Brink by Mikel Parry

CH – STATUES OF TIME

“Thomas! Thomas!”

Screams from an indiscernible source echoed off the fuzzy walls distorting reality completely. Thomas felt his heart beat once, twice, and then again. He was alive. His mind felt shattered, his body torn to pieces. The incessant battle had finally taken its toll. He desperately tried to open his eyes. He could hear but also feel the buzzing pleas for his life vibrating through his body. But still he remained paralyzed by fatigue.

“Grab me a cup of water!”

Thomas pried his eyes open, straining to lift his eyelids. He saw the silhouettes of a few men standing around him. One person stood closest. This was a feminine form he knew well. Pixel by pixel, the outline of a woman materialized into someone he loved—Jen. Her hazy image was looking down on him and smiling.

You’re alive! But you can’t be.

Thomas’ eyes began to water. Mixed with the incredible pain was something more; the indelible imprint that she had left on his life forever; his greatest gift taken at the moment of fruition. The disdain for the abject suffering he was experiencing was too much to bear. He closed his eyes.

I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry, Jen.

When he opened his eyes gain, her swaying image faded away like smoke rising in the air. It was quickly replaced by a more masculine frame that was coming at him quick. A splash of ice cold water pelted against his face, suddenly rocking him back to reality. He coughed up a mouthful of water and saliva that sloshed onto the pristine white floor. His insides churned. He felt like hell.

“Thomas, are you alright?”

The voice was now recognizable as Banks’s. He stood empty cup in hand, towering over Thomas, vigilantly awaiting his return. But he wasn’t alone. Jo and Roslin had joined the fray, all looking down on him earnestly. Upon seeing Roslin a surge of energy burst through his body, propelling him off the ground. He slammed his body into Roslin’s wide frame and let loose a coiled up fist of anger. It struck Roslin across the eye. Roslin respond by grappling Thomas into submission, as both Jo and Banks helped to calm Thomas’ out-of-control anger.

“Liar! What the hell did you do to them? What’s going on here?”

Roslin’s body tensed. It looked as if he was preparing an assault of his own. But he stood his ground, firm and resolute.

“Don’t you ever come at me like that again! I’ll make sure that never happens again!”

Thomas continued trying to fight while in Banks’s firm grasp, accompanied by the almost absent touch of Jo. He was struggling to keep it together. He watched as Roslin covered his eye for a moment, still feeling the bolts of anger surging through his body.

“What are you talking about?” screamed Banks at Thomas, still pulling him away from Roslin.

Thomas looked down at his chest. He remembered just how close he had come to death. He had been sucked out of the past at just the right time. His luck wouldn’t endure, this he was sure of.

“I saw her, I saw you, back in time! I saw you all fighting! I saw—”

Thomas turned and looked at Banks whose grasp on Thomas eased.

“I saw both of you there—stuck like statues, fighting and screaming—and then there was the woman . . .”

Thomas put his face in his hands. He felt like screaming.

“What do you mean, a woman?” probed Banks.

Thomas looked up sternly at Roslin.

“You left her, didn’t you? You left her to die.”

“What are you talking about? Left who?”

Thomas’ mind rattled around in his skull like a rock in a can.

“Who are you talking about?” added Banks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know who she is.”

Nothing was making sense. Even Jo had a grimace etched into his face. The sudden violence had put everyone on edge.

“That’s it. I’m pulling the plug on this. We’ve already lost too much just to have you come back answerless. I’ve got too much on my plate to keep entertaining this.”

Thomas thought to respond but refrained. In his mind, he was taking each of the men apart, even Jo. He didn’t trust any of them anymore. All could be guilty, all could be dirty. He knew what he had to do but just didn’t know how he was going to do it. He would be saying goodbye to the organization that had brought him in. He would be saying goodbye to almost all of the only deranged family he had left. His path would be walked alone.

Roslin started to speak but was promptly cut off by a loud buzz emitting from his pocket. He reluctantly answered his phone. He said nothing. His eyes said everything. They sunk deep into his skull, brows furrowed deeply. He responded with a meek, single word.

“Understood.”

Once he put the phone back into his pocket, he stared blankly out into the white room. His composure had shifted from anger to profound sorrow.

“We’ll deal with this later.”

He turned suddenly in an attempt to make a hasty exit.

“Where are you going?” yelled Thomas.

“Why does it matter to you?”

Roslin left the men alone in the room. Now Banks’s pocket buzzed. He put his phone to his ear.

“This can’t be real,” he sputtered through tightened lips.

Although Banks hadn’t divulged what had happened, the facts were all present. Thomas’s brilliant mind had already begun fitting them together. And someone else was dead.

“Come with me, now!” demanded Banks, as he headed for the door.

Thomas did as he was told. He needed an exit. As he left he glanced at Jo and nodded. Jo did nothing back. His thick glasses seemed to be temporarily fogged up by the onslaught of emotion he was experiencing.

This is goodbye.

