Time Loop

by Jill Cooper

But to give Rex what he wants, to let him study my brain further, I can’t give him the satisfaction. I’ve already given him too much. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t give in.

  Not yet.

  Not without a plan.

  I can’t trust anything anymore except the clock. The hands are normal. There not spinning backward. And that means I’m in real life. Even though it breaks my heart, at least it’s real.

  “Satisfied?” Rex asks, hands clasped in front of him.

  I nod but keep my head low so he can’t see my tears. My shoulders rock in silent sobs, but I’m not ready to stare defeat in the face.

  “What do you say now, Lara?”

  I take a shaky breath. My fists clench and when I’m sure I can talk with strength, I answer. I don’t know how much time has gone by, but Rex stands patiently as if we have all the time in the world, because we do. We can spend the next ten years doing this and he wouldn’t care. But inside I’m going to fall apart, like a house of cards. “Can I have green Jell-O next time?”

  When I look up, there are two armed guards staring at me with dead eyes.

  “Plug. Her. Back. In.” Rex walks away, his feet beating a fast tempo. Angry. That, at least, pleases me. It’s the only thing that can anymore.

  It’s all I have.

  I scream as the doorway opens into the glass cage that’s now my home. It’s where I spent my last Christmas. My last birthday. Backing away, I bump into my bed. They grab my arms. It doesn’t matter how much I kick and scream. In the end, the taser jolts against my skin and my body goes limp in their arms.

  Shuddering, I can’t fight them anymore as they lay me in the bed. All I can do is stare at their faces as they strap the machine back up to me. I think I might be drooling. One of them wipes my face and whispers.

  “Hang in there, Lara.”

  It’s Delilah. Mom’s old assistant at Rewind. Do I have a friend on the inside or is she simply a familiar face used to control me?

  My back arches and my vision lights up. I’m unable to answer my own questions as I’m traveling fast through a canal, straight into my own virtual reality.

  Chapter Three

  “You can go in, to see him.”

  My eyes snap open. Groggy, I wipe the sleep from my eyes. I expect to be home, but I’m in a white, sterile room with plush carpets. The air is cold, too cold. Glancing down, I notice I’m in trousers and a white blouse, too fancy for regular clothes.

  “Mom?” I turn to her. She grips my hand and there are tears in her eyes. Behind her, I see a white pedestal with a bouquet of flowers, white orchids, and baby’s breath. The room is serene. Peaceful.

  I’m in a funeral home.

  My breath catches in my throat and I gargle with a sob. She catches my cheek and nuzzles my face. Her hand is warm; her hug is tight. All of it feels so real, but I know in my heart of hearts it isn’t. It doesn’t matter what I say or do. I can’t get out of this place. I can only endure it. Nothing I do will matter.

  But still, I’m heartbroken. The emotion is real even if I tell myself it’s a lie. My mind knows something my heart cannot be taught, no matter how much I try.

  “I can’t go in there.”

  “You have to say goodbye, Lara. If you don’t…” Her eyes hold pain. It’s as real as I am. But I can’t trust her. She is there, as is everyone else, to convince me to do Rex’s bidding. I might as well be cuddling the monster that put me here.

  I walk away from her, but there’s nowhere to hide. There’s nowhere I can go that Rex can’t find me, where he can’t see what I’m doing or feeling. He will manipulate every thought, every decision I make. A rat trapped in a maze has a better chance of escaping than I do. The sinking feeling in my gut, I can’t escape.

  So, I go into the next room. There are rows of empty chairs and, at the end, a shiny, brown casket.

  I know who’s in it, but I go anyway. I go until I am close enough to see the hairs on his hand. He’s not real. He’s been dead for almost a year, but still, when I look at Donovan’s face, I crumble. My fingers grip the edge of the casket. It’s soft, smooth, and cold. Feels exactly as one would expect.

  The longer I am here, the more I accept it as my reality. The longer I am here, the more lost I become.

  “Don.” I grit my teeth to stop the painful tears from falling, but they don’t listen to me. When have they?

