Make It—Interlude 20

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Mona

Mona felt a little bad about rushing the group after what had just happened, especially Sam. Something strange and scary had happened to him, and he probably wanted answers. There would be time for answers later, though. Now, the priority was getting home.

After so much searching, Mona finally knew 131 was alive. Even more than that, Mona knew where she was.

As she led the group forward, she found an unfamiliar emotion swelling inside her. Hope.

Hope of reuniting with 131. Hope of seeing her children again, of returning to her family.

After her idiot nephew had abandoned her, she’d resigned herself to being alone. After he’d left, she’d wandered this place for a few days, alone and adrift. She’d thought a lot about a paper she’d written during her third year of university for a class on insect biology. Ants, when separated from their colony, would die quickly, even with plenty of food and water. Groups and pairs of ants cut off from their colonies could last weeks or months, but a single ant would die in days.

When the only other member of her small, annoying ant colony had left her, he’d ripped away the last connection to her family, to the outside world, to normalcy. He’d assuaged his guilt by telling himself she’d be physically safe, that she could defend herself, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d taken her sense of purpose.

At least, until she’d run into a few of the Sarah fabrications.

It had been hard seeing them–painful, even–but it had reminded her of 131. If they were here, she’d thought, 131 could be here too.

With that reminder, she’d found a new sense of purpose. She’d searched every day, mapping out this place until she knew it by heart, and systematically exploring every room, every street, every house.

It had been a long time since she’d felt any real hope of finding 131, though she wasn’t sure exactly how long. Searching had become something she did out of habit, something to strive for so she could survive as a lost, lone ant trapped in a strange and hostile place.

Now, though, there was a real chance.

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8.5

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Angelina

“There’s one question I think we should be asking,” said Lachlan. “Are Sam’s newfound superpowers a permanent fixture? If you wanted to, could you fly or time travel right now?”

“They’re not superpowers,” said Sam, “and I don’t think so. I don’t think it works like that.”

“Try it,” said Angelina.

Sam frowned as though in concentration for a few seconds, then shook his head.

“Nope,” he said.

“So what brought them on in the first place?” said Lachlan.

Sam shrugged. “How should I know?”

“Was it the danger that activated them?” said Angelina.

“No idea,” said Sam. “Angelina, do you still have our notebook? We should be writing some of these questions down.”

“Okay, but my handwriting is really bad,” said Angelina.

Angelina rifled around in her backpack for a minute before finding the notebook, then pulled it out, opened it, and begin scribbling notes.

The notebook was just a touch more worn out for having been in her backpack, smudged with glittery purple ink and something that looked like chocolate.

“What did you do to that notebook?” said Lachlan.

“I don’t mind,” said Sam. “It’s already got blood all over it, so a few sparkles is nothing.”

“Good point,” said Lachlan. “Remind me to buy you a new notebook when we get out of here.”

“Let’s stay focused,” said Sam. “We’re trying to narrow down our observation. So what have we observed about all of us?”

Angelina readied her pen again.

experiment notes & stuff:

questions:

1. why did Sam get superpowers?

2. a. what made the powers activate? was it the danger?

what have we observed about all of us?

Jen

–remembers Lachlan dying 😦

–doesn’t seem to have any other powers or anything like that

Sam

–remembers Lachlan dying probably the most clearly out of all of us

–FLYING!

–weird time travel

–super cool sword skills!

–improved reflexes/faster running/more coordinated now than before

–vry fast healing

Angelina (ME!!)

–remembers Lachlan dying

–fell through reality layers? or something????

-no powers that i know of but that weird snake guy said something about me being able to time travel and that me and mrs. sharma r alike somehow??

Mrs. Sharma

–really mean T_T Lachlan & Sam say this is not a scientific observation 😦

–rly good at fighting/axes/knives

-she got away from the snake guy and apparently me and her are the only ones who were able to do that??

-we don’t know if she remembers Lachlan dying or not and she’d prob get mad if we asked

Lachlan

–does not remember dying

–NO powers 😡

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8.4

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Lachlan

“Excuse me,” said Jen. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

She slowed her stride long enough for Lachlan, Sam, and Angelina to catch up.

“So you were eavesdropping,” said Lachlan.

“We were talking right near her. It’s not eavesdropping if we’re talking near her,” said Angelina. “It’s not like she can just shut her ears down.”

