[Tense breathing]

[Sounds of minor movement]

MONICA [UTTER SHOCK]: Jake?

JAKE [SHOCKED]: Monica?

MONICA [RELIEF]: Jake.

DAVE: Monica?

MONICA [DISBELIEF]: Steve?

JAKE [CONCERN]: Monica?

MONICA [PAINED]: Steve?

DAVE [DISBELIEF]: Mum?

MONICA [RELIEF]: Steve.

[Short pause]

JAKE: Rocky?

[PAUSE]

MONICA: Goddamnit Jake, you always knew how to ruin an emotional moment. Fuck you very much for that.

JAKE: You’re fucking welcome, Monica. It’s great to see you too.

MONICA [Deep breath]: Steve. Dear. Just give me a moment. Jake: before you voice any of your feelings. Before you vent what you think of me . . .

JAKE: Monica . . .

MONICA: Ah, tut, tut, tut. Not a word. Keep your lovely lips sealed. For now. We need to talk. About everything. I know. Yes. You’re completely right. But first. And foremost. I need time. With my son. You okay with that?

JAKE [Letting out breath]: Yes, Monica. Absolutely. I want you to have as much time as you need with Dave . . . I mean Steve.

MONICA: Dave?

JAKE: Just . . . Don’t worry about it. He’ll explain it. I’m gonna go now. Check out some of these awesome views. When you’re done . . . When you’re ready, you let me know.

MONICA: Thank you, Jake. That means a lot.

[Walking away sounds.]

DAVE: Mum . . . Is it really you?

MONICA: Yes, dear.

DAVE [Close to tears]: How are you . . . Here?

MONICA: Shh. Honey, just come here. Give me a hug. I need one really bad.

DAVE [Crying]: Okay. Me too.

[Hugging sound]

MONICA [Teary eyed]: Oh god, it’s SO good to hold you. And feel you. And breathe you in . . .

DAVE: Sameses.

MONICA [laughing]: Oh god. I haven’t heard that in SO long. That’s how I know it’s really you, Steve.

DAVE: I go by Dave now, mum.

MONICA: Oh nonsense, you’ll always be my little Stevie.

DAVE [whining, laughing]: Mum, I hate it when you call me that. And I’m serious. Can you be serious for a second. Please.

MONICA: Okay, hun. Hit me with it.

DAVE: I’m Dave now. It’s . . . It’s who I’ve been for a long time. It’s who I remember being as far back as . . . I can remember. Sort of. I do have memories of being here . . .

MONICA: The Ostium Network?

DAVE: Yes. Is that what it was called?

MONICA: What it is called. Yes. It’s still here. Even if the people aren’t.

DAVE: Right. Okay. I can remember bits and pieces. Being here. Before. With you in some of them too. It’s been coming back to me. Just bloody slowly.

MONICA: Any idea of what’s been helping? Has there been a certain trigger bringing your memories back?

DAVE: Not that I can really think of . . . I suppose it’s seeing everything here. The different places. Buildings I’ve visited before. Such as when I found my apartment. I knew instantly what my passcode was. It was . . . Thrilling.

MONICA: Okay then. I think I’ve got just the right regimen for you: for the last however many days it’s been I’ve been making a series of recordings. Some of them . . .   Parts of them I never want to ever have near your precious ears.

DAVE: I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.

MONICA: Oh honey, there sure is. And you’re not going find out. We’re leaving it at that. Capiche?

DAVE: Capish?

MONICA: It’s a saying. Italian I think. But it became popular in the English vernacular in the late twentieth century. It means understand. Get it?

DAVE: Oh yeah . . . I forgot how into that period you were. Could barely drag you out for a bite to eat or even a drink. You couldn’t get enough of it. Hey . . . I’m starting to remember it. All that time you spent in your apartment. Working and working. Learning and revising. I never bloody saw you.

MONICA: Yeah. I was in pretty deep. Fucking lost it there. Kinda.

DAVE: You know what . . . [Laughing]

MONICA [Curious]: What?

DAVE: I just had my first solid memory. Came back to me all of sudden. Of talking to that bloody photo of the two of us. Sitting in my living room talking to it. Because you were too busy. That’s fucking hilarious that is. And so bloody you!

MONICA: I’m glad you think it’s funny. To me it’s kinda sad. Actually, very sad. I’m sorry, Ste . . . Dave. I’m sorry I was like that. Treated you like that. That wasn’t right.

DAVE: Oh it was fine. I think I was doing that as more of a personal joke. So I could take the piss with you later. And thank you for calling me Dave. I know it must be hard. I know . . . I know I have my own story to tell. My own history of how I ended up here. About what happened to me over all this time . . .

MONICA: Dave. It’s okay. Take your time. You’ll get there. I don’t want you to push yourself, dear. You’ve been through so much already. Take your time. And maybe – hopefully – those recordings will help bring your memories back.

DAVE: Yeah. Let’s hope so. But how did you end up here? In the same Ostium Network as us. Of all places.

MONICA: That, my dear, is a long story. There’s also recordings of it. But to cut a long story short . . .

DAVE: Sorry to interrupt. That expression. It’s having an affect on me. Was that something you usually said when you didn’t want to talk for too long.

MONICA [Excited]: No, honey. That expression was totally you. Is totally you. You’d say it like every day. You were always in a hurry. Needing to get to your next class, your next job or chore. You hated the idea of hanging around and chatting for too long.

DAVE: Bloody hell. I sound like a right bore.

MONICA [Sarcastically]: Not . . . Completely. Once you clocked off for the day . . . Which wasn’t really applicable here. We never clocked in and clocked out technically, but come dinner time you were done with the work side of life and switched over to relaxing and having fun. That’s when you become the opposite of a bore.

DAVE: An erob?

MONICA: A what?

DAVE: An erob. It’s the opposite of a bore. Or bore spelled backwards.

MONICA [Bursts out laughing]: Oh my god, I’ve missed this so much, Steve . . . I mean Dave.

DAVE: It’s okay mum. You can call me Steve. I’ll allow it . . .

MONICA: Oh will you? Well how nice of you, fine sir, to allow your mother to call you by your given name. The name I chose for you. I remember finding you that day in the building I was working on like it was yesterday. All alone . . .

DAVE: You found me in a bloody building? I don’t remember anything about that.

MONICA: Well, you were a newborn. But it’s all in the recordings. You were just lying there in the basket, wrapped in a blanket. All baby fat and cuteness. Calm and content. I was smitten the second I saw you.

DAVE: I’m so happy I found you. I’m so happy to be here now, with you. I feel so bloody fortunate.

MONICA: Me too, love. Me too. Are we . . . Are we good?

DAVE [Thinking]: Yeah. We’re alright. And it’s going to get better. Much better. Especially if those recordings are as bloody amazing as you’ve been implying.

MONICA: Oh honey, you have no idea. Come on down the hall here, I’ve got just the place for you to listen to them.

[Two people walking away]

[PAUSE]

MONICA: So you’re datapad should be all synced up now and you can start listening to those recordings whenever you want.

DAVE: Fantastic mum, cheers.

MONICA: Have at it, while I go have a heart to heart with Mr. Jake Fisher.

DAVE: Mum?

[Silence]

DAVE: If it’s any consolation, he has forgiven you already, after everything. In his own Jake way.

MONICA: Thank you, Dave. Thank you for telling me that.

DAVE: You’re welcome, and one other thing.

[Beat]

DAVE: He still really loves you. A lot.

MONICA [Charmed surprise]: Really? [Pause] Good to know.

[Steps walking away]

[Beginning of Monica’s recording from Episode 21 fading into silence]

[PAUSE]

[Jake rehearsing lines]

JAKE: I’m sorry Monica . . . Whatever you went through, I know . . . I know you had your reasons, trust me, I’ve done stuff like that before . . . Stuff? That’s what this is? Stuff? . . . I want you to know . . .

[Arriving footsteps]

MONICA: What do you want me to know?

JAKE: Oh hey Monica, didn’t know you were coming.

MONICA: The fuck you didn’t. There’s no one else here Jake. You coulda heard me a mile away.

JAKE: You’re right. My mind was just . . . On other things.

MONICA: I’m sorry Jake. Sorry to jump on your back right away. I don’t know what you’ve been through after . . . After the blackness took you. It couldn’t have been good. Like anything fucking ever is with Ostium. But . . . I could use a hug.

JAKE: Me too. Warning: incoming hug approaching.

[Hugging sound]

[Speaking at the same time]

JAKE: I don’t know . . .

MONICA: I didn’t mean to . . .

[Silence]

[Laughter]

JAKE: You go first.

MONICA: Thank you, Jake. But not this time. I think I need to get your take first. See if there’s anything you need to get off your chest. You tell me . . . Whatever you want to tell me.

JAKE: Thank you, Monica. [Breath] I’ve . . . I’ve had a lot of time to think about . . . Everything that happened between you and I. I felt . . . I felt angry. Very angry. And cheated. And lied to.

MONICA: You were. And I’m . . . very sorry . . .

JAKE: Let me . . . Just let me finish, please. I need to get it all out. If I keep stopping I don’t know if I’ll be able to.

MONICA (QUIETLY): Sorry, Jake.

JAKE: Okay . . . I felt like the whole thing. Between you and I. The sex. The . . . Closeness we felt. It me wonder if you did it all for nothing. Just to try and get to Steve. And you didn’t give a shit about me. I felt used. It all felt pointless. And I started wondering what the hell I was even doing in Ostium. With you. Not that I could do anything about it. I was fucking stuck there. Just like you. With you.

MONICA: Again, Jake, I . . . Goddamnit. Fucking shut-up Monica. Got it.

JAKE: Thank you. You’re going to want to hear this next part. So I had all these feelings and had them all flashing before my eyes in those last moments. I knew what you’d done. I knew how you’d done it, with those crazy Michael Jackson gloves.

MONICA: [Snort]

JAKE: What? That’s what they looked like to me. I almost would’ve preferred being hit over the head repeatedly. Though I’m guessing those gloves had some ability to mess with my mind, too. So at the end there I wanted to get back at you. It felt . . . It felt fucking great to tell you when you asked me to come back to Ostium. To let you know I was abandoning you for a change. Part of me knew I had to do it. Because of the physics of it all. But another part of me wanted to do it. And then . . . When you stepped through. That’s when it finally felt like a mistake. Like I’d made the wrong choice. But it was too late by then. Also I thought I was going to die.

[Short pause]

JAKE: Some really weird shit happened to me after that. With the blackness. I’m still don’t really know what. Don’t understand it, that’s for sure. I made recordings. Tried to process it in some way. You can listen to them if you want. I don’t really want to go into it all again. It was a . . . A pretty wild and crazy trip. But I came out the other side alive. I survived. Somehow. I made it back to Roanoke. Somehow. And that’s where I found Dave.

[Short pause]

JAKE: I came out of that blackness changed, Monica. I had more . . . Control over Ostium. Over what it could do or try to do to me. To us. I could hold the blackness back with no problem. Whatsoever. It wasn’t even a threat to me anymore. Isn’t a threat, still. And I could make my own doors . . . My own ostiums happen. I still don’t understand the hows or even the whys. I just know what I’m able to do. I knew where Dave and I had to go next. And we found something. A something. Something powerful. And deadly. Dave will tell you at some point. Or you’ll hear his recordings. Of when he first came face to face with this entity. How it terrified him. It terrified me too, when I first saw it . . .

JAKE: But before that. I got us to that house in Fort Bragg. From before. Before it could be there. And before those men arrived.

MONICA (deadly serious): What. Men?

JAKE: The ones you sent through. The ones you thought were all dead. I was able to  . . . Save them, Monica. I sent them through a door. Another door. It took them back to their time. Their place. Their Ostium Network.

MONICA (astonishment): Their own timeline? They’re alive?

JAKE (happy): Yes. They all made it through the door. I don’t know if that does anything to the Ostium continuum, and I don’t fucking care at this point. They made it through. They . . . Live. And you didn’t hurt them. At all. It’s not on you anymore.

MONICA: Oh my god, Jake. That’s . . . Fucking wonderful. Whatever possessed you to do it . . . Thank you. Thank you.

JAKE: You’re welcome Monica. I still want to know what the whole story behind that is. What your whole story is . . .

MONICA: Yes . . . Yes. You will Jake. I promise. I was going to tell you at the end there, but once that artifact fell on the number everything went white and you disappeared and I was all alone.

JAKE: Okay. Good. I can go with that. But there’s more I need to say.

MONICA: Okay.

JAKE: It’s about Dave. It’s about . . . Steve.

MONICA (different delivery, hesitant): Okay.

JAKE: When we got out of Ostium . . . When we came here, I couldn’t believe I’d managed to do it. To open a door and get us both here in time. Before that thing got to us. And then it was just the two of us. In this place. All alone. Or so I thought. And that’s when Dave started remembering things about this place. Things he shouldn’t know. Unless . . . there was more to his story than he was telling me. So there was that. And then there was the white-hot anger still in me over what you did to me. How you treated me.

MONICA [Pained]: I had to Jake. For Steve.

JAKE: I know Monica. But you need to let me finish. [Pleading] Please.

MONICA: I’m sorry, Jake. Again.

JAKE: Those two . . . Cocktails of emotion . . . They started to mix. Coalesce I guess. And . . . Diffuse in a way. You said Steve was you son . . .

MONICA [Nonsense, guttural reaction]

JAKE: I know. I know. He is your son. I got that. I get that. And I suppose it was something that stuck with me. So when I met Dave, got to know him a bit, things started to make sense. For perhaps the first time in all my time in Ostium. And out of it. I didn’t know for sure. Not by any means. But in the back of my mind there was the growing possibility. A “maybe” taking shape and becoming something more substantial. What if? But it was just in the back of my mind, nothing concrete.

JAKE: At the same time I was thinking about you. Not just what you did to me. I was sort of over it already by that point . . . [Amused] No need to look so shocked, Monica.

MONICA: I just . . . I just did not expect to hear that from you Jake.

JAKE: Well, it’s true. Also that was a great pun we both missed. You know. “Shocked.” Anyway, when I got here, after it all kind of settled in that we were in Gibraltar, but a different Gibraltar to the real one, and we were all alone and had no clue what to really do next, I started thinking. About you. Trying to put myself in your shoes. What you went through. What you must’ve been thinking. I still don’t know the whole story. Your background with Ostium and before it . . .

MONICA: I know Jake. I will tell you. I . . . I ended up making my own recordings. What I thought of as personal recordings that I didn’t ever plan for anyone to ever hear. Except me. And Dave is listening to them right now. And I’ll probably be letting you listen to them too in the near future. I didn’t realize how much I needed to say, to get off my chest. Sorry for speaking for a bit here.

JAKE: It’s fine, Monica. I want to hear your side too, what happened to you.

MONICA: Well, I’ll keep it short, because I know you’re not done with what you gotta say. I . . . I don’t think I realize just how much had happened to me. How much I’d been through, from the beginning. Here. Or the other here. Whatever. And then losing Steve. And then going after Steve. And meeting you. And looking for Steve and going through so much . . . I had a lot I wanted to talk about. It felt good to say it. Real good. And I guess it was a good thing I recorded too, in a way, because I don’t have the fucking patience to spend hours and hours telling my life story to the two of you. There. I’m done.

JAKE: Thank you for that, Monica. I know it can’t be easy. Saying all this stuff. After everything you’ve been through. I know it’s a lot. A helluva lot. And you had your reasons for doing what you did. It was Steve. It was always about Steve and for Steve. I obviously haven’t had any children, but I can try and imagine what that must be like. To care for someone so completely and unquestioningly.

MONICA: It’s true. You know the expression about how you’d die for someone you love. As someone who really likes the fuck out of living, the thought of kicking the bucket is something I just never like to think about. I know I’m not the only one. But after finding and making Steve mine. Raising him and dedicating my life to him. It became obvious. I would willingly sacrifice myself for him. Throw myself in front of a moving vehicle, while pushing him out the way. Give up my life to save his. No question. And that’s never changed.

JAKE: I can understand that, Monica. You are faithful and dedicated when it comes to things you care about. And when you were using those gloves on me, everything just started falling apart and I was so angry because I didn’t understand. But now, after taking my time, because I don’t like to just dive in and decide on something based on a whim, as you know . . .

MONICA: I sure do, Jakey.

JAKE: Jakey. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that before . . . I like it.

MONICA: I’m pretty sure you have, Jake. Kind of a more recent development, but I’m pretty sure you were there.

JAKE: No . . . It’s not ringing any bells. It’s something I’d definitely take notice of.

MONICA: Are you sure? I could’ve sworn . . . Oh no. You’re right, Jakey. I only started calling you that when I was hearing your voice in my head while I was trying to get myself the fuck out of Ostium.

JAKE (confusion): Voice in your head?

MONICA: Don’t read too much into it. The stress I was under, hearing you seems perfectly logical. It’s all in the recordings.

JAKE: Okay then. Well, I do like it. Feel free to call me that anytime.

MONICA: Will do.

JAKE: Anyway, after thinking it all over. Thinking it real hard. What you did was understandable. You’re one goal, no matter what, was to find and protect Steve. That was always what you were doing. Right?

MONICA: Yes, Jake. It was. But also what happened between us . . . [breath] . . . It did help me do what I thought I needed to do. What I thought was the right thing to do. But it wasn’t just that. The sex was . . . A natural . . . Act. It happened because we were both consenting and willing, regardless of what I thought I needed to do to get to Steve. And . . . Over that time you became important to me. A lot more important. I didn’t ever plan on that happening, or expecting it to happen. And you were having those nightmares and I thought it could help. But if I could go back and change all this from happening again . . . I don’t think I would. Because it wouldn’t be the same between us. What happened between us wouldn’t happen the same. And I don’t want that.

JAKE [determined]: No. I don’t want that either, Monica. I . . . [laughing] I fucking love what happened between us. It was magical. And special. And fun. And . . . Extremely pleasurable. It was fucking . . . It is fucking great. If it still is. Between us.

[Stepping closer together, voices softer]

MONICA: I still want it to be. Do you, Jake?

JAKE: Yes, Monica. Very much so.

MONICA: Jake, I think I . . .

JAKE [cutting her off]: I love you Monica. After everything, that hasn’t changed. I knew I was falling in love with you. And I know I still love you now.

MONICA: Jake. That’s beautiful. And thanks for cutting a girl off when she’s about to say it. Weren’t you taught any manners? I fucking love you to, Jake. And I still love you. Can I get a kiss?

[Kissing sound, then hugging]

JAKE: Shall we go check on your son?

MONICA: Yeah, I think so. He’s had enough time to get caught up.

JAKE: So is he Steve or Dave to you?

MONICA: He says he wants to be Dave for now, though he said I could call him Steve. But that may change in time. I don’t know. Once he remembers his whole story and tells it . . . Things may change. And he’ll always be Steve in my heart.

JAKE: Oh, and one more question, and please don’t hit me after I ask this, but if he’s your son and he looks maybe five years younger than me, ten tops, how old does that make you?

[Punching sound]

JAKE: Ouch . . . I deserved that.

[PAUSE]

[Sounds of Monica’s recording]

DAVE: Bloody hell, mum . . . You’ve been through a lot . . . And I thought I was the one who’d had the wild ride . . . Runs in the family, apparently . . . And it sounds like we’re about at the end of your little adventure . . . Wait a minute. What is this place? Where the hell did you leave me, mum? Looks like . . . Well, I dunno. Like I’m standing in the control tower at Gatwick, only there’s no planes, and no one’s here, and everything’s turned off. Yeah, makes perfect sense. After all, we are at the top of the rock of Gibraltar. Where else would plonk your HQ? Views in every bloody direction, no? So let’s see here . . . What looks like it might be the on button.

[Footsteps]

DAVE: Okay. These look like different work stations. They all look pretty much the same. A chair and a panel of some sort. I suppose there’s a secret and logical way to activate them. So if I wanted to be the main one that runs them all, the big boss, where would I be? How about opposite that doorway over there. So . . . All the way over here then. Alright. This one does look bigger than the other ones. Let’s have a gander then.

[Creaking chair]

Where would I put the power button? Let’s try running the hands along the surface. Maybe I’ll feel something and . . . Nope. Does sod all. Anything underneath it? Or on the floor maybe? Two nos there. Okay, Dave, let’s try some lateral thinking here. Outside the box, as the cliche goes. So . . . It’s the future here. Rig ht? Obviously. So this is some very futuristic technology. Not your garden variety personal computer. And all the work stations look the same. A flat, shiny surface. No apparent buttons or switches or toggles or anything. It’s blemish free. Sort of reflective. Meaning it’s not actually for typing on or even touching. Okay. Yeah. Makes sense. So what is it for then? Come on brain. It’s . . . It’s . . . It’s for projecting? Perhaps. Think you might be on to something there. Yeah. Projects up perhaps to just above. Right in front of my mug. Yeah. Right. That does make sense. So if that’s the case, I need to figure out how one activates it. Erm . . .

COMPUTER: ON!

ACTIVATE SYSTEMS!

POWER . . . ON!

POWER . . . UP?

Nope, not working at all. Well, if this is some sort of projection and I actually wanted to use this right now, I’d lift my arms up and stick my hands out like this . . .

[Beat]

[Beeping sounds, electronic sounds]

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I can’t believe that worked. It is projected. I was bloody right. It’s just like that film that mum made me watch. The scifi flick with what’s his name . . . Erm, erm . . . Don’t tell me . . . Tom Cruise. Yeah, that’s it. And it was called . . . Mental drum roll please . . . Erm . . . Minority Report! Yes, we have a winner! And the crowd goes wild! That was it. I can remember that distinctly and fondly, I might add, in mum’s apartment far below where I now am. Both on the sofa with . . . Maybe popcorn? Can’t quite remember. Doesn’t seem quite right. But if anywhere would have popcorn, seems like this place would. And . . .  And . . . And . . . Oh my god! I just had an actual memory from here. With mum. It’s clear and solid in my mind, like it really happened. Because it did! It did really happen. I was here with her before. And it’s all starting to come back to me now. Oh, this is so wonderful. Fantastic!

Anyway, let’s get back to this mainframe we just hacked into . . . Well, sort of. So what have we got here. Some drop down menus, your basic introductory layout for when you first get in. What’s this here at the end. Windows? As in Microsoft? I bloody doubt it. And when I hit the drop-down we get one option . . . OPEN.

[Beat]

Let’s give it a shot.

[Mechanical opening sounds]

Holy shit! The shutters are all opening. All around me. Good job I’m not a vampire. I’d be a pile of ashes by now. Unbelievable. I can see all the way down the mountain. It’s incredible. Gorgeous. Also can’t deny the fact that I feel considerably like Big Brother sitting up here in my tower. Oh look, here come Jake and mum.

DAVE: Hiya guys!

JAKE: Hi Dave, looks like you found a way to open things up here.

DAVE: You better bloody believe it. I got the computer system working. Look.

MONICA: Looks a lot like Minority Report.

DAVE: That’s exactly what I thought. I remember that film, mum. Us two seeing it together.

MONICA: That’s great dear.

JAKE: I love that movie. You know when the movie was made that tech didn’t exist yet, but the guy who came up with the concept patented it and then invented it, and then it was real.

DAVE: Really?

JAKE: Yep.

MONICA: Ah, Jake. You never fail to disappoint. Nerdalert!

JAKE [amused]: I try.

DAVE: And looks like you two patched things up then. Judging by those hands holding each other? God, that’s a bloody weird way to say it.

MONICA: Yes, Dave. We did. And that was fucking weird.

JAKE: So did you find anything else out with the computer display?

DAVE: No. Haven’t had a chance yet. I just worked out how to lift up the shutters, and that’s as far as I got.

MONICA: I did it by pressing that button over there.

DAVE: Oh shit, didn’t see that one. Would’ve been a lot easier. Anyway, let’s have a gander.

JAKE: Look at that menu. MAINFRAME. Sounds important.

MONICA [sarcastic]: You think?

DAVE: Okay, let’s see. Gives me one option: ACCESS. And . . .

ROBOT VOICE: Voice authentication required.

DAVE: Erm . . . Let us in please?

ROBOT VOICE: Access denied. Voice authentication required.

MONICA: Monica Chase. Ostium Network.

ROBOT VOICE: Access denied. Voice authentication required.

DAVE: Go on Jake, have a go. I know it’s pointless since you’re the last person to ever end up here, but what can it hurt?

JAKE: Okay. Ahem . . . Jake Fisher. Er . . . Ostium Network.

[Short pause]

DIFFERENT ROBOT VOICE: Access granted. Welcome, Jake Fisher, to the Ostium Network.

[MONICA:]

I don’t know how much time passes. The booming sound is long gone. Still don’t know what the fuck it’s all about. And for the moment I’m not going to worry. I’ve got enough shit to deal with.

I keep staring at those grooves in the dust. Are they really incontrovertible proof? Was someone else truly here? Yeah. Of course someone was. But the important question is . . . When? This is the Ostium Network after all. Time is always fucking relevant.

So . . . The frame could’ve been moved what . . . Years ago maybe? Nah. Too long. The dust wouldn’t look like that. So weeks maybe? Months? Possibly. Not too many of them though.

Or . . . It got taken a couple days ago? Or a day? Hours?

Minutes?

And that’s when that fear shoots up inside me again and this time it drives me to my feet.

Yeah. I . . . Entertained the idea of staying here tonight. Because it’s Steve’s place. But now . . . Nuh-uh, not happening.

I’m heading back to my place.

[Short pause]

It’s on the quick ride over in the EV that I realize where I need to go next. The place I need to check out tomorrow. Somewhere I’ve never been before, even when this place was swarming with people.

I can’t help looking up at the top of the rock of Gibraltar as I’m thinking about this.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

When we get back to my place .  . . Because that’s what it is, if you haven’t caught on yet. Can’t remember if I said it in so many words. But I notice right away that the front door is now closed. It wasn’t like that when we left. I remember. I remember looking back at Jake, watching him make sure it was ajar.

I reach up to type in my code to let us in, looking at Jake. He looks just as worried as me.

Bloody brilliant.

I take a deep breath just as the door unlocks and pops open. I charge up the stairs, ready for anything, and scared of bloody everything. My heart’s pounding like I just chugged a pint of very strong coffee. But my worries are all for naught, I discover, once I’m upstairs and looking around. Jake’s right behind me; my very necessary backup. But we don’t find anyone here.

Safe for now, at least.

We both let out heavy sighs.

JAKE: “Okay, I’m going throw some grub together, in the meantime, you . . . Collect your thoughts, and we’ll go over what’s been going on with you.”

DAVE: “Sounds good mate.”

Jake makes supper too bloody quickly for my liking. It felt like I just sat down and then there he was with two plates of steaming food. Pasta. And some sort of tomato sauce. Good enough for me. He puts the plates down and I start eating. He returns with a couple glasses of water and starts eating as well.

He gives me at least five minutes, which is very decent of the chap; gives me time to gobble down my food, let out a very loud burp, and then get settled, nestling the glass of water in my hands.

DAVE: “I . . . I lied to you before . . .”

JAKE: “What? Why . . .”

DAVE: “Just . . . Just let me say my piece. I’ll explain why. What I mean. I had my reasons. Just listen for now. We’ll have a Q&A session after the lecture, okay?”

JAKE [not happy]: “Sure man.”

DAVE: “I lied about never having been to Gibraltar before. Honestly, my memory has been an absolute pile of shit since we came through here. So I’ve got that going for me. I suppose. But as more time goes by, the more I feel I remember. It feels like my memory is coming back to me in dribs and drabs.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, Jake. The first time I came to Gibraltar was on holiday. I was spending a package deal in Spain and thought I’d visit a piece of foreign Britain. There was . . . Nothing remarkable about it. It was perfectly normal in every way.”

I pause, drinking some water. Clearing my throat.

“But that was another time. Long ago. Jake: I remember being here more recently. A lot more recently. I had no clue at first, when we arrived. But as each hour . . . bloody hell: as each minute goes by I remembering more and more. I remember lots of people here; I was one of many. Thousands it felt like. And we all had jobs to do. We were working together. Learning together. We were in lots of classes, being taught about time and time travel and . . . Ostium. How it started. How it got made. How we were going to use it. A lot of the details are still quite fuzzy, but I’ve got at least a general idea about it all. The gist, you know.”

Jake’s nodding at me, trying to control the shock on his face. Honestly, I can’t blame him.

“I can remember . . . I can remember the ones in charge asking if I’d like to be the first one to go through. To try Ostium. To get to the town and go through one of the doors, come back, and tell them all about it. We’d been training and learning for months. At least six months, I think. I was so bloody anxious to actually do something. I know I should’ve thought about it some more. Taken more time and talked about it with my mum.”

JAKE: “Your mom?”

