by Agster, Joe
Sometime later the door opens. “You!” The agent points to Friend, gesturing him with his finger to come forward through the door.
He walks through as instructed, and then it’s slammed shut. His hands are shacked with those metallic restrains again, then is led into a different sort of room, with a table and large mirror. He is told to sit, and soon after another agent comes into the room, someone Friend already knows, Agent Stewart.
“It says here your name is Aiden Pollock. Tell us Aiden, what is your relationship to Dr. Pond?” Stewart inquires.
“There is no relationship,” Friend responds with little emotion.
“So, Dr. Pond, one of NASA’s top scientists, simply gave you his bunker assignments because you’re a complete stranger,” he questions rhetorically in an authoritative voice, with a tinge of sarcasm.
“Yes, exactly,” Friend retorts, with a smile, realizing that is pretty much the truth. “So if we can have our bunker cards back, we’ll be on our way.”
Stewart laughs. “It’s not that simple. We just ran your iris scan against the one tagged to this ID and there is no match. So in the least we know you’ve committed identity fraud, a federal offense. Worse than that, Maxwell Pond has in his possession information that is classified above top secret. Information only a handful of people in this world have, including the president.”
He pauses in a callous attempt to intimidate Friend with silence, before he continues. “This information is so critical that if it got into the wrong hands, it would require lethal force to stop it from spreading, for which we are authorized. So you see, if you have ideas about us just letting you go so you can continue on to Hanford, you can just relegate that to a fantasy in your mind.”
Friend passionately interjects, raising his voice. “Critical information? Above top secret? You mean that giant asteroid in the sky that is about to wipe out most of the population, the one you guys have been lying to the public about! I’m sure the thousands or so heading to Hanford right now already know about it.”
Stewart wraps up, mostly ignoring Friend’s comment. “You know, a few of my agents never received bunker assignments. They would be more than happy when I give these to them.”
Stewart gets up and leaves the room. A few second later the agent that escorted Friend to this interrogation room escorts him back to the holding cell. Friend cringes as the door slams shut behind him, forced to face the others.
“I messed this up, bad.” Friend admits to himself, hoping to salvage what little relationship he has with Cassie.
The rest of the room stays silent, resenting Friend. They avoid eye contact and mostly ignore his presence. There is nothing he can say that will make them change their mind. Friend sits upright, staring up in the distance, unfazed by the awkwardness, plotting his next move.
9
Iteration 5, Day 2 – December 27
Friend finally found a surface he hates more than sand… concrete. His neck continues to ache as he sits up, basking in the limited morning light shining from the tiny sliver of a window. The others have already been up for a while it seems, whispering to each other, not wanting Friend to hear. Cassie is still in tears, as an eternal sadness grips her face. This is the only thing that gives Friend any guilt, although a mild sense of it at most. After all, all of this is temporary, all forgotten once he returns to the desert to start over.
An hour or so after he awakes, a guard comes in and brings food, welcomed handsomely by the starving group. It’s some type of rounded bread, called a bagel, along with some glasses of water. Not the most appetizing meal, but enough to feed a craving stomach.
An hour or so after that, they hear a commotion. Wyatt looks through the tiny glass in the door, and observes them all packing up their stuff. They are, one by one, expeditiously making their way out of the building.
“They’re all leaving! All of them!” Wyatt cries out.
He pounds on the door, trying to call attention to them, to no avail. The others join in, all trying to get them to notice. Within minutes the lights in the outside areas all shut off, with everyone vanished.
“Now what do we do!? Those bastards just left us to rot in here.” He complains while Cassie and Alaina frown in angst.
“They are fleeing. They took our bunker cards. He told me they’re reassigning them to one of his other agents,” Friend calmly explains.
“Why are you even talking! You put us here, you idiot!” Wyatt screams at Friend, pumping his muscle as he prepares for a fist fight, as Alaina and Cassie hold him back.
“Wyatt. Wyatt! Tone it down!” Cassie commands. “We’ll figure it out.”
After about thirty minutes pass and Friend opens up, longing to reveal what he knows, hoping to put them at ease and help him brainstorm.
“They are going to announce the asteroid tonight at 20 hundred. After that, it’s going to be mass panic. It will spill into the night. By tomorrow morning, thousands crowd the airports. Once those morning flights depart no more planes will return. After that, a giant run on the rental cars until those are gone. All day the military will sweep through the streets ordering people to evacuate, but they fall back by nightfall. The day after that, street gangs will appear and pillage and take what they can, but there is hardly anything else to take, so they vanish. Then, during the final two days, the liveliest party this city has ever seen takes place. Everyone is so positive and upbeat they forget about their impending doom. They defy the asteroid up until the final moment when it crashes down.”
They sit and listen. Revealing the truth strikes the nerve of hope in all of them. They don’t question how he knows all of this. They are beyond trying to understand why he came into their lives and led them down this path. They put their trust into him once before, and suddenly those hardened feelings of resentment and hatred slowly soften up, and they find themselves absorbed back into his world, even if they can’t admit it to themselves.
