Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You are eighteen years-ish, you’ve been missing for about six months, and Victoria and Chloe have been aware of you for three days.

It’s helped, you think. Victoria opens her blinds now and sees the flowers you bring her.

“Max, are these from you?”

You wrap your arms around her from behind, but of course she can’t feel it. So, you summon a breeze to ruffle her hair.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yeah, dumbass, who else would be sending you deer-bitten flowers, Samuel?”

“Because if they’re not from you they’re from Samuel and then I’ll have to call the cops.”

“Aw come on, Baby, he’s just normal weird, not creepy weird.”

“I don’t care what you always say, he probably has dead bodies under the toolshed.”

You laugh because of how easy this is. And how absolutely fucking hard it is. You want to shove her and twine your fingers together. You want to curl up wearing nothing but your underwear and one of her shirts.

“At the end, you start to think about the beginning. You were so talented for such an amateur, I kind of wanted to hate you.”

She flops down on the bed next to you. She stretches an arm to pull something out of a pair of jeans on the floor, small, silver, and scratched. It’s your iPod.

“My first thought was that you looked really lonely… and pretty.”

“You know, I lied about what I’d do with Time Travel powers, if I could I would have gone back in time and told myself to wait. That you were going to come along and show me love and acceptance like it was the easiest thing.”

She takes a breath,

“And you’d make me self-conscious about my hands.”

“I like your big hands, it makes using a strap-on redundant.”

“Max, I swear to god, if you just made the penis fingers joke…”

You send a gust of wind toward the Stitch bobble head on top of her PC. She sees this and shakes her head with an eyeroll.

The gust of wind also knocks down a picture of you and her with your parents. She gets up and looks at it. That little wrinkle appears between her brows.

“I should… I guess, I should take your parents some copies of these. I’ve just been scared of seeing them.”

“They won’t blame you.” You say.

She’s a lone figure on a long plane. You get up and cup the outside of her hand. For a second you can feel the warmth and the softness of her knuckles. You jolt forwards, hoping to further the sensation. Victoria drops the photo.

“Max?!”

You’re grabbing at her hands, but it goes through. No warmth, no feeling. You sink to your knees and sob. Months of deprivation, chasing scraps, and for a moment you got to brush her hand. Why couldn’t it have been a kiss or a hug? A hug can go a long way after a traumatic event. Victoria’s good at hugging. She’s solid and warm, even though she always complains about being cold.

“Was that? Did you just touch me? Holy shit. I need to call Chloe.”

You use the gust of wind to make the photo float. Mom and Dad need her more than Chloe right now.

She looks at the walls she’s decorated with pieces of you and decides which ones she needs to keep.

The quad is all colliding pressure of the warm day and the chilly night. Brooke is leading some of the Freshmen biology students on a Bat Monitoring expedition. Their little black wings dart through the amber beams of streetlights, chasing bugs and diving over cars.

“You know, I was really looking forward to spending middle age together. Like, I see you with that ‘can I speak to your manager’ haircut that suburban moms get. I would, of course, have a moustache and khaki pants.”

For the drive to your parents house, she plugs the Auxiliary cord into your iPod and starts playing what she used to dismiss as indie garbage.

It shuffles to Youth and… well, damn this song hits a little too close to home. Victoria pretends not to notice, but by the verse,

‘I'm a lifeless face that you'll soon forget,

And my eyes are damp from the words you left,’

She’s crying so hard that she has to pull over.  

Fuck. You should be able to comfort her, but all you can do is blow gusts of wind and that doesn’t really aid the situation.

Victoria wipes her eyes and leans back against the headrest. She sighs and starts the car again.

The gravel crackles under the tires as she pulls into the driveway. The curtains hang loose and limp like moth wings. You see them flutter with movement. Mom and Dad are home in person at least.

Victoria bounces the box further up her torso as it slips on her sleek jacket.

The door opens before her fist makes contact with the wood.

Dad stands there and, God, he looks so much older. His hair is iron grey and the crows feet around his eyes now droop instead of crinkle. The crooked tooth in his smile makes him look withered and menacing instead of charmingly imperfect.

“Hey Jack,” Victoria says, “I’ve been going through our--my old pictures of Max, and I brought over copies of the ones I thought you and Emma would want.”

He looks at her from under his eyelashes. She shivers and sniffs, holding back tears.

“Jack, is it Max?” Mom’s voice is tired, but hopeful.

Dad moves aside to show Mom who their guest is. Her hair is streaked with silver and her eyes are so sad.

“Oh Sweetie, we were so worried we were going to lose you too.” Mom says.

They pull Victoria in for a hug and she clings to them. Your mom smooths her fingers through Victoria’s hair, and your dad presses his lips to her temple.

Your family, little and broken, but still good.

You would be eighteen. You need to fix this between worlds business. If this were some kind of fantasy or sci fi story, an old white dude would show up and tell you the prophecy you need to fulfill in order to get your life back. But, no, this is real life, and real life does not come with an instruction manual.

A good place to start would be Sean Prescott. However, you haven’t seen the man since he was pulling at your left hand and had you pinned to the floor of the dark room.

Nathan seems to be skulking around an empty home. Maybe there’s some kind of Lovecraftian dungeon in the basement. That sounds about right for the boring horror movie your life has become.

No, you need to get your deduction on, Sherlock. Need to Nancy Drew up in this biz.

Only, doing detective work is hard when you can’t open cupboards, or drawers, or type the passwords to computers, even if you can find them.

You can, however, hear all the secret conversations you want and see what the passwords are.

What you need is a partner who can do these things. Someone solid, physical.

You slide into the half-occupied booth at the Two Whales. Nathan always gets the Mac and Cheese with a side salad when he’s here and then stays for like two hours after he’s done.

You wonder how many real friends he has now that the Vortex Club is all but disbanded.

“Hey Nathan.”

“No. Whatever you are asking me, the answer is ‘no’. You got me fucking suspended, you little bitch.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. But, let me pitch my idea. A world where you are freed of me haunting you, a world where I get to feel cotton sheets and eat macaroni and hug my parents again. A world where life isn’t total garbage.”

Nathan laughs nastily.

“Not total garbage for you, maybe.”

“Nathan,” You lower your voice to that tone of soft concern.

The door tinkles open and in struts Chloe with Rachel Amber. She’s wearing her cleanest plaid and she looks like she’s combed her hair. Rachel’s eyes, blue, though greener than yours or Nathan’s, drift over the two of you. Nathan sees her and then turns rigid in his seat, looking anywhere but at her. Redness is creeping up his neck

“Nathan, do you like Rachel?” You lean forward.

She and Chloe pick the booth next to his. He grinds out a little grunt that you take for a yes.

“Damn it, why do all the good ones have to be rug munchers?”

You lean forward on your elbow, “All of the good ones? Nathan, I never knew you were attracted to me.”

“Not you. You’re creepy. Always just standing around staring with your mouth hanging open.”

You close your mouth.

“Wait, if not me then… Victoria?”

Nathan still isn’t looking at you, or perhaps behind you. You turn around and see Rachel, she’s laughing at something Chloe said and playing with her hair. Nathan seems to be very interested in his lap.

More, what’s on his lap.

“Is that my camera?”

He freezes.

“Nathan, if Chloe or Joyce sees you with that, they’ll go apeshit.”

“Shit. Shitshitshit.”

He leaves a wad of cash on the table and shuffles off like he’s crapped his pants. You move to follow him, but Rachel is still looking at you. Looking and not really seeing. You feel drawn to her. It’s like she’s a different colour than everyone else in town. She’s like the smell of ozone before it snows.

Out in the parking lot, Nathan freely inspects your camera.

“So, about our deal.” You say.

“What deal?”

“You help me find a way to get my body back. I dunno, maybe we can hunt down the philosopher’s stone. You can have a metal arm and a leg, I can possess a suit of armor…”

“Usually I find your nerdy shit annoying, but that sounds like an awesome idea.”

“Okay, let’s think of a way to get my body back.”

Nathan sighs and snaps a few pictures of the parking lot.

“That’s not gonna happen unless you can rewind time, which you can’t do because you’re dead, and Dad can’t do because you stole the power from him.”

You decide to sit on Chloe’s truck while he takes gross shots of a dead bird.

“What even is the power anyway? Why did your dad have it?”

“It’s something the original Vortex Club found in a cave by the Lighthouse. It needs an energy source, so using it too much can kill you. That’s what happened to one of his friends.”

“So, for the past thirty years, he’s been doing what… rewinding time to buy up the town?”

You pause.

Holy shit, that’s exactly what he’s been doing.

“Holy shit. That’s unethical as fuck.” You say.

“Duh.”

Nathan’s looking through the polaroids he’s taken. The look on his face goes from that resting serene smug to one that you’ve come to recognize as concern.

“Nathan, what is it?”

He holds up a photograph of you standing in the parking lot.

You put your hand over your mouth. There you are. You exist. You’re not just some imprint, a figment of an imagination. You could give this to your parents, to Tori.

“Nathan, you need to give that to my family.”

“And reveal that not only do I have your camera, but pictures of you alive? How the fuck do you think that’s gonna go for me? The cops will come to my house again, ask my dad where you are. So, yeah, that’s not happening.”

“But Nathan, that’s proof that I’m alive. Proof that you didn’t kill me.”

“Yeah, but there’s still no body.”

“Nathan, please!”

“Fuck off.”

He stuffs the photographs into his pockets and gets into his car.

You don’t follow him.

You are eighteen and watching Victoria work on a book report of Of Mice and Men. The window’s open and a light breeze is ruffling the hair at the back of her neck. You wish you could kiss it.

The other tab she has open is something about multiverse theory by R. Lutece. She’s so cute.

There’s a knock at the door. She turns to angrily squint at the threshold.

“Victoria? Can you come over and talk?” It’s Brooke.

Brooke doesn’t fall under the ‘do gooder’ category with Dana and Kate. Still suspicious about a potential intervention, Victoria goes to the door.

“What is it?” She purses her lips.

“I want to show you something.” Brooke says.

