Time Over and Again, Chapter 5

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“No.” Len said to the old man.

“Did you see?”

“I—I—I do not get it. This… what is this place? Where am I?”

“You are not anywhere, Len.”

“No. Stop. This is… no. This is all too fast. No. This is… wrong.”

Len stood up and looked around the room, then out the window at the storm.

“You must know how to get through it. You live out here, how do I leave? How do I get back to Sasha?”

“Len—”

“I need to get back to her.”

The old man stood up and began to walk down the staircase, beckoning Len to follow with a wave of his arm. Len obliged, stumbling down the stairs, listening to the storm bash the tower just outside.

The old man led Len to the living room downstairs once more. The photographs and paintings of food littered the walls, but they were slowly charring, fading into dust and crumbling. Len’s body panged as his bandages grew damp, his sliced-up body leaking fluids like a strainer full of water. He let out a scream, and the sound of sirens blared in the background.

“There’s somebody over here, hurry!”

Len couldn’t move a muscle. He could not open his eyes, and was gone again as quickly as he’d returned.

Len nearly fell over, but caught himself on the side of the couch. He stared at the walls of the room and watched as they began to fade into dust along with everything inside. He stumbled, his injuries growing more searing, more difficult to bear by the moment.

“I would not advise going out into the storm, Len,” The old man said. “You will find nothing out there.”

“And what will I find in here?” Len snapped back, his voice straining against the pain that continued to sap his energy from his body. “False hopes and dust? I need… ugh.. I need more than that.”

He staggered forward and fell against the door leading outside. While the rest of the tower slowly disintegrated, the door remained sturdy and unbroken. Len tried to turn the handle but it would not budge. The old man shook his head and left to another room, leaving Len without a word. Len slammed his hands on the stubborn door, sending shooting, stabbing signals straight through his body that saw him collapsing to the floor in agony.

He lay there on the floor for several moments. Thoughts spun and shapeshifted erratically as he tried to convince himself of his strength to stand once more, that all it would take is his own will to go on to push himself onward. Each moment he tried to convince himself to force his way up but each moment he found himself unable to try, unable to go on. He panicked and his heart raced as his breathing grew short and ineffective. Could he not stand? Was he too much of a coward to go on? These thoughts crashed about in his brain as he tried desperately to convince himself to rise up and continue on but never did. He clawed at his head, digging his nails into his skull and tearing at his hairs, shutting his eyes and clenching his teeth as he screamed into the wooden panels beneath him.

Len scrunched his legs inward and the many slices in his body flared; he could feel blood oozing out of them and dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, a gentle, but firm, shove nearly rolled him over onto his back. Len reopened his eyes to find the old man having returned with a large staff with a spatula on the end in his hand. He offered Len his hand, which he took, grateful for the much-needed assistance returning to his feet.

“Th—thank you,” Len choked.

“Come, Len,” the old man said. “I will help you cross.”

The old man supported Len as they walked out into the fierce storm once more. He guided him along nearly invisible paths, hidden under layers of dirt and obscured by the rampant, impenetrable downpour slamming the ground and slicing at anything foolish enough to go exposed in its terror. The old man spun his staff, slinging the rain away and creating a small protective bubble around him and Len as they returned to the barrier separating them from the clear weather.

Sasha perked up at the sight of Len and the old man, slowly standing up and pawing at the barrier wall in front of her. The old man laid Len down on the ground and used the spatula end of the staff to slice a Len-height line down into the barrier, burning the end of the staff away as he did. Once the staff reached the bottom, the staff disintegrated into dust, and the old man pulled open a hole in the barrier wide enough to walk through. He helped Len to his feet once more and assisted him in walking back through the barrier.

“Get him moving, now!”

Len stumbled as he tried to cross the barrier, but the old man caught him and lead him through.

“Th—thank you,” Len said. As he stepped through the barrier, the calm air and sunlight beamed into his wounds and rejuvenated him with loads of energy. The wounds did not heal and the deeply embedded, tight, flaring pain did not subside, though he now had the energy to continue on with Sasha by his side. The old man grimaced and shook his head before turning back and walking once more through the storm.

Len turned to Sasha. “We should go.”

She whimpered softly and followed by his side as Len walked out, off of the path, and into the wide-open fields ahead.

“What happened in there?” Sasha asked.

Len shifted uncomfortably. A rush of pain shot through his body, stabbing at every wound from the inside and out. Sasha tripped and fell over onto her side.

“Sasha, are you ok?”

“I should,” she coughed. “I should be asking you that.” She began to shiver uncontrollably.

“Sasha, please. We need to get you help.”

“No, Len—”

“I insist. I will find the old man again. I will get his help.”

“How?”

Len held Sasha close to his chest and walked back through the field. The air felt heavy, like it was trying to push him back to the ground. Sporadic itching bounced around his body from his head to his toes as the pangs of his injuries continued to flare.

“Who do we notify?”

Len’s legs felt like they turned to jelly, and it took all Len had to hold on and not fall flat on his face. He pushed forward until he reached the barrier once more. Len was about to set her on the ground when he noticed her body slowly turning to a faint, dim dust.

“No, no… hey, Sasha. Hey, stay with me, please,” he started speaking hysterically.

He charged into the storm, shielding Sasha from the dagger-like rain that was coming down onto him. He ignored the many new slashes burrowing into his back as he frantically dug up dirt and shoved it onto Sasha, hoping it would hold together some of the dust flaking away from her body.

“Len, please,” she said.

“Stop, Sasha. Save your strength, you need to—”

“Len, stop…” she said. “Please.”

Len watched helplessly as she continued to fade to dust. He carried her back out of the storm and sat on the ground with her in his arms.

“Sasha…” He began.

“It’s ok, Len,” she said. “It’s not your fault. It happens.”

Len began shaking. He did his best to keep his composure, but nothing he could do to stay strong for her could keep his tears at bay, clouding his vision. He wiped them away, but when he reopened his eyes, Sasha was already gone, a mere pile of dust remaining in his arms. Despite there being no wind, even that soon blew away.

Len was alone.

Click here for the conclusion, Time Over and Again, Chapter 6: finite