Fractured: The Fracpocalypse Book 1

by D. S Mac

  Drake’s eyes met Hannah’s; glistening tears streaked her face. Then Erica, his beautiful daughter. Seeing them did something. Drake could think for himself again. His mind reconnected to reality. His brain began to function again. In that one second, everything made sense to him. Determination crossed his face. He rolled to his front, swung his arms out and clung onto either side of the door frame. His muscles bulged, threatening to tear from the effort as the vacuum lifted him off the floor.

  A primal roar erupted from his lips, the strain taking every ounce of energy he had. He didn’t know how long he could hold on for. Should he just let go? No! This was not the end. After everything, this would not be it. Then his worst nightmare came true.

  A phosphorus explosion erupted. As he hung there, clutching on for dear life, another fracture tore into the fabric of reality and shattered into existence. Drake screamed. Tears instantly soaked his face. He couldn’t react. He couldn’t think. It was over. There was nothing he could do as his beautiful wife, gorgeous daughter, and an amazing best friend began to get sucked backwards. Their faces were full of fear, amplified by the fractures’ multicoloured glow unlike any he had ever seen.

  No. He could not let this happen. It couldn’t end like this. Drake closed his eyes, it had been a while since he had done this, but it was like muscle memory. The temporal zone revealed itself. Never had he thought he’d have to go here again. But this time, he was focused. He would not succumb to the bliss. Fractures whizzed past him like pictures of memories. At the hospital when Erica was born, the pure joy on Hannah’s face as she cradled the tiny newborn. On their wedding day, Hannah looked stunning in a white dress, outshining everybody there. Then Erica crawled up the aisle, outshining Hannah. All the laughs, the loves, the beautiful moments in time that are cherished forever.

  Then the devastation. Every fracture manifested the same image, the same horrifying image. Fergus, Erica and Hannah dissolving into the fracture. Drake searched and searched, two hundred windows later. The same image. One thousand. The same. Ten thousand. The same.

  Drake had no concept of time, but he spent days searching. His body and mind would not tire, nor would he need sustenance. He would not leave until he found a way to save them. He would search millions upon millions of windows until he found them alive.

  Chapter 43 - Return

  How long had it been, hours, days, months, even years? There was no way to know; it was just a constant feeling of disconnect from reality. One goal, one purpose, filled his mind. Save my family. Fractures had become less frequent as Drake had searched through millions, all possibilities, all ending the same way. Each one showed him images of death after death of his loved ones like some messed-up torture method for the temporal sensitives.

  There was no way he could keep this up. Every second was costing him a fraction of himself. He wouldn’t be any use to anyone if he kept this up. But it was too hard to pull away from the blissful serenity of the temporal zone. Every second he spent there, he was losing purpose. Why was he even searching for fractures? Erica… Hannah. “Shit.” He remembered he needed to save them. No options presented themselves through millions of possibilities.

  Home. He must go home but to when? It was all gone, Amy, Chase and Peter, gone. Erica, Fergus and Hannah, gone. There was only one option: to return and find where it started and find the fracture cause again. With what willpower he had left, Drake willed forth a fracture, one of his home not long after he left. Hopefully, the ruby fractures would be gone. A fracture showed itself and hurtled towards him. A flash of light and he went through.

  The hardwood floor connected with his knees; his body flopped to the floor. His limbs felt weak, unused. Drake lay there as pins and needles smothered his entire body, like when you slept on an arm for too long, and it became numb. Starting with fingers and toes, he began to wiggle, anything to get the blood pumping.

  It took several minutes for Drake to feel again. In that time, he had never felt so vulnerable. Remembering his loss overwhelmed him, and he lay there whimpering, tears rolling down his cheeks. Over a few minutes, his muscles began to work. He repeated the process of pulling his knees to his chest and back. Then as he sat himself up, he rolled his arms around in a full circle. Once he was nimble enough to get up, he stood. His right leg buckled. He threw an arm out and caught the sofa to stop himself from falling.