You and Victoria follow her into her room. It’s tidy with little nerd paraphernalia. It’s like she hasn’t really moved in. There’s a toolbox and a bookshelf full of books, but the rest looks sterile.

Then there’s her massive computer set up. The tower looks like a monster. On her two screens she has some audio programs set up.

“So, I was recording bats a week ago and picked up some weird interference. Like, there was a lot more chatter than usual. So I thought I’d try and lean it up by running it through Audacity.”

Victoria’s eyes widen. She has no idea what Brooke is talking about, you aren’t sure either.

“But, then that didn’t work, so I had to find a crack of Audition and put it through a few filters….”

She’s still talking, but it’s all Greek to you.

“And then I got this.”

She hits the spacebar for play and you hear your own tinny voice come out.

“was really looking forward to spending middle age together. Like, I see you with that ‘can I speak to your manager’ haircut that suburban moms get. I would, of course, have a moustache and khaki pants.”

Victoria covers her mouth with her hands. She’s shaking her head, tears dotting the corners of her eyes.

“Did you ever have this conversation with Max?”

She shakes her head.

You’re beyond words. That’s you talking. Posthumously. They can hear you. Bats can, apparently, hear you.

“Woah, holy shit, so I’m just speaking at a different frequency than everyone else?” You say.

The device on Brooke’s desk crackles and clicks with static. Brooke dives for it, plugging it into her computer and setting up a new project with the same settings.

“Max, are you in here?” She says.

“Yeah?” You say.

There’s a delay, and your voice sounds distorted, but there it is.

Victoria’s eyes are darting around the room.

“Baby, where are you?”

“You mean, like on a quantum level? Because, I have no idea. If you mean in the room, then I’m right by the foot of Brooke’s bed.”

You wait for the delay.

Brooke is frantically writing and pulling at her hair.

“Holy shit. Holy shit. This is a scientific breakthrough. I’ve just broken the barriers of transdimensional communication with a freaking bat reader.”

She’s still talking, but Victoria’s looking at you with searching eyes. She knows you’re there. She can hear you.

“Max. It is you.”

“Baby, you know I’d never leave you.”

“I need to go tell Ms. Grant, maybe call Neil Degrasse Tyson or Stephen Hawking.”

She’s gone in a jog, leaving the two of you in her room alone. You rock back and forth on your heels.

“Soo…” You say.

She interrupts before the delay.

“Max, where have you been?”

Then she hears the delay. God, it’s gonna be like a bad Skype call.

“Good thing West Coasters are used to having huge pauses between people speaking. I’ve been around town. Stalking you and the rest of the family, mostly. That or bothering Nathan.”

She laughs, a little hysterically, grabbing at the air around you.

“What was that… deer thing you did and the graffiti?”

“I dunno, it’s weird. I can only affect little bits of the world. I can rearrange graffiti, sometimes control deer, and Nathan can see me. Oh! Shit. He took a photo of me with my camera and I was there.”

You grab at her sleeves, or try to, bouncing on your toes. Her eyes are still searching for you, not fixed on the point where you are. It’s so close though.

“Baby, you need to get that photo. Maybe they can do science to it or whatever.”

Victoria sighs, rolling her head back on her shoulders and dropping them.

“Did you forget the part about Nathan having a restraining order against me?”

You fold your arms, “Okay, but since when has a piece of paper been able to stop Victoria Chase?”

Because you know her inside and out and a jab at her competitive nature and pride is the best way to get what you want. It’s selfish and shitty. You shouldn’t be using her like this.

You’d tell her to forget it, but that would just make it worse. There’s determination burning in those eyes now. An almost awkward silence covers you.

“So, um, how much have you been watching me?”

Her eyes are on her toes, and you rub a palm over your neck. You know what she’s thinking.

Two days ago, entering the room to find her hand between her legs and tears in her eyes. Your name was on her lips. You exited quickly. Walking in on each other wasn’t a big deal when you were alive, but that seems like too much of an invasion of privacy.

“Uhhhh… like, the healthy amount. If I see you’re doing something private then I leave.”

“Oh.” She rolls her lips, you read disappointment on her.

“Do… you want me to watch?”

She shrugs exaggeratedly, then begins to pace with her hands on her hips.

“I dunno, if you want to. It’s just kinda hot. Having you there watching me while I touch myself thinking of you.”

“It just makes me sad that I can’t do anything about it. That I can’t kiss or hold you.”

You sit on Brooke’s bed, then lean back so you’re lying prone and staring at the ceiling. Outside is eerily quiet. The birds aren’t singing. You can’t hear the usual rustle of activity from Samuel either.

“Max, are you still there?”

“Always.” You say.

It makes her choke into her hand.

“Do you… can you, still think of me when you’re touching yourself?”

She could ask questions about the unknown universe and because she’s Victoria Chase, she wants to know if unlife has made you any less sexually attracted to her.

“Baby, if I could, I would be taking you on this bed right now.” You try not to sound bored.

It’s not boring, just talking to her is a treat. It’s just the same old argument and set of issues that you wish your assurances would take away. You love her, you think she’s sexy, you don’t need to have sex with her to prove that.

“Do you wanna try and reenact the pottery scene from Ghost?” She says.

She’s cut short by an out of breath Brooke followed by Chloe and Warren.

“Where’s Ms. Grant?” You say.

“She went to the board of governors to challenge the new school surveillance policy.” Brooke groans.

Warren and Chloe are staring wide eyed at the computer. Oh yeah, this whole concept is probably brain breaking for them.

“Maaax?” Warren says.

“Hey Warren, sup Chloe?” You say.

Chloe presses herself back against the door. Her eyes are wild and her teeth bared.

“The fuck is this?”

“Well, Brooke somehow managed to translate what I’m saying. It’s a bunch of technobabble, but it works!”

Brooke rolls her eyes, “It’s not technobabble.”

“How do we even know that’s Max? It could just be someone pulling a prank, taking all of her phone conversations and scrambling them. It could be… demons for example.”

You laugh.

“Chloe, we could get a Ouija board if you’d prefer.” Victoria says.

You shoot a grin in her direction.

“You caught me, Chloe, it’s the Midnight Man. Better light a candle, fuckboy.” You use your scary voice.

She jams her hands in her pockets, face red.

“Shithead, you said you’d never tell anyone.” She says.

“Do you believe it’s me then?”

She runs a hand over the shaved side of her head, swearing under her breath.

“Okay, time to check the internet, because I have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

Research is slow, because there’s nothing like this out there. In the mean time, Brooke’s dorm room is cramped for the four of them plus you. Tensions run high with frustration. Victoria’s going to start yelling soon. She’s low blood sugar.

“Can we order food and maybe take a break?” You say.

“Good idea.” Chloe blows out a breath.

She gets up to order food. Warren looks between the spot where you are and Victoria.

“So, it’s just like Madoka?” Warren leans back in his chair.

“It’s nothing like Madoka, Warren.” Victoria says, still looking through her textbook.

“Lesbians, time travel, regret. It’s totally Madoka.”

“Warren, it’s not fucking Madoka. You’re wrong. God, you’re like a fake nerd boy. That’s how wrong you are.”

“Kids, the only thing the winner of this argument is getting is me pulling their underwear up their butt.” Chloe interjects.

“Max, do you feel like Madoka?” Warren says.

“Well, I did kinda give up life to become more of a theoretical concept…”

“It’s more like Eureka Seven AO.” Victoria huffs.

“Eureka!” Brooke says.

“See? Brooke agrees.”

Brooke looks over at the two arguing nerds with a squint. She holds up an equation.

“Oh, no, whatever you two are arguing about is dumb and irrelevant. Warren, can you please focus on this?”

He gets up with a scraping chair. Chloe returns and steals the chair.

“Two large pizzas, no ham and pineapple.”

“Chloe, can you help with this? You’re better at physics than me.” Brooke says.

She pulls the chair over to look. They’re all mumbling and talking over each other, trying to solve for ‘M’ or whatever.

“Max, do you know how your powers work?” Warren says.

“They just do. They didn’t come with an instruction manual. I hold out my left hand to reverse time, and I flatten it out in a stop motion to freeze it. Oh, and I can go back in time further through pictures, but I’ve only done that twice.”

That leaves a big pause.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you could do that.” Victoria says.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Yeah, me either, when did you do that?”

You could bail right now, just leave to avoid the inevitable shitstorm this will cause. You take a deep breath, too late now, and it’s not like you can rewind.

“I said something really stupid last summer and I really hurt you. You went back to Seattle without speaking to me. It was two weeks, and I found a picture from that day and I was just filled with so much regret that I wanted to make it better. Make it so that it never happened.”

Brooke clears her throat, Warren scratches his arm.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be in the girls dorms.” He says.

He slaps his thighs and Brooke leads him out.

“Max, what did you say?”

“I’m gonna check on that pizza order.” Chloe says.

She leaves, closing the door with a click.

“I said we could take on the world together as photographer and model.” You sigh.

She bites her lip. Her hands bunch in her lap.

“But, I didn’t mean it like that! It just slipped out and you know that I love your work. All I meant was that you’re my favourite subject and you always say that I’m yours. I just should have said photographers and models. Pluralization has never been my strong suit.”

“I’m not mad, Max. Not at you, anyway. I can believe that I’d get pissed at you saying that. It’s just, perspective, you know? You’re gone and I wasted two weeks of being with you in that universe.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It’s worth the world, Max.”

“Picture me kissing you right now.” You say.

You press the space where your mouth is against the space where hers is. A tear runs down her cheek.

Chloe and Brooke return with pizza. Victoria swipes at her face and sets about cleaning the clutter off Brooke’s bed.

“Pizza guy seemed pretty spooked. Said that he came across a bunch of deer just standing in a row. They were eating some dead birds. I told him that deer are actually omnivores, but yeah, it’s weird to see.” Chloe says.

She takes a bite out of her slice of pizza, chews, then adds, “No big deal, right?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

You are eighteen. Eternal. Infinite. A person who exists and does not exist. A paradox.

Or, so says the thesaurus of terms you’ve been trying to describe yourself with. You are the undead, trapped between two walls of glass and pounding to try and get out.

Only now people can hear you screaming. Thanks, science.

