by G Sauvé
“What the drowned do you think happened? We stepped through the portal, and it transported us through time.”
I roll my eyes.
“I know that,” I snap, “but why are we here? Why aren’t we back in Atlantis?”
It’s Jonn’s turn to be perplexed.
“What are you talking about? Did you hit your head?”
I glance at Kara, but she seems just as confused.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asks. She goes to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, but then reconsiders and pulls away.
That’s odd. Why would she be reticent to touch me? It’s almost as if she…
“Oh no!” I gasp.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I hesitate. As desperate as I am for the truth, I fear I may not be able to handle it. But not knowing isn’t better.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” I ask. “Where were we before we stepped through the portal?”
My friends exchange perplexed glances.
“Is this some sort of joke?” asks Jonn. “Because I’m not amused.”
“Please,” I say. “Humour me.”
They share another puzzled look. Kara shrugs. Jonn merely grunts.
“We were in a park,” says my girlfriend. “Only it wasn’t like this one. It was alive, beautiful.”
“Why were we there?”
“R’ha died helping us protect the past from Avalon. You told his family of his passing, then we went for a walk. We ended up in the park where we first appeared and agreed to continue chasing Avalon. You opened a portal, and we stepped through.”
Dammit! That’s what I was afraid of.
“Is that it?” I ask.
She nods.
“Do you know what a sentinel is? How about a glove gun? Have you ever interacted with a clone? What is—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure you’re all right?”
I sigh. “All right” is the last thing I am, but how the hell am I supposed to explain that to someone who doesn’t remember anything that happened in the past month? I glance at Jonn, and his furrowed brow tells me he remembers nothing.
What happened? Why am I the only one who remembers the failed rebellion? Why did the portal send us here? Why is there no sign of our passage? Why—
A blast of yellow energy flies over my head, interrupting me mid-thought. I follow its trajectory for a moment before its presence convinces me to focus on its point of origin.
Sentinels. They advance through the darkness, their chests glowing with fierce intensity. The sight is so familiar I once again experience a sense of déjà vu. Reacting on instinct, I tear my gaze from the approaching automatons and focus on the opposite direction.
At first, I see nothing, but then two yellow glows emerge from behind a dried hedge. They advance, arms raised and palms glowing. The familiarity of the sight is impossible to deny, but I refuse to let it stop me.
“Watch out!” I call out as the blasts of energy erupt from the robots’ palms.
Unaware of the danger, my friends remain standing.
“Dammit!” I swear, realizing our survival depends on me.
I would like nothing more than to save both of my friends, but Jonn is too massive for me to tackle. Kara, on the other hand, is frail enough that a body slam will send her tumbling out of the strike zone.
I propel myself forward with the strength of a professional footballer and tackle her out of the way just as the yellow spheres reach us. We soar through the air for a moment before a dried hedge appears before us. I brace myself for impact, but the branches give way before us and we vanish in a cloud of snapped twigs and dried leaves. The landing is a little jarring, but at least we’re safe.
It takes a few seconds, but Kara eventually recovers from the unexpected tackle.
“What the drowned?” she snaps. “Why did you do that?”
I put my finger to my lips, indicating the need for silence. Her brow remains furrowed, but she nods to indicate she’s willing to comply with my request.
What’s happening? she mouths.
I beckon for her to follow me and, remaining crouched, approach the hole in the hedge caused by our tumble. It’s narrow and obstructed with branches, but it allows us to see what lies beyond. I scan the path until I spot Jonn. He managed to survive the initial attack, but it’s only a matter of time before—
A blast of yellow energy slams into him. He crumbles.
“Dad!” cries Kara. She tries to stand, but I grab her before she can.
“He’s alive,” I whisper.
“What—” she begins, but I cut her off with a hand to the mouth. She struggles against it, but I don’t let go until she calms down. I pull away and place a finger to my lips. She nods, indicating she understands the need for silence. But I can tell she’s confused. Unfortunately, I can’t explain things until I’m certain the danger has passed.
I approach the hedge and motion for Kara to do the same. Together, we peer through the hole just as the sentinels reach our fallen companion. I fear they will come looking for us, but they merely grab Jonn’s unconscious body and carry it away. Kara tries to step out of cover, but I hold her back. She could easily overpower me but chooses not to. It’s not until her father and his robotic captors get swallows up by the darkness that she finally speaks.
“What’s going on? Why didn’t we save my father?”
I sigh. I don’t feel good about abandoning Jonn, but I know from experience the worst thing we could have done is go up against the sentinels unarmed. Still, it’s with a sense of unease that I explain things to my girlfriend.
“The robots you saw are called sentinels. They’re extremely powerful. Defeating them is nearly impossible.”
Kara considers my words for a moment.
“How do you know this?”
I hesitate. I trust Kara with my life, but what I’m about to tell her isn’t something you just blindly accept. The odds of her believing me are slim. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice.
“I’ve lived this moment before,” I say.