DAVE: “Yeah, she was here with me, in Gib. We got hired pretty much at the same time and arrived here on the same boat. Something . . . Something weird happened when we took that boat. I can’t quite remember what. But something . . . Special happened to get us to this unique place. To this Gibraltar. This island. It’s not . . . Well, I think you know this already. But it’s not a normal place. Not naturally occurring, if you catch my drift.”

JAKE: “Yeah. I know. There’s something very . . . Similar about this place and Ostium.”

DAVE: “No bloody kidding.”

JAKE: “So do you remember what happened? How you got into Ostium? How the whole EMU thing came about?”

DAVE: “EMU? Oh, bloody hell. No . . . No, I don’t remember any of that yet. Let’s see. At the moment, all I can remember is them all giving me the okay and stepping through that door. The one we were looking at earlier, in the funny looking room.”

JAKE: “The one that looked like a deadly virus containment facility?”

DAVE: “Yeah. That one. They gave me the okay and I stepped through and . . . I can’t remember anything after at. Yet. I really hope it starts coming back to me. It’s . . . It’s honestly starting to turn my stomach a bit. I want some fucking answers.”

[short pause]

JAKE: “I feel you, Dave. I know where you’re coming from.”

DAVE: “Thank you Jake. It means a lot to hear you say that. And to have you hear it all. I’d be barkers if I was here on my own.”

JAKE: “But Dave, how can you be so sure this is the place? You’ve got memories of it, sure, and you somehow managed to get into this apartment. But you don’t exactly sound fully confident of your faculties. How do you know this Gibraltar, this island is the same place?”

The moment of truth. I knew it was coming. And this was the right time.

DAVE: “Because I didn’t do anything special to break in to this place. I didn’t hack that terminal or randomly type in the exact number. I knew what the number was because I remember setting it when I first moved in. I remember being told how to set the pass code and choosing those random numbers. And they worked.”

JAKE: “Huh. Okay then.”

DAVE: “That’s not everything though. I also have a piece of undeniable evidence.”

Jake is watching me intently now. I pull out the small framed photograph from my trousers and put it in his hands.

He looks at it. His eyelids half close, frown lines forming on his forehead. Then the lines suddenly disappear and the eyes become huge egg-sized things and I think his eyes are going to fall out of their sockets.

Then he looks up at me and his look makes me feel scared. The sort of fear that makes you feel cold inside.

JAKE [in shock]: “Dave . . . This . . . is you . . .”

DAVE: “I know.”

JAKE: [still shocked]: “And . . . Who’s the woman beside you?”

DAVE: “That’s my mum. She was here with me, remember?”

JAKE [utter incomprehension]: “Dave . . . That’s Monica.”

[Pause]

[MONICA:]

I barely remember what I chow down for breakfast. I don’t make my bed, even though I did so religiously every morning I was here. I just get myself ready and set out.

I did remember to charge the EV last night. Took a little while to work out where everything was, but they showed us how to before. The knowhow was still there. So come this morning, it’s all ready to go. I take a few minutes to think. To wonder if I need anything, for where I’m going. Food? Supplies? Nah. Not really. It’s not like I’m going to be staying where I’m going. But I do take one important item: the gun.

The ride over is a mixed bag. Half of it is lovely. Fresh, clean sea air. A gorgeous sunrise. As that yellow ball climbs higher, it gets deliciously warmer. It makes me feel . . . For the moment at least . . . Happy. Sort of. Happy to be here. In a way. Happy to be somewhere nice for a fucking change. Somewhere I might want to call home. Somewhere I have called home before. Somewhere familiar and comforting.

Of course. It’s just me here. All by my fucking lonesome. I’d like that to change. Scratch that. I really want some goddamn company here. Anybody would be okay. Someone nice preferred.

Ahh, well . . .

Enough rhapsodizing on what I don’t have. What can’t be.

Now we’ve reached the other half of the journey. The half that’s more of a question and I gotta concentrate. Because I haven’t really been in this area much before. They showed us, like, once. Way, way back in the early days. Fortunately, I still remember. It’s kinda hidden too. So I navigate the EV down alleys. Make turns here and there.

Just when I’m starting to think I took a wrong one, I see it. Standing there. Ready and waiting for someone to use.

[Short pause]

We call it the cable car. Always have. Always will. There’s a bunch of damn names for it. Fancy sounding ones, like “aerial lift.” Or scientific sound ones, like “aerial tramway.” “Gondola lift” is another. They called it the cable car here, so that’s what I called it. It’s what we all called it. We all saw it. Going up and down. Couple times a day. Sometimes lots of times a day. Not that it mattered that much. None of us ever fucking went on it. No . . . The only peeps that got to ride the cable car were the special ones high up on the totem pole. Got to ride it all the way to the top of the rock. That’s what they told us during that introductory tour.

How many of these special people are there? How many of them are white dudes? Those details weren’t given. It was also clear it wasn’t worth asking. We weren’t going to be given those sorts of answers.

I watched it. A number of times. The cable car. It was kinda relaxing to do. Watch it make its slow way all the way up there. And each time I did I thought about who was in the car. What were they like? Were they nice people? Not so nice? Did they even care about all of us down here?

I knew then I’d never know. I know now too.

But one thing is about to change . . . Assuming I can get the fucking thing working.

How hard can it be?

[Short pause]

I try the door to the little house at the bottom of the rock. From its roof erupts two sets of cables reaching high up to the top of the rock, like . . . Really long strings that have been attached to arrows and shot up to the peak. Yeah. Pretty shitty simile, I know. Jakey’s the one for those. Along the way up the mountain are pylons holding up the cables.

The door’s locked. This stops me for just a few seconds. Guess they usually kept this place guarded or something. The door’s nothing special. I lash out with a couple stiff kicks just to the right of the handle. They cause enjoyable crunching sounds. One more and the door swings open.

I step inside a kind of atrium . There are glass doors on the other side that I get open much easier. They open onto the staging area and there’s the cable car looking like something a little bigger than a van but too small to be called a bus. From the top of it extends the connector to the cable above it.

Okay. Good. There’s the important part. The part that’s going to get me to the top of the rock. Now it’s time to figure out how this sucker works.

Doesn’t take me long to find the control room. And everything’s labeled. Fucking-A! Someone was smart in setting this up. Or at least helpful. And what have we here . . . A damn instruction manual. How goddamn useful is that?

And what’s this? A quick pointer sheet on how to operate the cable car?

Don’t mind if I do.

I start pressing buttons, turning knobs, and flicking switches. There are groans and creaks and then things start moving. A humming sound builds.

We’re in business.

I complete the checklist. Think about getting into the cable car to see if I can get it moving and stop myself. I keep checking the instruction manual. There’s another page with another checklist. For operating the fucking cable car while riding it. That page gets torn out and is coming with me.

[Short pause]

Okay. Standing at the door to the cable car.

Here goes.

[Door sliding open]

I step inside and expect it to move. Like a boat on water. It doesn’t. Stays perfectly still, like it doesn’t even know I’m standing on it. I slide the door closed. Make sure it’s locked and secure. There’s a panel beside the door with instructions on this too.

Damn, they’re making this easy.

I . . . I really fucking appreciate it. Thanks big wigs.

I walk over to the operating station and whip out my cheat sheet. I flick a switch and press a few buttons, then I hold my breath.

Here fucking goes . . .

I press one more button, then put my hand on the accelerator: a big knob with a speed dial above it. I turn it slowly. A digital number tells me my increasing speed. Once it gets past one, the cable car starts moving. I jam the cheat sheet in a cubby underneath the control panel and grab hold of a very well placed handle next to me.

I’m not taking any risks.

The cable car moves out of the . . . Station? House? Whatever the fuck it is . . . And starts ascending.

I’ve regained my balance and my confidence is starting to come back. Good. Not sure about my bravery. I recall the recommended speeds on the instructions and slowly turn the knob. The cable car moves faster, up to fifteen kilometers an hour. Not really that fast, but in a glass box on its way to the sky, it feels fucking fast enough, let me tell you.

I approach the first pylon and remember the instructions, slowing the cable car down to 5 KPH. As the connector above the cable car passes over the pylon, there’s a clanking sound. And everything shakes

It’s normal the instructions say.

It doesn’t relax me at all.

I’m also remembering one of those X-Files episodes I watched. There were a lot of them. One of the early ones with the guy. Fox Mulder wasn’t it? Riding a cable car. Trying to catch up with someone. He kept pushing the cable car to top speed and barely slowing it down when it approached the pylons. I remember the billboard in the episode: Skyland Mountain. Ascend to the Stars.

I ain’t going to be taking any of those risks.

Past the pylon, the cable car speeds up to a normal 15 KPH, and now I finally start to relax. I look around, through the windows, and admire the view of the island of Gibraltar opening up before me.

It’s quite breathtaking.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

I’m awake and up. It’s a new day in this strange, new place. I wake up in a strange bed, but I slept like a baby. It felt really damn good to get to sleep in an actual bed. I know I’d been sharing the bed in Ostium with Monica, but there’s something to be said about enjoying a queen-sized bed all by yourself. And after the last twenty-four or forty-eight or however many hours its been since the blackness swallowed up my world, I really needed a good rest. I feel alive and rejuvenated.

So it’s time to start brooding. Well, no so much brooding. But some deep, introspective thinking about . . . No. It’s brooding.

Dave. Is. Monica’s. Son.

Dave. Is. Steve.

It’s a big fucking deal. All that time. All that looking. All that suffering. And he’s here. He’s found. He’s with me. But Monica isn’t. And he was Dave all along. Somehow. No. I don’t get it. Not one bit. And I’m not going to try to right now. It’s too much. Too much to process. Too much to try and comprehend.

Dave’s . . . Should I still call him that? Should I tell him his name’s actually Steve? And then why does he think he’s called Dave?

Anyway, Dave’s still sleeping out on the couch, I can hear him snoring. I look out the window and see the sun’s making its way up into the sky. It’s well into morning. I’m going to need to get Dave up soon. We need to keep checking this place out. See if we can find anything that might help us. Something that will help explain all of this. What happened here.

I decide I need a breath of fresh air and sneak down the stairs, quiet enough not to wake Dave. I open the front door and leave it ajar so I can get back in with no issues. I think I remember the number Dave said was the passcode, but I still don’t really trust all this. Not completely.

Outside the air feels fresh and wonderful. I walk into the street, taking deep lungfuls. It feels so great, waking me right up. I can’t help looking at my surroundings. My eyes studying the buildings I can see, then casting over to the rock, following its ascension to the peak. And then I see movement.

What the fuck?

I don’t understand it at first. It takes some time. Then I realize what I’m looking at. It’s the cable car. I can remember that. Doing some reading when I was younger on Gibraltar and how the town has a cable car that takes you to the top of the Rock. You know: to check out the views, and the monkeys. So I shouldn’t be that surprised to see it there. The cables swooping down the mountain like big electrical wires. Except . . .

Except the cable car is moving. I can see it from where I’m standing. It’s far away, almost to the top. But it’s definitely moving.

And that means someone’s probably on it.

Just. Great.

[Short pause]

I get ready to go back inside and wake up Dave, to give him the [sarcastic] truly great news.

Do I still call him Dave? Or Steve? What’s right? Last night when I told him that was Monica in the photo he didn’t believe what I was saying.

DAVE: “You what? You must be bloody kidding.”

JAKE: “No Dave. I’m deadly fucking serious. That’s Monica in that photo. And I can see you too. That means she’s your mom. You’re her son.”

DAVE: [Silence at first] We ARE talking about the same Monica here? Aren’t we? The one you’ve been gallivanting all over the place with? The one who was . . . Seducing and attacking you with those things so you’d stay in line?

JAKE: [Silence] Uhm.

DAVE: [Cutting Jake off] The one who was always looking for bloody Steve who we all thought was her boyfriend, but who was really her fucking son. Who was really . . . Me!

JAKE: [Breath] Yes. Dave. That is what this all appears to be.

DAVE: [Angry] Does it!

JAKE: [Quietly] Yes. It’s . . . It’s the one thing I’ve never been able to find out until now. Absolute proof. Undeniable. Unquestionable.

DAVE: What? This?

JAKE: Yes. It’s you. It’s Monica. In the background is the rock. This place. You were here. With her. Your mother. And she was also with me. And you – Dave – went on your own journey, and you found Ostium – or maybe it found you – and then you found me. And then we both got here. Where you were before. When you were Steve. When you were here with your mom. With Monica.

Dave’s looking down at the photo. I’m not sure what’s going through this mind. Inside me my heart’s racing. This is so incredible. I don’t really know what to think. Does he remember being Steve? What changed?

He looks up at me.

DAVE: I don’t know, Jake. It’s a fucking lot to process.

JAKE: Yes. It is.

DAVE: Look. It’s late. I’m bloody knackered. Let’s get to bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. Maybe sleep will help me take all this in a bit better.

JAKE: Okay, Dave. That sounds good. Do you still want me to call you Dave? Or Steve? I don’t . . . Really know. It’s what you want that’s important.

DAVE: I don’t know either, Jake, to be honest. I can remember things, being here, but I don’t really remember being too different at all. Not being me. Being Steve. So let’s keep to Dave for now.

JAKE: Sounds good.

DAVE: Jake? Are we ever going to find my mum? Are we ever going to find Monica?

JAKE: I don’t know Dave. I just don’t know. But if there’s anything I’ve learned with Ostium and everything that’s happened to each of us, it’s that wherever we are, there’s always a chance.

DAVE: Good answer. Night night.

JAKE: Goodnight Dave. Sleep well.

[Short pause]

I run up the stairs, thinking I’m going to have to shake Dave awake if he’s not up already. I find the couch empty when I make it to the top, a piled blanket at one end. Where the hell is he? I then see him over at the window. He’s staring at something; eyes wide in astonishment. I walk over to him and follow his angle of sight and discover he’s seen the cable car too.

Finally he breaks his stare and looks at me.

DAVE: Who the fuck is that?

JAKE: I have no idea. But we’re going to find out.

His eyes somehow widen a little more.

DAVE: Are you . . . Are you sure that’s a wise idea?

JAKE: Oh, it’s definitely not. But I don’t think we can go about our day checking out other buildings, while there’s someone riding that cable car to the top of the mountain. Or riding it down to come find us. I’m just not going to feel comfortable going about our business today knowing there could be someone watching us behind our backs. Or coming at us without our knowing.

DAVE: You’re fucking right, mate. Okay. I’m scared shitless and it’s the last thing in the world I want to do. But you’re right.

I put a warm palm on his shoulder.

JAKE: I’m scared shitless too, man. Now let’s rip the band-aid off and deal with this.

DAVE: You what?

JAKE: Er . . . Never mind. I’ll explain it on the way.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

It’s a very enjoyable ride. Rising up and up. Ever higher. Getting to look back and down on this very strange island. It’s surreal. Not as surreal as it could be. I’ve spent time here before. Know the lay of the land, so to speak. But seeing it from way up here. It’s pretty trippy. And beautiful. Looking down at all the little buildings below. The streets and lanes between them. Like arteries and veins. Only there’s no life blood here. It’s all dried up. Dessicated.

And that’s when I fucking see something I can’t believe. It can’t be real, can it?

I know I’ve been hearing some weird shit. Those goddamn explosions. Who knows what they’re about.

Could there be someone else here? Somehow? This place definitely had the “Ostium vibe” when I arrived. Polar opposite to how it was before.

But I’m seeing the proof right now. Undeniable. Unless that EV’s driving itself.

Okay, for just a moment. An iota, as Jakey would say. In this place of all places. That’s a maybe. A possibility. But I’m not buying it. Not a bit. There’s a someone or someones in that vehicle down there. And looks like they’re headed my way. Via the cable car station.

Let the games begin, I guess.

Part of me is happy to know I’ve got company, and another part of me, a big part, is fucking terrified.

I turn around and see I’m not too far off my last stop. I went over the last pylon already, slowing down, then speeding up. Got the hang of it now. Actually, the end is coming up real fast. I’ve got a matter of seconds. And I didn’t check the instructions on how to stop this flying umbrella.

Yes. That’s a reference. Look it up.

So I drop the speed down to five KPH which is as slow as it’ll go without flicking switches I don’t know anything about. Shoulda done my homework. But it’s slow enough for me to make it work. I slide open the door. Holding on to the rails. There’s still one heck of a drop. I’m not taking any chances. The cable car slides into the opening of the station like a Pez candy into a Pez dispenser.

Yeah. That simile was fucking terrible. And yeah. You can pick your favorite Pez dispenser.

I get ready to leap through the door and onto the platform . . . Except there’s a fucking gate. And it’s closed! Time to adjust the plan of attack a little . . . And now we’re out of time.

I leap through the doorway, grabbing onto the railing with both hands, which rattles around like something electrified, and throw myself sideways. Once my body’s clear of the rail, I let go and twist with it, letting the momentum carry me in the turn. I land on my feet, bending my knees.

I stick the landing.

No sweat.

I hold my position for a minute. Catching my breath. Then I’m up and moving around. Meanwhile the cable car has done is revolution and is out the station and on its way back down to the town below. All ready for some fresh passengers.

Just fine and fucking dandy.

Can’t think about that now. They’ll presumably be up here at some point. Joining me. But I still got some time.

I open the door of the cable car station and step into a big room. It’s covered and well shielded and insulated. I get the sense of a bunker or fallout shelter. The sort of place an important person in power would need to go during a strike.

It’s quiet here. Silence is swallowed up. Absorbed by the thick walls. Not letting anything out. Not letting anything in.

I stroll down the hallway to solid metal.

My footsteps don’t echo.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

It takes us a good long while to find the bloody platform where the cable car’s supposed to be. We thought we were doing just fine. Trudging along. We could see the big wires that carry the cable cars, even if we couldn’t actually see said cable cars. We could see where they came down to earth, so to speak. So we headed in that general direction. We got close. Bloody close. Or so we thought. Then we hit our first dead end. We went back and tried again. Then we found a bloody great big building blocking the way. So we went back and tried again.

On the eighth try we had success!

I let Jake lead the way. You know: to absorb any oncoming fire.

We step into a sort of waiting room. Jake points out the door. There’s some splintered wood around the lock. Yeah. Definitely a break-in.

JAKE: Someone probably attacked it with their feet.

I look at him in absolute confusion for a few seconds and then realize what he’s going on about.

DAVE: Oh, right. Gotcha.

On the other side of the waiting room are glass doors and they’re open. We step through and now we’re on the platform. There’s a big U-shaped hole in the center where the cable car’s supposed to go and turn around. Only, there’s no cable car right now. But we can hear the sound of machinery. Everything’s on apparently and working.

Jake is looking up the mountain and points to a distant cable car making its way down towards us.

DAVE: I hope there’s no one on that.

JAKE: No, I don’t think so. It looks empty from here, and whoever was on it was probably riding it up. It’s empty now. All ready for us.

DAVE: [Sarcastically] Bloody brilliant.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I get to the end of the hallway and find another doorway. It’s a sliding door. One of those fancy ones where the door slides into the wall and kinda disappears. We didn’t have anything like that back down below. Makes sense. For the bigwigs up here. To have all the fancy shit.

Would I have wanted a cool sliding metal door for the front door of my apartment? Fuck no. But I woulda liked the option.

I step into the room and it’s pretty dark. I can see a few pinprick lights here and there, but nothing that tells me what it is. I can’t even make out shapes. I pull out my datapad and find the flashlight option. The darkness is torn apart by a bright white beam and suddenly I can see what the hell is around me. It’s . . . A . . . Fucking control tower. Machinery. Everywhere. Consoles. Racks along walls. And I can see many more little lights now. Greens. Reds. Blues. Oranges. And more.

I shine the light around. I see a light switch on the wall. Now why the hell didn’t I try that when I walked in?

It’s a big switch. Almost a toggle. Takes a good bit of effort to lift up. There’s a loud, echoey metallic sound. Like something dropped. Then the room is bathed in light.

Wow. Now that’s much better. And yep. Just as I thought. This is a watchtower. All those conspiratorial ideas we were having way down below were 100% correct.

I can now see a single button on one of the consoles is lit up in a orangey-yellow. It’s thick and attending-demanding. Taking the bait I press on the damn thing.

 If I thought it was bright before, I find myself covering my eyes as the metallic shutters rattle up and reveal giant windows all around except for the doorway I came in through.

Holy shit. I can see everything from here. Literally everything. An almost three hundred and sixty degree view. I can see down below, way down to the town and the buildings and the many streets. I can look out far to the horizon. Nothing but ocean and more ocean it looks like. Though I guess if this is still the Mediterranean, it’s all sea. Jakey would correct me on that. Sea as far as the eye can see. He’d laugh at that too.

And now I can see the cable car. Just about to come into the station. Well, then. That fun time was short lived. Time to face the fucking music.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

We don’t know how to stop it, so it’s all about timing. Fortunately the cable car is going slow. Damn slow. So it isn’t that big of a deal. We watched as it makes its U-turn, and then we’re ready by the railing. The door is open. Makes it even easier. Whoever used it last has been courteous. Or in a hurry. I hop on as soon as I have the chance, and Dave is right behind me, actually running in to me.

I kind of slip over to the far side of the cable car.

Then we’re out of the station and beginning our ascension. Dave doesn’t waste time, throwing the sliding door closed. That makes things feel a lot safer in here.

I walk over to the control panel, looking at the various dials and switches, not knowing if I should do anything. I wonder if there were any instructions? I look around, then below, finding a small cubby underneath. There’s a piece of paper there. A page of instructions. I shit you not. Awesome!

Dave is at my side as I’m reading how to operate the cable car.

JAKE: Here goes. Hold on to something.

Dave does and I accelerate the car to 15 kilometers per hour. When I reach the first pylon, I dropped it to 5 KPH, then speed it back up again. Having me focus on operating the car does wonders to make me not have to deal with the fact that we’re getting higher and higher and as I might’ve mentioned once or twice before, I’m not a big fan of heights.

Dave meanwhile is at the far end of the car, looking at the window and taking in the splendor laid out below. I’m sure it’s beautiful, but right now I have to focus on operating the cable car. You know. For our safety and all.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I haven’t got long. A matter of minutes. Got choices to make. Gotta be quick. Do I fire first? Do I take down whoever I see? Or do I give them a chance? A hope? I dunno right now. It depends if they’re pointing anything my way. Depends on who the fuck they are.

I draw out my little pistol. I haven’t had to use it yet. I hope that streak continues.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

We’re coming into the station now. Right where whoever was riding this car got off before. Presumably. We can’t take any chances. Jake is carrying out the instructions on the piece of paper. The cable car is coming to a complete stop. He’s managed to break off a thin piece of metal from inside the car. It didn’t look important. Nothing bad happened when he did it. And now he’s got himself a makeshift weapon. And I’ve got the little gun. I draw it from my pocket and look at it. The last time I used it was to kill someone I didn’t want to shoot. I hope this time I don’t have to use it to kill someone I know I need to kill.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

I’m standing in the doorway. The cable car has stopped. Whoever’s on it must’ve looked at the instructions. They must be pretty smart too, or at least able to read. Can’t trust them though. I make a snap decision and shut off the lights. It plunges the room and the hallway into mostly darkness.

With the gun pointed at the opposite end, I start walking.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

We’ve stepped off the cable car and can’t see anyone on the platform. I feel more than helpless with this pathetic piece of metal, but it’s all I’ve been able to salvage on such short time. This time I make a hand gesture for Dave to go first. No talking from here on out. We might be heard. Dave nods and walks in front. We reach the doorway that leads to a dark corridor. He steps through and I follow. We stop and wait.

It takes a while. But then I hear it. Slow footsteps. Coming closer. Dave hears them too. He starts walking down the hallway. I don’t know what the hell his plan is but I stay close behind him. He must have something in mind.

He’s reaching into his pocket for something. I can hear the rustling. The footsteps are coming closer now, as we draw nearer to the person.

[PAUSE]

[MONICA:]

They’re coming nearer. There’s two of them. I can’t tell if they’re armed. Probably got something. It’s your classic standoff. Only I’m really fast at the draw. Fuck. I’ve already drawn. I just need something to pull the trigger at. I’ve brought out my datapad. My finger is ready on the flashlight button.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

I’ve got my datapad out. I don’t know who’s coming towards us, but I want to see them before I try anything. Before I shoot them. If I have to. I know there’s a torch option in the menu. There it is. Got to wait for the right time.

We’ve very close now. And so are they.

[PAUSE]

[Simultaneously DAVE and MONICA:] I turn the light on.

[Single laser gun shot.]

[JAKE:]

That meal was exquisite. The quintessential cliche: a meal fit for a king. And I was full. Satiated. I didn’t want another bite. I tried to remember a meal on par with this and the first thing that comes to mind is that lunch Monica and I had in Covelo. Yeah, that was a good meal. Almost as good as this one. Except I’m with different people. And would I be okay sitting here, in this strange place with Monica? Or Dave and Monica? The three of us? After everything that’s happened between me and her. After everything she did. To me. And everything that happened . . . After. With her. And to me . . .

Would I still want her here, with me right now?

[Short Pause]

[Breath]

[Strong, decisive] In a heartbeat.

[Pause]

Dave took a while to find some dessert, which was fine by me. I needed to make some room in the stomach region, if you catch my drift. When he came back out, eventually, he had a tray of flan. I couldn’t help laughing. We were in a magical place that to the best of my knowledge didn’t exist anywhere in the known world. And after enjoying a truly out-of-this-world steak – although that may have had something to do with my not having had something as good as steak in a really long time; plus we were no longer in the “known world” – seeing the final course, the piece de resistance, the dessert to end all desserts . . . Flan. Well, I guess it makes perfect sense, in a way: The actual rock of Gibraltar is a part of the southern coast of Spain, where flan is as common as . . . Paella and flamenco, right?

This may be a different Rock of Gibraltar. An alternate one. Perhaps on another plane of existence. But the Spanish influence is still there, that’s for sure.

Dave had this worried look on his face when he came out from the kitchen, like he’d just found a human head in the . . . You know, let’s just not got there. It still hasn’t been long enough.

As if he’d just seen a ghost.

JAKE: “Is there something wrong Dave? Was the flan hard to find?”

He takes a while to respond; his mind is clearly on something. The eyes . . . Aren’t focused, glazed over. What the hell happened in there?

JAKE: “Dave?”

He snaps back to attention, looking at me.

DAVE: “Erm . . . It’s . . . It’s the food. I noticed something weird with it.”

That’s when alarm bells start ringing for me.

JAKE: “What do you mean? What we just ate? Am I about to get fucking food poisoning?”

DAVE: “No, no . . . Nothing like that. At least I don’t think so. No. It’s not that. I’m definitely sure it isn’t. It’s just . . . Bloody weird. I saw it when I was cleaning up. Throwing away all the packages the food was in. It was all perfectly organized. Everything packaged. And on all those packages was an expiry date.”

JAKE: “Oh shit! You missed that? It was expired, wasn’t it?”

DAVE: “No . . . You see, that’s the thing: they’re not expired. Absolutely not. They’re . . . They’re a long fucking way from expired, in fact.”

JAKE: “Oh . . . Oh? That’s . . . What? Really?”

DAVE: “Yeah, but get this: I’m not just talking about a few months from expiring, or even a few years.”

JAKE: “What?”

DAVE: “How about eighty years?”

JAKE: “What the fuck. No.”

DAVE: “I’m being serious.”

JAKE: “And how the hell can you tell? That would be like in the year 2100? Don’t they just have double digits for the year?”

DAVE: “No, mate. The entire date is printed on the package.”

JAKE [Disbelief]: “No fucking way.”

He stares at me then, angry all of a sudden.

DAVE [Quiet voice]: “Follow me”

I follow him into the kitchen and he opens the refrigerator and steps back, waiting. I take him up on the offer, reaching in and grabbing a mysterious package of brown meat. Another steak. Different marinade. And there’s the expiration date printed on the packaging, clear as day. May 22nd . . . 2103.”

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

JAKE: “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Minutes pass. Then more.

JAKE [Breath]: “I’m sorry, Dave. For doubting you. It was just so hard to believe.”

DAVE: “I know mate. Couldn’t believe it myself.”

JAKE: “Okay. Good.” I turn to him. “We good?”

DAVE: “Yeah. Bffs.”

[Laughter]

DAVE: “Smashing.”

JAKE: “So where are we headed next?”

He turns serious suddenly.

DAVE: “Why are you asking me?”

JAKE: “It’s okay, I don’t mean anything by it. You know as much about this place as I do. Maybe . . . I dunno, maybe I wanna take a step back from always being the first one through the door and making all the decisions. Calling all the shots. Monica was great at getting shit done, but I was always the one that had to take that first step. Make that first choice. I . . . I want to let someone else lead for a change.”

Dave breaks into a smile.

