Chloe: im giving u one time permission to go into my room
Chloe: like u ever cared before
Chloe: but i need u to grab something for us
David: And what is that, exactly?
Chloe: loose floorboard in the closet
Chloe: we need whats under it
David: Fine. Hang on.
David: Are these firecrackers?!
Chloe: no theyre fucking candy canes
Chloe: just bring em
Chloe: and try not to bust my balls when u get here
Oct 10, 2013 - [9:30 am]
Highway 101
Just south of Seaside, Oregon
Generally speaking, Chloe's not a quiet person. She's always been animated by nature, and even being completely baked can't keep her from being a chatterbox. So, on the rare occasions that she is still and quiet, it's usually safe to assume that there's a good reason for it.
The first time I told her about her dad and the alternate timeline, about two weeks after Arcadia Bay was lost, her response had been to go out to the backyard and chain-smoke an entire pack of cigarettes in silence. I'd been terrified that I might've just driven her away, but when she'd finally come back inside, weary looking and stinking of smoke, the first thing she'd done was pull me into a hug and whisper 'I understand'.
We spoke about it a couple more times over the next year, and a bunch more after she made her decision to die. She talked about understanding the other Chloe better at the end, and about how no one can really understand wanting to die like that until they're faced with that choice for themselves.
She never told me that she forgave me for not choosing to save her dad. I don't know whether that was because she hadn't, or because she didn't think there was anything to forgive. I was always too scared to ask.
Last night I'd been more than a little afraid of setting her off again. Her temper was on such a hair trigger in these early days, with layers upon layers of abandonment issues leaving her ready to lash out at the first sign of betrayal, and this Chloe doesn't have the benefit of several months of trauma therapy. I'm ashamed to admit that I was tempted to keep the whole thing to myself. But trust is so important to her, and even when she begrudgingly accepts that I'm not telling her everything, that wouldn't make it alright to lie to her.
She kept her cool, though. It hadn't been easy, and we'd both cried more than once. She asked a lot more questions this time, and even laughed a little at the thought of Victoria practically begging to help me with my homework. And although I kept waiting for her to ask me to bring her dad back, whatever the consequences, she never did.
We'd eventually gone to sleep, and deep down I'd hoped that we'd gotten through it alright. Apparently not, though, because she's been gazing silently out the trucks passenger window ever since we left Arcadia Bay and it's not hard to guess why. And while I'd usually be more than willing to give her the time she needs to mull it over, time isn't a luxury we have to spare right now.
The irony of that isn't lost on me.
Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I glance at her. "How's it going over there?"
"Hm?" She looks over and offers me a slight shrug. "Oh. I'm good."
"I'm a pretty good driver, you know. I'm not going to crash your truck."
"I know."
"So what's on your mind?"
She shrugs again. "I was just thinking about that other timeline."
Color me shocked. "Want to share?"
"I just...I dunno," she sighs. "I can't believe I was so selfish."
Well, that's new. "Chloe, you weren't..."
"Yeah, I was," she interrupts. "I keep wondering if I...she even thought about the consequences. She didn't know you could undo it all. Did she even care that you could've gone to prison? That you'd have been throwing your whole life away? And even if you could've gotten away with it, what kind of bitch would ask someone they care about to just sit there and watch them die?"
I try to suppress it, but some expression must flash across my face. Enough for her to notice, at least.
"What?"
"Red light."
Her eyes widen. "Again?"
Red light. It's something we came up with when we woke up this morning, just before David arrived with the money, the firecrackers, and a foul expression. I promised Chloe that I wouldn't lie to her, even if I didn't tell her everything, but that didn't mean I wanted to go through the whole song and dance of explaining that everytime something came up that I wasn't ready to talk about, or that she wasn't ready to hear about.
Things like medically-assisted suicide.
So instead, I'll say 'red light'. A quick, two-word way of telling her that the topic she just brushed up against is something that I don't want to talk about and she's happier not knowing, at least for now. It's not a denial; just a deferral until after all this is over. We'll have plenty of time to talk about all of it later on. Years and years, if I have anything to say about it.