Kara frowns.
“What does that mean?”
I hesitate, but only for a moment.
“We’re stuck in a time loop.”
Memory 44
W hat’s a time loop?” asks Kara.
“It’s something I used to think only existed in books and movies,” I say. Realizing that doesn’t answer the question, I add, “It means each time we step through a portal, it sends us back to this very moment.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” I admit, “but I’ve lived this moment before.” I tell her what happened during our stay in this time. I stick to the basics, but it still takes a while before Kara is up to date. She seems doubtful, but she doesn’t voice her skepticism.
“Why can’t I remember?” she asks.
I shrug. Jonn also remained oblivious to the time loop, which means I’m the only one who remembers what really happened. While strange, it’s in no way helpful. All I know is Avalon is responsible. It’s the only logical explanation. Desperate for answers, I scan my surroundings for a clue, but what I find is far better.
It’s a rolled parchment. Identical to the others I found, it proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that Avalon is responsible for our current predicament. Still, it’s with a growing sense of worry that I retrieve it. The message it bears is short but impactful.
Dear Will,
Pointing out your many failures would be redundant, so let’s skip the formalities and get right down to business.
You are trapped in a time loop. The only way to break the cycle is to return history to its proper course. Unfortunately for you and your troublesome friends, doing so is impossible. I have no doubt you will attempt to disprove this claim, but you will eventually grow to realize I am right. In the end, you will have but one choice to make. Death, or a lifetime of enslavement.
Enjoy,
—Avalon
&nb
sp; A heavy silence settles upon us.
We’re trapped in a time loop. We’re trapped in a time loop. We’re trapped…
The thought repeats over and over in my mind until I lose track of time. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Hours? I can’t tell. Nor does it matter. I remain trapped in this loop of despair for what feels like ages before another realization dawns on me.
I’m single.
I remember every sweet second spent in Kara’s company over the past few weeks, yet she remains oblivious to it. In her mind, we’re broken up. I consider trying to persuade her to give us another chance but now isn’t the time.
“We’ve been given another chance,” says Kara. “We must fix our mistake.”
“Avalon said it can’t be done.”
“She’s a liar. You can’t trust anything she says.”
I nod.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet. We should start by rescuing my father.”
“All right.” I ball up the parchment and toss it. “Follow me.”
I lead Kara out of cover. My sense of direction is skewed as a result of the reset, but the dust-covered path makes tracking Jonn easy. All we have to do is follow the sentinels’ footsteps, and it will lead us to our companion. Rescuing him won’t be easy, but we can deal with that when the time comes. For now, we just need to—
The door that will lead us into the depths of the underground facility opens moments before we reach it. Standing beyond it are two large shapes.
Sentinels.
They tower above us, masses of dark metal and glowing light. Their yellow eyes are fixed on us. Their arms are outstretched, and their palms are starting to glow. It’s only a matter of time before they blast us into unconsciousness.
“Get ready to run,” I whisper. “Wait for my signal.”
Kara nods.
I wait until the last possible moment.
“Now!” I yell as soon as the glowing orbs detach from the robots’ palms.
We dive out of the way just as the sizzling spheres reach us. Crouching to keep ourselves small, we bolt for cover. The first potential hiding spot we encounter is a hedge, but a well-placed sphere causes it to burst into flames. The second is a dried-up fountain, but the stone basin explodes moments before we reach it, courtesy of two powerful energy blasts. When the third also gets destroyed, we give up on trying to conceal ourselves and focus all of our energy on outrunning the sentinels. It’s not easy, but we use the automaton’s lack of slowing power to our advantage. We dodge left and right. We split up and circle back the way we came. We do everything we can think of to lose our pursuers. It takes a while, but we eventually manage it.
“What now?” asks Kara. We’ve been running for the past few minutes, yet she isn’t even out of breath.
“We… need to… hide,” I wheeze.
“Where?”
I look around, but all I see are dried hedges, fallen trees, and dusty streetlamps.
“I have… an idea,” I say. “Follow me.”
I lead her across the dark park. Reaching our destination isn’t easy because we have to keep an eye out for our pursuers, but we eventually reach our journey’s end.
“What is this place?” asks Kara, staring at the large tunnel mouth. Far more massive than the other passageways that riddle the underground facility, the one that lies before us is slightly inclined and partially obstructed by an overgrown hedge.
“This is the tunnel that led the humans to freedom,” I explain. “We should be safe here.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. We make our way into the depths of the passage. Once the mouth of the tunnel vanishes, we settle in for the long wait that lies ahead of us.
We sit in silence. Kara seems worried, but I say nothing to comfort her. I merely sit and watch. The urge to kiss her is strong, but I resist it. The young woman sitting before me isn’t the one I remember. She’s younger than my girlfriend by a full month. She also lacks the memories my Kara possesses. But deep down I know there’s but one true Kara. The one I knew is gone, and the sooner I accept it, the better.
