by Tim O'Rourke
“Is that a good thing?” Annora asked.
He stared at her. “No, that’s a very, very bad thing.”
“Why?”
With his eyes still fixed on her, Noah said, “Because the layers chose you to stop a war. Your future self becomes a Temporal Officer. You are partnered with another young Officer by the name of Karl Potter. You were meant to fall in love, live happily ever after, and all that old romantic stuff, once you had stopped the vampires and werewolves from killing all the humans.”
For the first time since being pushed back to 1973, there was a part of Annora that started to believe everything she was seeing and hearing. She could remember wanting to call for some kind of back-up by way of something called a comlink when Nik Seth had been attacking her. Had there been a part of her that had wanted to instinctively call for Karl Potter? She had wanted to reach for a gun, even though she had never carried one or used one. Perhaps she hadn’t in 1973 nor in 2018, but maybe she once had in the year 2067?
“Do Temporal Officers carry guns? Do they use devices called comlinks in 2067?” Annora asked.
“I believe so.”
“So those werewolves I saw tonight at the Night Diner were real and not some hallucination?” Annora said.
“You saw werewolves?” Noah gasped. Then slapping his forehead with his hands, he added, “Of course you did. I keep forgetting that this isn’t 2018 or 2067. It’s 1973.”
“Is that important?”
“Yes it’s important,” Noah snapped as if she should have already known this. “That Night Diner is where the werewolves started their uprising against the humans. It’s where they joined forces with their ancient enemies, the vampires, and waged war on the human race. Soon after you left 2018, the vampires and werewolves finally came out of hiding and unleashed their supernatural abilities on the humans. There was a Third War, which the humans narrowly won. But that war reignites in 2067. You and Karl Potter were meant to be at the heart of it. You were meant to stop it. But how can that happen if he’s there and you’re here?”
“Can’t I just go back to that diner when it’s closed, creep in, and put another token in the jukebox and travel forward?” Annora asked, not sure that she really did want to head back to the Night Diner. But if Noah went with her, perhaps…
“You told me that you saw werewolves,” Noah said, cutting into her thoughts. “Did they see you?”
“One of them attacked me.”
Noah looked startled. “What was his name?”
“Seth?”
Noah grew ever more shocked. Scared. “Was his first name Jack?” Noah shook his head. “No, it couldn’t have been Jack you met, or you wouldn’t be standing here now. You’d be dead already. You must have met his younger brother, Nik.”
“You mean that psycho, Nik Seth, has a brother?”
“Oh, yes,” Noah said with a grim nod of his head. “You were lucky you met the brother, whose murder count is still below a hundred. I’ve lost count at how many people Jack Seth has butchered. So, in answer to your question, no we can’t go back to the Night Diner. It’s way too dangerous—”
Noah stopped mid-sentence. With eyes wide, he stared straight at Annora.
“What?” she asked him.
“How did you escape one of the Seth brothers?”
“I used that umbrella,” she said, gesturing to it where it lay on the table.
“That umbrella wouldn’t have stopped Nik Seth,” Noah said. “He must have wanted you to escape.”
“Why?”
“Because perhaps they know that I’m trying to thwart the werewolves’ plan—trying to stop the war that is going to rip apart the year 2067,” Noah said. “Perhaps they were hoping that if they let you escape, you would lead the wolves to me—”
“Impossible,” Annora cut in. “They couldn’t have followed me, they were on foot and I was in the car. I easily out ran…”
Before Annora had a chance to finish her sentence, the front door began to splinter inwards. Noah ran into the hallway, Annora at his heels, umbrella in hand. Both stood and stared in horror as several pairs of jagged claws began to tear down the front door. From outside in the darkness, they heard the sound of wolves howling.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The year 2067…
“Who’s there?” Karl said, leaping to his feet and aiming the torchlight into the darkness.
A robed figure came rushing forward at him. Whoever it was hid their face behind a low-hanging hood and long, black, flowing robes. The stranger rushed at speed toward him. Karl instinctively took a step back toward the open doorway.
