The Start, or The End

You never think you'll see the end of the universe.

Until you do.

The bright yawn of light stretches, reminding you that your role is infinitesimal, and everyone you've ever loved is dead, long dead, but you watch anyway.

I hadn't eaten in days. It had been longer since I'd seen another person, and I never would again.

But I'm jumping ahead. Or back.

I once lived a normal life in a normal town. My brother Harrison had researched causality for years. We couldn't agree on a single damn thing, and debate spurred us on. He was sure that everything happened independently, and I was sure that coincidence was provable, via synchronicity.

Too romantic, he insisted, while I countered that it hadn't been disproved.

"Time leads to eventuality," I told him.

"No, statistics account for everything," he said.

I flipped my hair, as I did everytime I had a bomb answer. "Random events converge into a causal nexus."

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. A lack of expertise did little to quell my dissent.

My journey began after being trapped, and I was lucky to escape alive.

On Fridays, the school department heads met up, all ten of them. Thanks to my meddling, Harrison and I left with hours to spend.

Like the free people we were, we clomped along the sidewalk, in search of the car. We seemed drunk, and I felt it. Although, I knew Harrison was just pissed.

He nudged me. "Crippling diarrhea, eh?"

In fumbling for the car keys, I nearly tripped. What was up with my sense of walking, like, straight?

"Hey, it worked. Those fools can have their damn meetings without you." I paused to think. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"

"Not nearly enough, no." He grinned, my flub-up quickly forgiven.

Oh yeah, did I not mention? I was an English tutor, so not exactly physics department material. Still, I'd gleamed surfacey info from my brother and father, enough to counter some of their bullshit. Carl Yung and Arthur Koestler were my favorites, much to their embarrassment.

Even as most of what my brother's job went over my head, I adored him, and he adored me.

"You alright?" He held my arm, steadying me.

I shrugged. "Just not feelin' too hot."

"Then let's get home. I've got a paper to finish anyway."

Our footfalls echoed on the damp pavement. The road was clear, a ribbon of black against the dark sky. One minute, there was no one on the sidewalk with us, and the next, a foot stuck out, and I tripped for reals this time, sprawling on the floor.

I caught myself on my right knee, which was a bad idea. Red-hot pokers slammed my leg, and for a moment, I thought dying might be better than the pain. My breath eeked out slow and steady, mostly 'cause I was trying to hold back tears. Across the street, I noticed a mattress store, Jay's Lays. The butthead responsible was sittin' pretty in dingy clothes, a worn cap, and black boots.

"What the hell?" Harrison helped me upright again, glaring at the slumped figure behind us. "Get off the sauce, man."

The capped stranger remained silent, head lolling to the side.

"Jeez, no kidding," I said, wincing as I limped along. "I hope the dude's okay." Truth be told, I already dismissed his existence. Through the pain, inspiration hit. "Wanna get a drink? Bar's up ahead."

Two buildings down, the lights for Bar None beckoned, all sparkly in green and blue neon. I'd never been, but the day's topsy turvey-ness seemed an appropriate reason to swig a few. Harrison, usually the one that needed convincing, nodded.

Later, I realized, it was the drink that did me in. I hadn't had a drop in weeks, and wouldn't for a long while after.

~*~

I was wrong. My knee is what did it.

No. The meeting. Should've stayed at the meeting. Somewhere during the day, everything had funneled into chaos, and I never saw it coming until I was already bobbing downstream.

No matter. Currently, I was throwing back a drink with Harrison. Liquid cocaine. Ah, I can still remember the tart insanity of my favorite drink, and so aptly named. One glass, and I was wobbling more than before. Harrison watched me march ever so carefully to the bathroom, cheering me on.

"Hark!" He called, surely drawing looks from those around. The word was a joke, one that our father had always used.

 I flipped him off and received a wolf whistle for my troubles.

I chuckled while wrestling with my pants in the stall, narrowly avoiding plunking my bare ass into the water. Balance was such an issue for me, and I never understood why until later.

Later.

Now.

The word echoed in my head.

"Now."

I hadn't imagined it that time.

"Hark!"

