October 9, 2015
Former Price Residence
Arcadia Bay, Oregon

"Rise and shine, Caulfield!" I shout, giving Max a not-particularly-gentle shove on the shoulder. She falls gracelessly out of her recently opened car door, hitting the ground in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs, then scrambles to her feet as she tries to get her bearings.

The sun is little more than a glow on the eastern horizon as I watch the whole scene with amusement.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

"Was that really necessary?" she grumbles, glaring tiredly at me.

"No. Pretty funny, though."

"You suck." Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes, she grabs her jacket from the car and pulls it on to ward off the morning chill, idly flexing her fingers.

"How's your fist of fury feeling?"

"Hm?" She glances down at the lightly bandaged knuckles of her right hand. "Fine. A little sore, I guess."

"You're lucky that cut wasn't deeper," I remind her. "Did you put more disinfectant on it?"

"Yes, Victoria," she responds with an affected groan.

"I'm just checking. No regrets, I'm guessing?"

"Absolutely none," she chuckles. "Have you made coffee yet?"

"Of course I have." What kind of savage does she take me for? I spent good money for the best portable coffeemaker on the market. Something I cheerfully remind her of as I pour her a cup, before returning my hand to the deep pockets of my super-cozy fleece hoodie. Whoever came up with athleisure deserves a Nobel prize.

I've never been the type to jump out of bed in the morning, and I've always set my alarm to reflect that. The big event wasn't until eight AM, so I figured that an hour would be enough time to force myself awake and get ready. But as it turns out, laying in the dark wondering what it might feel like to be erased from existence doesn't make for a good night's sleep.

Existential dread is lonely, it turns out, and I've already been awake for hours. I was so relieved when seven o'clock rolled around and I finally had an excuse to wake Max up.

We take our time getting ready. Max double-checks the contents of her bag while I go through the motions of preparing what I've been trying very hard not to think of as my last meal, and we both devote way more attention to those tasks than necessary. Her bag is exactly the same as when she checked it last night, our breakfast is instant oatmeal, and neither are worthy of more than a few minutes of our time.

We're stalling, and we both know it. We're also trying to fill the air with something other than stifling silence. Arcadia Bay had always been tediously quiet, but it'd still been alive. Even in the dark hours of the early morning, stumbling back to the dorms after some party with Taylor and Courtney, there'd still been the distant sound of passing trains and the yellow glow of the streetlamps. Not anymore.

It doesn't matter that the trees are growing back, or that I can occasionally hear some small animal rustling in the brush; this is a dead place now. Even all the noise the nutjobs down by the beach made last night hadn't quite overcome the disturbing sense that we were trespassing in a graveyard.

When Max suggests we play a few games of checkers before she leaves, I can't agree fast enough. I packed the set when we thought we'd be arriving here a full twenty-four hours earlier, just in case we got bored, and now I'm glad for the distraction. The first couple of games go just like you'd expect; with Max getting trounced. We're in our third now, though, and Max is looking especially pleased with herself. If I had to guess, I'd say it's probably because I've only got one piece left on the board.

"Scared yet?" she asks, eyeing the captured piece I've been idly tapping on the car's hood.

"Of course I am," I admit. "Aren't you?"

She smirks. "Nope."

"Seriously?" I'm not sure whether to chalk that up to confidence or delusion. "I don't know about you, but the idea of bending time into a pretzel to save fifteen-hundred people from a possibly-supernatural storm seems like it's worth being scared of."

"I was talking about the game, but thank you. I feel so much better now."

"Oh." Yeah, I guess that makes more sense. "Why would I be scared of the game?"

"Because I'm winning."

"Is that right?" I lift up my piece, hold it for a second, and put it back on the board.

"Seriously? Are you going to move or not?"

"Actually, you know what?" I make a show of checking my phone. "I think it's time to get going."

"What?! No!" Max gestures indignantly at the board. "You can't do this!"

"I sure can."