It’s not like there’s a pocket sized version of the audio setup, so you’re still in an isolation chamber for most of the day.

And, you’re still hiding from Sean Prescott. Not that he’s come looking, but you know he wants his power back, and he’ll do anything to get it.

The photography room seems safe enough for now. You sit on the desk that Victoria and you shared for years. Were you visible, you’d be blocking her view with your crotch. But, you’re not, and she’d prefer the sight if you were.

Jefferson is droning on about capturing the perfect subject. He’s blind to Taylor ignoring the lesson to stare out the window, or Kate and Hayden sharing a piece of paper to draw on.

“I could corner any of you in a dark room, and get that fearful response.”

Your face feels itchy, though you shouldn’t feel anything. Your hands are hot and your breathing shallow. Why is this happening?

Victoria clears her throat and opens a pack of gum. You can breathe again.

The bell cuts his lecture short. He’s still barking orders as students are leaving. Something about an ‘Everyday Hero’ contest. Some kind of vague ‘feel good’ drivel for budding photographers. Alone with Jefferson in San Francisco, that sounds appropriate. Jeebus.

You follow Victoria out of the classroom. Other students skitter and flee at the sight of her. She doesn’t seem to care, lost in thought. You hope she isn’t going to do anything stupid when it comes to getting the photo from Nathan. You told her to drop it, but she isn’t the type to drop anything.

Victoria stops by the science lab to check up with Chloe and Brooke. The science lab is otherwise empty, weird, Ms. Grant was supposed to be teaching today.

“Anything new?”

“Nada.” Chloe groans.

She puts her head down on her physics book. Victoria pushes a wayward hair away from Chloe’s fresh undercut. Cute.

Chloe hums in response to the affection. Brooke makes a frustrated noise.

“It’s so weird, no one has heard from Ms. Grant since yesterday. Not only that, people are going missing all over town, so we can’t even have a priority.”

“Why not just send a message without her?”

Victoria leans against the desk Chloe’s resting on.

“Bunch of eighteen year old students from an art school claim they can speak to the dead? Yeah, that’s gonna go over well. I can just the response being ‘fake and gayyyyyyy’. Might as well just put it on YouTube or Reddit if we wanna hear that.” Chloe says.

“If we had some more concrete proof. That picture you have of Max’s reflection, maybe, but they’ll accuse it of being photoshopped.”

Victoria bites her thumb. You know what she’s thinking of.

“Max said that Nathan was able to take an honest to god picture of her using her old camera, which he has, by the way. If we could just get that photo.”

“I’ll text Warren to try Nathan’s locker in the change room.” Brooke says.

Chloe stands up and stretches, “I’ll do something a little less legal. I like to call it the old B and E. He drives to school, right? Frank’s been teaching me about lockpicking.”

“Chloe no.”

“Chloe yes.”

Brooke cuts in.

“Warren got back to me. A bunch of antidepressants, some pens, and some fucked up drawings. Nooses and stuff. God, that kid would be the best goth if he put in the effort.”

“Yes, that’s Nathan’s biggest problem.” Victoria sighs.

Taking the moment of distraction, Chloe bounds out of the room with a bounce in her step.

“I can’t tell if she’s going to work for NASA or go to prison.” Brooke says.

Victoria shrugs. She follows Chloe’s path out of the classroom and into the main hall. She spots Nathan going into the girls bathroom. That wrinkle appears between her eyebrows.

She follows him in.

He’s talking to himself, a madness mantra.

“You can do this, Nathan. Just bang, and it’s all over.” He says.

“Nathan. What the fuck are you doing in the girls room?”

“Fuck you, dyke. Do the words ‘restraining order’ mean anything to you? Back the fuck up!”

“It’s the girls restroom, they can’t fault me for that.”

You spot a flash of blue in the corner. You inspect it. Rachel is standing behind the stall, grimacing and texting, trying to stay out of the conflict.

“I heard you have a picture of Max. One you took with her camera.”

“You are so full of shit. Who would even tell you that?”

He’s in her face effectively pinning her against the wall. They’re nose to nose.

“What about that restraining order now, Prescott? Give it your best shot, Daddy’s money can’t protect you against me one on one.”

Nathan chuckles and pulls a pistol out of the back of his jeans.

Holy shit.

“He might not be able to, but this will.”

He levels the gun with her forehead. She swallows. Holy shit. Rachel! Do something.

“Give me the photo, Nathan and we can forget all of this.” Victoria’s voice quavers.

“You’re no in the position to be making demands, Bitch!”

He sounds like he’s on the edge of tears. His hand is shaking.

Rachel Amber to the rescue.

“Hey! Drop it! I’m calling the cops.”

You watch in slow motion as Nathan jumps, squeezing the trigger. Victoria’s got his wrist in her hand. The bullet hits the tile behind Victoria’s head, red from the path in made through her skull.

She slumps to the floor, lifeless.

“No!”

You’re screaming through every universe you can perceive. You’re reaching out. You need to rewind. She can’t die. She can’t. You have to get through this. You’re going to be together, you have to be.

Time begins to move backwards, you look at your own hand and see who it’s clipping through.

Rachel Amber is rewinding time.

She’s like a magnet, or one of those ghost vacuums from Ghostbusters. You’re getting pulled into her. With your power comes a piece of you.

You wake up in photography class. You are Rachel Amber and you are nineteen years old. You are Max Caulfield and you are eighteen years old.

You are reeling in the pleasant afternoon sun because you just witnessed Victoria’s death in the bathroom.

Yet, there she sits, you turn to look at her. She has her chin planted on her fist as she draws pictures of intertwining rings and the Eiffel Tower.

You know this because you are Max. But, you aren’t Max. You are Rachel.

Did you just… rewind time? Jefferson just gave this lecture. No one is going to answer his question, so he’ll ask Victoria.

“Anyone, Bueller? Ms. Chase, if you’re so bored by the lecture, perhaps you know the answer.”

“The Daguerreian Process. Created by Louis Daguerre in 1839, but it was replaced by more cost effective method in the 1860s.”

“Very good, Victoria. Someone has been doing there homework!”

“Or someone was just awake when we had this same lecture in Sophomore year.” She says.

Jefferson’s ears colour, but he ploughs on through with his spiel. Okay, Rachel, be calm. You’re probably just having an acid flashback. You stretch, knocking your camera to the ground with a crash. It’s completely wrecked.

Fuck.

Jefferson doesn’t notice. Victoria does, she laughs, a puff of breath through her nose. Well, fuck you too, Victoria, maybe you won’t save her ass.

No! You have to save Victoria.

First order of business, broken camera. If you’re going down the rabbit hole of crazy bullshit, might as well start here.

You cup the fingers on your left hand and watch as time slows and then begins to move backwards with a flickering of red and blue light.

Holy shit. This is some dumb anime nonsense. This is not a thing that happens to real people. What the sweet hell?

You camera is fine and Jefferson is still droning on. Maybe if you undid another button on your blouse he’d let you leave early?

God knows, he leers at you enough to make the try worth it.

But, Victoria’s in class. We, you, just need to keep her out of the bathroom until Nathan leaves.

It feels like your head's in a game of tug of war.

You watch as Taylor looks wistfully out the window and a drone whizzes by. It’s so peaceful. Almost enough to make you forget the grisly scene that occurs in ten minutes.

Victoria sighs and crumples up the paper she’s been drawing on.

The bell rings and everyone gets up. Jefferson is reminding people(the girls) about the Everyday Hero challenge.

“Hey Victoria.” You say.

“Go away, Rachel.” She says.

“Do you wanna take this outside?” You say.

She looks down at you with a perturbed confusion.

“No? I already have a record for assaulting another student. Your wannabe punk ass isn’t worth getting expelled.”

“I meant like, to do an activity together? Let’s go outside and take pictures.”

Victoria shoves past you, “God, you are so weird.”

Rewind.

“Hey Victoria, if you go to the girls bathroom right now you’ll get killed by Nathan Prescott.”

Just try the straight up approach. You’re not gonna dig through her hope and fears. Just talking to this bitch is exhausting.

“What?”

“Just trust me and don’t go to the bathroom down the hall. Go to the dorms.”

You shoulder your bag and walk toward the door.

“Hold up, Rachel, I have a friend who needs a model and I was thinking of giving him your number. Not without asking you first of course.” Mark says.

There are burn scars on his hands. You never noticed before, but he’s holding out a business card and his eyes are glittering like black buttons behind his glasses.

“Can I think about it?” You say.

“Sure thing. Just, don’t wait too long.”

He probably tells all the girls that they’re going to be a star. You pull your flannel tighter around your body as you leave.

Nathan’s entering the girl’s washroom when you’re accosted by Victoria’s huge handed grip.

“How the fuck do you know the future?” She hisses.

“I just found out, okay? I was in the bathroom. I saw it, and I wanted to stop it from happening, so I just used my left hand and--”

You wave a hand around your face, “Whoosh. Like rewinding a VHS.”

She searches your face, she’d be prettier if she weren’t such a huge bitch. Whatever lie test this is, you passed. She folds her arms over her chest.

“Come with me.”

“Are you going to assault me again?” Your haunches rise.

“No. Sorry. Can you please come with me?”

You pat yourself down, fix your hair, and don your sunglasses before saying, “Lead the way.”

Early October is cardigan weather and most of the people outside are in thin sweaters. The bus is pulling away, taking the townies home. Across the street stand a herd of horned deer. Don’t males live separately? Their bodies and horns look like shadowy black trees.

One steps out into the road, it’s coming for you. That’s not a deer.

Victoria touches your arm and you jump.

“Are you coming?”

You look back. The deer have moved closer and no one seems to notice. As you walk towards the dorms, you see Samuel, the custodian, looking at the woods with a pinched face.

“This is very bad.” He says.

You shudder and pull your flannel around you.

Victoria takes you back to the dorms. Part of you wonders if she’s trying to rebound you, but it’s Brooke’s room she takes you to.

“Hey, Fuckface, we have a problem.”

Warren opens the door, “Were you talking to Brooke like that?”