DAVE: “Okay, mate. You just follow me then. I’ve got a few ideas. First, we start by having a look at all the buildings in the vicinity. Find out what they all are. What they’re like. What’s going on inside. I think that should give us some starting thoughts about what is actually going on in this bloody strange place.”

JAKE: “That sounds . . . Fantastic. Amazing.”

DAVE: “Brilliant.”

JAKE: “Yeah, that too.”

DAVE: “No, I meant . . . Good. As in: glad you’re happy with my idea.”

JAKE: “Ah right. A Britishism.”

DAVE: “Righty-oh, let’s get a move-on then.”

JAKE: “Right behind ya.”

He leaves the kitchen, and I put the package of meat back in the refrigerator, on top of all the others and close the door. It gives a nice sucking sound; airtight. I look at the row of refrigerators along one wall, and then the other. Then I turn to the other end of the kitchen and see more, and other units that are probably freezers.

There’s a lot of fucking food here. More than you’d need for a rainy day. And with those ridiculous expiration dates, I don’t know whether to half believe, or just prepare myself to be near the bathroom for the next day or two.

No. If I’d have to guess: I’d say this is enough food for a decent-sized group of people for something like . . . The end of the world.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

I’m . . . I’m starting to remember more things. Lots of things. About here. About being here. With others. With friends. With . . . My mum. In this place. This other Gib. This alternate Rock. I’m . . . I’m keeping ahead of Jake. I don’t want him hearing any of this. Not at the moment at least. Jake’s had his own share of secrets and going through his own thoughts to understand them completely, so now it’s my turn.

And . . . And I don’t know what to think about this. What does it all mean? Are these memories that are slotting themselves back inside my head real ones? Real memories? Actual pieces of my past life? They feel like they are. Though . . . With everything that’s happened . . . Here. Happening in Ostium. Happened to me, personally. I . . . There’s just no actual way I can definitely know. They feel correct. A part of me. Like they should be there. Inside. Those memories of earlier times – more nightmares – of killing those men when that entity had control over me . . . Even though they’re inside me too, they don’t fit properly. Differently shaped pieces of the puzzle that don’t match at all, but someone . . . Something has mashed them into the puzzle so they’ll stay there . . . Even if they don’t belong.

So what am I to do?

Stay the course. For the moment. Just keep going and see what happens.

I truly never know what’s round the next corner in Ostium, and the same applies here. To the Rock. Actually, just saying those words . . . The Rock . . . It feels . . . Natural, as if it’s the right way to say it. The comfortable way. I know it’s been called Gib  for a long time, but being here now, in this “other” Rock and saying it . . . Makes me feel like I’ve said it a lot of times before. And dare I say: I feel at home saying it and feeling it?

Yes, I think I do.

[Short pause]

I have a vague idea . . . A vague sense for where I’m going. It’s nothing as elaborate and detailed as those infrared maps Jake and Monica had in their heads. This is more intuition based; a sense and feeling for where things are; where they’re supposed to be. I suppose you’d call it a spidey-sense. Didn’t Jake have something like that happen to him right in the beginning? When he was first trying to find Ostium? I think I remember hearing him talk about being outside a Starbucks, in a carpark, honing in on Ostium, or something. Well, that’s what it feels like for me, right now. I have a strong sense where certain places and buildings are. Possibly because they’re connected with these new memories that are being shoved into my head.

Anyway, I not telling Jake what’s been going on with me. Not yet. There’s just too much happening, with my thoughts and feelings and all that. I want to understand it all first, before I let Jake know what’s going on with me.

So that’s why I cross the street with Jake in tow, stopping at the first building that’s there. We find the front door and go in with no problem. Fifteen minutes later we’re all done. The bottom floor had a reception area, a waiting room, and some offices. Upstairs – and there was a lift, but we both decided we needed some exercise after ingesting all those calories – are four doctor’s offices with a full range of equipment and amenities. Fuck knows what it all does, but there’s a lot of tech up there that makes me think this must be the equivalent of what a hospital is in this place. When something happened to you, whether it was a skinned knee or a broken arm, this was where you’d come to get help. They could do it all: if you needed a plaster or a set of x-rays or an MRI, they had the machinery and ability to get the job done.

We’re outside now. Jake’s walking around a bit, taking in what he’s just seen in the building, and also having a look around. Getting a feel for the place, I suppose he’d say.

And it’s at about this time that a new memory falls into place in me old noggin. It’s hazy, dream-like, but I know it’s me. From my life. My past. I can remember being in one of those hospital rooms. Sitting on the bed. Talking with a doctor, I presume. I’m in one of those hospital gowns. Must’ve been having stuff done to me. Can’t really remember what. I remember talking to the doctor. Telling her about myself. My medical history and stuff. It’s still not that clear. But I feel comfortable. Relaxed. So what I was going through must’ve been . . . Alright. Something I fully agreed to. Maybe it was from early on, when I first came here, possibly.

I just don’t know. Like so much else here. But . . . But it’s a step in the right direction. I’m starting to learn.

I know more than I did before.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

This feels good. Really good. Great in fact! I know. It’s not really that big a deal. But I meant what I said earlier, when I told Dave how I felt like I’d been running the show and calling the shots since . . . Well, since I set foot in Ostium I guess. Monica is . . . I guess Monica “was” is more accurate . . . She’s still out there, technically, somewhere, so there’s always a chance we’ll meet again . . . On some sunny day . . . An infinitesimal chance. Monica was awesome in many ways and in the many things she did for me and with me. For us. I’ve had time to think about it quite a bit. I’m obviously not happy with what she was doing to me, but I can also see where she was coming from. With Steve being her son. A parent looking for her child. It supersedes everything. I understand that. I’ve not forgiven her. I’m not over it. Yet. Not by a long shot. But in time . . . The wounds will heal.

And now I’m getting to step back a bit. I know. It doesn’t seem that big of a thing, really. Letting Dave take the reins and decide on where we’re going . . . In this place that neither of us knows anything about. But it kind of is a big deal for me, personally. It’s allowing me to relax and not worry so much. Not that I was that much before, but it’s felt like my foot has been on the throttle from the beginning. And that’s because I’ve wanted it that way. That’s . . . That’s how I am. I deliberately put myself in those positions because that’s how and where I like to be. That’s where I thrive, so to speak. And it feels like that’s never let up. Especially when I was having those memory problems courtesy of those deadly gloves Monica had.

But now . . . We’re in a new place. Things are different. We’re not going through doors like before. There’s no blackness coming after us here. And hopefully that thing, that crone won’t be following us to this place. And it feels like the right time and the right place to ease off that accelerator, take a step back, and . . . And just chill for a change.

Of course, it’s one thing to acknowledge and tell yourself to take it easy, and another to actually do it. Yeah, I’m letting Dave go wherever he wants right now and I’m just following. Learning as much about this place as he is. That hospital was interesting. Definitely felt like I was in some scifi movie, with how clean and simple everything looked. There were machines and tech, but not wires anywhere. No tools or objects sitting around. All clean and sterile and like a medical bay on the Enterprise – pick the series.

We start checking out other buildings. Don’t have any problems getting in. But they’re nothing special; nothing’s really standing out, although I don’t really know what to expect. Should something stand out? Am I looking for a special Ostium door to be waiting for me, open and inviting me to a world utterly different from this one? Is that because that’s been my way of life for weeks now? This may be the never-before-discovered island of Gibraltar but so far other than the tech and feel of it being a good step into the future, it’s all been pretty mundane . . . When compared to say a special little town that takes you through doors to different places in time and space.

Just saying.

It’s been about a couple hours and we’ve checked out sixteen other buildings, which have all been nothing special: offices, classrooms, a gym, conference rooms. Though we did see a couple weird things that should be pointed out.

In one room that was most likely an office, the desk and chairs had all been pushed to the side of the room and in the center was . . . [breath] . . . This giant pentagram drawn in chalk. No, not drawn exactly. More like someone had made it by pouring chalk in the shape of a pentagram.

In another room, this was a conference room, big table with lots of chairs . . . Except the chairs were all stacked up in the middle of the table in the shape of a tower. Dave actually walked up to it and reached out to touch the strange stack. I was about to yell at him not to, but nothing happened. The tower didn’t fall down in a noisy cacophony as I’d expected. It didn’t even move. Dave then shook it. Nothing. No movement whatsoever. I walked closer, wanting to know what the hell was going on here.

DAVE: “They’re fused.”

I didn’t believe him. Again. But once I was standing next to him I saw he was totally right. Not just the metal, but the plastic too. It was like they been melted and become one solid mass and then re-hardened.

JAKE: “Fucking weird, man,” were the only words I had to say.

Emphatic nod from Dave.

In the last room of the last building – this was the gym – and it was in the women’s shower room. It wasn’t immediately noticeable. We checked each shower stall and were about to leave when Dave said:

DAVE: “Hang on a sec.”

I looked at him, eyebrows raised.

DAVE: “Just . . . Just be quiet for a minute and listen.”

So I did. Didn’t hear anything. What the hell was he talking about? There were no strange sounds, no weird . . .

And then I did hear it. It was the showers. The shower heads. They were all dripping. A drop ever few seconds. Nothing special, except that all twelve showers were dripping. Not at the same time, but in sequence. But the sequence didn’t repeat. Well, sometimes it did. Other times it didn’t.

It . . . It was a fucking song. The drip sounds were just different enough to be making music . . . Somehow.

JAKE: “It’s music?”

Dave nodded.

JAKE: “Damn, it’s real familiar. I can almost guess it . . .”

DAVE: “Clair de lune.”

JAKE: “That’s it.”

We kept listening for a few more seconds, then we both looked at each other.

It was really fucking creepy.

We got the hell out of there.

And now we’ve crossed the street and we’re headed to what looks like . . . Townhouses? I don’t know. I’m getting the residential vibe off of them. How they’re in a long row along the street here, all numbered, and all identical.

We go up to the first one and the door doesn’t have a handle or anything. But there is a panel on the left and now that we’re standing in the door-well it’s lit up with a numerical light-up display. I try tapping in some numbers, but nothing happens. I look at Dave. He just shrugs.

We check each townhouse along the street and they’ve all got the same doorway unsurprisingly. Each panel lights up at we reach the door.

At the fifth door Dave seems a little more excited. I’m not sure what it is. Like he’s expecting something with this door. But it’s exactly the same as all the others. We step up to it and the panel lights up.

DAVE: “Tell you what. I want to try something here. You watch the door and let me know if anything happens.”

JAKE: “Sure,” I say, willing to try anything at this point. Fuck all is happening.

I watch the door like I’m playing a game of Geoguessr: impatiently waiting for something to materialize; some sign that I recognize.

Why thank you, yes, that was a good callback. I thought so too.

And as I’m joking around, there’s an audible click and the door pops open. Just like that.

I’m give Dave a look that you can probably easily imagine, but let me put it in perspective for you: it’s that look you give your favorite band when you’re seeing them live for the first time and you won front-row seats for free.

He wiggles his fingers at me and says:

DAVE: “Magic hands, mate.”

Then he steps in front of me and walks inside.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

I need to be ahead of Jake. It’s for a reason. I know he’s been letting me lead the way which has worked out just fine in my book, but now it’s more crucial than ever. Because I picked this particular pad for a reason. A big bloody reason. You see the memories keep coming to me as more time passes and once I saw the row of houses that reminded me a lot of my mother country with them all joined together in a row, for the first time, I think, I actually recognized myself. I’ve definitely been here before. By myself, and with other people. I could remember that. Not who I was with, but just having a physical presence here. In this exact spot. At one point. And when we went up to the first house, I knew immediately we weren’t going to be able to get in. Because you need a special code for that. A six-digit one. Jake tried a few things, which of course didn’t work. And then we started moving on down the road, from one house to the next.

When we got to this one I had to come up with something quick to distract Jake.

Because I knew the code to get in . . .

Because this used to be my house . . .

Back when there were lots of people in this town. I can remember that now. I was one of them. And this was where I slept. Where I lived. And the code worked just like it always did.

[Short pause]

I charge up the stairs, going two at a time, and sometimes three, to get to the top as quick as possible. I can hear Jake coming up behind me, but not as fast. That’s good. I don’t know what I’m going to find at the top, but I’m not ready for Jake to know everything going on with me. Yet. I will tell him. Soon. I promise. Just not now. So I need to make sure there are no triggers here. Nothing bloody blatant that’ll make it completely obvious to him.

Stepping into the room truly feels like . . . Coming home to me. There’s a blossoming warm feeling in my chest. I’m actually getting a little dewy-eyed. I blink a few times and have a look around. Everything seems pretty normal. A bit dusty I suppose. Quite a bit, actually. But nothing out of the ordinary that says: “Welcome to Chez Dave,” except for that bloody framed photograph on the table there. I’ve just got tens of seconds now before Jake’s at the top of the stairs and looking in. I dive onto the sofa and grab the photo. Now what the hell am I going to do with it? I shove it down my trousers for now, the band of my boxers holding it decently in place.

Good. Okay then. Will need to be careful not to make any sudden moves. And especially watch it when sitting down. Fine. I just won’t do that then.

Jake’s at the top of the stairs now, eyes on me. Eyebrows raised in confusion.

I’m still on the sofa. I mime grabbing my calf muscle.

DAVE: “I knew I shouldn’t have run  up the stairs like that, I was just . . . Really excited at getting and seeing the place.”

JAKE: “Charlie horse?”

DAVE: “You what?”

JAKE: “Er . . . I mean leg cramp?”

DAVE: “Oh, yeah. Me right calf. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”

Jake nods and starts walking around the living room.

I continue my acting bit, pretending to massage the muscle like it really hurts.

After I’ve decided enough time has passed I get up and follow Jake who’s already checked out the kitchen and now he’s in the bedroom. He’s looking through the wardrobe. Lots of clothes hanging from coat-hangers. My clothes. I recognize some of them immediately.

Then Jake and I see the datapad on the bedside table. He gets there before me and picks it up.

Shit!

JAKE: “Hmm,” he says, looking at it intently. “Seems like it’s password protected. You wanna have a go?”

DAVE: “Sure,” I say, taking it from his hands. I turn and leave the bedroom, letting out a deep breath.

JAKE: “You know what.”

I come to a full stop and slowly turn around. Worried.

DAVE: “What?”

JAKE: “We should stay here. Sleep here tonight. Use this as a place to rest. There’s a bed and a couch. We could take turns. At least we’d have a roof over our heads and sleep comfortably?”

I think quickly, don’t want to take too long or he’ll become suspicious.

DAVE: “Sure, mate, that sounds smashing. Good idea. You ready to keep looking around? We’ve still got a good three hours of daylight left.”

JAKE: “Yeah. Sounds good. Will you be able to get us back in here, or do we need to keep the door ajar?”

DAVE: “No worries, mate. Magic hands, remember?

His smile is a good enough answer and I’m leading the away back down the stairs and out onto the street.

I notice Jake leaves the door open a bit anyway. I’m all right with that.

I’ve got somewhere very particular in mind I want to go next. The memory is making itself known to me now, and I think if I find what I’m looking for it’s going to go a long way to making me remember everything.

And I’ve managed to move the frame around to my bum where it’s sitting much more comfortably.

[PAUSE]

[JAKE:]

It’s funny how one’s outlook to the day can totally change when you know there’s a soft piece of furniture waiting for you come nightfall. I didn’t really know where we were going to sleep tonight. Pretty much everything we’ve seen so far has been hard chairs and hard tables and hard floor.

This changes everything!

Well, not really. But it makes things a lot better. Since we’re going to be here for the indefinite future. Having a place to stay . . . What is it they say that the requirements for survival are: water, food, and shelter. In that order. Check, check, and check!

I feel like something’s going on with Dave. I don’t know what it is, but the longer we’re here, the weirder he’s starting to act. Like the way he ran up those stairs. He gave me an excuse, and I knew it was an excuse. The lie was painted clearly across his face. So what’s he covering up? Apparently he knows something I don’t, and it’s big enough that he doesn’t want to tell me.

Well, I definitely know how he feels. So for the time being I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and see where he takes us next.

That’s another thing I’ve worked out about Dave. At first he was just checking out buildings, but somewhere along the way he found his path and knew where he wanted to go next. Just like now. I don’t know if he realizes it, but we’re going past buildings we haven’t checked yet. He’s got a destination in mind and I’m just going to go with it.

[Short pause]

And here we are. A nondescript building. Unassuming. One like any other. The door is unlocked like the others too and we step inside.

There’s a sort of waiting room with a couch and a couple chairs and a desk. It feels like a waiting room at a small time doctor or a dentist, but there’s something off about it. Something’s not . . . Oh. Dave’s seen it right away and is already standing in front of another door that grants one access to the next room. The one where the assistant comes out to bring you back you go through a normal opening. Here it’s all about security and whether you’re allowed back there. Or not.

But this door is also unlocked. So much for security.

And Dave’s already through and making his way down the hall. I have to speed up to keep close.

We pass more doors, all closed. Then we reach a T-stop. He turns left without hesitation.

I’m almost jogging now. I could call out to him. Yell his name. But I know it wouldn’t do anything. The guy is locked in. He’s got somewhere he wants to be; he knows where he’s going; and nothing’s gonna stop him or slow him down.

I’m just glad I got invited along for the ride.

And then we’re in a booth with an instrument panel. There are no actual buttons, but I can tell what it is because it’s lit up like the navigation station on the Enterprise. Above the panel is a big window looking into an unassuming room.

Dave has stopped, taking everything in, and now he’s moving again over to the pressurized door that gives one access to the special room. Has he seen something I missed? I look back through the window and see plain walls and no furniture or objects in the room, and then I do see something. I take three steps to the right to get a better angle on it.

There it is. Along one of the walls.

It’s a door.

A certain kind of door.

An Ostium door. It looks exactly like every single door I’ve ever seen there. Without a number

Holy shit.

Now I’m following Dave. He’s got the door unlocked somehow and as it opens there’s a sharp hiss.

I follow him inside and we both walk up to the door.

He looks at me and I’m surprised by the look on his face. He’s not confused. He’s confident. Aware.

He knows what this door is.

Why it’s here.

And what here is.

And that’s when we both hear another booming sound from outside somewhere.

[PAUSE]

[DAVE:]

JAKE: Okay Dave, time to spill the beans?

DAVE: What?

JAKE: I know you know what this place is. I don’t. I don’t have a fucking clue. And that thing right there . . . Is really scaring the crap out of me. So what the hell is going on here? And how do you know about it?

I take a long, deep breath.

DAVE: Alright, Jake. I’m going to tell you. It’s time. I’m going to tell you everything I know. Everything that’s at least come back to me. But not here.

JAKE: What? Why?

DAVE: It holds too many memories for me. This room. This place. Let’s go back to the house. We’ll make dinner. And I’ll tell you everything.

Jake isn’t saying anything, thinking things over. Can’t blame him. Then his frowny face clears and he gives me a nod.

JAKE: But you’re going to have to show me how the hell we get out of here, because I’m totally lost.

He’s smiling now, which is good. It makes me smile.

DAVE: Okay, mate. Follow me.

The dawn woke me. It was one of those cliche moments where I didn’t remember where I was. Then I did. I was in a fucking cemetery. I drag myself up into a standing position. Use the tombstone to do it.

Steve’s tombstone.

It hits me again. Almost end up on the ground again.

I feel a million years old. New aches and pains I didn’t know I could have. Fuck I feel old. My fifty-six years on this planet are catching up with me, Ostium Network enhancements aside. But then that’s what I get for spending the night on the very hard ground of a fucking cemetery that was never supposed to be here. Like I said before, nothing like this was every talked about or discussed, at least not with me. Not in any of those many, many hours of classes. It would’ve been covered somewhere. Orientation at the very least.

So what does this tell me? That all those fuckers at the Ostium Network have been lying to me all along? Well, that’s true anyway. But about this? Lying to all of us? No. I don’t think so. In fact: I know so. This cemetery may be kinda outta the way when it comes to the topographical layout of this town, but we wouldn’t have missed this. We couldn’t have missed this. Not something this big. And I know it’s got a lot of . . . Unexpected new members, shall we say, but the space is still laid out like a cemetery. It’s not like they expanded it or anything.

So what does that mean then?

Pretty obviously, really, dear Watson: this isn’t the same Gibraltar or Ostium Network or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It’s a different one.

Somehow.

Somewhen.

Yeah. Pretty fucking heavy.

[PAUSE]

So what does that mean . . . Exactly? Things are going to be the same here. Like they were before. And also not the same. Different in some way. I haven’t seen anything – yet – that tells me it’s a different Ostium Network. I mean . . . Fuck. My goddamn journal sounded right. Still the same.

If . . . If a different me had recorded that entry. Used slightly different language. Word choices. Phrasing. Would I have been able to spot it? Recognize that shit?

You know: I like to think so.

No. I fucking know so.

So. It just means there was another me here in this other Ostium Network. And this other me was real close to me. So we’re just going to take that as a given.

But . . .

But this isn’t another door . . . Another place that Ostium takes you to. This is the Ostium Network. It’s not just some place you visit. This is where it all started. The be all and end all. Ground Zero. Patient X. Fucking Typhoid Mary.

Yeah. That last one was a stretch. Learned about that during some random historical reading. For fun.

So where the hell is everyone? Why does this feel like I just went through another routine Ostium door – even though I never did by myself – and found everyone mysteriously gone on the other side. WTF?

I don’t know. I might never know. Let’s file this one with all the other Ostium-related unanswered questions.

So what’s the cemetery got to do with all this?

It’s a glaring difference to my Ostium Network. The one where I used to live. The one where . . . Steve lived. Until he didn’t.

In this one he’s dead.

So where does that leave my Steve?

[Sad/anguished, said slowly] Oh shit. He’s . . . If he’s still out there. In Ostium somewhere. Behind one of those doors. He can’t get back. And . . . And if he somehow does. If that miracle somehow happens . . . He can’t get . . . Here.

And . . . [wracking breathing] . . . I’m never going to see him again.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

[Crying]

[PAUSE]

I could . . . I could start attaching significance to everything that happens to me. To the events that come into play in my life. The choices I consider and make. The decisions that lead me to oh so new and interesting places. I could attribute some higher power making all this shit happen. But I know I’d be lying to myself. In every way possible.

I’ve come this far. I’ve survived. On my own. I’m not going to start lying to myself now.

So what can I get out of being here? What is there to gain? How can I make this fucking worthwhile?

Well . . . If I had the choice of being stuck in Ostium or the Ostium Network, I’d choose this place any and every time. Everything is here. Somewhere. Like I said: this is where it all started. Where it got developed. Where we first started learning. Where the first time-traveling towns began. The first ostiums.

It’s all here.

The answers.

Finally.

I just have to find them.

And the good news is, I know my way around.

[PAUSE]

I’m starting to fall into a routine. Here. It’s been a couple days. I got plenty of food. Enough to last a lot of lifetimes. I’m staying in my place because . . . Well, I guess I could look around for a better pad. More room. Fancier amenities. If such a thing exists. But I don’t really need to. I’m perfectly satisfied with what I’ve got. I was before. I am now. Don’t need anything more. Except some company. That would be nice. But I’m not exactly holding my breath on that.

I’m doing a lot of walking. Feels great to get some exercise. The weather continues to be just wonderful. The air fresh and clean with a good dose of brine. I’ve started doing some reading again. I’ve still got that ridiculous ebook library on my datapad. Also it’s still connected to the local area network here, so I’ve got access to everything just like usual.

Yes. I did try contacting and messaging a bunch of different people and departments. No takers. No responses. I knew it wasn’t going to be any other way.

And I’ve started visiting the old haunts. All the places I went to before. For a couple of reasons:

One: I want to see what they still look like; if they’re exactly the same as I remember them;

Two: I want to see if anything is different about them; since they’re part of this other Ostium Network, what might’ve changed in comparison to mine?

And Three: What can I learn from them? Is there’s something altered? A detail. A clue. A fact I didn’t catch before. Something that can help me understand. Comprehend better. And . . . Ultimately, get me the fuck outta here.

[SHORT PAUSE]

I’ve encountered and overcome a lot of hurdles in my time. In my life. In Ostium. So when I start hitting them again. Here. In the Ostium Network. I’m not surprised. I’m not phased. I keep going. Because I don’t give up. Even when I feel I’ve exhausted every fucking angle. Part of me keeps going. Keeps trying.

I visit the classrooms. I visit the offices. I visit the rooms of my past. I check out every location I can remember I’ve ever been to in the Ostium Network. I find datapads. Lots of them. Datapads aplenty. And not a word of worth on any of them. Not a sentence of sense. Not a tidbit of . . . Temerity? T-usefulness?

Jack shit basically. Whoever Jack is. It’s all stuff I already know. Or didn’t really need or want to know. Lotta stuff on the classes I took. A lot of personal stuff. Thoughts and ideas about time travel. About a favorite time to travel to. Some interesting thoughts, actually. But nothing useful. Nothing moving me a crucial step further. Just lots of ideas that keep everything in a holding pattern. Nothing moving forward.

And a whole lot of people lusting after each other. Women after men, women after women, and everything in between you can imagine. There was no outright “no sex” policy, or a “avoid fraternizing at all costs.” People like people; people like to fuck other people. You can’t stop that, no matter how much you might want to, and I’ve definitely seen humanity try like those religious nuts in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. But it’s still another thing to be reading peoples’ very personal thoughts.

Ahh, my eyes!

Yeah. But I had to check them all. Had to be sure. For all  I knew, one of them could’ve somehow belonged to someone high up in the echelons of the Ostium Network. Maybe even mister head-honcho himself. Nah, not him. That guy wouldn’t leave something that valuable hanging around. The Ostium Magna Carta for anyone to get their grubby fingers on. So maybe something then.

Nope. I don’t know if it’s because of this particular place. This Ostium Network. Did things like recording crucial pieces of information on your datapad just not happen here? Did they happen in any version of the Ostium Network?

So . . .

So I need to untangle that thought a little. Really wish I had Jakey here to bounce my thoughts off of. I’m sure he’d be happy to offer up a lectured paragraph or ten. But if his resurrection were unlikely in Ostium, it’s a million years beyond that here.

This idea of multiple Ostium Networks. Multiple iterations of places in time. It was certainly discussed in a number of the classes on traveling through time. None of them cohesively linked up with whatever the engineers and scientists and specialists were doing in Ostium. And none of us asked. We were too . . . What’s the word . . . Gobsmacked by everything. There were some things I would question and ask for more info on, more specifics. But this . . . This conceptualizing was WAY beyond me and my ken. So I kept mum.

Wish I hadn’t now. Wish a fucking lot.

So let’s try and bring it down to our level.

You have your straight-forward time travel shenanigans. Your linear, chronological type. Your Marty McFly traveling back and finding his mom has the hots for him which really fucks with the space-time continuum and he starts to go all invisible man. That’s the one that gets covered in a lot of books and movies and pretty much all of pop-culture. Bill and Ted did a great job, especially that bit when one of them wants something and then it appears because he went back it time and made it happen, but you don’t have to see it, the item just appears.

So that’s your straight-forward variety of time travel.

The other one, as I understand it, is a sort of parallel universe one. A tangential one, if I’m using that word correctly. I think I am. Which is that each time a choice is made; a decision decided on, multiple time-lines begin from that point. One in which the decision went that way, and one in which the choice went the other. The two are separate and from then on individual. And I think the two can never meet or cross over each other. I think. It’s all pretty high-brow theoretical physics for me. All this. So in this scenario Marty McFly can go back and have a grand old time with his mother – if he wants – and not cos of any problems with the space-time continuum . . . Well no. That’s not right . . . Exactly. If I’m following this right in my head . . . No, there won’t be any time problems with his timeline because the tangent happened after he traveled to his past and messed with it, starting on its own course, while his actual timeline where he resides is perfectly fine. I don’t know if I made any sense there. It doesn’t really sound like it. To me. But I think I kinda get it, at least. The timey-wimey stuff still gets messed up but only on specific tangents.

So this Ostium Network is on a different time tangent to the one I originally came from. Yeah. That’s it. And so everyone is gone in this one. In mine . . . Well, who knows what happened after I went through and fucked-up their game plan. But people should still be there. Here, it’s a different story. Apparently.

It’s like being on the other side of a door in Ostium. With everyone gone. And none of us ever found out what the hell the deal was with all that. Were all these people all of a sudden being zapped into nonexistence? Being sent somewhere else? Another timeline perhaps? Something. It never made sense. But thinking they were all being obliterated. Atomized. That just didn’t feel right. Too much. Too far-fetched. Even if that was the road Jake kept sending himself down.

So is it the same deal here? In this Ostium Network? But this isn’t a door in Ostium. This is separate from that. A level above it. A step before it. Without this place, there is no Ostium, so it can’t be that.

