Chapter Four
A Link to the Past


Kyle Broflovski startled himself awake with a stifled cry. The first thing he noticed was that he was swimming in a cold and wet pool of drool. The second thing he noticed, as he grunted in disgust and attempted to clean himself off, was that it was way too freaking early. As in it was so early that dawn hadn't cracked yet. The third thing he noticed really wasn't something he noticed, but more something that he felt. The atmosphere was off. His room, while not having changed since he went to bed, felt different; almost as if it hadn't been in this state when he had fallen asleep a few hours prior. Also, there was a strange taste of bacon in his mouth. He wasn't sure if he should have been excited or concerned about that.

A headache broadcast pictures in his head; images, feelings, and knowledge all rolled into one. He, Kenny, and Wendy were adults. Stan was dead and buried. Cartman had been seriously broken beyond repair. Kyle shook his head violently like a wet dog and attempted to sort through the fog in his mind. Doing so, however, was proving to be a fruitless effort, much like trying to sail the briny seas on a foggy night with no moon or stars for guidance. He removed himself from his bed and, after finding his center of gravity to not be where his subconscious remembered it being, tumbled to the floor with a stifled grunt. Yes, his initial feelings were gearing up to be correct. Something was wrong with reality as he knew it, but he couldn't figure out what it was. It was almost like trying to watch someone's hair grow in real time. It was almost like he had been here in this moment of time once before.

Thinking a walk around the town would do him good, Kyle slipped out of his house undetected and wandered the night. From Stark's Pond to Tom's Rhinoplasty to Old Denkin's farm he aimlessly tread ground lost in thought. Along the way something caught his eye; the Park County Flume. As he stared at the signage in the silver moonlight, he wondered when they had fixed the building up and moved back in. Immediately after, it popped into his head that the building had never been abandoned and certainly didn't look the part. That thought was quickly buried in the dirt when he remembered catching Wendy when she tumbled through a window. A smile formed in between the warm spots on his cheeks for the briefest of moments. Except how could the girl from his dreams have been Wendy? For a start she had been way too tall. Secondly, she had been way too old. Lastly but not leastly, this girl's...boobs had been way too big and squishy. The warm spots on his cheeks were suddenly burning with that thought.

The situation at Denkin's farm had been even more confusing. All around the pasture, dead and mutilated cows littered the grounds as if Barnyard Hitler had committed bovine genocide. Pieces here, pieces there. Here a piece. There a piece. Everywhere a piece of a piece. As he leaned up against the rough and weathered wooden fencing, Kyle was almost half expecting a cow with a swastika armband to come marching out of a barn yelling hateful remarks in German. After a quarter of an hour of waiting, to his relief, it never happened. He silently wondered what Wendy would have thought of that imaginary scene. He also questioned when he started giving a rat's ass about what that crazy bitch thought.

On the way back to his house, Kyle suddenly found himself outside the South Park cemetery, rooted in place like a statue made of stone. Something inside was beckoning him, enticing him like a siren; its identity falling just short of a mystery. He stared at the entrance gate with an eyebrow raised in confusion. Part of him wanted to enter as if it was something that he had done regularly in the past, while the other half pouted in the corner in a tantrum. There was no reason for him to enter this creepy plot of enclosed land; his family was interred in Jersey. Yet the compulsion to enter seemed to enter his very fabric of existence. He had a reason to enter. What that reason was just escaped him at the moment.

Kyle was about to reach for the gate when a young female voice from off to the side nearly scared the crap out of him. Nearly literally. Upon investigation he found standing behind him Wendy Testaburger, former girlfriend of Stan's. Like Kyle, she was dressed in her night clothes and wore about her face a mask of confusion. Two things suddenly flashed through his mind upon seeing her. One, he wanted to embrace her in an energetic hug and be thankful that she was here. Two, he wanted to inquire why she was present here in the snarkiest of tones that he could muster. In the end, the final result ended up being a slight combination of the two; a question of why she was present without the snark or the embrace. The concept of the two of them meeting here in the middle of the night, in pajamas even, was odd and a very strange coincidence if it could be called that. Kyle definitely wanted to say that it certainly was that indeed, but Wendy's response made him rethink the situation.

"I don't know, Kyle," she spoke rather hoarsely, as if she had been sleeping with her mouth open and hadn't regained elasticity in her voice box. "I'm going to go out on a whim and assume that since you're here something doesn't seem right in the world to you too?"

