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

note, is he still past me if I’m in the past too? Isn’t the past now the present? I don’t know.

Anyway, approximately fifty-three minutes from now my phone would tell me if it weren’t dead again! What the heck, I just charged it? I fish a plain, black plastic, rectangular cube out of my other pocket. WHAT THE HECK! Does this TRU thing only work when it wants to?

I touch the screen and nothing happens. I shake it, again nothing. Panic rears its ugly head just a bit and I shake the device even harder, gripping it with both hands as I do so. What makes me think I can go trip-trailing down the time stream? I so do not want to be stuck in the past, even if it is only two weeks ago! It’s not like I’d be able to have my own life with me already here living it.

Suddenly a dull glow blurs from my fists and I stop my jumping up and down and good thing too because my frantic dance is drawing the attention of the early morning traffic, pedestrian and otherwise. The last thing I wanna do is draw any attention while in possession of a time machine. Thank god it’s working now! So I wonder if the thing works on some kind of kinetic energy, it’s a possibility I suppose. I’ve seen it with watches. I’ll be sure to investigate this mystery later.

I take off in the direction of the track and barely make the bus I want. I wave the bus down as it careens away from the curb and it comes to a screeching halt. Winded from the light run I feed my money into the machine sitting next to the driver and take a seat. As the bus takes off again I stare out the window and contemplate my plan. I finally admit to myself that I’m just a little bit out of my league here but it’s still not enough to stop me. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get to the track, I’ll still have time to kill before I get there. Oh well I’ve got a whole bus ride to figure it out.

My brain is a bowl of cold oatmeal and like a stuck spoon the only idea to penetrate its congealed surface is- I’m going to have to confront my past self when he gets to the track. Another cardinal rule of time travel broken without qualm but who knows maybe I’ll think of an alternative before then. I hope so ‘cause the bus is stopping and I’ve only got another couple blocks to hoof it before I’m there myself.

A cloud of black diesel smoke engulfs me and I cough a farewell to my old friend the bus. Once upon a time I was a full time public transit rider but my second job led to the acquisition of my automobile and it’s been some time since our paths have crossed. As the smoke clears a figure on the other side of the street becomes visible, a man and he’s clearly looking right at me. A chill goes up my spine and I begin walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the track. A glance to my left confirms I have a tail. He’s wearing a long jacket and I think I see a rifle concealed within its shadows, a couple brief glimpses as he walks. Not waiting to see if he follows I duck into an alley and begin running to beat the wind. I don’t know who this guy is but he doesn’t look like any Hench I’ve ever seen.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t think I can go to the track now. This gunman knew exactly where I’d be, how? I didn’t even know what I was going to do until this morning and that’s two weeks from now! No matter, I’ll think on the fly. I zigzag down streets and alleys, all the while maintaining a direction away from where I lost the gunman, away from the dog track and any chance I have of preventing things from going south between the bookie and I. The little voice in my head takes this opportunity to ask why I’m running, I have a time machine. I dodge into another alley and skid to a stop.

Blazing bright incandescence bursts forth from TRU’s screen like a ray of light from God as I rip the device from my pocket. I press and scroll until the TRAVEL button lights up and press some more. I stretch and snap back and this time a car does hit me. THWACK! The bumper clips me and I go over the vehicle’s front quarter panel. I bounce off a dumpster and everything goes black.

 

How many times can you have a near death experience in a week? I think if I have many more I’ll lose track! I wake up in a hospital room. I’m semi-conscious, unsure of my surroundings, and definitely in need of some painkillers… OOH, I hurt! Wake up, wake up, all I have to do is wake up just a little more.

My vision defrosts slowly and I groggily survey the room through a sea of pain. A twitch in my left side as my head turns and suddenly it’s an ocean. Oh, this is no good. What am I supposed to do now? Where’s TRU? Nausea from the combined pain of my body and my situation and, crippling pain or not, I bend over the bedrail to regurgitate noisily.

My pulse monitor slips off my finger and I flatline.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…

The ‘P’ doesn’t come but three nurses do, two women and a man. The man is in a state of panic. One of the women looks, of all things, bored! And, wait a minute; the other one… the other one is Staci! Oh yeah, did I mention Staci’s a nurse.

I groan more from the fact that it’s Staci helping me sit upright than from the pain. And the worst part is it isn’t even Staci, it’s Staci’s past self. Hmm, it seems as a defense mechanism I refuse to think of these past incarnations as real people. Interesting on a psychological level but not a very appropriate tangent of thought for this particular situation, me thinks.