“No, I definitely meant you. Brooke’s testing her high frequency translator drone.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull because you have no idea what these nerds are talking about, and you have an English paper to procrastinate on. It was supposed to be due today, but Mrs. Hoyta is still on sick leave for depression.

“Why’s Warren in Brooke’s room?” You sigh.

“Best place to study temporal imbalances in the timeline and the weakening between dimensions.” He says, but he turns his neck and you see a hickie.

A gaggle of Sophomores pass you on their way to the stairs. Victoria boxes you in closer to the door to hide Warren from view.

“Get in there.”

“You’re not the boss of me, Victoria.”

The door closes hard behind behind you. Brooke’s room looks like it’s regularly neat, but invaded with clutter. Her desk is covered in physics textbooks and notes. Her wall is covered in post-its, and there are cans of Monster everywhere.

You’ll stay close to the door. If anyone tells you to take a red or a blue pill, you’re gonna bounce.

“Rachel has Max’s powers.”

What?

“What?”

“That time reversal you described. Max could do that.” Her voice cracks.

“Interestink. Somehow Max managed to transfer the power?” Warren says.

Every time he opens his mouth Victoria looks annoyed. At this point, you’re sure she hates everything minus herself, cameras, and her dead girlfriend.

“She got the power from Nathan’s dad.” Victoria sits on the bed.

“Hmm, what if it’s a parasite? It can hop from host to host.”

He keeps talking as he sits at Brooke’s computer and does some searching.

You feel awkward being here. This is going way over your head. Today has been a fucked up ride and you just wanna light up and take a nap.

“Do I need to be here for this? My head hurts and my dorm’s just across the way?”

Victoria looks conflicted, but she needs your cooperation, so she shrugs.

“I’ll come get you when we need you.”

“Thanks, Rachel.” Warren says.

You walk across the hall to your own room. What a weird fucking day. You’re in the process of turning on your Hifi when you hear a scream followed by a wet thud.

There are people jogging across the grass toward the front of the dorm. Security guards. Some frantically on their radios. Feet go thundering past your door. You don’t want to know what happened, but curiosity gets the best of you.

One of the security guards is in the front lobby blocking the doors.

“Don’t come out here! This area is off limits!”

There’s screaming coming from the quad. The taller girls are peeking over his shoulders. You hear sirens.

You rewind time to before the screaming, before the guards, just after that thud. You exit the door to see Nathan Prescott smeared like jam on the pavement.

Standing on the edge of the woods near the totem pole, is that group of deer. The one at the front licks its lips.

You are nineteen years old at the end of the world.

The flashlight on your phone lights up the path before you. You didn’t think the trip to Two Whales would be so bad on foot.

But, then the sun went out.

An eclipse typically lasts seven and a half minutes. The moon covered the sun five hours ago.

Your phone illuminates a pile of black limbs. You shake as you hold it higher, showing the full bodies. It’s those deer.

The herd of stags turns too slowly, too mechanical. They seem to move like a school of fish.

One opens its mouth and the others follow. The jaws open with a sickening crack of bone and cartilage. The mouth, dripping with black bile opens too far. It takes its neck with it.

The growl that comes from them echoes with bass in your bones.

Those are not deer.

You run. Run past cars. Hop fences. You need to get somewhere inside. Somewhere with no deer.

The Two Whales.

The door to the diner swings open. Joyce is standing on one foot, looking tired as you walk in.

“Hey, Rachel. You look like a mess. Is everything okay?”

“The deer in this town are trying to kill me.” Is what Max would say.

What you say is, “I’m fine. Trying out this urban exercise thing.”

“Rachel, it’s nine o’clock. Though, with this eclipse, I can’t tell what time it is anymore.”

“Yeah.” You check the windows.

The moon covered the sun yesterday and the locals are still coming in for pie and coffee. The fisherman outside is manning his post, passing out pamphlets. Keep Calm and Carry On.

The truck pulls in and you sigh, sitting at your usual booth. You cup your eyes to the glass and watch as Chloe, Warren, Brooke, and Victoria pile out of the cab. Chloe waves to Joyce as she comes in.

“Hey Mom.”

“Chloe, Victoria, other friends.”

They all slide into the booth with you. Warren starts talking, Brooke covers his mouth and silently waves.

“Rachel, what’s up, what’s the emergency.” Chloe grabs your hand.

“Evil deer are trying to kill me.” You say.

Brooke rubs her temples, “I’m ordering a milkshake.”

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” Warren says.

“If I’m fighting killer deer in the pitch black, then the stomach ache is worth it.”

Warren drums his hands on the table.

“Okay, I want one too.”

Joyce arrives, looking concerned.

“You kids look like you’re at a war meeting.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Victoria says.

Joyce raises her eyebrows and mouths ‘okay’.

“Can I get you kids anything to eat or drink?”

“Black coffee and the belgian waffles.” Victoria says.

Joyce winces as she writes down ‘MC Special’.

“All of the bacon, Mom. It’s the end of the world and cholesterol doesn’t matter any more.”

“Two milkshakes. One chocolate, one banana.” Warren says.

Brooke looks at him over her glasses. He kinda smiles and winks.

Aww.

Joyce looks at you.

“Green tea?”

Everyone groans.

“And a orange soda float?”

Joyce leaves with an assurance of ‘coming right up’.

“So, the deer are not what they seem?” Chloe says.

She slings an arm around your shoulder and you realise this could be a triple date if Max weren’t dead.

Victoria notices too and sniffs loudly, inspecting her nail beds.

“I just saw them eating dead birds, and when I got close, they turned their head like… fully around. Like an owl or a robot. And then they opened their mouths.”

You use both hands to mime the nightmare jaws you saw on the deer.

“So, if anyone wants to back out, now would be the time.” Victoria says.

“Where the fuck are we gonna go? It’s the end of the world and we still have school tomorrow.” Brooke says.

Joyce brings over three malt cups filled with the excess, along with your cold drinks. After sliding them down she fills Victoria and Chloe’s coffee cups.

“Food’ll be out in a second, kids.”

You’re chewing on a piece of bacon when you see the herd of deer creeping into the parking lot. There are more than there were before. As if each thing they eat makes them multiply.

“We need to leave.” You say.

Victoria wipes some whipped cream off her plate and pops it into her mouth.

The sailor outside screams.

“Holy shit.” Warren whispers.

The streetlights illuminating the parking light are flickering, their bulbs exploding in a rain of glass.

Shoes squeak on the tile as the other patrons stand to watch the scene as it occurs.

“We need to leave now.”

You push Brooke out of the booth, she’s still staring at the parking lot.

The coffee cup Joyce is refilling overflows as she stares. It knocks her out of her reverie.

“Damn it. Now I gotta get a mop.”

“Mom, we need to leave.” Chloe says.

She looks at the deer who are walking close still, with their calm footsteps. You can see the sweat lining her brow.

“Out the back. Through the kitchen. Take my car.”

“Mom, we’re not leaving without you.” Chloe’s voice cracks.

“I’ll call your father. He can bring the big truck to come and get me.”

“My truck’s in the parking lot, we can just use that.”

Victoria tugs Chloe’s sleeve. She turns to see the deer taking huge bites out of metal and rubber. Their jaws unhinge, exposing those black, glittering teeth.

“Fuck.”

Joyce holds up her keys.

“You gotta go right now, girl. Get somewhere safe.”

Chloe hugs her, shaking, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too. So much.”

“Gogogogogo.” You pull the others with you through the kitchen. Some bacon burns on the griddle as the cook watches the parking lot in horror.

You push past him, running past racks of dishes and spices and out the back door. The alley is clear for now. The homeless woman is nowhere to be found, but you can hear the screaming of Frank Bowers. You feel like you’re going to vomit.

“Everyone get in the car.”

Luckily, it’s Arcadia Bay and people still leave their doors unlocked. You pack into the back between Brooke and Warren. Victoria gets shotgun, while Chloe peals out of the lot.

The deer all turn their heads, then move to follow you.

Good. You might be able to save the diner.

Bad. The nightmare stags are after you.

Worse. A lot of the streetlights are out, so Chloe’s driving only by headlight.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it.” Warren says.

“This is it, the apocalypse.” Brooke says.

“Black hole sun, won’tcha come.” Chloe says.

“And bring the impact of the extinction level event.” Victoria says.

You pause, the others in the car look at Victoria.

“What the hell song is that?”

“Oh come on, Busta Rhymes?!” She slaps the dashboard, “Ugh, white people.”

“Funny. You’re more white than me.” Brooke says.

Her hackles are raising. You grab her shoulder.

“We can watch the world devoured in its hate.” You say.

“Goddamn, that was a cool moment.” Chloe says.

“We totally did like an apocalypse remix. Brooke, remember that for the next time you’re playing around in Audition.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep it in mind if we survive tonight.”

All along the streets and sidewalk you can see hoofed feet pushing against pavements like roots.

“Chloe, drive faster.”

“Rachel, I can’t see shit, I’ve already had one car accident and I don’t wanna tempt fate.”

“Okay. We need a game plan.” You say.

“You need to go back in time six months.” Victoria says.

“Do we know if she can?” Brooke says.

“She has to. Otherwise, there’s no way of fixing this. The only ones who could have helped are dead.” Victoria’s voice breaks.

“Do you have any pictures from six months ago?” Warren says.

“On my Instagram. Do you think I could print them off and try to enter the print? Is there like… some magic about polaroids?”

“I think it works on any picture you have a strong emotional connection to. That’s what Max said, anyway.”

The part of your brain that is Max feels like it’s giving you an affirmative. Or that could just be the placebo effect.

The car bounces on potholes.

There are no potholes on this road.

Brooke starts gagging. Victoria turns on the radio to distract you all.

Static.

Then in a calm, but distorted voice, “She doesn’t belong.”

A shudder runs through you. Victoria turns the radio off, but it keeps repeating through the static.

“She doesn’t belong.”

Chloe speeds up, the school’s in sight. You can see other headlights, the bus is pulling out. You hope that it’s full of students. It slows down, seeing the lamps of the car.

Chloe rolls down her window. David’s behind the wheel of the bus, but his head is bleeding.

“We’re gonna try to put an end to this.” She says.

