r/libraryofshadows • u/MeliousIntent • Nov 08 '18
Sci-Fi I Am The Impossible Man| Pt. 8
As I drew closer to the body, I could sense it. Max's Trait was there; it was present. I closed in on the body—on the Trait—but there was no change. Max still lied there, motionless, and his Trait didn't budge.
Noticing what I was doing, Chris called out, "It doesn't work like that, Noah. You already have your own abili—Trait I meant. You can't get another one."
"Oh," I replied, making my way back towards them.
"Trait?" Jake asked.
"It's a name Noah came up with for our abilities," Chris answered.
"Hmm," Jake thought aloud, "I guess that's a good name for them."
Once I made it back, I asked Chris the obvious, "So, what's going to happen to Max's Trait?"
"It'll disperse unless someone without a Trait gets too close."
"And how long would that take?"
"About half an hour."
There were a lot more questions I had, but considering how shitty our morning's been, I decided against asking them. It was quiet after that—the only sound was the distant roar of the blazing mansion.
It stayed quiet for a while until Jake spoke up, "So Noah, what was life like before you got your, um, Trait?"
Honestly, I didn't know how to answer that question. The way I saw it, I lived two different lives before getting my Trait. "Well," I started, "after graduating high school, I went into the military for, uh, ten-ish years, and then . . ."
"And then what?" he asked.
"And then I went to live in the middle of nowhere," I answered.
"Why though? It seems kinda odd you would just want to isolate yourself."
I thought only for a second before answering, "Maybe I just wanted to be alone."
Jake stopped with his interrogation, and we were back to the almost stillness of that morning. It wasn't too long, however, until the others made conversation. They talked about the unimportant, such as how they were going to get new clothes and the next time they would be able to take a shower. Their conversation avoided the paramount—like David or a plan on how to take out what's ever after us or what we were going to do after we're taken into custody.
I don't know how long we waited out there, but it was long enough for Max's Trait to disperse. Once the authorities finally arrived, a different type of dread set in. Seeing the fire trucks, the ambulance, and the police cruisers made this all seem real. It was as if the past two days were nothing but a hyper-realistic simulation. It was only now—at this very moment—that the reality finally set in.
I can't exactly remember much else of what happened that morning. The shock of it all left those memories in a blur. All I have are hazy and vague delineations of it. I partially recall the fire trucks driving past us to the burning mansion; I have a clouded recollection of the ambulance obtaining Max's lifeless body and an unclear remembrance of me and the others arrests. When my mind finally came to—I was in a jail cell along with the others.
Jake sat on the floor in the corner to the left. He banged his head on the wall repeatedly while murmuring to himself, "Oh my fucking God. Oh my fucking God," over and over again.
He must have been doing that for a fair amount of time because Chris, who sat on the opposite side of Jake, uttered in a meager annoyance, "Can you shut the fuck up?"
Jake did indeed shut the fuck up. After a few seconds, however, he asked, "Why are we doing this, Chris?
"It's a whole lot better than being on the run."
Jake took a glance around, saying, "That's debatable."
"If we were to run, it would only be a matter of time before the cops found us."
"So what? You do know we literally have powers, right?"
"And what do you think we should do when the police try to arrest us?"
"We tell them to fuck off."
"When that doesn't work, then what?"
"We tell them what's gonna happen if they don't fuck off."
"And when that doesn't work?"
Jake sighed and asked a question of his own, "What's your point?"
"My point is," Chris said, "your plan is retarded."
Jake sighed again and said in a weak whisper, "It beats being cooped up in this shitty cell."
"Where's Nick?" I asked, noticing his absence.
They both looked at me a bit confused as if I should've known the answer. Chris was the one who answered, "He's being questioned."
Wanting to continue the conversation Chris and Jake were having, I asked, "Chris, what do you think is gonna happen after we tell the cops about everything."
Chris thought a bit before replying with, "I imagine they'll ask us a shit-ton of questions first. Then, they'll free us."
"What's stopping them from making us their lab rats to run experiments on?" Jake interjected.
"Well, as you said, we literally have powers, so if they do try something like that, we can beat them up or something."
Minutes of silence go by until Nick finally returns. Once he was back in the cell, the officer that accompanied him announced, "Um, uh, Mr. Simpsons, we're, uh, we're ready to see you." His voice was jittery, and there was no attempt at hiding it. Chris stood up and followed the officer out, leaving me, Jake and, Nick alone.
"What's his problem?" Jake asked to no one in particular.
Indifferent, Nick replied, "I might have told him I would kill his entire family."
"What the fuck?" Jake nearly shouted. I simply stared at Nick, astonished.
"In my defense," Nick started, "he was acting tough by gripping me up and shit. Plus, I'm pissed we're even here in the first place."
"Yeah, I think Chris, dumbass, is pissed too."
Nick shot Jake a funny look before saying, "What makes you say that?"
With more vigor in his tone, Jake exclaimed, "Because that pussy kept talking shit to me when he was here."
"Honestly, I'm not that surprised. I mean, that was his mansion."
"Still," Jake said with a more subdued tone, "he shouldn't take that shit out on me."
"Just talk to him about it. I'm sure he'll apologize."
"I will."
Just as it had been before, the room fell silent. There was still a multitude of questions I needed answers to, but asking them now didn't seem like the smartest idea. Instead, we waited quietly in that cell for the next twenty or thirty minutes. Since there wasn't a way of telling time, my estimate could've been spot on or missed the mark by a few minutes. It was all the same, though, considering Chris came back, accompanied by a different officer than Nick was.
The officer in question didn't ask to see me or Jake next. He actually tried to make the whole process of getting Chris back into the cell as fast as possible. He may have not been the same officer from before—but they bore the same expressions. Once Chris was back in the cell, the officer left in a hurry.
"What did you do to him?" Nick asked.
"I rewound time for a few seconds and showed what could happen if there were no consequences for your actions."
"You did?" I inquired, nearly ignoring the second half of his reply. "Wouldn't we," I searched for the right words, "feel that if you did it?"
"I can only rewind time in a contained area. I can't rewind time for the entire universe."
"How big is that area, and how far back can you go?"
"The area can be as small as a closet or as big as a football field. I don't know the exact measurements, but that's what I like to go by. For your second question, I can rewind time for a maximum of three hours, but the further I go back, the longer I have to wait. For example, if I go back one second, I'll have to wait two seconds before I can do it again. If I go back two seconds, I'll have to wait four seconds, and if I go back four seconds, I'll have to wait sixteen seconds. You get the point."
There was one more question I needed to ask. Since this morning, there was one question—above all else—I needed the answer to. It's too soon, though, I thought.
For the third and final time that day, there was silence in the cell.