Recalling Destiny

by Michael Blinkhoff

  In his mind images flash and he sees the truth, but shuts his eyes to force the thought from his head. He doesn’t want to know the truth, doesn’t want to believe the images flashing inside his head.

  Stuck now, he wonders who could have been in the truck that was towing his car and feels slightly optimistic as he guesses it must’ve been Truck. He wonders how he’d gotten out of the apartment, especially considering the explosion he heard.

  It must be Truck, who else could it have been?

  Again, in his mind images flash wildly, but they aren’t of Truck, they are of another person. Harrison screams at the images, annoyed that he’s lost control of his own mind.

  It feels like a long journey to him, but it isn’t. Harrison tries to get the attention of the two in the front seats by calling out, but slowly concludes they aren’t responding to his pleas because something is wrong, he tries hard not to think but knows the two of them must have been quiet for a reason.

  They must have been dead.

  Soon enough the car starts to slow, the roar of the trucks engine stuttering with the compression braking kicking in. He remains buckled up, just in case, and waits till eventually the car comes to a halt by rolling into the vehicle that tows it.

  He wastes no time, once he feels it safe enough he clicks himself free of the seatbelt and jumps forward in the car, eager to check on his friends.

  “Suni!” He shakes her, like a child try to wake a parent. “Suni, wake up, please, wake up!”

  The body of Suni is lifeless though, and flops backwards and forwards at Harrison’s touch. Doc is slumped forward in seat, also motionless, held up only by his seat belt.

  “Guys!” Harrison whelps as he looks them both over, noticing all the bloody spots where bullets must have penetrated their bodies.

  Then the car door opens, and someone reaches in to grab him by the back of his hoodie. He isn’t aware of the tugging at first as he’s too enveloped in the misery of the situation, but then he’s yanked back into the passenger’s seat and back into reality.

  “Hey, what the crap!” he curses, turning to yell at who he thinks is Truck, come to get him.

  But instead of seeing Truck, a tough looking woman with short cropped hair greets him instead. “C’mon kid.”

  “Who the bloody hell are you?” he responds softly, recalling an image of this person in his mind only moments earlier. He’s confused, how could he see this person in his mind if he’s never met her before.

  “Listen kid, we got about a minute before every bloody soldier in this city’s going to be on our ass, now move!” she demands, still holding onto his hoodie.

  He looks back at Suni and Doc, they aren’t in a good way and his eyes begin to well up with tears. He doesn’t do as the woman commands, he needs to help his friends, he can’t move, can’t think properly, what the hell is wrong with his brain.

  “Arrghh, c’mon god dammit!” The lady screams impatiently this time and without missing a beat, she grabs onto his hoodie with the other hand and drags a screaming Harrison out of the car.

  He turns on her viciously after she dumps him on the pavement, which surprises her. He’s about to launch an attack when she stops him with a raised hand.

  “Wait.”

  “Screw you!”

  “Your friends are dead Harrison, it’s time to go!”

  Sirens begin to wail in the background.

  “Who told you my name, who the hell are you!” he screams, standing back up.

  “I know who you are … it was Smith who sent me to get you.”

  “Son of a biscuit eater!” he spits, resenting her use of the name Smith. “Why should I believe you?”

  The woman pulls something out of her jeans pocket, holding it up for Harrison to see. He squints at her, unable to make out what she’s holding. Rolling her eyes and huffing, she tosses it to him so he can inspect it for himself.

  His mood changes dramatically when he realises what it is. To his surprise, in his hands, he holds a small Chewbacca figurine. The same figurine that Smith had pulled out of his pocket and shown him. He looks up at the woman quizzically, searching for an answer.

  “We need to go kid,” she looks over his shoulder in the direction of the sirens.

  “But my friends?”

  She stares at them momentarily in the car, knowing full well that it’s Suni who’s dead in the front seat, a person who she’s shared history with. But her need to get the kid away from danger overrules any other emotions from taking hold and she firms herself. “They’re gone kid.”

  “But, we can’t just leave them ...”

  “Harrison!”

  “What! They’re my friends.”

  “There’s nothing we can do kid, I’m sorry but we have to leave.”

  “Listen, you don’t understand. For years, we’ve been a family, working together, trying to tell the world about this place ...”

  “Destiny.” she finishes his sentence.

  “What?” He looks at her, “How did you know about …”

  “I know what you’ve been up to, what you’ve been trying to accomplish. Right now, all I can say is that it’s over for your friends kiddo,” she pleads. “And we need to go.”

  “I just wanted to know the truth, I didn’t think anyone was going to get hurt.” He hangs his head in his hands and sobs openly.

  “People always get hurt kid, that part of life you can never change.”

  “Well it’s not fair!”

  The woman sighs heavily and comes in closer to Harrison. “You’re the kid right? The one who’s looking for all the answers?”

  “Yeah,” he agrees. “I guess so.”

  “Well this is your chance to find out kid, to find out what’s really going on in the world. You want answers then come with me.”

