Note: Hi. It's been a while.
Chapter 11
Dust was everywhere. It stung his eyes. It traveled down his throat and kept him from breathing. The gunman was nowhere to be found. There was a stench in the air, like burnt, rotting meat. More importantly---
He looked down, ran his fingers through his hair, across his chest. Nothing. No hole or blasted flesh or the gelatinous sensation of blood dripping across his skin. Had the gunman missed? No. That hadn't sounded like a gunshot at all actually. More like thunder, but that was impossible.
Cornelius's mind raced as it tried to take in all the information he could. What had caused the noise? Several hypotheses came to mind immediately, the first one being divine intervention, though he highly doubted that.
"Are you alright?"
Cornelius looked to the gloved hand that was extended to him through the dust, and as it settled, he saw a hooded man. Hair of the most stunning silver and eyes that shone with an inner golden fire peeked through the shadows of that hood. Like a god out of myth. An Apollo. His mouth slightly parted, out of breath. Could this truly be divine intervention?
There was something about this hooded man though. It was the curve of his face and the way his eyes looked at him. All so unsettling in its familiarity.
"Come with me if you want to live, Doctor Robinson."
"And we ran for it, basically," Cornelius explains.
The scientist had stripped his large jacket off and had sat on the chair in what Wilbur recognizes as his father's methodical way of sitting. Back straight, head up, hands clasped in front of him, legs splayed apart.
"Yeah, it's him alright," he thinks fondly, "not an impostor. Not an illusion."
"So…how are you Wilbur?"
Wilbur is broken out of his thoughts. "Just fine, dad."
Cornelius stands up and walks towards him. He takes his son's hands into his own. Wilbur hadn't even noticed it, but his hands were shaking.
"I'm okay really." Wilbur pulls away. "You don't have to keep worrying about me."
"…Sure. If that's what you want."
The door slams open, and Cornelius jumps directly in front of Wilbur. The hooded man enters, his steps echoing sharply against the walls.
"Don't do that! I thought we were getting attacked again." His father breathes a sigh of relief.
The hooded man grunts back.
"So…who is this guy anyway? Are you sure we can trust him?" Wilbur asks.
"More than I trust the ones who are trying to kill me."
"Hmm. It doesn' matter what ya think," the hooded man says, "You either trust me or you die. You're intelligent enough to make the right choice, Cornelius."
"And what of our pursuers?"
"I's able to buy us time, but I don' know for how long."
The hooded man finally removes his leather jacket, and Wilbur understands what his father had meant. Silver. Like moonlight. And his eyes were like the sun.
"What ya' lookin' at?"
There was something about the hooded man. Something…grating. His accent, Wilbur deduces. It was that foreign accent giving him an aura of strangeness, never-mind his outright appearance.
"Nothing…"
"Then don' stare. This ain' a circus."
He walks around the beam of light on the floor and leans against wall where the darkest shadows stagnate.
"So, any ideas as to how to get out of this mess, Cereus?"
He keeps silent for a moment. Had he heard the question? Had he fallen asleep?
"I do…but you'll probally hate me for sayin't."
"Does everyone from the future not know how to speak English or something?" Wilbur asks to which the man named Cereus only sighs in response.
"Wilbur…" Cornelius shakes his head and returns his concerns back to the man in front of them. "Lay it down for me. What are my options?"
"If you allow me…I could kill them for you."
"No. Not again."
Again? Wilbur soon realizes the one fact he had overlooked since Cornelius' return. Who was the burnt man in his father's grave?
Cornelius glances at him, and Wilbur pretends not to have heard as he sits looking at his fingernails.
"The option's always open, when ya stop bein' so naïve."
"Don't need your judgments, Cereus. I just need to know what we should do next."
"We can def'ly just keep runnin' 'til they run outta steam."
"And how would that help any?" Wilbur asks. "They have a time machine. It'll be us that will get tired first."
"Well…t'was one of the better ideas."
"Why can't we just go to the future and stop them there?" It was so simple that Wilbur couldn't believe that they had not thought of it before.
"No," Cereus answers, "not an option."
"You're just mad that you didn't think of it yourself!"
"Hmm. I would'a thought that you learnt your lesson." Cereus looks at the watch on his wrist. "Bad things happen to li'l boys who mess with time."
"How did you know about that?" Had his father told him? When?
"We need to get outta here an' soon, Cornelius. Anywhere we can hide for a while." Wilbur couldn't believe he was being ignored.
"Only one place left to go." Cornelius sighs and turns to Wilbur. "Won't your mother be surprised?"
"So I'm guessin' she didn' take it too well," Cereus says as he enters the dining room.
"Not the reaction I was expecting," Cornelius groans as he pats the bag off ice on his face.
"Lemme see. No' too bad. I woulda probally hit ya harder." Cereus smirks. His hood is up once more. Cornelius makes a mental note to ask him about that later on.
"So what's the plan from here?"
"Like there was ever a plan from the start."
The man stands a little too close. A little too comfortable. And it reminds him, of the question that has been gnawing at the scientist for some time.
"Cereus…why did you save me? How did you know I was in danger?" Cornelius looks at him analytically. Hypotheses running through his head. Too little information, too many conjectures. He needed anything. A word. A phrase. A clue to narrow all the possibilities down to one. He needed to know why he was unsettled. Find out why this man's smirk had unnerved him.
His gaze is through the window, careful to avoid Cornelius' eyes. A faraway look into the horizon. The sunlight touches his hair, and though it might have been a trick of his eye, Cornelius thinks the silver seems to be radiating even more deeply.
"I's just in the neighborhood. Tha's all."
