by Vaughn Ashby
He popped the back doors of the van open, and started unloading his stuff. He carried the lumber, bag of cameras and portal supplies from the van through the ditch and into the field. It took three trips to get everything he wanted. Then he set off to work. First, he laid all his lumber out, and made a nice flat wall. He left it laying on the ground, no point in wasting time getting it to stand up. Then he cracked open the cases for the cameras and attached them to the wood, six in all, each pointing in a different direction. He powered them all on. Next, he broke out his portal supplies. He painted, sprinkled and finally sprayed. The portal flared to life.
Shane peeked his head through, no giant spiders. That was good, hopefully, there was only one. Then he pulled a large tarp from one of his bags, and threw it over the boards. He tucked the edges of the blue tarp under the corners of the wood so it wouldn’t blow away. The tarp that is, not the portal.
Standing back he examined his work, and smiled. He double checked that the cameras were on, then went back to the van.
The thought of leaving an open portal out there seemed like a really bad idea, but he needed it. At least he hid it with a tarp, that should count for something, he told himself.
Next up, get those cameras online. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and brought up the website. He started a new post. He pasted the link to the cameras, people would be able to click the links and see the live feeds from the cameras. Then he put his cell phone number at the bottom, and a message asking people to call or text him when they saw something strange. He didn’t need to explain that they were watching for a house or entire subdivision to pop up. The people following on the site were smart and educated in all this Aurora Wasteland related stuff. They’d be able to figure it out with little or no explanation.
He’d never put anything personal on there before. It was actually a big no-no on the site. No personal identifying material. But he needed someone to watch, and he couldn’t sit here waiting. He hit submit and hoped whoever moderated the site would just let it go through.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
1931 Anna: Please Stop Doing It
Gord burst into the house with the doctor trailing close behind him. He'd pushed the door open so hard it nearly knocked the poor doctor on his ass on its way back. But he made it through and followed Gord to the bedroom.
Dr. Beck examined the house as much as he could while they moved through it to the bedroom. Like many other prairie homes at the time it was simple. Mostly one large room and then a bedroom for the parents, if they were lucky there was one for the kids too. The Lunde family was not so lucky. But for the most part, the house looked tidy, with the exception of the smell. The house was cozy.
The smell in question was coming from the bedroom they were heading towards. Dr. Beck had become all too accustomed to it. Most of the houses he visited had it. When a family member can't leave the house for whatever reason, and the bathroom is outside said house, like an out house for instance, well where is that person supposed to relieve themselves? So the smell of fecal matter builds. No matter how hard you try to clean you can’t get the smell of poop out of the house.
They entered the bedroom, Gord rushed to the side of the bed. The girl on the bed was sleeping. He dipped a washcloth in a water bucket next to the bed and placed it on her forehead. It startled the girl awake. She flinched and tried to pull the cloth from her head, but the straps holding her arms prevented it.
"Why do you keep doing that," she said angrily. "I told you I don't like it. Please stop doing it."
"But it makes you feel better," Gord replied as he repositioned the cloth.
"I'm not sick, why don't you believe me?"
The Dr. Beck watched from the door and said nothing. It would be rude to interrupt before he was introduced.
"Now Anna, please. You know if it was up to me I’d let you free, but I can't."
"Right, because the community said I wasn't allowed in public anymore."
"You can't control yourself sometimes, they find it unsettling," It was awkward for Gord to even talk about it. "I love you, you know that right?" He kissed her forehead.
"I do, I love you too Daddy."
They both noticed Dr. Beck smiling, and stared at him.
It became apparent no introduction was coming, so he'd have to do his own. "Hello Miss Anna, I'm Dr. Beck former head of the University neuroscience department. It is so lovely to see a father express his love for his daughter so openly."
"Former?" Gord asked confused. He'd made phone calls when he was looking for help. Which required his going over to the Anderson house a mile or so away to use their phone. All the hospitals he called recommended him, but never mentioned the former part.
"Yes, I left the university to spend more time in the field helping people like your daughter."
"Can you help her?"
"I don't need help," Anna interrupted.
"Anna your father tells me you are prone to bouts of public masturbation," Dr. Beck said making his way to the edge of the bed. "This isn't your fault Anna. Sometimes people are broken. Your brain is made up of hundreds of little wires. Sometimes those wires become broken, or maybe they were broken, to begin with. I can fix those."
Anna grabbed her father's hand, “please Daddy, I'm fine."
He put his other hand on top of her’s. “We need to do this if you ever want to go out in public again. I want you to feel normal.”
Tears ran down her face, “I do."
The room fell silent; the doctor was well used to situations like this. He’d done this very procedure hundreds of times. Making the choice to go ahead was always the hardest part for the family.
Gord hugged Anna, he wished her Mother was here to help with this, but she’d taken off when Anna’s outbreaks became more public. Or so he believed. He hadn’t been given a chance to talk with her. One day she was just gone. She was a very proper woman, so he concluded that she couldn’t handle the stress of the situation. One day she packed up and left. Gord and Anna would have surely followed her, but they had no clue as to where she went. It was now over 2 years since she left, Anna was all Gord had and he’d do anything for her. “I think we should do it.”