They spend the next few hours sharing intimate details about each other. Cassie and Alaina talk about their various bartending adventures. Wyatt talks about his single days before he met Alaina. Friend sits there absorbing it all in. It is something peculiar that Friend realizes about himself, once he learns something he doesn’t seem to forget it. This memory of his is especially powerful when it comes to visual cues. Every bit of information, every clue, every revelation, if he is attentive and focused on it, it is stored in his mind where it can be readily accessed at any moment he wishes.
The day turns to night, and the darkness reminds them of their predicament, eroding what happiness they felt earlier in the day. The whole building is dark now, including their holding cell. What little bit of light there is, parts of the moon’s glow and the city lights, shines through the translucent window. They become preoccupied with an absence of food and water. Without a bathroom they are forced to relieve themselves in the cell, creating an unavoidable, unsanitary sight and stench they find repulsive.
Later into the night they grow weakened by the lack of food and water, compounded by the cold air from the outside permeating into the cell. Alaina and Wyatt huddle together close, exchanging warmth as enjoyable they can. Cassie then gets up and sits next to Friend, getting close to him, still resentful but also forgiving him somewhat, partially from feeling drawn to him.
“Cassie, look, I’m—” Friend tries to explain, before being shushed by Cassie.
“Don’t worry about it,” she whispers softly into his ear. “We are going to need to do something soon though. If we’re going to die, I’d rather die out there. Let’s put our brains together and come up with something.”
They discuss the tiny window. How would they possibly fit? Not even a baby could fit through that tiny slit of a window. Even if they could fit, it looks strong enough to withstand a bullet. They could beat on the door, but it’s much too strong to open. No one is around to open it. Feeling stumped, she suggests sleeping on it.
She holds him close, not out of passion, but of neces
sity to stay warm. But still, she won’t deny the mild spark she feels for him. Also, there’s something stewing in her mind, a burning question that must be asked.
She whispers to him, “Can I ask you something Friend? How do you know so much about me?”
Friend is getting used to explaining his circumstances. He enjoys being forthcoming rather that insincere. With Cassie, it is therapeutic. “It’s called timelooping. I live the same six days over and over. And you know, I’ve met you several times now.”
Looking into his eyes, she inquires, “Oh yeah, so I told you about my father then. Can you tell me how I was compelled to share such a deep and personal secret?”
He explains how they were in the final hours just before the asteroid. They had fallen in love with each other, even getting married. It was his first iteration and she helped him live through it. For that moment in time, they were soul mates, in perfect unison. She held him tight, similar to how she is doing it now, bundled up in the cold night, watching the asteroid barrel down on us. Then, she confided in him that very personal secret.
“You want to hear something perplexing?” he asks, with her nodding in affirmation. “We met at the Vyxx nightclub, with you approaching me. We instantly connected, like it was meant to be, in the perfect moment. Then in the next iteration, you rejected me, and then again. I kept trying to recreate how we met, and failed miserably every time.”
“I can explain,” she confidently responds. “You cannot recreate a perfect moment. It’s like breaking a vase and trying to glue it back together again. Instead, you need to find a new perfect moment. Create a new vase.”
Friend snickers, but is impressed. These strange pearls of wisdom are why he fell in love with her. He cherishes them deeply. He thinks back to that first iteration, understanding how much he has evolved since then. He hasn’t really stopped loving her, he’s just being more reserved about it now. After all, what point is there in expressing his love, when he has to start over every six days? He is more than content in his role now, being her guardian, her hero, on this quest to save her from the asteroid.
As the night deepens, Friend thinks about the panic taking place. He feels weak from hunger, but feels strong enough to push through. He’s already done it many times now. Cassie feels weak, but comforted by him. She doses off to sleep in his arms, conserving what remaining energy she has for tomorrow. Friend is holding her, determined to come up with something, until he passes out into sleep.
Day 3 – December 28
Early the next morning, just as the sun rises, Friend wakes up with a revelation. The strange old man, the healing… how did he forget this? If Friend has the power to heal, shouldn’t he have the power to break or bend? What other powers does he have?
He stands up, facing the door, focusing on it, pushing it, visualizing it breaking. He pounds and pounds, hoping to put some type of dent in it, but nothing. What is the point? He is exasperated.
A few minutes later he tries again, pounding and pounding, focusing mental energy on the steel plate on the door where the handle sits from the other side. He continues to thrust his fists, hoping that even a tiny supernatural nudge will manifest itself, bringing him encouragement. The others slowly wake up to the throbbing sound of flesh hitting steel. Their eyes remain drowsy while their ears long for him to stop, yet the sounds are too painful to ignore.
He waits one minute then tries again, getting angrier with each punch. As the indomitable steel door returns his kinetic energy back on himself, he can barely feel any pain. He continues, this time ramming it with his shoulder. He feels something stir in him as he violently advances harder and harder. They he pounds once again. Then more, until he is filled with rage. He then backs up, feeling a sense of empowerment, of invincibility. In the heat of moment, and with all his might and his arms extended forward, he shouts at the top of his lungs while charging his whole body toward the door, leading with both fists.
A gigantic forceful burst flashes forward, a force so strong it blasts the door open, ripping off its hinges and onto the ground below! It almost looks as if a cannonball crushed the door open. The others are astonished, just in total shock. Wyatt suddenly emerges in a swell of excitement.