But thinking back to that cemetery . . . There were an awful lot of headstones there. It was a thriving place of the dead. And compared to my Ostium Network where there was no such place, it was . . . An impossibility. So maybe they had something big happen here. Before . . . Ostium took its first victim. A sickness maybe. Something they couldn’t control. Couldn’t predict. And people started dying. A lot of people. For some reason. And there wasn’t anything they could do about it. They couldn’t bring in outsiders to help. No doctors or military or whatever they thought might help to solve the problem. And they couldn’t send everyone out either. Send them back to wherever they came from. It needed to be contained. And if they didn’t understand what was going on they couldn’t afford to send people back to the real world.

Maybe it was contagious, whatever it was.

And that’s when the scary thought drops into my mind like a stone into a pond: what if it’s still contagious and still here?

I’ve never been one to shirk my duties. I thrive on facing things head on. Facing fucking reality, no matter how real it might be.

I’m stuck here. There’s nothing I can do about it. If there’s some shit in the air here that’s gonna kill me, then that’s that.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy myself as much as I can. Which also means taking care of myself too.

Which leads me to something I haven’t talked about before. Something the Ostium Network did let us know about shortly after we started working here. And it’s something I’ve never heard anyone – man, woman or other – ever turn down.

Honestly, it pretty much makes up for them taking our implants away as soon as we got here.

I’m going to need a moment before I start talking about this.

And a drink.

[PAUSE]

I didn’t notice it till yesterday. In all my time in Ostium. Being with Jake. Being that way with Jake. Going through all those doors. Facing oncoming death and blackness. Being scared shitless. No. The thought never came into my head. But yesterday I saw a number of the spots had returned to my hands. They look like biggish moles. One looks kinda gray. Mostly they’re brown. Nothing really alarming. Perfectly ordinary for someone who’s spent their time on this lump of rock hurtling through time and space for over fifty-six years. Yes. Some call them . . . [Said distastefully] Liver spots. I’ve never been a fan of that term. But they are a normal sign of old age.

And honestly, when the Ostium Network said they really wanted me . . . At my age. I was shocked. Really shocked. But I still wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity like this, especially not if I got to work with my son. It wasn’t like it said “must be able to lift over fifty pounds” on the application. So I knew I’d be okay, and the sheer excitement I got from the mystery surrounding the job, and by how much they wanted me, meant I could never turn them down or look back.

And I didn’t.

By the way, I can totally lift fifty pounds. Sixty even!

And so a month into our training, one by one, we met with a doctor, and had a specific procedure explained to us, and were given the option of saying yay or nay to it. Like I said: as far as I know, no one ever said nay.

In the time I’m from, which is coming in on the end of the twenty-first century – I don’t know why I’m keeping this number secret, but it’s a little something, a little increment, a tidbit that only I know and you don’t – longevity and health has made some great strides, and it’s now fairly common for people to make it to a hundred years of age. How they get there and what sort of health they’re in physically and mentally remains to be seen.

So I met with the doctor. A young, vivacious looking sister. I figured it was another routine check-up. We hadn’t been poked and prodded enough when we first arrived, so now it was time for a little more sadism. But she sat me down in a cushy seat at her desk and told me about how the Ostium Network had made many advancements in many fields, including that of health and longevity. As an employee for the Ostium Network, there were certain procedures available to me, if I wanted them. Then she started spouting a bunch of medical jargon and I felt like I was back in class. She said shit about telomeres a lot, whatever those are. At the end she put it in nice clear terms: if I chose to go through all three of the procedures, I would come out the other end looking and feeling twenty years younger. And there were no side-effects whatsoever. Other than my peers being shocked at how fine I would now look.

I said sure. I was already fully aware of the number of young people employed by the Ostium Network. What better way to level the playing field? Am I right?

It took three hours. Some painless injections. Some medications. Then ninety minutes in a special chamber that filled with this goo. I was fitted with a breathing mask. Stripped down to my birthday suit. And got comfortable. Fortunately, the goo was warm. It was pretty relaxing actually. Took a nice nap and they woke me when I was done.

And they were totally fucking right. I looked in my mid thirties and I couldn’t believe it. I felt awesome. Just great. And like I said, everyone had this done to smooth away wrinkles, energize muscles and look a little younger and healthier, even if they were in peak physical condition with looks to boot. Steve shaved off a year or two. But I was one of the “elderly” few who turned the clock back a lot. There were a lot of heads turning my way after that.

After it was all done and I was dressed back in my now looser fitting clothes, the doctor sat me down again and explained how this wasn’t a temporary thing. That the process could be done repeatedly . . . Indefinitely.

I don’t think I fully processed the true meaning of this statement until . . . Perhaps now? Maybe because I didn’t believe it? Maybe no one did, but did it anyway? She’d just said, basically, that we could all live forever. If we wanted. We could become immortal. The caveat was that we always had a choice in this; it was never chosen for us. This wasn’t going to be an immortal existence doomed to never be able to die. When one wanted to kick the bucket willingly, they certainly could. Not to mention, all the other “common” and “popular” ways some choose to end their lives or have their lives ended for themselves.

I was told that the best and most effective treatment was an hour “goo bath” every six months.

A paltry price to pay for looking this fucking badass.

I’d surpassed the six-month mark. Was closing in on a year actually. So it only made sense some of my body’s cells were now starting to feel their age.

The first question was: did the goo bath exist in this Ostium Network and was it still working?

The second question was: did I still want to?

[SHORT PAUSE]

Fuck yeah! Was the resounding response to the second one. Answering the first question took a little longer as I had to remember what room the goo baths were located in what building. I did find it pretty quick. Everything was running like normal. And, fortunately, I’d had the procedure done enough times to know the actual operating of the bath was something even I could handle. In a few minutes I had everything powered up and running, and the purple filling up just right.

When it was ready, I set an alarm, stripped down, and like Goldilocks, stepped into the just right goo with the respirator running and got comfortable. I didn’t sleep this time. Didn’t trust that nothing would go wrong. When the alarm went off, I was up and out of there and going through cleaning procedures according to protocol.

Before I put my clothes back on I checked the full-length mirror which was simply required in this room. I looked thirty-six again and amazing. Like before. I couldn’t help winking at myself.

The doctor had told me there were some more severe procedures that could increase the aging retraction to up to thirty years, but with there were potential side effects and irregularities. That last word had me steering well clear of that risk. Twenty was just fine for me.

And then I was back in my familiar apartment, after a nice long hot shower, with a steaming mug of tea, contemplating on the next steps I could take and making the nightly journal entry.

Before I looked at entering the world of buildings and offices and locations I’d never been before in the Ostium Network, there was one last place I hadn’t been that I have to make myself check.

Steve’s place.

[PAUSE]

His place isn’t too far from. I haven’t forgotten where it is. Some things you can’t forget. But is far enough that it’s a bit of a walk. I take the EV and I’m there it minutes. It takes me twice as many minutes to leave the vehicle and make it to the door. Then I’m stopped in my tracks.

The door is half open. What the fuck? It’s just like mine, with the ID pad. Just like all the others along this street. All those doors are closed. How comes this one isn’t? I step into the doorway, pushing it open. It doesn’t make a sound. Good. I go inside and take slow steps, keeping as quiet as possible, and listening for anything. Or anyone. I enter the living room and then I just wait. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Then fifteen. In all that time I keep perfectly still. I hear nothing but my own breathing.

I relax then. Check out the other rooms just to be certain.

I’m alone here, as I expect to be.

Then the emotion washes over me like a wave I can barely stand up against.

This is where he lived. Where he was. His smell is here, in every room. In his bedroom, his bed is still unmade. I’m unable to stop myself from smelling his pillow. That starts the tears. I look in his closet, where his smell is even stronger. More tears come then and I just let them fall.

In the living room I sit on the single couch and have a long, good, healthy cry, feeling the sobs wrenched from me and thrown away, not wanting them back.

More time passes, and I’m able to get myself back together. I feel my hand reaching over to the lamp on the small table next to the couch. I’ve sat in this exact spot many times with my lovely son. Beneath the lamp is a framed photograph of us. It got taken not long after we arrived at Ostium and we asked to have prints and each got one, along with frames. We keep them in the same spots in our respective apartments. Some might think it kind of sappy. It was Steve’s idea. I thought it was beautiful and was really touched by the gesture.

Except my hand’s not finding the photo. I turn and look and beneath the lamp is . . . No photo. There was a photo there before. Most fucking definitely. I can still see a thin layer of dust on the table. Where the frame was are marks and grooves in the dust. Tracks indicating the photo has been taken.

What the fuck?

Someone’s been here.

And for the first time being back in the Ostium Network, where I thought I was all alone, I start to feel afraid.

And that’s when another loud fucking boom happens.

JAKE SPEAKING:

I can’t believe we’re here: the rock of Gibraltar; one of the pillars of Hercules; the gateway to the Atlantic; the doorway to the Mediterranean. And speaking of doorway . . .

I turn around, looking behind me to see if there’s anything . . . But there’s no indication of the rip or rift I created, what I made that was somehow able to get us from that place in Fort Bragg to . . . Here. I’m still not sure exactly how I did . . . All that.

I was so goddamn scared at the end there. With that lady . . . That thing coming for us. I don’t know what it would’ve done to us, but I’ve got an idea what it’s capable of. Yeah. You remember the bodies . . . The state of the bodies in that house in Fort Bragg when we found them that first time.

Life destroying.

Soul destroying.

I’m never going to get over it. And, even if I wanted to, I could never forget it. Yeah. Two words. Photographic memory. And that’s the only time I’m going to mention it . . . In this recording at least.

Hey, it’s a new place, a new world. So it’s like I have a clean slate . . . A tabula rasa if you will to wax poetic on my photographic memory. Eidetic? Isn’t that another way to say it?

And now Dave’s giving me one of his . . . Er, what would he call it: bloody pissed off looks?

Oh good, now he’s smirking. Must’ve said the right thing.

“So where shall we start?” I ask.

He pauses, for a number of seconds, eyes wide, and then says:

DAVE: “How should I bloody know? I don’t live here, do I?”

JAKE: “No, but I thought, you know, since they speak English here and have a lot of British ex-patriots, you might know a thing or two about it?”

DAVE: “Well, I bloody don’t! Yes, they have a lot of expats down here, but I never been bloody one of them. No bloody clue, mate. I’ve traveled around a bit, but not to here. And I don’t see another living soul around . . . As per usual with anything related to Ostium, so . . . Your guess is as good as mine: what does the great Jake Fisher think about all this?”

The sarcasm is oozing out, like fucking authentic Canadian maple syrup. I’m gonna give the guy some space.

JAKE: “You know,” I say, “Let me think about all this for a bit. Need some physical as well as mental space.”

DAVE: “Fine mate, take all the time you need. I need to sift through my mangled thoughts too.”

I step away, out of earshot. Dave seems to be going through . . . Something, I don’t know what. We’ve been through a lot of shit in the last twenty-four hours. Him just as much as me, according to his wild ride of a story. He saw that . . . Crone? I don’t know what to call her or it, so I’ll stick with crone for now. It was definitely female, but also definitely not human. I suppose it would be more accurate to say it had the outward appearance . . . The visible features of a woman. But that was as far as it went.

So Dave can have some private time to try and process all this. Being where we are now and all that. And it gives me some time to process all this too. I really need to think about everything that’s happened and try and digest it in some way.

All the shit that happened to me. When the blackness got me. I don’t know what the fuck it all was. And I don’t think I’m ever going to really know. It was some sort of messed up journey. A pilgrimage maybe? No. That implies a spirituality. I didn’t feel anything . . . Spiritual going on there. It just . . . It just happened. Whatever the fuck it all was.

And after that there was . . . Roanoke. Again. Somehow. And Dave there. Again . . . Somehow.

I suppose I should address my . . . Oh, what shall we call them . . . Changes? Upgrades? Improvements? Enhancements? I sound like a goddamn transformer! Or a version of Windows. Don’t worry, like Windows, I still have plenty of problems to deal with of my own. I just hope I don’t start crashing all the time. Blue screen of death and all that.

But when I was there, in Roanoke, I felt changed somehow. Things were just clearer too me, mentally. It was like I’d gotten more of the big picture and it’s all starting to kind of make sense to me now. No. Don’t ask for details. I can’t give you anything . . . Concrete. Just these vague platitudes. But I feel stronger. Dare I say more powerful?

Yeah . . . Yeah, that’s right. I do feel stronger and more able to handle all this. To deal with what Ostium throws at me.

So when I knew we were going to have to come face to face with . . . The crone, part of me was like: I have never been this scared, even when I was six and saw that Terrorvision movie that left some very horrific images in my mind and made every shape in the darkness move and come to life. But another part of me was in the zone of: this is another part of Ostium, coming after you just like the blackness, trying to stop you. Will it succeed? Possibly. But you’re going to do what you can to fight back. Maybe you’ll win. Maybe you’ll lose. But if you do, you’re gonna die trying.

The sheer power the crone possessed was . . . Overwhelming. That’s the best word for it. I’m pretty sure Dave will agree with me on that point. Outgunned and outmaneuvered. A expression they like to use in movies when they get their asses handed to them? Or something like that. Yeah. It was sort of like that.

And sort of like living in Australia.

Okay, hear me out for a moment: the number of extremely poisonous and venomous and downright scarifying in the sense that you will be killed creatures living on one substantial Australian landmass is astounding. I know, I know. Over twenty million people live there. They walk around. They live in houses. They swim in the warm waters and the ocean. And they don’t get killed by any of these pesky, lethal beasties. But I’m just imagining standing on that continent and wondering what might be watching me at that very moment, waiting to sink it claws or fangs or other sharp, venomous protrusions into me . . .

And where the hell was I going with this?

The crone.

We felt helpless against her. Overwhelmed by her powers, whatever they might be. It was her sheer presence, her approaching form . . . The aura of doom stretched far and wide to us. We needed to find a way out. Somehow. Or it was all going to be over. Like that. We’d just be ripe pickings for her. Lying their forlorn and helpless. Just like she wanted, no doubt.

So I used that small part of me. The part that still had hope. To find a way. To come up with a way. To just do something.

That small part of me was feeling good about those men I saved. The soldiers. Sending them through an ostium I created; a new door to their place of origin. Where they wanted to go. And preventing the crone from getting at them. I made that door a reality for them. Therefore, there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t make it a reality for us to. I don’t know where it actually took them, but I knew I’d made it happen.

If I did it once, I could do it again. Yes. It takes focus and concentration and a considerable amount of energy to carry out. I was wiped after doing that one for the men. It had to be big enough for them to fit through, and last long enough for all of them, which is why I pretty much just passed out afterward. For a little while.

And that’s why I was only able to make a small ostium. A small doorway just big enough for each of us to essentially squeeze through. Which I did. And we did make it through. Barely.

And that’s how we ended up in the warm, sunny climes of the Rock of Gibraltar.

[PAUSE]

DAVE SPEAKING:

Oh . . . Shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Something’s happening to me again. And I don’t know what the fuck it is. Again! Thank god Jake gave me some time alone. To think. To . . . To try to put the pieces together. He’s probably doing the same bloody thing right now.

Fooooook.

Okay. Keep it together mate. Let’s try and . . . Make some sense of this. Let’s . . . Let’s try starting at the beginning. Well, not the complete beginning. The beginning of . . . The current shit-storm.

[Breath]

She . . . No . . . There’s was nothing human about it. I might’ve thought it was an old woman. A crone. But the way it moved. The way it . . . Spoke. The voice. I’ve never . . . Well, I’ve never heard or seen anything like it before. Obviously. I was . . . Shitting myself. Not literally. Thank god. But hearing it . . . Knowing it was coming closer; coming for us. And what it might do . . . Lots of things going through my mind. Very. Fucking. Scary. Things.

But . . . But Jake did it. Somehow. He got those soldiers out. Did the impossible.

In that room. I thought that was it. I thought we were done for. I half gave up . . . No. I did give up. Fully and completely. I thought it was the end, and soon we were going to be its play things. Shortly to be experiencing new levels and ways of pain.

But Jake did it. Somehow. He used whatever will power he had left. Dragged me along. And then opened another fucking door. A small one. And got us through. Somehow. Just in time. I was waiting for its . . . Its talons to grasp my ankles and pull me back from that opening. That ostium. That door to freedom . . .

But we made it.

And now we’re here. Gibraltar. Gib. The Rock.

I lied to Jake. I have been here before. Once. When I was on holiday on the Costa del Sol. Spent a day taking the hydrofoil across to Tangiers. And a day visiting Gib. This little piece of England . . . A home away from home. It was nothing special really. Lots of British things. Lots of people speaking English. So not that different really from Spain. Like I said. Nothing special. Nothing that would’ve helped Jake at all. It’s not like I can tell him where certain places are. I went to the shops. Had lunch at a pub. And then went back to my hotel across the border.

I still feel uncomfortable about it. Guilty. And I know. I could easily walk over to him right now and make things kosher.

But . . . What’s done is done. And I’m going to leave it at that.

So let’s talk about the other fox in the hen house.

Yes. You heard me right. I’m dealing with more than one at the moment.

Fuck me. I know.

So the other thing I’m trying to wrap my mind around right now is . . . What I’m feeling being back here. In Gibraltar. A familiarity. It’s not that I’ve been here once before. A long time ago. It’s that . . . I’m going through a series of emotions. Being here again. Feelings and thoughts . . . Strange pictures flickering through my mind . . . It’s all the sort of stuff that would inform a bloke he’s back in his old haunts. A place he definitively called home at some point in his life.

As far as I know I’ve spent a whole what . . . four hours here in my entire life. So, riddle me this Batman: why am I having all these feels when I look down the street we’re standing on? Why do I know that the street we’re standing on is called Devil’s Tower Road? I know. It’s an unusual name. But this street looks like any old street. And I can see a sign over there, in the distance, telling me I know exactly where I am. Why do I feel like I’ve cast my gaze over these buildings lots of times before; so many times that they’ve become mundane to me. Normal. Why am I casting my gaze up up to the very top of the rock where I can see a very strange looking building. And I think my brain just turned over in it’s skull. I’m experiencing a very strong sense of deja vu right now. Double deja vu! Because . . . Because in my mind I can remember looking up there to the top of that very iconic mountain when I last visited here and not seeing that strange thing up there. There were some aerial thingies and that was it.

Except. Except! Seeing that fucking strange-looking building up there feels . . . In tune with everything else I’m looking at around it. It too feels familiar . . . And comfortable . . . And correct. Part of the natural facade here.

I turn around in a slow circle and then feel something else pulling at me. Setting off certain synapses in my brain.

DAVE: “Jake? Jake!” I yell at him.

He turns and looks at me.

DAVE: I have a lot of shit going on with me mentally right now. I’m sure you do too. But there’s something really fucking weird going on with me. And I need to ask you a favor, mate.”

DAVE: “I need you to follow me. Keep up, I’m going to be going pretty fast.”

And then I’m off, chasing a thought that should be a memory for me, but both is and isn’t some-fucking-how. Because I can’t actually remember experiencing it for the first time.

It’s . . . It’s a very weird fucking feeling.

I just hope I don’t go completely bonkers when I find out what it actually is.

[PAUSE]

JAKE:

I’m following Dave and I have no clue where we’re going. He shouldn’t have a clue either, but he’s walking like he knows . . . With determination. I don’t know. The guys walking like he has a plan, and since I’ve got bupkis, I’m all legs and feet . . . As in I’m following him.

It feels weird here. Aforementioned weirdnesses aside, there’s something just off about this place. It’s not that it’s a totally foreign country to me, because it obviously is. But no. It’s something more. This place has a . . . I don’t know . . . Like a future feel to me. Not distant future, but near future. Everything looks clean and shiny and sleek. I know. There’s no people here, so that makes sense. But I can’t quite put my finger on it. I can see the buildings. I can see the asphalt road I’m walking on. And yet, they seem unusual to me . . . Not quite right. I’m looking at this one building I’m walking past. It’s got five floors by the look of it. Lots of windows. A few balconies. All normal stuff, right? But as I look at it I’m noticing the edges of the buildings are all rounded. When I think of buildings in my head I picture corners . . . Four corners to a building. Perfect ninety-degree angled sides, not rounded edges going from bottom to top.

And the facade of the building. It’s not brick. It doesn’t look like a concrete outer layer. It doesn’t even look like paint actually. It’s a reddish color, like a dark red. And it’s shiny. Reflective. Almost looks like a plastic polymer, which is just crazy for the outside of a building. Right? The windows are dark black. So one-way probably? But they look too black. Not dark like the fancy windows people have in their cars. They . . . They don’t really look like glass. Is that even possible?

As for the road. I said asphalt, but I don’t know what the hell it’s made of. It’s a gray color, pretty light. It’s also sort of springy. With each step, I can feel it push down a little with my weight, then lift up as I raise my foot. So what? Rubber? Chewing gum roads?

And before me I can now see water. Not that weird, right? When I picture Gibraltar in my head, it’s a little like San Francisco. A promontory of land sticking out into the waters of . . . In this case, the Mediterranean. But I know enough basic geography, at least when it comes to the Iberian peninsula – guess those many hours of Geoguessr finally paid off for something, right? Emphatic wink-wink! To know that the mountain of Gibraltar, the pillar of Hercules is sort of on the outer edge of the town or colony or whatever it is. All the buildings and people pretty much live on the side facing Spain, so to speak. Meaning the direction we’re headed in is towards the border. Towards the mainland. Meaning there should be water surrounding the mountain and town, but where we’re headed should be nothing but land. I think there’s even supposed to be an airport somewhere near here, along with a border crossing. And that’s not what I’m seeing. Dave’s face is telling me he thinks something’s not right in the state of Gibraltar as well.

[Short pause]

Okay, we’re at the water’s edge now and . . . Yeah. It’s definitely not right. Where there should be land there’s water. And I’m not just talking a little, like a stream or even a river in between. No. The land belonging to the considerably-sized country known as Spain is . . . Nowhere to be found. I’m looking all along the horizon where I see water and there’s absolutely no sign of land anywhere.

Okay. Now I’m starting to get . . . Scared.

JAKE: “What the fuck’s going on here, Dave?”

He turns to me, bewilderment as plain on his face as if it were a pie I’d just thrown at him.

Yeah. I know. That’s a pretty bad metaphor. But it’s because I’m kinda freaking out right now.

DAVE: “It’s . . . It’s a bloody island.”

JAKE [shock and surprise]: “What?!”

DAVE: “It’s a bloody island mate. You know. Bit of land with water all round it.”

JAKE [angry, scared]: “I know what a fucking island is. Mate. But last time I checked Gibraltar was very much not an island and very firmly attached to the big and very unmissable country of España.”

Dave just stares at me. He doesn’t say anything. Then he sort of shrugs his shoulders and turns back to the water.

It’s a very smart move, because I’m getting more pissed off as time passes. It’s how I’m dealing with this situation apparently. If he kept talking, I might’ve punched him, and the last time I did something like that was . . . I don’t know. Middle school? A very long time ago. But Dave turning around immediately diffuses the situation. I’m confronted by all that water again and it shuts me the hell up, almost as if I just went and doused my head in it.

There’s also proof that Gibraltar didn’t just decide to separate itself from mainland Spain for some reason, or, like, a really bad earthquake caused it to happen somehow . . . In front of us is a wooden dock. Solidly built. About thirty feet long. There are stanchions. Looks like a space for one big boat or a couple small ones. But it’s presence is very . . . Permanent. This dock has been here a while, which means Gibraltar has been in this way for some time.

[Booming sound]

And that’s when there’s this loud, distant booming sound that echoes off the rock of Gibraltar for a long time . . .

Dave and I spin around and face the rock, the town and buildings laid out before us. It was deep and echoing, but unlike anything I’ve really heard before. I have no clue what it is. I’m searching the skyline just above the buildings for a cloud of anything . . . Smoke? Dust? A radioactive cloud?

Sorry. That last one was in poor taste.

DAVE: “What the bloody hell was that?!”

JAKE: “I don’t know, man. I’ve never heard anything like it. You?”

DAVE: “No, mate.”

JAKE: “I’m looking for any signs of it. Smoke or something. But I can’t see anything. Can you?”

DAVE: “Looks all clear to me. Bloody scary. That’s for sure.”

JAKE: “Yeah. I’m glad we haven’t made the really dumb decision to split up yet. Hearing that on my own would’ve been . . . Bad.”

DAVE [concerned]: “Do you want to go separate ways then?”

JAKE: “No. No! I was just saying. It was really fucking scary hearing that. And I’m really glad you’re here. With me.”

Dave raises his hand and offers a fist bump. I complete it, not wanting to leave the guy hanging.

It helps break the mood.

DAVE: “You know what?”

JAKE: “What?”

DAVE: “I’m bloody famished.”

JAKE: “You know. Now that you mention it, I could totally go for some grub about now. Know of any good places in town?”

He gives me a look questioning whether I’m being serious or not. I give a slight shake of the head and he starts smiling again.

DAVE: “Not a bloody clue. But it can’t hurt to have a look now, can it?”

JAKE: “Lead the way. Your guess is as good as mine.”

We both take one last look at the deep waters before us, then start walking back into town.

[Break]

DAVE:

I don’t really know if I have a poker face, but when I got to the water’s edge I wasn’t as surprised as I should’ve been. I put on a performance for Jake and I think he believed me. The double-deja vu sense isn’t going away. Not at all. If anything, it’s getting stronger. It’s making me come to terms with a fact that I just have to accept. All the evidence is pointing towards it.

I’ve been here before. In this Gibraltar. This other Gib. I know it’s not the one I visited lots of years ago. It’s different. Feels more modern. Might even say futuristic. And since we got here via a device that’s known for traveling through time, it really shouldn’t be that surprising, should it? It’s still blood disconcerting. Coming to grips with me being here before but still not able to remember under what circumstances.

I suppose I just have to trust that my mind will unfurl all those memories eventually. They keep coming to me in bits and pieces. Random images. No people in them. Yet. I’m hoping that will change. The sooner the better. Remembering a specific someone being here with me will do wonders for the cognitive recall.

For now, I’ll just keep muddling along.

[Short pause]

We’ve been walking for quite a while now. Not really saying anything to each other. I think Jake is still working on taking all this in. It’s a big deal for him. For me too, obviously. But especially for him. He had his heart set on Ostium. Completely and utterly. He probably thought he was going to live out his days there. And now all that’s gone. I wonder if he’s thought about it yet. You know. The fact that he might never be going back there. He could do his fancy magic and make a door back there. Possibly. I don’t know. It took a helluva lot of mojo to get the door to here. It’s not an easy thing. Obviously. Probably bloody hard to get the door to go exactly where you want it to go. And when too. So that might be it for Jake and Ostium then. Big bloody deal that. I actually really hope he hasn’t considered it yet. It’s going to start him on a downward spiral. Definitely.

Oh look. Here’s a big building. One storey. Looks pretty promising.

DAVE: “Oy, Jake! I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

I point to where I mean and the the smile that light’s up his face is like a burst of fresh sunshine after some English rain. Does wonders for the constitution.

[PAUSE]

JAKE:

We’re at the door and I do the honors. I feel it’s like my duty or something. There’s a handle which I turn, but nothing moves. I pull and feel a little give. So I give it a yank. With a hermetically-sealed whoosh, the door opens and we go in.

JAKE: “Nice job, Dave. Hole in one!”

It’s a big room with lots of tables and chairs. They all look to be some sort of white plastic, but glossy. Everything looks shiny and clean. Not a scratch or speck of dust in sight.

JAKE: “Hey, Dave. Notice anything weird about this place?”

Dave’s looking around, trying to figure out what I’m getting at.

DAVE: “Erm . . . Not . . . Really? Give us a clue?”

JAKE: “The lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

DAVE: “Oh my god, you’re bloody right!”

I didn’t catch it right away, so when I did it made me take a deep breath. The lights are all on, giving us the full view of the room. There’s a long counter and behind it a door that presumably leads to a kitchen. I can hear humming coming from that direction.

DAVE: “Sounds like everything’s up and running and kosher. I can hear the fridges and freezers singing their chilly symphony in the kitchen.”

JAKE [laughing]: “That’s pretty  good, Dave. I like that. Er . . . Garcon, could I see a menu please?”

DAVE [laughing, attempt at French accent]: “Non, non, monsieur. That will not be necessary. You will take a seat. Tout suit, si vous plait. And I shall prepare the chef’s special which will be the most exquisite meal you have ever tasted.”

JAKE [laughing, 20’s mobster accent]: “And be snappy about it, kid!”

Giggling to himself, Dave disappears into the kitchen. I walk slowly around the room, trying to spot anything I might’ve missed on first entering. Doesn’t look like it. Everything seems pristine and well kept. Impeccable is a word that comes to mind. I head behind the counter and start looking through cabinets above and below. I soon find the glasses, though cups is a more accurate description. Long and tall and made of something that isn’t glass, but also isn’t just plastic. Something else completely. Now I’m on the hunt for a beverage. I’m sure I could find a faucet and get some water, but this place seems to be of a high caliber, so I’m hoping to score big.