“No, please don’t,” Anna cried.
“Don’t worry Miss Anna, you won’t feel a thing. I’m very good at my job. Let me get set up” Dr. Beck returned to the front door where his bags had been left by his driver, he fetched the smallest of the bags and returned to Anna’s room. She cried as he took his tools out. Gord could barely look at them, he stared out the window, second-guessing his choice with every breath.
“Gord please, would you make sure her restraints are tight. Wouldn’t want her moving during this.”
Anna pleaded with each strap pull. Gord’s heart could barely contain itself, he hated seeing her like this and would do anything to make it stop, but he wanted her better.
“Please no, I’ll never touch myself again,” it was hard to understand her through the tears, and crying. “I promise, just stop please.”
Dr. Beck dipped a cotton ball in some sort of alcohol and rubbed it on Anna’s temples. “I can handle it from here,” he put a hand on Gord’s shoulder. “This part can be hard to see.”
“No, I need to be here for her.”
“Ok please, feel free to hold her hand.”
Gord sat on the opposite side of the bed from Dr. Beck, and held Anna’s hand tight, she stared into his eyes. Pleading, without saying anything.
Dr. Beck removed his final tool from his bag. A larger thin piece of metal. One end was the handle, the other ended in a point. Anna started to cry more.
“It’s ok, Miss Anna, you’ll feel better soon.”
Slowly he placed the ice pick along the side of Anna’s head. He moved it to the exact point he wanted, then applied pressure. Anna screamed, tears ran down Gord's face.
Dr. Beck slowly pressed the pick into her, it moved easily through her skin. The skull he’d always found provided ample resistanc
e, but the point of the pic was perfect for getting through, and with a little more pressure it penetrated.
Anna cried and screamed. Dr. Beck pushed the pic in further, it moved through her brain, through her thoughts, through her. He pushed it further in, Anna stopped screaming. Then he stopped, and pulled the pick out.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
2014-B Shane: Yes You Die It Sucks
Shane sat there hitting refresh on his phone, waiting for his post to be approved. His data plan was definitely taking a beating, but he didn’t care. He refreshed again and finally, the post was there. A pin in the map at his current location, plus the post was the feature article. He opened it, and scrolled to the bottom. There was a phone number there, but it wasn’t his. Whoever had approved the post had changed it. Why? He put the number in his phone, and was about to hit call when he noticed his car drive past, well not his car, but Past Him’s car.
Shit, he’d spent to much time here. He put his phone away, and started the van. It took a while but he managed to catch up. He’d seen enough cop shows to know not to be riding the car's bumper, but he had to get there first. The chances of passing the car without them seeing him were probably close to zero. The toaster van speed wasn’t going to let him burn past them. He could just get them to pull over, and explain it to them. That seemed like the most obvious, but this would be hard to explain. Would he believe himself, had it happened to him? It’s hard to doubt yourself while staring into your own eyes inside another man's head, well technically his own head. Either way, he didn’t need to risk doing something that would prevent him from not being able to save Jason. He thought of flashing his light and pretending to be some kind of crazed road rage driver to force them off the road. But, what if they crashed. If past Shane died, would he?
So, he was stuck behind them for the drive, he’d have to figure something else out when they got to Moe’s. But what? The cops would be there soon after, the cops also don’t hurt any of them there. He could park his van in Moe’s lot and hop out when the two cops showed up. He’d never shot a gun before, but he was sure he could get enough shots off to off at least one of them first. Seemed like a dangerous idea and a lot of ifs. Still, he followed the car all the way to Barrhead, then to Moe’s. He parked the toaster van behind the building, while just like last time, past Shane and crew parked in the front.
Shane quietly grabbed a gun from the back of the van. It was nothing big, just something automatic, he put the gun’s strap over his shoulder. He loaded a clip and cocked the gun, at least he thought he did. TV only teaches you so much about gun control. He thought of quietly watching a Youtube video about it, but decided not to.
The back of Moe’s Trailers had only one window and one door. Both lead out through the garage. Shane wiped the window with his sleeve, and peeked in. He was sure to anyone who was watching him he looked like an idiot. Automatic shotgun and a peeping tom. He watched as they looked through the shop. Then he saw himself and Kristen enter the garage. He ducked as soon as they entered, and fought back tears of happiness and shouts of joy. This was the first time he’d seen her alive since the bath tub in the hotel. He pumped his fist a couple times, he was so going to save her this time.
He peeked through the window and could see Past Shane on his phone, Kristen was still looking around. In fact, she was checking out the window he was looking through. She looked at him, confused. He waved awkwardly. Shit, so much so keeping the timeline the same. He put a finger over his lips, and pointed to Past Shane, who was still on the phone. She motioned to the door, and he shook his head. She went anyways. She opened it and waved to Past Shane signaling she was going to check it out, he gave her a thumbs up.
“How are there two of you? And why do you have a gun?” she asked eyeing the gun.
