Magen turned and looked around. “What do you observe?”
“Um… I don’t know. It got very quiet.”
“Yes. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so…am I missing something?”
“Not necessarily. I felt something in the air. Or I thought I did. An ionizing feeling. Maybe I’m imagining things. You still rolling?”
Jim gave him a thumb’s up.
“I am now going to open the door again, as it is presumed Mr. Dawson did before me. Let’s see what happens.”
Magen reached out and pulled the door open. Jim immediately winced before he could realize what was bombarding his senses. He covered his eyes with the arm that held the iPhone. Slowly, he lowered his arm and things started to make sense. Bright sunlight poured through the open door.
Chapter Eleven
“How are you here?” Dylan asked. After the initial, horrifying shock of seeing the man from the street standing right outside the door, his curiosity had been piqued.
“Thoughts… thoughts are hard,” the man said. “Too far away, and I’m the one. But here I’m almost the other.”
“You know about the store. You knew where to find us. How?”
“Forget that,” Emma said. “How did you not reset? Did the door not work this time?”
Dylan looked over the man’s shoulder. “No, it did. Same cars. Same everything. Only he’s different.”
“I waited so long,” the man said. His eyes were wet with tears. “So long. Until you came. And then the world spun around again and again and again and again.”
“You can see me?” Dylan asked. “You see the store?”
The man shook his head. “I hear you. Your voice carries in the breeze.”
“How?” Dylan asked. “How did you know about us? How do you keep your memories?”
“Not…all,” the man said.
Dylan could see how hard the man was working to be coherent. When he was ten, his great-grandfather had succumbed to Alzheimer’s. In that last year of life, Dylan’s Pawpaw hadn’t known his family nearly ninety percent of the time. But on one visit, when Dylan touched the old man’s hand, Pawpaw had looked at him with some recognition. They had talked, and it had been so close to a normal conversation, except… Pawpaw had been visibly fighting. Every coherent thought and every memory recalled took tremendous effort.
That was what the bum, if that’s what he truly was, was doing now. Fighting to hold on to something tangible and real when whatever had happened to him was trying to strip it all away again.
“Let us talk to you,” Dylan said. He turned to Emma. “Let’s go sit outside with him. He knows something about what’s happened to us.”
“I’m not so sure about this,” Emma said.
“Time is wasting,” the man said. Whether he was replying to Emma or just speaking in general was unclear.
“Come on,” Dylan said. “He can’t get in the store. Let’s just hear him out.”
They walked outside and sat on the curb in front of Helen’s. Emma sat to Dylan’s left, and the man sat to his right, several feet away.
“What do you mean about time wasting?” Dylan asked.
“Time. When the moon is gone, the darkness comes.”
“Does the moon come here? Does nighttime come?”
The man shook his head. “It’s not nighttime you have to worry about. Darkness. Darkness is the problem.” He pointed at the sky, and Dylan and Emma followed the direction of his outstretched hand.
“What the hell?” Dylan said. The bright morning sun was the same as always, but there was a tinge of a deep purple in the sky. Just a hint of color, but he could swear he hadn’t seen anything like that before. Certainly not on their many trips to this day.
“What’s wrong with the sky?” Emma asked.
“Everything is wrong,” the man said. “I can only be here until the darkness comes. Then I’m gone until the darkness is gone. And when I come back it’s always worse.”
“What’s worse?” Dylan asked.
The man poked at his head. “Here. Here. Here. Always worse. Always harder to remember.”
“Did you come through the store like us?” Emma asked.
The man paused, then nodded.
“Who are you?” Dylan asked.
The man began to cry. “Nobody knows my name anymore.”
“Tell us, please,” Emma said.
“Too many voices,” the man said. “I’m Henry Thompson. I lost all my money gambling. And drinking. And blah blah blah. That’s the story that it wants for me.” He pointed at the store.
“Henry? Your name is Henry?” Emma questioned.
“No! Aren’t you listening? Can’t you hear? It made me Henry. It wants me to be Henry. It shouts Henry at me so loudly I can’t hear my real name.”
“What’s your real name?” Dylan asked.
The man bit his lower lip. He tensed and grunted, like he was pushing a heavy weight. “My name… is Clyde!”
“Clyde?” Emma said. “That’s who you are? Who you were before the store?”
The man began to weep again. “Clyde Dawson. God, I haven’t heard my name in so long.” He sounded much more coherent, Dylan thought, but he wondered if that would last.
“When did you come here, Clyde?” Dylan asked.
Again the man grunted. “It was…2017. I had a friend, you know, but the darkness came between us.”
“2017…that’s only a little earlier than when we’re from…it’s 2018 to us. What time of year did you come here?”
Clyde shook his head. “There was no snow. That’s all. Here too, there’s never snow.”
“Well it doesn’t seem like you were gone all that long,” Dylan said. “Some months, maybe. I’m sure not more than a year.”
“It was enough.”
“Yeah,” Dylan acknowledged. “I guess it would be.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Emma asked.