My head is once again engulfed in beautiful soft goose down and I try to concentrate on what Staci has to say but I can’t. “The paaiiin!” I wail. Man I can be such a baby. Okay, maybe I’m playing it up just a little but hey, I did just get hit by a car after all.

A syringe in my I.V., a surge of sunshine and my aches and pains fade to a dull roar. Man, I’m tired. I slip back off to sleep.

My room slumbers but I’m awake. I peer through the shadows and try to find the clock. I can hear it ticking but can’t see it. I chuckle softly, it seems time is my new obsession. But it’s dark and quiet and this leads me to believe that it’s night. I’d like to know what time of night. Not for any real reason I realize, my body tells me it’ll be a couple days before it’s ready to leave. With this realization I close my eyes and let myself drift off.

When I awake once more I’m in pain. Not the excruciating pain I felt the first time but it’s there. Looking around I don’t see any way in which to administer my own meds but I do see a button inscribed “CALL” and I reach out slowly to press it. Yeah, the pain has definitely diminished somewhat. I retract my arm a bit quicker and wince, yeah, only somewhat.

My self-exam is cut short by the nearly silent whisper of the door followed by, “Oh Davey, you’re awake. How are you feeling? You look like you’re feeling better!”

I smile weakly. “I’m in one piece anyway. How about getting’ some more meds babe?”

Staci’s forehead scrunches up and concern fills her voice, “Pretty painful, huh? I bet it is.” She moves around and pulls a syringe out of one of her pockets and smiles angelically. “I thought you might need this, it’s been a while since your last one.”

“How long have I been here?” I ask while she administers the syringe into my saline line. My euphoria returns but I don’t go out again.

“Almost forty-eight hours since the guy dropped you off. He was driving a Volvo, the guy who hit you, that’s why I’m not surprised you’re in pain. Volvo’s are tuff. He said you just appeared out of nowhere, can you believe it? I think everyone must say that.” Staci’s laughter tinkles sweetly.

“Stace, where’s my stuff?”

She stops mid chuckle and answers with a frown, “Oh, well they cut your clothes off but your shoes, wallet and everything else you had on you is right over here.” She walks over and smoothly opens a drawer.

“Um, will you hand me my phone?” A shot in the dark.

“Sure,” she removes my battered, little Samsung smart phone from the drawer. “Oh, it’s dead though.

Drat, my heart sinks.

“Never mind then,” I tell her and close my eyes in contemplation.

“You know when we had dinner last week I had no idea the next time I saw you would be here. I wish it wasn’t like this but isn’t it so weird how we keep running into each other?”

Whoa! Hit the brakes! “Last week?” I ask.

“Yes, silly, when we had dinner.” She looks at me like I’m touched in the head and all I can do is groan.

When I’m using TRU to flee through time I need to pay more attention to the date before pressing TRAVEL. “We had dinner last week?”

“Yeah, du-uh.”

Last week would mean I’m in the future, after I deliberately left for the past and after my run in with the Hench. Well then, I suppose this isn’t too bad. It seems I lost TRU but at least I’m alive, and there are no extra me’s around to ruin my life. The Hench think I’m dead, not necessarily a bad thing and even though I’m broke as a joke I suppose I can somehow find a way to quietly leave town. This is gonna take some careful planning. Good thing I’m laid up in a hospital bed with nothing better to do. I allow Staci’s voice to put me back to sleep.

 

A week later and I’m being rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair. Not by Staci, she has today off, but the green eyed brunette who has the shift is even more stunning. I swear, with all the tail I’ve seen running around this place since I’ve been here, it could be General Hospital.

After being inside for eight days the sun burns into my retinas and causes my eyelids to shut involuntarily. Man it’s a beautiful day! I carefully grunt my way free of the wheelchair and stand on my own two feet. I’ve gotten pretty friendly with all the nurses here so green eyes gathers me up in a warm, pillowy hug farewell and returns to her duties at General Hospital. I can’t help but enjoy the view as she walks away and smiling, I face the street. First thing’s first, I need to find a bus.

I can’t help it; I’ve made peace with being stuck in the (near) future but I have to know, if I can, what happened to TRU. The bus I want pulls up to the curb and I get on, ride it down to the next stop, get on that bus and take it within the vicinity of the alley where I was hit by the Volvo. Still aching from my accident I gingerly walk the final few blocks.

Tall brick buildings to either side, a scattering of tattered newspaper and old concert flyers, the usual city debris accumulated in its corners; the alley looks much the same as I last