No one responded to my weirdness. I craned my neck, bending down as casually as you please. A sweeping glance revealed no one in the stalls to the right...and a pair of black boots in the stall to my left.

"Were you talkin' to me, ma'am?" I took a chance with the ma'am, as that tended to piss some people off (haha, piss), but I had to ask.

The stall creaked open, and the boots  left, their owner revealing nothing.

Of all the weird things to just happen...

As I positioned myself for an amazing drunken pee, a bright twinkle appeared. I blinked in rapid succession, and the twinkle disappeared. Huh.

I covered the toilet with paper, and when I turned around, the twinkle had returned. I explained it away as fireflies (cause they're partial to bathrooms), but then the twinkle evolved into two, then four, then more. Tinkerbell and friends, had to be. A series of lights swirled in front of me. When I shook my head, the weird shit had cleared away.

Liquid cocaine, more like liquid LSD.

The story would amuse Harrison, and I couldn't wait to share it. However, raised voices piqued my interest. I drew my pants up and meandered from the bathroom. Out by the bar, two men argued, one with a raised fist. Ya know when things are so crazy that it's tough for your brain to register what's happening? Well, my brain was overloaded with crazy right then.

I recognized a few truths, the first being the man with the raised fist pointed a gun. The second truth was that the gun was pointed at my brother.

For some horrible reason, the man cocked the weapon, prompting me to cry out,

"Please, stop!"

I was still across the room, helpless to the nightmare unfolding before me. Harrison and I locked eyes. Near imperceptibly, he shook his head, then went back to pleading with his aggressor. I searched his face for a hint of what was happening, but he exuded calm concern and nothing else.

"I have to," the man said.

"Sir, it's gonna--"

But Harrison never finished what he'd meant to say, nor would he be allowed to finish anything, ever again. The gun went off with a sharp pop that was much louder than I'd anticipated. My brother immediately hit the ground, and I took off running, eager to see if he'd made it.

The perpetrator dropped his weapon, and barreled towards me. Nearby patrons reached out in a effort to stall him, but he slipped past. I froze as he veered closer, gun aimed my way. The same sharp pop sounded off. However, a second before that, my lame knee jerked, forcing me to kneel.

The gunman cursed, still headed for me. I couldn't get up, both from shock and pain. Lucky for me (or was it luck?), a large man tackled the attacker, the gun falling and skidding underneath a table.

One punch, and he was out. Panting over him, the good Samaritan said,

"Can someone help me tie this guy up and call the police?"

With the gunman out of commission, I unfroze.

"Harrison?" I called out, hearing nothing in response.

My brother needed me, and was in fact bleeding out a few feet away. A young woman came over and helped me up, then offering her belt to the large man. I rushed to Harrison's side, surprised to find the vagrant from earlier cradling his head in her lap.

I figured out it was a she and not a he. Even hidden under the dirty cap, the features were too soft.

My brother lay, limbs sprawled, jaw slack, eyes open but unblinking.

The pain in my knee forgotten, I dropped to the floor and gathered my brother in my arms.

"He okay?" Tears thickened my voice.

I caressed his face, so cold, and I shook him, but he didn't wake.

The answer was obvious before she spoke.

"He's gone."

She met my tear-blurred gaze, and my stomach immediately recoiled. Stars burst before me, and my mind swirled, lost in a chaos of color and thought.

A hand on my back steadied me.

"You okay?"

The swirling subsided, but not altogether. I was set to lose a battle with my stomach, and I didn't want that to happen. Carefully, I put my brother down and got up.

"I'll be right back," I told the capped woman while struggling to hold back vomit. Not looking at her seemed to do the trick.

With each stride away from her, my head cleared and my nausea abated.

Gods, something's wrong with me.

In the bathroom, I plunked on the toilet without checking, dunking my bum in the water.

At that point, the tears overcame me. I settled into my wet fate, barely aware of anything but Harrison's death. Minutes before, I'd been delightfully drunk, and then, my brother was gone.

Through the misery, I noticed the mystery lights from before had returned.

I reached for them, shouldn't have, and that's the last that I recall. That, and the cold. Instead of hot, the lights were cold. Things didn't pick up until I awoke, 5,000 years into the future.

~*~