Dana leans out of the third window, “Good luck!”

The bus drives back towards town. Maybe they’ll rescue those still at The Two Whales.

You’re still hoping this is some awful apocalypse dream. Real life isn’t like this. Life just goes along, no matter how fucked up the environment and the middle east get, life just stays the same.

It’s not allowed to be this strange.

The car creeps along up to the front of the school. There are less deer here than in the parking lot.

“Okay, game plan. Let’s run to the science lab. There we can build weapons, and you guys can run across the hall to the photography lab to print out Rachel’s picture.” Chloe says.

“Should we split up?” Warren says.

“No. Let’s try not to be white people in a horror movie.” Victoria says.

“We stick together. We go fast and stay low. And, we hope to God that the school doors are still open.”

Chloe pulls a handgun out from under the seat.

Victoria’s eyes widen.

“Joyce is not in the neighbourhood of fucking around.” She blows out a breath.

“Okay, once we’re out of the car, it’s pirate rules. If you fall behind, you get left behind. We’re finishing this once and for all. I love you all, except Warren. So, Brooke, don’t kick my ass. On three.”

“Love you too, Chloe.” He says.

“One.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a huge bitch lately.”

“Two.”

“No one blames you, Victoria.”

“Three!”

You all pile out of the car, running up the steps towards Blackwell.

There are stags everywhere, moving like sickly shadows. They do not run, they do not charge, they walk slowly.

You can hear the twisting metal as they start to eat the car behind you. Your arms and legs pump, pushing you faster, towards the door.

It’s open, thank god, and you go pouring in to the empty hallways.

The whole thing is lit by red emergency lights, giving that dim, dark room effect. Your brain goes into overdrive.

The dark room. Kicking and screaming as you’re being dragged through the darkness. You break the glasses of the man holding you and he swears.

But, Chloe has your hand and is pulling you down the hall.

“I think we might be able to wipe out those deer with a few pipe bombs. Who has, a few dollars.”

Brooke backtracks to the vending machine.

You catch your breath in the science lab. Chloe and Warren barricade one of the doors, and set about looking for ingredients.

“You get the weed killer, I’ll get the sugar.” She says.

Victoria is chewing the skin around her nails.

“We need to go to the photography room.”

“Well, hurry I need duct tape too.”

Chloe and Warren don’t care about smashing through cabinets and breaking glass. Right, the deer aren’t zombies.

Brooke comes in with three soda cans.

“Come on.” You grab Victoria.

You cross the hall and see a shadow through the glass.

Someone’s in the photography room.

Victoria pushes through. Mark is standing rigid, staring at the ground below the window.

“Go print your picture.” Victoria says.

You see the tape is over by the printer too. Mark still doesn’t acknowledge that you’ve entered the room.

“This is her fault, you know.” He finally says.

Victoria grabs the tape, while you frantically sign into your account.

“If Maxine had just cooperated and not struggled, none of this would have happened.”

You butted your head against his chin. It knocked you both unsteady. His grip didn’t waiver. Your legs kicked out, but he grabbed the back of your collar and pushed.

Shoving you head first into the developing basin.

Chemicals coated your mouth and nose. They burned your eyes.

They burned his hands.

“You killed her.” You say.

You killed me.

Victoria drops the tape, “Nathan didn’t--”

“He was there in her final moments. She seemed to curse him. He couldn’t take the guilt.”

Victoria’s hands are over her mouth.

“Damn Caulfield couldn’t leave well enough alone.” He says.

Victoria hits him with a chair. He pushes back at it, but she charges forward pinning him in a corner.

She’s screaming or maybe you both are. He doesn’t fight back.

“What will this fighting solve? It’s the end of it all anyway.” He says.

“It’ll make me feel better.” Victoria says.

You don’t look. You print your picture out and ignore the sound of wet meat, and the smell of fresh iron. There is whimpering, and it stops. Then the hits sound wetter.

A selfie from six months ago. You were at the beach with some friends. A good moment to go back to.

“Let’s go.”

Her cashmere sweater is covered in blood. She breathes with these great sobbing heaves.

“Victoria, come on.”

She wipes her eyes, only succeeding in smearing blood across her cheeks.

“Whoever says revenge doesn’t feel good is fucking wrong.”

She drops the chair and follows you back to the classroom. There are deer at the end of the hall, creeping forward with their sneaky feet. Their blackened mouths are opening to whisper.

“She doesn’t belong.”

You charge into the science room.

“Someone please give me good news.” You slam the tape down.

“We have three pipe bombs, a blow torch, and my mom’s gun.” Chloe says.

The weapons sit on the desk in front of her like some options for a video game. Victoria enters the room smelling strongly of blood and lighting a cigarette.

“Holy shit, Victoria are you okay?”

She nods, eerily calm.

“She just killed Jefferson with a chair. I think she's in shock.”

They stare in frightened silence. Brooke and Warren back up, putting a desk between themselves and Victoria. She doesn’t seem to mind, and instead pauses to clean brain matter off her glasses.

“He killed Max.” Victoria says.

Chloe sobs. Warren punches the desk. Brooke covers her mouth.

“What’s our next move?” You say.

There’s no time for grief or revelation.

“Well, hopefully, you teleport back in time and this nightmare ends.”

“The deer are past the vending machines.” Victoria’s leaning out the door checking on their progress.

“Here goes.”

Warren and Victoria stand guard at the door. You sit on the desk and stare at the photo.

Focus. Remember how that day felt. Think about what you regret. What you need to do differently.

The world gets fuzzy. You can hear the crashing ocean, remember the sun on your face. Everything’s out of focus. You try to adjust it, but black spots appear on your vision like when you rewind back too far or too fast.

“No. No. No.” You shake the picture.

“Why isn’t it working?” Chloe says.

“Deer are very close.” Victoria reports.

You rub your temples, “I don’t know.”

It needs to be both of us.

“I think, I need a picture for Max to go back to too.”

“Does it have to be from the exact same day?” Brooke says.

“I don’t know. It would help.”

“When’s your picture from?”

You can hear the approaching click of hoofs. You’re out of time. You rewind to before trying with the photo.

“Rachel, come on.”

“It doesn’t work. I need a picture for Max to return to.”

“Victoria, please tell me you have something.”

She searches her pockets, frantic. She finds her wallet and checks it.

It’s a rumpled picture of the two of them at fourteen. Too long ago. Victoria’s in tears.

“I’m sorry. I have one in my room. We took it the day she…”

“We need to get to the dorms.”

Chloe trades Victoria the gun for a pipe bomb. You grab one of the others, groping in your pockets for a lighter.

Warren grabs the other, leaving Brooke the torch.

“Everyone make a break for the emergency exit.” Chloe says.

She runs out first, gun drawn, and kicks open the door. You follow, neck and neck with Brooke with Warren and Victoria taking up the rear.

You’re running. Eyes ahead, feet up, hopping over any obstacle. Just don’t look down. Go ahead.

There’s an explosion behind you and you know.

Victoria never left the building.

The part of you that is Max is screaming. We need to go back. Rewind. She doesn’t need to do this. Oh, God, Victoria, no.

But, you are Rachel, and you keep running.

You’re almost there.

There is a wall of stags blocking your path. Chloe fires at them, making pop-popping noises that cut through the too quiet night.

You fumble with your lighter but your palms are so sweaty. Brooke lights Warren’s bomb with her torch. He spins like a shot putter and throws it into the herd.

It explodes, taking enough with it to make a hole for you to run through.

You stagger run after them, Warren first, Brooke, Chloe, then you. There’s this dark cloud that smells like burnt rubber and coats your tongue and throat.

You hear a shout from ahead. Warren’s made it to the end of the hole, and there’s another stag.

It’s too late for him. Brooke’s screaming and setting the beast on fire. Chloe reaches for you. You drop the last pipe bomb at Brooke’s feet. If she needs it. Your eyes hurt from the smoke and unshed tears.

The dorm is locked, of fucking course, and you need to fumble with your key card to open it.

“Come on!” You shout.

The light goes green and the door unlocks with a click.

The third explosion comes as you enter the dorms. Everything seems calm here, untouched, like it’s just another night.

Any moment now, you’re going to bump into Kate practicing her violin, or Stella and Alyssa will be watching some popcorn flick in the common room.

Victoria’s room is unlocked. You inhale deeply as you enter. Chloe checks the chamber of her gun and swears. Two bullets left.

“We need to find the picture she took the day she died.” You say.

Rather, the words come out of your mouth, but you feel as if you are watching yourself say them.

“Shit. That could be any of these.” Chloe pulls at her hair.

“Do you remember what she was wearing last?”

“Jeans, hoodie, and a T-shirt. Guess what? That’s 80 percent of these.”

You’re looking at the photo walls. Some have younger looking versions of Max and Victoria. That helps.

“What would Victoria do with that specific picture. The last picture of Max?”

“Making me think like Victoria makes my brain wanna cry.”

Just being in this room so full of pain makes you wanna cry.

It wouldn’t be out for everyone to see. It’s too valuable to be somewhere someone could steal it.

But, it would be somewhere Victoria would have easy access.

Chloe’s sitting on the bed, pulling out box after box to look through.

You walk past her and lift up the pillow.

There it is. That has to be it.

Wrinkled at the edges. Victoria looks the same age, but with short blonde hair. Max’s eyes are crinkled. She looks like she’s laughing.

The world is going in and out of focus. Something taps at the window.

Oh god. The deer look like they’re trying to shift into some grotesque human hybrid.

“Lovely. Wendigos,” Chloe says, “The fuck is this, Hannibal?”

“I think this is gonna work.”

They’re knocking at the window at it’s so fucking creepy that you’re finding it hard to concentrate.

“I’m gonna put some music on.”

Victoria’s laptop is still open, and has power. Chloe hits play on itunes. The Pixies starts crooning from the tinny speakers.

“I’m sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.” Chloe says.

“For what it’s worth, I really like you.” You say.

She smiles, but tears are streaming down her face. You wipe them away with your thumbs.

“What’s gonna happen to you after I go back?” You say.

“I don’t know. I really hope there’s like a white universe fixing light and then this stops. Otherwise, it’s really gonna suck.