“Not…not very much. I found my way here. I closed the door. And then I couldn’t get it open again. It was gone. And then the darkness came.” He pointed at the faintly purple sky again. “When it left, I was Henry Thompson. And Clyde has slipped further and further away.” He smiled at them, and his eyes shone wet and bright. “You being here has brought me back a little.”
“We haven’t ever closed the door from the outside,” Emma said. “We’ve been careful. But we can’t get home. Every time we close it from inside the store, the whole scene just resets. I guess you know that.”
Clyde nodded.
“What is that like?” Dylan asked. “When we reset everything.”
“Like not remembering falling asleep. One second I’m there.” He pointed across the street. “And the next, I’m there.” He pointed at the corner of the block. “Always there.”
“But not this time,” Emma said. “How did you do that?”
“I felt my mind coming back,” Clyde said. “And I held on to that. I knew the reset was coming, and I thought about you and I thought about the store. And when I came to, I was standing right in front of the building.”
Dylan marveled at how much saner the man sounded as the conversation went on. He hoped that would continue, because they needed all the help they could get. Then again, Clyde couldn’t help himself, could he?
“Have you seen anyone else like us, Clyde?” Dylan asked. “Since you came here. Has there been anyone?”
Clyde began to cry again. Well, there goes that, Dylan thought. He hesitated, then put a hand on the man’s back. “Take your time. This must be very hard.”
“I lost him,” Clyde said. “I lost so many who mattered. But I lost him here. And now it’s always this. Nothing changes.” He looked at them with childlike wonder. “Did you know I tried to kill myself?”
Emma sighed. “We know. We saw you do it.”
“It works, for a time,” Clyde said. “Peaceful, blissful darkness. But then the reset comes and I’m back again. Henry Thompson is back again.�
��
“What happens to us?” Dylan asked. “Why does the darkness matter if we haven’t closed the door?”
Clyde laughed. It was an awful sound, containing no true mirth. “You don’t need to close the door. If the darkness comes there will be no door!” His voice rose to a pitch that was almost a squeak by the end of his sentence. His proclamation complete, Clyde put his chin in his hands and sat silent.
“Clyde,” Emma said, “do you have any idea how we can fix this? We’ve got the door open. There must be a way to help all of us.”
“There are others,” Clyde said. “Others who knew about the moon.”
“Others?” Dylan asked. “How do we find them?”
“They’re all around,” Clyde said. “Others who came here by mistake. Others who came here for other reasons. The darkness has scattered them like so much dust in the breeze. I’m the only one who could stay nearby.”
“And can any of them help us?” Dylan asked.
“No. Nobody helps. Nobody remembers. Look at him.” He pointed at the window to the pharmacy. Dr. Mike was walking by, adjusting something on one of the shelves nearest the window.
“Dr. Mike?” asked Emma. “What about him? We talked to him before and he didn’t seem to know anything.”
“When night comes, if you let time run long enough to let it become night, he’ll do what he does.”
“What does he do?” Emma asked. “Do you know what caused all of this?”
Clyde shrugged. “I’ve tried a few times to get into that back room of his. Never was allowed. And usually I just don’t remember enough to try.”
“So what if we try?” Dylan said. “Maybe we can stop him from doing what he did.”
“I don’t think so,” said Clyde.
“Why not?”
“This…none of this…is what it appears to be. That’s the problem.”
“Clyde, you’re talking in riddles again,” Dylan said. “Can you focus? Please?”
“There’s no answer,” Clyde said. “No answer at all.” He pointed to the sky again. “The darkness is coming. You should go back inside.”
“There’s no way for you to come with us?” Emma asked.
“No way. No way home.”
Clyde wrapped his arms around his legs and began to sob again, muttering, “no way home” over and over.
“He’s slipping away again,” Dylan whispered to Emma. “We need to get moving.”
“Find Jim!” Clyde said suddenly. “Please…find Jim. Please.”
Chapter Twelve
“What the hell?” Jim peered out the door. “It’s daytime. I think this room did something… made the night go by faster, maybe?”
Magen was a few feet outside the store on the sidewalk, turning in circles as he took note of the surroundings. “No,” he said as he turned around. “You need to come here and see this.”
Jim stepped outside. The world seemed normal, but there was definitely something different besides the time of day.
“The stores are different,” Magen said. “The cars. The clothes on those people down there. It’s like a movie set for a 1980’s period piece.” His voice dropped to just above a murmur. “There’s something funny about the color of the sky.”
“So we went back in time,” Jim marveled. “How can that be?”
“How can any of this be?” Magen commented. “Bet you dollars to donuts this is what happened to your friend Clyde.”
“So we’re gone, too? We’re going to be erased from history?” He thought of Liz. Thought of their unborn child. What would happen to them if he was gone? If he’d never existed? Why had he done something so stupid? In that moment, he was filled with rage toward himself. His desire to get Clyde back had pushed him further than he should have gone. So much further.
“I don’t know,” Magen said. “We don’t know anything about anything right now.”
“Morning, gentlemen,” said a voice.
Jim looked toward the store that should have been Galaxi’s but was now Adventure Comics and Games. A man stood in the doorway and raised his hand in greeting.