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” said Lachlan.

“You didn’t,” said Angelina. “I gave it anyway.”

“I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” said Jen, “but I remember too.”

“I take it this is about my untimely demise,” said Lachlan.

“Yeah,” said Jen. “I didn’t remember at first, but then I heard what Angelina said. You know how sometimes you wake up from a dream, and you know you were dreaming, but you don’t remember it until something happens later that day to jog your memory?”

“Yeah,” said Angelina.

“Like the other day, I had a dream I was in this candy factory, and there were these lollipops that were the most delicious lollipops in the world, but if you ate them twice, you would die, and I didn’t remember until–“

“Is there a point to this little rant of yours?” said Lachlan.

“Oh, um,” said Jen. “Sorry. I was rambling again, wasn’t I?”

“You were fine,” said Angelina. “Lachlan’s just a big jerk.”

“He really is,” said Sam.

“The biggest,” said Lachlan. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Anyway, when I heard what Angelina said, it was like the memory, like, reactivated itself or something. It’s super vague, though.” Jen’s expression grew more serious. “I remember the feelings more than anything. Being really horrified and scared. It was like when you have a nightmare, and then you wake up and you’re jumpy for the rest of the day, even though you don’t really remember it.”

“Interesting,” said Lachlan. “I guess our little experiment has two more test subjects.”

“What experiment?” said Angelina.

“Should we be worried that you just called us your test subjects?” said Jen.

“Yes,” said Lachlan. “Extremely.”

“Nah, don’t listen to him,” said Sam. “It’s kinda this informal experiment we’ve been doing since we noticed my hand healed unnaturally fast. Our hypothesis was that there was a positive correlation between my exposure to this place, and my improved healing, coordination, and reflexes. Given recent events, it seems like our experiment’s gonna need rework.”

“Come on, Samurai,” said Lachlan. “You can’t rework a hypothesis mid-experiment. What kind of a scientist are you?”

“Whatever,” said Sam. “We’ll need a whole new experiment then. Our original observation was that I healed from a traumatic finger amputation in a matter of hours, and that I’ve seen a vast, rapid improvement in my coordination and reflexes.”

“How would you even sum up your new observation?” said Angelina. “You were flying with swords and apparently walking through time, Lachlan died but he’s not dead, and I don’t even know how to describe what happened to me.”

“Can you try to describe it?” said Sam.

“I fell through realities. I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Did it feel like falling backwards?” said Sam.

“Yeah! Yeah, it did, actually,” said Angelina.

“I felt that too,” said Sam.

“That’s all fine and dandy,” said Lachlan, “but we need to narrow down our observation. What do all your experiences have in common?”

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8.3

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Angelina

Angelina walked just behind Jen and Chelsea in silence, trying to make sense of the strange memories that had appeared in her head after Lachlan’s friend had fought the monster.

The memories were faint and fading quickly, like a dream she’d just woken up from, but the image of Lachlan’s blood-soaked body was still clear in her mind.

She remembered moving on instinct, turning an impossible direction, and leaving this thin layer of reality for a split second. She’d seen Lachlan’s friend–Sam, she thought his name was–and locked eyes with him for an instant. Then she’d stumbled, tearing through realities like an incandescent meteor plummeting through the atmosphere.

Then, she’d been back where she’d started, standing with the group like nothing had happened.

And Sam had flown down from the sky holding swords.

It kind of wasn’t fair. Why did he get to be the one to hold cool swords and fight monsters?

She turned to look at him walking beside Lachlan. Their eyes met, and she quickly jerked her head back around.

“You remember it too, don’t you?” he said.

She turned around again.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Remember what?” said Lachlan.

“She was there at the beginning of it,” said Sam. “I saw her for a second, and then she disappeared.”

Angelina slowed her pace, falling back to walk beside him and Lachlan.

“You were dead,” she said to Lachlan.

“So I’ve been informed.”

“Do you remember it too?” she said.

“No,” said Lachlan. “All I remember is Samurai here finally living up to his name.”

“Lachlan had a theory that this place was changing me,” said Sam. “I was thinking about it while I was walking through time–“

“While you were walking through what?” said Angelina.

“He was walking through time,” said Lachlan. “Try to keep up.”

