Brink by Mikel Parry
Chapter 14 - Eye of the tiger

CH-EYE OF THE TIGER

As before, light and chaos swept Thomas out from his current place in time and pushed him into another. He collapsed onto a rickety floor that creaked beneath his weight. A thick musk of salty, humid air infiltrated his nostrils. His body was covered in tiny beads of sweat. The environment was foreign to him. Never before had he felt like he was drowning in air. He became aware of the repugnant smell of mold, mildew, and fish all around him. It appeared that the location had been justifiably described; he was somewhere in the ocean.

“Okay, what now?” he mumbled.

To his great delight, he realized he was sitting safely inside what appeared to be some sort of cargo ship. The massive boat was being held in place at the mercy of time. Everything was almost at a standstill. Clouds of puffy steam sneaking their way through the cracks were suspended in midair. The rocking motion of the ship was on pause. All of the items scattered about the cavernous hull were beyond imagination. A world set aside momentarily, ready to be examined. But he faced the same problem as before—which ones were clues? He needed to replace the important details; details that would lead to clues that would lead to conclusions. Without them, this was a complete waste of time. But where should he start? This place was as foreign to him as the moon. But to the killer it held a purpose—to send a tiny snowball streaming down the hill on route towards the decimation of someone’s future.

Not wanting to waste another second of his precious time, he looked down at his watch. He had landed a bit further away from the epi center of the disturbance than last time. He needed to get moving. Taking a few long strides, he paused upon seeing a shabbily dressed man cradling a large vat of alcohol against his chest. The man jangled an exorbitantly large set of keys looped around his wrist. No matter how many times Thomas tried to convince himself he couldn’t be seen, the idea still tickled him with possibility. Passing the strange man, he realized he was walking between massive storage containers and crates. Crates filled with unidentified goods, all carefully packed away in the dark.

A cargo ship? Why would he come to a cargo ship?

His mind was so energetically engaged in the question that he didn’t notice the large, free-hanging knotted rope just a few steps ahead. It smacked hard against the side of his head. He was knocked to the ground and his head rang like a cymbal. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Standing back up, he was struck in awe for a moment at the image before him. The rope sat mid-swing, reacting to the forces caught in its relative domain. The configuration seemed supernatural. And yet when his head bashed into it, it had remained just the same. Unable to fight the urge, he grasped the rope in his hands. It felt as solid as a rock; almost completely unmovable. Straining himself, he heaved on the rope, pulling himself off the ground. It was astonishing. The angles—the shapes—it was like a funhouse beyond imagination.

This is ridiculous.

The lost toys of time were a distraction; a distraction meant to derail his fuming locomotive. He needed to focus, but there was a part of him that wished to dive further into the physics that dictated this time-warped world. Suddenly, he caught a whiff of something odd. The tiny particles suspended in the air flowed into his nose, shepherding in a stray memory from recent times.

I know this smell.

It was much like the cologne he had smelled on the bed of the woman. It was a common scent, nothing too eccentric or traceable about it. He had known many men to splash a layer of it on routinely. It was unfortunately mixed with the gagging combo of alcohol and murky water. So many sensate memories caught up in the clutches of time.

Moving forward, he stared down at his watch—he was getting closer. Meandering his way through the hull was becoming difficult. It was a literal maze. No path seemed to lead in any desired direction. It was a scramble of effort just to stay on course. This was accompanied by the ridiculous nature of methodical interactions. Objects stuck out in unnatural states of time and energy cluttering almost every step of his way. Even a spilling over barrel of peanuts proved to be an exhausting task. But it was remarkable. As his weight pressed down on the suspended peanuts, he could see them shift slightly under the force. But their relative immobility kept him afloat. It was the closest thing to walking on air he had ever experienced.

I can’t believe this is happening.