"I've finally got you beat!"

"Uh-huh," I chuckle at her outraged expression. "C'mon. You have places to be."

"I'm counting this as a win. I won this game."

"If that makes you feel better, you go right ahead."

"This is completely unfair."

"Said no winner, ever," I fire back, standing up and stretching.

"Whatever," she grumbles, sliding off the hood. Lifting her empty travel mug, she points at mine. "Refill?"

"Please."

"I might need a second to figure out that overbuilt coffee thing of yours. You just stay here and keep being a jerk."

Amused, I watch her walk over to the incredibly easy to use (seriously, I've explained it to her three times already) coffeemaker. Once I'm sure she's not paying attention, I look down at the unfinished checkers game and pick up my last piece. Finally springing the trap I'd lured her into, I slowly hop the small red disc around the board as I deftly capture all but one of Max's. Finally coming to the far edge of the board, I let my fingertips linger on it for a second.

"King me," I murmur, smiling.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Sweeping the board clean, I pack up the set and toss it in the car. "You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be," Max sighs as I follow her to the spot below where Chloe's room had been. "Unless you can think of anything?"

I couldn't have asked for a better opening than that.

"Yeah, actually." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my message to the past. "I want you to take this with you."

"What is it?"

"It's a letter I've written for myself. My younger self, I mean. I want you to give it to her when you see her."

Taking it from my hand, Max eyes me a little warily. "What's in it?"

"Some of it is just confirmation of the stuff you're going to tell her anyway," I admit. "And some is about pushing her into action. Because whatever big inspirational speech you've been practicing for eighteen-year-old me, I can pretty much guarantee that it won't work."

"Give me a little credit. I got through to you, didn't I?"

"Convincing her you're telling the truth isn't even close to the same thing as convincing her to do what needs to be done. I don't care what you think you remember about me; you do not know enough to pull that off on your own." I reach over to tap the letter. "That's your silver bullet. That's how you get through to her. End of story."

"If that's 'some of it', then what's the rest?"

"That's private."

"There aren't any lotto numbers in there?" she presses. "Sports statistics?"

"Do I look like Biff fucking Tannen to you?"

"Maybe a little bit around the chin," she teases. I'd probably want to smack anyone else for that remark.

"Okay, first of all? Why would I need to send her lotto numbers? She's already rich. Second? Screw you."

"You think we have enough time?" She glances down at her watch. "I mean, I guess if we skip the cuddling after..."

"What are you..." Are you kidding me? She picks now to finally start playing along? "Oh, go fuck yourself."

"See, now you're just putting out mixed signals."

Damn it. She's trying to make me laugh and I'm a little annoyed that it's working. Shutting my eyes, I take a slow breath. "Seriously, Max. I just want to be sure she doesn't make any of the mistakes I think I was headed for."

"That's all you had to say." She taps a finger against the envelope. "You think it'll work? Taking a letter back to before it existed?"

"I think so. I got the paper, pen, and envelopes from my dad's desk, so I know for a fact that they all existed two years ago. As for the writing, I'm hoping it'll act the same as my recap journal; the ink vanishes from the pen and reappears on the page."

"I guess we'll see," she murmurs.

No, you'll see, I think, almost bitterly. I'll never know one way or another.

Although I push the thought away before it can take root, it still reminds me of the other request I have for her. The slightly embarrassing one I've been putting off for weeks because I can't think of a way to phrase it that doesn't make me sound unbelievably needy and pathetic.

"There's...uh...one last thing." I murmur, just loudly enough to be heard. Ugh...I already sound needy and pathetic.

Max almost certainly doesn't think so, though. She's probably concerned because she's one of those weird 'genuinely nice' people. "What's that?"

"I..." For fuck's sake, just say it already. "Okay, look. I know that I'm always busting your balls over one thing or another..."

"You?" She grins. "Never."

"And I realize I'm not always easy to get along with," I continue with a withering glare. "But you really mean it when you say I'm your best friend, right?"

