Out of Time - Ryan Matthew Harker (short books to read TXT) 📗

long. I instinctively become aware of another’s presence. Jerking my head up and opening my eyes as I do so, I experience only superficial surprise to see Wolfman staring down at me with his inhuman eyes.

“Would you like to come out now?” he asks politely from a doorway that wasn’t in the seamless wall just a moment ago.

I surge to my feet and fly at him. I have every intention of murdering him, my nerves are actually tingling with the anticipation of it, but he calmly raises his hand and I’m completely frozen in mid-lunge.

“Mr. Jones, please, won’t you be civilized about this?”

“Civilized!” I yell through clenched teeth. “You’re going to lobotomize me and you want ME to be civilized?!”

Wolfman frowns with clear distaste. “Lobotomy is the furthest thing from the reprogramming procedure,” he explains. “Mr. Jones, afterwards you will still be entirely yourself, you’ll only have been purged of your irrational desire to chase across the temporal mulitverse after a device that your limited perception of reality can never fully respect. As a consequence any and all memories of your damaging meanderings will have perished. We don’t wish to harm you, only to have you removed as the threat you’ve become. I assure you, when we are done we will deposit you back into an appropriate timestream in a universe comparable to your own. It will be as if none of this had ever happened.”

Wolfman being a telepath I don’t have to tell myself to guard my thoughts closely. Although my innate pride and sterling sense of self is never going to allow him or any other person to tamper with my mind, still the first thought that rises above all others is that perhaps it would be nice to return to the life I knew before TRU. This is the thought I cling to, desperate to be free of whatever stasis Wolfman has inflicted upon me and not have him aware of my true intentions.

“Yes, Mr. Jones, wouldn’t it be nice to be able to live in the safety of your mundane life once more. No more of this randomly traipsing about the timestream, mucking about with reality, endangering the existence of your fellow man? Why, we could even set things so that your unfortunate dealing with the bookie and his Hench, which played catalyst to this whole sordid affair, would have never happened. You would be free and clear of your fiscal obligations and able to live in peace, free of their persecution.”

It’s a rather generous offer, when you think about it, but I come too far, change and grown too much as man through the years of Time travel to ever seriously consider going back to being the self centered womanizing, slacker that I once was. I clung to the feeling that this was what I truly desired though and projected it just as hard as I could, subduing my murderous rage of only moments before as I did so. I feel the stasis weaken as Wolfman lowers his arm and find myself in a crumpled heap upon the floor.

“I’m pleased that you see the reason in our offer,” Wolfman’s smile is feral.

“I don’t seem to have a choice in the matter,” I concede as I pick myself up and brush myself off. “Besides,” I shrug casually, trying not to lay it on too thick. “I am getting tired of all this temporal nonsense.”

“Very good, Mr. Jones. Won’t you follow me, please?”

Wolfman turns and walks away and I slip up the cell’s smooth surface to follow him. Upon exiting through the doorway I find myself in a brightly lit hall. I turn to take a last glance at the room I had just left only to see a smooth and seamless wall. I shake my head. Alien technology, or future technology? Hmm, perhaps both. I hurry to catch up with Wolman’s retreating back.

“Where’s Sammi?” I ask again. “You said she was on the ship.”

“She is,” Wolfman confirms without looking back. He keeps walking but doesn’t elaborate.

“And?” I prod.

Wolfman glances over his shoulder and raises his eyebrow at me before turning away again. “I wouldn’t worry about her,” he reveals. “You won’t be seeing her again.”

I scowl at his back. The smug inflection of his words is really annoying me. “Why even bring her along?” I challenge.

“It was an accident,” Wolfman admits.

“An accident,” I scoff. “I wouldn’t think that a people of your intellectual caliber would make mistakes.”

Even from behind Wolfman nearly glows with pleasure as he replies, “Why thank you Mr. Jones,” but then he sighs and the glow fades. “But actually it was a technical error. You see, the two of you were lying so close together that the beam used to transport you aboard the ship couldn’t differentiate one person from the other. It beamed you both as one.”

I nod to myself. Makes sense as far as my science fiction shadowed education in physics could understand. “She’s safe though?” I ask, sure that she is. Wolfman may be somewhat shady of personality but, as far as I can tell, he’s been nothing but a straight shooter with me and his intentions are honorable. He truly believes I’ll destroy Humanity and has obviously gone above and beyond to prevent me from doing so. I find I sort of admire him, at least for that.

“Of course, Mr. Jones. We have her secluded in a stasis pod much like the one in which you were placed. she’s quite comfortable and unknowing of her circumstances. We’ll return her to where she was as soon as we’ve concluded our business on Mars.”

I digest this news slowly, then my thoughts wander and a puzzle piece falls out of the ether to smack me across the face. The piece is a comment Wolfman had made earlier that makes no sense but I had allowed to slip by me unnoticed. “Hey,” I start. “what did you mean when you said, ‘the extinction of MY species’? Shouldn’t you have said, ‘OUR species’?”