Passing over the last few barriers, he glanced back down at his watch. He was directly on top of whatever had been altered. Now it was a waiting game. Focusing on his insatiable mental appetite, he feasted. All the details of the ship came rushing in. It was proving to be quite a task to keep them organized. The ship was filled to the brim with important details. Crates, metal boxes, tightly bound parts, cages, and other items strewn about stampeded through his mind. But none of them were any obvious threat; at least not yet. For the time being, everything appeared tame enough. He had become so caught up in his inspection of the area that he neglected to watch where he was backpedaling.

A large cage, mostly covered by a thick blanket, slowed his progress. When he turned, he was met by the dark eyes of a wild tiger. The deep melody of orange hues mixed with yellow gazed back at him ferociously.

“Woah, whoa!” he screamed, falling down and away from the cage.

From where he landed, he could see the beast’s head that accompanied its nightmarish stare. It was locked away inside of a cramped, rugged-looking cage. Its eyes had seared like fire into his soul. He had never been so close to such a magnificent, yet mortifying creature. Standing up slowly he met its gaze dead on. He felt himself tremble. Such little protection lay between him and an almost assured death. But in his relative space, he would go unnoticed as only a passing moment of déjà vu. He was a ghost.

Don’t want to see what you’re like outside of that cage.

But it was the cage that suddenly interested him the most. This lead him to another point in memory—the man; a drunken man skulking around in the midst of the giant hull. A routine, a job, a purpose; was there something there? Looking back at the cage, he scrutinized its ever detail. Aged steel and rusty locks made for appalling living conditions. He racked his brain for answers—using his present to unlock the dire possibilities of the past. Now he was running into a problem—he was looking for potential game changers—things subtle enough to be changed, yet vital enough to be the predecessor of catastrophe. In the bowels of a humongous cargo hold, everything seemed to carry some weight on the topic.

Where are you?

Things had not yet been churned into motion; he would have to wait. He recalled the anomaly that flashed like lightning during his last glimpse. It had all seemed to pass so quickly. Relative time lapses were incredibly complicated to understand. But to him it felt like passing another car going the other direction on the freeway. You both were in the same moment and space, even if only for a second. There was something else that was gnawing in his mind; a strange, eerie feeling. Unable to shake it, he began searching around. Occasionally, he would stop and attempt to peer through the gaps in the carelessly thrown together crates. But the darkness therein seemed to be shrouding any prying eye. That was until he found a rather odd shaped crate marked with only a few indiscernible letters.

What kind of ship is this?

A trickling beam of light had found its mark, almost perfectly putting the contents of the crate in full view—guns—a whole mess of them. They were tightly packed inside the box. The image took his breathe away. Something was beginning to take shape in his mind that was sickening him. He was on a ship teeming to the brim with illegal contraband. Ships like this had only been figments of his imagination up to this point, but now he was standing dead center of one. If the high number of ways to utilize any one of these items had been overwhelming before, it seemed utterly daunting now. Reaching his hand out, he ran it over the rough surface of the crate.

So this is where it starts.

His mind was looking for the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle he was caught in. He felt like he was onto something. Suddenly, he thought he caught something twitch out of the corner of his eye. But that was impossible. Although relatively new to the process, he knew that all things were behaving in relation to him. That meant there should be no movement. Yet he was sure he had seen something, so he replayed the moment over and over again in his mind like a skipping record. Something had moved.

Curiosity swelled inside of him until it burst. He had to investigate. Turning around, he saw the large rows and columns of containers, crates, and other objects. Quickly, he honed in on the point at which he swore he had seen movement. He dwelled there for a minute. If something had moved perhaps it would move again. But there was nothing. Everything stared back at him, frozen in time, and bearing false witness to the conclusion that his mind was merely playing tricks on him.

What is happening?

He wasn’t going to stop. His progress hastened. Zeroing in closer and closer to the point in question, his breathing became erratic. He was nervous. There was suddenly a slight trace of fear in the room. Had the framed picture on the wall come to life? That’s when he saw him; a man standing motionless, facing into a dark shadow in one of the ship’s countless crevices. His clothes were a layered conglomerate of different shades of black. His face was shrouded in darkness. But that wasn’t what was pulling Thomas in; it was how out of place he appeared. Much like himself, something about the man didn’t seem to belong. Unable to resist, he approached him. Soon he was standing just inches from his back. Not knowing why, he extended his hand to touch him. His shaky arm crept closer and closer, inch-by-inch. At the precipice of contact, a whirlwind of chaos erupted. The once statue-like man swung around and dealt Thomas a vicious blow across the face. The force sent Thomas sprawling to the floor.

