by SJ Davis
“Here,” said Charley. “Go in quickly.”
Caroline glanced at Anson. His face was blank; his pale eyes were wet in the corners and his lips hung as if they were no longer connected to the muscles of his face.
“Here?” asked Caroline. “What will we do with him?”
“We’ll keep him here with us, in this brave new world of his.”
Charley gently rapped against the windowpane of the building’s office manager. From behind the glass, a kindly slender woman smiled. She whispered in a quiet Belgian accent. “Yes,” she breathed through a small hole in the glass into the foyer. “May I help you?”
“Hi again, Ericka,” Charley spoke slowly and lifted his wide brimmed hat. “I lived in one of your rooms here a few years back. I need to rent another.”
“Oh yes, Charley,” purred Ericka. “Of course. For you I have a room down here next to mine.”
Charley smiled. “Not for me. For my friend.”
“But your friend looks dead.” She peered around the wooden shutters behind the glass at Anson. “Or do you mean that child with you?” She looked at Caroline through narrowed eyes. Ericka’s torso seemed to shimmer in the greenish light of the foyer and a large surgical scar ran down the center of her chest where her cleavage should be. She reached into a large jar of Vaseline and smeared it on her neck.
“Both. For just a few days.”
“I’m not living with him,” whispered Caroline. The hiss of her voice carried up the stairs though she maintained a controlled demeanor and polite smile.
Charley gave her a quick nudge with his toe as he readjusted the weight of Anson over his back.
“Is Omni going to be a problem if I let you stay?” challenged Ericka, warily eyeing Anson.
“No ma’am,” promised Charley. His Southern drawl a contrast to her softer European tone.
She sighed. “Upstairs. They can have the loft. But you can still have the room next to mine.”
Charley seemed to redden as he pulled Anson up again. “Thanks for the offer, honey. But I have my own spot at the pawnshop. Come by sometime.”
Ericka slid a key through a groove in the wooden counter where it met the glass. She also slid a small and antiqued brass gun, ivory handled, a relic from the Old West, to Caroline. “You never know,” she added. “But don’t check out without returning it. It’s an old family treasure.”
Caroline grabbed the key and the gun with her gloved hand and tucked it in her jacket pocket.
“You have burns?” Ericka asked Caroline.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re covered from head to toe with clothing. It’s interesting.”
“She’s fine, no burns,” answered Charley. “Thanks.” He nodded towards the concrete stairs. The wooden handrail lay on the floor. “Looks like you need a little maintenance, Ericka.” He kicked the rail to a sidewall. “It’s dangerous in here.”
“Feel free to be my handyman,” she smiled. “I will be in my apartments.” She pushed a button and black curtains drew together behind the glass, like the end of a puppet show. “I’ll be waiting.”
Charley shook his head. His hair curled around his collar and it hung over his eyes. His chin had grown a shadow of scruff. Charley put his arms under Anson’s. “Grab his feet. I’ll go up first.”
“I can’t have anyone dying here,” called Ericka from behind the black curtain. “Keep your old man alive or get rid of him.” She turned the lights on for the staircase but the foyer became dark.
Caroline bent and lifted Anson’s dragging lower body while each step creaked underneath her feet.
“Is he going to live?”
“He’ll wake up soon. He just needs to sweat out the toxin. Bodhi was coming around and he bore the brunt of the poison.”
“God only knows what Francesca is administering to him now.” Caroline wiped the hair from her brow.
“He’s in good hands.”
The walked up the stairs in silence and rested Anson’s unconscious body on the landing.
“Which room?” Charley asked as he looked at the four solid wood doors around them. Dry cat foot was scattered across the frayed doormat, which read, ‘I Can See Your Balls.’
Caroline dropped Anson’s feet with a thud. She noticed with curiosity that his ankles had begun to swell like pink sausages over his socks. Outside the apartment, the sound of whistling and applause could be heard. She peeked outside as she felt for the key, but the crowd instantly vanished under the awnings.
“Number 402,” she said, rubbing her lower back.