She looks so bewildered that you'd think I asked in another language. "What?! Of course I do!"

"Alright. Good." I nod, relieved. It's not like I'm insecure or anything (because I definitely haven't been the tiniest bit worried that she was only pretending to be my best friend because she needed something from me) but it's nice to hear her say it out loud one last time. "Then could you...I mean if this whole thing works and you don't end up destroying the universe or something..."

"Wow. Thanks, Victoria. No pressure."

I reach out to lightly cuff her shoulder. "What I'm trying to ask is could you...I don't know...try getting to know the young me? I know I was a monster bitch back then, but I actually really admired you and I think...I know I'd want to be friends with you."

If I did have any insecurities about that (which I don't), they wouldn't even have had time to flare up before Max pulls me into a hug. "Are you kidding? I was already going to, dummy. You think I'd just give up on you?"

"Okay. Right." A sudden breeze kicks up some dust, and I have to pull away to wipe at my eyes. Because of the dust. "Could you...uh...can I have that letter back for a second?"

Snatching it out of her hand before she can reply, I tear it open on my way back to the car. There's a pen and a couple of spare envelopes in the glove compartment (just in case I wanted to make any last-minute revisions) so it's easy to add a quick note, underline it, then reseal it.

I use the short walk back to compose myself and calmly hand the letter back. "There."

"What was that all about?" she asks as she tucks the letter into her bag.

"I was adding more lotto numbers and sports statistics," I say, smirking. "Ready to get this show on the road?"

"You know it." She bumps her shoulder against mine, the corner of her lips ticking upward. "By the way, I'm totally telling younger Victoria that you cried when I said we'd still be friends."

"What?! No, I didn't!"

"You kinda did."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Try as I might, I can't even muster a proper scowl. God help me, I'm actually smiling.

"Can't stop me. Best friend privileges."

I shouldn't be laughing. I'm just encouraging her. "That's such bullshit!"

"Hey, I don't make the rules."

"Fine. I don't want to be your best friend anymore!"

She steps into a chalk circle she drew on the ground last night. "Liar."

"Asshole," I fire back, still grinning. "Do you have everything?"

"Sure do."

Since anything she carries back with her vanishes from wherever it was at the time she arrives in, we didn't know what would happen if she tried going back to a point before any of it actually existed. That's why we've made sure that everything she's taking with her was already around two years ago. Otherwise, the best-case scenario would probably be that she arrived in 2013 stark-ass naked.

The worst-case scenario would be her pants causing some kind of world ending paradox, which I have to admit is both terrifying and hilarious.

Luckily, it'd only taken an afternoon and a couple of thrift stores to reproduce the Walmart-chic look she had back in high school. We ended up coming pretty close to what she'd been wearing most of that week. Generic jeans, t-shirt with a nondescript logo, sneakers, and a grey hoodie. The only things she hadn't budged on was Price's bullet necklace and navy-blue beanie.

"Camping stuff?"

She nods, patting the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. "All packed."

The real challenge had been finding the supplies for the stops she'll be making along the way. The most weight she's ever managed to carry back was thirty pounds, so we ended up settling on a few of those silver foil emergency blankets we pulled out of the Chase Space's old first aid kit, a hammock we bought at a used camping gear store, an old fire-starter from the seventies that the old guys working there showed us, a water bottle with a built-in filter my mom bought me when I was fifteen and showed a brief interest in hiking, and some emergency food bars that both look and taste like sawdust.

"You left your phone?"

"It's in the car." Another thing she wouldn't need. Even if it survived the trip, the network probably wouldn't recognize it. Easier to just use her phone from back then.

"Remember, each jump comes with about two and a half minutes of lag time."

"I remember, Victoria."

"Got your rocket fuel?"

"Yep." She holds up a full-size EpiPen with a nervous smile. She's got six more in her bag - one for each long jump - along with two EpiPen Junior pens to get her to the finish line. "Never used an adult dose before. Should be interesting."