Wriggling around on the floor to try to gain his bearings, he watched as the shadow-like man sprinted away. The improbable had just happened—he and the killer were now firmly planted in the same glimpse. His worst nightmare had come true.

“Stop!”

Thomas’ scream went completely unanswered. The man was gaining distance from him with every passing second. Fighting the immense pain, he pushed himself off the ground. He did his best to control his faltering legs and bolted after the man. His heart leapt in his chest. Was the man armed? Would he be running right into a trap? The only thing that was crystal clear was the man’s ability. He was brilliant. But he was losing him. The man weaved his way in and out of objects with expert agility. He had obviously done this many times before. It was no wonder that Banks and the other agents had such a healthy fear of him. Thomas thought about screaming out another plea to stop, but quickly realized it was pointless. Whoever it was wasn’t going to do so. In the dark shadows of the ship, he found himself alone and defeated.

Damn it!

The killer had left him behind. Bending over, he let his weight fall on his hands and knees. He sucked in the thick, ocean air in greedy gulps. His high levels of adrenaline were leaving him breathless. Somewhere in the hull was a killer whose ability severely trumped his own. If he was caught off guard again, who was to say he wouldn’t be the next victim on the list? Suddenly, a flash of light streamed through the world around him. Something had changed.

Digging deeper into his already exhausted fuel supply, he began moving again. He needed to replace the source. He needed to replace the ripple. He and the vile murderer dwelling in the same glimpse could mean disaster. But he had to risk it. If he didn’t, there would be another potential murder in the future. His desires would have to be put to the side for now.

Where are you?

His pace had dampened to a slow walk. He skulked his way along the large crates, ducking in and out of the shadows. In a desperate attempt to boost his chances of surviving, he was trying to adapt. He had never been in such an unbelievable situation. Not even in his wildest dreams had he ever deemed anything like this a possibility. There had to be a way to beat the killer’s deviant plan. There had to be a way to end the madness. Coming around another corner, he saw where the chase had led him. He had gone in a massive loop, back to the crates of guns and the caged tiger. Looking down at his watch, he saw the prompt displaying the calculated epicenter. It was strange that to him it had just happened, but in the future so much time had passed. He shook his head.

Stay focused.

He felt the strange sensation that he was being watched from somewhere out in the shadows. He spun wildly around looking for the source. But there were too many places to hide, too many dark corners.

“Who are you?”

His scream echoed through the room, but there was no response. In the unnatural quiet, he could hear the deafening drumming of his heart. He knew the man was still there, watching. Was he preparing to make his move? Had he been just as shocked to replace that he was not alone? Suddenly, he felt the presence of the man somewhere behind him. The man’s eyes were burning a hole through the back of his head like two fiery pokers. Turning slowly, he looked into a dark space between two massive steel containers. Once there the sharp pain from the blow swayed his hand up into a trickling line of blood coming out from his mouth. Would he tempt his fate again?

“I know you’re there. You’ve got to stop this. You have no idea what consequences you are creating. You are destroying lives!”

For a moment he thought he saw something shift in the dark. Then, without warning, a small card slid into view. It had a strange symbol inked on it—a symbol he had seen before—three triangles locked together. He bent to reach for it when suddenly the world around him began to shred itself apart with brilliant rays of light. His time was up. Taking one last desperate look into the dark he saw a black glove suddenly burst free. It pointed directly at him. Both he and the man were swept out into time and space leaving a million unanswered questions behind. In utter awe, he watched as the card was ripped into a billion fragments. This answered his lingering question—What happens to things left behind?—with a horrible solution. But it didn’t matter now; the poison had been planted. Who was going to die next?