“Okay,” she said. “So you were walking through time. As in the concept of time, I guess. Then what?”

“I was thinking about Mrs. Sharma. She can carry those fire axes around like they don’t weigh anything. And when she was fighting that thing and she jumped, it was like she was defying gravity,” said Sam. “She must have been stuck here for months at least. This place changed her. It gave her abilities.”

“Abilities?” said Angelina. “You mean like special powers?”

“No,” said Sam. “‘Special powers’ sounds so juvenile and unscientific. Like it’s just magic or something. There has to be a logical explanation for what’s happening to us.”

“A logical explanation like what?” said Angelina.

“That’s what we’re trying figure out,” said Sam. “Have you noticed anything different since you came to this place? Sharper reflexes, advanced healing? Anything like that?”

“Nothing like that,” said Angelina.

“Hm,” said Sam. “I wonder if anyone else remembers what happened?”

“C doesn’t,” said Angelina. “I already asked. Naomi doesn’t either. She seemed mad that I was asking. I think she didn’t believe me.”

“Interesting,” said Sam.

“So the question is ‘why us’?” said Angelina. “If this place changes people, why isn’t it changing any of the others?”

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15 — Interlude 19

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Ivan

Ivan studied the boy’s grainy photo on the screen. It was a typical unflattering employee photo in front of a green-gray backdrop. The kid was squinting and unsmiling, not looking directly at the camera.

“It’s weird to think about,” said Ivan. “He’s going to be part of some great scientific achievement, and he doesn’t even know it.”

“Remind me again,” said Mr. Wesley. “Who’s this kid?”

Ivan suppressed a sigh.

“The anomalies are present in his DNA, much more than any other employee we tested. They were there for Mona and some others, but not like this.”

“Meaning?”

Ivan fought the urge to roll his eyes. As much as he hadn’t liked Mona, she’d at least been a real scientist. Now, he had to deal with some clueless executive asking too many questions and pretending he knew what was going on.

It almost made Ivan miss Mona. Almost.

“It means we’ve found our blueprint. We’ve found the missing piece to make the serum work.”

Mr. Wesley frowned, rubbing his moustache.

Why are you frowning, you idiot? This is good news!

“Are we sure he’s viable? We should be running tests before we jump to conclusions.”

“I’ve already run the tests,” said Ivan. “And his viability was never in question. If he has the anomalies, we can use him.”

“It’s important to cover all our bases,” said Mr. Wesley.

“They’re covered,” said Ivan. “See?”

Ivan pointed to the part of the kid’s profile showing the positive result. Mr. Wesley looked at the screen, his expression blank.

“Ah, I see it now. The green ‘positive’. That means he’s viable?”

What is this ‘viable’ thing he keeps talking about? Did he hear that word on a medical show and just run with it or something?

“No, it–” Ivan paused. “Sure. It means he’s viable.”

“Got it.”

Mr. Wesley nodded, seemingly satisfied for a moment. Then he frowned again.

Oh, my God. What now?

“This number right here, 15.”

“What about it?”

“This means he’s only 15% viable.” Mr. Wesley phrased it as a statement, not a question.

“No,” said Ivan. “That number isn’t a percent. It’s generated by an algorithm that–“

“We need to be more than 15% sure. We can do much better than 15%.”

“Like I said before, that number isn’t a percentage of viability. It’s a measure of how strongly the anomalies are present in his DNA. The previous record for that number was 2.”

Mr. Wesley frowned again, pretending to look thoughtful.

“I’m telling you. This is it,” said Ivan. “We’re not going to find someone better. Samuel Alexander is our missing link.”

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8.2

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Lachlan

“I died?” said Lachlan. “What do you mean I died?”

Lachlan had resumed his walk beside Sam and the back of the group, although he was looking back over his shoulder a lot more now.

Sam was still missing his singlet, but he had his jacket on again. Much to Mrs. Sharma’s impatience, Sam had turned away from the group without a word soon after regaining consciousness. He’d entered a nearby shop and returned moments later with the jacket over his arm, shrugging and saying “My neodymium magnets were in the pocket. They’re extremely rare and valuable.”

Lachlan had almost pointed out that he’d seen those magnets in toy shops before, but he’d stopped himself. Sam had just saved his life after all.