After opening many doors, I find a number of drinks refrigerators, though nothing is labeled, which I think a little weird. I grab a bottle – like the cup, it’s not glass or plastic – and study the top, trying to figure out how to open it. I try a clockwise, then counter-clockwise twist. The latter does the trick and there’s a hiss of escaping carbonation.

Oh, baby.

I grab another for Dave, as well as a cup. Then I look for an icebox. Doesn’t take long and I’m shocked to find it well stocked. Score!

I choose a table in the center of the room and poor our drinks. I sit and get comfortable. I take a sip, feeling the bubbles go up my nose and make my eyes water. It’s heavenly. It’s some sort of cola. Like the cup and bottle, it’s an in between: not Coca Cola, but not Pepsi either. But it takes fucking great.

I take a long second drink, knowing there’s lots more where that came from.

That’s when Dave comes through the kitchen door with two plates of steaming hot food. The smell quickly pervades the room and my stomach immediately starts making some very audible noises.

He puts the plates down and I stare in head-over-heels love at big steaks, boiled potatoes, and is that broccoli? It looks a vibrant green and incredibly fresh. Dave is back again with silverware.

We sit down to eat, both grabbing out drinks and toasting.

JAKE: “Welcome to Gibraltar.”

Then we start eating. I attack the broccoli first and it’s as juicy and delicious as it looks. The potatoes are soft and already have salt and pepper. The steak is medium rare and just wonderful. As I savor each bite, I notice Dave’s steak is well done.

He is British after all.

[PAUSE]

DAVE:

I’m all full up. That meal was just an absolute joy. Definitely the best thing I’ve eaten in . . . Hwaw, gawd knows. Probably my entire bloody life. I knew Jake would want his meat rare and bloody. Me. I like mine cooked all the way through. Call me old fashioned.

I’m cleaning up now. I insisted Jake stay in his seat. Told him I’d see if I can come up with some sort of dessert. I had to tell him I was on the hunt for some spotted dick. Couldn’t avoid that one, could I?

And Jake knew what I meant. Had a right laugh at it. Bless him.

I didn’t tell Jake about the packaging the meat was in. It had a, well, not really a sell by, but more of an “eat by” date. It said January 14. And the year was . . . 2105. I know. I couldn’t fucking believe it when I saw it. I was right though. This place is in the future. Lot farther than I thought.

I don’t know about telling Jake. If I should. When I should. It’s a lot to take in . . . No, I will tell him. Just not yet. After the meal’s all done.

So . . .

It’s while I’m cleaning things up that I find the rubbish bin. To throw away the packaging and other bits. It’s in a logical spot, so doesn’t take me long to find. I open it up, and glance into it, then drop what’s in my hands.

I start walking away, and like a cliche cartoon character I stop. I slowly walk back to the bin and open it up again. I take out each piece of rubbish I threw in. It’s the two of us. So not a lot. I know what each piece is. It all comes out.

Then I look back in the rubbish bin.

At the bottom is more packaging and some other rubbish. I take it out. It’s packaging for chicken. And for vegetables. And at the very bottom is a finished bottle of wine.

I have a sniff, then turn it over. A few drops come out.

Someone’s been here.

Recently.

So let me be straight . . . As a nail. Frank . . . As a guy named Frank. I left a town of nobody and nothing, all alone and abandoned. Literally crawled through a fuck-ton of food to make it through this tiny-ass hole that I may have been able to fit through when I was like . . . Eight. Got through a roller coaster of fucked-up shit and banshees screaming at me, feeling my life was gonna end at any second. Came through to the unofficial (unless you work for them, in which case, it’s very fucking official) headquarters of the Ostium Network, where hundreds of people – possibly as many as a thousand – work . . . Only to discover I’m all on my own again.

Well . . .

This is just . . .

Great.

Real. Fucking. Great.

[PAUSE]

I suppose I should look on the bright side. Right? Well, first I need to find the bright side. Before I was stuck in Ostium by my lonesome. Now I’ve got a whole fucking island to myself. Plus a goddamn mountain of rock. Is the rock of Gibraltar really considered a mountain? Or is it just a really pronounced hill? Well, I guess just hearing Jake’s imaginary voice – the voice of my sub-conscious – was enough to jump-start his whole shtick in my head.

Wait! Wait a second . . .

[Short pause]

Okay, good. Seems like Jake’s not at home. For now. Only when shit’s going down, apparently.

Okay.

Taking the good with the bad here.

So where shall we go first? Since we’ve got the whole fucking place to ourselves. How about some of those spots they didn’t want any of us non-specially trained going?

Sounds good to me.

We only got to see Ostium that one time. Really. When they took us through. To check it out. We went through. One by one. Using the special door in that special room. The one I ran to when I went after Steve. Trying to get him back. I thought there was just one of . . . Them. You know. Doors. Stargate thingies. Flux capacitor rooms. Whatever you want to call it . . . A transportation vessel. Bunch of fancy words for a door that took you directly to Ostium. The way the big wigs made it sound. With them letting us go through. What a big fucking deal it all was. This was breaking new ground. Bullshit etcetera, bullshit etcetera. You’d think they had just the one room to do it with.

Uh-uh. Apparently not.

After I stepped through into the Ostium Network with my life intact . . . Set foot on the great island of Gibraltar . . . After I did my whole song and dance routine of breathing fresh air, then looking for another living soul and not finding a single one . . . Then fully appreciating the utter fucking badness of it all . . . I took a few deep breaths. Got my shit together. And went back inside to have a look around. I was methodical. Going back to the point of origin. Where I came through. It’s a lot like the one I went through before. A room with a conjoined booth: window looking in so observers can watch anyone going through, or in this case, sending food and supplies through the special small hole.

And after that does it magically appear at the very back of that crazy pantry in Ostium? Because when I tried it I went on one crazy, fucked-up roller coaster of emotion and banshee bantering. As I already mentioned. Obviously the food passing through doesn’t get the . . . “Scenic” tour. So was that just for my benefit? My hindrance? Was that Ostium trying to not just fuck with me but completely throw me off track?

If so, why? What’s Ostium got against me? I know we don’t have the connection . . . The witty repartee . . . The “bro-ness” quality of Mr. Jake Fisher, but . . . We’ve got something, no? After all this time?

I think I’m reaching here.

But I made it through. In one piece. Mostly. I think with my sanity intact. Still checking on that.

So back to looking around. As I said. I want to be thorough about this. Because that’s how Jake would be. That’s how Jake would’ve wanted me to do it. I find more rooms. With doors. Lots more. I count up to 12 by the time I’ve searched the whole big building. All with unmarked doors . . . Do they all lead to Ostium? What the hell were they planning here?

I remember asking in class that day . . . What feels like a billion years ago now . . . About what the point of all this was. What Mr. Incognito running the Ostium Network wanted to get out of it. In my mind I was thinking: what’s the money angle; how’s this guy going to become even richer? And I – along with the rest of the class – was miss-directed and distracted, made to think it not important.

Well. Feels pretty fucking important now. Seeing all these rooms. How many fucking people did they want going into Ostium? Were they going to send us all in at the same time? Going through our most desired doors? Fulfilling our goals and coming back to tell about it.

What the fuck did they want out of it?

And that’s when a scary thought comes to mind. The kind that turns your blood cold. Yeah. It’s an expression. But I’m also fucking feeling it right now. During my immersion research I was very fucking thorough, as I said. Even watched a bunch of animated movies. Covered all my bases. One of them was called Monsters, Inc. About a company that employs monsters to go through . . . Yes, I shit you not: doors. I know! They go through doors and come out of closets to scare little children half to death. What do they get out of it? Power. Energy. The fear and terror is harnessed somehow and helps to power the city where the monsters live. Yeah. Pretty fucked up, I know. And this was a goddamn kids movie!

So is that what’s going on here? Are they getting something . . . I don’t know, metaphysical out of us going through the doors? Why have so many of them in Ostium, and have so many setup here to send us through. Why have that whole home base setup with all the fucking food.

[Sotto vocce] All the better to keep you fed and busy going through doors, my dear . . .

I don’t know. It does seem pretty fucking far-fetched. But there had to be some angle . . .

Oh wait! I got it. Clearly this was all going to be research for a new time traveling reference guide. No?

Talk about hands-on research. In-fucking-situ.

I don’t know if I’ll ever know the why.

What I do know is I’m in the right place to have any chance of finding out.

So let’s keep looking then, shall we?

[Pause]

I’m outside again. The sun still feels fucking amazing. Being in Ostium that long without it affected me more than I thought. I think Jake had some introspections on whether we’d be getting enough Vitamin D without the sun, or whether Ostium had figured out a way to replace that, otherwise we’d start feeling pretty weak . . . I don’t know. It feels glorious right now. And the sea air is just . . . Making me feel renewed. Full of life.

Okay, what were we doing? Right. Heading this way, which I think is . . . North. Along . . . Er: Line Wall Road looks like to Winston Churchill Road. Yep, kinda bizarre, thinking on it now, that the Ostium Network created this whole new civilization basically, on this island, but didn’t bother to rename the streets or anything. I mean, I guess the names they already have are fine, but as you can see, they relate to things like walls and long dead prime ministers. It just feels really fucking out of context.

So why am I heading this way? Well . . . I’ll let you know in just a second . . . And . . . Oh. Well. I guess that fucking solves that then. I’m at the edge of the island. A part where the land meets the sea. It’s a significant part. It’s where there’s a small dock, made to fit just one boat. A special, unique boat. The one that brought Steve and I here. A very, very . . . Very long time ago.

I had a hope . . . No. That’s not true. Or honest. I had a vague fucking inkling that I thought would turn out to be bullshit.

I was right.

There’s no boat. No sign of any boat, or anything being here in a long fucking time. The stanchions are bare and really crusted over with shit. I guess one has this short piece of rope that looks like something the Ancient Mariner was carrying around with him. No one’s been here or used this dock in a long fucking time.

Whelp. I didn’t expect anything. And that’s what I found. So . . . What’s that endearing saying? No harm, no foul.

Yeah.

[Sarcastic] I feel just fucking great now.

Moving on to the next clue of this truly fucked-up scavenger hunt.

[Pause]

Next stop is my old haunt. I know it’s pretty far from the dock, so I walk for awhile in search of one of those self driving cars. Doesn’t take me long. I hop in. The key’s in the ignition. I close my eyes and turn the key, count to ten, then open them.

There are lights! A good sign. I put it in drive and switch to manual, then step on the accelerator and the thing launches into life, throwing me back and almost out of the damn thing. I hit the brakes and stop, then put on my seatbelt. That would’ve been just fan-fucking-tastic. Falling out and breaking my arm or something. With no one around to help. Least I woulda known where the infirmary was. Not that I coulda done anything.

But we’re okay, for now. That’s the important thing.

I hit the pedal again and zip along through empty streets. It’s fucking creepy man. Even creepier than Ostium, if that can be believed. All the empty abandoned buildings. Both sides of the road. It’s like . . . It’s like they’re all staring down at me. Judging me or something. For what? Fuck knows. I’m just on edge. That’s all.

I hope that’s all.

This thing sounds fucking noisy. Which is crazy, because I know how damn quiet they actually are. I never really heard them when I was here back when there were people all around living and doing things. Now it sounds like I’m driving a fucking big rig.

I then recognize the building, even though it looks kinda like all the others.  I hit the breaks, letting out a nice echoing screech. Nice and loud. It feels better than the sound of the EV, and nothing else. Somehow. Maybe because it’s real fucking loud and I made it happen.

I step up to the door and realize something incredibly stupid: it’s locked. The way we usually got in is with a special chip they put in our wrists. They said it wasn’t really to track us or anything, but the look in their eyes said it was definitely for that. But it also had a unique bio-signature to each individual person. So I just needed to wave my hand in front of the panel and . . .

[CLICK]

Good. It still works. That’s really good. I was going to have to try and kick the fucking thing down, which wouldn’t have been easy. It looks tough.

I step inside and notice the smell right away. Dusty. Stuffy. Empty. Feels like it’s been abandoned for a while. Not lived in. But then I pick up other scents. It’s me. Subtle hints. My perfume. My shampoo maybe? Coffee.

Oh god, coffee!

I charge into the small kitchen. I can hear the high-pitched humming of the fridge.

Oh god, yes! There’s power. Hopefully that goes for the entire island. If so, living here for the indefinite period just got a lot fucking better.

Fifteen minutes later, I have a French press full of fresh divine-smelling coffee. Yes. I know. I’m the tea addict. Proclaiming my love for coffee is sacrilegious. Anathema! But that’s partly because I knew I couldn’t get any in Ostium. Tea. Yes. By the buttload. Because it was necessary. And tasted just fine.

But coffee . . . Oh, be still my heart. It has no important or redeeming qualities, other than it smells heavenly, tastes almost as good, and makes me feel on top of the world! I fill a mug – my hands know where to go to find one – and add sugar, which also looks fine.

I take a sip. Gasp. Then another. Then five more in quick succession. My lips are burning. My throat is on fire. But like I said: I’m queen of the fucking world!

Soon the first mug is empty and I’m filling another. Then I take my trip down memory lane, my heart running ahead of me due to nerves but also due to lovely sustaining caffeine.

Everything looks just like I left it. Furniture. Trinkets – what little I’d been able to acquire. My bedroom is the same.

Clothes . . . Clothes! I have my entire wardrobe again! Holy shit-snacks. This day just keeps getting better and fucking better.

I take that as a cue and hop into the bathroom, turning on the water. In eight seconds it turns scalding. I adjust the temperature, strip down, and hop in. My soap and shampoo are there, right next to the conditioner.

Twelve minutes later I come out feeling even better, if that’s possible. I put on some fresh jeans, a tank top and hoodie. Gosh, this feels so great.

I grab my mug of coffee from my bedside table and as I’m about to take a lukewarm sip, I stop. Then put the mug down; almost dropping it. Right next to it, looking slim and innocent, is my datapad.

I’d totally forgotten . . .

No. Another lie to myself. I’d just given up hoping to ever . . .

I pick it up and it comes to life. It’s been comfortably lying on the charging pad for a very long time. The battery is full. It’s connected to the network. I’m able to do all the usual stuff. But there are no recent messages. Not since . . .

[Deadly scared] Oh . . . Shit . . .

[Frightened] The last message . . . was received on August 3rd . . . Ten. Years. Ago.

[Pause]

What does this mean? I can’t have been gone that long. It’s fucking impossible. It’s been what weeks. A month. Two months at the most. But still feels more like a couple weeks. No more. It just . . . It just doesn’t make any fucking sense. How? How?

I guess . . . I guess that explains the stuffy feeling of the apartment.

But the coffee . . .

Maybe it wasn’t as great tasting as I thought . . . No, it tasted fucking great. Must’ve just had it well sealed or something.

Wow. This is . . . A fucking mind-trip.

Could really use Jakey at my side right now. For comfort. And to science this shit out somehow. Try to make some sense of it. And make a bad pun or joke.

Damn. Not much to be done about it now.

I switch to the journal setting and find my last entry.

From the night before I learned about Steve and went into Ostium for the first time.

[Short pause]

[Different voice, reading entry]

They said they’re very close now. Almost ready to send someone through to Ostium. I don’t know who it’s going to be. But not me. That’s for sure. I still haven’t decided when or where I want to go. And last time I talked to Steve he was in the same boat. The kid’s so goddamn excited. But who can blame him. I am too. We all are. So they won’t be sending him in either then. Will it be one of the few who are certain what they want? I wonder if they’ll keep us informed and up to date? On how the person does. I’m guessing the person won’t be going for very long, it being the first time and all. Whoever it is – they gotta know by now – must be petrified. And over the moon at the same time. What a trip it’s going to be. Historical. And if they’re going back in time: then in every sense of the word. Today was a low-key day. Work-wise. We’re all pretty much ready. Except for deciding the when and the where. I’m starting to think I want somewhere in the late 1980s or in the 1990s. Maybe the fall of the Berlin Wall. That would be pretty cool. Or be there at the death of Lady Diana. Just to see if it did all happen as they said. Or maybe check out some of President Clinton’s sax playing. Hah! No thanks. It’s hard. I know I’m going to get lots of opportunities to go. To different times and places. They’ve made that clear to all of us. So long as nothing goes wrong. But I want that first time to be special. Yes. I want losing my Ostium virginity to be fucking special, alright? Jeez. I sound ridiculous. Bet I’m not the only one sweating over this though. Okay. My eyes are getting droopy. Time to put my head down and get some shut-eye. Maybe during the night I’ll have some magical dream that’ll make it all clear for me and come morning I’ll know exactly where I want to go. Only time will tell.

[Short pause]

Once I’m done I can feel the wetness on my cheeks. I’ve been fucking crying. Wow. Didn’t expect that. But this is from so long ago. And I was in such a different place. Such a different frame of mind then. So fucking hopeful and excited about the future. And then They fucked it all up and changed everything.

Okay. Deep breaths. No use moping over it. Fuck all I can really do about it now.

I put the datapad back and grab the mug and head downstairs. After cleaning things up I head out the door and back into the EV.

Time to do a little more sight-seeing.

[Pause]

I’ve got no plan at the moment. Just driving around kinda randomly. Sort of a trip down memory, but also feeling like no one’s holding me back and I can go where the fuck I want. Go through whatever door I want. No one telling me no, I can’t go that way, not allowed. Access fucking denied. Well . . . Not any more!

And then I see a building I’ve never been in before. I remember . . . I remember wanting to go in. Not because I wanted to find out what was inside, but because I just wanted to be allowed. I didn’t want to see another mysterious stranger giving telling me I wasn’t allowed. Like a little fucking kid.

It’s a pretty big building. Multiple floors. No clue what it is.

But I’m about to find out.

Park the EV and hop out. There’s a door. Here’s hoping it’s unlocked.

Bingo. Let’s see what’s behind door number . . . You know what. I’m just gonna not finish that thought.

So what have we got here? A sort of entryway. Closets. A kitchen. Kay, guess they mostly do their own food here instead of going to one of the [sarcastic] truly fabulous eateries in town. And now we’ve got a . . . Wow . . . A fucking game room. What the fuck? Foosball, billiards, even fucking air hockey! What the hell is this place? They never told us about anything like this. It was all work and study and more work and more study. With very little fun time. If I knew this place was here . . . Well, I don’t know how much I’d be here, but I’d at least like the option.

Damn. This place is fucking huge! Who would you need a place like this for? It’d have to be for a big group. Like a . . . Like a . . . [Quietly] I think I know what this place is. But I’m not gonna say yet.

It doesn’t take me long to find the stairs. When I make it to the top I’m not surprised by what I find: a big open floor filled with bunk-beds in two perfectly straight rows; a clear walkway in between them. At the far end is a closed off room where I’m certain I’ll find a bathroom much like a college dorm: toilets and showers.

The quiet seems . . . Thicker somehow up here. It’s probably more about what my brain is doing than what’s physically happening, but still . . . It’s heavy on me, pushing down. Almost palpable. I take a couple deep breaths [deep breathing sounds] and start slowly walking down the central walkway. Each bunk-bed is an exact mirror image to the one either side of it and the ones across from it: two stacked beds; two bedside tables. Along the walls where I first came in are closets that each bear name plates, just like the beds do . . . Names belonging to their owners.

By the third bunk-bed I recognize a name: Tanaka.

An unstoppable image slams into my mind, almost knocking me over. I rest my hand again the bunk-bed, steadying myself, as the memories come unbidden . . .

The starship. Being with Jake. Walking along a hallway of doors. Getting into an elevator. Jake called it a turbolift or . . .gah . . . Spacevator. He said Bridge and it magically took us there. And there were consoles. And beeps. And other sounds. And a screen showing distant stars. And a body. Private Tanaka. Hanging over the console like a . . . Like a piece of forgotten laundry . . . Like a child’s coat left on the floor of the playground on the last day of school. Not important. Unwanted.

I’m stable again. Able to walk. I keep going down all the way to the end. This place should fucking stink. Of sweat. Of men. Of soldiers. Of dudes doing dude things. Eau de testosterone. But it doesn’t. It’s stale and dusty and abandoned. Like my place.

Like no one’s been here in ten years.

Once again I have to ask . . . What. The. Fuck?

I head back downstairs and leave the building. I’m done with this place. For good. Got no plans to ever come back.

Good fucking riddance.

And in case you’re wondering: yes, they’re all there. The names. To all the bodies we found on the other side of the doors in Ostium.

Private Tanaka.

Private Khaling.

Private Ramirez.

Even fucking Sergeant Harris. Honestly, I’m kinda surprised he was bunking with the rest of the guys. With one of his rank and stature, he should’ve had his own place to shack up. Wonder if that was an on high decision for him to be with his men, or his own choice.

Just another one of those things I’ll never know. And don’t fucking care about either.

[Pause]

You know . . . I’m really fucking hungry. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything. There was the coffee . . . And before that? I just don’t remember. So why don’t we go visit one of the Rock’s two fashionable and very chic restaurants. Ostium Network approved of course! The one I’m not going to is called . . . And I kid you not . . . A Little Piece of Heaven. Yep. Those Ostium Network peeps sure had a sense of humor about them. But wait till you hear the name of the place I’m actually going to . . .

Ready for it?

Are you sure?

I’m warning you!

It’s pretty fucking bad!

Okay. Here’s goes: The Cut of the Gib. Yes. I shit you not. Fucking terrible, I know. But it was closer to my place so it’s where I tended to go more often than elsewhere.

Back in the self-driving EV, I turn it to automatic and select the name from a list of places. It’s the second one down, because you tend to want food first and foremost, and other shit second.

It takes less than five minutes and I’m there. No problem finding parking. [Sarcastic] Big surprise.

When I get to the door I turn the handle and pull. It doesn’t move at first, but there’s a little give. It tells me it isn’t actually locked. I spread my feet apart, brace myself, then give it a good yank. It lets out a gasp of air and opens, like a long human sigh. The inside has been sealed . . . Probably for around ten years. I wonder what that means for the food? If the electricity has been going the whole time, we may be in some sort of luck. I dunno.

Speaking of which. It’s totally fucking awesome there’s still power in this place, but who’s paying the bills? What does it run on? Hydroelectric? Tidal? Fucking nuclear power? It’s a question I never asked, but now kinda wished I had. Just to know . . . In case this place goes into meltdown or something. You know. That thought is just too fucking depressing. So I’m just going to ignore it for now. Stick it in the back of my brain and pretend it’s not there. Like I’ve done with so many other things related to Ostium . . .

The place smells clean and untouched, but different . . . Not stale and dusty. Maybe that door was keeping the place hermetically sealed somehow. I go behind the counter and into the kitchen and hear lots of humming from fridges and freezers. I open heavy metal doors to a cloud of icy air and racks of meat and foods; some frozen, others well cooled for over a decade apparently. Most of them appear to be vacuum sealed as well. I grab a heavy pack of what appears to be Teriyaki chicken. The label tells me that it is and the expiration date on it is . . . Twenty fucking years from now. What the hell? Do I dare eat this stuff? It says it’s okay. What kinda shit have they been doing here? I was always wondering where the Ostium Network got their food from exactly. Have they been specially making this stuff for like fifty years? There’s no “package” date, so for all I know, this shit could be a hundred years old.

But I’m fucking hungry. Starving. I’m gonna try it. But I’m also going to keep close to a bathroom.

In less than ten minutes I’ve got electric burners going and I’m frying up that chicken in its own sauce, as well as steaming some vegetables. Fifteen minutes later I sit down to eat with a bottle of wine I find. No worries about that being bad, though it does give a whole new meaning to the term vintage.

The meal is . . . Fucking delicious. Everything tastes heavenly, even though this establishment isn’t A Little Piece of Heaven. I find a complete untouched five-layer chocolate cake that I snag myself a hefty slice of, along with some fresh coffee which also smells and tastes . . . You guessed it: heavenly.

Then I sit and relax for half an hour. Letting the food go down, as the saying goes. But also making sure my stomach and bowels don’t decide to stage a coup against the rest of my organs. I haven’t felt this full in a long time. Not since . . . What was that little town closest to Ostium called? Camarillo? Carillo? Covelo. That was it.

My moment of revelry is broken by a loud noise . . . It sounds like a crack of thunder, only more echoing. Not right in some way.

I leap outta my seat and burst out the doors. The sky above is still a beautiful blue, not a cloud in sight. I’m looking around for  . . . Something . . . Dust, smoke, fucking gas . . . I don’t know. Some sort of origin to that nasty sound. But I can’t see anything out of the ordinary.

What the fuck?

[Pause]

When enough time has passed that I’ve deemed my body and all its internal organs alive and well, I use the facilities, and then I’m back in the self-driving car, trying to decide what the last stop of the day should be before I call it and head for home. I’m checking the locations menu again, scrolling through alphabetically. I’m working through the C’s and stop when I see a word that just doesn’t fit. It’s not part of the great Ostium Network jigsaw. It’s a word I just never expected to hear or ever read in this context.

Cemetery.

No one has ever talked to me about a cemetery in relation to Ostium or on the Rock in any way. Not from a teacher. Not in a class. Not in conversation with friends, acquaintances, or strangers. There was that “story,” that “urban legend” about the guy who wanted to quit. I think I talked about it in a recording. One of the teachers told us about him. How he jumped in the water and just started swimming. Is it true? I don’t think so. What I do know is that he’s the only case of someone dying here. From what they’ve told us. With the number of people we had on the island, yeah, sure, a cemetery just makes sense. People are going to fucking die. It’s the one sure thing in this life . . . Right? Right? So you need a place to stash the dead. Unless there’s something They never told us. A big fucking something.

I hit the button and then I’m on my way to the Ostium cemetery.

It takes a while. At the far end of the island. A good fifteen minutes by self-driving vehicle. I could’ve done it in ten on manual, if I’d known where I was going. It’s not big. At least not as far as cemeteries go. But I’m shocked as soon as I step through the open gateway. There’s a least fifty tombstones here. All simple bright white stone, looks like marble. All with the person’s name on it. No other details.

I get flashbacks of walking through the barracks as I study the tombstones, seeing names again. And then I see familiar ones that stop me in my tracks.

Richard Kahlin.

Jose Ramirez.

Kenzo Tanaka.

Robert Harris.

[Quietly, emotionally] Shit. They’re here. They’re all here. I recognize other names too. Lots of them. Not just the security team. But scientists. Coworkers. Classmates. People I saw and worked and talked with almost every day here.

Now . . . All buried and gone.

Then I see two more tombstones at the end of a row, next to each other.

Steven Chase.

Monica Chase.

That’s when I start shaking uncontrollably. I fall, just catching myself from mashing my face onto the top of the tombstone. It’s Steve’s that’s holding me up right now. I’m hanging over it. Slumped over the tombstone of my dead son.Like a piece of laundry. A forgotten kid’s jacket.

It’s not until later. Much later. On my long and cold drive back to my home, my cheeks still wet with tears, that I realize the image I evoked, slumped over the tombstone of my dead son.

We clean up after ourselves because . . . Well, it’s a rule of time traveling I’ve just decided. If you time travel and you mess with other people’s stuff, you need to clean up after yourself and try your best to keep it as close to the same condition as you first found it. Also because . . . Well, it’s the decent thing to do. We also put out the lamp and the fire. You know, just in case. What if a great conflagration started, consuming everything, and somehow was able to reach through time to Ostium . . . I know. It’s like totally impossible. But still. It makes me feel better knowing these things are taken care of.

As Dave puts away the last mug, he asks: “So what door are we headed to then?”

Jake: “What door?”

Dave: “Yeah. What’s your plan for getting us off Roanoke and to wherever this bloody beach house is? We need a door to go through, don’t we?”

I start shaking my head. “Oh no. Where we’re going we don’t need . . . Doors.”

[Short pause]

Dave: “Nice one. No really. Please be serious for a second.”

Jake: “I am. We don’t need doors. For real.”

Dave: “So I suppose you’ve got some floo powder in your pocket and you’re just going to magic us there?”

Jake: “Ten points for Slytherin!”

Dave: “Oi! I consider myself a bona fide Ravenclaw, thank you very much.”

Jake: “My apologies. And no, I don’t need floo powder, but yes, it is a magic of sorts, and no, no door is needed. But I will need to hold your hand.”

Dave: “Is this part of your newly discovered supernatural abilities after your adventure with the blackness?”

Jake: “You hit the nail right on the head. Now come on. Here, take my hand.”

As soon as he does, I close my eyes and concentrate. I do my best to clear any thoughts of Roanoke and the room we’re in from my mind. As soon as I’ve got it, I picture the setting for that beach house, creating and adding as many details as I can recall both from my memories of visiting there with my ex some time ago, and being there with Monica. One is the real thing; the other possibly the real thing, or an Ostium fabrication, or some in-between alternate world. I just don’t know for sure.