“YES!” He shouts, hugging Alaina and Cassie, then high fiving Friend. Cassie is momentarily stunned at the unexplainable act, and is strongly turned on by it. Friend also stands in amazement at his own accomplishment. He does have supernatural powers. This is new, but an incredibly starting revelation. But right now, he has no time to ponder on them, as they all exit the holding cell, tiring of its increasingly foul smell, and making their way into the core area of the building.
“Let’s find our stuff!” Cassie commands to her friends.
They scour the office for their belongings and whatever else they can find that may be of some use. Wyatt and Alaina gather food and water from the kitchen area, consuming what they can to nourish themselves, saving the rest for later. Cassie eventually finds their stuff in a box, on one of the agent’s desk. It contains their phones, wallets, and jackets, but the envelope is missing. Friend laments at the loss of it, especially the letter that Max wrote to his sons, twice now, that will never get read.
They make their way out of the building. Around the side there is a small parking structure. It takes a few minutes, but they spot Cassie’s car, tucked away inside a fenced area. Some type of large orange label is affixed to the front window. Cassie looks at it and laughs. It’s a notice of seizure.
They get into the vehicle and Cassie starts it with a voice command. Then she pauses, wondering where to go. Wyatt senses this moment of apprehension, and offers his suggestion. “So what do you say Cassie, head to Hanford?”
“There is no point anymore,” Friend responds. “They took the bunker cards. Even if we drove there, without bunker cards they’d do what they can to keep us out.”
“Friend is right,” Cassie remarks. “There is no point in escaping now. We might as well accept our fate.”
Cassie checks her navigation system. The freeways are all clogged heading out of town. It seems so many are so desperate they are driving on the wrong side of the roads trying to escape. Friend informs them again that the Strip is crawling with military vehicles. By tonight, they will be gone, and most of the freeways will be clear. But then, they will have to contend with street gangs and looters. The decision is made: lay low for a few hours until after sunset, then head back to their hotel.
As she checks her navigation periodically in the following hours, she discovers that most of the roads have cleared up. They start to move, taking a different route, a back way toward the Strip. The roads are eerily empty and there’s no sign of any military presence. Friend warns her not to park near the hotel, as there are thieves roaming around. They eventually make it to an empty parking structure, tucked away from view and about a ten-minute walk from the hotel.
As the car pulls into the spot and parks itself, Wyatt wonders. “Shouldn’t we at least return to California?”
“We could,” Cassie responds, “but by the way the roads look heading back, we’d be stuck for two days at least. You’ve seen what’s it like trying to head home on a normal weekend. No thanks.”
Wyatt looks disappointed. Friend remembers watching it on the holographic television, thousands trying to leave town in all directions. He sees no point in escaping like that. Besides, wait until they see Las Vegas in two days. They’ll be glad they stayed.
They grab what they can and take it on foot to the hotel. The darkness gives them appropriate cover. Once in the hotel, they discover what Friend has seen many times, a desolate mess left behind by a looting crowd. To their surprise the elevators still work. Electricity still flows through the building, even if some lights are disabled. When they return to their room they find the door still ajar, and most of their belonging are gone. Ransacked by others, after the FBI confiscated what they could.
“Let’s rest tonight, then tomorrow I’ll show you guys where
to find more food,” Friend suggests.
Day 6 – December 31, 9:19
The group heads downstairs to witness the mass influx of party goers, as Wyatt and Alaina cannot contain their excitement. Friend feels vindicated that despite being locked up, he was able to show them what Las Vegas is like on the final day.
Cassie and Friend break from the group, and take a stroll north toward The Sparq. He has longed for this very moment where they can be alone, as he can have a serious talk with her. He needs her sharp intellect and knowledge of this world to solve what seems to be the final piece to this puzzle.
“Can we talk?” he asks. “We need to solve one problem before we can escape to the bunker.”
“Escape?” she wonders, thinking about her current predicament.
“I mean, in the next iteration. The problem is Max. He is being pursued by the FBI as you know, and we need to somehow get those bunker cards before he is swarmed by these federal agents.”
“Is he being tracked through his device?” she questions.
“We already discovered that. He bought a prepaid device in Los Angeles, but stupidly activated it on his way to Las Vegas.” he tells her.
“They can track the phone even if it’s off.” she explains, relying on her tech expertise she grew up learning. “Every connected device has a special beacon chip with a unique code. Most people forget it’s there. Once they can establish a connection to him from the device they can track him anywhere.”
“But wouldn’t Max know this? He’s a pretty smart man,” Friend wonders.
“Not if he doesn’t realize he is being tracked in the first place,” she responds. “The beacon is useless until he turns the phone on and accesses the network. They can get a warrant to track every prepaid device in route to Las Vegas, then connect the devices to their beacons. After that, then all they have to do is conduct surveillance on each of the beacon locations. They can easily assign drones for that, although those can only see from above. By the time he reaches the hotel they already have one possible location to check. If the drones don’t spot him, an agent will. Then, it’s a matter of hours or less before they move in.”