“Open the door, I can drag him in from here.” Anson’s forehead began to bead with sweat and he sputtered a confused babble. His facial muscles tightened as his mouth clenched. He shivered from under his damp trench coat. “Hurry up. Let’s get him in.”
“Why did you want to bring him here? We could have left him at Francesca’s for his care.”
“Sometimes revenge is healing.”
“Would you care to explain?”
“Soon. Soon. Let’s get him inside. Help me open this door, it’s stuck.”
Caroline turned the key while Charley rammed his shoulder into door. After two kicks, the door jam cracked releasing the lock.
A pair of cracked leather deep-red shoes peeked from under the bed. Reams of printout paper double sided with old dot matrix codes, were strewn along the floor.
“Is this the right room?”
“Yep. People leave suddenly sometimes. We can clean it up later.” Rainbow prisms shot through the dirty windows, gradually overpowering the green of the room.
Charley tossed Anson on the faded quilt, placing pillows on either side of him.
“Charles…” Anson slurred.
“Loosen his clothes and take off his socks. He looks bloated,” said Charley.
“Get me out of here,” Anson hissed slowly. “Get off of me,” he kicked at Caroline as she removed his socks.
“Your circulation is compromised,” she answered. “You are swelling with excessive lymphatic fluids.” Anson banged his fists against the enameled metal of the bedposts. Caroline took his socks and tied his arms to the posts.
“Lie still,” she instructed as he glanced out the window above the bed. The street below was lit in blue light. Through a crack in the window she could hear a humming in the air. The crowd below was mixed, maybe half were Omni residents looking to glitch, the other half were permanent rejects.
Charley held Anson’s legs as he tried to kick and flip towards Caroline. Fragments of several European accents resounded below them.
“You!” shouted Anson. “How did you get here, Watson?”
“You should be wondering where you are, Anson.”
“What?” The room began to shake in the heavy winds of a sudden storm and heavy clouds obscured the outside light.
Caroline closed the window to keep out the sudden rain. As she slid the brass lock of the window, she saw a familiar male figure in a room across the street.
“Nico’s down there. How did he get here? He refused to leave with us.”
Charley looked down. “That is Nico. He’s on a different time line. We are here but he hasn’t even left yet.”
Inside the room with Nico, Minnow lay on a bed. She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair soaked with sweat with eyes open. She grimaced as she pulled a trash bin to her face as she vomited.
“Minnow is with him.”
Charley walked over to look. “Minnow is sick. She’s detoxing.”
Minnow pulled her legs to her chest and arched her back. Nico ran to the bed and began to rub her calves gently. His large hands encircled her legs as he kneaded her muscles.
“Muscle cramps,” Charley added. “I hope she’s through the worst of it.”
“Should we help?”
“No. They wouldn’t even know who you are.”
Nico stretched out Minnow’s pencil thin legs and wrapped them in the blanket again. Her arms rested in his lap and he warmed h
er skin under his touch. Minnow rolled over, small and cadaverous, tortured by the skin crawling pain of addiction.
“Untie me.” Anson’s recovery was almost complete as he strained at his ties. His long fingers worked at the knots as he twisted to a sitting position. Minnow and Charley stood silently watching out the window as Anson banged the window with his head.
“What are you idiots looking at? Where have you brought me? Some ghetto slum?”
“I would like to welcome you, Professor Anson, to the future, courtesy of you and your thievery. This is Omni. The company you started by stealing my money.”
“Insanity.”
“And the sick girl in the building across from us is also part of your future. But she will change everything.”
“A girl? My future?”
“Yep.”
“My child?”
“A descendant.”
“But I have no heirs. I am not married.”
“Yet. But you will. And she will atone for everything. She destroys what you created.”
“Are we certain of that?” asked Caroline.
“I can make certain that she does not.” He reached into his pocket and swallowed a packet of powder. “If I am no longer alive to sire such a succubus, then all of this is for naught.”