I can see the strip of coastline. The beach. The deep blue of the Pacific. The white crests and froth of crashing waves. The dark sand because it’s nighttime. And the phosphorescent algae in ubiquitous quantities forming a unique glowing map of the starry firmament above. And then there is the house, standing tall and impending like a dark shadow shrouded in gloom. There is the promenade leading to the house, following the beach and next to it a road that continues under a bridge and into complete darkness where no more details are needed.

I’ve got it.

And that’s when I imagine us there, under that bridge, in the darkness, with the road and the promenade and the beach and the ocean and the beach house opening up before us . . .

[Break]

And we’re back. At the same place I’m pretty sure I told Monica I never wanted to be again. The place of such horrific carnage it . . . Well, I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. Also if my plans are correct, I’ve made a significant change in our arrival this time. I added a fourth dimension to my calculations when working out how to arrive at this exact spot. And if you’re not familiar with the fourth dimension, well, let me give you a hint: it’s called time. Right. I’ve arrived at this place earlier than when Monica and I were here last time. Quite a bit earlier.

We start heading down the road toward the house; I want to get there as quick as possible to confirm my expectations and see if I actually pulled this whole thing off correctly, since it was my first time trying this and all.

Dave becomes visibly more agitated the closer we get to the house. He must be remembering my vivid descriptions of what Monica and I found there.

Dave: “Look . . . Do I really need to be here?”

Jake [determined]: “Yes.”

Dave: “I mean, at the moment it all seems to be the one-man-show starring you. You know where you’re going. You know exactly what you’re doing. What do you need me for then?”

Jake: “That’s easy. Bait.”

Dave stops.

Dave: “What?”

I turn to him, looking directly into his eyes.

Jake: “Look Dave. I really need you. I need your help. I can’t do this without you. This is why we were brought together. You’re now just as much a part of this whole Ostium thing as I am.”

Dave [somewhat shocked]: “Really?”

Jake: “Yes. Definitely. Unquestioningly. Now we need to look inside that house so I can confirm we’ve arrived at the right time.”

Dave [now confident]: “Okay. Lead the way, guvna.”

And then I’m speed-walking back toward the house again, not really noticing or caring if Dave is following me. You see, as fun as it is to travel in time and arrive precisely at specific locations when you exactly want to, it doesn’t mean time has stopped for you. Time is always moving forward, whatever year or date or time you’ve traveled to. Even with time travel, you can’t stop it, you can only visit it at different points throughout its life. Like a flowing river. You can look into the river right in front of you. You can look upstream as far as you want. You can go all the way downstream. But that river isn’t going to stop while you’re looking at it. It’s going to do keep doing what a river does: which is flow toward a larger body of water. You can even jump into that river, if you really want to, and you know what’s gonna happen? That’s right. You’re going to flow right along with it, whether its water or time that you’re swimming in.

As for salmon swimming upstream. Applying that rubric to time is a much more complicated upper-level lecture for another time. So let me know once you sign up for that course, and be prepared for A LOT of homework!

I make it to the house and push open the door. The hallway light is on like last time and I go through to the dining room, turning on the light – as I’m very familiar with where the light switch is now – and bracing myself . . .

. . . I let out a long-held breath as Dave joins me by my side. He’s not screaming, so that’s got to be a good sign.

There’s a dining table and chairs, with place settings in front of each chair. There are no bodies or body parts or heads; no people at all.

That’s perfect. I’ve arrived at the right time. I don’t need to bother checking the rest of the house.

“Okay Dave,” I say, turning to him, “time for us to get into our positions.”

The confused look on his face is exactly the one I want him to have when those men arrive.

[Break]

Dave is now where he needs to be: equidistant between the house and the dark tunnel. I tell him to enjoy looking out at the ocean and the lapping waves and the moonlight shining down on the dark sea, and don’t forget the phosphorescent algae. I don’t really care what he wants to look at, but he needs to be ready for when those men come through, because he’s the first thing they’re going to see once they exit that tunnel. They’re going to be wary and confused; on their guard. They just got led through the door by Monica on the other side, so they’re probably going to be pretty pissed off too. As soon as they make eye contact with him, that’s his cue to start running toward the house, then around it, and then toward a spot I’ve designated and where I’ll be real close to.

The soldiers could come through any second, but I still have this calm feeling deep within me – whether it’s in my mind, or my heart, or my soul: I’m not sure, but it’s telling me I’ve still got enough time to do what I need to do.

The river’s flowing like usual . . . Just like time . . . Only this time I’m in a boat and I’m able to control how fast or slow I want or need to go. Though, don’t ask me how; it’s just something I’m now able to do. Like controlling the blackness. So . . . You sick of the river as time metaphor yet? Yeah, I’ll give it a rest. But don’t be surprised if it starts . . . Pouring through when you least expect it.

Okay, time to streamline this and get on with the show.

What’s wrong? Can’t hold your water?

And I’m done . . . My cup runneth over . . .

[Short pause]

I jog along the road, passing the house that is now little more than an innocent and welcome abode for people to stay. Having been inside, I’m a lot calmer around it now. Something I never would’ve expected until I set foot in it for the second time. Well, technically the third time; second time in the world of Ostium.

It wasn’t like I sat down and thought out this plan. It kinda all just came back to me on Roanoke. In the space of . . . What? Seconds? Milliseconds? Nanoseconds? Fractions of a nanosecond? It felt almost instantaneous. I’ve heard a number of authors I like to read describe this feeling during interviews, for how they come up with stories and book ideas. Usually they’ll be doing something else to divert their attention, like exercise, going for a walk, a manual task, while in the back of their mind they’re telling themselves to think about some plot they’re working on . . . And then, all of a sudden, it’ll all be there, coherent and complete, inside their heads. Now they just need to get it written down or typed out before it all goes away. I’ve always marveled at Stephen King’s ability to refrain from writing down story ideas but letting them mature, adapt, and form in his mind over time and when they’re ready, that’s when he starts writing the book.

Okay, enough distraction. I’m now also in position. I’m hiding in some bushes, with a clear sight of the road in front of me. I can see back to where Dave is standing, and, more important, I can see directly in front of me at the spot in the road where I plan to open a door . . . Or make an opening . . . Create an ostium . . . For the soldiers to go through. I know, I know. Where the hell is all this coming from? I’ve never ever done anything like this before. I know. Like I said, it all just came to me. Back on Roanoke with Dave. And how did it all just come to me? Or more importantly: why? I’m not sure exactly, but I believe it has everything to do with what happened once the blackness enveloped me and I fell and went through that whole crazy experience. I came out the other side changed. Confident is a word I’d use. Confident about why I was in Ostium and what I need to do now. I still don’t have all the details, not by a long shot. And you know: I don’t think I ever will. But I feel I know now what needs to be done. To start putting things right in Ostium. To stop whatever badness, whatever destruction and decay, whatever evil and death has been happening. Hearing Dave’s story and what he’s seen is a part of that. An important part. It’s like it’s given me the last few pieces of a puzzle I’m putting together and while it’s pretty much all complete now, I still can’t quite work out what the picture is, but I have a good idea of what it might be . . . Or what it’s trying to be.

Basically I’m juggling a ton of balls in the air right now and while before I accepted that many of them were going to be dropped and picked up again, now I’m confident I’m not going to drop any, no matter how many there are.

It’s just a feeling I have.

And I feel great. Fantastic, in fact.

And . . . And I’m out of time.

The cavalry’s arrived.

[Break]

Dave carries out his role like an Academy Award winning actor. He sees the men first, before they see him, and as I’m watching him, I can tell this. His body stiffening; straighting; standing to attention, then a bending of the knees in preparation to run. I look behind him and can just barely see the tunnel and there are all the men, looking lost and confused. They try to go back into the tunnel; back through the door they just came from, but it’s gone. Closed. They’re trapped here.

For now.

They come out of the tunnel, then one spots Dave, pointing at him. The rest all see him and then Dave is running like . . . Well like there’s a bunch of armed soldiers coming at him. He puts some distance between him and them, but nothing a bullet couldn’t annihilate in less than a second and bury itself in his body. He asked me about this as I explained the plan to him and got him in position.

Dave: How do you know they’re not going to fill me up with bullets as soon as they see me?

It wasn’t easy to explain, because I didn’t really have an explanation other than I just know; it’s a feeling, an intuition, a confidence I have in myself and in him, and in those soldiers that they will not open fire. He wasn’t happy with this; not by any means, but we were already in the thick of it, as he might like to say, and getting out of it wasn’t an option.

And I’m right. No guns are raised. But they’re all charging after him. What they’ll do if they actually catch him I don’t have a clue, but it probably won’t be good. Fortunately, Dave is a good runner, which might have something to do with what’s coming up the rear, and he’s able to maintain his distance. It doesn’t take long before he’s close to where I am; where there are more trees; where it’s darker and there’s coverage. He reaches his marked spot and then dives into the bushes on the other side of the road to me.

Now I switch my focus to the men. Dave’s part has been played out, perfectly I might add. Lawrence Olivier would be jealous! They’re coming fast . . . But they haven’t seen where Dave went. The cover of trees and darkness worked like charm. They’re slowing down, but still jogging, confused once again.

Just like I want them.

I turn to the space in the road where it is darkest. Then I imagine: I create a world in my mind that is on the other side of this hole; this fissure; this rip in time and space, but their world is vague and nebulous to me; unclear and dreamy, like I’m wearing glasses that are the wrong magnification; I can see shapes and forms on the other side; hints of colors; but I can see nothing concrete or detailed. It could be anything and anywhere, just how I want it. I imbue it with as much reality and life as I can, as if I’m pouring my energy and essence into it, birthing it into existence. I can feel my own strength and constitution weakening. This isn’t something I can keep up indefinitely, just as I thought. But I can maintain it for long enough.

The soldiers keep moving, stepping beneath the trees and into the darkness: one by one they pass through the ostium and into their world from where they came from. I don’t know it, not by any means. Monica never told me. I never had any details. But I am confident that what I’ve created is as close to the world they’re from as can be, making it therefore the same exact world they left when they first came into Ostium.

As the last man passes through, I release the opening, and the ostium closes up like the reverse of a ripple on water, until there’s nothing there.

Then I collapse to the ground, unconscious and wiped.

[Break]

I’m not out for long, as I’m told by a very pale and terrified-looking Dave. The guy was shitting bricks . . . But not literally. He thought I’d died of a heart attack or exhaustion or something. When my consciousness returned to me and my eyes fluttered open, he started crying tears of joy. I took it as a compliment.

Jake: “How long was I out?”

 Dave: “Not long mate, a minute or two. Thank bloody god your alive!”

I stand up, assessing how I’m feeling: a little dizzy but okay for the most part. Although I’m really tired. It’s to be expected after the amount of energy I used up opening that ostium.

Jake: “We need to move. Now! Follow me.”

Dave doesn’t question, but is right behind me as I start running straight for the house. I know I don’t have the liberty of as much time as I’d like anymore. I can feel it. A tension in the air. I almost think I hear a static crackling.

[Said in a strong whisper] She’s coming . . . Very soon.

I get to the door of the house, throw it open, and once Dave’s inside, I slam it closed, and start running up the stairs. Dave is being my loyal Igor, following a literal step behind, not asking a question. Good. I don’t have the fucking time.

Upstairs I open the door to the first room and am happy to see a window. I don’t remember if the beach house of bloody bodies had a window in this room, but at this point I don’t give a shit. As I come close to the window, I turn to Dave and, with palms out, I make a stopping gesture, telling him to stay exactly where he is. He understands instantly and halts. Then I put a single finger to my lips. He nods in comprehension. I nod back, then step to the window.

Keeping to the bottom right corner, I slowly peek over the edge until I have one eye looking through the glass. It’s still nighttime out there, but the moon is also shining, soaking the world in a silvery light.

It’s enough.

There’s an electric crackle in the darkness of the tunnel and like a witnessed bolt of lightning I get a singed evil image on my retinas.

1.21 gigawatts of badness.

It’s her. I recognize the woman instantly; if that thing can be called such. Creature is a better word. She’s just like Dave described. The cloak and hood covering and hiding her shriveled form.

I don’t know what she is. I don’t know whence she came. I don’t know how she came to be. All I know is that she is behind it all.

She is . . . The blackness.

This is something I intrinsically know; I feel it in my very bones. If I wasn’t an atheist, I’d say I have complete and utter faith that she is the root of all that is wrong in Ostium. Because I know it to be true. Like the laws of gravity and thermodynamics. And the known fact that I am tied to Ostium and it is tied to me.

Perhaps she is the ying to my yang. The balance. I am trying to do good and help in Ostium; she is the antithesis of this. I know nature and reality like balance like this – matter and antimatter – but in this case I fucking hate it. And I also don’t believe it. Evil doesn’t need to exist because of balance. Nature is red in tooth and claw, and cruelty is always alive and well, but does not exist to justify the goodness and kindness of the world. Whatever some religious zealots might tell you.

No. However this creature came into being, either some other thing or some other someone brought her here or put her in Ostium; or she made herself part of all this. Just as there was nothing natural and logical about my discovering and coming to Ostium; there is nothing right about her being here.

She is moving now, walking to the . . . No, floating towards the house. I can’t see any shoes or feet beneath the cloak. The material just ends a little above the ground, and below that is nothing but air . . . Or something else. She is drifting toward us, while her hood scans from side to side, then does an impossible three hundred and sixty degree turn, like a lighthouse overlooking the Styx. I have to pull back, wanting to get that incredible fucked up image out of my mind . . . Not that I ever can.

She is coming closer now and we begin to hear her . . .

The look on Dave’s face is how I feel inside, and probably quite similar to the look I’m wearing on my face too.

I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one, but dying of fright is starting to seem like not just a viable, but possibly preferable option.

Her voice is that of nightmares and discomfort and pain . . .

Iron filings dragging across a never-ending blackboard . . .

A pit of writhing insects that just sucks one in deeper . . .

One’s imaginings of the unbelievable pain of being burned alive . . .

All of this in a croaky, phlegmy, whispery sound that can’t possibly be created by human vocal cords.

The words are drawn out, long and sinuous . . . Verbal serpents searching for listening victims . . .

Woman: Where . . . Are . . . They . . .

I try to stop myself shivering and can’t. Losing my balance, I roll to the floor, bringing my knees up to my chin, feeling goosebumps over my entire body.

Woman: I . . . Made . . . Her . . . Bring . . . Them . . . Here . . . . . . I . . . Saw . . . Her . . . Do . . . It . . . . . . I . . . Saw . . . Her . . . Send . . . Them . . . Through . . . . . . . They . . . Should . . . Be . . . HERE!

That last word brings Dave to the ground, his teeth chattering.

I don’t know how much of this I can take.

I force myself to let go of my knees and cover my eyes with my palms. Dave gets the idea and does the same. We hope it’ll help to block out these horrible sounds.

It doesn’t.

Woman: I . . . Wanted . . . To . . . Have . . . Fun . . . . . . Where . . . Are . . . THEY?

I force myself to stand. She’s getting closer. Can’t be too far away from the house now. Then she’ll make her way upstairs, and find us: quivering puddles of helpless that she’ll enjoy separating piece by piece. I don’t need to remember what she did to those men the first time . . . Those men that I’ve now managed to save. At least that’s something. Something she can’t take away from me. Something that can’t be changed.

Leaning against the wall, I drag myself over to Dave, then reach down and pull him to his feet. His cheeks are wet with tears, his eyes red-rimmed. Our arms support each other and we shuffle towards the doorway. When we reach it I force him to move along the hallway towards the final room. It feels excruciatingly slow and I know she’s just coming closer and closer.

[Exasperated:] We need to get the fuck out of here!

I have an idea forming and I seize it in my mind, grasping and clasping on to it like a life-ring, pulling myself up; keeping us afloat.

We make it to that last door and enter the room, closing the door behind us, not that it will be any hindrance to her when she reaches it.

Woman: After . . . My . . . Fun . . . I . . . Was . . . Going . . . To . . . Make . . . Him . . . Play . . . With . . . Them . . . . . . Kill . . . Them . . . One . . . By . . . One . . . . . . Those . . . I . . . Left . . . For . . . Him . . .

I’ve got us to the back of the room and we’re on the ground again; on our knees. Dave is holding himself in a ball. He’s repeating something over and over . . .

“I . . . I think she’s talking about me . . . I . . . I think she’s talking about me . . .”

That’s okay for now. I will need him soon, but not yet. Then I close my eyes and try ever so hard to focus. To push away the fear and darkness. To work on crafting another ostium. This one completely different from the last. I’m exhausted. Tired beyond all means. But I know if I don’t do this we’re . . . We’re going to discover many things worse than death.

The ostium begins to take shape in my mind, and accordingly a pinprick of a hole opens up in this reality leading to the world I’m trying to get us to. Like it was with the soldiers, this is also a fuzzy, blurry, unclear place. If we make it through in time and survive, the details will solidify and become clear.

If.

But the more I work at it, the easier things become; the faster things move , and I watch the door growing before . . .

Woman: Who . . . Has . . . Meddled . . . . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . I . . . Can . . . Sense . . . You . . . . . . Where . . . Are . . . You . . . Little . . . Helpless . . . Child . . . Where . . . Ahhhhhh . . . Yes . . . . . . Now . . . I . . . See . . . You . . . . . . Now . . . I . . . Feel . . . You . . . . . . Do . . . Not . . . Fret . . . . . . I . . . Am . . . Coming . . . For . . . Youuuuu . . .

That last word slams into me like a phantasmagorical punch. I almost lose control completely. The ostium would’ve disappeared like the closing wink of an eye . . . But I was able to hold on, by the very tips of my mental fingers.

[Soft, but scared] Not long to go now . . . [utter terror] Oh shit. She’s at the top of the stairs.

The ostium is big enough now for us to move through. I’ll keep making it bigger to aid us. But we need to move. NOW!

I grab Dave’s arm and pull him up to me. He leans against me. More slumps. I slap his face and he regains a little composure. Enough to hold his own sort of. Keep himself kneeling. I can’t support both of us. I start crawling towards the door, pulling Dave along. He is aware enough to understand what I’m doing and helps himself along.

[Door boom]

She’s here.

She’s got to us.

[Door creaking open]

Woman: There . . . You . . . Are . . . . . . My . . . Pretties . . .

I don’t look back. I know if I do, it’ll all be over. She’ll win.

We’re at the threshold.

[Roaring/screaming sound begins, increasing in volume]

I wrap my arms around Dave and he does the same for me.

We fall into the hole, and as we do so, I finally look back.

She is there. Her hood is pulled back. A pale skull. Oily tendrils of scant hair. Dark pits for eyes. Two even rows of teeth, each one tapered to a fine point.

[Woman, whispering:] All the better to chew you with, my dear . . . I’ll see you soooooooon . . .

And then I’m screaming and falling . . .

[Break]

I regain consciousness after passing out yet again. Only this time I’m experiencing a whole new level of weariness. My limbs feel like dead weights. My body feels numb. I wait and sensation slowly creeps back into them.

Then I remember those last few moments.

I remember her.

I look back but the ostium is long-ago closed. Dave is by my side, still out. But he’s breathing. I can see his chest rising nad falling. There is no sign of the woman or the world we just left.

I can’t help letting out a huge sigh of relief.

[Sighing sound]

[Letting out breath sound]

Then I notice I’m breathing in something new . . . Something different. Salty air. No . . . Briny air. We’re near the ocean, somewhere. No. Better. We’re right on the ocean. I can see it just twenty or thirty feet away. Small waves lapping against the shore. Not much of a beach though.

I can see a short dock. Looks sturdy and new. There’s a boat tied to it. A really flashing looking motor yacht. Wow. When’s the last time I saw one of those? Er . . . More like . . . Never.

The smells and the sights are restoring my energy, and I slowly pull myself to my feet. I can hear Dave coming around now too. Good. Was starting to worry a little. He was farther gone than I was; passing through could’ve put him over the edge. But he’s a fellow Ostium-traveler. He’s made of strong stuff. Just like Monica and I.

I turn around to learn more about where I am and then I see it and my mouth just drops open.

It was behind me the whole time and I had no idea.

I’m staring at something I’ve seen a number of times on images before, but never in real life.

Though I’ve always wanted to visit.

Because it was on the other side of the world from me.

As I stare at the Rock of Gibraltar, a smile forms on my lips.

Well, there’s one item off my bucket list.

Dave: I said . . . Who the fuck . . . Are you then?

[Silence]

Dave: Oy! I’m fucking talking to you, mate!

[Silence]

[Dave taking in a breath to talk again, but Jake speaks before he does]

Jake [in HAL9000 voice]: Hello Dave.

[Silence]

Jake [still in voice, punch out last word]: How are you doing . . . Dave?

[Silence]

Dave: Is . . . Is that you? Oh my god. Jake? Is it really you?

Jake: Yep. In the flesh.

Dave: Holy bloody fucking shit. I can’t believe it’s really . . .

[Sounds of embracing]

Dave: How the fuck have you been?

Jake: Ahh, well, I guess I’d say I’ve been better. A lot better.

Dave: No fucking kidding. How the bloody hell did you end up here? In bloody Roanoke of all places?

Jake: I . . . Er . . . I don’t really know. Honestly. A lot of crazy shit has happened in the last twenty-four hours . . . Or years.

Dave: What?

Jake: It’s . . . It’s a long story.

Dave: I know what you mean, mate. My last day and a bit have been very much not kosher. I . . . I don’t really know what the fuck’s been happening to me, exactly, but it’s been bloody awful. And it’s also a long story.

Jake: Did . . . Did the blackness get you . . . Too?

Dave: Oh . . . Oh God. Yes. And then . . . And then some very fucking strange things started happening to me. It was like . . . It was like having a really messed up dream on ecstasy. At least . . . That’s what I imagine it would be like. If I ever did something like that.

Jake: Right. I hear ya.

Dave: But there was plenty of weird shit before the whole showdown between you and Monica, and the blackness getting us.

Jake: You were there?

Dave: Bloody right I was. Standing behind all of you watching the show. It was very fucking mental seeing you standing there, and another you on Monica’s shoulder. But as I already mentioned, it felt like my mind wasn’t doing what it was supposed to at that point, so I wasn’t sure what I was actually seeing or what I thought I was seeing with my very own eyes.

Jake: Did . .  Did you want to talk about it?

Dave: You know, I’ve never really considered myself the chatty type, but in this case I’d love to have a right old chinwag about it all.

Jake: Did you say . . . A . . . chin . . . Wag?

Dave: Yeth.

Jake: Okay then . . .

Dave: Look, if you need me to translate anything into American for you, don’t be afraid to ask, alright?

Jake [laughter in your voice]: Okay, sounds good Dave. And if you have problems understanding my [bad southern accent:] “Yankee slang,” you be sure to let me know, okay?

Dave: Deal. So how about a cuppa then?

Jake: A cuppa . . . Oh wait. I know that one! A cup of tea?

Dave: Correct, my son. One hundred pounds to Mr. Jake Fisher please.

Jake: Do they have tea here? In Roanoke? In this house?

Dave: I . . . I haven’t a bloody clue. But there’s only one way to find out, right?

[Break]

Dave: I suppose it tastes like tea.

Jake: Are you sure it is tea?

Dave: I not perfectly sure what it is actually. It tastes a little bit like tea. And a little bit like dirt. And some ungodly mixture of herbs and spices. Not bad though.

Jake: These clay mugs are interesting too.

Dave: Not up to your sixteenth century Starbucks quality?

Jake: Oh no, this is some fine craftsmanship. I’m gonna see if I can bring this gray, badly-crafted drinking vessel back with me to Ostium.

Dave: If we ever make it back . . .

Jake: Right. So there’s our cue to start talking about the hell happened to us in the last twenty-four hours. Before we start getting too down in the dumps.

Dave: Wait a second, mate. I need to ask you something first: did you light this lamp here on the table in front of us?

Jake: Er . . . No. I didn’t.

Dave: I don’t suppose you lit the fire outside either then?

Jake: That’s . . . Another negative.

Dave: Alright then, we’re just going to move right along and forget about those two scary details . . . Would you like to begin your harrowing tale or should I go first?

Jake: Why don’t you do the honors.

Dave: Beauty before age then . . .

Jake: What?

Dave: Nothing. So you received that last email I sent you, right?

Jake: Yeah, the one where you said you were in a different Ostium?

Dave: Right. Exactly. And I did get a chance to hear your recording with the email you said you sent me. By the way, I never actually received that email. Just got to hear it through your Ostium recording. I suppose that means my Ostium was already as rotten as last night’s fish and chips you decided to pull out of the bin.

Jake: Er . . . Okay. Sure.

Dave: Anyway, I was already planning on carrying out the very advice you were so generous to impart to me and your listeners. Well, at least to some extent. I decided I was going to take a gander behind the door with the big number two on it.

Jake: But wait . . . That would lead you to here. Roanoke. Is that how you you got here?

[Short pause]

Dave: Yes, Jake. My harrowing tale of suffering and angst is me deciding to go through door number two and arriving here just a few minutes ago and telling you to stick em up. What a story, eh?

[Short pause]

Jake: Sorry. Dave. Please continue with your story.

Dave: Cheers . . . But wait wait. Hold on a bloody second, mate. What about the blackness?

Jake [confused:]: What about the blackness?

Dave: You know? That impending darkness that likes to swallow us up and do terrible things to us? Aren’t we at risk of its inevitable arrival at any moment?

Jake: Huh? Oh, no. No. I’ve got it under control.

Dave: What exactly does that mean?

Jake: Well, I’ve been able to hold the blackness back for some time now . . .

Dave: Yes, I know. You said so in the recordings. But that was only for a certain amount of time. Eventually it arrived without fail . . . Every. Single. Time.

Jake: Well, something’s changed since I’ve come through . . . All this.

Dave: All what?

Jake [having trouble saying it:]: Being . . . Consumed by the darkness. Having it take over me and what’s it’s done to me, and coming out the other side alive. I can . . . control it better now.

Dave [shock]: Really?

Jake: Yeah. I just feel . . . Way stronger now. When I recognized where I was I just immediately engaged it.

Dave: Engaged it? Like Captain Picard?

Jake: [laughing] Exactly. And I can feel it’s like almost gone now. Just the barest blip on the horizon. Far, far away. And it’s not coming closer any time soon. So: you don’t need to worry about it all.

Dave: Wow. Just wow. That’s fucking incredible. I can’t wait to hear what your trip down the rabbit hole was like.

Jake: Heh, yeah, it was a trip alright. But let’s continue with you story.

Dave: Right. So I got me some food together. I even tried one of your “oh so wonderful” peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sorry, mate. It was bloody awful. I couldn’t stand it. So I just made meself some jam sandwiches instead.

Jake: For the record: that statement is anathema, and if I was a cardinal or archbishop, or the fucking pope, you’d be excommunicated.

Dave: Right. Understood. Skipping along then. With some nosh, I made my merry way through door number two and found myself in the desert. Well, it wasn’t actually the desert, just bloody hot. Far away I could see this rock wall with human made formations. They looked like rows on the side of the formation with these tree trunks that looked like ladders . . .

Jake: Yes. Yes! You were in the land of the ancient ones, or Anasazi.

Dave: Okay. Yeah. I think I remember hearing about that in one of your recordings.

Jake: Yep, you certainly did.

Dave: Sure. And then I saw two people very high up on the top level I think, or maybe one below. I thought they were you two . . .

Jake [excited]: Yes, it was us. We were heading into a cave to try to find a way out.

Dave: I saw that. You two disappeared. I thought about climbing up there and trying to find out if it was you two, but I didn’t really want to take the risk. It was precarious, and I’ll be honest: I was scared shitless at the thought of it. So I decided I wasn’t going to go that way, and that’s when – completely out of the blue it seemed – there was this door near to me. I swear it hadn’t been there before, but then it was just there.

Jake: Appearing like magic?

Dave: Yeah. I don’t know. It was bloody weird. But it was a way out, and I hoped it would take me back to Ostium. Hopefully your Ostium.

Jake: Because that was your plan. To find us.

Dave: Exactly. Of course. What else could I bloody do?

Jake: Indeed.

Dave: So I stepped through and I was back in Ostium. In your Ostium, as I found out. After looking through all your very personal things, you know, like your underpants . . .

[Dead silence]

Dave: Nah, only kidding mate. Might’ve been a little childish there. You could’ve at least laughed. Nothing? Okay then, suit yourself. Anyway, I was able to recognize it was your Ostium with all your stuff. When you do your recordings Jake, you’re very thorough with the details. No stone left unturned. Know what I mean?

Jake: I sure do. I like to think it’s one of the parameters that leads to so many consistent downloads per episode.

