her progress. She lashed out, pushing him hard in the chest and sending him into a nearby tree trunk, leaving him winded, gasping for the air that did little to quench his body’s thirst.
Kara suddenly felt like she was being ganged up on, that the person she trusted more than anyone else in this godforsaken circle of hell had been fooled, tricked, and was now siding against her. The red energy crackled as she gripped the hilt of the knife even harder.
She wanted to tell Hal everything. That Malcolm’s Dark Restarter form had literally just told her what his plan was. That the only way Malcolm could feel truly free was to kill everything they loved and cared about. That he would not rest until he achieved that goal. That, even now, he was playing them. It had been he, the soothsaying Future Malcolm, who had knowingly sent Peter to the slaughter, that had kept them in line this whole time, not allowing them to diverge from his meticulously devised and orchestrated plan.