“I mean just what I said,” said Sam. “I watched you die, and then something really weird happened to me.”

Lachlan frowned. After all the weirdness he’d seen in this place, he wasn’t ready to discount what Sam was saying, even if it didn’t make a lot of sense.

“What do you mean something weird happened to you? And how exactly did that lead to my miraculous resurrection?”

“It wasn’t a miraculous resurrection,” said Sam. “Let me finish explaining. Do you remember your theory from earlier about me?”

Sam didn’t look at Lachlan as he spoke, instead, staring ahead of them over everyone else’s heads as though he was staring miles into the distance. He looked lost, but at the same time, he carried himself with so much more composure than before. His expression was distant, but his posture was confident as he strode forward, never glancing down.

“That something very weird is going on with you?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m guessing whatever happened to you has proven my little hunch?”

“At this point, it’s not even a theory or a hunch. Something really weird happened to me.”

Lachlan tried not to let his concern show on his face.

“Something besides the obvious newfound powers of flight and swordsmanship, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah,” said Sam.

“And are you going to tell me what that something is?”

“It was…” Sam paused, closing his eyes. “It was hard to explain. You were lying there, covered in your own blood, and Mrs. Sharma said you were dead, but I had this overwhelming sense that I could save you. It was like my instincts took over and I started walking. I don’t understand it, but I traveled through time.”

“So what? You have the power to manipulate time now?”

“I don’t think I was manipulating it. I was just moving through it, as easily as we’re walking down this road right now.” Sam frowned. “Well, almost as easily. It felt really weird.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Kinda like falling backwards, but you never hit the ground.”

“Ah,” was all Lachlan could think to say.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” said Sam. “I don’t know how it could have happened. I was defying so many laws of physics. How could I have survived outside of time? There was no air movement, no heat… How could my body systems have functioned? Maybe you were onto something with that mad-scientist brain-in-a-jar theory. It’s the only way any of this adds up.”

“If you want my opinion, there are three possibilities,” said Lachlan. “The first is that our mad scientist friend has decided to really live up to his title.”

“What are the other two?”

“Well, one possibility is that there was some sort of shield or temporal barrier protecting you,” said Lachlan.

“Interesting. I wonder how something like that would even work,” said Sam. “What’s your third option?”

“That you changed,” said Lachlan. “That something transformed you on a fundamental level.”

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8.1

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Lachlan

Lachlan pushed himself to his feet with shaking hands, his head still buzzing with adrenaline and panic. He leaned against the shop window behind him and waited to catch his breath.

He’d been chased and grabbed by a few monsters since he’d been put in this place, but this time had been the most terrifying. His arms had been completely pinned to his sides this time, leaving him feeling paralyzed in a way that reminded him of when he’d been drugged.

The creature lay unconscious a few meters away. Sam lay near it, the sword he’d been holding on the ground beside him. Mrs. Sharma knelt beside him, feeling his pulse on his wrist. Jen stood nearby, her face knit with concern as she looked down at her boyfriend.

“Is… is…” Lachlan paused for a moment, trying to stop his voice from shaking. “Is he alright?”

“His pulse and breathing pattern are normal. I don’t see any sign of head injury.” She shook Sam lightly. “Sam. Sam, can you hear me?”

When he didn’t respond, she grasped the muscle between Sam’s neck and shoulder, twisting. He opened his eyes, squinting up at her.

“Ow,” he said. “What was that for?”

“I was testing your response to a painful stimulus. And you responded. Congratulations,” she said. “Anyway, you’re awake now. Get up.”

“Get… up?” said Sam.

“Yes, get up. There’s no time to coddle you. You don’t appear to have any serious injuries, and if you want to keep it that way, we need to move before the Dave fabrication wakes up.”

“Seriously?” said Jen.

“As eager as I am to get away from that thing,” said Lachlan, “I can’t help but notice your bedside manner could use a bit of work.”

“Damn it, Lachlan, I’m a biologist, not a doctor,” said Mrs. Sharma. “Sam, get up. If you can’t get up, one of the Stanley fabrications can carry you.”

“Nah, I’m… I’m good.” Sam pulled himself shakily into a sitting position with his good hand. “I think.”

Lachlan stepped forward, offering Sam a hand. Sam took it, and Lachlan pulled him to his feet, then turned to Mrs. Sharma.

