Chapter 8
"I don't like this."
:
Connor turned into a side street and pulled up as close as he could to a familiar front door. "Here we are, Home Sweet Home," he said cheerfully, turning off the engine and pulling out the key.
Cutter sat transfixed. It was the same house he'd left, what? Was it only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago. He stared through the windscreen and experienced a momentary flash of double vision - his home overlaid with a house that belonged to a stranger. But they were one and the same.
The sickeningly familiar feeling of panic started creeping up on him again and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply in an effort to slow his heart rate. He was getting so tired of this – the constant fear and uncertainty. If he didn't get to grips with his new reality soon the stress would kill him before any creature got the chance.
"Professor?"
Cutter felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to see Connor looking at him with concern.
"I'm all right. Let's just get inside, OK?"
They both stepped out and there was a beep as Connor locked the doors remotely. They met at the front of the truck and Connor handed over the bunch of keys.
Cutter approached the door with trepidation. He felt like he was about to do something illegal, like breaking and entering. Only, it was his house and he had the key. Didn't stop him from feeling like the he was about to be apprehended for being a fraud though. His hand trembled as he twisted the key in the lock. It wasn't until he had opened the door and was about to step over the threshold that he realised he was alone. He turned and saw that Connor was still standing by the truck, mobile phone in hand.
"Connor?"
"Just calling a cab." Connor waved his phone around to indicate his intentions. "Time for all good palaeontologists to be in bed, right?" he said with false cheerfulness. "You get some sleep - I'll wait out here."
Alarm bells started ringing in Cutter's head, but he was too damn tired to figure out what Connor's problem was this time. However, there was one thing he was absolutely sure about. "It's Friday night," he said.
"Friday, yeah," echoed Connor. "So?"
"So... it'll be a least an hour's wait for a cab. Now, why don't you come inside before you catch your death. That kind of paperwork I really don't need."
Connor shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at Cutter. He was obviously torn between politeness and wanting to be anywhere else.
Cutter didn't know what was going on but he was starting to get a bad feeling. There was only one more thing he could try. "Connor," he said as patiently as he could, "I'm not him."
That got a reaction, not doubt about it. Connor started, looking momentarily confused. "Not him. Right. I knew that," he muttered. "Right. So, er, cup of tea then?" The question was asked a bit too brightly, but at least he was moving.
"And something to eat," Cutter added, leading the way indoors and switching on lights as he went.
And yet another conundrum to add to his list – what the Hell was up with Connor and the other Cutter?
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TBC
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