A black deer hand breaks through the window.

Chloe hisses, “Shit. We gotta speed this up.”

You kiss her.

“Wanna go out with a Fight Club reference?” You say.

“God, you are so fucking cool.”

You hold her hand and say, “You met me at a very strange time in my life.”

She laughs.

You stare at the pictures in your hand. The window breaks open, but you do not hear it. Chloe fires the gun, but you do not hear it.

You hear the crying of seagulls. You hear Kate getting ready next door.

You’re being pulled apart at the seams and the universe with you.

Your head will collapse if there’s nothing in it and you’ll ask yourself--

--where is my mind?

The world is fuzzy with the flash. Your head feels stuffed with cotton and you blink away stars. You are seventeen years old again.

Victoria’s looking down at you with concern.

“Everything okay, Mad Max?”

You can feel the warmth of her hip through her shirt. The cotton is soft. A breeze filters in through the window tossing your hair. Victoria’s dropping the camera on the bed and grabbing your face.

“Max? You look really out of it.”

You lean into the feeling of her palms. They’re dry and warm. You want to pour yourself into the grooves of her handprints. You wrap your own hands around them and turn your head to kiss a palm.

God, the feeling of skin on skin, your lips like velvet against her.

You drag your hands up her arms to her shoulders, cup them, and trail down her back, still sensitive from the scratches you left. She shivers.

“Baby, you’re scaring me.” She says.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe.

She gathers you in her arms and you just settle against her chest for the longest time. You inhale the scent of her neck and she buries her nose in your hair. You feel like crying and you’re not sure why.

“I just really need you close right now.”

“Work for me.” She laughs.

“I mean it, I always need you close. Always.”

“I’m going to remember that for the next time you get irritated that I’m being too clingy.”

There’s something you’re supposed to do today. What is it?

Oh yeah, that algebra test.

Your phone rings and you groan. Victoria lets you go. You grab your phone off the bed and push Victoria down onto it, sitting on her lap as she goes.

Unknown Number from California. Probably a telemarketer. There’s something in you demanding that you answer it. It could be a dealer or gallery asking for your work.

“H’yello?”

“Hi, is this Max Caulfield? My name is Rachel Amber. We’re gonna meet, hopefully, in about six months. Listen. You can’t go to Nathan Prescott’s house tonight. It sets in motion a fucked up universe and basically the end of the world. Tell Victoria that the party won’t happen if you work on the banners there anyway. Um… I don’t know if I was supposed to go into that much detail. Don’t go over there.”

You go from an incredulous smile to having it slide off your face. It’s coming back to you. Having your head dunked in the developing chemicals. Gasping. Everything burned.

You’re shaking.

“Thank you, Rachel.”

“Hey, it isn’t supposed to happen, okay? The world gets all topsy turvy when it does. So, don’t worry that you’re going to fuck things up.”

You swallow and hang up. Victoria looks down at you, giving her a cute double chin.

“Everything okay?”

“I can’t go to Nathan Prescott’s house tonight.” You say.

“Okay, why?”

“I die if I do. Just got the heads up from a partner in time.”

Victoria’s brow furrows because the idea is hard to comprehend for her. You’re here and now. Her hands grip your legs. She starts tearing up.

“Max, this better not be a fucking joke.”

“I wish. That future is awful. I don’t fully die, I get stuck in between places, so I can see and hear you, but you can’t see or hear me, and we can’t touch. I watched you in so much pain. My parents. Vic, we can’t let that future happen.”

You lie down on her. Her hands are digging into the flesh of your back, bringing you closer. Her breathing is ragged inhales and sharp exhales. You don’t need to feel the wet, fat tears to know how hard she’s crying.

“I’ll do anything to keep you alive.”

Her phone buzzes. She doesn’t reach for it, not wanting to let go of you for a second. As if letting go of you will result in you dying then and there.

The phone rings. You groan and wriggle like a cat winding up to leap. She keeps her hands around you and you grab her phone.

It’s Courtney. You hit speakerphone.

“Hey, Victoria, I screwed up and spent all last night writing my paper and totally blanked on making banners for the dance.”

“Don’t worry about it, Court. We’ll just print out posters.” Victoria says.

Courtney pauses in her confusion, “Okay, but just yesterday you were being super anal about it being done.”

“My priorities have changed. Good luck with your paper, Court.”

Another pause. You grab one of Victoria’s earlobes with your teeth. She smiles and runs a thumb over your chin and lower lip.

“Who are you and what have you done with Victoria?”

“I am Max and I have done many things with Victoria, and I intend to do many more things after she hangs up this call.” You hiss into the receiver.

“Alright, whatever.” Courtney hangs up.

Your jeans are shoved down your legs, you kick them off and you’re pushing her out of her shirt. The polaroid camera from William slides until it’s tumbling off the edge. You don’t pause to check its state. It’s just a camera.

You’re here and you’re alive. You can touch and taste and smell.

Touch. The feeling of soft thighs cradling your cheeks. Hair being tugged.

Taste. Skin, salty. Victoria’s nectar, bitter and slick on your tongue.

Smell. Savoury, heady, like sweat and animal. Then, the crook of her neck, artificial spice and flower. Her chest is heaving and she holds your head in place.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She says.

“Be really sad.” You say with your chin resting on her chest.

“That’s a given. I mean, in that future, I wonder what happened to me.”

“You were really sad. You had to be dragged out of your dorm and you wore lots of black and my old clothes.”

You can’t stop stroking her skin. You need to assign every groove, knick, and scar to touch memory again. You’ve been careless and have forgotten the location of the trio of freckles on her lower back.

Stretch marks on her thighs and hips, a few burn scars on her hands and wrists.

One on her chest from where you accidentally gouged her with your braces. That makes you smile. You drop kisses to each shoulder, like rain dappling her skin. It could be that or your tears.

Every breath is an airy sigh.

Her fingers are raking your hair back.

“Max, stay with me.” Victoria pulls you up to eye level.

“Always. I mean it.”

Your alarm for Algebra goes off. You swipe your phone and grunt, resting your chin on the centre of her collarbone.

“Should I risk leaving this room to go to math. What if something happens to me on the way? What if the universe is holding the axe over me?”

You can’t breathe.

“Max, look at me.”

The tunnel vision her eyes give you have you taking breaths in and out.

“If you were supposed to die today, a time traveler wouldn’t call you to tell you otherwise.”

But it sounds like she’s trying to reassure herself.

“Let’s agree to not leave this room, preferably not this bed, today without the other?”

You nod, feeling your breathing even out. You want to stay close, but your bodies piled together is too hot. You’re going to get sticky. You should shower.

“Wanna go take a shower?”

She checks the time. You’ve missed your first classes.

“Yeah, lets go.”

You drink orange pop under the spray because you’re dehydrated and this might be your last day on Earth.

If that’s true, then you’d think that you’d like to do some huge, dramatic gesture. Robbing a bank or standing in two places at once, maybe throwing a party.

All of that kinda pales in comparison to spending time just hanging out with your favourite person in the world.

You lie in bed watching Eureka Seven’s unabashed optimism at true love being the power that stops the end of the world. Or, you’re watching it, Victoria is watching you closely.

“This is your favourite episode.” You say.

Her eyes look black in this light. She kisses your cheek. You can feel her breath on your ear with each exhale.

“Wanna order a pizza?”

“Whatever you like.” She kisses you again.

Certainly not Pad Thai. That’s a bad omen. At least for today. You’re not giving up delicious peanut noodles out of some death superstition.

You check the time as you call, 5:30 already? Jesus, you really have wasted the whole day.

Not a waste. This is all you wished for in you life as a ghost. Just one more day together.

She twines her fingers with yours and you kiss each tip. You’ve changed your mind. There’s something else you need to do.

You need to be brave.

“Baby, let’s go to my house for dinner.”

Victoria’s eye widen and she swallows hard. The route to your house doesn’t go anywhere near Prescott Manor, but fear does not know logic. Your mind is overplaying images of your car being sucked into a warp dragging you there, to your death. Of all roads leading to Rome and being trapped into this loop until eventually you strangle yourself in the crib.

“I disappeared from their lives too.”

The sun is setting to a lovely pink-orange. You snap a picture, capturing you own reflections in the window. It gives you a smile. Youth shuffles onto your iPod and Victoria does not cry, she changes the song. You tap your fingers along with Ani Difranco’s staccato guitar. She’s a beast, you hope you can be that good someday.

Victoria honks as she see’s William’s car. He’s standing outside the diner waiting for Joyce. You wave.

The neighbour’s cat is in the driveway, the car chasing it back over the fence. The AUX cuts with the engine.

The front door is ajar, with a literal jar holding the screen door open.

“Nice visual pun!” You shout.

“Thanks!” Dad says.

He’s got a one of the old armchairs in his hands and he’s trying to maneuver it through the door.

“Oh good, you’ve brought Victoria with you. I could use an extra pair of hands.”

She sighs and flips you off. You grin and kiss her cheek. You’re too small and feeble to lift big comfy couches or chairs. Instead, you visit Mom in the kitchen.

“Hey.” You hug her from behind.

You bury your face into the back of her flannel collar. As an adult, you know that your parents can’t keep you safe from everything, but that doesn’t stop the rush of calm that comes with scent memory.

“Hey, got a call from your school today. Apparently you missed,” She does her best imitation of the automated voice mail, “Block 1, Block 2, Block, 3, Block 4, Block 5.”

You dig your head into the fridge looking for salad ingredients.

“Yeah, had a weird feeling about today.”

Mom pulls the fridge door away to look at you.

“A weird feeling, Maxine Caulfield?”

That’s her no-nonsense voice.

“I dreamed I died,” You say “Not just one of those falling dreams, but an elaborate death scenario. And it all started today. Me dying, that is. So, I got kinda scared, and I told Victoria about it and she got really scared, so we spent the day in bed.”

Your parents know the two of you are intimate. You’ve been having grown up sleepovers since you were sixteen(as far as they know). Still, it feels weird to insinuate it.

Her brow is furrowed and her lips are in a thin line. It’s her worried look, and yours, actually.