“I know him,” Magen said in a hushed voice. “Jesus sweet Christ. That’s Roland Gorman.”
Jim returned the man’s wave. “Morning.”
“What brings you guys out here so early?” Roland asked.
“Just on our way to get some coffee,” Magen said.
“Sounds good. I’m expecting one of my most loyal customers.” He looked up the street as a boy came walking down the sidewalk. “And here he is now. Hugo, my boy, you’re more reliable than a pocket watch.”
“Holy shit,” Jim whispered. “Hugo Callahan.”
“Hey, do I know you?” Roland asked Magen.
“I don’t think so, my friend. I get that a lot, though. I’ve got one of those faces.”
Roland studied him with his head tilted. With the enormity of the man’s jowls, he appeared like a confused English bulldog. “Guess you’re right,” he said. “Hugo, come on in. Your box is all filled with the latest arrivals, as always.” He turned and ushered the boy into the store. The door jingled and then there was silence.
“I recognize the store,” Jim said once it was just him and Magen on the sidewalk. “I knew it when it looked like this and when it had this name, but I never went there. I never knew that Roland guy. But Hugo… wow.”
Magen was wide-eyed. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s stranger. Hugo Callahan as a kid or Roland Gorman alive and well.”
“You mean—”
“Died of a heart attack. I want to say it was in the late nineties, or maybe a year or two after that. Sad thing, but you can see he’s not taking great care of himself.”
“He almost recognized you.”
“That’s because I was here many times. I was in my early days on the force back in this time. And a good fifty pounds smaller. Between that and being out of uniform, there’s enough doubt in his mind, but he definitely saw something familiar.”
“Man. So this really is the past. What do we do?”
“Well, if nothing else, we’ve just opened up a whole new avenue in our missing person search. Clyde is here somewhere. I’m sure of it.”
“Did someone say Clyde?” a voice called from the opposite direction of the comic store.
Jim looked and saw a man coming around the corner of the building. He was disheveled and wearing clothes that had almost worn to rags, but it was definitely Clyde Dawson.
“Clyde!” Jim called. “Oh my God, Clyde!”
“Jim?” Clyde asked. His eyes brightened. “Jim! Holy fuck!” He ran to Jim and they embraced. Clyde pulled back with a wince.
“What’s wrong” Magen asked.
“This place. It’s trying to shoehorn another storyline into my head.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jim asked.
“I don’t know,” Clyde said. “I just came to over there and for a moment I thought I was someone else. Henry Thompson.” He looked down. “And I seem to be wearing Henry Thompson’s clothing.”
“How long have you been here?” Jim asked. “What happened to you?”
“I went back to the store,” Clyde said. “I know. I know. I should have left the fucking thing well enough alone like you said. I closed the door, just as I’m guessing you two did.” He turned to Magen and extended his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m…” He winced again. “I’m Clyde Dawson.”
Magen shook Clyde’s hand. “Detective Bruce Magen. I’ve been investigating your disappearance, Mr. Dawson.”
Clyde nodded. “Yeah. I figured everyone would be looking for me.” He turned to Jim. “Is Nancy okay? Shit, she must be worried sick!”
Jim sighed. “Clyde… man. I don’t know how to explain this.”
Panic flashed in Clyde’s eyes. “What? What is it? Is something wrong with Nancy? Did something happen?”
Jim shook his head. “Not to Nancy. At first you were just missing. Then, suddenly, you were gone. And only I r
emembered you ever existing. I’m so sorry, man. I don’t know how a person is supposed to take news like that.”
Clyde slumped against the wall. “Fuck. Fuck. I really shit this whole thing up, didn’t I?”
“I want to hear all about what happened,” Magen said, “but right now let’s get you home. Come on back to the store.”
They walked over to what Jim saw was an active pharmacy, with two large windows. The door to the abandoned store stood open in the middle, blocking the pharmacy’s real door.
“You didn’t shut the door, did you?” Clyde asked.
“No,” Jim said, “it’s right there in the middle. See?”
“No. I can’t see the store,” Clyde said. “Not the one you can see. And none of us can go home.”
“What do you mean?” Jim asked.
“When I got here I tried to go back, but there wasn’t any going back. If you go back in the store and shut the door it will just open up to this morning again. Total Groundhog Day experience.”
Jim felt another pang of anger as any hope that there might be an easy way out evaporated.
“Once I realized I couldn’t go back,” Clyde continued, “I decided to do some exploring. For some reason I can’t explain, I shut the door.”
“What happened then?” Magen asked.
“I don’t know,” Clyde said. “Maybe I fell asleep? Or blacked out. I remember the door clicking shut and then I woke up on the street corner with that name blaring in my head. Henry Thompson.”
“Shutting the door must have been what erased you from history,” Magen said. “Jesus.”
“And now you can’t see it?” Jim asked.
“No,” Clyde said. “Don’t you see what this is? I’m part of this world now. It’s assimilated me.”
“Not yet it hasn’t,” Jim said. “I don’t give a fuck who this Henry Thompson is that it wants you to be. You know who you really are. We’re going to all get out of here.”
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