“You know, that’s really no way to treat the king among peasants who just saved my life.”

His voice still felt shaky, but he tried to sound as normal as he could.

Mrs. Sharma rolled her eyes.

“If you’ll recall, I also had a hand in saving your life.”

“Yes, but you didn’t do it whilst flying and dual wielding swords.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant. We need to move before the Dave fabrication wakes up, or we need to take care of it permanently.”

“Take care of it permanently?” said Angelina. “You mean kill it?”

“No, I mean build a rocket ship and launch it to Saturn.” Mrs. Sharma sighed. “Obviously I mean kill it. What else would I mean?”

“I was just asking.” Angelina pouted.

“Even if we kill it, it’s only a matter of time before Zogzhesh wakes up and finds us. Or before the Sarah fabrications come back. Or before we run into some new danger. We have to keep moving.”

“But–” said Lachlan.

“But nothing. This is exactly why I was against leaving my house.”

“You mean why you were willing to leave an innocent woman stranded in this place?” said Mahender.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this–“

“Hey!” interrupted Angelina. “Is anyone going to bring up how whatever-his-name-is was flying a minute ago? And where he got those swords? And where his shirt went? Why are we not going to take a second to talk about that?”

“I hate to agree with Angelina,” said Lachlan, “but I do feel that all of her points warrant some addressing.”

“Believe it or not, I agree with you both,” said Mrs. Sharma, “but this isn’t the time or place to talk about it. We’ll keep moving now and talk about your friend later.”

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Just in Time — Interlude 18.3

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Sam

Sam took another turn and the wild spinning in his head stopped, lifting like a fog. He was close enough that he could hear Lachlan speaking at the back of the group.

“Seriously? ‘We’ve got company’?” said Lachlan. “I didn’t realize we were starring in a mediocre action movie.”

He waited to hear his own reply of “shut up”, but there was only silence. When Lachlan spoke, his voice was almost too quiet for Sam to make out.

“He’s gone. Sam’s gone.”

“Gone?” came Mrs. Sharma’s reply. “What do you mean gone?”

Lachlan replied, but this time Sam couldn’t make out his words.

So when Sam traveled back to a time he’d already been, his past self would vanish?

He made a mental note to ponder the implications of that later, but now, he had a mission. The important thing was he didn’t have to worry about causing a paradox by having two version of himself exist at once or something.

A shadow shifted in the corner of Sam’s eye, catching his attention. He turned his head. The creature was there, shambling towards the unsuspecting group. Towards Lachlan.

Sam broke into a run, surprised at how light he felt on his feet. Despite being somewhat slight, he’d never been a fast runner. In gym class, he’d finished the mile run in just over 15 minutes. Now, he was moving about twice that speed.

He heard Lachlan cry out as the creature grabbed him, and saw commotion break out among the group. Sam had to act now.

He was armed and ready to fight the monster, but he was so much smaller than it was. If only he could attack from above…

Wait a minute. Maybe he could. He could move in impossible directions, directions that froze time around him as he walked. A mundane direction like ‘up’ was nothing compared to that.

He lifted both feet off the cobblestones and soared upward, fifteen feet above the street.

The group had spotted him now and were staring up at him. Even the monster paused, contorting its head upward to see what had captured everyone’s attention.

Sam took advantage of its distraction, flying toward it and slashing at it with the longer sword in his good hand. It let out a surprised shout and twisted around, snapping a small featureless mouth at him.

“Let him go,” said Sam.

Lachlan’s eyes went wide as he spotted Sam for the first time.

“S… Sam? W-what?”

Sam held the swords up, crossing them in front of him and then slashing the blades downward in a way that he hoped looked cool and intimidating.

The swords were heavy, and Sam didn’t know how to wield them beyond what he’d seen on TV and in movies, but he had enough control over his body that his movements felt smooth and graceful, at least with his left hand. His right hand was a different story; he was able to keep a firm hold on the sword with the bony parts of his missing fingers, but there was an uncomfortable, prickling pain every time he gripped it too hard.

“What, am I supposed to be scared of some loser kid playing with swords?”

The creature unwrapped an arm from Lachlan and swung it at Sam’s head. Sam blocked it with the larger sword, but the impact still shook his body and sent him flying backwards through the air. He stopped a few feet short of the roof of a building and flew back toward the creature.