Dave: Well, look who’s getting a bit cocky. Guess it’s time to burst your big ego bubble then. That X-Files reference you made in that mini episode on your little joyride back to Ostium. You talked about Scully in that boat and all that stuff about the fraying rope?

Jake: Oh yeah, I remember that. It’s what happened in the episode. I was having a moment. What’s wrong with that?

Dave: Nothing mate. Except the part where you said it was from the episode Memento Mori, during the fourth series.

Jake: Series?

Dave: Okay, fine. Season four. Well, it wasn’t bloody Memento Mori.

Jake [uncertain]: It wasn’t?

Dave: No mate. The scene you’re referring to, which you did accurately describe, is from Season 2, in the episode One Breath.

Jake: Oh . . . [realization:] Oh, shit!

Dave: Yeah. So, you might want to hold back on leading your ego parade down Buckingham Palace road.

Jake: Can . . . Can we get back to your story now?

Dave [cocky:] In a minute . . . . . . Okay, now we can. Where was I? Oh yeah, I knew it was your pad, your Ostium, because you had all your stuff there, like you described in earlier recordings. So I had something to eat, I think, and then had to have a wee. Right after that was when I started feeling strange. I was washing my hands, as any gentleman does after using the facilities, and started to feel wonky . . .

Jake [utter confusion and suspicion he’s being played a fool:] Wonky?

Dave: Yeah, wonky. It’s a word. Go bloody check a dictionary. Something was wrong. I wasn’t feeling right. Started having a bit of headache. Was feeling dizzy. Things were starting to get blurry, everything was sort of shaking. This was the first time I had this feeling of not really being in control of my body. It was like a dream sort of . . .

Jake: Describe it to me.

Dave: Well, it was like I was in my body and not in it at the same time. No, that’s not right. I was definitely in my body, but not fully in control of it. Almost like . . . Like wearing a space suit, only someone else is controlling what you’re doing in the space suit.

Jake: Okay, got it. [Cheeky] That’s quite poetic actually.

Dave: Oh fuck off! I don’t know who or what was making me do this, but the important lesson to understand from this is that I couldn’t really help it. It was beyond my control. And that’s when I opened the hidden panel in the wall behind the sink . . .

Jake: What?

Dave: Yeah. Bloody shocking, I know. Apparently there’s a hidden panel low down to the floor behind the sink. One of the wall tiles. Though you have to do it exactly right, you know. Can’t draw any shape on it . . .

Jake [utter confusion:] Any shape?

Dave: Right. I got it wrong the first time. Bloody thing zapped with a million volts and shot me across the room like a cork from a champagne bottle.

Jake: A million volts?

Dave: Well, probably not that many, since I’d’ve been six feet under if that were the case. But it was a right old wallop. Bloody hurt too. And then that new voice in my head – you know, the one I didn’t give any permission whatsoever to come in and control me – suppose that definitely means it’s not a vampire then – told me to draw an O which I did and out popped the wall tile, like it was a perfectly natural thing. Behind it was a space with a gun in it.

Jake: A gun? What kind of gun?

Dave: A gun like I’d never seen before. A gun that looked like this . . .

[Short pause]

Jake: It looks . . . Futuristic.

Dave: Like something out of Star Trek?

Jake [Pissed off:] Fuck no. Those were phasers. Not gun shaped at all.

Dave: Good. I was just checking. More Star Wars then.

Jake [considering:] Hmmm, yeah, I’ll allow it.

Dave: Why, fank you kind sir. And that was when I heard the bloke at the door. It was one of them soldiers. Came out of nowhere, knocking on the door.

Jake [hesitant:] Did you answer it?

Dave: No I didn’t bloody answer it. I was fucking terrified. But I remembered what had happened the first time them soldiers had showed up and you two just waited for them to leave. So I did the same thing. Waited for him to go away and then I stupidly followed him.

Jake [confusion:] Why?

Dave: You know? I’ve asked myself that question a lot of times. If I hadn’t, things would’ve probably happened very differently to what they did. I think it was because I was wanted to know where he came from, or where he was going? I worried about you two suddenly showing up and how dangerous he might me.

Jake [understanding:] Thanks Dave, I appreciate that.

Dave: Don’t thank me too soon. Once he was far enough away, I left the clock tower, tip-toeing quietly behind him. He didn’t really seem to know where he was going. That was when I started feeling really shitty. I suddenly had a bloody terrible headache. I felt really dizzy. Couldn’t see that well. I think I fell on the ground. Not sure. And from then on things are really spotty. I can barely remember anything. Just little bits here and there. But I know I didn’t give the bloke much of a chance to defend himself. Can’t remember if I talked to him, or even said anything to him. I know I shot him with the gun. And that it killed him. I know I threw him over my shoulder and went through a door. And put him in a seat of the front row of a cinema.

Jake [dawning horror:] The Casino Building. Avalon. Catalina. The body we found . . .

Dave: Yeah. He wasn’t the only one.

Jake [continuing shock:] Private Tanaka? On the spaceship?

Dave: Yeah. Sounds right. As much as I hate to admit it. Talk about a fucking dark period in your life. I thought I had enough horrible shit in my life to last . . . Well, to last a lifetime, but apparently I wasn’t done. Not even close. I had some people I needed to kill first.

Jake: I’m . . . Sorry, Dave. I know it’s not really any consolation, but these people . . . These soldiers Monica sent through the door were kinda doomed anyway.

[Short pause]

Dave: No. Doesn’t really help. There was that guy in the snowy place. Bloody freezing it was there.

Jake: Anjikuni.

Dave: What?

Jake: Anjikuni. That’s what it’s called. Where you were. We were there too. We found that body . . . Too.

Dave: Bloody great. I think there was also a bloke on  . . . Er . . . What’s it called . . . Easter Island.

Jake: Really?

Dave: Yeah, pretty sure it was there. I remember the big stone statues. Before I found him.

Jake: I never saw a body there. Not that that means anything. What about the beach house?

Dave: What beach house?

Jake: It was a beach house in Fort Bragg I stayed at . . . From my past. I did a recording about it.

Dave: Sorry. Not ringing any bells. Must’ve been after I lost full internet access.

Jake: Before it became “wonky”?

Dave: Now you’re getting it! So what happened at this beach house?

Jake: We found bodies inside. Lots of them. They’d been horrifically slaughtered. Decapitated. Disemboweled. Torn to pieces. It was . . . It was fucking terrible. Something I just never want to see again. Like something out of a Saw movie . . . Only very fucking real.

Dave [shocked:] No . . . No. I never went to any sort of beach house. And I never saw anything . . . Like that . . . Let alone . . . Uggh. It’s only ever been the gun. One clean shot, and it’s all over. And that’s it.

Jake: Okay, Dave. I believe you, man. And that’s some very important information you’ve given me. Thank you.

Dave: Your . . . Welcome. I think. And that’s about it for me. Last thing I remember, I was on that space station or spaceship, whatever the fuck it was, and looking around. And that’s when I found you and Monica. And that’s when the blackness took us . . .

Jake: Do you remember what happened after that?

Dave: Yes. Better actually. Than the earlier stuff. I remember everything feeling incredibly dark and bleak and cold. And it was all pushing down on me; crushing me to a pulp. To a little speck of nothingness. And then it let go. Just went away. I was in a dark place with strange lights. It made me think of the Lord of the Rings films, when Frodo puts the ring on and sees the weird smoky world with the soft lights and the bloody terrifying Nazgul.

Jake: Ash Nazg Thrakatuluk, Agh Burzum Ishi Krimpatul. One ring to bring them all, and into the darkness bind them.

Dave: Okay . . . That’s  . . . Fucking scary that is. I’ve met some serious bloody nerds in my life, but you . . . You outright scare me. Please don’t say that again.

Jake [sheepish]: Sorry. Was just trying to lighten the mood.

Dave: It didn’t help. So I was in this scary place and it took me a bit to realize it was Ostium. Only different. Very fucking different. Through this weird filter. But I sort of accepted it. Dealt with it the best I could, and started walking around. In a little bit I heard a sound. Someone else walking. Or maybe something? I followed it; tried to find it. Eventually I did. It was a hunched over figure slowly walking away. I think it was female, from the shape of the body. But I can’t be sure. It looked a bit like the witch in Snow White. The crone. From behind. Her . . . Or it eventually heard me and stopped and slowly turned around. It seemed to be looking at me. Then it started to pull back its hood to reveal its face. I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to see. I legged it. Fucking ran as fast as I could until I found a door that let me out . . .

[Short pause]

Dave: It took me to here. Roanoke. And that’s when I found you.

[Short pause]

Jake: That’s . . . Interesting . . . Very interesting . . .

Dave: That’s it? That’s all you have to say?

Jake [seemingly indifferent:] Yes. It . . . It makes me wonder . . .

Dave: What? . . . What! What the fuck are you on about? Could you talk some fucking sense for just a second please? That was heart-wrenching. Telling you all that. And all you can say it that’s it’s bloody interesting?

Jake [snapping out of it, sincerely:] I’m really sorry, Dave. I was . . . Thinking. You’re story has had a profound effect on me. And I’m thinking about a lot of stuff right now. Stuff I’m still unpacking. Pieces I’m putting together . . .

Dave: Okay then. That’s all I needed. So what’s your side of the story then?

[Short silence]

Jake: Let me think a little about how to put it together so I can tell it to you so it makes at least a little bit of sense . . .

[Break]

Jake: It’s hard to put into words, just what happened to me. The fact that you remember as much as you did is . . . Impressive. I feel like the experiences I’ve had in the last . . . Hour? Day? Eon? Are all just little shreds of paper with words and pictures in them and they’ve been dumped on the floor in this big messy pile of confusion . . .

Dave: Cheers. That image alone is making my head hurt. More tea?

Jake: I’m okay for now, thanks. It wasn’t crushing me, like it was for you. I fell. Forever it felt like. And it was incredibly cold and black. I think I was falling through the blackness, but not the blackness we’ found on the other side of the Ostium doors. The blackness on the other side of the gate in the untethered Ostium. I’m pretty sure it’s all the same blackness, but I wasn’t on anything solid, just continuously falling. And then I landed . . . And survived. Somehow. I was in a dark room, but it didn’t take me too long to recognize myself. Or at least recognize the door I could see in front of me. It was the door with the infinity symbol on it. The door that took me to the place where I worked and those clones with the terrible news. I never want to go back there, so I knew for sure I wouldn’t be going through that door. Little did I know . . .

[Short pause]

Jake: I remembered when Monica and I had been in that same space before, we’d come through an opening in the ceiling, so that’s where I went. Took a number of tries, but I managed to get through it and out into the blackness all around. I stood on the roof of that room and looked around me, and it was like standing on top of Everest and being able to see all around you, except everything was black. And then I watched something truly unique. Some sort of battle. Between a bluish light and the blackness. I don’t exactly know what was going on but there was definitely something . . .

Dave: How could you tell, exactly?

Jake: I don’t really know . . . It was a sense I got. The . . . Vehemence with which the two colors came at each other, that’s what it made me think of. Things started getting pretty crazy and bright. I knew it was starting to get dangerous and I dropped back into the room, having no real alternative.

Dave: Right . . . You couldn’t exactly jump of the edge, could you?

Jake: I did think about it. For a half second. I could’ve done exactly that and taken my chances. Maybe I would’ve landed on something else. Or maybe I would’ve fallen forever. Or maybe that great light show in the sky would’ve got me and just made me not be anymore. I just didn’t know. So I went with the sure thing.

Dave: And then you went through that door with the infinity symbol on it.

Jake: You are correct, sir. Even though I’d told myself I wasn’t going to; that I wasn’t going to take the risk of going back to that place. Once again: it was my only option. And there was a chance it would be different this time. Perhaps. It was an uncertainty. An unknown. And the only way to confirm one way or the other was to go through the door. So I did. And arrived here.

Dave: In Roanoke?

Jake: Yes. But not just Roanoke. Exactly in this specific spot. Facing the wall.

Dave: Really? Do . . . Do you know why?

Jake: You know, for once in this crazy place called Ostium, I can say I do.

Dave: Which is?

Jake: Because I knew this is where I needed to be . . . To find you.

Dave: To find me?

Jake: Yes. We needed to meet up. On the other side of the doors of Ostium. Through the blackness. The only way it could work was if I anticipated what was happening to you and cut you off at the pass so to speak.

Dave: Cut me off at the what?

Jake [laughing:] It’s an expression. I had to predict where you’d be and be there before you, so we’d meet.

Dave [disbelief:] And you did? You knew I’d be here, so you made yourself . . . Materialize right here at a specific moment, so I’d find you.

Jake: Correctomundo.

Dave: I . . . I don’t know if I fucking believe you, mate.

Jake [warmth in his voice:] That’s okay, Dave. You don’t need to. What I went through. Going through the blackness. Coming out the other side. By my own hand . . . Or really by my own thought and mind in this case . . . It changed me. It made me understand more about Ostium than I’ve ever known. It made me . . . Comprehend.

Dave: You know . . . It sounds like something a cult leader might say [Jake laughing] but I think I’m with you there. It certainly makes me feel better. So . . . We’ve told our stories and drunk enough tea that I’m going to have to hunt down what the sixteenth century equivalent of a loo is here – and I have a feeling it’s a tree . . . What’s next for us?

[Short pause]

[Jake taking a breath, imbuing the words with importance and power]

Jake: It’s time. Time to take on the blackness once and for all. Time to stop it and get us the fuck out of this place and back to the world we know. The Ostium we know.

Dave [hesitant:] Do . . . Do you know how to do that?

Jake [smiling:] Before. No. I had no clue. Now. I do. We have to go back to that beach house. Where shit took a turn for the very dark.

Dave: Okay . . . And how do we get there exactly?

Jake [beaming:] Oh don’t worry. I know exactly how to get us there.

[Jake, struggling, said slowly] . . . Break on through . . .

[Poet’s quoting voice] . . . And what rough beast . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . Energy cannot be created or destroyed . . .

[Scared] . . . To the man behind the curtain . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . There are more than the known three dimensions . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . M-theory says there are eleven . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . Is there a multiverse . . .

[Poet’s quoting voice] . . . Its hour come at last . . .

[Angry, yelling] . . . No . . . No: you’re just not thinking fourth dimensionally . . .

[Despair, hopeless] . . . Across billions of light-years . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . For every action . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . It can only be transferred or changed . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . Bosonic theory says twenty-six . . .

[Angry, yelling] . . . Pay no attention . . .

[Scared] . . . Breathe in the air . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . There are at least ten dimensions to the universe . . .

[Poet’s quoting voice] . . . Do you really want to live forever . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . Two massive black holes, colliding together . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . Time is the fourth . . .

[Crazy, loopy sounding] . . . It’s a whole timey-wimey thing . . .

[Scared] . . . Is there a multiverse to the multiverse . . .

[Poet’s quoting voice] . . . The center does not hold . . .

[Despair, hopeless] . . . I know I’ve been mad . . .

[Hopeful] . . . Speak to me . . .

[Angry, yelling] . . . You can’t do that, it would disrupt the space-time continuum . . .

[Crazy, loopy sounding] . . . There’s no way of knowing . . .

[Scared] . . . Sending a wave across the entire universe . . .

[Poet’s quoting voice] . . . Who wants to live forever . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . There is an equal and opposite reaction . . .

[Lecturing professor voice] . . . It’s called a graviton wave . . .

[Despair, hopeless] . . . I’ve been mad for fucking years . . .

[Despair, hopeless] . . . Another one bites the dust . . .

[Scared] . . . Which direction we are going . . .

[Sad] . . . I’ve always been mad . . .

[Jake, struggling, said slowly] . . . To the other side . . .

[BREAK]

I fell . . . Through fire and water . . . Through pain and agony . . . Through darkness and blindness. I fell until there was no more falling that could be had. Not for my sanity anyway. And then I fell more. Spinning like the greatest gymnast of all time, except I knew not when or where I would land. Or if.

It felt like I dipped in and out of reality. I was and was not. I was atomized. Broken and separated into billions of pieces . . . Then reassembled whole once more. A transporter of the mind and the soul. I was on the run. Not wanting to be found. Looking for myself. And losing myself in the nothingness of it all. There was everything. And there was nothing at the same time.

Paradox.

An impossibility and a possibility. Canceling each other out. I was both dead and alive. Living and not. An entity. And a nonentity. The real and the unreal. A ghost of my former self. The birthing of my future being. To be or not to be. It was a question I didn’t have to ask myself, for I was both.

Somehow.

Impossibly.

Somehow.

Did I want to go back? Stay a part of it? Be with others? To continue on, as I had before? Or was it time to end? To complete the cycle . . . The circle of life, and move on. To shuffle off this mortal coil. There wouldn’t be time to be visited by three ghosts. The decision had to be decided now. The choice made. The confirmation confirmed. The certainty certified.

The tangent would be begun. A parallel world. A parallel universe made anew. From nothing. From one wrong or right judgment everything would flow on its own individual, unique path. Never to cross with another. Never to join up with another. Never. Never to return to its inception. Its genesis. It’s point of origin. It’s point of identity. It’s big bang.

Now it’s on its own merry way. Its own timeline . . .

Its own time . . .

Time . . .

Time . . . Traveling through time. Across space and time. But to begin traveling you must make a single step. A first move. A passing . . . Through whatever obstruction may be hindering you.

Such as a door . . .

A door . . . With numbers on it . . .

[Whisper, word drawn out] Ostium . . .

[BREAK]

A moment.

An iota.

An increment.

Time . . .

Is time a straight line? A curve? A circle? Does it fold back on itself? Does it revolve around itself?

Or is it just a human-made construct. A way for us to control our lives, to control what’s going on in our lives. A way to manage what happened yesterday, what’s happening today, and what’s going to happen tomorrow.

If there are no clocks around, does a tree in the woods care what time it falls?

Is that deep enough for you?

I can remember for my fourth birthday my dad got me a watch. A Mickey Mouse watch, in fact. My mom – as I found out later, when I was older – didn’t think I was ready for such an important and expensive item, since I was still basically a toddler. My dad’s defense was the only way I was really going to learn how to tell time was if I had a watch. He’d had one as a kid, so he was going to make sure his kid had one too. Though, I don’t think he was four when he got it.

I’m not gonna lie and say it changed my life right away. It took a year or two. I dunno. That time is pretty hazy for me . . . Even with my photographic memory. Maybe it hadn’t “fully developed” yet, you know . . . if you catch my drift. But I can remember my life changing over that . . . Time . . . Because of time . . . Sorry. I’ll stop that. But it’s really hard not to.

I could probably point out twelve and six o’clock when I was four. But over the next couple years I learned to tell time. Which is great, but the big deal was when I realized that this little thing on my wrist that had a cute picture of Mickey with moving arms could tell me exactly what time of the day it was . . . It made me . . . Comprehend the power it had. For something so small and seemingly insignificant, a toy essentially, to be able to predict the future in some ways.

I know . . . I know. These weren’t the thoughts going through five- and six-year old me, but it’s something over time – there I go again – that I’ve learned to appreciate and understand . . . That this little time-piece eventually had such a significant effect on me.

[BREAK]

I landed. As dense and heavy as a black hole; as light as the space dust surrounding its event horizon. I slammed into the ground like a pile-driver, but I also settled upon the surface like a see-sawing feather gently reaching its final destination. So it both hurt incredibly and not at the same time. Somehow. I don’t know. I was in a place where the rules of physics had been thrown out a metaphorical window along with all the other rules of science.

I was fucking nowhere.

I pulled myself to a sitting-up position. Every inch of me ached in a different way, making me oh so aware of my many different parts and how they all had nerve endings. My eyes were open, but I wasn’t seeing anything. So either I was in a very dark space . . . You know, like say the center of a black hole. Which has got be a blackness unlike anything else in the entire universe, right? Oh, and before you sciencey guys chime in with your theories and supposed “facts,” until you’ve actually been in a fucking black hole yourself, you don’t have a single event horizon to stand on.

Yeah. It was either really fucking dark in here, or . . . Somehow . . . I’d gone blind. Which would be . . . Just fucking dandy.

And then – thank god! – light started filtering into the space I was in. A cold, blue light that seemed to be more sharing the space with the blackness than taking over it and making it not exist anymore. There was definitely some sort of photonic battle going on here. It appeared to be a literal battle between light and darkness. Somehow. I’d never heard of anything like this before. And hey, when it comes to me and Ostium-related events, that’s saying something! But it started me thinking, which was good. It meant along with my eyes, my brain was also still working. Granted, since I was alive, there were obviously many hundreds of bodily processes working together to keep my heart pumping and my blood oxygenated and circulating.

I was thinking about the blackness, vying for possession in this space, this room, as it was now becoming apparent. I could see darker walls containing the combination blackness and Underworld filter shade of blue. But I’d let it take me. Consume me. Fully expecting, and completely confident that I was about to be annihilated. Yes, as in the sense of being broken down to my individual atoms and made “not Jake Fisher” anymore. It was a big deal. A really big fucking deal, actually. I’d willingly given myself up to for dead; sacrificed my life for others. At least one very important other. I hadn’t had a hell of a lot of time to think about it; to consider the ramifications; to weigh the options with a list of pros and cons. In the Jake way I usually like to do, and then (and only then), after a bunch of time had passed, was I ready to make my decision. There wasn’t enough time in this case. Barely any in fact. So it had been a quick, almost-instant, choice. Barely a consideration. And there’d been no hesitation. None whatsoever.

I’m not about to climb on my high horse and say look how fucking righteous I am . . . Even though I literally just did that . . . But I’m just more . . . Surprised at myself, I guess. Death – like it is for many, many people the world over I’m sure – is not something I like to contemplate too often. As an atheist, I’m on the “worm food” side of the divine struggle of whether there’s any life after death. So becoming said worm food is something I just really never want to think about. Except when I really need to, in like a five-second period, when it really doesn’t involve much hesitation at all.

So where the hell am I now then?

The blackness didn’t kill me. Or something stopped the blackness from killing me. Somehow. I know. There’s no real evidence for that second possibility, so we’re going to stick with the first one. For now. And at the moment I’m in a room. But it’s not just any room, is it? Oh no . . . It’s that room. There’s enough blue light now I can see the walls better, and on one of them is a door . . . A door with an infinity symbol on it. Yes. That door. The one that took us to the bottom of the crack that severed Ostium from the world. I said before I never wanted to go back to that place that pretended to be my former work.

I meant it.

I looked up and saw another door, on the ceiling. More of a trapdoor I guess, you could say. There was no writing or symbols on it; no numbers either. Would it even open for me? I didn’t know; but that infinity door wasn’t a fucking option. And I had high hopes this door would somehow take me back to the bedroom in the clock tower. I know. What if I ran into Monica and other me on the other side? I had no idea what time or instance of Ostium it was on that other side. Also, at this point in time, it was the only option I had.

This particular trapdoor – as we’re calling it – had a normal door handle on it. You know. Not the round ones: the angled L-ones. Like any trapdoor. But this particular door handle gave me a fighting chance.

Barely.

I had to time it just right. Or risk falling on my ass and maybe breaking my tail bone, or something worse.

The room was just big enough to get enough of a running jump. I rested my back against the wall, studying the handle, making it my friend, as we would soon be joining hands – so to speak – and hopefully in a loving embrace . . . Somehow. Then I was ready and started running and totally missed the thing. It wasn’t that I didn’t jump high enough, or my aim was off. I just totally fucked it up. Okay take two. Here goes . . . Better, but that time I just gave the handle more a creepy grope.

Third time’s the charm?

Why not?

I sucked in a breath, bent my knees, and then launched myself into motion. I jumped where I wanted to and grabbed that handle like a professional trapeze acrobat catching the swing-thing . . . You know, the ones Donald Duck and various other characters always miss in cartoons and plunge to their fake deaths. The handle turned easily in my hand with my forward motion and then I let go, hearing it opening behind me. I landed, bending my knees so my butt almost touched the ground, then I was standing once again. I turned and stared at the open doorway above me. Through it I could only see darkness. Well, that was to be expected, no? Wasn’t that the calling of every Ostium door? That oh-so-inviting darkness that just makes you want to drop everything you’re doing and dive into all this hopeful doom and gloom.

But I’d made my choice, and was going to stick to it. It required another acrobatic running jump; fortunately, I was getting pretty good at these, especially within the confines of this specific room. Then I was airborne and my hands found the edge and held on for dear life. I didn’t waste time, pulling myself up and through the doorway before I could have any doubts, or my strength could fail me. Once on the outside, I drew my legs up and then reached down and closed the door for good measure. There. How could you get more final than that? The door was closed and that room was sealed off. For good. Hopefully forever.

As soon as I was through the doorway I knew right away I wasn’t back in Ostium, but it was secondary to closing that trapdoor.

I gingerly stood up and looked around. The blackness was all around me, like space without the stars and stardust. I could hear it . . . Hell, I could feel the sound vibrating off my arm hairs. But it didn’t attack. It stayed. Waited. Or perhaps . . . Was held at bay? I guessed I was looking at the blackness that was the same as that which was currently surrounding my untethered Ostium. Is that what’d happened to me? Where I’d been sent? Is that what the blackness did to you? Sent you here and left you falling? I remember falling. For a long time. Felt like eons. But then this room . . . Had saved me . . .

Maybe I shouldn’t have closed that trapdoor after all. Perhaps I should’ve ignored my gut feeling and just gone through that infinity door? I creeped over to the edge of the flat roof of the building I was standing on and peeked over the side, wanting to see the other side of that infinity door, which would prove opening it would’ve led me out into the blackness and let me fall . . . Perhaps forever. I looked down and . . . Fucking saw the other side of the door. Even had the infinity symbol on it. Holy shit! I’d chosen right. The room had made me choose and if I’d gone through this door, seen that blackness, and stepped through, that would’ve been the end of everything . . . Again.

That was when the light show began. Above me. Far, far above. It was a fucking veritable great gig in the sky! It was more of the blue light. Still just as dark and cold now, but er . . . Stronger. More . . . There and apparent, I guess you could say. It was like a space mist or . . . Fogmos if you will . . .

Silence your hateful insults this instant! They burnses . . .

Okay.

Getting back to the galactic light show. Yes, Pink Floyd fans would most definitely be jealous. The blueness was now clearly battling with the blackness, sending jagged lightning-shaped bolts through its adversary, while the blackness tried to envelop, encircle, encapsulate, and various other words beginning with the syllable en-.

Which prompted the question from yours truly: What the fuck?

[BREAK]

I thought I was far enough away. I thought I’d be safe . . . I was wrong.

It was a classic rookie in scifi space move. I felt there was enough distance and could enjoy the crazy light-show happening before me, but the battle for blue light and darkness became more violent, more animated, even if it was completely silence. As things speeded up they got big, expanding like what I imagine a star going supernova does, taking over more and more space. Just like when our sun runs out of fuel one day, billions of years from now, and is going to expand way out to consume Mercury, Venus, and I’m not sure if Earth will be eaten up like a little ball consumed by Pacman, or if our surface will simply be burned to a blackened crisp.

It just didn’t click for me at first.

In my defense, it’s been a really long fucking day, or week, or eon. Whatever it’s been, it’s been really long, and I’m – in the word of a certain British acquaintance of mine who may be as big of a fan of Ostium as I am – knackered.

Eventually, it sunk in what was going on and that I was in mortal danger. Sure, I’d somehow survived a run-in with the blackness once already, but I wasn’t about to test my luck. Not with these two deified behemoths of gas and light and color battling it out. This felt like Greek god level stuff and I was but a mere mortal. But where the fuck could I go? What options did I have?

I could jump off the side, try my luck, and probably fall forever until I died of hunger, thirst, or old age; though I’d probably die of shear terror first.

Or there was the door . . .

You know. The one I closed earlier, like . . . Five minutes ago, tops. The one I’d intentionally closed because I wanted to be done with that room and the infinity door, and now may well have condemned myself to death via being caught in the cross-fire of the god of blue fire and the god of black doom.

Like always: there was only one way to find out.

I grasped the handle on the outside and turned. The door opened and fell inward. I’d been hoping for this and let it pull me down and into the room, preparing myself for a hard landing and rolling to lessen the blow. It worked. Thanks for the tips on that Monica. Then I leaped up, slammed that trapdoor closed and found myself back to Square One . . .

Or is that Square Two? Wouldn’t Square One be back on that space station when I’d first let the blackness take me? Or – technically – isn’t Square One me playing that game of Geoguessr that completely changed my life. At least it did when I decided to seek out the hidden town called Ostium.

Do I regret this now? The choices and decisions I’ve made that have led me in various directions, taken me to places I’ve never seen, and have guided me to this very point and place right here, right now?