But as much as it's made things run smoother, I'm getting really tired of having to say it.
"Yeah," I say. "Again. Sorry."
"Jesus, how fucked-up was the future?"
"Enough that I risked everything to come back and change it," I remind her, not unkindly, nodding to the 'Welcome To Seaside' sign as we pass it. "We'll be there in about five minutes."
Like that, the subject is dropped with an unspoken promise to come back to it later. Pulling her backpack out from under the bench seat, Chloe retrieves the envelope of cash that David reluctantly handed her earlier and starts flipping through it. "Y'know, I'm surprised you're not just going to rewind the stuff we need right out of the store."
"That's exactly what I'm going to do, actually," I laugh. I've been looking forward to this part.
"Then why'd you have David grab the cash?"
"Because it was going to get buried either way. I'm sure we'll find a use for it after all this is over."
She stares at me, wide eyed. "Seriously?"
"Yup."
"Free money?"
"Basically."
"Have I told you how awesome you are?"
I give her a quick wink. "You could stand to mention it more."
Warren: Hey-o, Max-o!
Warren: Guess who went on a date last night?
Warren: THIS GUY RIGHT HERE!
Max: WHAAAAT! That's awesome! Go Warren!
Warren: You were totally right about Brooke. We started talking yesterday afternoon and ended up getting dinner at the Two Whales.
Warren: We're going to the drive-in tonight. Late night double-feature picture show!
Max: Second date already? Go you.
Warren: What can I say? The ladies love me.
Warren: Well, the ladies that don't love other ladies, at least. :P
Max: Haha! Calm down, Casanova!
Warren: BTW, Brooke said something about how you talked to her, too. Thank you! You are truly Blackwell's love guru and I bow to your wisdom.
Max: You learn well, grasshopper.
Max: Enjoy going ape.
Max: But not TOO ape. It's just the second date. ;)
Oct 10, 2013 - [11:20 am]
Seaside, Oregon
I move through the hardware store quickly, basket in hand, grabbing the things we'll need. The shopping list isn't too long, but it was definitely unusual, and I wanted to limit the amount of time I had to rewind. Especially since it was going to take me more than one trips to get everything to the truck; I'd never be able to carry everything in one go.
I'll start with the heaviest stuff and work my way down, which means I do my first rewind with fifteen pounds of steel towing chain over my shoulder and a six-pound pair of bolt cutters in my hands. It's closer to the maximum carrying limit Victoria and I tested than I'd like, but I want to this in as few trips as possible.
"Miss? Miss, you need to pay for those!"
Ignoring the cashier's shouts as I walk right out the front doors, I wind the clock back to before I went in, dump the items in the truck bed, and grin at Chloe's surprised expression. From her perspective, I was only gone for a second or two.
The remaining trips will be easier, which is nice considering I still feel a little winded from the first. Twenty-one pounds doesn't sound like much, until you have to drag it through time. Without going into the details, this one is a bunch of alarmingly common items and chemicals that (once they've been properly combined) should make for a decent explosive. I feel incredibly conspicuous carrying it all around, like I've got a sign around my neck that says 'Hi, I'm building a bomb!'.
I end up splitting it all into two trips, just to keep the weight-per-trip down. Even so, all the extra cargo is wearing on me. So much for my future career as a time travelling courier. That's a shame, because 'guaranteed delivery before you actually sent it' is a pretty great slogan.
The second to last trip is kind of a grab bag of stuff; cable ties, work gloves, ski masks (which they sell here, for some reason), tape, soldering iron, a small spool of wire, a hot glue gun, a car power inverter...you get the idea. By the time I've got it all in the truck, I've actually broken a sweat. That hasn't happened in a while, and it's got nothing to do with the physical effort. The stuff isn't that heavy.
Chloe's giving me a suspicious look, but I walk away before she can say anything, and she knows there's no point in following me.
I've saved the most questionable item for last, and I definitely get a funny look from the guy in the plumbing section when I ask him to cut me some short lengths of steel pipe. I play it off pretty well, though, telling him that I was making some miniature tide buoys for a science project. He just accepts it, no questions asked. He even recommends some good endcaps and a fast-curing sealant.