My question stops Wolfman dead in his tracks. He turns and lays his unblinking wolf stare on me. There’s an intensity there and the alien quality I noticed about him when we first met is more apparent than ever. I cringe uncontrollably.

“Yes, you now know,” the incisors in his smile gleam wickedly. “Now, now, Mr. Jones there’s no reason to be alarmed. Your realization changes nothing. I am the same man I was before.”

His intensity fades and regain my senses, “You mean, you’re not a man at all. So what then, you’re an... alien?”

“You’ve already made up your mind,” he confirms. “However, we prefer the term ‘ORions’.”

“I see...” I don’t. “If you’re an alien, why are you so interested in Humanity?”

Wolfman steps forward and places his hand on my shoulder. I shiver a bit at the foreign contact but keep from flinching. “Because we need humanity, Mr. Jones. If not for the human race we wouldn’t have advanced much farther than Neanderthals.”

I feel my eyes go wide, the astonishment sweeps over me like a drug. I take a step back to escape his grasp. “You’re telling me now that, not only am I responsible for the destruction of my own race, but also for the continued existence... wait, no, not the continued existence, but the very evolution of your species into, what, hyper-intelligent super freaks!”

Wolfman crosses his arms and looks the closest to an emotion as I’ve seen yet, exasperation. “Mr. Jones, for a reasonable man, you display a remarkable aptitude for hysteria.”

“I’d ask you to put yourself in my shoes, but with not being a man and all, I doubt you can.” Wolfman only shakes his head at my remark and walks away. Unable to do anything else, I follow.

What a mess I’ve gotten myself into this time.

 

 

Sammi opens her eyes and squints against the bright glare of the white light that surrounds her. She’s floating in the middle of a white room the shape of an egg’s interior. Where’s Davey, she thinks and struggles against the antigravity bonds. Her struggle is brief, she stops squirming when she finds herself upside down. Staring at the floor this tough and beautiful, young woman begins to cry. Where is she? How did she get here? Where’s Davey? Her tears bead up off her cheek and break free of her skin to drift around her head.

After a good cry Sammi squirms and flails her arms until she’s floating upright again. Taking charge of her emotions and gathering her wits she carefully studies the room around her, it doesn’t take long. The walls are a smooth, glossy white that reflects the light brilliantly. She squints against the gleam of the walls and tries to find any discrepancy that might indicate a way out. She can’t see anything, no seams, no vents, not even an electrical outlet.

She cries again.

After the tears stop for a second time she takes an inventory of her possessions. They’re scant and not of much use. She does find her cigarettes though, and some matches. Putting a cig to her lips she strikes a match and lights it. As the burnt sulfur smell of the match drifts about her she takes a deep breath, inhaling the cigarette’s soothing effects. After holding the smoke in her lungs a moment she exhales with a satisfied sigh. She couldn’t have anticipated what happens next.

“Warning! Fire, Fire!” a digital voice sounds off in her cell. “Please evacuate immediately!”

The antigravity cuts out, gravity returns, and Sammi plummets six feet to the floor. Somehow her cigarette doesn’t break in the fall and as she picks herself up off the floor it dangles crookedly from her lips. Taking another pull she gasps in disbelief, there’s now an open portal where once was only smooth, unbroken wall. Not wasting a moment she flicks her cig to the floor, slips her way up its curvature, hurdles out of her cell, and finds herself in a long hallway.

Scarcely able to contain her enthusiasm at her sudden freedom she dashes down the hall, passing many doors along the way. As she runs by one opens with a loud whoosh. She jumps at the unexpected noise and freezes in her tracks. Turning slowly she stares at the open door with a mixture of curiosity and fear. For almost a full minute she stares at the door, but nothing happens and no one emerges. Utilizing extreme caution born of a lifetime running around sewers and evading Zenociders, she slowly approaches the door, inch by inch.

Back flat against the wall Sammi reaches the edge of the door and peers around the jamb. Not sure what to expect she’s prepared to flee at the slightest hint of trouble. Fortunately her fears are unjustified as the room beyond the door’s threshold is empty. Empty, that is, except for a table conveniently laid out with her and Davey’s belongings. Slipping silently through the door her grin smiles as broadly as Fortune’s just had.

Once more, her hand cannon is in her hand, Davey’s AR is slung over her shoulder, his Colt is tucked into her waist, Sammi peaks her head into the hallway. The coast is clear so she starts running again, only slightly slowed by the weight of the weapons.

The fugitive woman presently comes to a bank of elevators, one of which opens and she ducks behind a corner. A somewhat strange looking man exits the elevator, he has pointed ears, slate blue wolf eyes, sharp incisors. The man turns away from her hiding place and walks the other direction to disappear around a corner of his own. Gun in hand Sammi approaches the elevators and randomly hits the down button. She has to find Davey. The elevator opens, thankfully empty, and she jumps inside.

Upon reaching the bottom she holds her breath and prays for another empty hall on the other side of the opening doors. Though not sure who, or what, she prays to, none-the-less her prayer’s answered and she leaves the shelter of the elevator unhindered.

Across the