“Keep back! Stop!” Karl ordered, reaching inside his jacket with his free hand for his gun.
But as he did so, the hooded figure reached out with two gloved hands, striking Karl in the chest. The stranger hit him with such force, he flew backwards out of the doorway. With his feet lifting up off the ground, Karl toppled over the railings that ran parallel with the unsteady walkway outside the apartments. With his free hand, he gripped the railing as his lower body dangled precariously over the edge of the walkway above Outpost 71.
Karl glanced over his shoulder and down at the street. He could hear the distant sound of traffic over the steady hiss of rain and driving wind. The railing he gripped was slick and wet and his fingers began to come loose. Looking up, and placing his comlink into his jacket pocket, he gripped the railing he was hanging from with both hands. Gritting his teeth, Karl tried to pull himself up to safety. And as he did so, he saw the stranger who had struck him come running out onto the gangway. From beneath the hood covering their face, the stranger shot a quick glance at him before racing away.
“Hey, you, come back here!” Karl hollered, although he knew he was wasting his breath as the stranger tried to escape.
Using all of his strength, Karl hoisted himself up over the railing, and then dropped down onto the unsteady walkway. Wasting no time, he reached into his jacket, pulling out his gun. Taking aim at the retreating figure, he hollered once more.
“Stop! Temporal Officer!”
The stranger glanced back just once from beneath their hood, before racing away again.
“Sonofabitch,” Karl muttered under his breath before setting off as fast as he dare along the unsteady walkway in pursuit of his attacker.
He knew if the stranger reached the elevator first, then they would make good their escape. But much to Karl’s surprise and disbelief, his attacker didn’t head into the elevator, but climbed at speed up the front of one of the shipping containers and onto its roof. Standing in the torrential downpour, the figure looked down at him, black cloak billowing in the wind and rain. It was as if the stranger was taunting him, daring him to climb up onto the top of the crates. Coming to a sudden stop, Karl pointed upwards, taking aim with his gun at the stranger.
“Don’t make me shoot you,” Karl shouted, screwing his eyes into slits against the rain as he took aim.
But before he could fire off a warning shot to prove to the stranger that he would shoot if he had to, the figure turned and set off again. Karl stood dumbstruck and somewhat in awe as he watched the fleeting stranger race at speed across the tops of the giant shipping crates.
“What the fuck?” he groaned in disbelief. “Are they out of their mind?”
But however reckless the stranger’s attempted escape might be, Karl knew he couldn’t risk letting them get away from him. He needed to find out who his attacker was, but more importantly what they had been doing hiding in Lucy May’s apartment. Were they one of the figures he had seen just before he blacked out in the crate the night before? Was the person who was now racing away at speed across the tops of the shipping crates the person who had murdered Lucy May? He would never find out if he didn’t catch them.
Holstering his gun once more, Karl began to climb the scaffolding, which led up onto the roof of the shipping crates. The wind and rain drove hard into him, and his hands slid along the length of the poles as he
tried to climb them. Several times the heels of his boots slipped and he cried out as he nearly lost his balance. Wrapping his arms tight about the scaffolding, as if giving them the tightest of bear hugs, he looked down over his shoulder at the outpost way below. His heart leapt up into his throat as he contemplated the dangerous and reckless act he was committing. He knew that should he fall, he would certainly die as his skull and body dashed against the pavement below.
Taking a deep breath, then swallowing hard, Karl continued his climb up the slippery scaffolding. Placing one hand over the other, he pulled himself up onto the roof of the shipping crate. Standing tall, and reaching into his jacket for his gun once more, he watched the stranger continue to race away. The sound of his boots echoed off the metal crates as he started to run. Just ahead, he saw the figure leap up into the air. They moved with a grace and speed that was feline-like. And it was only as Karl grew closer that he could see that the stranger was now leaping and bounding at speed so as to make the jump between the towering blocks of shipping crates.