"But how did you get here?"
"Hmm…I think someone's comin'."
"You're not answering my question."
"Be wary. I feel evil intent comin' this way."
Cereus stands up from his seat as Franny walks through the door. Her face is calm, but Cornelius notices her eyes. Like daggers.
"Jus' takin' my leave, Mrs. Robinson." His voice shakes a little as he tries to wriggle his way around her.
She does not blink or even acknowledge his existence. All she does is keep her eyes on her husband.
"I'm really sorry Franny. I would've told you I was alive. Honest." He stutters as she stands directly in front of him. "It was just too dangerous to let you find out."
Her hand rises like a claw, slowly inching for his face.
"I didn't want to put you in any more danger." He flinches as she takes the bag off his face.
"It almost looks good on you," she says, and a chill runs up his spine. But her gaze softens with each passing second.
"I've really missed you Cornelius."
From all the excitement, Wilbur hadn't noticed he was so deathly hungry. His stomach grumbles, and that is always intolerable to a growing teenage boy. So he finds himself in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator, removing plates of leftovers, and placing them on the table in front of him. A leg of turkey, a piece of apple pie, some mashed potatoes, and a cold slice of pizza.
"A worthy appetizer," he says with his mouth salivating.
"You shouldn' eat so much, you might get fat in the future."
And Wilbur's appetite disappears (just slightly!) as Cereus comes from around the corner. "How would dad have described it? Oh yes, inverse relationship," he thought.
"You want some?" He mumbles with the turkey leg lodged in his mouth.
"No. It's fine."
Awkward silence.
"Um. Thanks. You know. For saving my dad and all," he says.
"We' not through this yet."
Awkward silence...yet again.
"Um. Where are you from?"
"The future."
"I meant what year."
"3065."
"Woah! Really?"
"Yes."
"What's it like? Do robots look like people now? Is there a cure for the common cold? Do we still have to go to school?"
Cereus looks out the window once more. "It's the same basically. Just a little less peaceful."
"Well, that's boring."
"Sorry. Can't really tell ya much more 'an that. Time stream an' such."
"Can you take me to see the future? You know, when this is over."
"Maybe…"
Something falls from the ceiling. A chip of white paint. To Wilbur's closer inspection, pieces of the house are falling off one by one.
"Hmm? That's weird."
And with that, the house begins to rock violently. A buzzing noise, like a bee, grows louder and louder, until Wilbur has to block out the noise with his hands. Even then, his whole body is shaking, no, more like vibrating.
"Wilbur!" He hears Cereus slightly. "Get down!"
He tackles the boy to the ground right before the side of the wall collapses in a shower of sparks and fire.
"Wibur! We gotta' move! They're already 'ere!"
They run through the smoke as more explosions erupt outside. The windows break open in a shower of glass. Wilbur stumbles. He screams.
"Cereus! Something hit me!"
"Where?" Wilbur points at a long gash on his leg.
"You're fine. Only a flesh wound! We have to get your dad and run!"
"What about the rest of my family?"
"They'll be fine!" Wilbur looks around. His house. It was dying in front of his eyes. Those days of comfort are gone now.
"I need to get the others to safety!" Wilbur tries to pull away.
"Wilbur." Cereus comes up close and speaks into his ear, "Trust me. Everything will be fine. Just run and don't look back."
Before they can, a shape emerges from the smoke.
"Ya ain't goin' nowhere. Just hand the kid over and we'll be peachy." Something about this man's hair also catches Wilbur's attention. The same translucent quality in a reddish hue. The eyes too are haunting.
"Wilbur. Stay behind me."
"Give him to me or I'll take 'im by force." The air around him shimmers, and it begins to growl. He'd heard that noise before, but where?
"Get down!" Cereus pushes Wilbur to the ground again as blue flame erupts from the man's hands. It leaps into the air and crashes into Cereus, the force of it knocking him straight through a wall.
Wilbur feels the heat crawling on his skin and draws back.
"Come on kid. You'll be safe with us. Nothin' to worry about."
Wilbur looks around him, at the devastation, and takes one last look at the man in front of him before launching himself into kick.
"Agh! God!" It is as if his foot has smashed against a brick wall.
"Gotta be tough huh? Jus' couldn' be good boyo and do what's told." He grabs his foot and pulls. Wilbur falls and is dragged across the floor.
"Let me go! Let me go!" He flails and kicks, but the man doesn't stop.
"You know, you really shouldn' have done that." Cereus groans as Wilbur watches him stand back up against the wall. His coat is in tatters now, his hood having been blasted off his face, and his hair begins to glow brighter and brighter.
The man drops Wilbur's foot, and his face changes to horror.
"You're one of 'em bloomers!"
"Yeah, they call us that." And Cereus' light fills the hall, growing in intensity until Wilbur has to look away or risk serious blindness. As he shuts his eyes, the sound of lightning erupts, and there is the familiar burst of heat. A momentary shot of pain through his ears, then silence. The thought that maybe he has gone deaf leaves him with panic until the silence resolves into ringing, and then a voice becoming clearer and clearer.
"Wilbur. The coast is clear now. It's time to move"
"Where'd he go?" To which Cereus replies with a sad smile.
"What was all that? How did he do that? How did you do that? What are you people?" Wilbur asks frantically.
"Not people, I can assure you."
To be continued in part 12-
Hopefully it hasn' t been too long since I last updated. It looks like this thing is going to be running a little lengthier than I expected. Should be okay right? I hope so.
And thank you very much again for your reviews. They are always welcome.
And I apologize for those of you who hate accents. I was trying to shorten words without being too "Their Eyes Were Watching God"