  With his hands buried into the back cushion, he stood there hunched. Thinking. A million questions ran through his mind. Who did it this time? Where did they do it? Why? The only conclusion he came to was that it had to have been at Forrest Futures, but that didn’t exist yet. If he entered the temporal zone, would he be stuck again, only seeing the same outcome? He had to try. He owed it to everyone.

  He let the electromagnetic field wash over him and became one with the zone once again. It was becoming easier to use like it was in tune with him. A weightless expanse of black came into view. Tiny stars dotted the horizon. Drake closed his eyes tight, gritted his teeth and thought. He thought of a machine like the one he’d seen. He thought of the sounds it made. There it was, but something was off. Every traversable fracture he had ever seen was blue; every dangerous fracture was blood red; this one was white. Why was it white?

  With his curiosity buzzing, Drake decided to think about fractures in general. Stars manifested in the distance. Then more and more until there were millions of stars. Drake willed them forward and could not believe his eyes. Fractures of every possible colour appeared before him, like a temporal rainbow refracting around him. He saw the usual blues, then hundreds of different shades of blue, then the same with greens and yellows, purples, browns and whites. Why were there so many? How had he only seen the azure-glowing ones? Has something changed? Farther back from the others, out of reach and uncontrollable, hovered multicoloured windows. From a distance, Drake could only just make out the prismatic glow, teasing him, laughing at him.

  He didn’t have time for this right now and wiped them from his mind. As sharply as they’d appeared, they popped out of existence. Once again, he brought forward the white window. Swirling in the mess of mirror shards, he saw it, the machine. It looked more ancient, bulky like the tech was hard to come by, older maybe. There was only one thing for it, he entered.

  The room revealed itself around him. No, not a room. A barn. Broken wooden slats ran up the sides. The archaic-looking machine filled almost the entire floor space, which was surprisingly clean. Drake strolled around the device. It looked to him like it was unfinished, a work in progress.

  Sunlight suddenly washed over the barn; somewhere a door had just opened. As the door closed with a bang, the shadows returned. Drake froze. Had someone entered? Placing his feet down quietly, he crouched and made his way behind a desk. Footsteps approached. He focused on quieting his breathing and waited.

  Incoherent mumbling met his ears as the footsteps stopped. Whoever it was had made their way to the computer right next to him. After the clicks of several keys, a familiar voice spoke.

  “Fucking thing! Need more power…” Drake could see the person’s feet. They shuffled around and walked off. From beneath the desk, Drake saw him. But it was impossible; he was dead! He held back a gasp, rubbed his eyes and looked again. With a younger, sturdier body, moving with more confidence. He was not mistaken. It was Brendan Forrest.

  Chapter 44 - Ressurection

  Henry scoured the tech room. It was really a storage room for some of the strange tech that Brendan or Forrest Futures created. Lines of racking were filled with all kinds of devices ranging from EMPs to digital cell chips. The digital cell chips, in particular, were a huge breakthrough. Imagine it, a chip surgically placed into your brain, giving you a heads-up display of your mobile phone. Human rights quickly destroyed this idea, but Brendan liked to keep his creations because things might change.

  “I can’t find anything amongst all this junk.” Henry had been down there for thirty minutes so far. It was a maze, a mess of old, disused or hidden
tech. He was searching for an implant. It was a device attached to the base of your skull and connected to your brain waves, large and unsightly. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever willingly shove it into their neck.

  “Aha,” he shouted as he picked up a gunmetal suitcase. He placed the hardened protective case down on a shelf and thumbed both clips, which opened with a faint click. He slid open the top, revealing a bulky metal cylinder with a screen on one end and five small holes on the other. After closing the case back up and securing it with the clips, he returned to Brendan.

  ***

  “I have it, sir.”

  “Took you long enough.”

