Cat In A Box

Alan stumbled through the doorway, tripped, and fell into the foyer on his side.

"Shit! My fucking back!"

The door slammed behind him and whatever dim light peeking through was quickly snuffed. Alan's ragged breath was stunted by his lungs breathing the choking particulate within the house. Everything was covered in a half inch layer of fluffy grey dust. Not as course as ash and not as fine as flour, somewhere in between. The air stunk like an old Tupperware container.

"The hell is this place." Alan gripped a coat rack to steady himself up onto his feet while rubbing his sore left flank. First thing he tries was the light switch on the wall, which of course was dead. Not surprising at all to Alan. But there was something else nagging in the back of his brain. "Wait a second."

«D-3454, do you copy?»

He didn't jump this time. He knew this. He was back, except now he remembered. He responded to the scratchy voice.

"Alan?"

«…» After a long thoughtful pause there was finally a reply from the other Alan. «Who is this?»

"It's me. Only this time… I remember. I remember everything." Alan looked down to notice the very plain looking Casio watch with no buttons. It wasn't keeping time, but was in stopwatch mode. Only 22 seconds recorded so far. Just like before.

«What do you mean?»

Alan fumbles with the small keychain sized flashlight affixed to the side of the radio. With a click the bright LED lights up the foyer and the empty hallway ahead. A small end table can be seen with a handgun sitting idly on top of the dust layer, as if it was just placed there.

«Hello?»

"Yeah, I can still hear you. I can't explain it all, but I think I can figure this out."

«What about sticking to the plan?»

Alan walked over to the gun. "There is no plan."

Take the gun. (1.1)




Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License