“That does sound like a good reason to hide from the world for a day.” She says.

“I figure that our otherwise spotless records can compensate for skipping one day.”

You hear swearing from the front lawn. A look out the kitchen window shows that, while no one is injured, the loveseat has taken a dive into the tomatoes. You wince.

“I wouldn’t call it spotless, but you’re off the hook. Don’t do it again, etc, etc.”

“Barring another death scare, I think we’re good.”

In storms ‘the men’ to wash years worth of dust off their hands. Victoria’s hands are still wet when Mom hugs her, before she gives Dad a kiss.

“I know where your loyalties lie.” Dad says.

He’s faux pouting with his arms folded and his nose in the air.

Mom shoves him towards the dining room.

“I was just thanking our hero, here. Victoria saved Max’s life today.”

Victoria looks down at you and groans, “You told your mom?”

“Turns out the school is a fucking narc.”

Dad looks between the three of you for an explanation.

Mom says, “Apparently, Max had an elaborate death dream last night, and our Victoria here,” She pinches Victoria’s cheek, “Kept her safe all day.”

She’s got her eyes and head down looking adorably humble.

Dad goes upstairs and Mom rolls her eyes.

“Victoria, hun, Jack was supposed to set the table, would you mind reminding him.”

She looks very uncomfortable at that idea. You pat her back with a cucumber stained hand.

“Trade you jobs?” You say.

Her knife skills are subpar, but she takes your spot at the cutting board. You take the stairs two at a time until you’re at your parents room.

“Hey, can you save your silent fight with Mom for another day and go set the table?”

He’s leaning against the window. He pushes off with a sigh. Dad ruffles your hair on his way out.

“Yes, Boss.”

But his tone says that he’s still pissy. You’d wonder what they were fighting about before you got here, if it weren’t always money or personal issues.

Oh, and then there was the time you heard Dad blame Mom for your autism when you were like ten. She still hasn’t forgiven him for that.

You follow him down the stairs and see Victoria hovering by the door.

“Your parents are having a spat.” She says.

You shrug and follow her into the dining room.

Dinner is a tense affair. You and Victoria do most of the talking while Mom smiles coldly behind her wine glass and Dad’s eyes are on the table.

After cleaning up you chase Victoria upstairs to your room with the promise of studying. She puts on one of your baggier shirts and shorts as pyjamas.

“We were undressed all day and now you’re getting back into pyjamas?”

You’re checking Facebook. She’s on your bed re-reading Saga.

Logan has sent you a message.

“Max stop turning the other girls gay, it’s not fair.”

“logan. bro. you know how awesome and soft girls are. it’s not my fault. uwu”

“Okay, but stop playing guitar around them. Like all the girls in Math class were talking about how hot you are and that Victoria’s so lucky.”

“dude, just learn guitar. it’s what took me from ‘nerdy spaz with braces’ to whatever they’re calling me now.”

“The short hot photography lesbian.”

“siiiiicccckkkk”

You turn around in your seat, “Hey Victoria, I’m the short, hot photography lesbian!”

“This is news?”

“That’s how people identify me now.”

“How do they identify me?”

You type back to Logan.

“is victoria the tall hot photography lesbian?”

“...........ish.”

“what is she”

“The angry big handed photography lesbian.”

You snort too loudly and Victoria’s getting up to see. You put a hand over the screen, she’s trying to drag it away.

“Max, let me see!”

“Nooooo.”

You get up and push at her hands until she’s stumbling back onto the bed. You attack her neck with snuffly little bites.

“We should study.” She says.

“The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

Her phone rings. You sit back on your heels and hand it to her. Oh yeah, the gallery.

“Hello?” Victoria says.

You watch the way she lights up hearing that they want more of her photos. You grab your camera and take a few pictures. She flips you off, mouthing ‘I am on the phone’.

You get up and sort through the photos of hers that you have in your room. There’s a beautiful set she took of the waterfall near the junkyard. She got a lot of interesting negative space with the trees. You drop them in a pile on the bed while she’s finishing up thanking them.

“How did you know?” She says.

“I’m from the future, duh.”

“Then what am I gonna do next?”

“Scan and email these to the gallery?”

She slaps you on the ass.

“Or that.”

The clock reads 11:30 when you hear sirens. Victoria covers you with her body. You flatten yourself against the mattress. Your mind and pulse are racing. What if they’re after you. They know you’re not supposed to be here?

The gaping jaws of those nightmare stags. How they dripped with black bile.

Victoria stands and totters over to the window. She pushes open the curtains.

“Weird.” She says.

“What?”

“There’s a family of deer in the yard. Hang on, let me get my camera.”

“Get down!”

“Why?”

“In that other universe the deer weren’t what the seemed. They were interdimensional anomaly killing demons.”

She turns all the way around and closes the curtains tight. Like, you really appreciate that instead of looking at you like a crazy person or even questioning it, she’s just like “nope, fuck that”.

“Wait, seriously?” She backs away from the window.

You tug her back into bed on top of you.

“Yeah, it was fucked up. You got killed by a bunch.”

You bite your tongue and look at the wall. Shouldn’t have said that.

“I died?”

You roll your head back to look at her. She pokes you in the cheek.

“Yeah. You sacrificed yourself so we could all come back and try again… I think you took out a bunch of them. We heard a big explosion. You were carrying a pipe bomb...”

She tips off you to stare at the glowing plastic stars on the ceiling.

“Hhhhholy fuck.” Her hands cover her eyes.

“It was awful.”

“Alternate future me was a total badass.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

You lie awake listening for that horrible crunch of the stags busting down the door and eating your parents, thundering up the stairs.

Instead, more sirens.

“Well, I was dead by this time last round.”

Victoria clings to you.

“Tell me about that other world.” She says.

You look at her from under your eyelids. Will telling the whole story somehow rupture space and time? Or will it just sound like some episode of Doctor Who. You run your hand over your mouth a few times. Well, the truth hasn’t killed you yet.

“I got killed at Nathan’s house, but I used my powers to leave my body, so I didn’t fully die. Instead I became a kind of ghost or… poltergeist? The consensus was that one of the Prescotts killed me, but it was actually Mark Jefferson.”

“Wait, the photographer?”

You turn your head to look at her, she’s squinting in confusion.

“I know, right? He’s friends with Nathan’s dad. They sacrifice girls in the dark room for some fucked up thing. I think it has to do with my time travel powers.”

“You think?”

“Well, shit, Victoria. It’s not like some time wizard showed up and gave me the whole story. This is pieced together from what I managed to learn from Nathan, Brooke’s experiments, and scary deer.”

Victoria is silent.

“I said ‘time wizard’ and now you’re thinking about Prisoner of Azkaban.”

She rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms, shrugging.

“I just don’t understand why Fred and George didn’t mention that a dead man was sleeping with their brother for years. You’d think that would raise a few red flags. Or why they didn’t notice that Mad Eye Moody was named Barty Crouch Jr.”

“I’m seriously telling you about my own time travel adventure and you’re picking apart plot holes in Harry Potter.” You dip your chin against your chest.

The little light that’s leaking in through the curtains catches on her wet cheeks. She takes a shaky breath.

“Picking apart Harry Potter is keeping me from having a full on meltdown right now. Like, Max, you’re telling me about a world where we died.”

“You died twice, actually.”

She grips your shoulder so hard it hurts, “Not helping.”

“Well, everyone died except like… Chloe and Rachel. Not sure what happened to the bus full of Blackwell students or the people in the diner. I mean, I assume they got eaten by killer deer, but the deer seemed to be solely after people who they thought didn’t belong in that universe… so, who knows, maybe they were fine.”

You snort and wriggle on the bed.

“What is your problem, Weirdo?”

“Nothing. Just picturing Road Warrior versions of Blackwell students. Dana with rocket skates and a nail bat. Kate turning her violin into a crossbow.”

“So, to summarize. You died, I was sad--”

“Hella sad.”

“Hella sad, time deer came into the picture and started eating everything--”

“Oh, wait, I forgot to mention that I could possess female deer and we kinda made out like that.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. You are a goddamned liar, Max Caulfield.” She hits you with a pillow.

“One hundred percent true. You were so glad to see me that you were kissing my muzzle and I was licking your face. So, you did fulfil your promise of loving me no matter what shape or form. Kudos.”

She grunts, “Anything else?”

“I possessed Rachel to the point where she got my powers and I stopped being a ghost and was more like a squatter in her head. Made it awkward when she was making out with Chloe.”

You wait for a response. Nothing. Not the best sign.

“Anyway, Nathan killed you by accident, Rachel rewound and saved you, then Nathan killed himself on purpose, you killed Jefferson, then you blew yourself up with a bunch of nightmare deer, Warren got eaten and Brooke took herself out with the deer that ate Warren.”

Victoria sniffs loudly. She pulls your body on top of hers, she’s wrapped around you like a protective python.

“Heavy shit.” You say.

That earns a wet chuckle.

“Promise me you won’t die in your sleep.” She mumbles.

“Always.”

--

The morning does come. It’s been getting a lot warmer in the mornings and this one is no different. You awake to the chorus of your alarm, Victoria’s alarm, and your Dad leaving for work.

You shower together to save time and water. Mom’s at the table talking to a client on the phone when you get downstairs.

You grab coffee and apples for you and your lady love for breakfast. Mom finishes her call.

“Did you hear? The Prescott’s house burned down last night.”

Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach.

“Is that what the sirens were about?”

Mom sips her coffee, “Mhm, apparently the father had a friend over and they dropped a cigarette indoors. Too drunk to notice.”

Nathan poured his father and Mark some scotch, dumping the rohypnol into the glasses and swirling them around. He handed one to his old man, head down, avoiding eye contact.

“I thought your friends were coming over tonight.”

“Cancelled. Big test tomorrow.”

The effects of the drugs didn’t take long. Not with that high of a dose. He waited until they were sluggish before dumping the rest of the scotch on them.

“What the hell are you doing, Boy?” His father slurred.

Nathan lit a whole carton of carton of cigarettes and dropped them on the men.