Pin-wheeling his arms, Karl came to a sudden and teetering stop at the very edge of a crate. The shipping crates he had been racing across had come to an end. The next makeshift apartment block stood some ten or fifteen feet away in the air. Although the stranger had managed to jump across the gap in one swift leap, Karl knew he would not be able to achieve such a feat. The distance between the two apartment blocks was too great for him to jump. How the stranger had managed to do so, Karl had no idea. With his gun in his fist, dark hair plastered to his face with rain, Karl stood and glared across the gap at the stranger who now stood on the roof of the adjacent shipping crate and out of his reach.
With robes fluttering all about him like wings, the stranger stopped and turned to face Karl.
“Who are you? What were you doing in Lucy May’s apartment?” Karl shouted across the gap.
Without providing an answer to his questions, his attacker simply turned and raced away across the roofs of the makeshift apartment blocks.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The year 1973…
“We need to get out of here—and fast,” Noah said, grabbing hold of Annora’s hand and running to the foot of the stairs.
As they raced up the staircase, Annora looked back over her shoulder. The front door was bowing inwards and shaking in its frame. Jagged claws split the wood as if it were little more than tissue paper. Splinters flew into the hallway. The sound of wolves howling was almost deafening.
“Faster!” Noah yelled as he dragged Annora onto the landing. Still holding her by the hand, he raced toward a door at the far end. He kicked it open, pulling her inside. “Shut the door!”
Still holding the umbrella in one hand, she slammed the door closed with the other, shutting out the terrifying sound of the front door caving in. With her back pressed flat against the bedroom door she looked about the room. There was a window set into the far wall. Blue moonlight shone through it. Annora could see a bed, desk, and a shelf stacked with books. In the far corner there was a large wardrobe. Noah raced toward it and threw open the door. At once he began to undress.
“What are you doing?” Annora gasped.
Standing with his trousers about his ankles and shirt open down the front, he looked back at Annora. “I suggest you don’t look. You might not like what you see.”
“What are you talking about…?”
“Turn away now!” Noah ordered her.
She did as he commanded, pressing her front against the door. Even though she had her back to him, she closed her eyes. Her heart raced as she heard the sound of heavy footfalls coming up the stairs. Whatever you’re doing, Noah, please hurry up, she screamed inside. From over her shoulder she could hear the sound of coat hangers jangling together. But there was another sound, too. It sounded like some kind of moist fabric being stretched and torn. The disturbing noise didn’t last long, and once more it was the sound of the werewolves racing up the staircase that demanded her full attention.
“Whatever it is you’re doing, please hurry,” she begged Noah.
“Okay, you can turn around now,” he said, sounding a little out of breath.
Opening her eyes, Annora spun around. She cried out in shock at the dark-skinned stranger who now stood by the wardrobe. His hair was black and curly, he was in his mid-forties, and incredibly handsome. The stranger wore a dusty blue railwayman’s uniform. In his hands he held a blue peaked cap.
“Who are you?” Annora gasped, inching back against the door, where the sounds of the werewolves made her heart race faster. “Where’s Noah gone? Has he gone into the wardrobe? Is there a Narnia-thing going on here?”
“I’m still Noah,” he said, “I just have a different face—that’s all. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“One of many,” Annora whispered to herself, remembering what Noah had told her in the kitchen. She stared at him wide-eyed.
“Exactly,” Noah said, reaching for her again.
He grabbed her by the hand, pulling her into his arms. As he did so, the bedroom door flew inwards. Both Noah and Annora looked back. She recognised Nik Seth at once. But he was now in the company of another. His companion was freakishly tall. So tall that he had to stoop forward at the waist so he could pass under the doorframe and enter the bedroom. But it wasn’t just the man’s height that was unnatural. He was painfully thin. He was so emaciated that his flesh was drawn tight over his high cheekbones and narrow skull. His face was covered in a crisscross pattern of scars. His eyes that blazed like fire sat in two sunken sockets. He wore a red bandanna about his scrawny throat, and a blue baseball cap on his head. The sleeves of the denim shirt he wore were rolled to the elbows. Annora cringed when she saw that the thin flesh that covered his bony arms was cut open in several places. But it wasn’t blood that leaked from the cuts, but bristling black fur.