  “Smith, he’s alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he sent you to get me?” He asks, twirling the Chewbacca figurine in his hands.

  “Yes.”

  He nods his head at her, wiping away the tears as he does so, “Who are you anyway?” he asks, picking himself up off the ground. “I can see you in my mind.”

  “Lucinda, you can call me Lucinda.”

  - -

  Catlin

  Catlin looked into his eyes with fury and he cowered under her gaze, “What do you mean there have been casualties Thomas?” She stabbed a finger into the centre of his chest.

  “Please, Ms, you must understand, I never told them to kill anyone. I, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, you … you said …” he was cut off by Catlin.

  “I said what? What?” she yelled at him. “I never said shoot anyone, I said that we needed to capture them, capture them, bloody alive!”

  He looked back at her fearfully, but didn’t dare reply. Since Thomas had told Catlin of the incident in Melbourne she’d completely lost control of her emotions. She’d initially been trying to resolve the issue and now it had gone completely in the opposite direction.

  Without Samuel for help, Catlin made the decision to get the government involved and now they had made a catastrophe of the situation, people were dead. She was trying to recover the missing agent Viper, and track down possible suspects in the mass deaths that had occurred, she never thought it would come to this.

  It was a simple task, capture the fugitive Suni and her team and try to locate the Viper, but the outcome was far from expected. A building had been blown up, people were dead …

  Catlin had left after it happened and gone upstairs to deal with Thomas in person.

  “I’m sorry Ms, I didn’t mean …”

  “Pfffft!” she dismissed him disdainfully. “People are dead because of you, do you understand that?”

  “We, they, we were attacked.”

  “Attacked? They were unarmed, you
dimwit!”

  “Well, that was not the …”

  “And the others escaped, bloody useless!”

  She turned and started walking away from him when she stopped suddenly, turned and came back to where he stood by the back of the room.

  “In fact, due to your complete lack of ability, I now request that you leave my installation.”

  He shook his head in reply, even smiling at her as if she’d gone mad, “You cannot be ...”

  “Yes Thomas, I am. This is my installation, understood, mine!”

  “It’s not yours, Samuel handed over …”

  “Get the heck out of my installation!” she cut him off again. “You are incompetent and are no longer required.”

  Catlin gestured toward a member of the security team to get his attention, when she got it the guard came over to assist.

  “Wait, Catlin, you can’t do this, Ronald Baker, he is in charge here ...”

  “Out!” She looked at the guard, pointed at Thomas and pointed to the door. Thomas tried his best to object but she ignored him and only stood by watching as he was escorted out of the room.

  The installation had gone quiet, everyone waiting on her next move, “Jacob, I need your help.” She turned and touched her arm to his shoulder.

  “I don’t think you can do that Ms.” he said, flinching involuntarily at the touch. “They’re running things up here now.”

  “Hey, if you think I’m going to tolerate that sort of behaviour in my facility then you’ve got another thing coming. People are dead because of him. Now, I need your help.”

  “Yes Ms, how can I help?” he replied robotically.

  She leant in, close to his ear “We need to fix this … I need your help to fix this.”

  “Fix what exactly?” he replied curtly.

  “You know ...” she leaned in, lowering her voice. “Fix it.”

  His reply was formal. “Ms, perhaps you should return and see Station Eight, they can help you with your request.”

  She frowned at his reply, but didn’t have the time to think, nor the time to correct him on his use of the number system. People were dead because of her actions and she desperately wanted to fix it. This isn’t how she wanted to start her tenure at the facility, with blood on her hands.

  “Station Eight?” she said aloud, and then realised what Jacob had meant by it, the thread. The upstairs facility had no Station Eight, he’d meant for her to return downstairs. Maybe she could undo some of the damage that she’d caused, maybe she could save those people. The thread had the power to change life, perhaps I can go back in time or something, fix everything.

  She wasted no time, hastily making her way back down to the underground facility. When she got in she went straight to Station Eight, “Marion, Ursula, I need your help.”

  They both looked up at her curiously.

  “I need to find the threads for two people that were killed today, I need you to find them and then I need you to revive them, to bring them back to life or fix em, or something ... you know what I mean?” Catlin scratched her head.

  They both looked up at her confused.

  “You can bring people back to life, can’t you?” she asked, rather ignorantly.

  They both nodded, Marion spoke up. “Hmmm, yes.”

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Well let’s make it happen.” she tried to hide her impatience.

  “Ok, that is a possibility,“ Marion replied. “But Catlin, dear, we haven’t even come back on live yet.”

  “What do you mean, back live?”

  “We haven’t been running a live thread since the incident. The event, it must have disrupted the signal. On top of that it’s burnt through most of our hardware, so we haven’t been on a live thread since this all happened. Look at all these burnt wires, and we haven’t even fixed these computers yet.” She indicated where she sat.

  “What?”

