Part 1: Finding Answers
November 19th, 2013
8:26 P.M.
Michael's P.O.V.
'I hate this weather.' That singular thought goes through my head as though on repeat, over and over, a mantra chanted internally as to preventing me from forgetting just how much I loathe the humidity. How the air clings to your skin, cloaking you in a layer of sludge. Making it feel as though the air itself was but a cup of water away from being nothing more than a swimming pool.
I take out a half emptied pack of cigarettes from my front pocket and pull out a single menthol from a crumpled and battered carton, placing it between my lips as I flick open the zippo and inhale the minty smoke into my mouth. I hold for a second before exhaling it through the gaps in my teeth, keeping my jaw clenched tight. The sounds of frogs, insects and god knows what else crawls in this swampy backroad country sure are active tonight. Filling the air with chirps, croaks and noises that lack a proper adjective to truly explain whatever the hell kind of noise they are exuding. Even at 8:30 you'd think they've all gotten up at once to make as much of a ruckus as they possibly could. Despite that tough, it's almost peaceful, the hums of a thousand different creatures letting loose into the soupy November Georgia air, but whatever tranquility may've been found is quickly tossed aside as I look back over to the engine of my 2009 Lincoln MKZ spewing smoke, billowing out of the hood of the car and leaving me to deal with the humid hellscape that is the state of Georgia. Even in November, it feels as though the air is made of boiling water.
I should be at Atlanta International right now, catching a flight to Oregon. Fate, however, would have other plans for me.
"fffffffFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" I scream at the top of my lungs as I kick the driver side door of my car. Angry that I spent a king's fortune on this fucking lemon. Of course, it wasn't like it was my money per se, but still! I stole it fair and square!
Waiting from Triple A is a living hell, and I am all out of patients. However, my spirit is slightly lifted as I see the flashing orange lights of a tow truck making its way towards me. A convoy of two vehicles stop in the road to greet me, the tow truck drive tips his hat at me, not uttering a word as he gets to work hooking up my 'Luxury' vehicle to his tow truck as a person in a Ford Focus steps out to greet me. She is a petite young woman with a heavy southern drawl. Of course, what else is there to expect from this state?
"Well, hello thea dawlin', ma names Tammy, and I'm terribly sorry 'bout your car." she says sympathetically. "Would you like me to take you to the repair shop? Or to a hotel?" She asks.
With annoyance audible in my voice, I respond to her with, "No, the airport, if you will." I didn't mean to sound rude, and she was extraordinarily polite, but it was late, I was hot, and I wanted the fuck out of Georgia.
"Well, sir, what 'bout your car?" She asked, confused about my request. "We can't just leave it in the state unattended."
"Can't you put it in an impound or something? Maybe stuff it in an empty parking garage?" I said with a mix of snark and venom. "I'll collect it at some point, but I need to catch a flight ASAP. It's an emergency." I said, my tone again coming off as rude and impatient.
Her face turns a bit sour, not liking my tone and how I am treating her, considering she is only here to help. I notice this, and take a deep breath, trying to ready myself to apologize.
"I-I'm sorry about being a dick, it's just… my mother is in the hospital, and I'm worried sick, and I NEED to get to that flight so-" I say to her, lying through my teeth of course, but she believes it and interrupts me nonetheless.
"OH MY! I am so sorry about that, I had no idea." She says, her face changing quickly from a scowl to shock and empathy. "Let's just get you to that Airport, Atlanta, right? We'll sort out this car business later. If I'd've know..."
"No, its ok. I… just wanna get to see my ma. And yes, Atlanta International, please." I said as she opened the passenger side door for me.
I give nod and we get into the car and take off to the airport. We have some smalltalk on our way to the airport, I spin a story about how my mother has cancer and may not have too much time left. She buys it all, of course. I am a great actor. Or, rather, a great liar. I know, I know, lying is wrong but… fuck it, why tell the truth to someone I'll never see again. Might as well just fill the dead air with something, even if it's just bullshit.
About two and a half hours later we arrive at Atlanta International and I exchange my goodbyes with the kind lady who drove my ass all the way here and give her a $50 tip for the ride. She said she shouldn't take it, but I insisted. After making my way through the terminal, the security gate was before me. So, I did what I had to, when I was sure nobody was watching and no camera was on me, I lifted my hand and watched as time halted to a stop. Everyone remained in place, and the world slightly glittered, like it was being held in place with crystals. I walked passed the half asleep looking TSA guy and made my way to the platform to Washington State, as the flight to Oregon had already taken off, and I could simply drive the rest of the way from seattle to what used to be the small coastal town of Arcadia Bay. There were answers there, I could feel it.
I knew what happened, even if nobody else seemed to. Weird occurances followed by a tragic natural disaster which wiped out a whole fucking town. Yeah, all too familiar. Someone has got themselves some fancy new abilities, and I fully intend to find out who. I need answers, and this would probably be the best possible way to find out if I am truly alone in this.
Am I the only one with powers? Maybe this ain't what I think it is, but I need to find out for sure, and it ain't like I got a whole helluva lot going on anyways. As I walk into the Terminal for the flight to Washington, I see that right then and there they are already starting to board. Again, I freeze time. I think about making my way to the cargo hold… but fuck it. I walk back down to where I would buy the tickets, if I were a good person. And instead lift my hand slightly in front of one of the computers, and doing so it springs back to life as I restart time in the small area in front of me. This… isn't my first time using my powers to get onto a plane free of charge. And because of that, I'm basically a fucking pro at printing myself out tickets at this point. As I look over the flight manifest, I see that there is a seat open in first class.
"Hmm" I vocalize out loud. "Should I… Why the fuck not?" I say as I print myself a first class ticket.
So again, I walk past the TSA, through the shopping mall masquerading as an Airport, stopping only to steal some shit from the open cash register in the Chick-Fil-A, as well as a Cinnabon which I scarfe down like a wild animal. As I finally make my way to my final destination. I hide behind a pillar and restart time once again. I then sprint over to the lady checking tickets.
"Sorry miss, I know first class has already boarded, but I REALLY had to take a… well, nevermind that, may I?" I ask with a feigned nervous smile. The lady while at first looking mildly annoyed, quickly changes her tone to worry as she looks at my face.
"Sir, your nose is… do you n-need to?" She stammers to ask me a question, as I take my hand to my nose only to feel a trail of blood running down my upper lip.
"Oh! Sorry miss, nothing to worry about." I say as I brush away the blood. "I just have a capillary problem in my nose, where occasionally a blood vessel will burst, it's nothing that a tissue can't fix." I say as I wipe my nose with a handkerchief I pull from my pocket. What I just told her of course is a load of shit, hell, I guarantee that it probably doesn't even make sense in any meaningful way. Just a bunch of words that sounded official, so I strung em together and luckily the ticket collector bought it. I boarded the plane in first class. Now, time to make my way to what remains of Arcadia Bay.
I sit in my luxurious seat and order a glass of some champagne that I'll be damned if I can pronounce the name of. I recline my head backwards after finishing my drink and quietly say out loud. "Time to find whoever the other time lord is… if this even is what I believe it to be..." But if it is, I want to know who just summoned a fucking tornado to turn the small town into a fucking Jackson Pollock painting.