Leaving the building, both men climbed into Banks’s car. He sped off like a bullet, screeching his tires against the pavement.

“This isn’t good. This is bad,” he mumbled angrily.

Thomas remained quiet. As the car approached the center of the city, he could see the commotion. A crowd had gathered, people standing around in shock, eyes fixed on one location. Cameras were flashing like fireworks trying to capture the harrowing event. In the midst of it all, dangling from a rope, was a man; his neck broken, his last breath taken. Across his chest hung a sign, and on it, written in bold letters, was a message to the world:

JUSTICE AND TRUTH

Thomas felt faint. He pressed a hand against the dash in front of him. The image of the deceased man swaying carelessly in the air horrified him. What was happening? Banks stopped the car and got out, leaving Thomas behind. He burst into the crowd, pushing people out of his way as he went. More sirens could be heard approaching in the distance. Things had fallen apart. This atrocious spectacle just threw things into the limelight.

Getting out of the car cautiously, he let what was happening sink in. Another death, another unknown reason, sealed in death. But this man was no agent. He was slightly aged and wore similar features to another man he knew—Roslin. Even though the thought of it disgusted him to the core it, was apparently true; Roslin’s brother was no longer among the living. His tortured soul was finally released, but in the most heinous of ways. Now was the time to sever his last tie to the organization. His trust would have to lie elsewhere. The sticky web of lies and deceit, the unspoken plans; he could only trust himself now.

Turning away from the madness, he walked towards an empty alleyway. He was within a few footsteps from disappearing into it when a powerful hand gripped him by the shoulder. He traced the hand to its source—Roslin. The man looked completely beside himself. His eyes were filled with remorse and anger. He squeezed Thomas’ shoulder violently.

“Hell’s been unleashed and you’re leaving so soon?”

Thomas tried to step away but couldn’t. Roslin’s grip was too firm. Taking a deep breath, he responded reverently.

“Let me go, Roslin. Let me go now.”

Roslin’s arm trembled. His professionally character was in shambles. The truth had sunken in. His brother was gone. Despite his efforts to remove himself by departing from mainstream society and its cares, he had been whittled to the core. No one was above the pain of the loss of a murdered family member . . . no one.

“If I let you go, you can never come back.”

Thomas pushed his sleeve over his watch. He calmly adjusted his fedora to center it just perfectly on his head. Once he was satisfied, he looked Roslin sternly in the eyes.

“I don’t plan to.”

Catching him off guard, Thomas broke free from Roslin’s clutch and sprinted down the alley. From behind, he heard Roslin give a brief chase, and then the pounding of footsteps came to an end.

“Thomas! Thomas!”

Roslin’s screams seemed almost inhuman. The tortured words of this broken man echoed off the bricks and mortar. But Thomas pressed on. He left him behind. He left them all behind. His body trembled from the fatigue and injuries he had sustained. He wouldn’t make it far. He needed a place to go. Jutting the watch on his wrist into full view, he waved his hand over the top. He had seen Banks do it, watched carefully, and memorized the steps. He was sure that manipulating their technology would result in the rest of his life behind bars. But he didn’t care. After just a little effort, the watch warned him about what he was about to do. He quickly disabled its tracking device. He was going rogue. From here on out, his goal would be to leave no trace. No breadcrumbs for the organization to follow once they launched their internal witch hunt for him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He hurled it against the wall and watched it break into a dozen pieces. He was cut off. Instinctively, he reached into his suit to pull out his gun. It was gone. But he knew that. It had been left behind with the killer. A relic now in the past, manifested again in the future and into its new master’s hands. Why had he reached for it? The thought troubled him yet intrigued him at the same time. Despite his brilliant memory, he was still just human.

I need to get out of here.

Leaving his shattered phone behind, he darted down the alley. He prayed that she would still be there; he prayed that she was still alive.

Standing outside of Barb’s apartment door, he felt himself shiver. But it wasn’t because of the cold; something else was gripping his heart in its icy clutches. The firm understanding of evil he thought he once had, had evolved into the monster he now knew. He didn’t know what to believe anymore or who to believe in. She was his last chance, his last hope.

As the door to her apartment opened, she shot a hand out and quickly pulled him inside. She glanced outside, assuring herself that no one was watching. She quickly shut the door and began examining him.

“Thomas, you look like death!”

He rambled a few lines of gibberish before collapsing against the wall.

“Barb, I don’t feel so good.”

She ran to his side and tried her best to hoist him up. She grunted under the weight of Thomas’ body as she helped him into a room with a partially made bed. She removed his coat and hat and let him lie down.

“Thomas, your face, your hand! What happened?”

Thomas rolled onto his side. He felt himself drift slightly. He was diligently trying to fight the urge to succumb to his exhaustion and pass out.

“He won again, Barb. Someone else had to die.”

Closing his eyes slowly, he heard Barb’s voice echo through his train of thought. The last thing he thought he heard her say was that she couldn’t lose him. But it seemed like she was just about to.