The freakishly tall man came into the room, Nik at his side. He paid Annora little attention as he came slowly forward, his blazing eyes fixed on Noah. Annora felt Noah’s arms tighten about her waist. Although she welcomed his protective embrace, she had no idea how they would make their escape.
The man’s face twisted up into a cruel smile as he looked at Noah. “I might have known you were meddling in the background. Trying to fuck up our plans. But no more, railwayman. You’ve made your last push.”
Both Nik and the stranger shot forward. As they did, Noah tightened his grip on Annora.
“Goodbye, Jack Seth.” Noah smiled before lifting Annora off her feet, swooping her up into his arms and crashing through the bedroom window and out into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The year 2067…
Cursing to himself, Karl took great care to climb down from the top of the shipping crate and onto the walkway once more. Yanking open the elevator door, he climbed inside, and travelled back down to street level. He was annoyed that the stranger had gotten away. Not only because he had been unable to identify who it was, and not only because they had been skulking about in Lucy May’s apartment, but the stranger had also nearly killed him. It was only as he reached street level, that it began to dawn on him how close he had come to falling as he had dangled from the scaffolding high above.
Karl stepped out of the elevator and made his way back onto the street. His nerves jangled as he glanced up at the mountain of shipping crates that towered high above him. The thought of falling from such a great height left him feeling somewhat unnerved. The rain continued to bounce off the pavement as he made his way toward a nearby stall where food was being cooked by a street seller. Karl knew that not only did he need to spend a few minutes calming his frayed nerves, he needed to eat, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything substantial, and his stomach was rumbling as much as his nerves were jangling.
Brushing past the bedraggled-looking people gathered about the stall, Karl stood and watched the chef, if that’s what he was, stir and then toss the noodles that simmered in the giant p
an before him. Steam rose up from the pan, filling the surrounding air with the smell of herbs, spices, and fish.
With his stomach somersaulting in response to the mouth-watering smells, Karl looked at the chef and pointed into the pan. “Give me some of that.”
The gaunt-looking chef plucked some of the freshly fried noodles out of the pan with a pair of metal tongs. He piled them into a cardboard container where they sat like a steaming pile of yellow worms.
“That will be two credits,” the chef said, holding out one bony hand.
“Thanks,” Karl said, taking the pot of noodles after dropping two credits into the seller’s palm.
Plucking up a set of chopsticks from the counter, Karl then began to fork the noodles into his mouth. As he began to chew, he looked at the chef and said, “I don’t suppose you know where the Temporal Station is around here, do you?”
“That way,” the chef said, jabbing one thumb over his shoulder, back along the street in the opposite direction Karl had come into the outpost.
“Thanks,” Karl said, stepping away from the stall before shovelling more of the hot noodles into his mouth.
He headed in the direction that the food seller had pointed and it wasn’t long before Karl came across a building with the familiar crest of the Temporal Officers above the door. Just like many of the other buildings in Outpost 71, the Temporal Station looked worn, and tired, and in need of a fresh coat of paint. The brickwork was grey, the wooden front door black and worn. It was unlike the giant glass and metal structure that was the Temporal Station in London City. There were no bright lights shining from within—in fact, if Karl hadn’t been looking for the office, he suspected he could have easily passed it by, as it was so nondescript. There was no bay of patrol vehicles parked outside, nor was there the hustle and bustle of Temporal Officers coming to and from the building. In fact, this Temporal Station looked as if it was completely deserted. Despite Sargent Clio Shaw telling Karl to turn up for duty later that night, he found it hard to believe that there wouldn’t be a dayshift out on patrol or working inside the building.