I'm pretty sure he'd have called the cops if I were a guy, and I'm torn between being relieved, and a little offended that he didn't suspect I was up to something.
I'm feeling pretty tired when I get back to the truck. While this little shopping trip only took about twenty seconds to the rest of the world (Chloe included), I've been at it for nearly an hour. Chloe doesn't even ask before snatching the truck keys out of my hand. "I'm driving. You chill."
I'm in no mood to argue, setting into the passenger seat. The rumble of her old truck's engine is surprisingly soothing, and I don't even realize I'm dozing off until I'm suddenly woken by Chloe dropping a convenience store shopping bag in my lap. Inside is the last thing we need; a cheap cell phone that's going to act as our remote detonator.
"It's already set up," she says, before I can ask. "The most common prepaid plan, paid for in cash. I felt kind of dumb paying for a hundred minutes of talk-time, since we're only going to need half a second."
"Better to be inconspicuous," I remind her. This is the riskiest purchase, since it's the only one I can't rewind away. If I tried, we'd just end up with an inactive SIM card again. "They didn't ask for ID, did they?"
"These guys don't get paid enough to give a shit, so I slipped the dude an extra hundred and told him I 'forgot' it." She grins, obviously pleased with herself. "Never thought I'd have enough free cash to straight up pay someone off. Felt kinda badass."
Her smile is infectious. "Quite the criminal mastermind, aren't you?"
"Damn straight." She starts the truck, reaching into the bag to retrieve a candy bar and accidentally (I think?) brushing her hand against my thigh. "So, back to home base?"
"Yup," I nod, dropping the bag on the seat. "It's arts and crafts time."
Victoria: The police came by Blackwell this morning asking questions about you. About Price, too.
Max: Crap. Did they talk to you? What did you tell them?
Victoria: Oh, everything. They're on their way to your little tree fort right now with helicopters and swat teams.
Max: I'm serious.
Victoria: I told them we barely know each other and that I couldn't care less about where you are and what you're doing.
Victoria: Basically, the truth.
Max: Just be careful, okay?
Victoria: Gee, thanks for the tip.
"This is so messed up," Chloe mutters, leaning over me as I solder a wire tip onto the cell phone's electronic guts. "Remember when arts and crafts was all crayons and construction paper?"
"I mostly remember you going to town with the glitter." I smile, glancing up at her. "I definitely remember washing sparkly bits out of my hair for a week."
"Yeah," she murmurs. "Still, I can't believe someone can just buy the stuff to make a bomb."
"Try not to overthink it."
I'm trying to sound casual, but I know how she feels. I was a little unnerved myself when I learned how easy it was to build a remote-triggered bomb. When they say you can make one out of stuff laying around the house, they're not kidding.
"I mean, I know this is all for a good cause, but holy shit," she continues. "You're not worried about the FBI coming after you or something?"
"Why would they? Even if anyone did go looking for evidence of a bomb, this thing is going to be blown into a zillion pieces and swept away by the storm."
"I guess." Chloe leans in a little closer, fascinated by the sight of me building a remote detonator out of a cheap cell phone and some spare electronic parts. I'm sure I make it look easy, but that's just because I spent hours upon hours assembling, rewinding, then re-assembling the same device at Victoria's kitchen table. It took me over a hundred tries before I made one that worked like it was supposed to, and at least another hundred before I could do it twice in a row. At this point, it's practically muscle memory.
"Chloe?"
"Yeah?" she responds, her lips practically next to my ear. We made a point of stopping at Seaside's community pool to get cleaned up, and she's close enough that I can smell the shower soap on her skin. It's a little distracting.
"I'm kinda building a bomb here."
"I know."
"Think you could give me a little space?"
"Huh?" She blinks, then skips back a couple of steps. "Shit! Sorry!"
"It's okay," I laugh. "I remember how much you love your explosions."
It's been a long time since we were blowing up barbie dolls in her bedroom (five years for Chloe; seven for me) but she's just as enthusiastic now as she was then.