  My arms quake under the strain and I lean down. My lips brush up against his. Cold. Dank. Everything about this is wrong. I curse him. I curse Rex.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Sorry for all of it. “I wish I had never gone back in time. I wish it had never happened.”

  “I’m sorry.” I fall against him and my vision begins to swirl. I am two steps from traveling back. From doing it all again.

  Snapping upright, I wipe my tears away and force myself into the present. I refuse to give Rex more insight into my ability to time travel. This world is a dizzy mess. My feet wobble and my legs give out on me as I turn from the casket.

  As I fall to the ground, someone catches me. I grip his forearms and a moan escapes me. His shaven face is just the one I need to see. “Dad.”

  He pulls me in and I sob even before my head rests against his chest. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. His arms are like a giant bear’s and I am warm and safe against him. The world slips away, thanks to him, just as he’s done countless times. Even if I am the only one who remembers.

  I threw it away without a second’s thought because I wanted Mom back.

  And now I’m left with nothing.

  *****

  My room is packed into boxes. Only one box left open. I place a picture of Donovan on top. The frame is pearls and glitz. I stare at it a long time and feel empty. I close the box and tape it up, never escaping the dread mounting in the pit of my stomach.

  I toss the spool of tape onto the bed as there’s a knock. Mom, her face grim, is standing in the doorway. Her arms cross against her cozy, pink sweater. “Everything’s done?”

  She tries to keep the tremor out of her voice, but she doesn’t want to move any more than I do, but with Jax losing most of his money, we aren’t left with much of a choice. Rex is turning the screws on me to force my hand.

  Tucking my hair behind my ears, I nod. “Are the movers here?”

  “Not yet.” Mom’s eyebrows rise for a brief moment and then she sighs. I stand beside her, following her eyes. She gazes off into the hall. There are nails in the wall where photos use to hang. “I really don’t want to go down there.”

  Down there and see Jax she means. My mind fills in her complete thought. “He loves you. He loves all of us.”

  “I know.” Tears glisten in her eyes and the lines on her face are much deeper, more pronounced than they were last year. “I think it’d be easier if he didn’t. If I could hate him.”

  I squeeze her arm. “He made a mistake. He’s trying. You both are. Maybe that’s enough.”

  She nods and her chin trembles, barely holding together. “And you? How are you?” Mom strokes my chin.

  “About as good as you are,” I say and we both laugh. Mom puts her arm around me and we head out to the hall.

  Mike and Molly, my young siblings, run by. Molly stops and smiles at me; I smile back. She’s safe. She’s all right. That makes everything worth it.

  Except it’s all a lie.

  She’s not safe. None of us are. I’m not here; I’m stuck in a lab.

  I hold my breath as I think about Rex, about what he is trying to get me to do. But I can’t. I won’t. I refuse.

  I’m Lara Crane. I can beat Rex. Once I figure out how to do it.

  ****

  The truck is filled and it’s time to get on the road. I make sure Mike and Molly are strapped into the back of the car, their seatbelts secure. They munch on crackers for snacks and they have the juice they need.

  My eyes lock with Molly’s. Hers are soft and serene. “I’m okay. Thanks, Lara.” There are cheddar
flakes on her fingers, clinging to her lips.

  I close the door and squeeze my eyes closed. Molly has been trying to make me feel better ever since we got out of the lab. I hate that she feels the need to do that, and I feel guilty.

  So guilty.

  Mom and Jax embrace awkwardly in front of me beside the truck. Some contact is better than nothing, I guess. When they see me, they pull apart. The breadth of the Grand Canyon opens between them.

  “We’re getting ready to go.” Jax hands me the car keys.

  I look at them, folding them over in my hand. “You’re sure about this? They’re precious cargo, right?” I glance back at the car. The kids inside are talking, laughing. My heart soars, despite everything else going on.

  “They’re safer with you than anyone.” The truth darkens Jax’s eyes. I wish he’d start to forgive himself.

  Instead of saying that, I make a fist around the keys. “I’ll drive safe. I promise. See you in forty minutes, right?”

