Damn it, Thomas Harold Burker, you’re better than this! I keep thinking to myself as I hurriedly drive through this Godforsaken town. I actually said it out loud a few times, “You’re better than this, Thom!”
But then again, am I? I guess panic is the big word I’m seeking here. Panic destroys everything. Keeps you from thinking rational thoughts in the heat of the moment. You will not believe the absolute horrors I had to face during the forced capture thing. Time travel has never been an awfully pleasant concept, but to have every fibre, every single lone cell in your body ripped and torn and burnt and then finally having to wake up in this middle-aged body… well, let’s just say it was not on my list on fun.
And it’s not like I had a choice now, did I? It’s all because of them! They were hunting me! What else was I supposed to do? And now their brave little soldier Roland shows up and I have no fucking idea where he came from.
From what I’ve heard, Roland just appeared out of nowhere into the station one day, no one knowing a freaking thing about him, and they still permitted him a spot on the team! Ha! Not much left of the team now, is there, Roland?
I don’t remember much from the previous months, partly because I’ve been on a bender the entire time, and partly because Brian is trying to mess with my mind. I know the entire Forced Capture must have been as much of a hell for him as it was for me. Maybe even more for him, cause he didn’t know what was happening at the time. I didn’t know he’d be rebelling this much though. I can’t figure out how he’s doing it either. Forced Capture is a precarious thing and there are only two known successful cases in history. Including this one. No one knows exactly why some are able to succeed, and why others aren’t. It’s kinda like a tight fusion of genetic material. Like DNA is ripped apart and then smashed together again, but mostly, it’s half-assed. Like the DNA is not complete anymore.
Like I’m only partly here, and partly… well… there.
And there is not a very good place to be.
Brian’s resistance is crumbling finally, though. It’s like he’s fading, sinking. I’m not very sure what they’re doing to him, there, but if they still think he’s me, it can’t be very pretty. I’ll make it up to him once. I’ll tell him that all this that’s been happening, it’s for the greater good. It’s what my Dad used to say, well, my foster Dad, but hey. Don’t think about what people will think, Thomas, think beyond that, think about the greater good.
Right now the greater good is getting my ass as far away from Chicago as possible. Carter’s car is awfully old and doesn’t go much harder then 180. It’s frustrating, having to drive for hours on end without getting even halfway through the country. Nothing like that in ’37. I’d be halfway around the world right now.
I didn’t know an awful lot about the dynamics between Carter and Littrell. Basically because Brian’s been trying to keep as many memories hidden from me as possible. We had quite a fight over Nick’s question about the plane. I won, obviously. I’m sure he’s going to behave himself for a while now. He better.
Suddenly, the engine coughs miserably and the car gives a final jerk forward before shutting down. I frown in confusion, sitting back slowly. Studying the dashboard with narrowed eyes, I completely ignore the impatient beeping of a car-horn behind me.
“Hey, asshole! Get off of the road!” An angry voice yells.
I roll my eyes, finally turning around in the convertible to see who has the nerve to heighten my blood pressure even more on this already stressful day.
“Do we have a problem?” I rasp in a scratchy voice.
The man gets out of his car slowly, walking up to me. I swallow, watching him approaching, my mind going a mile a minute. His uniform doesn’t leave any room for suggestion.
Great.
Just when I thought I had more than enough 2014 police on my ass, this yahoo gets thrown in to the mix. I fling open the car door, trying to plan a good escape.
Yes sir, I’m very sorry. I know I drove a hundred miles over the speed limit. Yes sir, I know I have 26 unpaid tickets already. Am I going to lose my license now?
It wasn’t like it was my license anyway.
I stand next to the car, a confident smirk on my face. What is the worst that could happen? The cop comes to stand in front of me and I immediately notice he’s about seven inches taller than me. If I could have, I would have chosen a taller, bigger, more intimidating body than this one. I didn’t have much to choose though.
“That your car?” the cop questions in a sneer, pointing the pen he just pulled out of his pocket towards the broken down convertible I’m leaning against.
I do my best not to roll my eyes at the obvious question, “Yes sir,” I answer instead through clenched teeth.
“Cause this car was reported stolen a few hours ago,” he continues, looking sternly into my eyes.
I avert my gaze carefully, thinking for a second. Of course Nick would be reporting his car as stolen sooner or later, but even if they were excessively looking for it, there could be no way of knowing where it was this soon.
Unless…
“Ah!” I manage to choke out, deciding there’s no time to think about the matter further, “yeah, that! I’m sorry about that, it was all a big misunderstanding really! False alarm, ha ha!” I give a nervous laugh.
“So this is your car,” the officer prods, pointing his pen again.
“N-no, it’s Nick’s,” I tell him, sighing exasperated, “I borrowed it, I’m Brian, we’re friends.”
Unfortunately, the cop does not seem to know about me and Nick and eyes me sceptically for a few seconds, indecisive.
“You can call him, he’ll tell you!” I encourage, pulling Brian’s phone out of my pocket, showing the man before me Nick’s number in triumph, “Look, why else would I have his number?”
This surely is one of the most suspicious cops I’ve ever met, I think as I watch him actually reach for the phone and studying Nick’s picture for a couple of seconds.
Almost when I think he’s going to give it back and let me go, he presses the dial button and I feel my knees weakening in defeat.
“Yes?” I hear Nick’s voice, even though the phone’s not on speaker.
“Mister Carter?” the cop questions.
“Yes,” Nick repeats, his voice annoyed.
“Yes, this is deputy Miller speaking, I’m standing here with one mister Brian…” he raises his eyebrows, looking at me questioningly.
“Littrell,” I provide in a rushed tone.
“…Littrell,” he repeats, “he claims he borrowed the car that you reported stolen earlier this day, is that correct?”
The silence lingers for seconds in which I breathlessly wait for Nick to give an answer. The air seems to be getting thinner and thinner as the silence continues.
“No,” Nick says, his voice cold, emotionless, “I don’t know no Brian.”
“I thought so,” deputy Miller replies, an arrogant smirk on his face as he turns to look at me, “Thank you for your time, mister Carter, we’ll call you once we’ve reached the station.”
Miller steps closer, after he’s broken off the phone call, reaches behind his back and I immediately know what’s going to happen.
“Mister Littrell, you are under arrest at the charges of car theft and attempt at manipulating an officer, you have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be held against you,” he sneers as he snaps the handcuffs around my wrists.
I clench my jaw, slowly walking with him towards his car and try to ignore Brian, who can’t seem to stop laughing.
Chapter End Notes:
can you actually be arrested for manipulating an officer? :)