  Marion, sensing the impatience rising in Catlin quickly spoke up, “But it’s fine, were just making sure everything’s ready to go before we try and turn it all back on. We don’t want another mishap.”

  “I’ve fixed most of the wires …” Ursula chimed in.

  Catlin breathed as deeply as she could before replying. “Thank you guys, I understand and appreciate your efforts in try to bring us back online.” She managed a polite smile, “But I have a situation right now that is of the upmost importance ... So, I am going to need to you stop what you are doing and reconnect the device to the thread. Now.”

  Marion looked both annoyed and stunned at the request and was about to protest when she seemed to realise the senselessness of argument. She got up, beckoning Catlin to follow and moved over to the thread station room.

  As the door closed behind the two of them the first thing they noticed was how cold it was. Normally it was warm inside the thread room and the two of them found themselves instinctively rubbing their shoulders as the chill hit them.

  “Is it normally so cold in here?” Catlin asked.

  “Actually, it does get rather cold when we turn things off for maintenance, but never this cold.”

  “Is that odd?”

  “Well, like I said in the past when we have turned everything off it’s gotten cold. I can only assume that because it’s been off for a few days that yes, it’s normal.”

  Marion fiddled around in the dark for the light switches, flicked them and lit the room up along the walls.

  Marion sensed that something was wrong immediately once the lights had come on, the normally illuminated thread behind its glass protectant case wasn’t showing like usual. Marion moved over to it and cupped her hand to her head as she squinted into the glass, looking for signs of life behind.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, I’m not sure to be honest. I have been in detention you know, this is the first time I’ve been in here since getting out.” Marion jumped onto the in-house phone and dialled for her assistant to come into the room.

  Catlin, suddenly feeling technically retarded, leant back on the wall and watched in silence as Ursula came in and the two of them fiddled about with the device.

  “The device, as far as I can tell, is working fine.” Ursula noted.

  “I agree, we need to check the thread.” Marion replied and turned to the now despondent looking Catlin. “Umm, Ms … we, well as far as we can tell there is nothing wrong with the device.”

  “Ok, and so … what does that mean?”

  “It means that we need to check the thread itself, we need to get inside for a look.”

  “OK … so check it.” Catlin replied, looking a little confused. “That’s it there right?”

  “Ms, we need permission to get into the box.” She paused, looking at Catlin as if she should know the answer.

  Catlin, looked back at her wide eyed and shrugged, she didn’t know what to do. “Ok, you have my permission.”

  “It’s not that Ms, it …” Ursula tried to explain.

  “What?”

  “If we are going to fix it then …”

  “What?”

  “We need Samuel,” Marion stepped in. “And his keys dear.”

  - -

  Truck

  Truck sees the anguish in Harrison’s eyes as he looks down on him from above and it gnaws at him inside, threatening his sense of reason. He hated to make the kid feel bad, but his need to protect him overrides any other instincts he had.

  He knows that what he’s about to do will most likely result in his death, he’s already been shot twice in the chest and whatever’s coming through that door was likely to give more hurt.

  He didn’t care about that, he cared about his family.

  Whilst not always blessed with intelligence, Truck knew what his role was. He was the brawn, the mus
cle and the protector in this little family. And now, his family under threat, his protective instincts had switched on. A team of soldiers were hammering down the door and coming in to hurt his family.

  And so, without a moment’s hesitation he turns and charges towards the door, intent on protecting what he loves most, regardless of the outcome for himself.

  He was about halfway towards the door when it was flung open like a mousetrap, at the hands of a battering ram. A man dressed in army fatigues, covered in body armour and who appeared to be the one holding the battering ram stood in the hallway and looked up at the oncoming Truck in surprise.

  In response, a blood curdling bellow emanates deep from within Truck’s lungs, a last war charge. With arms raised high and mouth gaping wide open he let out a scream sounding something like a Viking war cry.

  The soldier looked up in surprise, noticing the oncoming man was massive, armed and very threatening. He quickly realised all he had to defend himself with was a battering ram. It’s enough to cause the soldier by the door to flinch instinctively and retreat backwards in the hope his comrades can deal with the oncoming madman.

  The soldier backs away too quickly though, enough so he loses his footing and falls backward in the hallway. His back slams to the ground and his helmet thumps into the wall of the opposite apartment, the fall and consequent crack to the head knocks the man unconscious instantly.

  One down, four to go. Truck says to himself.

  The other soldiers halt momentarily, but Truck keeps coming on, and seeing the remaining soldiers appear in the doorway only triggers his voice to bellow even louder. He charges, the soldiers raise their rifles and the two are about to meet in some kind of crazy death match when, BOOOOOOOM!

  An explosion erupts in the hallway, exploding upwards and outwards in a deafening, thunderous crack.

  Smoke and dust immediately engulf the hallway and disperse in any direction they can take with ease. Splinters of wood fly and chunks of concrete are hurtled dangerously in every direction. Nearby windows blast outwards as well, the shockwave shattering them into small shards.