“No!” yelled Caroline, digging into his mouth, pulling out thickened pieces of powder mixed with saliva. “Why did you tell him anything?” Anson’s eyes bulged as he made choking and gurgling noises in the back of his throat. Charley pounded his chest and tried to make Anson vomit by sticking his hand into his throat. A warm sticky wetness soaked through the blanket as Anson urinated. He eyes bulged into a blank stare as he stopped convulsing.
“He’s dead,” said Charley.
“What about Minnow. If Anson is dead, will she ever be born? Will she disappear from here?”
“I don’t think it matters.” Charley smiled and pulled some blankets from the closet. “I don’t suppose you noticed, but Francesca is already pregnant.” Charley pulled the blankets over Anson, completely covering him on the bed. Caroline washed her hands and pulled her handkerchief to her mouth. She trembled as she walked back to the window.
Caroline watched Nico envelope Minnow’s small pained body with his. She ran her hands across her skirts and wiped her brow. Still staring at Nico, she whispered to Charley. “We need to find Josephine.” The room smelled of must. Stale smoke lingered in the air. Caroline pushed up her sleeves and opened a window. “Is she here yet?” Nico walked out of the balcony again with a bottle of water and sat on the edge of the rail, his feet dangled down to the street.
“We are all here and we are all not here. Everything is happening in layers of simultaneous time. We slip through the small holes of time.”
“We should leave and look for her.”
“I guess we’ll leave Anson’s body here,” said Charley. “I’ll probably have to pay extra for it at check-out for disposal.”
“Are you quite serious?” asked Caroline, shocked at leaving Anson’s corpse in the room as she looked again, down to Nico. She stepped outside the burnt orange curtains and stood next to a small samovar. Nico looked up to her, and his eyes squinted into the sun. He jumped back onto the concrete and stepped to the side, into the shaded area to see her more clearly. He studied her as she studied him. She inadvertently raised her hand in a small wave down to him and he cocked his head giving her a slow smile. Behind him, Minnow suddenly opened the sliding door and clung loosely to the curtains. Her shirt was soaked and her hair was matted to her scalp. She stumbled towards him, landing in a heap. He gently helped her to her feet but turned back to Caroline, still watching from above.
Nico’s brow furrowed as he studied her, as if she was familiar but he couldn’t quite place her. Then recognition hit him, the girl with the cameo. He reached into his pocket, feeling for it. And it was there, safe, her mother’s cameo.
“We need to hurry up,” said Caroline, “and fix what we came to do.”
“Let’s have tea first. There's no sense letting a perfectly lovely samovar go unused.”
Pawn Shop
Late January 2135
“I can’t do it.” Josephine jumped off the chair and bumped into the intravenous needles and liquefied pharms on the table. The thin wire still hung from behind her ear like an antenna. “It’s not…it’s not my nature. I’m sorry.” Charley stared at her in disbelief as she walked to the far corner of his office and nervously reached for the decorative parasol leaning on the wall. “Pretty.” Her fingers stroked the smooth wood of the handle. She opened the parasol, exposing a beautiful bridge of butterflies in its pattern. “It’s like mine at home.”
“You’re just spooked, Josephine. It’s normal to be nervous and freak out a little.”
“Freak out?”
“Just an expression. Let me give you something to relax.” Charley’s half inserted his wire diode bobbed back and forth around his ear at a right angle to his head – Josephine watched its movement, like the broken hand of a clock. He held the other end while a tiny smudge of blood dried on his neck.
“No, nothing to relax. Just tea. I need a surgeon or physic of some sort. I am certain a surgeon can remove this implanted device, yes?”
MadCityJess bolted in the room. “What the hell is going on in here? Sit back down, Josephine. We’re ready to go.”
“I can’t do it. I changed my mind.”
“What? I should have tranquilized you.” MadCityJess through her arms up. “And why are you under that parasol? It’s bad luck.” She turned angrily and bumped into Minnow who stood smirking in the doorway.
“God you are such a chicken,” said Minnow. She put her hands on her hips and looked at the ceiling. Yellow and brown wet lines traced the cheap panels. “Looks like you might have a leak up there, Charley.” She lowered her chin and looked up. Her eyes looked as large as saucers. “Oh,” she smiled strangely, her eyes large but almost menacing. “And Nico just showed up.”