For all her comments on how unsettlingly easy bomb-making is, she was practically bouncing with excitement watching me mix the chemicals together and add the powder from the firecrackers. She'd insisted on stirring the baking flour in herself, donning a pair of latex gloves and kneading the dirty grey slop into something more like raw cookie dough.
When the time came to test our mix, she'd practically begged to set it up herself. Putting a small spoonful in a sandwich bag and sticking a small firecracker into it, she'd placed it behind a large rock and gleefully lit the fuse, cackling with delight when the small explosion sent a spray of dirt and twigs into the air.
"There." I hold up one of the lengths of pipe. Wires run into either side of it from the heavily modified cell phone glued to its side, and another set of longer wires run to the other two pipes. "All done."
She nods slowly, opening her mouth to speak.
"And yes, Chloe," I continue before she can say anything. "When the time comes, I'll let you set them off."
The smile on her face makes my heart do a little flip. "Sick."
Max: You're awesome, smart, brave, and beautiful. Just FYI.
Max: I think you're a little closer than six feet away, actually. ;)
Max: Because I really, really missed being able to text you.
Max: And now I can again! :))))))))
Max: You can look at me like that all you want but this is making me really happy. :P
Max: Oh, yeah? Well, what about this?
Max: [gif/sackedbyrunningdog]
Max: I know, right!?
Max: Fine. Go ahead. (-_-)
Chloe: NO EMOJI!
Oct 10, 2013 - [4:52 pm]
Utility District Substation
Just outside Arcadia Bay, Oregon
"What the hell is taking so long?" Chloe groans quietly, for what has to be the fiftieth time.
"Relax. It's almost five o'clock." I nod toward the half-dozen men in orange vests. "See? They're already packing up their tools."
"And taking their sweet ass time doing it."
Privately, I'm just as annoyed as she is. We've been here for hours, waiting for the county utilities crew we found working right next to our goal to finish up and leave. "Just be patient, okay?"
"Fine," she huffs. A minute later, she asks, "Hey, you know what I keep wondering?"
"What's that?"
"This might be weird, but I wonder what I was doing right now in the old timeline. Like, if I somehow ended up doing the same thing at the same time, would I feel some kind of weird déjà vu?"
"Huh. That's actually a pretty good question," I admit. "But not one I want to test. Today was stressful enough the first time around."
She snorts. "We're about to commit domestic terrorism, Maximus. What could possibly be more stressful than that?"
Watching her get shot by Frank. Watching her shoot Frank. Watching her get mauled by a dog. Watching her overdose on morphine. Watching her find the photos of Rachel. Watching her dig up her lost friend's rotting corpse with her bare hands. Watching her with actual, real murder in her eyes. Watching her head snap backward, her body falling gracelessly over Rachel's.
"Just stuff. Don't worry about it."
"Oh, come on."
I sigh, glancing over at her. "Red lights."
"Son of a..." she pauses. "Did you just say red lights? As in, more than one?"
"Way more than one." I check my watch. "Though if I remember right, right now we were watching Nathan Prescott get the ever-loving shit kicked out of him by Warren."
"Warren? As in Warren Graham?"
I shrug. "Turns out he packs a pretty mean punch."
"Fucking unreal. First you, then Kate, and now Warren? Any other secret badasses around here you wanna tell me about?"
"If I did that, they wouldn't be a secret anymore, would they?" Grinning, I point to the departing utilities truck. "Looks like we're all clear."
"Fucking finally! Time to go set up some bombs!" she pauses, blinking. "Which really isn't something I ever thought I'd hear myself say."
"Oh, you love it."
"Yes, I do, Max o' Mine." Grinning, she gently lifts the bag containing our homemade party favors. "Yes, I do."
Max: Finished our errands.
David: Got it.
David: By the way, a friend at the ABPD just told me that they received an anonymous tip this morning. Rachel Amber's body was discovered at the scrapyard.
David: She's been taken to the Tillamook County Coroner's office.
David: Just thought you'd want to know.
Max: Thank you, David.
David: I wish someone could have helped her.
Max: I know. I do, too.