  “Sorry, sir, it’s a mess…”

  Brendan threw an arm out and glowered at Henry. “I don’t care. Just bring it here.”

  Henry placed down the case and spun it to face Brendan. Brendan ran a caring hand across the surface of the case and slid his hands down to the clips. They popped open. He pushed up the lid and grinned.

  “It may not be today, or tomorrow or yesterday. But everything will change.” He reached in and pulled out the cylinder. It was smooth to the touch and cold. Brendan pushed in a button, and the screen came to life. The Forrest Futures logo faded across the screen, then revealed an array of settings.

  “Henry, come here.”

  Henry did as he was asked and made his way around the back of Brendan’s chair. He took the cylinder, which Brendan held out.

  “Push the red button on the screen, then shove it into the base of my skull.”

  “Sir, I don’t know if…”

  “Just shut up and do it,” Brendan huffed. “Once it is in place, set the date on the screen to April 12, 1995.”

  “Yes, sir.” Henry held the cylinder like a syringe and thumbed the red button. Shnk. Five metal prongs shot out of the chamber. His hands shook as he lined them up with Brendan’s neck. Henry took a deep breath, lined up the prongs and pushed. Brendan didn’t even flinch as they entered his neck. Henry set the date and stepped back.

  “All done, sir.”

  “Mmhmm.” Brendan patted his breast pocket. He needed to make sure a particular item was there. It was the most important factor of his plan. When he felt it, he closed his eyes and let the brainwave connections take place. An electric ripple coursed through him as the base of his neck glowed white. Pain flared through his skull as if his brain were being fried.

  “Sir, are you ok?”

  “Yes, Henry, shut up. I’m concentrating. This has only been tested once before. It amplifies the temporal fragments within me, allowing me to do what Mr Osborn does. However, not as accurately or as many times.”

  With gritted teeth, he shut his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. He thought of images from his childhood, his old house, his old road. Sudden weightlessness washed over him, and his office became a street.

  Brendan gasped as he yanked the cylinder from his neck. He felt the warmth of his blood as it trickled down his spine. He reset the prongs, pocketed the device and looked for the house. He was a few doors down, but there it was, as run-down and as broken as he remembered it. His childhood home. Broken windows, unmowed lawn. Paintwork in a state of disarray. Across the road was a beaten, old wooden bench that had suffered from years of damp and neglect, much like his house. He strolled over and took a seat. Then he waited.

  It wasn’t long until the first step of his plan appeared. A young boy about twelve years old stormed out of his house, slamming the door. Red-hot fury flushed his face as he stormed off down the road. Brendan followed.

  The boy had stopped by a stream. He was sat on the edge of a low wall, attempting to skim stones across the surface of the water, each one sinking upon impact. Brendan carefully eased himself next to the boy.

  “Fuck me, I’ll never get back up now.”

  The boy sniggered but kept his attention on the stream.

  Brendan sighed. “You alright, boy?”

  The kid shuffled away slightly, then looked at Brendan and nodded.

  “Mother giving you grief, huh?”

  “Yes!” The ferociousness with which the boy spoke filled Brendan with joy. This was a perfect time. His plan would work.

  “You know what I think?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “I think… you should kill her.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and acceptance. “I can’t.”

  “But you can, boy, you most definitely can.” Brendan slid a hand in his pocket and slipped out a small handgun. He placed it on his lap. The boy stared and would not take his eyes off it. Brendan very tentatively stroked his finger along the hard metal. He stopped at the safety. “This is the safety, flick that, and the gun will fire.” He ran his finger back along to the trigger. “This is the trigger, point the gun, then pull that to shoot.”

  The boy had not taken his eyes off the gun. Brendan got the sense that the boy definitely wanted to.

  “Would you like to know a secret?”

  The boy nodded.

  “My name is Brendan. I had a mother just like yours. She hit me; she shouted at me; she belittled me.” He paused. “I wish I were given a gun to kill her.” Brendan picked up the gun and placed it on the boy’s lap. “I wish.”