  He kisses the top of my head and hugs me. I squeeze in close and my face mashes against his dress shirt. I wish everything could go back to how it was before, but it can’t.

  “Watch for stop signs,” Mom says and they head to the truck. They might as well not even be in the same room. They don’t say anything to each other. Their hands are almost close enough to touch, but they never do.

  Fighting for their marriage or going through the motions; I don’t know which they’re doing. But I want them to make it. Part of me needs them to; it would at least give me hope. I pull into the car, attach my seatbelt, and start the engine. In front of me, the truck’s brake lights go off and it inches forward.

  I turn on my signal light, do a shoulder check and let out a deep breath. Nervous butterflies slam in my gut.

  Here goes nothing.

  ****

  Light rain patters against the window. Soft rock music permeates the front of the car and in the back, the light chorus of Molly’s favorite movie. It’s punctuated by their giggles. I should be relaxed, but instead, I grip the steering wheel.

  We’re coming up on heavy traffic. The semi-truck in front of me squeals as it comes to a complete stop. I ease up on the gas and tap the brake to a stop. Bumper to bumper traffic makes me nervous and I’m hyper aware so I don’t make a mistake. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror. The blue sedan behind us jerks, slamming on his brakes.

  My heart skips a beat, but we’re safe. He didn’t hit us.

  So why am I so nervous?

  It’s like this for several miles, but finally, traffic lets up and we’re coasting along, curving left with the road. I increase the volume on the music and for a split second relax. My lungs fill with a serene breath and a sigh of relief washes over me.

  “Hey kids, want to stop at the McDonald’s drive through? Who’s hungry?”

  A chorus of cheers erupts in the backseat and the rearview mirror is filled with fists thrust in the air. I grin and turn my signal light on to take the next exit at a rest stop. The kids aren’t the only ones who are hungry. McDonald’s isn’t a healthy choice, but the thought of the crispy, hot fries—heavily salted, of course—is too much for me to resist.

  POP

  The steering wheel jerks out of my hand. My heart is lodged in my throat. The car drifts sharply to the right, toward the embankment. My foot slams the brake down and I jerk the steering wheel.

  Screams come from the backseat. There’s no time to reassure them as another POP comes from beneath the car. Billows of smoke waft across the windshield. I can’t see anything, but my stomach is freefalling. My head slams into the ceiling as shards of glass rain toward me like hyperspace dust in Star Wars.

  The car flips. It skids across the pavement on its roof. My body crunches beneath the steering column. The screams in the backseat taper off.

  My vision blurs. It doubles and then separates. Groaning, I fumble with my seat belt even though my fingers scream in pain. Cut and bloody, I fight against the urge to scream. Throwing my head back, I can’t see anything in the back except for feet.

  “Molly? Mike!” I scream and try to reach back, but my shoulder radiates pain.

  The seatbelt comes free and I crawl through my open window. My legs shake. Every part of me wobbles. Someone is there and grabs my arms and helps me up. I don’t see his face, but I scream, “My brother and sister are in there!”

  Police sirens inch closer. The Good Samaritan pulls Mike from the car. I fight with Molly’s door and then the seatbelt that keeps her strapped into her booster seat. “Molly!” I scream, paying no attention to her bruised face. The stillness of her body. The stifled breath she takes.

  Finally, I heft her out, her small body limp in my arms. I make it a few feet before my body can’t take anymore. My knees drop to the ditch and I cradle her close, like a newborn baby. Gritting my teeth, I grip her. The pain in my heart is so intense I can’t say anything.

  Molly’s hand touches my face, strokes my hair back. She doesn’t say anything. Her eyes never open.

  I can’t do anything but hold her and fight the waves of pain coming at me in droves.

  Damn you, Rex.

  *****

  The front tires blew out.

  That’s the news that came from the police as I sat in the waiting room of the hospital, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. The only thing that will help me is to hear from the doctor that Molly will be all right. I can’t handle losing her. Not after Donovan. Not after everything else I’ve been through.