“Nathan, please, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

He said nothing as he ascended the stairs and locked the door. Nathan got in his car and drove off to the diner. There he sat and ate a whole sweet potato pie waiting for the emergency vehicles to drive by.

The vision hits you like it’s your own. You rub your own temples. Holy balls.

Victoria enters the kitchen wearing your ‘significant otter’ shirt, shorts and sneakers.

“What’s up?”

“Nathan’s house burned down last night. His dad was still in it.”

She breathes out slowly and sharply. Your mother mistakes it for grief. She hugs Victoria. Over your mother’s shoulder, her eyes widen. You mouth, ‘I know’ at her.

There’s a knock at the door.

You go to open it, but Victoria’s still in ‘protect the bae’ mode and shoves past you.

It’s Nathan looking exhausted, but happier than you’ve ever seen him.

“My father’s dead.”

“I’m sorry, Nathan.”

He meets your eye and there’s that tired recognition. Does he remember…?

“We need to get rid of it.” He says pointing to your hand.

“Yeah. Agreed.”

Curious, Mom comes to the door.

“Oh my goodness, Nathan, are you okay? Can I get you a coffee?”

He brushes a hand over his hair. A shy gesture.

“I’m okay, Mrs. C. Thanks though.”

She nods, arms folded. Mom and Nathan met once or twice in passing. They’re not friendly, but Mom does like to be appropriate when someone’s whole life has just gone up in smoke.

“Maxine, let your friend in.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. C. I was just stopping by to give Max the homework she missed before class. You have a good day.”

He turns on his heel and heads back to his car.

You lean against Victoria, watching him leave.

“We should get going too.” You say.

“Yeah, do you wanna drive? I have to write out a few essays on my phone.”

“The drive is like fifteen minutes.”

She’s already finishing her coffee and has her phone out.

“Okay, we’re going to school now, Mom. Love you.”

Every day is the first day of the rest of your life except for one.

You need to remember that now. Say what you need to say to the people you love. Make it so they have no doubt once you’re gone. And, you know where to start.

Turning on the ignition, you brush a thumb against Victoria’s bare shoulder.

“You know, you’re my dream girl, right?”

She looks up from her phone, “Are you getting all sappy on me?”

You pull out of the driveway, “I just want you to know that whenever I’m making fun of your hands or calling you my garbage wife, what I mean is that you’re perfect to me… and I wanna marry you.”

You stop at the curb and pull the ring out of your hoodie pocket. It’s nothing too fancy, not ‘two months paycheques’ or whatever. It’s gold with a citrine at the centre.

She’s got tears stuck to her eyelashes and she whacks you with a huge hand.

“You asshole!”

You can’t bite back the grin anymore, nor the cackle that bubbles up inside you.

“Max! I had a fucking carriage ride planned. Catacombs, Max. I was going to ask you to marry me in a tomb, because you said it’d be romantic when we were fifteen.”

You start driving again, still snickering as she punches the glove compartment.

“Now we can enjoy those things without you getting stressed out over whether or not I’ll say yes.”

“I hired engagement photographers!”

“For a tomb? They don’t let you use flash photography down there.”

Her essays are forgotten, she’s grumbling and putting the ring on and trying really hard to not smile.

“No, for the carriage ride,” She looks at it gleaming in the sunlight, “When did you get this?”

“Remember that time you lost me in the mall and called yourself ‘Daddy’ on the Help Desk announcement?”

You’re seventeen years old and full of life. It’s been a week since the Prescott house burned down, but you can still feel those cold fingers of fear on the back of your neck. You check your shoulder a lot now, and cross the street if you see a buck.

You wake up to morning breath on your face and a text from Nathan.

“I know how to get rid of it. Meet me by the lighthouse after school.”

Your left hand, now heavier with the weight of the solid jade ring. You haven’t reversed time in days, not since you accidentally stepped on a dog’s paw. That needed to be undone. Dogs toes should be safe.

“ok. bringing wifey.”

“w/e”

You roll over to blow air onto Victoria’s eyes until she’s annoyed enough to wake up. The alarm beats you to the punch. She groans and a large paw reaches out to cover your face.

“If you’re going to wake me up by blowing me, it better be the other way.”

You lick her palm, earning a disgusted noise and squished cheeks.

“I could rewind time and wake you up that way.”

Her body goes rigid at the suggestion. She gets up and sets about getting dressed. You use your cellphone to capture a shot of her rolling on stockings. She’s making an ‘A’ shape with her body and sunlit dust motes dance around her legs.

All through class your knee is going wild. You’re tapping your pencil to the rhythm of your twitchy nerves. Today’s the day, no more going back, no more freezing. Just a normal life. You never did wreck a sex shop. Too late now.

Victoria’s being kind of hilarious with her engagement ring by bringing her left hand into view as much as possible. She answers questions more frequently just to show it off. You, on the other hand, settle for running your ring over your lips and thumb.

You told Chloe about your alternate universe fling into the future. Her response was to pat your head and say, ‘okay, Max’. So, you asked Rachel to text her so she’d believe you.

Now, Chloe is always on her phone.

The drive up to the lighthouse is crackling with tension. You’re sitting shotgun, fiddling with the AUX cord. You can tell that both Chloe and Victoria are distracted because neither complain about how indie your music gets. Either that of you’ve trained them too well.

Nathan’s sitting on the bench smoking. You text him instead of startling him by yelling or touching him. He puts his butt out with his heel and puts a fresh cigarette behind his ear.

He looks good. Softer and more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. He leads you to the building by the lighthouse. There’s a weird metallic rattling inside. He holds up a set of keys and unlocks it.

You hug him. He tenses up, raising his shoulders, breathing shallowly, unsure of what to do. He pats your back a little. You pat his hair.

Chloe and Victoria stare between you. It’s a little out of left field, but despite everything, you feel sorry for the guy, and you’re glad he’s okay.

The metal rattling is coming from a grate over top of what looks like a hole in the ground.

“Nope. Nonononono.” You hold up both hands, “Not going anywhere near that.”

“We have to. That’s where the power comes from.” Nathan says.

“There is probably lava and CHUD down there.”

Nathan opens the grate.

“Or maybe it’s the gate to hell.” Chloe offers.

“You aren’t helping.” Victoria says.

“I promise you, it’s full of graffiti and this weird hum, but that’s about it.” Nathan says.

You, Nathan, and Victoria will be going down. Chloe’s staying out to call the cops if you’re gone longer than an hour, or to shoot Nathan if he emerges without you or Victoria.

“Keep me updated as long as you can.” She says.

You take a deep breath and enter the abyss.

It’s pretty well lit for a tunnel underground. You just keep your eyes on Victoria’s back.

Polaroid Corporation, founded on Edwin H. Land’s belief that consumer markets should be created around inventions generated by scientific research, is a world leader in instant photography. The company manufactures and sells more than 50 types of film and more than 100 cameras and instant camera accessories. Instant photography products, since their 1948 debut, have consistently provided the bulk of Polaroid’s income.

You’re clicking your sinuses and just reciting these facts in your head when you bump into Victoria’s back.

“This is the spot. I stole my dad’s journal from his high school days. The original Vortex Club was exploring down here when they found that.”

He points to big ass scary looking wall covered in what looks like latin and outdated graffiti. In the centre is a glowing left handprint.

Victoria touches the wall, her lips are moving and her brow is furrowed.

“Are you trying to read the latin?” Nathan says, “Don’t tell me that’s one of the ten languages you speak.”

She shakes her head, “It’s five, and, no, but I do speak French, Spanish, and a little Italian. Romantic languages have latin roots. I’m getting like, every fifth word. Context would help.”

“It doesn’t matter. My dad and his friends already translated it. Control time with the ‘Hand of God’. Side notes include, it’s powered by human life force, so don’t overuse it or it will kill you. It can be passed through contact... and, something about if you fuck with the time stream then some kind of protectors will come and undo the damage you’ve done.”

Victoria whimpers and looks at you. You should be fine, you haven’t abused the power (much). You’re just glad you ignored all of Chloe’s suggestions of what to do with it. That would explain the ‘non-lethal’ sacrifices at the Prescott house.

“Does it say anything about them being scary nightmare deer?”

“No, it does say that the punishment fits the criminal, or whatever that means,” He snaps the book shut, “Anyway, just put your hand on the rock and try to rewind.”

You blow out a breath and brush past Victoria on your way. Nathan’s foot is tapping and he’s worrying the pages with his fingers.

The stone is smooth and warm against your hand. Your whole body is shaking so hard your teeth chatter.

“Should I say an incantation?” You say.

“Rewind Max.” Nathan says.

Okay. Here goes.

It doesn’t hurt, per se, it does feel like your hand is taking you on a one person roller coaster ride. The lurching makes your ears pop and you bite your tongue. It tastes like pennies. It’s too much. You’re going to throw up. How long have you been here? Thousands of years? Since the dawn of time?

Everything stops and you’re panting with a bleeding mouth against the wall. The hand glows pale blue and lights up the latin. Then, silence, and the brightness fades. The gravity holding your hand in place lets go of it like pulling your hand out of sticky mud.

Victoria catches you as you stumble and collapse.

“Did it work?” You all say.

You hold out your left hand, smiling at the jade ring and try to rewind.

Nothing, just the sound of air from the top of the tunnel.

“I’m buying this fucking place and filling it with concrete.” Nathan says.

He waits for you to be able to stand before leaving. Victoria is content to piggyback you to the surface.

“Baby, I can walk.”

“Max, let me have this.”

Chloe’s throwing up outside.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Chloe gives you a thumbs up.

“I was so nervous I had like four smokes in ten minutes.” She says.

Victoria lets you down and you take a deep breath of the fresh air.

The sun is full over the lighthouse, thin shadows stick to the edges of their masters. The wind wraps around you and lets go with such a strong gust that you can’t help but lean back and whoop.

Arms wrap around your middle, tethering you to the earth. You tip your head back to catch Victoria’s descending lips. Your hands cover hers, engagement rings clicking together.

Nathan shakes his head, freedom dawning on him. He screams into the wind and punches the air.

Chloe howls along with him.

It’s a perfect moment to freeze time.

You take a photo.