  The boy’s hand brushed along the weapon, the fury in his eyes lighting up at the option he had been given. He picked up the gun; his mouth curled up at the sides.

  Brendan reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm. “You do this, and I can help you become the best you could ever be.” He removed his hand. “No more shall you be hit; no more shall you be shouted at… No more shall you be belittled!”

  The boy’s hand tightened around the gun. He jumped to his feet, face set with determination.

  “My name is Brendan! No longer will I be hit, no longer will I be shouted at, and no longer will I be belittled!” He shouted so loud that birds flapped away with haste. With his shoulders stiff, his face locked tight on his goal, the boy walked off.

  “I’ll be here when you are ready.” Brendan grinned. His plan had worked. It was too easy to trick himself into killing his awful mother.

  A loud crack rang out through the neighbourhood, then another and another and another. Brendan had never heard such a beautiful moment. It was one he would cherish forever. Something rustled behind him. He turned to see his younger self holding the smoking gun, eyes utterly devoid of emotion. Brendan reached inside his pocket and pulled out his little device. On this device, he had downloaded his consciousness, his knowledge, his memories, his life.

  “Come here, boy.”

  Young Brendan shuffled over like a zombie, mind completely numb from the heinous act he had just committed.

  Brendan cupped his face, the device between his fingers. “You did great, kid.” Brendan bared his teeth in a malevolent grin as he placed the device on his younger self’s temple. The boy fell straight to the ground and convulsed. Transference had begun.

  “I must return now, boy. You will succeed where I have failed.” Brendan produced his cylindrical device; a flashing green button that read ‘return’ pulsed on the small LED screen. He thumbed the switch and shoved the device into his neck.

  Chapter 45 - Preparation

  Brendan’s new body was the single most significant decision he had ever made, and one day when the world had been reset, he would mass-produce the consciousness-transference ship he’d created. He would make billions. After having lived for over eighty years, he now had a new lease on life, a fresh body, a fresh start. This time his plan would come together earlier, giving the planet twenty more years to recover.

  Since swapping with his younger self, he went through life as usual, covered up the murder of his mother, and focused on even more learning. Top of his class through school and university, he became one of the youngest to have graduated with a master’s. He was smart, so he chose more fields of science to progress in, and now his knowledge was unfathomable.

  Straight after university, he used his intel
ligence to invest in large companies and very quickly made millions. Millions that bought him land, a small army of mercenaries and would fund the inevitable end of humanity. Working alone for the most part, he built a machine, yeah, it was bulkier and not as finessed as the original, but ultimately, that did not matter if he could still achieve the end goal. He had just one problem. Power.

  Brendan passed at least fifteen mercs on his way to the barn. Each of them armed, clad in black and on constant alert. That wasn’t the full extent of his army, as at least five more were currently having lunch back in the house.

  The barn door’s hinges creaked, and light flooded in, revealing the machine. As he passed it, he ran a hand along the entire body, feeling every crevice and divot. Around the back was the high-powered PC he had built from scratch. The computing power needed to run this equipment was extortionate, so he needed a small supercomputer.

  He bashed a key, bringing the screen to life, entered his password and typed in the new equations he’d worked on.

  “Fucking thing! Need more power.” He spun around and began to leave.

  “If I connected the auxiliary power supply to the main circuit of the house and added a fuse to the circuit breaker, this could work. It’s dangerous.” He paused. “But worth it.” Brendan pulled open the barn door, met with the same creaking as before. “Jason.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you mind heading out and grabbing me, say…” He stopped for a second as he calculated. “Two hundred meters of high-voltage cable?”

  “Certainly, sir.” The merc called Jason walked off.

  Brendan enjoyed this, a plan coming together and an army that listened to him and only him, a future on the horizon that would heal the world. He continued back to the house to plan to bodge a connection to the main power line.