Getting ahold of those had been a lot easier than it had any right to be. Just like Max had said after that first six-week jump, all I had to do was feed Dr. Kinloch some story about going on a year-long backpacking trip around the world. I didn't even have to try very hard to make it believable. He just smiled, nodded, then signed off on the insurance form.

At least it was for a good cause, rather than me just looking for a way to get doped up. Even if this timeline only has a few minutes left, I'm gonna ride that sweet sense of moral superiority right to the end.

"You'll be fine. Tell me the travel plan."

"Seriously?"

"Humor me." She gives me a look, so I add, "Call it a last request."

"That's not funny."

"I'm waiting."

"Fine," she huffs. "Seven long rewinds right here with at least a day to rest in between. Remember that three and seven are going to drop me into the middle of winter, so be ready."

"If you can, gather up some sticks before you make those jumps so you can start a fire."

"I know, Victoria. Stop worrying."

"I'll worry if I fucking want to. Continue."

"When I get to December 2013, walk out to the woods to avoid the demolition crews. Rewind to the evening after the storm, then come back here. Hide in the garage while rewinding through the storm, then head upstairs before rewinding the rest of the way."

"Perfect." I nod. "I know you want to get there but don't push yourself too hard. Stick to the schedule and don't be afraid to take longer breaks if you need them."

"Yes, mom," she groans. "Any other obvious stuff you want to tell me?"

"No." It'd be nice if there were. There's nothing left for me but to stand here until I cease to exist. The rest is up to Max. "Last chance to back out and go home."

"No way."

"I didn't think so," I chuckle, taking a step back. "Good luck, Max."

"Thanks." She pops the cap off the EpiPen, eyes it for a second, then suddenly I'm wrapped up in another hug. "I'm going to miss you so much, Victoria. I really would've made it here without you."

"I...uh..." My voice cracks a little and for once, I don't care if she notices. "Is it weird to say I'm going to miss you, too?"

"No," she whispers, shaking her head. Then she takes a deep breath and steps back into the circle. "Well, here goes everything."

I wince when she jams the EpiPen into her thigh, almost feeling the jab of the needle myself. I've only used one once, and it wasn't an experience I care to repeat. The way your heart starts racing is bad enough, but it's the sudden feeling of powerful and undefined anxiety that really sucks – especially when the only reason you did it in the first place was because someone dared you to.

Max's breaths are coming fast and shallow, each one sounding a little sharper than the one before it. Her hands are visibly shaking. "O-oh shit..."

"You okay?"

"F-f-fine," she responds, stumbling over her own tongue a little. "A little weird b-but...okay..."

"Think it's going to be enough?"

"P-probably. I sorta f-feel like m-my heart is g-gonna explode."

"You're joking, right? It's hard to tell."

"T-t-totally."

Yeah, I don't think she's joking. "Whatever. Go change the world already."

"You g-got it." She raises her right hand and closes her eyes. "S-see you earlier, Victoria."

I really wish that were true.

I've never seen Max rewind before - how could I have? – and I wonder if this is what it's like every time. It's so strange, as though the air around us is humming. It's like I'm standing next to a huge bass speaker, feeling the sound vibrating in my bones and dancing over my skin. And I don't know if it's my imagination, but I swear I can see something forming in front of Max's palm. Something that defies description and sends an icy shock of fear right through me.

Fighting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut, I take another breath and remind myself there's nothing to be afraid of. This isn't going to hurt. I'm not dying.

Max is going to build a better life for all of us, and it doesn't matter that I'll never see it. There's going to be a new Victoria Chase. She won't have to think about the last two years, because they'll never have happened. She'll have Mom and Dad. Hopefully, she'll have Taylor, too. She'll go on to live her life, never knowing what it feels like to lose everything.

And except for Max, no one will remember the girl who stood in the ruins of Arcadia Bay, imagining a better world as she waited for hers to en-