It was funny that she had asked him that question. He had been thinking it since he woke up. No, funny was the wrong word. Ironic? No, no. The only irony here was the composition of the cemetery gate. Coincidental was probably the best fit, but even that didn't feel perfect. Actually, thinking about it further, he realized what was ironic here was the fact that just a few weeks prior he had been right there with Stan in hating this girl. Yet, now he just wanted to embrace her in a big hug and kiss her. His mental thoughts kept flip-flopping between "Hell yes!" and "Fucking gross, dude!" The whole thing was deeply weird and confusing. He wanted to mention it as something he felt was wrong, but didn't want to come across as weird or creepy, not that hanging out at a cemetery in the middle of the night was normal or anything. Instead he settled with, "Funny you mention that, dude. I feel like I should be taller."

"Me too," she said with the same raspy voice and a nod. She cupped her chest with her hands and muttered, "Also, I feel like my boobs should be bigger."

The two laughed nervously at the remark, almost like two old friends who hadn't been in contact for a very long period of time and were trying to get a feel of new inter-personal boundaries. Secretly, Kyle agreed with Wendy's observation, but really didn't know why he agreed or even why he cared at all. The conversation continued, albeit slowly and in a slightly awkward fashion, mostly about why they had arrived at this location at the same time. Wendy's dream was so similar to Kyle's own that it was very hard to consider that a coincidence. Only when she brought up the idea that something greater could have been at work did things start to click in his head. Nothing definite, but certainly worth discussing later.

The conversation ended, much to Kyle's disappointment, without any sort of mention of a mutual attraction between them. He wondered if perhaps it was all in his head. He didn't get a chance to wonder any more than that before Wendy grabbed his hand and pulled him into the cemetery. At her touch he choked with a tiny cough as his heart cut in line and got on the elevator to his stomach. Through the misty moon brightened landscape they traveled, hand in hand Kyle noted with a mix of excitement and a cringe, and stopped at various headstones to read the names engraved on them. Several seemed familiar to Kyle, enough to prompt him to say so, despite not knowing who these people were or even hearing of them before.

Occasionally, Wendy remarked on either the age of the stone or the deceased underneath it, but this conversation barely registered with Kyle. He was too focused on what was transpiring in his head. One part of him wanted to hate this bitch for all she was worth over what she did to Stan. The other part wanted to follow the path of the strange new emotions that were bubbling up stronger and stronger the longer he was in her presence. It was a war and there was no knowing which side would win. Although, he had an idea. The expression that flashed briefly on her face when she thought he wasn't looking seemed to be a carbon copy of confusion he imagined his own looked like to her. Plus, she kept staring at him out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't a bad or an angry stare, just a stare. He was tempted to ask her about it, but came to the conclusion that graveyards were not the proper areas for such discussions...unless you were into that sort of thing.

Eventually the two came to a stop at a stone that caused the air around them to become heavy and oppressing. A feeling of déjà vu washed over him as Kyle read the words out loud. "Here lies Stan Marsh. Sleep well, little child, for the Lord holds thee now." There was no mistaking the big letters carved into the stone. He read it aloud several more times just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The moment of surprise passed leaving a feeling that this was how it always had been. After sharing a look with Wendy and turning back to the grave, the epitaph disappeared as if it had never existed. They stood there staring for some time; neither daring to move; both trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed. This sealed the deal for Kyle. This was no coincidence.

Wendy was the first to break the solemn silence. "You know, I never apologized to him," she said as she trailed her fingers across the now smooth stone face. Kyle knew that the "him" in question she referred to was Stan. While the break up was recent in terms of a few weeks, the way she spoke gave him the impression that what she was referencing happened years ago.

He gave her hand a slight reassuring squeeze as if he had done it before. This action greatly confused him. "Maybe you should," he said softly, "You might live to regret it if you don't." For some reason, he got the impression that she had already lived quite a while in that very scenario. Her smile and weak nod screamed it in volumes. Not long afterward, the hand holding graduated to an arm around her back and her head resting on his shoulders.

As the Sun attempted to play peek-a-boo behind the pink and orange horizon, Kyle and Wendy both agreed that the time to return to their respective homes was right. Again, Kyle noted that they made the trek through the town hand in hand, not that he minded of course. They reached the end of her driveway just as the world started to adopt a rich dark golden glow. Instead of saying good night and going their separate ways as they initially intended, the two found themselves staring intently at each other. Kyle, for the most part, was unable to pry his gaze from the early morning sun glistening in her hair. He was two minds of that. One, this was not like him in any way, shape, or form. Two, he wanted to touch it. It looked soft and silky. His gaze slid down and then focused on her lips. They, too, needed to be touched. He silently wondered if they were as soft as he...remembered? Dreamed? He still couldn't figure out which to apply to the whole situation. His concentration broke just long enough to hear her whisper, "Kyle, I think we need to talk."