The room smelled of sweat and tension. The dust on the windowsills gathered in thick lines and the cheerful yellow face of the smiley-face clock told the wrong time by several hours. A brown bag of Japanese take-away on the counter added the subtle smell of ginger in the room.
A brass floor lamp with a copper shade cast a circle of light in the corner where Josephine still stood with the opened parasol. She made shadows on the floor with the dainty umbrella. Charley stepped around the steel desk and pushed MadCityJess and Minnow out of his way. Behind a dented file cabinet, he ripped the silver duct tape from the side and grabbed an antique .44 hidden taped underneath. He blew the dust off the cylinder, checked for cartridges, and ran to the front room. Nico stood in the lobby. He stood plain as day with a jaunty grin, and wore a black three-piece day suit in a silken but matte material. A carved walking cane rested in his right palm.
“Where the heck have you been?” asked Charley. “Omni must’ve noticed the gap in your feed.”
“Doubtful. But screw Omni,” answered Nico. “Have any Brandy?”
“Brandy?” sputtered Charley. “Where do you think you are?” Charley nodded in the direction of the refrigerator. “Take what you want. But there’s no brandy.”
Nico nodded slowly, his movements appeared sclerotic. “You can ditch the gun, Charley.”
“I thought you might be a set-up. You alone?”
“Yep.”
“Where’ve you been?”
“I never left London. Been blessed by the hospitality of Madame Francesca.” Nico winked at Charley.
“What happened?” asked Minnow.
“Some Asian Jack the Ripper beat the shit out of me and then took out my chip.”
“What?” asked Yeshua. “Sounds like Tran.”
Charley dropped the gun to the floor. He began to pick at his cuticles, his hands still by his side.
“So you’re staying here now, right?” asked Minnow at the same time.
“Nope. Came to get Caroline.”
Nico made his way into the room and sat on one of the cracking leather couches. He placed the walking stick between his legs. “I’ve been worried.”
“You mean Josephine.” Minnow rolled her eyes.
“No. I mean Caroline.” Nico stared right at Charley. “Where is she? And what happened to Anson?”
“Caroline is not here,” argued Minnow.
“Yes, she is.”
Charley started to pull out his wire and he narrowed his eyes at Nico.
“Anson is here?” asked Yeshua. He stood, patting the dust from his jeans. The yellowy white plaster of the room had chipped and flaked over the furniture, mostly wooden chairs. “Where are the blueprints?” His voice was tight with slight panic in its edge. “Rolls gave the blueprints to us, to keep away from Anson.”
“Anson’s dead now,” answered Nico. “He’s dead in the dereg zone.”
“He’s dead?” Minnow mused. “Strange, I still exist but will I disappear? It’s like the grandfather paradox in reverse.”
“Time is flux, events are changeable. You know that.” Charley scratched his head. “Time travel is a loop of endless possibilities once you start playing with the past.”
“How did he even get here?” Minnow’s eyes were wide and incredulous.
“Charley brought him. He brought him with Caroline when we left Bodhi at Francesca’s,” said Nico.
“You became a chrononaut?” asked Josephine, her eyes shifted to Charley.
“When did you back travel? How did you do it?”
“I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet...not in my timeline as I know it.” He shrugged and bit his lower lip.
“Hook me up,” demanded Minnow as she reached for Josephine’s diode. She slid the wire out and held it by her side. “Got it.”
“Ouch!” yelled Josephine as she held her hair.
“What?” Yeshua came in. “Why? What are you doing?”
“I want to see what’s if I can figure out what’s going on in that mind of Charley’s.”
Three smiling Chinese tourists, who stepped into the shop without using the buzzer, interrupted Minnow. The security alarms shrieked, as they nodded politely and vigorously.
The tallest man’s forehead was very high and his features were smooth and unwrinkled. His angled nose looked to be the work of a plastic surgeon as he smiled, showing his two large front teeth. Charley checked his watch. “Sorry. But I won’t be open again until tomorrow morning. Check back in the afternoon.” The half-door to the main shop remained bolted.