Behind the creature, Mrs. Sharma retrieved her axes and started forward.

“No,” she said, “but you should be scared of me.”

The creature twisted its head back toward her, whipping out its arm as she approached in an attempt to knock her off her feet. She leapt over the outstretched arm.

While the creature was distracted, Sam slashed at its back again. This time, he drew blood.

Fighting off the mental image of Lachlan lying on the shop floor surrounded by his own blood, Sam held his breath and slashed again.

The creature roared in pain and outrage.

It threw Lachlan, tossing him aside as casually as one would toss a used sock, and Sam’s heart dropped as Lachlan flew through the air toward the same shop window.

Then Sam remembered. Everything was different now.

Now, he could do something about it.

His hands shaking, he dropped the swords, and made one more sickening turn. Time stopped around him and Lachlan hung suspended in midair.

Sam fought off a wave of nausea as he floated downward, wrapping his arms around Lachlan and pulling him to the ground.

He held Lachlan tight as he turned back into linear time, and found himself pushed forward onto the ground by the force of Lachlan’s fall, his back scraping against the cobblestones. An object in motion stayed in motion, apparently, even where time-warping shenanigans were concerned.

The two boys landed side by side on the curb, Sam’s arms still around Lachlan. Sam could feel Lachlan shaking.

Sam looked over at Lachlan, who was looking at him with such intensity it made him nervous. Sam broke eye contact, unwrapping his arms from Lachlan and standing up.

Sam saw the swords a few feet away from him and headed toward them, grabbing the longer sword in his right hand.

The monster spotted him and let out an inhuman laugh.

“Go ahead, loser kid,” it said. “Try it.”

Sam hovered a few feet off the ground, staring the creature down.

“Alright,” he said. “You asked for it!”

He flew swiftly toward the creature and slammed the hilt into its head. It crumpled to the ground.

Sam followed suit, strength leaving his body as he dropped downward toward the street.

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Change — Interlude 18.2

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Sam

Sam had always considered himself clumsy and uncoordinated, and it had never really bothered him. As far as he’d been concerned, having a sharp mind was much more important than sharp reflexes.

Until now, he hadn’t known what he’d been missing.

His reflexes had been a little sharper before when he was catching the chip bags, but it hadn’t been anything like this. He walked onward in a direction that didn’t make sense to him, monitoring and adjusting his gait without even having to think about it, stabilizing himself as easily and naturally as breathing, even with the dizzy, heart-lurching sensation that should have overwhelmed him.

When he’d been a kid, he hadn’t been able to walk without looking down at his feet. Once, his fourth grade teacher had misinterpreted it as a sign of a ‘bad attitude’ and demanded Sam lift his head. He’d obeyed, and promptly turned his ankle and tumbled to the ground.

Even at his current age, he’d always had to look periodically at the ground as he walked to make sure there were no obstacles and his feet were in the right place.

Now, he walked with his gaze straight ahead, without so much as a glance downward. He’d never felt so confident, so comfortable with his movements, and he was moving in a direction no human should have been able to go.

Somehow, he was walking through time.

He could see his destination as plainly as he saw the houses and shops around him, a point a few minutes before the creature had come up behind them.

He thought about warning everyone, but he’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked.

His reflexes were so sharp now, and his movements so precise. He thought of his conversation with Lachlan earlier, of Lachlan’s very unscientific hypothesis.

“Something very weird is going on with you.”

He thought of Mrs. Sharma, an average-height, slightly malnourished-looking woman, and how she was able to swing fire axes around as easily as if they weighed an ounce.

He didn’t understand it, but Lachlan had been right. This place could change people. It had changed Mrs. Sharma, and now it was changing him.

Not being able to wrap his head around what was happening to him made him feel unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with the violent spinning in his head. But he didn’t need to understand it right now. Now, he had to save his friend.

He’d be able to fight the monster on his own; he knew it. He didn’t feel much stronger, but he was faster, more alert, with total control over his movements.

Mrs. Sharma and the Stanleys or whatever they were called hadn’t been able to save Lachlan. But they hadn’t had the element of surprise on their side.

Sam just needed a weapon.