  Mom holds my hand. I know she’s trying to be strong, but every once in a while her shoulders rock in sobs. She still has me. She still has Mike, but the loss of Molly—sweet Molly—would be too much to bear. I know this and so does Jax, who barely looks at us.

  I watch him as he paces the hall and then leans his head against the wall. So much pain and so much suffering, because of my choices. I need to find a way to fix it, but I don’t know how.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Mom said. “Those tires were going to blow out, no matter who was driving.”

  “I braked.” My eyebrows knit together. “I learned in driving school not to brake. Accelerate, coast, gradually slow down as you move to the side of the road. I—” my voice wavers “—I panicked.”

  “Anyone would.” Mom believes what she’s saying, I can hear it in her voice, but that doesn’t give me a free pass on my guilt.

  And when I see the doctor coming, a wail of despair builds in the pit of my stomach. His lips are drawn together, down in something that isn’t a pout. It’s resolute. As if he’s steeling himself to do something he doesn’t want to do.

  We both rise from our seats. Mom grips my hand as Jax comes over to us. “Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery.” The doctor says the words with such sorrow, such pity; I don’t need to hear what he’s going to say next.

  Molly’s not going to get better. She’s dead. Or dying. Kids shouldn’t be able to just up and suffer like this.

  I zone out. My mind drifts to anywhere but here. The hole inside me grows, gets so big it could swallow me alive. But I can’t block out Mom’s sobs. When she falls against me, barely able to hold herself up, I grab her. I hug her close and we both fall to the floor. She pulls me back to the stark, cold reality of this world and there’s nothing I can say to make it better.

  But do? There’s one thing I can do to end it all.

  ****

  Turns out Molly isn’t dead, but she’s on life support and is never going to wake up. Her brain isn’t going to recover. Vegetable. Brain dead. It all sounds exactly the same. It’s all doctor mumbo jumbo that says the same thing.

  You’re never going to talk to your sister again. See her play. The life you had is over. Again. I don’t know how much more of it I can take.

  I stand at her bedside and hold her hand. I stroke her fingers. The room is a series of beeps and whooshes of air, everything designed to keep Molly alive while our parents try to find the strength to make the right decision.

 
To let her go.

  But can I? I’m Lara Crane. When have I ever given up without a fight?

  “Should I go back and save you?” I whisper against her ear. “Do I go back and save you even though none of this is real?”

  Because it feels real. If this is the place where I can start to build a future, how can I let Molly go?

  I start from the sound of something being placed beside me. A nurse smiles at me as she adjusts a bouquet of flowers. “These were just brought by delivery.”

  Delivery? Who else knew we were here?

  Lilies and pink carnations aren’t exactly standard get-well flowers, but they’re pretty. I slide the card out of the envelope and unfold it. My eyes scan it and my temperature boils.

  What are you waiting for? Why don’t you save poor little Molly? –Rex

  I bite my lip and throw the card into the trash, storming out of the room. Not sure where I’m going, or what I’m going to do, I round the corridor. Running on fumes, the adrenaline pushes my legs on. I want to run. I want to start going and never stop.

  Instead, I see Jax talking to two police officers and it steadies my nerves. I get close and then slow down to hear them apologize.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Montgomery, to tell you like this. We thought it would be best—”

  Jax holds up his hand. His wedding ring is still on his finger. There was still hope the marriage could be saved, until today. This will ruin everything. “We can’t tell my wife. Not yet. If she knew it wasn’t an accident—”

  The police move on and my voice trembles. “What? What wasn’t an accident?”

  He pivots toward me and his eyes are sorrowful. “Lara, what are you—”

  “—Answer the question.” My voice is soft but sturdy. “Jax, please…”

  “Your tires.” His hands smooth my shoulders, as if somehow that will make everything better. “Your tires didn’t blow out. They were shot out.”

  My eyes widen. “What? Why? Why would someone want to hurt Molly?” Then it hits me. Molly wasn’t supposed to be hurt. I was. “The senator?” Tears invade my vision and they refuse to leave. “I already testified. They already shot Donovan, but they aren’t going to give up, are they? They’re going to keep coming until they win.”