Before I can arrive at a response to this, the battle of light and dark going on outside the room hits the small rectangular space and suddenly I’m spinning. Well, actually, no. The room is spinning, going multiple revolutions a second it feels like. Me? I’m being thrown about like the proverbial bean in the tin can. That is a proverb right? Or a saying? A cliche expression?

Look: don’t give me that do goody good bullshit. I was doing everything I could not to just puke and puke and puke until organs started coming up. This brought my senses to a whole new meaning of “motion sickness.” I wasn’t physically able to do much other than try to avoid breaking numerous bones, which left my mind to try to come up with something.

Don’t fail me now, brain!

But it did . . . I thought.

It came up with another useless saying: “In for a penny . . . In for a pound.”

What the fuck? Money? What the hell has that got to do with it?

I was at my wit’s end at this point, pushed to every limit I felt I could endure. Then I was suddenly flung to the door. No, not the trapdoor. The other door. The one with the infinity symbol on it. Now the saying made a little bit of sense. Get it? Cents? As in money?

I know. I know. Not the fucking time, Jake!

The trapdoor had been my last and only option. And now the infinity door was that thing. Except it led out into the blackness of nothingness, right? And how did I not know I wasn’t going to wind up in the middle of the blue and the black gang war? Because . . . Because it had that infinity symbol it. Which meant a place and a time right? The bottom of the crack? Leading to my former place of work? I dunno. As I said, my brain was scrambled eggs at this point, and this seemed a reasonable enough assumption to me. So did dashing my brains out again the side of the room and ending this all now.

Fortunately, I chose the former, turned the handle and hurtled myself through the door and into the blackness that awaited me on the other side.

[BREAK]

It worked. Not completely as I’d expected, but I was alive. Sort of. If every fiber of my being ached before, now it was moaning in agony. But again . . . Somehow . . . Miraculously . . . Nothing had snapped or broken. [Sarcastic:] Yay!

Now where was I?

It took a while to gain my bearings. Waiting for my head to stop spinning, the motion sickness to calm itself until I knew I wasn’t going to upchuck. After these two levels of supposed calm had been obtained, I slowly opened my eyes.

Fuck.

I was back in my office space. Not outside in the crack as I might’ve hoped. Not in the stairwell leading to my former place of work where Monica and I first shared a kiss. But sitting on the dull beige carpet of the work floor. Not even by a door either. It appeared I’d materialized out of nothingness. Which is, when you get down to it, my favorite mode of travel in Ostium, if I have a choice. Especially when the alternate is being stuck in the blackness of space.

I got up, feeling things sway a little, and then stabilize.

Yep, it was the same place. Same feel. I waited a full two minutes, just to see if there was anyone else here; or listened rather. Part of me was definitely wondering if I was crossing over into the timeline with past me and Monica coming here for the first time. Why not? This shit had happened before.

Except now it was a case of black and blue, right? Moving up and down and I was doing my darnedest to go side to side and get the hell out of the way. Though, honestly, I felt like in the end I was just going round ‘n round.

But what did that have to do with the price of eggs . . .

[Short pause]

Sorry about that. I don’t really know what just happened. Let’s just call it a momentary lapse of reason. Deep breath. Crack your neck once in each direction and loosen them shoulders . . . Great, now everything’s back to normal.

Sort of. The best it can be.

I seemed to be alone. I could’ve walked in the direction opposite to my area of the floor, but I knew that was just going to be a waste of my time. I would just find lots of empty desks and not much else. So I headed toward my cubicle, wishing over and over for one thing in my heart; my deepest desire for this place and . . . It was granted.

The desks were there with the computers, and the monitors still showing those horrible headlines. But the clones were very noticeably absent. I felt myself immediately relax. Dealing with those fucking things again would’ve been just too much. I was a frayed wire and ready to just set the whole fucking world on fire.

Moving on to happier, less destructive thoughts, I headed over to the window. The one where I’d seen a flicker of movement; something in another building . . . And then I was staring at myself. Across the divide. But not just one of me. Tens of me. Hundreds of mes. Possibly thousands of facsimiles looking right back at moi. They weren’t just standing there, staring, like automatons – or those clones. They appeared sentient . . . I moved my arms, offering a playful wave, but not really meaning it all. I was looking for a reaction. It was a test to see if they would copy me exactly. As if I were staring at a thousand mirrors.

No. They didn’t copy me. And then they did . .  Only out of time. Off key. One by one, waving back. But their facial expressions were different. Some smiling. Some laughing. Some indifferent. Some confused. A few even angry for some reason.

I wasn’t staring into a kaleidoscope of reflections. These were all individual mes existing somehow, perhaps on some other plane. Some other existence. Another, separate existence to my own. They were all alternate mes. Still, when you wave at someone you recognize in any sort of way, the other person, pretty much always waves back at you whether they recognize you or not.

It’s the polite thing to do no?

Us and them.

Me and mes.

And then they all started doing something that scared the shit out of me. I started yelling, then screaming at them not to.

One by one, they lowered their waving hands and stepped out of the open windows and dropped out of the building. I leaned to watch them plunge to their deaths – my deaths . . . But I couldn’t see the ground below, it was more of the blackness, swallowing everything up . . . But no. No. It was something new: a combination black and blue. A mixture. A deadly cocktail perhaps? I had no way of knowing. But the other mes apparently knew otherwise. Or at least thought they did. They continued to step out and drop like stones, little concern showing on their faces.

It wasn’t too long before I was the only Jake left. I stared at all the empty windows facing me, where all those mes had been looking right back just moments ago.

And yet again I found myself at an impasse.

What choice did I have?

With shaking legs and trembling arms, I sucked in a breath, stepped up onto the window ledge, closed my eyes, and dropped off the edge.

[BREAK]

I was falling again, only it felt different this time. Like there was hope, somehow? I don’t know. But it sure was fucking colorful. Any color you like. It was like passing in and out of and surfing along a rainbow. My eyes were dazzled, my retinas singed with a spectrum of after images. I tried blinking. Once. Then lots of times. But it didn’t really help. Then I started to see these black blobs, strange dark shapes in the colors. Some came closer and I realized it was all the falling mes. We were all plunging together to . . . Fuck knows where, perhaps all our inevitable deaths. And then one by one they started winking out of existence. Each of them reached their point of destination and ceased to be. At least ceased to be here where I could see them.

And then it was my turn.

[BREAK]

I was there a moment and gone the next, taken to what I could only guess was my inner mind. I was within the chamber of my very own thoughts. There were scenes going on all around me. Memories from my past which I recognized instantly because of what they were. I saw shades and forms of my former self, going this way and that. Like that time when I was with Monica in Columbia and I could see past instances of myself existing there, only there were so many more here. All passing through each other like they were all on completely different planes of existence.

I started to feel like that Pink Floyd song; the one that begins with: “The lunatic is on the grass . . .”

I felt I was that lunatic now. Seeing all this laid out before me. It was beyond overwhelming. I felt myself steadily going mad literally within my own mind.

I closed my eyes; shut them tight, then dug my palms into my sockets, trying to block all this out. To stop any light and therefore thought from entering.

I think I screamed. I know I yelled.

[Maybe practice a few screams and yells, if possible]

[Next four sentences said quieter and quieter with each one]

It was just too much . . .

Too fucking much . . .

Too fucking . . .

Too . . .

[BREAK]

It was gone.

All that I’d touched. All that I’d tasted. Everything I’d seen. All that I loved and hated. All that I tried to save. All that I destroyed. All I distrusted. All that I said.

It was all gone now.

And it was just me. Utterly, irrevocably, so completely alone. It was like I was existing in a vacuum. There was no sense of anything around me. I felt I must be back in the blackness of space with absolutely nothing around me. How was I still alive?

It begged the question: was I still alive? Was this the end? Was I in a purgatory I didn’t believe in? Was this a hell I was doomed to that I always declaimed wasn’t real.

Was this the be all and end all?

I wanted it all to be over.

I wanted it to be done.

Once and for all.

No take backsies.

I could feel myself standing. [Try a Rod Sterling voice with this next sentence, and then just do one in your voice:] And now I would have to open my eyes, confirm where I was, and see where I was to be taken next on this mental roller coaster of the horror of horrors for one Jake Fisher.

I let out a long breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. It tasted stale and bitter; too warm and stuffy. A breath from another world, and likely another time; an impossibility. I drew in a fresh breath. It was crisp and cool. Refreshing and awakening.

I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings: I was in a wooden house. Before me was a wooden wall with a hanging piece of burnished metal. It was meant to be a mirror, a good one, as I could clearly see my reflection in it.

I couldn’t help flinching. What with my recent . . . Experiences. Plus I looked like absolute shit.

Then I saw the man standing behind me, looking right at me.

He was pointing something at me.

“Who the fuck are you then?” he said in a distinctly British accent.

I took in a deep breath, then turned around to face him and my fate.

There’s . . . [clears throat] . . . There’s something very wrong with me. I don’t know what it is. I just . . . I just don’t understand it. I suppose . . . If I really think about it, it all started when I went to the toilet. No. Not like that. Well, actually, yes. I was having a wee. But it was what happened after. That’s when I had that first funny feeling. It came out of nowhere. I’m . . . I’m trying to think what the trigger was. What made me . . . Change so suddenly. And for the life of me, I can’t think of a bloody thing. It actually pisses me off. Quite a bit. And also leaves me . . . Somewhat scared. It came over me like a . . . Like a delicate spiderweb just softly falling down and wrapping itself around me. I was none the wiser and things just changed. It was like . . . Like a force was within me. Someone . . . No, definitely not someone. Something within me. Telling me what to do and feel and think. But in a fraction of a second. There were no thoughts. Or ponderings. It just happened. Go there. Do this. Have a look at this tile. Touch it. No. Not like that. See. Now you’ve been thrown into the opposite wall. I told you that was the wrong way. Yes. Like that. Now take out the secret futuristic gun you’ve never seen in your life before. Yes. You know about it. Well. Not really. I know about it. Whatever I am. And I’m somehow controlling you right now. Whether you want me to or not. And now we’re going to put the tile back in its proper place. Make it look like it was never touched. This way no one will know. And now its time to go on a killing spree. Let’s start murdering people, shall we? Oh no. You don’t get a say in the matter. It’s all out of your hands, so to speak. But very much in your head and . . . Beyond your control. And off we go then in search of our first victim. And who just happens to be looking around Ostium, in search of a way out? An escape. A means of egress? One of them. A helpless young man who has no fucking clue what the hell is going on. A perfect first victim. So let’s follow him and see what he’s up to then? Give you a pretense that you’re in some sort of control of your faculties – but really you’re not. Oh good. There he is. Cornered. And now he’s seen you. Which is going to provoke a reaction. And you’re left with only one option. Shoot the poor helpless retch. Didn’t that feel good? No? It didn’t? Doesn’t bloody matter. You have no control. No say in the matter. Let’s move along then.

And inside I feel like I’m being both torn apart and squashed into an infinitesimal ball of nothingness. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I just . . . I just want to bloody give up.

The killing spree doesn’t end with a single death. Wouldn’t be much of a spree then, would it? I go through door after door, at times wondering if I’ll ever return to Ostium and be free of this controlling curse. Sometimes I am sort of myself, feeling I have some authority over my being and my mind. And yet . . . In the back of my brain there is a sense that I know this is not true; it is not my current reality. I am little more than a toy, a puppet. Whether I am Punch or Judy remains to be seen, but has little bearing on this new existence. Resistance, as one Captain Jean Luc Picard let us know when he had been taken over by the alien race known as the Borg, is futile. So the doors come and go, and so do the men that soon become bodies. Corpses. Stiffs. Victims of the business end of the laser gun I am forced to point at them and fire. I feel a little piece of me die inside with each death. Each murder. Because I know it’s something I can’t take back. No matter how much I might want to. And even if I wasn’t my full and conscious self, it was my hand that held the gun; my arm that held it steady; my finger that pulled the trigger.

That first kill. When it made me drag the body through the door to into the casino building on Catalina and left it in the cinema. In the chair. As a parting gift for Jake and Monica. Even though I wasn’t physically doing it; I wasn’t in control of myself by any means, in that roomy larder at the back of my mind I was aware. I was very bloody aware of what I was doing. Screaming, biting, scratching, spitting . . . Doing fucking anything to get a reaction, to get something of myself back. No effect. Nothing happened. Did fuck all. And I had to just suffer through it. When it – using my body – carefully placed the corpse of Richard Kahling, knowing full well what it was doing for those who would eventually see it. I knew as soon as we came into the cinema. Recognized where I was and then realized what it was making me do. Nothing I could do to stop it. It was beyond terrible. It was agony.

And now I’m standing here, sort of myself. And I have no clue when I’m not going to be me again; when it’s going to extend its talon-like fingers and take over again. But let me get to where I left off first and clue everyone in on what the fuck is exactly going on here. To the best of my ability, that is.

That last time. Going through the spaceship or space station – whatever it was, I still don’t know for certain – I felt more aware and in charge of myself than I’d felt in a long time.

[Break]

The thing that takes over me, as I said before, I have no clue what it is. What it consists of. Whether it has a corporeal form, whether it’s supernatural, or on what plain it possibly exists. It’s beyond my ken in any shape or form. Even after everything I’ve read about and learned through the truly enriching experience that is the Enigmatic Mysteries of the Unknown, and in turn, Ostium. But I’ve been thinking. Trying to wrap my mind around what this thing might be; where it might have come from. What its origin, its genesis is. I know this is something Jake is very good at, and I honestly wish he was here with me now. He must be somewhere, right? If he’s alive, of course. I have no bloody clue. I do know, or at least I think I know that I’m alive. As far as Jake is concerned . . . Well, any proof remains to be seen. However, things look pretty fucking bleak right now in regards to one Jake Fisher. But the thing. The entity. It’s got to be a part of Ostium. A part of the foundation of this . . . World, for lack of a better word. Because Ostium is its own contained self; its own existence and reality. There’s nowhere else like it. Nowhere else where these specific rules apply and don’t at the same time. Does the entity exist because Ostium seems to be something good and pure that takes you to these magical places in time and space? If there is to be this good, there must be a balance in the bad. The evil. Hence the possible loss of life that Jake has hinted at may be related to Ostium. The radiation cloud that killed so many of my fellow people. The earthquakes and tsunamis; the other devastations. And now . . . There’s me. Going on a murderous rampage.

It’s got to be related to the blackness. Jake has always described it as something sinister and dooming, even if he’s never let the blackness actually take him. Until he did. Until it took us. And it seems that’s the end of that. But then there’s also what Monica has seen and experienced. The screams. The ghoulish sounds. The banshees . . . There seems to be either a lot of somethings at work here, trying to fuck everyone over, or one big bad guy or bad thing running the show. My thoughts lean towards the latter.

But I really need to get back to talking about what just happened to me. I can tell I’ve been avoiding it. Leading up to it and then going on perpetual tangents. Talking about anything but the so-called gorilla in the room. Or is that a bull in a china shop? I blasely talk about how saddened I am by the loss of Jake when the blackness took him, but I was fucking there. I saw it take him . . . Just as the blackness took me.

Monica went through the door without Jake, presumably ended up back in Ostium to continue her particular timeline without this Jake in it, but in that other one there was her Jake, the one she was carrying on her shoulder. And on the other side she played it cool, kept her shit together, and I suppose continued on as if everything was normal and fine as can be in Ostium . . . And there I fucking go again. Another tangent.

Bloody focus Dave! Keep it together mate. You need to. For your own bloody sanity.

Okay. As I said, an inordinately long time ago, I felt more in control of my faculties than I had in a long while. Going through the metal doors on that ship or station. And then seeing that strange museum of the future. And on the other side of the room: Jake and Monica. Actually, to be more precise: one Monica and two Jakes, one unconscious. They were talking very closely. Almost intimately, I thought. And then they reached their monumental decision. The blackness was loud and encroaching at this point. I knew I was completely and utterly fucked. So I just stood there and watched them. I’d already given up. And just as I watched Monica step through, I could feel the entity sinking its claws into my mind, once again taking over me. Was that because the blackness was so close? If this entity is somehow linked with the blackness, then that would make sense, however after all the times its taken over me before, the blackness has never seemed to be impending. So why should it be any different this time?

Okay. Time for the hard part. The bit I’ve been unable able to really describe to myself yet.

[Breath]

I suppose if the entity starts to take over me at any point now as I’m describing this experience, I’ll have a pretty good idea that it’s either related to the blackness and/or it doesn’t want me to fully know what happened to me. Okay. Here goes.

[Break]

The last thing I saw was Jake watching Monica go through, and I was so confused. Then the blackness came over me. I couldn’t see it, not even out of the corners of my eyes, because my focus was on Jake.

It was cold to begin with. Incredibly. Like if you’ve ever fallen through ice into semi-frozen water. I personally never have, but I know there are plenty of blokes who have, and I can at least imagine how extremely bloody cold it must be. The sheer shock to your system. It must be paralyzing. That’s what this felt like. Absolutely and completely paralyzing. It wasn’t quick either. Like a cold thick liquid. A frozen blanket that’s spent the last day in the freezer and is now enveloping you. Me being shit-scared didn’t help either. As it folded over my head with its cold weight I made the decision to close my eyes and mouth. I didn’t know – and I still don’t – if this would help prevent the blackness for getting inside of me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I put my hands over my face, covering my eyes, nose and mouth, and stuck my thumbs in my ears. Must’ve looked like a right sight. But at that moment it was all about attempted self-preservation.

The weight and cold pulled me down and I let it; had no choice really. I fell down onto my knees, crouching, curling myself, putting my head between my thighs and trying my best to become a ball-shaped human. No particular reason, it just occurred to me in the moment. Seemed like the safe thing to do. Whether it was or wasn’t, it worked. I felt myself getting squashed down, smaller and smaller under this suffocating cold weight. It started to feel a bit like in a dream where you feel you’re falling and spiraling even if you’re on solid ground. There was definitely a surreal sense to it; like reality was starting to blend with something else and I was unsure of what was actually happening to me. It felt like I was starting to turn around, even though I could still feel the floor pushing onto my knees and feet. And because it felt like my body was starting to spin, it made it feel like my mind was spinning. Then I got a horrific image in my head. From watching too many creepy Saturday morning cartoons where the spider is rolling up a fly or some other insect food in its web, spinning it round incredibly fast. Was I the insect food for whatever was being done to me?

Just when it felt like I couldn’t be squashed down anymore; that I was about to be turned into nothingness, or just go splat like a stepped on pea; the weight just disappeared. It was gone. The weight and the cold. In a second, or the blink of an eye, if I’d had either eye open. I waited. For a number of minutes. Counted to a hundred. Then did it again, just to be sure. I didn’t hear anything. Could still feel the floor below me, so that hadn’t changed. Fortunately. This was where I turned into a complete kid. I slowly got up: sitting up until I was on my haunches, then rising to my feet, while my eyes were shut tight, my hands still covering my face. Not wanting to see anything. Not wanting to see the truth. Wanting to keep hiding from everything and just hoping it would all go away.

Of course, it wouldn’t, but I eventually made myself brave enough the spread my fingers and look between them at a . . . A different world. I slowly took my hands away from my face and stared at something that just didn’t seem possible. It was all very dark, like it was nighttime. But the buildings all had this white luminescent glow around them, like an outline, or a tracing. That was why I didn’t really recognize myself at first. And then worked out what the buildings were; put two and two together. I was somehow back in Ostium. The shapes of the buildings all made sense, especially with the doors being outlined. And there were the numbers all lit up to. It felt like I was in some magical place: a Harry Potter world, perhaps, or Disneyland. But then my mind turned to darker thoughts, that were also more accurate. This whole thing also reminded me of that bit in the Lord of the Rings films. The ones by the kiwi, Peter Jackson. I’m talking about the scenes not where Frodo is constantly fondling that ring – which he does way to fucking often, in my honest opinion, talk about his bloody precious – but the scenes when he actually puts the ring on and everything turns into a sort of extremely haunted dream place. All the edges and lines are blurry. That’s what this felt like. Fortunately, there wasn’t a giant bloody scary eye looking for me. Nor any Nazgul. At least not at the moment.

Cautiously, I started walking around. I wasn’t in a particularly recognizable place in Ostium, meaning the front gate wasn’t in sight, and neither was the clock tower. But I was still in the areas with the buildings. I started walking down one of the streets, not really sure where I was going. In my mind I told myself I wanted to find the clock tower, since that was a door I knew would definitely open for me. It was the one guarantee in Ostium, really. The silence was . . . Bloody weird. I know this was an alternate Ostium. Maybe on another plane of existence or in another dimension. But I didn’t expect it to be quite so ominously quiet. And I’m not talking about there being no loud or even audible sounds nearby. I mean more like someone had turned the volume knob all the way down to zero, and I was now, for all intents and purposes, deaf, apparently. I tested it. Got to be empirical about this after all, don’t we? It’s what Jake would want, isn’t it? So I walked up to the nearest building and reached out for the wall of blackness. I could see it was a wall because of the white glowing outline, but the actual wall itself was all black, like there was nothing there. Nevertheless, I reached out, almost thinking my hand was going to pass through it completely, since it was all black after all . . . But no. I felt the wall. The wood, the texture, the solidity of it. It was all very real, even if I couldn’t see it. I even knocked on it and heard that sound, even if it seemed muffled, like I had cotton wool in my ears.

So where the bloody hell was I?

The blackness had come over me but hadn’t killed me. It’d . . . What? Transported me to this elsewhere place? Was that always what it did? Or was this something usual? Was it supposed to kill me, but things got muddled up somehow? Yeah. That’s right likely. Because I’m special. Just like Jake. Keep dreaming, mate. But what did this mean for me then? I felt . . . Whole again honestly. Like I was myself, and in control of myself. Fully me for the first time in ages. Had that blackness caused some effect with the entity that’d been controlling me? I wasn’t feeling anything right now, which wasn’t to say I wouldn’t in any moment, but this did feel different. I felt different. More in control. Maybe it was because of where I was. In this . . . Bloody strange place, where things were anything but what they were supposed to be. I joked about another plain or dimension, but maybe it was the truth. This was all ever so different. So why not then? Why couldn’t I be magically free of that menace?

I stopped suddenly. I swore I’d heard something. I stayed perfectly still, trying my best not to move, imagining the hearing abilities of my ears reaching out in all directions like little satellite dishes, trying to pick up the sound I thought I heard, or trying to prove I wasn’t a complete plonka and hadn’t heard a bloody thing. No. No. There it was again. Shuffling footsteps. Could definitely hear them now. I started tiptoeing towards them. I was curious, but still terrified. I suppose there was always a very small chance it was Monica, but anything else usually meant something shitty. So this time I was going to be extra special careful. I quietly went down an alley and got close to the next main street. The footsteps were a lot closer now. I made it to the corner and counted to five, trying to keep my breathing even and as quiet as possible. When I’d made myself brave enough to do something, which I expected was just before I started legging it in the complete opposite direction, I stuck my head out around the corner to see what was making those oh-so-noticeable footstep sounds.

I didn’t know who or what it was at first. What with the little amount of light there was in this place, being able to recognize what this actually was was going to bloody tricky. I was pretty sure it was human. A person. Walking up the street. No clue who it might be. Definitely no one I recognized. He or she was pretty short in stature. The upper part of the body was hunched over, not because they were holding something but more that was just their shape. Possibly due to old age. Or a disability. It made me think the person might be a geriatric, an octogenarian, or a centenarian perhaps? Had they received their letter from the queen? They kept disappearing in shadow and then appearing again with a bit of light, but for such a short time, it was really hard to see what they looked like. I could barely tell what they were wearing. It looked thick and heavy. But it was pretty bloody cold in this strange realm, so that only made sense. He or she was also wearing heavy trousers that looked too big for them. And heavy clomping about  boots. That’s why I was able to hear them so well. Now that I was closer, I could hear the person breathing. Like everything else, it was asexual, but consistent. Like they were tired after a long walk or run, or they were sick in some way . . . Or they were just bloody old. Wheezing was just a way of life for them now.

All probable possibilities. And as I felt myself gag over that horrible piece of alliteration I saw the figure stop. Quite suddenly. Like they too had heard something . . . Or someone. I held my breath. I hadn’t made a sound, had I? The cold enveloping me and turning me into a statue. I felt my heart stop along with the rest of my body. An impossibility I know, but then this whole place was an impossibility.

The figure’s breath had changed. They’d definitely noticed something. Something that’d made them come to a dead stop. I heard a phlegmy clearing of the throat. Then the person started to turn around towards where I was. There was the creaking of sinews and cartilage; the cracking of old bones. I don’t know how I heard this, but I did so clearly in the dead silence. The head of the person was hooded. Arms reached up and from the holes of the sleeves appeared white, gnarled, ancient hands. The fingers arthritic and claw shaped. The old hands reached up and grasped the edges of the hood.

I was about to be shown who or what was beneath the hood. But I wasn’t going to give it a chance. My bravery had evaporated like a frail drop of water on a hot day. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I turned and ran as fast as I could. I had no bloody clue where I was going. The chances of that thing following me and actually catching up with me seemed impossible. It acted really old, seemed bloody ancient. I was probably safe. But I’ve never been one to depend on the promise of probabilities, especially when the chances of the fucking impossible happening exist. I also never wanted to find out what was beneath that hood. To say it was the stuff of nightmares was . . . Quintessentially accurate.

I didn’t know where I was now; what part of Ostium. But it wasn’t any different from before, so I wasn’t that bothered. I gave myself a good five minutes to fully catch my breath. Then a little longer to try and calm down. And then I heard those bloody footsteps again. Getting louder. And closer. How in the fuck? But I wasn’t going to miss my cue when it was this bloody blatant.

I had to get the hell out of here. I needed to get away from this nightmare place. This alternate, bizarro Ostium.

And there was really only one way I could do that.

I started running again, wondering which one I should try. And then like a heavenly sign; a shining star to guide the three kings, I saw the door with the number 2 on it, all glowy and inviting. It was a sign, if ever there was one.

You know the saying? Yes, the one I’m making up on the spot right at this moment: go back to the beginning, because that’s where you’ll find a way out.

You know it makes sense.

I grasped the handle, hearing the footsteps again now. This time it had only been only seconds and the thing had almost caught up with me. I wasn’t going to waste any more time. Praying, I turned the handle and the door opened I little. I threw it open to a blinding white light and part of me really wanted to see: 1) how close this creepy person was to me, and 2) if this light was having any effect on them. It felt so good and pure and strong and so the opposite of this place. But I couldn’t afford to take that chance and waste any more time.

Letting go of the handle, I dove through the incandescent doorway, throwing the door closed behind me as I fell and landed . . .

[Break]

. . . On solid ground. It wasn’t too hard. A bit soft actually. Kind of springy I’d say, if I had to describe it. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was greenery. It was the ground. And it was green. I shot up like a rocket and saw I was in forest full of life and color and vitality. Definitely not the devoid of life place I just was in. I looked back at the door and actually shouted in surprise when I saw there was no door. It was bloody gone. Oh shit. What did that mean? The way back was gone . . . Yes, the way back to that place I never wanted to go again. I suppose that wasn’t so bad then. Also, as a bonus: the fucking terrifying thing wouldn’t be following me here. Definitely advantage Dave with that one. Actually, let’s just call it game, set and match.

I started walking towards a wooden wall that looked very familiar. There was the tree with those three letters. Yep. Indeed I’d come back to the beginning. I was back in Roanoke. Again.

And the usual door for getting out of this place didn’t exist anymore. This was going to be interesting then. But it wasn’t the first conundrum I’d gotten myself into, and probably wouldn’t be the last either.

I walked through the opening in the wall and surveyed the inside of the hamlet. Everything was just as I’d left it and presumably as Jake and Monica had left it too, during their own individual journeys here. The fire pit looked like . . . It was still being used. There was wood in it, burning nicely, a smoke plume curling away into the sky. That meant someone was here.

But who?

And for the first time in a long while I remembered I still had the gun and I knew how to use it.

I hesitantly took it out of my pocket, worried that the entity was going to be taking over me again; coming out of bloody nowhere. I waited. It didn’t happen. I waited a little longer. Still nothing happened. Finally, I emptied my lungs. I could only deal with one heart-attack inducing stressful problem at a time.

I had to find who or what was here, lighting a fire apparently.

I went to the first building. The door was ajar. Actually more open than that. Just open enough for me to slip through without making a sound. I took a deep breath, pretended my tummy took up less room, and slipped into the house.

Inside it was quite dark. There was a table and chairs. On the table was a lit lamp; there was oil in the bottom of it, keeping the flame going. It gave just enough light to reveal the man on the other side of the room. He was turned away from me, looking at something on the wall. Staring at it as if it was something very important to him. He was taller than me, black hair. He could probably put up a decent fight, which was why the first thing I did was point the gun at him.

In a shaky voice I asked a simple question: “Who the fuck are you then?”