His stomach heaved as he changed his course, making a right-angle turn in another direction that didn’t make sense to him, moving through space perpendicular to time. He could just make out his companions down the road, standing still, as though frozen in time.

He turned back toward Mrs. Sharma’s house, moving as quickly as he could, though he supposed the word ‘quickly’ didn’t apply here. If his speed was the magnitude of the rate of change of his position with time, and he wasn’t moving through time, how could he really be ‘quick’?

Despite his missing shirt and jacket, he didn’t feel cold anymore. He hadn’t since he’d made that strange turn and frozen time around him. He didn’t feel warm either; he felt a complete absence of temperature.

Since temperature was the kinetic energy of particles, if time had frozen, temperature would have frozen too. But if no energy was being moved from the matter around him as heat, wouldn’t the temperature be absolute zero? Shouldn’t he have frozen to death instantly?

For that matter, how was he breathing? How was he still alive independent of time? If time was frozen around him, how was air moving in and out of his lungs and blood pumping through his veins?

He shook his head. Right now, he had to focus. He could worry about all the laws of physics he was breaking later.

No, he corrected himself. ‘Right now’ and ‘later’ weren’t concepts that applied anymore.

He reached Mrs. Sharma’s white stucco house and entered, heading down the hall to the weapon storage room. He picked up the two discarded swords, effortlessly this time even as heavy as they were, instinctively knowing the precise grip to use with his right hand. Holding them up the way he’d seen a character do on TV once, he left the house and headed back the way he’d come.

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Don’t Close Your Eyes — Interlude 18.1

Anna B.3 Comments

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Content Warning: Death

Sam

Mrs. Sharma looked up from where she was leaning over Lachlan, and Sam’s chest lurched at the sadness on her stoic face.

“What is it?” he said. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s stopped breathing,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Can’t you do CPR or something?” said the girl with brown hair. “Can’t you help him?”

“He’s lost too much blood,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I’m sorry.”

“What… what do you mean?” said Sam.

“Your friend is gone.”

Gone?

Just like that, he was gone?

How was that possible? Just a few minutes ago, he’d been walking around, making fun of Sam, talking and complaining about being stuck here…

No. Mrs. Sharma was wrong. Lachlan wasn’t gone; Sam could feel it somehow. He was dead here, in this time and place, but that didn’t make him gone.

There was still something Sam could do to save him, though he didn’t understand it exactly.

Sam prided himself in being able to understand the logic behind most everything he encountered. On the rare occasion he couldn’t wrap his head around something, he usually liked to step back and analyze a situation before he acted.

He didn’t bother analyzing this time.

The sounds around him begin to blur and overlap–talking, arguing, and at least two people crying–until they sounded like distant white noise.

Sam took a step in a direction he didn’t understand.

On the first day of his internship, he’d been forced to do a trust fall; to stand on a picnic table and drop backwards, to hold his breath, close his eyes, and entrust his safety to a bunch of morons standing below him. He’d lost his nerve standing on the table, refusing to move to the edge and fall, and the orientation leader had told him he was too hostile, too belligerent. He hadn’t argued, because somehow being labeled difficult was less embarrassing than admitting he was scared.

Finally, Chad from marketing had convinced Sam to turn around, to move a little closer to the table’s edge and see how he felt. If he still wasn’t comfortable, he could always get down, but he should at least try being a good sport.

As soon as Sam had moved close enough to the table’s edge, Chad had winked at the orientation leader, and Sam had found himself pushed from the edge of the table, airborne, tumbling backwards as his heart lurched into his throat and spun around.

The whole exercise had done absolutely nothing for his ability to trust strangers.

The sensation Sam was feeling now, as he took that first strange step, reminded him of falling off that table, if that heart-lurching feeling had been multiplied a hundredfold. It was all the worst parts of riding a looping roller coaster; Sam fell backwards, forwards, and down at the same time, his sense of equilibrium setting off blaring alarms in his head.

All the while, his feet were still on the ground, moving one in front of the other.

For a moment, he turned to his side–though which side, he wasn’t sure–and saw one of the girls in their group. It was the dark-haired girl with some kind of European accent, the one who was friends with Chelsea.

The girl looked at him, her eyes wide with panic and confusion, then stumbled, falling to the ground, blurring, and vanishing from view.

Sam continued walking, following his instincts because he had nothing else to go on.

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