He managed to break away to her eyes just long enough to respond with, "Is this about how we should probably not mention this to anyone as it would be hard to explain and probably make us look crazy?" Confusion set in when the response he was waiting for didn't happen right away. All that occurred was a stare. A very hungry stare. It was almost like she wanted to eat him, yet was sad about it at the same time. Were cannibals ever sad?

Kyle would have normally hoped that she wasn't a cannibal, but his thoughts were interrupted when Wendy suddenly gripped him by the shoulders and muttered, "I'm going to go crazy if I don't do this!" Before he could even get a chance to feel weirded out or respond in any sort of way, her lips locked on his with precision accuracy. A myriad of emotions swirled about, ranging from absolute bliss never wanting to end to blind horror wanting to force this bitch off and throw her to the snow.

As quick as it began, the kiss ended leaving the two of them staring at each other and Kyle's mouth slightly agape. As he stared into her eyes, a realization dawned on him. They'd done that before and that was impossible. He had never kissed her before. Not as a kid, a voice in his head replied. He didn't get a chance to ponder things further before he found himself shoved to the ground with Wendy firmly planting herself directly on top of him. He managed to choke out a "What are you doing?" before he found his mouth a victim of an onslaught of kissing. Without even thinking, he found himself pulling her closer to him by the waist. No resistance was offered as little squeaking noises floated on the air from her throat. Kyle found it slightly cute.

As the two of them lost steam, the mouth exercising stopped and turned into a tightly bound embrace. Wendy rubbed her bright red cheek against Kyle's, her hair tickling his nose. "Oh, Kyle," she sighed quietly, "I don't know... I just..." She paused to collect her thoughts. "I just had this feeling that I had been wanting to do this for a while."

"Like an unrequited love from a past life sort of thing?" Wendy lifted her head to stare at him. She appeared confused by Kyle's question until he brushed hair away from her face and by proxy his. She leaned into his hand with a look of happiness. The kissing started again, this time more ferocious than the last. A small part of Kyle wondered when and how the cannibal Wendy would eat his lips and tongue. That idea vanished when he was able to feel wetness on his cheeks. He stopped her ministrations and brushed the tears from her eyes.

"Are you okay, Wendy?" he whispered softly. "I mean, I know this is sudden and a little weird, but..."

She shushed him with a finger and a melancholy smile. "I'm just...confused..." she replied with just enough volume to be barely audible. "I have so many conflicting emotions right now. I feel like...I'm a grown woman trapped in a little girl's body." She appeared to grow uncomfortable as Kyle studied her face for answers. He knew how she felt. Maybe not to the same degree, but their experiences thus far had been so similar that he couldn't discount anything. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

Kyle shook his head and squeezed her comfortably with a hug. "No, it does," he countered. "Well, kind of anyway. I feel like I've lived a past life before or something like that. I've never felt like that before in my life until now."

"What does this mean for us, Kyle?"

"I dunno..."

When the Testaburger adults started to make themselves known to the world with lights and noise, Wendy cursed and kissed Kyle quickly on the cheek. "We need to go before my parents find us out here." He nodded in agreement despite wanting to spend his time with her. The two brought themselves to their feet and gave a final hug farewell. However, before he could say goodbye, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and cried out in surprise. It took a moment for him to realize that she had slugged him. "That's for letting Stan throw water balloons on me, asshole." She gave him a final kiss and left him standing at the bottom of the drive with promises of seeing him later and a head full of confusion over what had just transpired.

Later that day, true to her word the two crossed paths and, with a highly abridged version of that morning's events, talked Stan out of going to Cartman's and instead to visit the unmarked grave at the cemetery. It was there he commented on an overwhelming feeling of unexplained sadness and anger. It was then, at Kyle's urging, that Wendy apologized for, what she called, a huge mistake. Stan accepted the apology with a hug and a stern demand of just wanting to remain friends. Kyle smirked on the inside. It was just as well. He kind of got the impression that Wendy wasn't interested in rekindling their relationship anyway.

At the end of the day, before the two separated towards their respective homes, Kyle and Wendy agreed not to discuss the strangeness of the morning to anyone else, at least not in great detail. No one needed to hear the whole story. People would just think the two of them were bat-shit insane. However, Kyle thought, if someone were to wake up suddenly with a feeling that they had lived their life before with a constant state of déjà vu they might just be a little on the crazy side. What drove him, though, was that he had no answers for why it happened or really what it was. He promised himself one thing, he was going to find out what it was that was linking him to the past. Or the future. Or whatever.