“It’s a long story but you need to get back in there.”
“Why?”
“Because you…” he paused.
“What?”
“You didn’t come out here last time, the cops will be here in a couple minutes.”
“Last time?”
“Yes ok, I’m future him,” he motioned to the building.
“I figured that much.”
“And I’m here to save you and all of them, well except me, I survive which totally sucks.”
“You’d going to save me?”
“Yes, you die, it sucks, I cried, now please get back in there.”
Kristen put a hand on his cheek, her fingers felt so comfortable on his face. “You cried? I didn’t know you still cared.”
“I always have.”
She leaned in and kissed him.
Yadda yadda yadda… Kristen pulled her pants back up and gave him a goodbye kiss, “Good luck.”
“Thanks?” Shane replied not sure what to really say, he felt kind of violated, that happened real fast.
Kristen smiled, and closed the door to the garage behind her.
Police lights flashed through the window. He was right before, now wasn’t the best time to do this. The killing that is, the sex was great where it was. He needed to blow their gooey heads off somewhere that he knew would be safer for Past Shane and crew.
He put the shotgun back and got in the van. As quietly as the van allowed, he drove off to get the last thing he needed, Smith.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
2012 Jessica: That Man Smith
Most of that first day of work was spent in the ladies’ room crying. While she only remembered up to the point where she was at the house, it was enough to make her want to blow her own brain out. The images of all the terrible shit she’d done. She’d, directly and indirectly, killed so many people. And she didn’t have any better reason for why other than that the house and those people made her do it. She changed when she was there. She didn’t know what she’d been like before but she knew it wasn’t her, this was her. She was a nice, caring person, she… the images of Moe and Nicole came back to her, and so did the tears.
She remembered messing with them when they first found the cabin, they’d followed that man Smith there. She’d had a grand time playing with them, mostly him. But she’d lead him on to kill the girl, or best neglect her to death. She’d never hurt a child utill then. Is that what kicked her out? Is that why she was free? She’d dropped down far enough, sunk to the depths that they finally would then let her go?
She knew Moe replaced Smith in the machine, despite following him in only seconds later. Time was different there, it wasn’t faster or slower, just different. Factor in when the house was untethered which was anytime someone was plugged into the machine, it jumped around everywhere. Not even she, the house itself or the people knew where or why it was going where it went. It jumped from time and place. Never more than one of its days there.
Around hour 3 or 4 of crying, she wondered if maybe Nicole had taken her place. Maybe she was the woman now. What a horrifying thought. That poor little girl trapped in the terror of that place. Jessica wished that had been the first time she’d thrown up on that day, but it was far from it. She was down to puking up mainly water now. Between the tears and vomit, she didn’t have a lot left in her.
After all the normal non-murdering first day employees went home, Jessica came out of the bathroom. She returned to her desk to gather her belongings, and never come back here. No chance she could show her face here again.
But her boss and the owner were waiting at her desk. The owner looked like he was wearing the exact same clothes he was the day he hired her at the diner. “Come on now darling, this job can’t be all that soul-crushing, can it?” the owner smiled as he talked, trying to make her feel safe.
“I’m sorry, it was nothing to do with this job. I’d love to stay, but I can’t now,” she said through tears.
“Why not?” her boss asked.
“I just… I can’t.” She grabbed her bag from her cold chair and turned to leave.
“Well, if there is ever anything we can do let us know,” the owner said still smiling.
>
She smiled back, “Yeah, thanks. You maybe have to watch this guy.” She gestured to her boss. “He’s willing to let women cry all day in the bathroom, give them space and then let them come out when there are ready. He’s the worst.” Even she was surprised she was able to joke, but it felt good. It made her feel normal. “You should probably get rid of him.”
She was about to leave, then the weirdest thing happened. The owner grabbed the closed computer monitor and beat the Boss to death with it, and the Boss just took it, no fighting back at all. Jessica said nothing, she just watched in horror. She kind of hoped he’d kill her next. But he didn’t.
“You told me to get rid of him,” was all he could say after. Even when the police came that’s all he could say. She went home and cried more that night.
When her now-husband came home from work she explained everything to him. He didn’t speak much while she went over the day’s events, he only listened. When he told her that he'd felt that ever since they’d met he had been on autopilot, she froze, and her brain slowly put things together.
Back at the house, she was able to control people, she'd tell them what to do and they'd do it. Did she still have that ability? It seemed like it. Had she suggested everything in her relationship, and her husband had just gone along with it? And her boss, he killed that man, why? Because she had suggested getting rid of him.
She couldn't stand to be near her husband that night. Did he even really love her or care for her? Was he just doing what she said?
At the hotel, she tested her theory on a couple of people. She started small by asking for an upgraded room and free breakfast, both worked so she moved to harder stuff. She had the woman in the elevator reveal her underwear color to her. And the man at the vending machine shoved his arm so far into the machine his shoulder bled. Finally, she went for something even harder. She went down to the bar, found the hottest woman there and sent her over to the most grotesque man available, then she followed them up to his room and briefly listened outside the door as they enjoyed the night.