“How long must we wait?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Long enough for the sentinels to stop looking for us.”
Silence returns. It sits with us as the seconds turn into minutes. Minutes stretch on for what feels like hours. Boredom sets in, and the desire to speak becomes unbearable.
“I love you,” I blurt out. The outburst is so unexpected I’m unable to stifle it.
Kara sighs.
“Me too,” she says, “but…”
She doesn’t finish the thought. She doesn’t have to. We both know what she’s thinking.
I nod.
Silence returns, but only for a moment.
“What is that?” asks Kara, nodding to her left.
I look, but there’s nothing. Or so I think until I notice the yellow glow. It’s dim but undeniable.
“Dammit!” I scramble to my feet.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sentinels.”
Kara propels herself off the floor and adopts a defensive stance.
“We can’t fight them,” I say. “Follow me.” I grab her hand and lead her deeper into the tunnel. Higher and higher we travel until we reach a massive door that stretches the entire width of the tunnel. To the right stands a row of lockers. Within is a wide assortment of winter clothing.
“Put these on,” I instruct, handing her a set of snow pants and a matching jacket.
“Why?”
“Just do it,” I snap. “Please,” I add when I notice her puzzled frown.
She takes the insulated clothing and puts it on. I do the same, and soon, we’re ready to brave the glacial winter. Moments later, we’re watching the door split open. I half expect to find an army of sentinels waiting for us, but the white landscape remains unbroken.
“Wow!” gasps Kara. She stares at the snowy expanse, wide-eyed.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
She nods, too stunned to speak. I stare at her for a while before the urge to study the landscape lures my gaze away.
The scenery is just as I recall. Rolling hills coated in white powder. Distant mountains of snow and ice. The occasional gust of wind picks up the amassed flakes and sprinkles them randomly among the wintery wasteland. All is white but the sky. Devoid of clouds, it’s a beautiful shade of blue. She sun shines bright, so powerful it’s blinding.
“What is it?” asks Kara. I turn to find her staring at the heap of flakes that stands atop her gloved hand.
I smile.
“It’s snow,” I explain. “Frozen water,” I add when she gives me a puzzled look.
Her frown intensifies.
“This is water?” She stares at the snow, unsure whether or not to believe me.
I nod.
“Taste it.”
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
She raises her hand and steals a few flakes with her tongue. Her expression remains tentative for a few seconds, then her lips curl into a smile.
“It is water,” she says. She takes a large bite and swallows it. Two more make it down her throat before I can stop her. By then, it’s already too late.
Her face contorts into a grimace of pain and confusion.
“What’s happening?” she asks. “My head hurts.”
I chuckle.
“It’s normal. It’s called brain freeze.”
Her grimace persists for a few seconds before vanishing.
“I don’t like it,” she says.
I laugh.
“Don’t worry. It only happens when you eat something cold too quickly.”
She stares at the snow, debating whether or not to take another bite. In the end, she opts for kicking it around and watching it float down to the ground. She reminds me of a dog witnessing snow for the first time. The only difference is she won’t suddenly start chasing her tail.
I watch her for a while before d
eciding to take charge.
“There are a lot of cool things you can do with snow,” I explain. “You can eat it. You play with it. You can slide on it. You can even lie down and make shapes in it.”
Kara’s eyes grow wide with excitement.
“You can?”
“Let me show you.”
I lie down and spread my arms and legs. Moving them up and down, I displace the snow, creating an angle-shaped imprint. Kara stares at me with a perplexed frown until I stand and reveal my masterpiece.
“Wow!” she gasps. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Wanna try?”
I don’t have to ask twice. Kara drops to the ground and starts moving her arms. In her excitement, she ruins the design, and her snow angel ends up looking more like a snow monster. She’s disappointed but refuses to give up. She repeats the process until she’s mastered it.
“What else?” she asks, eager to learn.
I look around. The nearest slide-worthy hill stands nearly a hundred metres away, so sledding is out of the question. Building a fort would take too much time, so that’s also impossible. That leaves only one option.
“Let’s have a snowball fight,” I propose.
“Y-you want to fight?” she asks, a frown replacing her grin.
I chuckle.
“It’s a game.”
“Oh. Okay. How do we play?”
“It’s simple. I’ll show you.”
I teach her how to make a snowball. She’s one hell of a fighter, but she has much to learn when it comes to winter sports. On her first attempt, she squeezes too hard, and the snowball ends up looking more like a Frisbee. Her second try is too tentative, and the ball crumbles as soon as she opens her hands. It’s not until her third attempt that she finally masters the subtle art of creating the perfect snowball.
“What now?” she asks, staring at the white sphere.
“Now,” I say, making a projectile of my own, “we fight.”
I throw the ball at her, and it explodes on her arm. Surprised, she drops her snowball, and it vanishes into the white powder.
“What was that for?” she asks.
I laugh.
“That’s how the game is played. We throw snowballs at each other.”